#i rewrote them from memory but...wine so...memory (?)

[druidwolf21]

Shipwreck part 2

Magnus the red/f reader

SORRY IT HAS TAKEN ME SO LONG

I've had a LOT on my plate recently and honestly, the bajillion drafts currently sat waiting for me are a liiiiittle overwhelming!

But here is part 2 finally!

I rewrote it a few times before settling in this!!

As with everything I share, this is not proofread lol

Mostly fluff, some smut at the end beneath the 💦 emoji so you can enjoy the fluff without the spice.

Although even if you skip the smut I recommend reading the last little bit just for a bit of extra context 👀👀

As always let me know what you think!!!

Cw: sexy time beneath the 💦 emoji, brief implied threat

@thisuserislilsilly @jaghatai-khock @moodymisty @beckyninja @lemon-russ @astrohymn @echo-of-damnation @kitty-chan33 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond

A soft breeze carried the scent of fresh grass to you as it tousled gently through your hair, sweet honeyed pollen filling your nose. You smiled as you strolled the garden, running your hands along the top of the waist high hedges that lined the gravelled path and with each step you took, a faint flittering mist caressed your skin.

The garden was large, flower beds surrounded by low hedges were bordered by long paths that swept around in a cross shape, culminating in a marbled fountain in the middle. Each step crunched pebbles underfoot as you strayed from the path to wonder amongst the rainbow hued buds. Your long satin dress pooled around you in a puddle of purples and gold as you knelt to reach for a flower, caressing the soft bell of its petals as you brought it to your nose and inhaled deeply. The bloom was a vibrant red, the crevices of its core lined and flecked with yellow whilst the greens of its leaves were a vivid emerald. The perfume wafting from the blossom was rich and warm, like wine and cinnamon and you smiled as the scent brought forth memories of cold nights around a warm fire, sipping mulled ciders from heated cups. A firm hand on your shoulder pulled you from your reverie and you jumped slightly at the contact, accidentally ripping the flower from its stem as you twisted towards the contact.

"Magnus, you frightened me" you sighed, allowing a soft chuckle to escape you as you looked at the severed flower head settled in your lap, picking it up gently and turning it in your palm sadly.

"my apologies, my lady, I saw you settled in the flower bed and came to make sure you had not fallen" his tone was warm and light as he offered you his hand, lifting you to your feet effortlessly with a gentle pull. Your heart fluttered as Magnus bent and brought your hands to his face, pressing a light kiss across your knuckles, his eye never leaving your face as his lips grazed your skin. "No, thank you, I was just admiring the flowers, they smell wonderful" you felt breathless as he released your hand a rose back to his full height. "I'm amazed you can grow anything at all in this rock"

Magnus chuckled, waving vaguely across the garden. "Did you think me a liar when I told you about the gardens? This took barely a moment for me to make"

You followed his hand as he gestured, admiring the vibrant colours before returning your gaze back to him. "You? You made this? You planted this yourself?" Your eyes widened as you looked up at him in awe "you grew so many flowers? That's amazing!"

The man stilled, his single eye trailing your face as his smile faltered for a moment "I.. certainly 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 them yes" he continued to watch you as you viewed the gardens with renewed vigor, thin opalescent mist curling around you in frail tendrils, before you looked down at your clenched hand and raised it up towards him.

"I'm so sorry, you must've worked so hard" you muttered, showing him the decapitated plant in your grasp "I didn't mean to, it was an accident, it was so pretty so I just wanted to look and..." he shook his head, thick red locks bouncing as he huffed. "It's only a flower, they live such short lives anyway.." he paused as you continued to look down at the quickly wilting petals, cocking his head in thought. "Much like humans I suppose. Such short pretty lives" he mused, reaching down and covering the flower and your hand with his own. "Both so pretty, being plucked by things much bigger than themselves to be displayed and admired, only to die so quickly"

You glanced up at the primarch's face, shifting uneasily at the sudden intensity he watched you with, a shadow seemed to cast over his face as his stare seemed to pierce through your mind and soul. "My lord?" The shift in his face happened so quickly you thought you'd imagined it, the intensity and harshness vanished, replaced by a relaxed smile and gently flushed cheeks. He knelt, dropping to one knee and cupping your cheek with his other hand.

"my apologies, little bird, I was thinking aloud. If the flower upsets you, I can fix it, would you like that?" He searched for yours, questioning as his thumbs ran over your soft skin. You leant into his caress, closing your eyes briefly and nodding "I would like that very much, Magnus"

You felt a warmth in your hand and your eyes shot open, he pulled away from you, and you stood clutching the flower in amazement.

The flower retained its vivid colour, but the once soft petals were now rendered in carved ruby, softly flecked with freckles of gold. The stem of brilliant emerald and jade felt smooth in your hand as you twisted it between your fingers, watching as the light refracted through the crystals.

"how did you.."

He turned away from you and stepped over the hedge, before turning and reaching out towards you. With a cocky smile, he helped you over and pulled you flush against him. "Pretty things are my speciality, little bird"

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Sitting on the bench by the fountain, you felt the soft spatter of water droplets hit your back as you continued to admire the jewelled flower. Magnus sat beside you, long legs sprawled before him and a muscled arm lazily stretched behind you as he quietly watched you.

"is this something all primarchs can do?" You queried, finally setting the flower down on the rim of the fountain, following the soft ripples of colour it reflected into the pool before you returned your eyes to him. He shook his head and the muscles beneath his robe popped as he shrugged and shuffled in his seat. "No, this is something I learned, much to my father's disappointment"

You froze. "This is...warp magic?" Your eyes darted back to the shimmering plant, then back to the man now leaning towards you, single piercing eye trained on your face as his arm rose from the bench and draped fairly across your shoulders, calloused hand resting against your arm.

'does that scare you?"

You had been magnus' guest for 3 weeks now, and he had been the perfect gentleman. Your memories from your first day were hazy admittedly, but each day after he had come to your room and tended your wounds as sat by your bedside. He brought you plates of warm food and brushed out your hair as you ate, telling you tales of the imperium and answering your questions happily when you asked. But he never spoke of the emperor and he never spoke of his rumoured dalliance with chaos.

Were you scared?

You lent into his arm, running a small finger across the burnished skin of his knuckles. "No, I'm not scared of you, Magnus"

You felt his chest vibrate as he hummed, pulling you towards him until your body rested against his ribs with your head nestled against his firm muscle. You felt heat rise in your face at the sudden contact. You and Magnus had danced a fine line of gentle touches, kissed to fingers and the soft grip of his hand on yours as you walked. But this? Feeling the heat of his body against your own, feeling the powerful thump of his hearts. This was new.

Wasn't it?

"I am glad, little bird, I do not want you to be scared." He held you a little tighter as he spoke "your company pleases me and I would like you to be content. happy."

Butterflies burst into flight in your stomach at his words as you sat, soaking in his scent of warm spice and something else? What was that, burning? ozone? No, it was gone, there was only nutmeg, myrrh, cinnamon. You nuzzled into the silk of his clothing as you inhaled, grinning as he continued to grip you tightly.

"the warp should only be feared by those who can't control it"

You froze.

"can you?"

"...for a price"

You reluctantly pulled away from his warmth, blushing furiously as you placed a palm against his firm abs to steady yourself. Magnus refused to meet your gaze as he looked forward over the garden, the mist now dusting the tops of the hedges like a faint pearlecent spray. You slipped from under his arm, sliding across the bench as the primarch rose to his full height. The bliss you had felt just moments ago being pressed to his mass was now smothered under dread as he towered over you.

"what price?" You whispered, tears pricking your eyes as you searched his face desperately, recoiling slightly as he reached for you.

"what price, Magnus?"

He paused as he stretched towards you, his hand stopping inches from you. "Don't you trust me, little bird?" He hand dropped and he sighed. "Very well, I will show you" he rolled his massive shoulders with a Ｃｒａｃｋ and you gasped as he stood before you.

"is... That it? The price.... Was this?"

You looked up at Magnus, eyes widening as your gaze followed the gentle curve of giant wings. The feathers a kelidescope of colour as they ruffled softly with each movement. You rose to your feet and reached out a trembling hand, you brushed a finger along the keratin, admiring the way the dim light bounced from the feathers as they shuddered under your touch. A large hand grasped your wrist and you yelped as Magnus drew your hand away. Kneeling, he clasped your palm against his chest, The strong beat of his hearts vibrated through your bones as his large fingers wrapped softly around your wrists to keep you still.

"do I scare you now, my lady?"

"throne Magnus, no! I thought you were going to kill me!" You laughed, wiping away a tear that threatened to fall. "The way you were talking, I thought you were going to sacrifice me, not grow a pair of bloody wings!" He shook his head at your words, chuckling with you as you fanned yourself.

"No, my lord" you hummed, finally calming down. You pulled your hand away and brought both palms to his cheeks, smiling warmly up at him. "I think you are beautiful"

His face became unreadable, the pupil of his eye narrowing as the laughter died in his throat. Suddenly his hands were on your hips and your back pulling you against him as he kissed you. Melting into his touch, you closed your eyes and tangled your fingers through his thick auburn hair. You whined when he pulled away, chasing his lips for another heated kiss.

"forgive me, little bird, that was too forward" he began, dipping his head at you "I apologize"

You grasped his face and pulled him back towards you, leaning in to taste him again "don't be" you whispered "I want this"

He smirked, a dark desire flashing across his face impossibly fast before his mouth grazed yours once again.

"if this is what you want, little bird"

💦💦💦💦SMUT BELOW💦💦💦💦

Magnus grinned as he pressed a soft kiss against your neck, listening to your breathless sighs as he peppered your skin with gentle touches and nibbles. You'd accepted his wings with no pushing, and now you accepted his advances willingly. His hands kneaded the soft flesh of your hip as he moved back to silence your breathy moans with a kiss. Soon he'd show you his true form, but, this was a very good start. And this time, he had you willing and wanting, without twisting your pretty little thoughts.

You gasped as you felt Magnus nip at your neck, tilting your head to allow his access to the delicate skin as he sucked and nibbled. His lips soon returned to your own, his tongue licking you, teasing to allow him to taste you and you moaned as you allowed him in. His hands roamed your body, gently squeezing at your hips before firmly grabbing your ass. He lent back from you, pawing at your rear as you panted. "Let me have you" he purred, his fingers trailing up your back to find the zip of your dress. "Let me make you mine"

You nodded, too breathless to form words as he pulled the zip down and shrugged the delicate fabric from your body. Red blush flooded across your chest and cheeks as he devoured you with his eye, almost black with desire as his pupil expanded.

"still so beautiful" he muttered before taking a nipple between his teeth and sucking, rolling the sensitive flesh across his tongue and fangs. You head fell backwards, arching forward into his touch as you ran your fingers across his scalps.

Wait

Still? So beautiful?

You didn't have time to linger in the thought as his thumb trailed down your stomach and stopped at your clit, pausing for a moment before pressing down gently on your nub. You felt his mouth twitch as you shuddered at his touch, his thumb beginning to gently rub in circles. He released your breast and licked a trail up your chest and throat before pressing his lips to your ear.

"do you like that, little one?" He whispered, twisting his hand around to run a thick finger through your heat as his thumb continued to rub. "Does it feel good, little bird?" He pressed a finger slowly inside you, feeling your walls twitch and grip at his digit as he curves his finger inside you, pressing into that spot he remembered you liked as he gently dragged, in and out of your core. "Magnus" you panted, hands gripping his shoulders as your ground against his hand, the knot in your belly tightening with each thrust of his finger inside you "please" The knot got tighter and tighter, so close, nearly there. You cried out as you came, your chest heaved and your core spasmed as it rolled over you in waves, whining when you were left feeling empty as Magnus pulled his hand away. You blushed as he put his finger in his mouth, eye staring straight at you as he licked his finger clean. He grinned as you shivered, before standing and picking you up. He carried you the few steps to the bench, his lips locked with yours as he sat resting you in his lap. You ground against him, enjoying his deep grumbles as his hips jerked against you with every move you made.

The soft flutter of feathers caught your eye and you reached around his shoulders, running your fingers along the rainbow wing that sprung from his back. A deep groan erupted from him, encouraging you as your nails dragged along the feathers, tangling deeper between the quills. Your teeth found his ear, nibbling the lobe as you rubbed the pinions "Another price of warp magic, My lord?" You giggled, only to find your shoulder marked by his own teeth in response and he huffed.

"enough teasing" you whispered as you slid away and fiddled with the buttons of his robe, popping them open one by one and placing a soft chaste kiss every inch of ruby skin that was revealed. Finally resting on your knees between his legs as you undid the last button of his robe, you tugged at his trousers freeing his dick from the tight waistband. You grasped him softly, unable to fully grip around his girth, you slid your hand up and down his cock, thumb grazing his tip. You looked up at him with doe eyes as you stuck out your tongue and ran it flat along his length, relishing the sharp hiss of breath he took as you took his tip in your mouth and ran your tongue in circles around him. You began bobbing your head, swirling and flicking as you moved in tandem with your hand, flicking your gaze up to him as you felt his hand stroke your face. "Such a good girl" he moaned, admiring the way your eyelids dropped as you tasted him "so good for your primarch"

His head fell back and his fist bunches into your hair as he jerked his hips upwards to meet you. You gagged around him, eyes running as he fucked your mouth. The taste of salty precum lined your tongue and you gripped his thighs as you continued to gag on his thick cock, you could feel him twitch in your mouth and knew he was close.

Running a hand up his abdomen, you stared up at him until he met your gaze with his own misted stare. As he looked down at you, you thrust your head down as far as you could and hummed, vibrating the soft flesh of your throat and jaw around him.

Your mouth filled with ropes of cum as he finished, hot and thick in your mouth. Before you could swallow, he yanked your head back, looking down at you and fisting himself as he shuddered, threads splattering across your face and breasts as he finally came down from his high.

You opened your mouth, showing him the cum in your mouth before swallowing and opening again sticking your tongue out.

Magnus smiled, a tired content smile as he leant over in his seat and gripped your chin gently, turning your face left and right to admire the mess. "I like this look on you, little bird" he cooed before wiping you with the corner of his robe. You laughed and stood up, collecting your dress from the floor, tripping slightly on the deep furrows carved in the gravel.

Wait, were these always there?

You were swept up suddenly, cradled in strong arms as Magnus carried you back through the garden.

"we should visit the gardens more often, my lady" he laughed, bouncing you slightly with each step. You snorted and rolled your eyes "maybe you could show me something different next time? I'm curious to see what else you've managed to do"

"of course, little bird, I can show you anything your heart desires"

You buried yourself into his chest, sleep lulling you softly into its depths as Magnus' wings enveloped the two of you as he walked.

Around you, with each giant step, the garden succumbed, burning ashes drifting and dissolving into purple sparks as it faded back into the warp.

Nothing left but rock and ruin.

[everythingelseisextra]

Sometime Around Midnight

Request: No Description: After separating, Tommy sees you at a banquet. Warnings: Mention of alcohol Word Count: 1203 Author's Note: If you knew my old account, you've read a fic of the same plot. But! I rewrote it. This time it's different. This time it's better. Tag List: @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul

It starts sometime around midnight. 

At least, that’s when he starts to lose himself to the haze of the wine and the swell of the music and the bustle of bodies in the banquet hall. Events like this roll through his life, filled with interactions that mean nothing and the act of faking it til he makes it, always faking it, never truly being there as himself. The band plays some old song about forgetting yourself, and he sighs, looking down at the empty wine glass in his hand. His brothers are off somewhere, their own stories developing while his stays still. 

The doors open. You walk in, looking over the crowd, searching. His breath catches in his throat, he watches you shamelessly, and the memories rush back. Your bodies curled together like two perfect circles entwined, quiet laughter in the weak morning light, going arm in arm to events like this, knowing each other deeply, unconditionally. Looking at you too long brings a broken sense of abandonment to him, because you were supposed to stick together, a bonded pair, and he broke that. He shoved you away, denying your pleas, and he watched you leave. But, the first time you met, some part of him latched onto you and hasn’t let go, not then, not now, not ever.

Your eyes land on him, and he swears he sees you smile. You murmur something to the man on your arm and detach from him, walking over to Tommy with a faint fluttering of your heart. Only he makes you feel like that, with excitement mixed with familiarity mixed with admiration. Only him have you allowed to get so close to you, that you feel something so strong at such little prompting. Only him. 

You walk up and ask how he is. Your words are short, but gentle. You’re in charge of this conversation, not him, and you decide when it begins and ends. He knows it. He looks at you with those suddenly soft blue eyes and his next words hold everything in them, and you swear you see the world turn in his eyes.

I’m getting along. He inclines his head. And you. How are you?

You shrug and glance back at the man you came with, who watches you speak with the powerful and ruthless social climber you used to love, you still love. You remind yourself that he doesn’t want you anymore, that this softness and earnestness you see belongs to someone else, that he’s a talented actor and liar. And he waits for your answer as you look back, patiently engaged with every little shift of your body. 

I’m okay. You repeat his words back at him. Getting along.

Good. He says, a weak smile gracing his lips. Your heart sinks a little, though you’re not sure what you were hoping for, other than the fact that the sadness in his expression is not it. That’s good.

It was good seeing you. You have to escape, the breath in your lungs becomes too powerful, the part of you that wants him too strong. You came with another man, you can’t stay with him, you can’t go back. 

Yes. He nods, briefly looking down at his feet. It was good.

Heart in your throat, you return to your tether. He watches you go, lost, and suddenly the bar lights are too bright and the piano playing a bit too melancholic, and that white dress you’re wearing is a little too much like a wedding dress, and he’s losing you. He sees you go back to a man that isn’t him and he can’t stand it. The room spins and he can smell your perfume still lingering around him, like the ghost of a relationship he wants so badly but took away from himself. 

Arthur walks up to him, brow furrowed, mouth slightly open. What ‘appened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

He shakes his head. I did. 

It takes time. It takes him standing there watching you, laughing with the man on your arm, holding your gin and tonic like a crux to your chest, turning and swirling that white dress of yours. It takes him watching you stand on your toes to kiss the man, smiling as your lips meet. But, in the end, when he watches you leave with someone he doesn’t know is good, he decides to stop being afraid of his own life. He decides that, instead of draining the muddy pond of emotion that grows stagnant in him, he will free the water, let it rush, let it fall, let it run the way it was meant to. 

You walk out the door and his blood is boiling, his stomach is in ropes. He takes one step, then another, and the wine in him makes the world fall around him. He steadies himself and makes for the door, and, though he doesn’t notice, eyes follow him. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care what he looks like, doesn’t care how pathetic it may seem, doesn’t care if he never sees you again. He cannot leave you as a ghost in his life. He cannot let your memory die with the only reminder being a brief conversation at some banquet. 

Everyone says to let ghosts go, let them fly, let them return to the earth, but he refuses. He will make his ghosts into stone. He wants them to stay. He wants you to stay. 

He walks quickly under the streetlights, coursing through the spots of light and darkness, following after the paired silhouettes in front of him. Hands stuffed in his pockets, leaning forward slightly, walking with the intent of a predator but with the heart of a lover. 

He catches you, slightly breathless. Wait. Listen to me.

You pause and turn. Your partner tries to keep going, but your heart has jumped at the sound of his voice, and you can’t ignore him. You could never ignore him. 

I’m not a good man. Never have been. I don’t know what the future will hold. The only thing I know, the only thing I know, is that I love you. Without you, I’m hopeless. You know it. I know it. Please, love, give me another chance. He almost gasps the words, so desperate to get his message across. I’m sorry I sent you away.

You’re stuck, because he always knew you were a bleeding heart, always knew that earnestness would win you over. When you look at him, you don’t see manipulation. You don’t see the spark that always told you he had a plan. No, this is a drunken show of emotion, so anguished that he cannot hold it back. He just has to see you. He just has to take you home. 

Please. I made a mistake. I don’t want to be without you.

You step towards him, then hesitate. The man behind you is kind. He’s gentle. He’s harmless. There’s no risk to him. There’s no chance of harm, or terror, or pain. He doesn’t excite you, doesn’t charm you into admiration, but he makes you feel safe. 

I’ll be good. I can make that promise now. Please. Give me another chance.

[bedlamsbard]

☆!

Oooh, let's talk about the Steve and Peggy not-dance in Of Home Near 8, since this was a scene I rewrote a couple of times, and the final version is drastically different from the previous versions. (Which I've included here too.)

This scene is set in the Stork Club, the nightclub where Steve and Peggy were supposed to have their date in CATFA. There is a real Stork Club that was around in the 1940s, but it was in New York City, not London. There was also another Stork Club in London, but from what I could find it wasn't around until the 1950s. (It's currently called the Cuckoo Club.) I'm not sure if the one mentioned in the film is meant to be the NYC one or the London one. After angsting about it I just made it a London nightclub, but it's not meant to be based on the real Stork Club or have any real internal geography.

The back of his neck prickled as he began to make his slow meandering way through the crowd, turning his head from side to side as if he was searching for someone. Despite the music and the general festive atmosphere, Steve had the sensation that he was in enemy territory, like the occupied cities on the continent he had passed through during the war, aware that someone – maybe more than one someone – was watching him with their hand on their gun. Even before the past two years on the run he had gotten used to the feeling of looking over his shoulder and not showing off that that was what he was doing; since then it had become second nature.

The first rule of going on the run is don’t run, walk, Natasha’s voice whispered in his memory. He wasn’t on the run again, not yet, but the same principle applied.

This scene is meant to mirror Steve's Wanda-induced vision in Age of Ultron, as Steve later realizes, so this entire section is pulled straight out of AoU. Except that they're just at a regular nightclub with a regular band, not a USO band.

There was a dreamlike air to his passage through the nightclub, in the flare of the women’s skirts on the dance floor and the steady pulse of the swing music, so unlike what he had gotten used to in the twenty-first century. Someone popped the cork on a champagne bottle near him and Steve flinched, startled by the sound and the spray of the liquid that caught the edge of his left hand. Flashbulbs popped nearby, a couple of photographers taking pictures of the dancers and various couples and groups at the round tables, making Steve jerk instinctively away as if they had been muzzle flashes instead.

He turned quickly at the sound of raised voices, just in time to see two soldiers shoving at each other, a third quickly getting between them. On his other side, one soldier wiped spilled wine from another’s shirt, both men laughing, the red liquid looking horrifyingly like blood in the room’s dim light.

I’ve been here before, Steve thought suddenly. Not the Stork Club; he would have remembered that. There was an oddly hollow quality to the memory, unreal somehow, and it was that which let him place it.

Wanda.

Three years ago in South Africa on Ulysses Klaue’s ship. It wasn’t an exact replica of the induced vision – no USO banner behind the band, the music was different, no MPs – but it was close enough to raise the hair on the back of his neck. Which meant –

He turned before Peggy could speak.

He hadn’t seen her before she had left headquarters, but somehow it wasn’t a surprise to see that she was wearing exactly what she had worn in Wanda’s vision – blue dress, silver earrings, a red silk flower pinned to her right shoulder. Whatever she had been about to say died unspoken at the expression on his face; after a moment where they just stared at each other, she said, “Are you all right?”

“I –” Steve hesitated. “I owe you a dance.”

From here on I rewrote this entire section. In the first few versions of the scene, Peggy essentially came to terms with Steve not being the same guy who went into the ice, which is the exact opposite of what happens in the final version. (I'll put both alternate versions of the scene at the end.)

Her eyebrows went up. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Under the circumstances, I’m not going to insist on collecting.”

Steve swallowed. “Maybe I want you to.”

Steve really wants to actually get the dance he's been waiting for for seventy-three years, but he can't do it without Peggy.

Peggy’s eyebrows stayed up. She was quiet for a long few heartbeats, during which the song the band had been playing finished and there was a brief moment of silence before they started up again. Into it, she said finally, “Sometimes I wonder if any of this is real to you. If to you we’re all just – just playactors in some elaborate pantomime like those awful stage shows you used to put on, so you can say or do whatever you want because it doesn’t matter. Lie about her, wear that uniform, say that to me.”

Fun fact: in one of the versions of this scene I put the lyrics of the song the band is playing in, but they weren't as relevant in the angrier final version, rather than the bittersweet previous versions. It's "When the Lights Go On Again" by Vaughn Monroe, linked version is sung by Vera Lynn ("when the lights go on again all over the world / and the boys are home again all over the world / and rain or snow is all that may fall from the skies above / a kiss won't mean 'goodbye' but 'hello to love').

“I know it’s real,” Steve said, swallowing again. The words hurt, but they were meant to; she knew him well enough for that. “That you’re real – you and Howard and Phillips and the Howlies –”

“Do you?” Peggy said. “Do you really? Because sometimes you don’t act like it.”

“This would be a hell of a lot easier if I thought it wasn’t real,” Steve told her. “A hell of a lot.”

Peggy doesn't know what to think about 2018 Steve -- and she doesn't really accept that he's 2018 Steve, instead of 1945 Steve that something completely bizarre happened to.

She shook her head. “I don’t understand you anymore, Steve,” she said. “I used to, or I thought I did, and now – it’s like one man went up in the Valkyrie and someone else came back. I want to understand and I can’t and you won’t let me.”

“Have you even tried?” Steve said softly. “Every time you’ve talked to me since I got here you’ve been trying to catch me out in one lie or another.”

In Peggy's defense Steve does keep lying, it's just not the thing that she thinks he's lying about that he's lying about.

“And you keep lying,” Peggy said. “It’s like you can’t help yourself. You wouldn’t have done that six weeks ago; it’s not who you are. Only now –”

Steve shut his eyes briefly, then opened them again, because if he was going to say this, then he had to look her in the eye when he did it. “Then maybe you never really knew me, Peggy, because I was always this guy. Maybe you only ever knew the guy you wanted me to be.”

“I don’t believe that,” Peggy said. “I won’t believe that.”

Steve swallowed hard. “Then maybe that’s the problem.”

I've put a lot of thought into both Peggy's relationship with Steve and Peggy's perceived relationship with Steve, and what it's like over the course of CATFA and afterwards, in Agent Carter. (Even though this story takes place prior to AC by more than a year, it's a good look at how Peggy's idea of Steve crystallized post-death.) I think Peggy does have a very idealized view of Steve, in the same way that Steve has a very idealized view of Peggy, and in Peggy's case that's very heavily affected by the fact that Steve (apparently) died tragically a month earlier -- well, six weeks earlier by this point in the story. Steve died and everyone treated Peggy like a widow (even though they hadn't really been anything but a 'maybe' and that was on Peggy, not Steve), and she was able to build up an ideal of Steve. I think Steve says elsewhere in this story that Peggy never looked twice at him (as a potential romantic partner) pre-serum and I do think that's true. But I think post-death PEGGY doesn't think that's true, so she has this very idealized view of pre-serum Steve as being "real" Steve -- it's why she keeps the pre-serum photo of him from the end of CATFA in AC and later in Endgame. Distance and not having the actual person there lets her believe that she always felt that way about him and even that post-serum Steve was less "real," especially since post-serum Steve was ~America's golden boy and that woman does not like sharing. And this is the scene where Steve realizes that maybe Peggy really doesn't know him as well as he thinks she does.

A muscle in her jaw worked. She looked like she was on the verge of tears – Steve felt like he was on the verge of tears, though he didn’t know how much of that showed on his face. He wanted to reach for her, to do something to take even a little of that uncomprehending misery away from her, but he had just forfeited any right he had to comfort her. He started to open his mouth, to apologize, maybe, but he couldn’t do that either. She wouldn’t believe him and it would just be empty words, meaningless except as an attempt to absolve himself.

There was something horribly final about it, as if Steve had finally severed some last remaining tie to the life he should have had, to the man he should have been – his own choice this time, and not the one that fate or God or Abraham Erskine had made for him. For a wild moment, all he wanted to do was take it back, to shout that it was a mistake and that he still wanted this, this life, this woman, this person that no one had ever really laid to rest six years or six weeks or seventy-three years ago, the man that maybe he could have been. He wanted his life back, the same way he had wanted it every day for six years.

But it wasn’t his life anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time.

Steve's known it for a while but he's admitting it now.

*

First version of the scene:

He turned before Peggy could speak.

He hadn’t seen her before she had left headquarters, but somehow it wasn’t a surprise to see that she was wearing exactly what she had worn in Wanda’s vision – blue dress, silver earrings, a red silk flower pinned to her right shoulder. Whatever she had been about to say died unspoken at the expression on his face; after a moment where they just stared at each other, she said, “Are you all right?”

“I –” Steve hesitated. “I owe you a dance.”

“I think your – wife – might protest.”

He winced at the slight but deliberate pauses she had put around the word wife.  Natasha had told him about the conversation she had had with Peggy the previous day; Peggy had been avoiding him ever since Howard’s arrival, and now he knew why.

“No,” Steve said. “She knows –”  He didn’t know how to end that.  What this means to me would probably just make Peggy laugh in his face.  He just said again, “She knows.”

Peggy looked at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable, and then she said simply, “I don’t.”

Steve shut his eyes, heavy with grief.  He could have explained, maybe, or at least tried to, but he knew without even saying a word that it didn’t really matter.  He could say anything he liked, but it would just be words now; the chance for anything else had already passed.  He had to try anyway.  “I’m sorry.”

“I am too,” Peggy said.  “Sorry.”  She took a deep breath, as if bracing herself, and said, “It was never going to be me, was it?”

I've put in and cut out the "it was never going to be me, was it?" line through SEVERAL different scenes now; it also appeared in a previous version of Chapter 7, when Peggy confronts Steve after she finds out from Natasha that they started sleeping together in 1945.

Steve swallowed hard.  “It could have been,” he said.  “I wanted it to be.  For a really – for a really long time.”

“When did you stop?”

It took everything Steve had not to look away, to keep his gaze fixed on hers, because if nothing else he owed her that.  He still hesitated before he admitted, “When we got here.”

This version of the scene was written before the Peggy and Natasha conversation in Chapter 7, so it had to be changed.

Peggy made a sound like she had been struck, a little hitching gasp that tore at Steve’s heart.  He started to reach for her and then stopped, knowing that the only right he had to comfort her was that of a friend, and he had never been entirely certain they were even that.  For an instant her gaze met his again, then she took a step backwards, out of his reach.

“It’s not because of her, is it?” she said, her voice hoarse from suppressed tears. “It’s not even because of me.  You’re – you’re really not him, are you?  No more than I’m the woman I was in 1939.”

I honestly don't think Peggy has the level of self-awareness to have this realization here.

Steve shook his head, a brief, compressed gesture. “No,” he said.  “I’m not.  I – I wish I still was.  But I’m not.  I’m sorry.”

Peggy’s nod was just as compressed, barely more than her chin lifting for an instant. “I’m sorry too.”

There was something horribly final about it, as if Steve had finally severed some last remaining tie to the life he should have had, to the man he should have been – his own choice this time, and not one that fate or God or Abraham Erskine had made for him.  For a wild moment all he wanted to do was take it back, to shout that he had been mistaken and that he still wanted this, this life, this woman, this person that she and Howard and the Commandos had all buried six years or six weeks or seventy-three years ago.  He wanted his life back, the same way he had wanted it every day for the last six years.

This paragraph remained the same in all the versions.

You could want anything.  Being able to have it was something else entirely.

*

Second version of this scene (the songfic version).

He turned before Peggy could speak.

He hadn’t seen her before she had left headquarters, but somehow it wasn’t a surprise to see that she was wearing exactly what she had worn in Wanda’s vision – blue dress, silver earrings, a red silk flower pinned to her right shoulder.  Whatever she had been about to say died unspoken at the expression on his face; after a moment where they just stared at each other, she said, “Are you all right?”

“I –”  Steve hesitated.  “I owe you a dance.”

Her eyebrows went up slightly, then her expression softened a little. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Under the circumstances, I’m not going to insist on collecting.”

Steve felt a muscle in his jaw work.  “Peggy –” he said, but he didn’t know what came after that.  He just let her name hang there between them until he finally added, “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t answer at first and the silence stretched out between them as the band finished its current set.  There was a little shuffling as a singer came onto the stage.

“I am too,” Peggy said.  “Sorry.”

For a long moment they just stared at each other.  The singer began to croon “When the Lights Go On Again” and Steve shut his eyes briefly.

When the lights go on again all over the world And the boys are home again all over the world –

“I still owe you a dance,” he said.

Peggy looked like she was going to cry.  “Steve, you’re married,” she said simply. “Or close enough to make no difference.”

Again, I don't think Peggy has this level of self-awareness. It also meant the next scene didn't really work, because it completely stopped the flow of action in the chapter, and this has to be a THINGS ARE HAPPENING! chapter. (The next scene was also cut.)

It was the first time that she had actually admitted it, instead of arguing it with him or using it like a challenge.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I am.”

And rain or snow is all that may fall from the skies above A kiss won’t mean goodbye but hello to love.

Peggy turned her head slightly towards the stage, her mouth crooking upwards for an instant at the irony of the lyrics.  Then she looked back at him and said, her voice trembling a little, “It was never going to be me, was it?”

“It could have been,” Steve said, swallowing hard. “I wanted it to be.  For a long time – for a really long time.”

“When did you stop?”

It took everything Steve had not to look away from her, to keep his gaze fixed on hers.  He still hesitated before he admitted, “When we got here.”

Again, written before the revised scene in 7.

Peggy made a sound like she had been struck.  Steve started to reach for her and then stopped, his hand still outstretched, knowing that the only right he had to comfort her was that of a friend, and he had never been entirely certain that they were even that.  She took a step back, out of his reach.

Genuinely, I'm not sure that canon Steve and Peggy were actually friends, they had too much other stuff going on with the both of them.

“It’s not because of her, is it?” she said hoarsely. “It’s not even because of me.  You’re – you’re really not him, are you?  No more than I’m the woman I was in 1939.”

I have some very firm ideas about what Peggy was up to before the war and in the early days of the war, pre-SSR.

Steve shook his head, a brief, compressed gesture. “I’m not him,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Peggy’s nod was just as compressed, barely more than her chin lifting for an instant. “I’m sorry too.”

There was something horribly final about it, as if Steve had finally severed some last remaining tie to the life he should have had, to the man he should have been – his own choice this time, and not one that fate or God or Abraham Erskine had made for him.  For a wild moment all he wanted to do was take it back, to shout that he had been mistaken and that he still wanted this, this life, this woman, this person that she and Howard and the Commandos had all buried six years or six weeks or seventy-three years ago.  He wanted his life back, the same way he had wanted it every day for the last six years.

You could want anything.  Being able to have it was something else entirely.

There was a Peggy POV scene that followed this one that was cut from the final version of the chapter, of Peggy crying in the ladies room and then talking with Rose. It's a scene that has a lot of stuff I really like in it -- particularly how much Peggy just Does Not Get why Steve insisted on staying Captain America -- but it completely slowed the chapter to a crawl and it doesn't work with the angrier final version. One reason I've cut every scene that has bittersweet acceptance from Peggy (there are others!) is that they just don't work, and they don't really ring true. I also think the anger's more interesting -- I don't think any hardcore Peggy fans are actually reading this story, which is probably for the best, but going by AC I don't think Peggy would just accept it. And it adds interesting tension between Peggy and everyone else, even if it's exhausting for everyone involved, including me.

[lailaxmir]

new offers, new horizons | self para

setting: some bar

time: friday april 11th 2025

summary: laila gets a new job offer, a very good offer but doubts creep in and she makes a decision she normally wouldn't have.

The bar was tucked away on a side street she never meant to walk down. One of those accidental discoveries that felt too cinematic to be real — old wood paneling, slow jazz spilling from hidden speakers, and the smell of orange peel and something bittersweet in the air. She chose a seat at the far end, half-shadowed by a column, far enough from the others to pretend she wasn’t really there.

The bartender didn’t ask questions. Just gave a quiet nod when she asked for “something red, not too bold.” He poured her a glass of Tempranillo, and she gave a small smile. She could almost hear the teasing in his voice again — “As for wine, it’s just a matter of appreciating the complexities, you know? Like people, a little depth can go a long way.” He was right, of course. He always had been, in that frustrating, comforting way.

She had learned more about wine in those conversations with him than from any tasting menu or sommelier. He taught her that full-bodied didn’t mean overwhelming, that she didn’t have to pretend to like dry reds just to sound grown-up, and that it was okay to like what she liked, even if it changed. Especially if it changed.

She held the glass now like it held answers, not fermented grapes. The job offer was still open on her phone, the screen lighting up every so often to remind her that time was ticking. A charming venue in a slow town. Clean slate. A generous salary. A version of herself that hadn’t lived through last fall, hadn’t learned the shape of grief or the quiet ache of staying when everything told her to leave.

It would have been so easy to go. To pack up, wrap her life in neat boxes, and drive away toward something untouched by memory. But the truth was, she didn’t want untouched anymore. She wanted the mess of things — the unspoken, the unfinished, the places still tender.

Laila ran her finger along the rim of the glass, remembering the way his hand used to rest on the table between them, pinky just barely grazing hers as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed. They never talked about the future in bold strokes — only in hints. A trip they might take. A new recipe to try. The joke they kept making about finally finding a red she could drink without wincing.

But then everything went quiet. Not in one explosive moment — just a long, slow fade. A silence that pressed in around the edges until it felt like the only sound in the room.

And now, here she was. Holding her glass like it might spill over with all the things she hadn’t said.

She unlocked her phone. Opened the draft. Her fingers hovered over the keys. Then, with a long exhale, she began to type.

"Thank you so much for the offer. It means the world. But after a lot of thought, I’ve decided to stay."

She paused. Backspaced the second sentence. Rewrote it.

"But I think my heart’s telling me there’s more for me here. And for once, I’m listening."

Send.

She took another sip — it was warmer now, a little softer on her tongue. Still not her favorite. But familiar.

Laila set the glass down gently and looked around the bar like she was seeing it for the first time. She didn’t know exactly what came next. But she knew she wouldn’t be running from herself anymore.

And that, for tonight, was enough.

[hbdttg]

lucius and harvey are a comedy duo. fascistic meathead culture at the gcpd? yes please

barbara’s character arc is all over the fucking place, someone please explain to me what they did to her. one second she’s out of her coma and “sane and remorseful”, then she’s positively batty with butch and tabitha, then she’s vaguely on the dark side at the van dahl manor, and now, 6 months after the end of s2, she’s just back on her bullshit and running the sirens club with tabitha? what...happened?? the decline/spiral from being released from arkham/getting rejected by jim to...whatever is happening now was not well executed

bruce-clone is incredibly unsettling and the scoring in his scenes does NOT help at all WHATSOEVER

the oswald/ed arkham visit scene was obviously art, for many reasons. ed looked damn fine with his wavy, unstyled hair (bc arkham ed is SUPREME). also, it’s implied they’ve been talking consistently for six months now...that is literally dating, thank you very much. also, ed’s voice is so low/deep, clearly a departure from s2 ed, but he still calls oswald ‘mr. penguin’ and it makes me feel things. also, oswald’s damn smile when ed presents the origami penguin...SWOOn

i can’t believe strange made a bat-man. just...a dude with nails and a black cape and who screeches in a very echolocation-eqsue manner. not to mention, in his second scene, he has a distinctly bat-like nose, and oh also BAT FUCKING WINGS. lmaooooo hugo strange was into batman before it was cool, sorry bruce, you poser fuck

someone pls explain to me why jim handcuffed valerie to the door handle of her own car. am i not understanding cars right now? can’t she just unlock the car, pull the handle, and then slip the handcuff off the handle??

broooo not alfred and bruce talking about the new alarm system installed at wayne manor and then talon just appearing inside the house, seemingly unimpeded

the day has come! after two whole ass seasons (and the 1st episode of a third season), jim gordon has finally gotten his own apartment. my fav thing about it is that our first introduction to the place is just valerie vale positively roasting the shit out of it

a genuine shudder at fish calling strange ‘daddy’. WHY

the strange creation (i don’t want to call them monsters D:) who apparently goes by the name of nancy is just...female bane. wears a bunch of black. has a voice-modulating mask contraption. fights a bunch. ipso facto, bane. change my mind. you cannot.

v interested in butch’s thoughts/loyalties/motivations rn. oswald is creating a whole smear campaign against fish, and butch is...neither defending her nor verbally backing oswald. but his silence is interesting. his last encounter with fish was on the bridge, and rather fearful, as if he’d seen a ghost (understandably), but before that he’d been struggling with his programming on the roof and actually tried not to kill her. (of course, the compromise was that he hurt both fish and oswald equally, which we can count as a neutral win i suppose.) so, as a person with his own free will, and with a long, devoted history with fish, why do we not see him trying to seek her out, or, at the very least, trying to dissuade oswald from running her name through the mud? he was so devoted to her s1, it’s strange to me that that would just dissipate. (and, if we remember their run-in with fish when she whisks oswald away from ed’s ultra gay exploits at the greenhouse, butch expresses an awed fondness for her, like always, so we can assume that he’d never actually stopped admiring her)

“don’t tease” << I’M SCREAMING (always). gobblepot is real that shit was so loaded what the fuck

<insert the oswald/fish confrontation meta i posted a few months ago here. and it’s actually my meta, for once. I HAD THOUGHTS, OKAY?>

gotham is fucked up, y’all, these people, CIVILIANS, just straight up killed people (though, admittedly, “monsters”), and they’re out here celebrating and cheering and holding a damn bonfire. i can’t with this fucking city i hate it here

“who the hell are you, jim gordon?” “shut up for once” << can i just tell y’all that i, out loud, said “ew” and chugged some wine

[also, directly following up the valerie/jim kiss with the shot of lee returning to gotham was EXCELLENT]

[night-chant]

MLQC Scenario - Happily Ever After

Happy Valentine’s Day! I know a lot of people have been waiting for the SPs since last year and I hope those dates meet your expectations! I hope this scenario meets them as well! Enjoy!

Featuring: MLQC Guys + reader

Synopsis: Ah, look at these lovebirds who just got married. After the wedding, it’s time for the honeymoon! 

Warning: Some are slightly suggestive!

————————————————————————————–

Victor:

Very traditional. Mind as well expect a real-life fairytale.

Strict with the not-seeing-the-bride-in-the-dress-before-the-wedding. (If you walked in, he’d turn away quickly as if you weren’t wearing anything at all.)

Ever since you’d walked down the aisle, he couldn’t keep in his eyes off you.

Honeymoon destination: Kyoto, Japan for the historical atmosphere and gardens.

Rose petals, candles and wine at a terrace.

The only time he let himself be moderately drunk.

If the trip lasted for two weeks instead of one, it’d be secret only you two would know.

Neither would mind if time froze even longer.

Returning to the office, he would stare at his wedding band whenever in deep thought.

Lucien:

Outskirts of Loveland, there was a perfect place for the honeymoon because it was like living in a cottage in an enchanted forest. (Waterfalls, gardens, willow trees, etc.)

The willow branches were perfect for a swing.

Took lots of photos of the scenery but especially of each other.

You looked through the wedding photos to find the best ones but he stared at the one where you were in his arms wearing the mermaid-style white dress.

You were already planning out the album: “So the first pages will be of the wedding and these will be for the honeymoon . . .”

“Is that all?” he prompted. “Is that the end? The . . . happily ever after?”

“Well, this is more than I could ever dream of . . .” You trailed off when he leaned in.

“Why are you acting so shy? We’re married,” he said, lacing your hands with his, the rings gleaming. “I want to give you everything.”

It turns out the last pages will be dedicated to your first newborn.

Also adopting was not out of the equation either.

Kiro:

“From now on, I pronounce Miss. Chips as Mrs. Chips!”

Fans were so excited and supportive.

After the grand wedding and flashing cameras, you two were finally left alone in peace in the Bahamas.

All devices were on airplane mode.

Lots of pillow fights.

His face grew red everytime you brought up how he proposed to you.

(He had encouraged you to try computer coding on his program where one of the codes asked you the life-changing question.)

“No, Kiro, we can’t have twenty-five kids.”

“Then we’re settled for twenty-four!”

Talked about fond memories and future plans until sunrise.

You didn’t need your Evol to predict that you’d have the happiest wife in the world.

Gavin:

“I rewrote the letter.” He had handed it over with slightly shaky hands. “So you know how I felt.” And how I feel, he thought.

Instead of a high school confession, you read a proposal. When you lowered it, he was on one knee, holding a ring.

Even after the ceremony, the image of you in a wedding dress was imprinted in his mind.

But what should you do on a honeymoon?

“You need a lot of flowers,” Eli said.

“Roses!” Minor chimed in. “Girls love that.”

Shaw scoffed. “Screw that. Just make out with her against the wall. Where is she? I’ll demonstrate.” 

Earned Shaw an elbow in the gut.

Decided on the South Island of New Zealand for the view of the lakes and mountains.

Despite it being a joke, it clung onto Gavin’s mind. You had to kiss him multiple times before he confessed about what happened.

You laughed. “I only want you, Gavin. If you don’t believe me, I can prove it!”

You had to provide a lot of evidence before he caved in . . .

Trust me, he was thoroughly convinced in the first few minutes but of course he pretends that he wasn’t in order to witness the most of your dominant side lol

————————————————————————————–

Hope you like them!! Before MLQC, I haven’t written romance since...idk my 1D phase lol so getting back into romance has been an uphill battle but it is worth it :) Now... get those SPs!! Pspspspspsp

Masterlist

[xx-ingie-xx]

Happy Holidays! ✨

I hope everyone has found some R&R in these final weeks of 2022! I wanted to pop in and say I'm still alive, and yes, I still attempt to write from time to time. Yes, I still plan to finish Forgotten and continue the Fortitude revision. Hopefully there's still some interest out there!

I had hoped to finish Forgotten this year, but sadly I will not achieve that goal. I am very close though! Recently I rewrote some things for the millionth time, and my new goal is to post the last chapter + epilogue before February. Fingers crossed!

I figured I should post something before the end of the year, so here's the (short) opening scene of the final chapter. It's a flashback set during the winter solstice, so it seems appropriate to post it during this time of year. 😁

---

Snowflakes drifted about the rooftops of Castletown, illuminated in the glows of lanterns that lined the market square. They settled on every shop and stall, every tree, shrub, and garland, coating the town in a fresh blanket of white. A festive cheer permeated the crisp, winter air, chasing away the cold with music and laughter that rose from lit homes and lively establishments. 

How wrong it was, Zelda thought as she tightened the blanket around her shoulders, to gaze upon something so warm and lovely yet feel so cold and gloomy inside.  

Of course, her gloominess had little to do with the scene below and everything to do with the man at her side—or more the gift he had given her that night.

He had planned it for weeks, presenting his idea only after the arrangements had been made. At first she had refused him, certain that she could not afford to jeopardize her reputation—not to mention her obligation to another man. But Link persisted, describing his many precautions and promising that none would recognize her once Impa had assisted with her disguise. Eventually Zelda found herself quite unable, or perhaps unwilling, to deny him.

And thus she agreed to sneak into Castletown for a Solstice Eve celebration, posing as a simple village girl for one memorable night of freedom.

She would never regret that choice, but she had failed to anticipate how crushing it would feel once the night was over. That hour drew painfully near, and what had started as a wondrous escape felt more like a painful fantasy...

The touch of warm fingers disrupted her melancholy, brushing away a tear on her cheek. Zelda blinked, and the hand withdrew as she quickly dried her face. She meant to assure Link that she was fine, but a pressure remained stuck in her throat, summoning more tears before she could blink them away. Again she wiped both sides of her face, avoiding his concerned gaze with a frustrated sigh.

Then his hand moved to her lower back, inviting her closer if she wished it. At first she tried to resist, knowing that the more she let him in, the harder it would be to let him go. But the larger part of her caved, knowing she was already well past that point.

So she leaned into him, laying her head on his shoulder as he wrapped her in the spare folds of his blanket. She focused on the strength of his arms around her, the comforting weight of his head resting against hers. Neither felt a need to speak, both aware that their blissful escapade would soon reach a most unwanted end.

Zelda tried to recall every detail of that night, wishing she could somehow preserve the memory in perfect clarity. She thought about the warm welcome that Clef and Siena had given her, the rich food and mulled wine that eased her nerves and roused her spirit, the joyful music mingling with near constant laughter and song… 

The way she and Link had danced together, never missing a step as they moved in time with the others...

A bell tolled in the distance, breaking Zelda’s reverie with the midnight chime. A faint chorus of cheers sounded from below as merrymakers paused to toast their friends or kiss their beloved. 

Link made no move to partake in that tradition, no doubt unsure she would welcome such a thing in her dreary state. Determined not to rob him of a proper end to their perfect night, Zelda pushed her sorrow down as deeply as it would go. Then she lifted her head from his shoulder and steeled herself beneath his gentle gaze. 

“...Happy Solstice, Link,” she whispered, bringing a hand to his cheek.

He smiled at her, despite the sadness mirrored in his eyes. 

“Happy Solstice, Zelda.”

Then he leaned in close, his nose brushing hers before she eagerly closed the gap. Their blankets fell in a heap about their feet, forgotten while they commemorated the moment long after the chimes had faded.

[smutandfluffohmy]

Homework extension

From: Smutandfluffohhmy Pairing: OUAT Peter Pan Professor! X Reader Warnings: Smuttt and overstimulation  A/N: I was listening to Yagami Yato’s Hawks pegging audio and 🥵🥵anyone have any pegging requests 👀? This is the long overdue professor smut that I wrote but then deleted it because I hated it so I rewrote it all ✋🏻 

University had its ups and downs and your English literature professor was definitely one of the ups. His British accent definitely made everyone swoon over him however the boring way he droned on every single class certainly cancelled out his hot accent.

His shoulders were broad, and he always radiated a sort of boyish charm but God the things you would do to him if you had 20 minutes alone with him. You slightly shook your head trying to erase the thoughts and tried focusing on something else. You couldn’t pry your eyes off him so instead you decided to focus on his tie.

He always wore ties with silly things on them. Sometimes they were just random shapes of different colors, other times they were full superhero comic strips but today it was a black tie with little oragami boats on them.

The lesson dragged on and you wanted nothing more than to crawl back into your warm bed instead of sitting inside a cold classroom. Your eyes shifted from him, to his tie, to the clock and to the book proped open in front of you in a continuous cycle.

“Remember to turn in your assignments today by midnight. See you all next class” Dr.Pan said and with that everyone hurried out of the classroom without a seconds pass. Grunts and whispering filled the once quiet classroom as you huffed making your way towards your car.

This years winter was hard and unforgiving and it was especially worse for you since you were used to more warm temperatures all year round. Hugging yourself tighter you couldn’t wait to be inside your car.

The radio droned on about the weather and an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. You were new here ,knew nobody and were all alone if anything happened. Your mind wandered and before you knew it you were pulling up on your drive way.

The house wasn’t necessarily yours but your aunt let you stay there and house sit since she was always busy on business trips and both of your appreciated this temporary agreement .You eyed the houses next to yours and decided it was better now or never to finally introduce yourself to the neighbors. Your aunt didn’t tell you anything about the neighbors only that she has also never met them before.

Parking your car inside the garage you got to work on a gift of sort that would most definitely give you asking rights for a shovel next time you needed it. You got to baking your brownie turning off the heater as the kitchen radiated so much heat you felt like you were burning.Carefully cutting out each brownie you put them on two separate plates and made your way out to the cold once again.

Walking down the drive way you skipped your way to the first neighbors house and was treated with a nice old lady who profusely thanked you for the freshly baked brownies and told you she would drop off your plate as soon as she could.

‘One down one more to go’ You thought to yourself as you made your way to the other house, cursing as snow crept inside of your boot.

Inside the house Peter sighed pouring himself a glass of wine trying to relax from a long day of lecturing.The doorbell rang throughout the house, Peter sighed setting down his cup making his way to the door. You stood there looking up at your English professor. Your English professor who was wearing sweatpants and his button up shirt, half buttoned with a loosen tie. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Peter asked looking at you up and down trying to figure out the answer to his own question.

“Dr.Pan! Sorry I live next door I was just trying to meet my neighbors.” You said shifting the weight of the plate between your hands.

“You’re a little late how long have you’ve been living next door?” Peter said waving you inside.You walked inside grateful for getting out of the freezing weather even for a second. Your toes were freezing as the snow slid down your boot.

“Do you want a drink?” Peter asked you holding up the bottle of wine showing you what he was having. You nodded not wanting to be rude.

“Yes please professor and since the start of the semester” You said nodding at him and continued to look around his house that was filled with different house plants.

“Please call me Peter I'm your neighbor. Well at least outside of class.” He said handing you a glass, you took it afraid of dropping it. “You can take off your jacket at least defrost a bit.” He said looking for any excuse to get you inside. Truth be told you were one of his best students and wanted any excuse to keep you there a bit longer

“Thank you Pro-. Thank you Peter.” You said correcting yourself taking off your layers of wet clothes until you were left in a tank top and wet pants and socks.You continued to look around his house 

“Here you go.” Peter said handing you the cup. Smiling gratefully at him you walked towards him not noticing the things he left scattered on the floor.Falling forward you tried to regain your balance but your foot was caught on one of the various things Peter carelessly left scattered around. Waiting for the impact Peter caught you in his arms awkwardly still holding on to the cups your faces mere inches apart.

Both of you looking at the others lips and without a moment of hesitation both of you went in for the kiss. Peter placed the glasses on the counter as he picked you up carrying you off somewhere.

“The things I would do to you.” You mumbled between his pressed lips.

“Show me.” Peter said urging you on waiting to see what you were going to do. Probably a quick fuck and you’d be gone as soon as you came leaving him with the memory to jerk off later. The kiss deepened, Peter’s hands going under your shirt unhooking your bra, running a finger across your nipple. Your hands tugged his pants off of him and taking off your own pants as Peter continued to play with your nipples making you moan against his mouth.

Pushing him to sit down on the edge of the bed you dropped to your knees taking his dick in your hands slowly pumping it. Pre cum already dripping down the shaft.

Your tongue licked it up, the sensation made Peter twitch under your touch. Rubbing up and down softly sucking on his dick but not giving his enough to get off, his fingers gripping the edge of his bed. His dick was pulsing desperately wanting some friction.

“Enough with the teasing.” He said his toes curling. “I should just pick her up and fuck her senseless” Peter thought as his dick continued to twitch under your touch.But before he could do that you got to your feet.

“Get on your back” You said getting up and motioning for him to get on the bed all the way against the headboard. His dick so hard that he was sure that if you made him wait any longer he won't be able to last long.

“Come on let me cum.” He begged not wanting to move. Ignoring his pleas you pointed at the tie he still had on.

“Can I?” You asked pulling his tie from around his neck. Peter simply nodded intrigued as to what exactly you were going to do with it.Grabbing his hands and tying them to the headboard you gave it a good tug.

His hard and aching dick twitched every time you even stroked his hair. Getting ready to place yourself down on his dick Peter was already imagining how good you were going to feel around him.

“I’m so getting fired.” Peter mumbled out as he watched you lower yourself down.‘This is wrong’ He thought to himself, he wanted to get up and walk away from this but he imagined just how good you felt since you walked into class. He desperately urged himself to stop but what line was left to cross? He already kissed you, groped you, hell he was about to be balls deep inside of you

“I can stop if you want. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble.” You said leaning down to bite on his neck, sucking harshly on the delicate skin.

“No no no please.” Peter pleaded between moans cursing himself for not grabbing you and fucking you when he had the chance.

“Please what?” You said into his ear as you blew air on the already sensitive spot you were sucking on his neck, the sensation making chills go down his body making his dick jump. Bucking his hips he was desperate for any sort of friction, any sort of release.

“Please let me cum” He begged trying his best to reach out to you fighting against his tie. Grabbing Peter’s dick you positioned yourself to start sliding down his shaft. Peter letting out a mix of whimpers and moans and you started to bounce up and down his dick.

“You feel so good doctor” You said in a breathy voice as you felt his dick hit deep inside of you with every stroke.

“Fuck. Oh fuck” He cursed already feeling himself unable to hold back any longer.

“What happened to your no cursing rule?” You said making your strokes slower watching as Peter buckled his hips upward trying to meet you halfway. Sliding down slowly keeping your palms pressed against Peter’s hips preventing him from moving. 

Peter didn’t last long, coming inside of you leaving him to catch his breathe. His face flushed red embarrassed for cuming so quickly but before he could form an apology you kept going making his dick twitch again. 

“Fuck I can’t keep going” He mumbled out but he didn’t want this to end.

“You’re the one that begged to cum.” You said going down to continue leaving hickeys scattered around his neck. The sensation making his dick twitch again, feeling himself get hard again. Moans left his lips, moving up and down slowly giving Peter a chance to get hard again. After all of this he was still going to jack off the second you walked out the door, knowing you were next door made his imagination go crazy.

Bouncing up and down faster Peter moaned and grunted his eyes screwed shut at the feeling of you. 

“Don’t cum yet.” You ordered not slowly down, watching Peter’s pained expression watching him come undone under you.

“Please I’m so sensitive I can’t keep going.” He pleaded groaning trying his best not to cum.

“I said not yet.” You said going up and down slower, your fingers going through his hair giving it a light tugged that made a moan leave his mouth. 

“Pleaseee” Peter moaned trying to reach for you.

“Okay.” Was all you could say.

Your hand reached for your clit, your two fingers rubbing tight circles around your clit as you kept feeling Peter’s dick hit deep inside of you. Your nails dug into his skin your moans filling the room. Peters face flushed hot ‘I’m so getting fired for this’ he thought to himself. 

Reaching your climax you twitched around his dick, letting yourself slump down on his chest. Pushing yourself up, you reached over to untie him. Pushing away your hair that was stuck to your forehead with sweat you got up putting on your clothes.

“I Uu should get going.” You said putting on your pants.

“Wait are you sure? You can sleep over if you want” The words just stumbled out of Peter’s mouth and he felt a bit guilty for wishing you would agree to stay.

You tilted your head to the side looking at him in confusion. For a moment he forgot who you were, who he was, the relationship you two had outside these four walls but when he remembered his face turned a slight shade of pink.

“Right.” He mumbled under his breath as you continued to gather up your things trying to ignore your pounding heart.

Sighing you swallowed harshly as you looked to the windows that were covered in a thick layer of snow. Dreading the short walk back to your home and just how cold it was going to be when you got back, as you reached for the door knob a ring rang through the quiet house.

‘Weather warning’ flashed on your phone.

“Hold on for a second.” Peter said as he walked over to the Tv and turned it on, a blue hue filled his face as he flicked through the channels. 

‘Hope nobody was planning on going anywhere anytime soon! The roads and houses are covered in several feet of snow. Make sure to stay in doors and stay bundled up. This has been the weather with O’Warren back to you Jan.’ The weather man said, standing in front of a green screen with an oversized coat and a wide smile. You wanted the earth to eat you up, all you wanted is to go home and pretend you didn’t just sleep with your professor.

Shifting on your feet you reached for the doorknob trying your best to unlock the various locks on the door with your shaky and mitten covered hands.

“You know you’re welcomed to stay.” Peter said from behind you standing in the same place he was. Your heart pounded in your ears un sure what to do next. Scrunching up your nose you crossed your arms over your chest.

“That would be great but I have an assignment due today and my professor is a bit of a hard ass.” You said tugging at the bottom of your jacket.

Peter let out a loud laugh “Well fuck him.” he said with a goofy smile that made your heart jump.

“I did. Still don’t think I’d get an extension.” you shrugged your shoulders wanting desperately to be in a warm bed and at this point it didn’t matter whose. He let out another laugh and reached out to you urging you to stay.

[zutaralover94]

Prompt #5 Request

This is for you anons! And for @dangerouspersonllamabagel​ and for @beealexageek​ 

Once upon a time I said I would never write this but here it is!

Read below or Read on AO3 (hopefully I can post on Fanfic soon. Still dealing with those flags!)

Tags: One Night Stands, Pregnant AU, Roommates, Pining, More Pining on Zuko’s half, but Mutual Pining, Rated M, there is a dabble of smut, and a handful of cursing, mentions of the series ‘The Untamed’ and ‘The Office’, Anyone see the Friends inspiration?, I rewrote this more times than I’d like to admit.

Katara woke up with a huge headache. She rolled over and rubbed her face into the warm pillow. There was a groan above her, and she shot up in bed. She looked over to see someone sleeping next to her. She let out a scream before grasping her head in pain. Her eyes closed and she put her head down to her bent knees.  There was another groan and the someone sat up next to her. Katara rubbed at her eyes. “Shit.”

“I agree.” 

Katara turned to the familiar voice, “Oh fuck.” 

Zuko blinked multiple times and then turned to her. “Oh fuck.”

Katara looked down to Zuko’s shirt and sighed, “Oh, thank God.” Katara moved out of the bed pulling the strap of her bra up onto her shoulder. “For a second there I thought we, you know-.” She ended her sentence with a soft laugh and then held her head as she stood up. “Whew,” Katara began pulling on her things from the night before. “I’m going to head downstairs. I’ve got to get something for this headache.”

Zuko patted at his bare thighs and found his boxers thrown over the hotel’s desk chair in the corner. He did his best to be calm as he searches through his non-existent memories to see if anything had happened last night. But he’s fairly sure if anything did happen with Katara, even if someone brainwashed him, that he would remember in an instant. 

+++

Three weeks later, Katara groaned as she felt her stomach lurch again. Stupid Sokka and his dumb chicken parm. Katara leaned over the toilet bowl yet again. She dry heaved and cried a little when nothing came up.

“Woah, are you sick?” Sokka pushed open the door. His face screwed up as Katara dry heaved over the bowl again.

“Yes,” Katara whined. “Your stupid chicken parm made me sick.” She leaned back and rested her head on the cool tub. 

“That can’t be it.” Sokka poked Katara in the forehead. “Both Suki and I are feeling fine. What are you pregnant?”

“Ha!” Katara burst out a laugh and pushed Sokka away. But then it hit her with another wave of nausea. Have I had a period this month? Katara wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She mentally started counting backwards. And when she got to day 40, she started over again.

“Kat?” Sokka poked Katara again with a much more serious face. He handed her a glass of water. “I was kidding. I know you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Haha,” Katara gave a weak laugh. “Right.” She took a sip of water before laying her head back on the bathtub again. 

Maybe she was just late.

+++

Two weeks later and many trips to the bathroom all but confirmed that she wasn’t just late. Katara bit her lip as she shopped through at-home pregnancy tests. She had done her research and was pretty sure which one to get. But standing in the aisle by herself was causing a queasy feeling. (That was not a morning sickness feeling. She knew the difference now.) Katara grabbed the one that had the highest ratings and another one just in case. 

When she got home, she held the bag close to her and looked around the apartment. Most everyone was at work. Katara had called in with a stomach bug. She wasn’t too sure how long she could keep using that excuse. Joo Dee was becoming more and more suspicious. 

She was almost too nervous to pee. Her hand kept shaking and her stomach was in so many knots. Katara was positive she knew the answer to this test. She was never late and never sick. She was as healthy and regular as any girl could be. Even so much Suki made fun of her.

Katara sat the test on the counter and sat down on the floor. She sighed as she looked around the small bathroom. She reached over for an old magazine in the bin beside the toilet. It was definitely dated but it would keep her mind busy for a few minutes. 

Or so she thought. She got through one article about boob reductions before she grew bored and put the magazine in the trash can. Katara stood and leaned over the test but there was still no answer. She took down one towel and began refolding it. Then the next and the next. She put them back in color order making a very small rainbow on the shelf. 

Katara froze as she heard the front door open and close.

“Kat?”

She took a deep breath in at the sound of Suki’s voice. Her hands on her stomach and she exited the bathroom with a fake smile. “Hey Suki!”

Suki gave her a strange look, “Did you stay home again?”

“No,” Katara said a little too quickly as she waved her hand as if to be nonchalant. “I, uh, took an early lunch and decided to come home and eat.”

“Oh,” Suki nodded and grabbed her lunch from the fridge and sat down at the table. “That’s good. I was a little worried when I saw your car that you decided to stay home again.”

“Nope,” Katara went to the fridge and realized it was pretty much empty, except for the case of beer, wine coolers and about three boxes of some sort of take out. Katara bit back a wave of nausea and quickly closed the refrigerator door. “You know what I think maybe I’ll just take a nap.”

Suki squinted at her, “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Katara smiled over to her friend and hoped it look convincing.

“Okay, well I’m going to finish this and go. I hope you have a nice nap.” Suki followed her with still squinting eyes to her bedroom. 

“Okay, have a great rest of your day!” Katara said cheerfully as she opened and closed her bedroom door.

Katara blew out a breath as she laid on her bed. She closed her eyes for just a moment. Not realizing how tired she was. 

It was only twelve minutes later that Suki burst into Katara’s room. “Your PREGNANT!”

“Huh?” Katara rolled over and faced Suki. She rubbed her eyes as Suki held out a white stick.

“What-? Who?!” Suki pushed the stick further at Katara.

Katara blinked a few times before looking at the stick clearly. Two lines stared back at her. She sat up slowly and looked at the two little pink lines for a few more seconds. “I’m pregnant.”

“Yeah!” Suki nodded and handed her the stick. “Aren’t you happy?”

Katara sat there stunned after taking the stick from Suki. Of course. But… “Yeah.”

Suki sat on the bed, “So that’s why you’ve been so sick. You’re never sick.” 

Katara only nodded. I’m pregnant. She placed a hand on her stomach. I’m going to be a mother. Katara’s other hand slapped to her forehead. Oh, fuck! I am going to be a MOM.

“Kat?” Suki nudged her best friend. “Kat!” She pulled the hand away from her head. “Katara! Babe! Woohoo!”

Katara blinked back at her friend. “I’m going to be a mother.” Suki’s smile was bright as she nodded. “I have no idea how to be a mom!”

“What?” Suki sat back but still held on to Katara’s hand. “It’s okay. They say it just comes to you. Plus, you’ve been mothering the Gaang since we were like 12. You’ll be great!”

Katara’s thumb brushed over the non-existent baby bump. “I’m pregnant.” She whispered again and looked down at hers and Suki’s hands. “What am I going to do?”

“What do you mean what are you going to do?” Suki squeezed Katara’s hand. “You’ve always said that you wanted kids.”

“I’ve also said I want to lick whip cream off of half the cast of ‘The Untamed’!” Katara countered.

“Yeah, but that’s like not something obtainable.” Suki shook her head with a small laugh.

“And being pregnant with no idea who the father is or how I’m even freaking pregnant,” Katara pulled from Suki and stood up. “I always thought I’d be married with a steady job first. Hell, being in a relationship would be a step above this!”

“Wait,” Suki stood up too. “You don’t know who the father is?”

Katara bit her lip and shook her head. She had run through everyone she had been with in the past three months. Even though she really only needed to know who she’s slept with in the last month. But even then, Katara couldn’t think of a soul. 

Tears started gathering in her eyes again. If she didn’t even know who the father was, how was she supposed to raise the child? Katara wiped at her eyes. She was just going to have to think harder.

“Kat, calm down.” Suki put her hands on her cheeks. “Hey, look at me.” She gave a smile that calmed her slightly. “We don’t need to know who the father is. You’ve got me and Sokka and Zuko and Toph and Aang and Uncle Iroh.” Katara gave a hiccup and a smile at all the names Suki started rattling off. “That’s plenty of people to look after Peanut.”

“We are not calling my baby Peanut.” Katara said with a serious face.

Suki held up her hands and backed away, “Okay, deal.” They stood there for a few minutes before Suki wrapped Katara up in a hug. “I’m so happy for you! You’re going to be a great mom!”

Katara hugged her best friend back. She was quiet for a few minutes before whispering, “I’m going to be a mom.”

“Yeah,” Suki patted her back. “So, how long have you known? Or thought you knew?”

“It’s been about a month now.” Katara pulled back and sat back down on the bed. “You remember when I first started getting sick two weeks ago?”

“Yeah,” Suki nodded.

“I’m pretty sure I knew then. But what I can’t figure out is like a week or two before that. Where was I? What did I do?” Katara rubbed at her head. “I remember Mai’s and Ty Lee’s wedding was about that long ago. But I didn’t hook up with anyone at their wedding. Or at their bachelorette party. Or any other events like that.” She looked over to Suki. “The last guy I slept with was Haru and that was what six months ago now?”

“Oh, I did always like him.” Suki nodded and then shook her head when Katara gave her a look. “So, there is no one else? You didn’t go partying without me, did you?”

“No,” Katara looked around her room. “See, this is what I mean… How am I supposed to be a mom if I can’t remember someone I’ve slept with in the past-?”

There was a flash of heated skin and dark hair in her mind’s eye. 

Katara’s ankles were hooked around a strong body. Her fingernails scrapping over one pectoral while the others dug into a right shoulder blade. Her teeth sunk into pale skin and sucked. A strong buck of hips caused her to release her teeth and her head fall back in a loud moan. “Oh, my! Do that again! More!” 

And more she got. Katara was hot and she ran her hands up the body to his long black strands that stuck to his sweating face. She pushed back the bangs in his golden eyes. 

“Oh, FU-UH-CK!” 

“Zuko.” Katara whispered as a blush rose up her neck.

“Huh?” Suki blinked at her with confusion.

“We slept together.” Katara whispered. Then groaned as more very detailed memories came back to her from their drunken escapades after Mai’s and Ty Lee’s wedding. “We, fuck.” Katara closed her eyes but was only met with Zuko’s golden eyes practically glowing with desire. “We woke up the night after the wedding in bed together. We still had on clothing, so I thought... “Katara’s eyes popped back open to see Suki gaping down at her.

“Zuko?” 

“Yeah.” Katara sat up and ran a hand through her hair.

“Our roommate, Zuko? Your brother’s best friend? That Zuko?” Suki asked leaning forward with each question. Katara nodded. “The Zuko that gave you your first kiss? Zuko, the one that froze our bras when we were 15? Zuko?”

“Yes!” Katara nodded and then covered her face. “Yes, yes, yes, yes. That Zuko. The one and only Zuko we know! It’s not like he is a Lee. We know a million of Lees.”

“Kat,” Suki put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re sure?”

“I can’t think of another male that I have been in a horizontal position within the past two months.” Katara let out the biggest sigh she had ever in her life. She put her hands back on her stomach. “What if he doesn’t want it?”

“Zuko?” Suki asked with skeptic look. 

“How many times are you going to say his name like a question?”

Suki huffed and crossed her arms, “I’m pretty sure Zuko will-,” 

“Let’s not tell him.” Katara interrupted.

“be ecstatic.” Suki’s arms dropped, “What do you mean ‘Not tell him’?”

“I’m not going to tell him and since you are the only other person-,”

“You should definitely tell him.” 

“That knows. You will not tell him either.” Katara pointed at Suki. “Got it?”

“Like ever?” Suki tilted her head and looked down at Katara’s abdomen, “You know that when the kid comes, he’ll probably know.”

“What? How?”

“Genetics.” Suki stated plainly. 

“Right,” Katara stood back up again and paced to the other side of her room. “Then we won’t tell him or anyone until absolutely necessary. No one can know. Okay? Deal?”

“Katara…”

“Deal?” Katara walked back to her with her pinky finger out.

Suki sighed and held out her pinky. She yanked it back right before Katara curled it around hers. “But just so it’s on the record. I think you should tell him.” Katara rolled her eyes and hooked her pinky around Suki’s.

+++

Five months later, Katara rubbed her stomach as she munched on another small bag of pretzels. She watched as Sokka and Suki pulled out outfit after outfit from the rack. Katara had only shaken her head to pretty much every single garment. She wondered how long it would take them to realize she was doing it on purpose. 

Zuko walked up to her shaking his head as he passed her a white grape juice water, “You know you’re just going to reap what you are sowing when they have a kid?”

Katara gave a soft laugh as she wiped off her fingers on her top. “I don’t know what you mean, ZuZu.”

Zuko just chuckled and passed her the opened water bottle. “Have you decided which bedding set?” Zuko picked up a package with little yellow ducks. “I heard you have to buy a whole bunch of them and put them down like all on at once. So, when Baby Peanut has an explosion in the middle of the night, you just have to take off one layer and not redo the whole bed.”

“I’m still upset that caught on,” Katara mumbled into her water bottle. 

Zuko gave a smile, “Ducks or Turtles?” He held up two packages of bedding. 

Katara looked them both over, “Both?”

Zuko nodded and placed them both in the buggy. “Both is good.” He pushed the cart down the next aisle. But Katara hadn’t moved.

She pressed her hand again to where she thought she felt something. Alarm bells went off in her head and she looked around. “Zuko?” Was something wrong with the baby?

Zuko was back to her in a blink hearing the shake in her voice, “What’s wrong?” Zuko looked down to where Katara was pressing a hand to her stomach. “Is something wrong with the baby?”

“I-I don’t know.” Katara smoothed her hand over the spot again.  And felt the little push again. “Oh my God!” Katara pulled her hand away with a gasp. “Oh, my God!” She put her hand back over where she felt the kick or punch or whatever the baby was doing. “She kicked! She!”

Katara grabbed Zuko’s hand and placed it on her stomach. The baby gave two swift kicks to Zuko’s hand. “Woah!” Zuko pulled his hand back and then broke out into a smile. He put his hand back. His fingers were overlapping Katara’s as he felt the baby move. “She’s moving.”

“I know.” Katara laughed and looked up to Zuko. His golden eyes were so wide with surprise but also looked happy. 

Katara hoped Baby Peanut would come out just like her dad. Happy.

+++

It wasn’t until they were cleaning up the baby shower two months later that Zuko asked.

“So, did the father come today?”

Katara paused while shoving a forkful of cake in her mouth. She bit down only if to have her mouthful, so she didn’t have to reply immediately. Zuko took down another row of lights as he waited. He glanced over at her often. Katara licked the fork clean, still trying to decide if she should lie or not. “Uh, yeah. Why?”

“Oh,” Katara watched his shoulders drop a little. But then come back up as he reached for another set of lights. He turned his back to her, “No reason. Just wanted to know if the father would be around a lot and if we are going to get along with him okay. Is he going to be around a lot?”

Katara swallowed and took another bite of cake as Zuko looked over his shoulder at her. Katara held up her finger as she slowly chewed. She looked down at her plate that only had maybe two other bites. 

“Bye, Katara! I’m really happy for you.” Joo Dee came over and gave her a short hug. “I can’t wait to see the little one. Bring her in as soon as you can. I know the whole office will be so excited.”

Katara nodded and finished her bite. “I will. Thank you for coming.”

Joo Dee patted her head before leaving. Zuko cleared his throat, as if to remind Katara that he was still here and still waiting for an answer.

“I’m,” Katara licked her lips. “I’m not sure.” She whispered.

“Oh,” Zuko said again and began rolling up the lights. 

Katara hissed and placed a hand over where the baby was pushing hard against her side. She winced and moved to be a little more comfortable. Zuko was to her in a few seconds, worry clear on his face. “I’m okay.” Katara pushed Zuko’s hands away that had reached for her side. “I’m fine. She’s just squishing my everything.” 

Zuko sat back on his heels. Katara tried to ignore the small flash of hurt in his eyes. He schooled his face and then rose, picking up the string of lights he had dropped. Zuko and her were quiet for some time. Katara finished off the cake and watched Zuko climb up and down the small step ladder as he took down lights. 

“Are you still free tomorrow and maybe Monday night to help me take back all the double gifts?” Katara asked to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Sure, if you need me.” Zuko shrugged as he rolled up the last string of lights. The streetlights and some small outside lights still lit Azula’s backyard enough that Katara could see Zuko’s facial expressions. It looked a little agitated, but his emotions were blocked off. 

That was one thing she was hoping the baby didn’t inherit. Her father’s skill of turning off emotions. Even after all these years, he could wrap up his emotions with practically a flip of a switch.

“I mean, you don’t have to go.” Katara crossed her arms. 

“Why don’t you ask the father to go? Huh?” Zuko turned around to her, dropping the string of lights in a box. 

“What is up with you and asking about the father all of the sudden?” Katara tried to stand up swiftly but realized it’s a lot harder being eight months pregnant. Zuko moved to help her and once she was on her feet she slapped at his hands. “Stop. I’m fine. Thank you.” Zuko backed up with his hands raised in surrender. “I just know we had already talked about going back to get that changing table I actually wanted.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Zuko shoved his hands into his pockets. “Just figured maybe during this last month, you might want to spend some more time with the father. Since this whole time, you’ve really only spent it with us.”

Guilt filled Katara’s stomach, she rubbed her hand over the swell right below her boobs. “I think he would be fine with us returning stuff.” She paused her hand over where the baby’s toes were pushing against her ribs. “I think we can do all that boring stuff.”

Zuko sighed and turned to pick up the box of lights. “If the father is around as much now as he is around when this baby is born. The baby will end up calling me dad. And wouldn’t that be awkward.”

You have no idea. Katara patted her belly with a laugh and walked (more like waddled) behind Zuko back into the house.

+++

It was one week before her due date that The Secret spilled.

“Me?!” Zuko yelled as he and Katara stood toe to toe in the nearly finished nursery. Zuko was holding a piece of the new changing table.

“Yes, you.” Katara had her arms crossed over her chest. “Who else?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Zuko crossed his arms over his chest. “It could have been anyone at this point!” 

Katara huffed and unfolded the directions. “But it definitely has to be you.”

Suki popped her head in after just arriving home from work. “Hey guys!”

Katara gave a smile and then rolled her eyes.

“I just don’t see how it’s possible, I’m the only guy-.”

“Oh, you told him!” Suki burst further into the room. She hugged Katara from the side and gave a little squeal. “I’m so happy you finally told! I thought for sure I was going to tell! You know back when you finally told everyone about the pregnancy, I was sure you were going to tell him then. But then I remembered you really didn’t want him to find out. So, two weeks ago at the baby shower. I thought ‘Oh, wouldn’t it be cute if she told him- ‘,”

It took Katara’s fogged up pregnancy brain too long to shove a hand over Suki’s mouth. “Yes, I told Zuko that he had to help me finish the baby room. He is the only one I know that could put this together.” Katara hissed through her teeth.

Zuko looked between the two girls. As Suki blinked a few times and pulled back. “So, you still didn’t tell him?” She almost looked sad.

“Yes, I did tell him.” Katara glared at her best friend. “That I needed his help with building the changing table.”

“Right,” Suki gave finger guns with a slightly guilty face. “Wow, awkward. I’m going to go cook dinner. I’m thinking something spicy. What do you think, Kat?” Suki started making her way to the door. “Pad Thai? Enchiladas? Oh, ramen?” Suki closed the door without an answer. A few seconds later. Katara and Zuko heard the front door close too.

“What was she talking about?” 

“Nothing,” Katara looked back down at the instructions. “I swear sometimes I think it’s her that has the pregnancy brain.” She gave a short laugh. “Now we should probably sort-, Hey!”

Zuko took the instructions from Katara. “What was she talking about, Katara?”

Katara ran her hands over her belly. “I think my water broke?”

Zuko gave her an unimpressed look, “You’re not going to ‘Office’ your way out of this. What was she talking about? She seemed way too happy that I was putting together a dumb changing table.”

“You know how us girls are, we get excited about anything baby.” Katara gave a small smile and tried to shrug of the conversation.

Zuko only shook his head, “Look, I’m happy to help. But I want to know what she was talking about. You didn’t even know what color the room was going to be until you were what six months along? So, how would you know to tell me to build this changing table back when you first told us you were pregnant?”

Katara just stood there running her hands over her pregnant belly. Baby Peanut moved around slightly and Katara could feel the little hiccups. Katara looked around the room. There wasn’t really an escape. “She wasn’t talking about just the changing table she was also talking abo-.”

Zuko sighed and sat down the pieces of the changing table and the instructions. “Okay.” He looked Katara over and then began to walk out. “I’m going to go find Suki. I think enchiladas would be better than Pad Thai.”

“Zuko, wait.” Katara reached out for him as he reached the door to the baby room.

“Why? So, you can stand there and lie to me some more?” Zuko opened the door to the living room. “Because I don’t want to do that.”

Katara followed him, “Zuko…”

“No, Katara.” Zuko looked around for his keys and wallet. “I feel like all you’ve done this whole time is lie.”

“I haven’t lied about a single thing!” Katara crossed her arms over her chest in defense. 

Zuko scoffed, “Right. Then what was Suki really talking about?” Katara’s arms dropped and her mouth opened but closed again. “Exactly. Do you want two chicken or do you want a spinach one this-.”

“You’re the father.”

“What?”

“I said I wanted two chicken enchiladas and a cup of spicy ramen?” Katara bit her lip.

“No, you didn’t.” Zuko shook his head at her. “You said, I’m- ha. I’m the-.”

“Father, yeah.” The smile she was holding back cracked when Zuko’s bloomed on his face. “That’s what Suki- Mmph!”

Zuko’s lips were on hers. The kiss was surprisingly soft and Zuko wrapped his arms around Katara. When Zuko pulled back, Katara’s lips chased after his. She reached up and pulled his face back down to hers. They stood there kissing for a few moments until Peanut decided to start kicking. Zuko stepped back with the largest smile on his face.

“I’m going to be a dad.” Katara nodded with a big smile too. Zuko’s hands ran over Katara’s belly. “I’m going to be a-. We’re going to be parents. Holy Shi-zues and pekingeses.”

“Nice save.” Katara laughed and placed her hand over Zuko’s. Zuko took her hand and kissed it.

“Agni, I wish you would have told me sooner.” Zuko ran his thumb over her knuckles before kissing them again. 

“Why?” Katara gave a small laugh. 

“I don’t know. Maybe so I could have enjoyed this pregnancy longer. Instead of being jealous of some stupid jerk that hadn’t been there for any of the important parts.” Zuko shrugged. “Wait.” Katara hummed. “How do you know that stupid jerk is me?”

“You remember the night of Mai’s and Ty Lee’s wedding? When we got super drunk and we woke up the next morning in bed together?”

Zuko vaguely remembers having to grab his boxers from across the room after Katara had crawled out of bed. “And so, you’re sure…”

“Yes, I haven’t been in bed with a male since way before that.” Katara gave a small laugh. “Plus, I kind of remember bits of that night. It was pretty hot. It got me through my horny months.”

“Oh?” Zuko wiggled his eyebrows. Katara gave his arm a little smack. Only for Zuko to gather Katara up in his arms again. “I’m going to be a dad.” 

Katara wrapped her arms the best she could around Zuko. “Yeah, you oh-,” Katara clutched at Zuko’s shirt. Katara felt a gush of wetness run down her leg. “Uh, I got to go to the bathroom.”

“Oh,” Zuko stepped back and helped walk her to the bathroom.

“It’s okay. I just didn’t realize I had to go.” Katara patted Zuko’s arm and closed the door. Once she was finished, she joined Suki and Zuko on the couch. Suki had come back with boxes and boxes of take out containers. Her stomach gave a twinge and Katara hissed. She waved Suki and Zuko to continue their conversation.

“So, she finally told me.” Zuko said as he opened another container for Katara. “And I kissed her.”

“Ow!” Katara grabbed at her lower stomach. “Okay that hurt. Sorry. You were saying.” Katara moved to get comfortable again, but her back began to ache and her stomach cramped. She hissed and ran her hand over her stomach. “Sorry, go ahead.”

Suki and Zuko gave her a strange look, “You kissed her?” Suki asked after a second. She watched Katara take a bite of her noodles. 

Zuko looked Katara over as she winced while eating, “Are you in labor?”

Suki’s eyes got wide and sat down her fork, “Oh my God she is in labor!”

“I’m what?” Katara groaned as a large wave of pain hit her. “No, remember I’ve had these before.” She patted Zuko on the arm. “I’m fine. What were we saying?”

“We were talking about how you told him, and he kissed you. What does that mean? Are you guys like togeth-,” Suki looked between Zuko and Katara.

“Okay. Ow!” Zuko pulled his arm away from where Katara’s nails had begun to dig in. “Why don’t we just take you down to the hospital?”

“Cause, I’m not in la-.” Katara moved again and felt the need to poop again. “I’m not in labor. I just need to go to the bathroom. Help me back up.” Zuko looked over to Suki before helping Katara up. Katara groaned in pain as she stood. “Maybe get some Tylenol too?”

Suki shook her head, “How about an epidural?”

Katara paused and looked over at her. “No, I’m fi-.” Katara whined. “Okay, maybe we should.”

+++

“Here she is,” The doctor laid the fresh pink baby over on Katara’s shoulder. Katara began bawling and Zuko kissed Katara’s forehead. He reached out for the little crying baby. He held onto Katara’s hand as she touched the baby’s foot. “Alright, we’re going to wash her off and check a few things and then we’ll do some skin to skin time. Okay?”

Katara bubbled out an ‘Okay’ and held onto Zuko’s hand harder. A nurse came by and began helping Katara clean up. They turned out some of the lights before handing the baby over to Katara. 

“Oh, my Spirits she is so precious.” Katara whispered and ran her hand down her baby’s back. “And beautiful. Oh, my God. I want to keep her.”

Zuko chuckled and kissed Katara’s forehead again. “You do get to keep her, I promise.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Katara said in between tears. 

“I’m not, ‘Tara.” Zuko’s face didn’t fall from the large smile. 

“Oh,” Katara whispered and kissed her baby’s head. “That little sigh. Zuko, I love her.”

Zuko rubbed Katara’s arm, “I love her, too.” Zuko sighed and after a moment continued, “I love both of you.”

“I love you too.” Katara leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Her eyelashes were still wet with tears. “Zuko?”

“Hmm?” He raised a hand to brush hairs from her face.

“I still don’t know her name.” Katara opened her eyes with a little pout. “I’ve just been calling her Peanut like the rest of you.”

Zuko did his best not to laugh, “You’ve got time.”

“But her birth record will show Baby Girl.” Katara pouted more. “I don’t want her to just be Baby Girl.”

“Then what do you want to name her?”

“I don’t know.” More tears started to well in Katara’s eyes.

“How about Peanut?” Zuko joked. But realized that this was not a joking matter as Katara’s blue eyes turned an icy glare at him. “Okay, not Peanut.” Zuko looked around for a minute. They hadn’t looked through any baby naming books. Zuko thought Katara already had one picked out. “What about Hope?”

“No, my godchild’s name is Hope.” Katara waved off the idea. “Next?”

“Uh, Patricia?” Zuko thought he remembered hearing that name somewhere…

“You want to name our baby after our birthing coach?” Katara raised an eyebrow at him.

“No,” Zuko shook his head. “Da-Shoot, this is harder than it looks.” 

They were both quiet for a moment. Both working through a list of names. Katara sighed as Zuko’s fingers continued to run through her hair. The soft strokes made her want to dose off. But she knew someone would probably be in to collect their baby soon. Then she could sleep. Maybe she should make Zuko stay with her if only to have him continue running his fingers through her hair. 

“What about Zara?” Zuko asked and Katara hummed. 

She rolled the name around in her mind a few times, “Zara.” Like Zuko and Katara put together. “I like it.” Katara brushed a hand over the baby’s head, “Zara.”

+++

Two years later and Zuko is trying to take the curlers from Zara’s dark brown hair. “Katara! Hurry up or this flower girl won’t make it to the wedding!” 

“Really?” Katara stepped from their room with a diaper bag and her hair still in curlers.

“What?” Zuko smiled up to her. “You know Suki will be mad if you show up late.”

“Oh, like her and Sokka did at ours?” Katara raised an eyebrow. “I believe you told me once ‘you reap what you sow.’? I think that they are doing just that.”

Zuko chuckled and stood up with Zara in his arms. He leaned over and kissed his wife on her freshly painted lip. “Love you.”

“Mhmm,” Katara took out Zara’s last curler. “Now, let’s go because you’re right. She really will be mad if we are late.”

[notquitecanon]

Take Care of Yourself // Criminal Minds/ Marvel Crossover pt. 6

TW: drug use (prescribed medication), borders on depression, self-blame, talks about Spencer’s addiction

A/Ns: I’d like to preface this with the fact i’ve never taken prescription narcotics so if I’m way off base, I apologize. Secondly, this is mostly just a filler bit to showcase how I felt different characters would try to comfort a friend and also set up for the next part.

I’m sorry it took so long to get this out, I wrote and rewrote it and I still don’t like it.

and sorry it is so long!

Other parts here

_____________

You closed your door behind you, not bothering to flip the lock but sighing as you dropped your go-bag off your shoulder. It had been three days since Emily died, and you had just gotten back from her funeral- the clock on your wall read a little past 4 pm. (Garcia was nice enough to let you stay in her Quantico apartment until after the service.) Dropping your keys on your entry table, you furrowed your eyebrows- all your mail was there and sorted, no doubt by Steve. A wave of guilt passed through you, you hadn’t even texted him since before that night. Not that you’d really spoken to anyone, most of the team was still processing- you were stilling mad at yourself.  

The funeral had been a good service, elegant and honoring. Rossi, Hotch, Morgan, Spencer carried the casket, along with two of her older friends. Her mother flew in, tearfully thanking the team for trying so hard. Somehow that hurt even more than her blaming the team for her death. The entire team placed red roses on top of the polished coffin. The pastor said pretty words and prayed over the gathering. Then it was over, and the casket was lowered. Garcia, JJ, and Spencer hugged you as you left, while Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan chose simply to nod to you.

Natasha had been following the case’s progress, and called you- you didn’t pick up, instead of listening to her voicemail of condolences. She sounded worried, and you appreciated the sentiment. You passed by your desk to plug up your laptop, stopping to look at the picture by your lamp- a team picture, taken after a case that ended better.

The kid was saved, with no injuries, and the unsub had undeniable evidence against him. The whole team was still wearing their vests, smiling proudly at each other, even Hotch- the photo had been snapped by the local newspaper and Garcia had them printed and framed as Christmas gifts to the team. You and Emily were standing beside each other, Morgan had just clapped her on the back- you smiled remembering how he was teasing her about getting home for her hot date that weekend. Spencer was listing off some facts about the correlation between abductions and first dates, making a wild gesture with his hands while Rossi and Hotch shared a proud look behind him. That had been a good day.

You opened your computer, your lock screen held another memory: cooking lessons with Rossi. It was a candid shot caught by accident. You had handed Reid (who had no idea what he was doing) your phone to take a picture of the girls together. You thought he caught the nice picture of all of you smiling- instead, you got a picture of Garcia throwing plain pasta at your face while Prentiss, caught off guard, snorted laughter into her glass of wine, JJ was beside Garcia hands covering her mouth as she watched the events unfold. Spencer clicked the button too late, but it was your favorite picture. Even the guys in the background looked happy- except for Rossi. Hotch was standing by Rossi, who had just noticed what was happened you remembered him scolding “Italians don’t throw their pasta! Especially that close to my WHITE furniture!” Morgan was barely in the shot but was laughing as the pasta hit your hair.

Everywhere you looked there were memories of her. The blanket she got you for your birthday that you draped over the back of your couch, pictures of the trip to Atlantic City on one of her Gambling weekends, the soap she left in the shower she left the last time she crashed at your place, her favorite wine in your fridge… Sometimes you didn’t notice how much someone was apart of your life until they were gone.

You sniffed, the familiar sting coming back to your eyes, salty tears welling up as you gently dabbed at your face as not to irritate the bruises around your right eye. You finally were able to take the bandages off before the funeral, but they were still tender, purple and yellow dying your face like a bad tattoo and the skin was still split (fortunately, any other bruises or cuts could be hidden by your clothes… mostly).

Fingers knotting into that blanket, you took several deep breaths trying not to breakdown again. A few stray tears escaped, sliding down your cheek and darkening the baby blue material as you half-choked back a sob- the sound was sharp, high pitched, and sad. You watched as the mascara laden tears diffused into a black stain on the blanket, and that pushed you over the edge.

Your knees trembled as you sobbed, the ache of losing a friend was overwhelming but the anger you felt was a close match. But at the moment there was nothing to hit, kick, or shoot so both anger and sadness expressed themselves in pained cries and angry sobs. Normally, you were hard to sneak up on, but your guard was down so you didn’t even hear the doorknob jiggle.

“(Y/N)?”

You startled at the voice, but automatically realized it was Steve. Turning away, you carelessly wiped at the black smears under your eyes and winced when you applied even the tiniest pressure on the bruised and split skin.

“I should have knocked, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be…” He trailed off, blue eyes training in on the inky bruises peeking from your collar and then to the way you were favoring one leg, “(Y/N), what’s wrong? You’re hurt.”

You sniffed, chest shuddering as you tried to get your breathing under control. In your peripheral, you could see Steve take a step towards you, his hand twitched like he wanted to comfort you but didn’t know how. Steve had seem a grand total of four women cry: his mother when his father died, Bucky’s mom and sisters when he was drafted, and Peggy when he crashed the plane. Well, heard that last one. He wouldn’t consider himself an expert in comforting crying women.

“I’m fine, Steve.” You croaked, still not completely facing him. He sighed as if he could smell the bullshit in your words. Hoping it would satisfy him, you turned to look him in the eyes, attempting to reassure him, “Really, I’m ok.”

Sometimes, you wished you weren’t so good at reading boy language, right now you wish Steve would at least try to hide his expressions. Your keen eyes watched as his raked over the black eye, split skin, and discoloration along your jaw.

“You look like hell.” He stated softly, shocked expression evening out into quiet worry. You wished your unladylike snort sounded less bitter.

“There’s that famous vintage charm.” You sarcastically chuckled, trying to hold your head up as you smoothed out the blanket. Steve winced at the sharp wit, apologizing quietly before rephrasing.

“What happened?” He asked, but you just looked away- allowing the two of you to stand in a heavy silence (paired with your funeral black attire) telling him a good bit about what happened to your friend, “I’m sorry, is there anything I can do for you?”

You shook your head, finding the passing clouds outside your window, always amazing how even the worst days can be sunny.

“Have you eaten?” He asked quietly,  again you shook your head. Meeting his eyes again, you watched as he nodded, affirming his plan in his mind before speaking it aloud, “Ok, you take a shower and put on something comfortable, I’ll pick something up from that takeout place you like. We’ll eat and then you can get some rest.”

The set of his jaw told you that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and you were too tired to argue so you just nodded. He almost seemed relieved when you agreed, happy you were letting him help.

“I’ll be back in a while.”

____________

When he got back, you were toweling off your hair on the couch staring aimlessly at the wall. The pajama shorts and tank top gave him a full scope of your injuries: hand-shaped bruises on your arms, split knuckles, the brace on one of your knees, and bruises in a range of colors all over your legs. If you were looking at him, you would have noticed his tell-tale sign of worry/anger: the combination of a set jaw, furrowed brows, and the squaring of his shoulders. As he set down the brown paper bag of takeout, he took notice of the unopened pharmacy bag labeled with your name and hydrocodone.

“You might not be hungry, but you should eat something. The nice old lady at the counter noticed your usual order and sent some sort of family recipe soup. Told me to tell you to feel better… I think… she wasn’t speaking a lot of English.” The soldier rambled, breathing a sigh of relief when you cracked the smallest smile as you got up and shuffled towards your kitchen table.

Steve retrieved plates and silverware from your cabinets and set them down in front of you before taking the seat across from you. It was almost awkward the way he watched you scoop food onto your plate as if you were going to wither away if he took his eyes off you.

Finally, with you unenthusiastically picking at the stirfry he loaded up his own plate and the two of you ate in silence. Until he nudged the white pharmacy sack towards you. Fork stabbing a piece of broccoli, you raised your eyes to him.

“You should take your medicine. You’ll feel better.” Steve stated. You shook your head.

“I’m not big on narcotics.” You shrugged, “Don’t like how they make me feel.”

“Are you saying they can make you feel worse than you obviously do right now?” He asked sarcastically, and you actually laughed- even if it was a bit of a bitter, dry chuckle.

“Fair point, Rogers.” You conceded, ripping into the packaging and then into the pill bottle-. Setting the powdery white pill next to your drink, you continued, “I’ll take this when I’m done eating, don’t wanna fall sleep in my lo mein.”

Steve smiled, happy that you were at least talking now, and that you were kind of joking. “You want to talk about how you got this beat up?”

You tensed, and began to shake your head- but you caught how he deflated and felt a pang of guilt, “I, uh, got grazed by a sniper first.”

You began tapping the bandage you had rewrapped on your bicep before continuing, “The rest of these were from when we infiltrated Doyle’s warehouse. I told Derek to go ahead and find Emily while I handled Doyle’s henchman. Turns out, I may have bitten off more than I could handle.”

“More than you could.. what do you mean?” His eyebrows furrowed in a  somehow scolding confusion. Ducking your head in guilt, you muttered.

“I took on 8 IRA members by myself so Derek could go find…” You cut yourself off, not saying her name. Instead, you watched Steve’s eyes widen as he opened his mouth to scold you before stopping himself.

Instead of the long lecture he had on the tip of his tongue, he settled for a quiet, “That was extremely reckless, don’t do that again."

"Yes sir,” you nodded, taking one last bite of the Chinese food before washing it down with your drink. Gathering the trash, you began to get up to throw things away but Steve beat you to it. Instead, he tossed you a bottle of water and pointed at the white pill still sitting across from you. With a sigh you nodded, placing the bitter pill on your tongue before taking a large swig of water.

Knowing it wouldn’t take long before the drugs kicked in, you swallowed another gulp of water before shuffling to the couch. As you predicted, time seemed to slow down once they kicked in. In about thirty minutes, that little white pill had numbed the sharp pains and throbbing aches throughout your body, replacing them with drowsiness and a pleasant feeling in the back of your head.

You were nodding in and out of sleep when you were woken up to Steve pulling that same baby blue blanket over you, muttering out a quiet and slurred, “ThanksssssTeve.”

“You can go back to sleep now.” He assured you, but was apparently still worried, even your hazy mind could see that as he perched himself on the armchair facing you. You giggled breathily, lidded eyes swaying away from him and settling on yet another picture on the team that sat on your coffee table. Unlike the others, this was a posed shot. The whole team was dressed nicely, standing in front of the restaurant where they had just celebrated Spencer’s 26th birthday. Everyone was smiling, even Hotch.

Steve followed your line of sight, moving closer so he could see the photograph, “That’s a nice picture, when was this taken?"

Pulling out of your memories, you answered slowly, "Couple of years ago, celebrating Spence’s 26th birthday. That’s the whole team, happy.”

The blonde glanced at you smiling softly, and prodded you to continue, hoping talking about happy memories might lull you into a deeper sleep. Sliding to the floor, his back pressed against the base of the couch by your feet, he pressed gently, “Tell me about them?"

You hummed in agreement, one finger fighting through the blanket to point to the farthest right, "That’s Derek Morgan, he’s from Chicago. He’s like an older brother to me. He has a good heart, he’s brave and determined. He’s also hilarious and a total player, and likes to tease Spencer.”

Though your words were slurred, Steve still listened, nodding along as you point to the next person, “Beside him is Garcia, sorry Penelope. She’s our computer analyst so she rarely sees field action. Garcia is honestly the sweetest person alive, she likes to flirt with Derek but he’s more of a game for them than anything serious. She has this crazy fashion sense that works for her…"

You trailed off with a smile before pointing to the next person, "That’s Rossi, he partially invented profiling. ‘was in the FBI in the 80’s but quit to become a writer, but came back. He’s basically the dad of the group. Very sarcastic, very Italian. Has been married 3 times.”

Steve quietly chuckled as your train of thought devolved, going from relevant information to random facts as your mind became hazier.

“Next is,” you paused for a yawn, “oh. me. You know me. Then there’s Spencer- sorry, Dr. Reid. He’s the youngest, but also had 4 P.hd’s at 23. He might have gotten another one, who knows at this point. He’s a super-genius, can read something like 20,000 words per minute, which is completely excessive. But he’s also just super awkward and sweet- he writes letters to his mom every day.”

Steve watched as you stopped looking at the picture, “Let’s see, then there’s JJ, who’s your classic mom friend. She had to quit the FBI, but now she’s working at the pentagon. She’s so nice, but also a badass. And she has the cutest kid, Henry. Spencer and Penelope are his godparents.”

“Then, there’s Hotch who’s pretty much our boss. Sometimes I think he’s definitely not human- the man can turn off his emotions. He’s actually part of the reason I’m at SHIELD. But he’s a good man, he always makes the right calls and keeps us in line. He’s a good leader and he’s got a son named Jack- the one I babysit every now and then?”

Steve watched as you slipped your eyes closed, “And then there was Emily. Crazy smart, an amazing profiler, total badass, hilarious. Honestly, one of the best friends you could ask for. She always had my back, and this cat named Sergio- I wonder what’s going to happen to him.”

You went quiet for a while, causing Steve to think you’d finally fallen asleep, but instead, you were just staring at the ceiling, “I went to her funeral today, Steve. The mission failed, we didn’t save her.”

“(Y/N), yo-” He started softly, not wanting you to get worked up, but you cut him off.

“We got there too late, and I let Doyle get away. I had the shot and I didn’t take it.” You admitted in a shameful whisper, eyes trained on the ceiling as a singular tear escaped the corner of your eye. “Prentiss died, and I let her killer get away."

Steve knew this pain, the loss and anger at yourself for not doing the impossible. It was a terrible pain; he’d felt it when Bucky died. Your hand had gone limp, and in an attempt to comfort you, he laced his fingers through yours, thumb brushing your split knuckles. If you noticed this, you didn’t say anything.

"He smiled at me, Steve.” Your already quiet voice broke, “Smiled like he knew he was going to get away with it. And he did.”

Knowing there wasn’t any stopping this spiral, he quietly shushed you. Hoping you’d go back to sleep, there was no point in trying to give real comfort or advice to you in this state. But you quieted, eyes closing and breathing evening out. A minute of silence went by, the only noise was you instinctively curling into a more comfortable position.

“I should have taken the shot, Steve.” Was the last thing you murmured as you succumbed to sleep. Steve frowned deeply, wishing there was something he could do to help. He’d always been a fixer, a helper- even before being Captain America. You’d been an excellent friend, going beyond “orders” to help him, and now he could only sit there as you were hurting. You sniffed again, eyes leaving the ceiling and falling to his, “I should have taken the damn shot.”

Fifteen minutes later, you had slipped into a deeper sleep. It had taken a while, but your ramblings turned to indiscernible mutterings and finally quiet snores. Steve stayed on the floor, staring at the picture until he was sure you would wake up. Then, he scooped you up in his arms almost effortlessly and carried to your bedroom- one of the very few times he’d actually been back there.  Finally, he settled down on your couch, googled hydrocodone, saw the wrong side of WebMD, and decided it’d be best for him to sleep on your couch. He didn’t know how else to help, but he’d try his best.

_______________

The next day, you’d woken up at 11 AM to find Steve still patiently waiting for you to wake up. And despite your still aching body, you valiantly argued that he had better things to do, and promptly kicked him out to make him go on his run. He hesitantly left after making you promise to take care of yourself, and you didn’t miss any of his worried stares as he walked out.

At around 1 PM, you responded to a knock on your door as you changed the bandages on your bicep. You swung open the door, fully expecting it to be Steve back to worry about you.

“You look like shit.”

Was not what you were expecting to hear, and you definitely weren’t expecting to see Natasha standing in your doorway with Clint (badly disguised in a pair of sunglasses) behind her.

“Thanks, Barton.” You drawled sarcastically as he shouldered past the redhead and yourself to infiltrate your kitchen. You watched as he went before turning back to Natasha for an explanation.

“He’s right you look terrible.” She nodded, “If you don’t let me in, Clint’s going to eat all your food.”

Wordlessly, you motioned her in just in time to find Clint with cold lo mein dangling out of his mouth. Natasha gave him a pointed look to which he responded with a defensive (and noodle muffled), “What?”

The spy sighed, turning back to you, “We heard what happened to your friend, and wanted to make sure you were…”

Natasha trailed off, knowing “okay” was the wrong word. You also knew the “we” definitely meant that she forced Clint to come, but you still appreciated the notion. You gave her a tight-lipped sympathetic smile. Motioning over your rather extensive physical injuries, you tried to joke to lighten the heavy atmosphere of your apartment.

“Well, if it hadn’t of been for your training, this could have a lot worse.” You smiled, leaning against the back of the couch as her emerald green eyes analyzed everything down to the brand of knee brace you were wearing. She crossed your living room and undid your bandages.

“These are too loose, you’ll get an infection.” She offhandedly remarked, easily undoing the gauze and rewrapping them tighter like an expert. You quietly thanked her as she tied them off. “I guess weekly sparring is postponed for a while.”

“Sorry, you’ll have to wait 3 to 5 weeks to kick my ass.”

She laughed at this, “I’ll just have to settle with kicking his ass.”

As she said that, Clint looked up from his your Chow Fun with furrowed eyebrows. You genuinely laughed as the archer tried to defend himself. From there, it was mostly easy conversation between you and Nat with occasional chiming from Clint. The company was nice, and you didn’t even mind as the conversation turned to more serious topics. You had suspected it would, so you just willingly recounted the tale, yet again.

“And then he just smiled at me. And when the train passed he was gone. I should have taken the shot.” You finished lamely, blocking any emotion from your voice. After extensive debriefings, the funeral, and Steve, it was becoming easier to tell the story. Clint had finally stopped eating,

“He won’t get far. He has the FBI, CIA, Interpol, and SHIELD on his tale.” The archer tried to comfort you. The sentiment was nice, but you knew it was more of an empty promise. Doyle had evaded the government for years, and likely would for years to come.

Both Clint and Natasha’s phone buzzed after a bit of silence, and you knew it as the universal sound of “we gotta go”. They both quickly stood, walking towards the door. Clint was already in the hallway, instinctively doing a sweep for any enemies. Natasha turned back to you, “I’ll spare you the ass-kicking but don’t think you’re getting out of dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You smiled, holding the door open for her as she left. Suddenly, a flash of uncertainty ran across her face- which you didn’t miss. It was quite uncharacteristic for her, but you soon understood when she rushed forward to hug you- something she had never done before. Over her shoulder, even Clint looked surprised. After the initial shock, you relaxed into the embrace and hugged her back.

But as soon as it came, it was gone and the too master assassins were down the hall and gone. As they left, you did feel lighter. The pain of losing a friend and guilt over not bringing Doyle was still fresh after four days, but the searing anger and sadness were morphing into more of a dull ache in your heart.

Now reading 4 pm, you were sure Steve would return soon to check on you and looking back into your empty apartment- you decided you could use some “fresh” city air.  So after slipping into real pants and a warmer shirt, you threw your jacket on and grabbed your headphones. Then you were off.

You weren’t sure where you were headed or when you’d get back, so you just let your wandering mind translate to your feet. The sun was beginning to go down when you found yourself in a suedo-familiar part of town. Looking up to a familiar building, your eyes found the prior apartment of Emily Prentiss. That familiar feeling flared back up in your stomach, but you suppressed it- allowing yourself a moment before continuing your walk.

With the sun’s retreat, it became progressively colder but you didn’t let it bother you as you continued. Allowing yourself to zone out, you, once again, let yourself wander aimlessly amongst other pedestrians walking home from work. You’re phone buzzed, bringing back to the present. Trying to stay out of the way, you found a bench to sit on so you could fish your phone out and look at the multiple texts, all from Steve.

Steve: Went by your house.

Steve: You weren’t there

Steve: Everything ok?

You quickly texted him back to appease his worries, knowing he was probably assuming the worst. Truly you regretted telling him about all the serial killers, stalkers, and rapists you had put away- that and introducing him to dateline tv. Like any other 90-year-old, he was now overly paranoid. Slipping your phone back into your pocket, you looked back up, people-watching as you enjoyed the chilly breeze.

Almost instinctively, you squinted down an alleyway- where two tall and lanky figures were shuffling between themselves. Your mind went through a hundred different possibilities- drug deal, prostitution, mugging, murder, assault… Lips setting in a fine line, you watched the interaction. Their silhouettes gave more information than one would think, and even though you weren’t on duty- you couldn’t just watch if someone was getting hurt.

Finally, you determined that whatever was happening wasn’t hostile enough for you to intervene as they parted ways- until the second figure stepped back into the busy street. Your heart froze, bathed in the yellowish-orange street lights and setting city sun was a rather haggard looking Spencer Reid, shoving a suspiciously unsuspicious crumpled up sack into his jacket pocket.

Frowning, you ran through every situation you could to make this not seem bad. With a snap decision, you were after him- zipping across the street and speed walking to catch up with him. Weaving through the other pedestrians, you finally caught up with him.

“Spence!” You called softly, gently tugging the elbow of his coat to slow him down. He visibly tensed, halting in his tracks, and eyes widening as he turned around to see you worriedly looking up at him.

“(Y-Y/N) w-what are you… where are… wh-why are….” He stammered, and you could see the wheels and excuses churning in his head.

“I just needed some air.” You explained, eyes on the poked out edges of the sack in his pocket. He quickly shoved it out of sight, causing you to purse your lips.

“What did yo-… did you-… how long did…” He awkwardly stuttered. Sighing, you took his hand out of his pocket.

“If you’re asking what/ if I saw. I’m hoping I didn’t see what I think I saw.” You softly scolded, trained eyes looking for anything to tell if you were too late. His eyes were alert, albeit red and puffy- which paired with his red and runny nose. His hair was messy and greasy, and his clothes were wrinkled- as if slept it. Unable to hold your gaze, he looked away guiltily. You pressed your lips into a fine line, hoping you weren’t too late.  

“Spence…” You trailed off softly, hoping he didn’t mistake your sorrow for judgment, “Please tell me you didn’t…”

He was quick to answer you this time, voice quiet- ashamed, “N-not, not yet.”

There was a flash of relief, and almost instinctively, you threw yourself on the young genius. Normally, Spencer wasn’t much for physical affection, but for once, he practically melted into the embrace. He buried his face in your hair and balled his fists into the fabric on the back of your jacket. Pedestrian traffic hustled around the two of you, but you ignored them in favor of focussing on Spencer’s shuddering breath as he tried not to cry. You were soothingly patting his back, wishing JJ was here- she always knew how to comfort him, and right now you were just trying not to make things worse.

“Let’s go somewhere.” You quietly suggested.

_____

After five minutes of walking, the two of you shuffled up to Spencer’s door. You were watching him jiggle the key in the lock as you thought of how to help. The walk back had been mostly silent after you’d disposed of the Dilaudid he’d obtained. Once inside, he shrugged off his coat and hung in on the rack, which you did the same. And since his apartment was -as per usual- weirdly warm (Spencer had always run colder than most) you went ahead and shed your sweatshirt as well.  You didn’t miss the change in the air, feeling Spencer’s concerned look just as you had felt Derek’s, Steve’s, and Natasha’s.

“They look worse than they feel.” You shrugged, hoping to avoid the conversation altogether. Spencer didn’t look convinced.

“As a very smart friend of mine once said, ‘You wanna lie more convincingly, or go ahead and tell me the truth’?” He asked, one eyebrow quirked. You sighed, recognizing your own words.

“I hate it when I’m right.” You muttered before truly answering him, “My ribs and my knee still hurt the worst, and the cuts are healing but still sting every now and then. I’m managing.”

Appeased with your honesty, he moved to the kitchen spouting off facts about knee and leg injuries as he went. Over his voice, you could hear him making coffee at nearly 7:30pm. He returned with a fresh cup of coffee in a mug printed with a physics joke on it and handed it to you, “I did a lot of research after I got shot in the leg.”

“I remember.” You smiled, thinking back to when Hotch basically had you babysit him to make sure he was following a doctor’s (medical doctor, you had to clarify) orders until he was cleared again. Then, there was a pause of comfortable silence while the two of you sipped your drinks. You knew you had to break the silence and bring it up.

Setting the mug down on a coaster that sat atop a stack of well-worn hardbacks, you took a deep breath, “Why tonight, Spence?”

Immediately, he tensed, the doctor frowning as he anxiously drummed his fingers on the side of his mug. His mouth opened and closed a few times as if he couldn’t get his words right before finally, he confessed, “I know we all miss Prentiss, but I just… I ju-. I just miss her so badly, (Y/N). I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.”

Your expression faded into understanding sympathy as he collected himself before continuing, “And I know Emily wouldn’t want this, and I know I could lose my job, and I know I’m nearly 4 years clean. Believe me, I know these things, I’ve run through so many possibilities and reasons why I shouldn’t… But, it just hurts, and I didn’t know how to make it stop. I just want to stop hurting, even for a little while.”

As he finished, his hazel eyes lifted to you- almost as if begging for a solution to his pain. You wished you had one for him. “It’s going to take some time, Spence. And you’re right, it hurts. But you’re not alone. Have you tried talking about it with anyone- Morgan or JJ?”

You paused, “JJ helped you a lot when you first got clean, right?”

“I tried, but I got desperate. JJ’s not answering her phone, and I’ve got to her house for the past three days. Hotch finally told me that she got called away on Pentagon business, something urgent. I didn’t want to bother Will, and didn’t want Henry to see me like this.” He explained. Something about that didn’t sit right with you, but you brushed it off and let him finish, “And no one’s heard from Derek since the funeral.”

You took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts, “Well, the important things are: 1.) You’re still clean, we got rid of the supply, 2.) You’re right, Emily wouldn’t want this, and 3.) You’ve got me, and no matter the assignment, hour, whatever, if you need me, you call me. I’ll answer.”

You finished your promise with an assuring smile, watching as Spencer returned it with a characteristically awkward smile back as he nodded. Deciding it would be best not to dwell on the sad stuff, you force a brilliant smile, “Now! when was the last time you ate? I’m thinking… Indian Takeout?”

Though he already knew your strategy, he went along, chuckling, “You hate the Indian place here.”

You scoffed, mocking offense (though he was right) as you went the binder by the fridge where he stored his takeout menus, “Since when?”

Spencer snatched the binder away, protective of his meticulous organizational method (first by cuisine type, then by alphabetical order, with a color-coding system for price range, and a special sticker for delivery options), as he teased “Since you are it before going out with Garcia and JJ. And learned that Indian doesn’t pair well with ½ priced Margaritas.”

“…Right… well, I can eat rice.” You shrugged, pretending to be indifferent, but really you were just happy he was smiling again. “And for the record, at that point, nothing would have paired well with ½ priced Margs.”

_____

The next morning, you woke up on Spencer’s couch. The TV was off, which was confusing since you fell asleep to Spencer correcting the physics of Star Wars. Slowly waking up, you winced at how stiff and sore you felt, rubbing absentmindedly at your ribs. Couch + no medicine = no bueno. With a little focus, you could hear Spencer shuffling about in his bedroom. You tried for your phone, wondering how long you had slept for. Dead. So with no concept of time, you slowly sat up and allowed your sleepy mind to acclimate.

“Oh, morning.” Spencer chirped as he moved past the living room to access the kitchen for what was probably his second cup of coffee. Then he breezed back by you to collect his iconic leather messenger bag, “I would have let you have the bed, but I fell asleep in the chair.”

You waved him off before he could apologize. Trying to clear the sleep out of your voice, you quietly croaked the question, “What time is it?”

Spencer checked his watch, “7:23 AM, Hotch wants the team there ASAP, time-sensitive case, probably. “

He answered as you stepped into your shoes and weaseled into your sweatshirt. You yawned as he finished packing his messenger bag and then stood. Pulling on your coat, you announced, “Well, I suppose I’ll get out of your hair. Call me if you need me.”

You were about to close the door behind you when his voice caught your attention, “I’m glad you were there. The chances of us being in the same place at the same time and noticing each other are astronomically, exponentially low. But I’m glad you were there.”

You cut him off before he could thank you again, with a smile you nodded, “I am too, Spence. Be careful on your case.”

__________

Still troubled from the previous evening, you spent the walk home mostly thinking of ways to check in on Spencer- but also annoyed by how far you walked the previous night. You must have walked for three hours that night, rambling in odd patterns, because it took a full hour to walk back to your apartment. (It would have been much shorter if you hadn’t of left your public transport card at home).

Finally, at 8:30 AM, you stumbled into your apartment. After putting your dead phone on the charger, you popped some extra-strength ibuprofen and took a hot shower-which worked wonders on the sore parts of your body. Finally, as you got dressed, you fielded the dozens of texts and emails that you missed.

“Guess I’m popular this morning.” You muttered, running a towel over your hair as you read and responded to Steve’s worried messages. Then you answered Penelope’s questions about if you heard from Spencer, Derek, or JJ and if you were ok. Finally, you flipped through your emails and with a deep sigh opened one from Phil Coulson.

The subject line read, “Work to do.”

You skimmed all the attached documents, most of which were extremely redacted. From what you gathered there was a satellite crash in the deserts of New Mexico and for some reason, SHIELD was tasked with handling it. Fury had decided to send you with Coulson and Agent Barton for an undetermined length of time in the desert. Great. And you were leaving later that very afternoon. Even better.

After a quick google about the weather in New Mexico in early April, you threw together yet another go-bag. You hadn’t even unpacked the one from Boston, it sat like a hollow corpse by your closet- picked through for things you needed but left full of bloodied clothes and now irrelevant files.  You stared at the bag for a moment before snapping out of the daze of painful memories and moving on to grab a fresh bag out of the hall closet.  Making quick work of it, you packed both professional and comfortable clothes.

At 10 AM, you dropped the packed duffel bag by the door. As you turned away from the door you began running numbers on your schedule- it was 10 AM you had to be SHIELD headquarters at 3pm… Your thoughts were interrupted by a strong telltale knock on the door. With a sigh, you turned back around and opened the door.

Unsurprisingly, Steve stood in the doorway- wide-eyed at how fast the door had opened. Smiling, you ushered him in, closing the door behind him before moving past him and into the kitchen. You hadn’t eaten anything but white rice in the last 24 hours, and you were quite hungry.

“I didn’t know if you’d be home. Is your friend alright?” He started, following you into the apartment. You knew the underlying question wasn’t actually about Spencer, but you ignored his worry.

“Crisis averted. Sorry for going MIA, I fell asleep on his couch and my phone died.” You explained over your shoulder as you rummaged through your fridge. You frowned at the empty Chinese containers left in there, muttering a quiet, “Dammnit, Clint.”

Emerging with sandwich fixings, you presented them to him with a quirked eyebrow. He simply shook his head, so you went about making yourself a rather pathetic look meal.

“Did Fury tell you?” Steve broke the silence with a rather ominous question. You didn’t look up but furrowed your brow.

“Fury doesn’t tell me much, so probably not. Did Fury tell me what?” You questioned back, returning a few items to the fridge.

“I’ve been cleared to take physical evaluations and receive modulated training sequences from SHIELDl.” He explained, blue eyes watching your crouched figure. You were glad the refrigerator door was blocking your face- You hadn’t told the Director anything of the sort. Could be why he was sending you out to the desert, to distract you. Impatient Asshole. After your inner thoughts evened out, you wiped the surprise off your face and smiled at the soldier.

“No, he didn’t. But that’s good, you don’t have to sit around here bored all the time. I haven’t been the best tour guide lately.” You shrugged. The soldier hummed in response.

“As much as I appreciate your help, it will be nice to have something to do.” He admitted, always careful not to offend. You nodded back to him, taking a rather unladylike bite of your meager brunch. “I saw your bag by the door, you going somewhere?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m being assigned to New Mexico- super boring, middle of the desert. Something about a satellite crash.” You told him, shrugging. You were expressly stoked for the assignment, figuring it was mostly a distraction to keep you from 1.) Yelling at Director Fury for not listening, and 2.) Going after Doyle yourself, which you had already considered.

Steve nodded for a moment, before his face knitted into confusion, “Why do they need a profiler at a satellite crash?”

Your own eyebrows furrowed, you hadn’t thought about that. There were a dozen different assignments that they could task you with. Why this, what were you missing?

“You know, Rogers, that’s a good question.”

_______________

taglist: @irishfaulk97 @viarogers  @toboldlyscream @benji-booxx@sophiiev @thebadassbitchqueen @ittie-bittie-tittie @iirelynn@quackson-love @uwu-sebastianstan @mellxander1993@auspiciouspeach @simonsbluee @getlostinyourparadise @im-the-emvp @sammy-jo1977 @thebadassbitchqueen @officialmarvelwhore@nsm-writes-world

[thatfanficstuff]

Strange Fates - 11

Pairing: Klaus x Reader; Elijah x Reader

Warnings: Nope

A/N: So I hated the two chapters I was going to post today and tomorrow. I tore them apart, rewrote them and combined them. So no chapter tomorrow but a much better chapter today. 

***

Klaus was right on time for your date the next evening. Again, you had dressed in smart casual while your date wore jeans and a Henley. When he offered you his arm you couldn’t help but run your hand over the soft fabric of his shirt. It was the kind of softness that came from natural wear rather than being purchased that way. It made you smile to discover something as simple as that about your hybrid escort.

The two of you exchanged small talk as he led you through the streets of the city. He pulled you to a stop as you arrived at a small diner that looked as if it hadn’t been updated in a decade or two. You glanced at him in surprise.

He grinned. “Trust me, love.”

“I do,” you assured him as the two of you stepped inside. “This just doesn’t seem like your type of place.”

He escorted you to a booth in the back. As you passed the counter, he greeted the waitress with a nod. “Two, please.”

“Sure thing, hon.”

After the two of you had settled across from one another he picked up the earlier conversation. “So, if this isn’t my type of place, what is?”

You shrugged. “Not super fancy. High-end steak place, maybe?”

He hummed in agreement and thanked the waitress as she brought water and coffee for the two of you. “I am partial to a good steak, but I like any place where the food is good. And this little establishment has the best gumbo in the city.”

Your brows lifted. “Seriously?”

He nodded once and sipped his coffee.

Before you could ask anything else, the food arrived. One bite and you were sold. “Holy shit.”

That grin was back. “Told you. You should feel privileged, love. I haven’t even brought my siblings here.”

“Family is important to you, isn’t it?” Despite their bickering, it was obvious. It was strange for you as your experience with family was limited and you didn’t care for most of them.

“Family is everything.”

“Then why do you fight constantly?”

He pursed his lips as he thought. “I wouldn’t call it fighting. We snipe at each other. We all believe we know what’s best for ourselves and our siblings. And yes, we’ve had some monumental disagreements over the years, but we’ve always been there for each other when needed. Our parents were subpar. In Mikael’s case, he was abusive in every way a parent can be. All we had was each other and it has been that way for the last thousand years.”

You shook your head. “I have no idea what it’s like to depend on someone that much. My father and I were always close but he had a wife and another daughter to split his time with. Then he died when I was twelve. My grandfather was everything but he was already ailing when he took me in. It wasn’t long before I was taking care of him more than he took care of me. We loved each other deeply, but I was always kind of on my own, you know?”

He reached out a hand to lay on top of yours. “Not anymore, sweetheart. We’re your family now. Even Rebekah, though she may take a bit longer to come around.”

Moisture pooled in your eyes and you wiped it away.

Klaus gave you a cockeyed smirk.

“I’m not crying.”

He leaned back and resumed eating. “Of course, not.”

“The gumbo is spicy. That’s all.”

“As you say, love.”

Date #3

Elijah hadn’t told you what to wear on your date, but given his usual attire, you decided to dress up. You wore a white dress with a wide skirt and large blue flowers scattered across the fabric. When you answered the door, he ran his gaze over you and a slow smile covered his face. “You look beautiful.”

Heat rushed to your face at the compliment and you ducked your head as you gave him a soft smile. “Thank you. You look handsome as always.”

He escorted you to a car as elegant as its owner. The two of you held hands as you drove. It wasn’t long before you passed through the business areas and into a nicer part of the city. “Where are we going?”

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Dinner.”

Well, that told you absolutely nothing. You weren’t sure why you were surprised that was all you got out of him. You sighed and he chuckled beside you.

Realizing any more questions would be futile, you just sat quietly and enjoyed the scenery. Finally, Elijah pulled up in front of an enormous gothic mansion. The property had everything from iron gates to gargoyles staring down from the roof. You weren’t certain you could have found a more stereotypical New Orleans home if you tried.

Elijah took your hand in his and veered from the front door to take you around the side of the house. “This place is gorgeous, Elijah.”

“Just wait, Y/N.”

Moments later, you cleared the side of the house and a garden opened before you. Lights decorated trees and hung in strings along brick pathways. The way the plants filled the space told you they’d been here for years if not decades. “It’s amazing.” Your voice was little more than a whisper as Elijah tugged you closer to him.

Your eyes never stopped moving as he took you deeper into the garden until you came to a small table just big enough for two. A man stood nearby with a cart of covered dishes. You were stunned to say the least. You never would have imagined anyone doing this for you, not even your soulmate. Elijah pulled out your seat, only taking his own once you were settled as you should be at the table.

He said nothing as the man poured you both a glass of wine before placing a plate full of food in front of you. It was still steaming. Finally, the man finished serving and left with a click of his heels and a small bow. You simply looked at your date in awe.

His lips twitched. “I trust you will find the meal enjoyable, sweet Y/N.”

“This is crazy. You do realize that, right?” You gestured at everything around you. “Whose place is this anyway?”

“A friend. I thought you might enjoy the gardens.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal and began to eat his food.

“Enjoy the…” you trailed off with a shake of your head. Elijah had gone above and beyond and he knew it. Therefore, you said the only thing that came to mind. “Thank you, Elijah. It’s perfect.”

He glanced up from his plate and grinned. “Says perfection herself.”

Gods, that was cheesy but you loved it. You reached across the table and took his hand in yours. The two of you continued to hold hands as you ate and talked. Shortly after you were done eating, Elijah pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a quick message. Then he pulled you to your feet and into his arms. “What are you doing?”

“Patience, sweet one.”

No sooner had he said the words than the soft sound of a violin drifted to you from somewhere closer to the house. As he spun you into a dance, you laughed in pure happiness. Each of your soulmates was perfect for you in a different way and you had no idea what you had done to be so lucky but you would thank the gods for it every day.

Your first 50 years hadn’t been the best and there were many things you would change if you could. Every moment since you’d met Elijah and then his brothers had pushed those memories further away. The loneliness that all but swallowed you at times was fading with those memories. This was your life now and it was absolutely brilliant.

[strongsassysexysloane]

Ain’t Life a B*tch - Chap 4

Well I wrote it, then i left it for a while, rewrote parts and then I reread it and am I happy with it? I’ll let you decide. 

Oh and the ratings goes up...A LOT.

. . . . . 

The weeks were beginning to melt into one. Once the first case begun and wrapped up, you managed to get 24 hours reset before another call came in. Luckily that one was a simple even though you made sure neither Ben nor Eddie made a comment about it being so. There were still certain things you were superstitious about.

Then this case hit and you knew it wasn't going to be so cut and dry. It took three hours before local PD had linked it to three other murders around the area over the past three months. The MO was the same but this time the victim was a young female petty officer where as the other woman weren't connected to the Navy at all.

The Police hadn't managed to find any lead or if they had one it had gone cold. The Detective in charge handed over everything quite easily, with only one condition. You nail the son of a b*tch and keep him in the loop. The next few days were long, you sent your Agents home at a reasonable hour while you continued to work. Alex came in this morning and you hadn't been home. She must've texted Ben because he came in ten minutes late with coffee's and breakfast muffin for you.

"Thanks Ben. Was following up on statements from the previous cases from so called witness's and didn't realise the time until Eddie came in." You happily slurped down the coffee and finished it in a few minutes. The lack of sleep catching up with you.

"Find anything?" Alex hops up on the edge of her desk, watching you and sipping her coffee.

Sighing you run your fingers through your hair before answering. "Possibly but my brain can't piece it together. I know there's something there. Or the start of something." You chuck the empty coffee cup in your trash can with a little too much force.

Ben places another cup in front of you with a smirk. "Maybe you need someone else to read over them." He looks down at your notes and chuckles. It was chicken scratch, no one would be able to read those notes. You couldn't even read half of them.

"You want to take a look?" You start stacking the files and place your notes in the top folder.

He shakes his head. "Was thinking more a forensic psychologist. Someone who's job it is to look through things like these and build profiles.." He takes a swig of his coffee, avoiding your gaze as he sits down at his desk.

You watched him curiously. He was avoiding your eyes but the smirk was coming through. You weren't in the mood or head space for this conversation and just sighed. "Fine." The stack of files seemed much heavier than 8 hours ago when you moved them onto your desk. You picked them up and headed for her office. Ducky hadn't been in for over a week, you remember him mentioning something about a talk or something in New York but you couldn't be sure otherwise you would've cowardly snuck off to his office to read over the files with him.

The stairs up to her office seemed like a mountain and the hallway seemed a mile long. This was it, you stood outside of her office for a moment, or ten. Taking a deep breath, you rolled your eyes and knocked on her door.

"Come in." Jack was cheery, smiling even until her eyes met yours once you opened the door and her smile shifted, forced to stay on her face.

Clearing your throat, you stepped into her office. Unsure if you should but it seemed odd standing in the hallway speaking to her. "Hi Agent Sloane. Are you busy?"

Jack stood up and offered her hand for you to sit down. "A little - but, ummm, take a seat."

You forced your legs to walk into her office further and gather the files on your lap as you sat down. "Sorry, I'm just working a case, looks like it could be a serial killer and was wondering - if you had the time - to look over these statements from the old cases and see if you could find something? I've been up all night, something's there, I know it but I need someone else to look at it." The words all came rushing out, your eyes looking from the files in your lap to Jack and the painting behind her. An Elephant? Where was the Rorschach painting you'd given her for her birthday all those years ago?

She cleared her throat and brought you back the case in your hands. "Petty Officer Moon, right?" Her eyes searching yours as you passed over the files.

She knew about your case? You tucked that thread of a thought away and sat back down. "Right, she's the first victim who's Navy, the other three victims are around the same age, same characteristics but the cops had nothing to go on. I know there's something in those witness statements and reports, I just can't piece it together, lack of sleep." You shrug, talking about the case was easy. She was a colleague, one that could assist you in your investigation and that was it.

Jack picked up the file on top and opened it. It was from the very first murder, your horrible hand writing notes, tucked inside and her lips quirked. "Still messy hand writing I see."

Are you blushing? Why are you blushing? "Oh sorry, I'll take that." You reach forward but Jack holds up the piece of paper out of your reach.

"I'll give it back in a bit. Your notes may connect the dots for me or not. Anything helps. Let me have a look, see what I can see and I will give you a call once I get you a suspect or the guy."

Nodding you get up from your seat and your eyes snag the elephant in the room again. "No rush, if you've got other cases. I have a feeling this one will be hovering over me for a while."

"I'll get right on it. These woman need justice. If the cops aren't willing to keep the case, we sure are." She doesn't look up at you and you're glad, your eyes can't look away from the fat bottomed elephant behind her.

It was a very odd painting to be in prime position in her office. Didn't seem like her kind of style of artwork, you remember her old place. It was beachfront, but the beach was also inside as well. In every corner of her little shack.

Her words pierced through your memories. "Gibbs got it for me."

Your gut sank. Your heart thudded louder and your eyes dropped to hers. The smile on her lips was gone, her eyes searching, analysing your movements and you knew you weren't in the right state to hide everything that you were feeling. You'd clearly been staring at the painting for far too long.

"Right, well. Nice Elephant. Thanks for the help, again. I'm going to check in on Jimmy." You attempt to give her a small smile but that didn't happen and you quickly dart from her office without looking back.

Smooth.

If she called you later with a lead you'd be a whimp and get Ben to go collect the files and get Jack's info.  She didn't call though and you wanted to follow up but thought it best to just let her be. Jack would obviously contact you if she had anything to go on.

Jimmy was still working away and didn't have any further helpful information, everyone was working hard to find any scrap of evidence or lead to follow. The crime scene was immaculate so even Kasie was having a hard time with the lack of evidence. It wasn't until 2030 that you called it a night and you all went home. Well you made a pit stop on the way home.

That night you drink, a lot. Now this case involved Jack meant you'd most likely have to talk to her again, even if you got Ben to check in on her profiles in the morning. Maybe even have her in interrogation to assist. You needed to drown your feelings in alcohol for tonight, tomorrow was another problem. You were a total professional.

One bottle of wine too many meant the next day wasn't fun. Jack managed to find the lead that you were on to and a suspect was brought into interrogation which Jack insisted on being in the room for. Your head was pounding too much to do an interrogation so Ben was sent in. Jack and Ben's surprise was obviously but you tried your best to ignore their looks and Ben's comments. The pounding in your head was enough.

The case was long and hard, lasting almost two weeks with a several long nights before you finally nail the serial killer. Luckily you managed to find him in time before he got to another woman, his basement filled with profiles, photos and plans of the next attack. Jack was an instrumental help in catching the dirtbag and truthfully it got easier talking to her as the case went on. Like the past was forgotten and you were just newly acquainted colleagues until reality came crashing back down around you.

It was Friday morning, you'd been in since sunrise due to no sleep and wanting to get these reports finished so you didn't have to think about this disgusting man ever again. Alex had just come in with a coffee and sweet smile on her face ready for a day of paperwork.

"Is it strange that I'm happy to do paperwork right now?"

You chuckle taking a sip of your coffee. "Not at all, some days paperwork is what you need after a horrible case." You sigh, looking at the report on your screen, pictures of the crime scene glaring back at you. "It's a nice wind down."

"Yes! Okay, the coffee is kicking in. Let's do this."

It's not long before Ben comes in, less peppy than Alex and gets straight to work without a word. He'd been quiet since searching the basement and interrogating the guy. Something was on his mind and you weren't sure how to breach the subject with him.

"Alright, my coffee cup is empty. Who wants what?" You offer, picking up your side arm and badge.

"Dirty chai latte."

"Black with one sugar." Ben offers you a smile, the first look you've gotten since he came in. Clearly the case had gotten to him more than he was letting on.

"I'll be back." You grab your charcoal trench coat and head to the elevator. The doors open and your gut drops.

Jack's eyes dancing with Gibbs' and her smile fades as she sees you. "Morning." So the case is solved and shes's back to being awkward and avoiding you at all costs. She'd even managed to drop off her report for you after you'd gone home last night, you'd left the office at 2100.

Gibbs hops off the elevator behind Jack Sloane. "Mornin' Y/n." He grunts, cup of coffee in one hand and his other on the small of Jack's back. He drops it as soon as they walk past, not stopping as Jack slowed down her pace, she looked like she was about to say something but continued towards her office.

"Morning." You sing, possibly too loud but hit the elevator doors button quickly. Why did the world hate you? They both had Diner coffee cups and Jack had a takeaway container in her hand. They'd had breakfast together and you couldn't stop thinking about that all the way to the coffee cart across the navy yard.

The paperwork wasn't helping in distracting you enough. Gibbs team was deep into a case and he was shouting and grouching at every chance. You honestly were glad you never had to work under him for too long. You might've quit NCIS years ago if that was the case. Alex and Ben went out for lunch while you powered through. When the clock hit 1800 Alex practically jumped out of her chair ready for the drinks you promised once the reports were done.

"Drinks time?" She danced, putting on her coat and shutting down her station.

Ben laughed standing up and gathering his things. "Think we should have a bite to eat as well."

"That sounds too responsible, Hunter."

"It is dinner time, Boss." He shakes his head as you and Alex laugh.

"You going for a drink?" Ellie piped up. Her eyes pleading for you to take her too.

"Or ten." You smirk at her jealousy and your eyes find Jack's. Her eyes divert and look back at the file in her hands as the elevator's doors open.

"Enjoy." Ellie pouts and you wink at her.

"I'll have five for you Ell. Or if you manage to escape. We are going to be at the Hive for a while." You shout as the doors close. You made a side stop to your apartment before meeting the others at the bar. You needed to freshen up for a nice night out.

Ben insisted on buying some fries and wings when you arrived. To no ones surprise Ellie never showed up, unlikely Gibbs would've let anyone go early tonight. The drinks kept coming and Alex ended up dancing with a few people before she called it at night. Ben ended up taking her home as he wasn't really in a drinking mood at little after 2000. You on the other hand were and kept the party going by yourself. Easily chatting drunkenly to a few people and dancing with a few woman until you moved onto another bar. Your head was buzzing and you don't recall how you managed to find the next bar but you did. Another several drinks in when the night shifted, the air spiked around you and the hairs on the back of your neck rose.

This wasn't how it was meant to happen but you fell back on old habits. It was the alcohol, you knew it was, because neither of you would do this sober. Your eyes connected with her as she walked into the bar in that white skin tight dress that had you feeling in all those untouched aching parts.

She walked to the other end of the bar, your eyes raking over every curve, dip and length of her until she wasn't in your purview anymore. You just hoped, prayed to the devil that she noticed you too. The bartender brought you another drink and you swirled the liquid in the short glass before taking a long hard gulp. The welcoming burn slipping down your throat, no matter how drunk you were the burn was always there and warming your insides. The blur returning and you swayed your head to the beat of the music.

Enjoying the feeling, the confidence building again with the amber liquid courage you took the chance to turn around and there she was. Only a few metres away staring right at you. Those silky whiskey eyes devouring you. When her eyes finally made there way up your body and met your eyes, she was far too drunk to be flushed, instead she sauntered towards you. Jack Sloane glided up to the bar, brushing against you, she ignored you and gave her attention to the bartender instead.

"One more please." You watched her tongue come out to glide across her lips and her fingers sliding back and forth over her empty glass. "Thought you'd be at Devil's tonight?" Her eyes straight ahead, the only hint that she was talking to you was the way her body rubbed against you again. You turned to face her, your front now absorbing all her body heat.

You inhaled her, her hair tickling your cheek and you flicked her hair to the side so you could get a better access to her neck. You looked over at the bar, her eyes on you through the mirror lining the back of the bar. Her eyes were dark, a smirk curling her lips, lustful and anticipating your next move. "Only devil I want is right here." Your lips brush against her neck and you hear the low moan, it would be hard for anyone else to hear but you were always in tune with her, you only heard her and the world tuned out.

"Your drink is here." She whispered, all breathy.

Her words had you pulling back but not before getting a quick taste of what you'd been missing for years. Your lips at base of her neck, drawing her skin between your lips before pulling away and getting a drink. "So it is." Her eyes now on yours, you never broke her gaze as you gulped down the drink, finishing it in one go. "So it isn't" That smooth remark made Jack laugh and your lips were back on her neck, her laugh dead under your lips.

"Thought we weren't talking." Jack threaded her fingers through your hair, tugging at the hairs at your scalp which only spurred you on. Your mouth moving from her neck to her jaw and the corner of her mouth before you pulled back.

"You're the only one talking." That got a shove to the shoulder and you stumbled back, your balance swayed with the alcohol. Clearly she wasn't that drunk as you. "You want to talk?" You smirked, seeing her eyes trained between your breasts. Your eyes followed hers, the buttons undone on your white shirt were now uncovering the tops of the black laced bra and you made no move to straighten yourself instead just moved closer to her, your nose running up her neck, your teeth tugging at her ear causing a moan you were expecting.

"No.." She moaned and pushed you back into the bar, causing you to break free from the hickey you were determined to mark her with. "Your place close?" Her lips ghosting over your ear and she had you undone with no touch, just words.

"Two minute taxi." You groaned as all the heat vanished and you watched Jack leave her drink and walk out the bar. Your brain kicking in and you jogged after her.

You weren't lying and Jack had you pinned to the back of your door as soon as you opened it. Her lips tugging at your ear lobe before descending, her hands unbuttoning the rest of your shirt which she'd already half undone in the taxi. She yanked the tucked ends out of your skin tight black jeans which caused you to thrust into her.

"Fuck." She moaned, her teeth, lips sucking your bottom lip between yours.

The self control was all lost on you. Your hands on her waist, you pushed her back, she stumbled backwards and you caught her lips in yours finally. Both of you fighting for dominance, teeth clashed,  tongues fought before you gave into her. You'd let her do whatever she wanted. She slammed you against the wall, her lips leaving yours puffed,sucking along your jaw and having her way at the base of your neck.

"Bedroom." You moaned as her fingers undid the zipper on your jeans, her fingers slipping inside, over your panties. "Now." You grunted, her fingers taunting you, her eyes watching your movements, your hands digging into the skin at her waist.

"Fine." She removed her hand and you groaned, pushing her backwards, your mouth on her throat, biting at her pulse. You managed to walk you both into your bedroom. Your hands sliding down and slipping under her dress, your hands moving, caressing, squeezing her butt and drawing her dress up around her waist. "Take it off." She breathed, demanded.

Your hands searched up her back, fiddling with the zipper and pulling it down agonisingly slow for Jack. She groaned and attacked your lips again. Your fingers slipping under the dress, feeling her scars and back under your touch, you move back up to her shoulders and push the fabric over and down her body. Kneeling down in front of her and she's only in her panties, looking down at you with her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. "Fuck." Her hand threads through your hair and your nose presses into her pussy before you crawl up her body. "Bed now."

Her hands work down your jeans before straightening back up. "You're still wearing too much.." Her fingers playing with your panties, you step out of them and push into Jack. She steps back and falls down on to the bed. You follow her down, your legs slipping between hers, you lips travel up her body, sucking at her nipple and then the other. She whimpers under your touch.

Somehow in between your slow exploration up to her lips, she manages to flip you over, kneeling between you legs and you can't help but bury yourself back into the bed. Her lips on you at once, sucking, tongue swirling your clit. Her fingers flicking your nipple between them, her tongue working you closer, sucking you harder, you can feel the edge, the waterfall of sensations, the ripple, she bites and sucks and you're lost. Screams, moans and her touch is moving up your convulsing body. Your mind is bliss, her words not registering as you ride through your orgasm.

It isn't until she's kissing your lips again and the taste of you on her tongue that some strength and fire kicks back in. Your hands cupping her butt, you sit up bringing her with you, she grounds down onto you and you flip her back into your bed. Your lips trailing down her throat, over her nipples, leaving wet, searing kisses down her naval and between her legs. She bends her knees, lifting her thighs over your shoulders and suck down hard. Her moans and faltered thrusting has your ache between your legs building again. You slip two fingers inside her, her muscles instantly clenching around you, you build the pace up quickly, feeling her on edge, swirling your tongue back and forth.

"Harder." She shouts and you suck down on her clit, plunging your fingers and curving slightly and she's gone. She screams and melts into the mattress, quivering. You stroke her through her orgasm, watching her has you close to the edge again. You slide out from under her legs and collapse on the bed bedside her.

The only audible sound is the sirens in the distance and your deep breaths. Neither of you saying anything, just letting the last hour catch up with you both. The alcohol now barely clouding your head. Jack Sloane was the only intoxicating thing in your system right now.  

It isn't a minute before Jack is sitting up, you jump at the sudden movement. "This shouldn't have happened. This didn't just happen." You hear her deep rapid breathing and she slips into her heels. She stands up but you quickly reach out and grab her hand.

"Wait, can we talk about this." You plead but she yanks her hand out of yours. The blissful, foggy sensation you felt moments ago is instantly gone. Vanished with her words.

"I can't do this. This was a mistake." She whispers, slipping into her dress, pulling up the zipper as much as she can and walking out of your bedroom. You quickly hop up, grabbing your oversized shirt from the dresser, throwing it on and slipping into your panties as you run after her. "Don't follow me. I'm leaving." Her voice more stern, loud but not shouting.

You thankfully catch up to her, jumping in front of her, not listening to her words or the daggers her eyes are shooting at you. With your back planted firmly against your front door. she tries to pull at the handle but it's no use. "Move!" Her anger is boiling, eyes piercing you, scolding you now. Memories from the break up clouding your vision.

"I need to talk this through." You are firm, your emotions at tipping point but you can't let her go now.

"Y/n, move now! I don't want to talk, I don't want to - see you." Her voice cracks, her anger boiling into tears but you don't move. The last two words burn like a branding iron but she had already branded your heart years ago.

"I ca-n't." A sob escapes and then the rest follow, your legs falter, knees bending and you slide down the door, burying your face in your hands and your hands on your knees. The sobs shaking your body, they won't stop and you feel like a fool. You wished you just let her go, not wanting her to see you like this. All the emotions finally catching up with you. Drunken sex definitely wasn't a smart idea.

You hear her bag drop, a loud uncertain sigh escaping Jack's mouth before she reaches down and grabs your hand. It doesn't register at first but the second,  much harder tug gets your attention. She pulls you up, the sobs stopping from her contact. "We can't do this. It's too painful for both of us. Tonight was a one off, one I won't forget but one we need to." She sighs, her fingers tucking your hair behind your ear. It was still sweaty and tangled from your previous activity, now probably mixed with tears. What a mess.

You take a deep breath, Jack drops her hand and you manage to hold your head up, looking into her eyes. "I'm sorry." You take a big breath as Jack's eyes dart away at your words. You can tell she wants to run but instead just stands there. "Sorry for letting you go, sorry for pushing you away. That job was something I needed to do alone. I can't and won't take that choice back but I wish it happened differently. I want to move forward. I don't want to avoid each other anymore. It's really hard." You huff out a dry laugh and see Jack's lips curve slightly, that was a good sign, right? But you continue. Finally being able to find the words. "I want to be co workers, that can actually work together successfully. Maybe even become friends or-"

She can't let you finish that sentence or thought. Too late about the thought. "Y/n, I can do the co workers. Anything more, I can't. Not right now. Those emotions are too painful. I can't go down that road again, not with you. My heart is so tired." She finally looks you in the eyes again, her eyes brimming with tears and you nod. Nod because co workers was good enough. You could work with that and whatever else happened down the road well you would just have to wait and see. If anything was to happen at all.

"Co workers it is." You step aside, the door now within Jack's reach and she turns the handle. "Night." You try and smile but your face dones't comply. Your emotions are becoming too much again.

"Night." She picks up her bag with her other hand and walks out. You lock the door behind her and drop your head back against it. Holding in your emotions you push yourself off the door and walk back to bed. Sleep wasn't going to come but at least you had the comfort of your bed. Although Jack's scent was everywhere and that wasn't comforting at all.

You groan and get up, grabbing new sheets and a blanket from the linen closest. You strip your bed, throwing the old sheets in the corner of your room and dressing it with clean ones. The scent of new sheets was something you always enjoyed, shame you didn't enjoy changing your bed more often. Lying back down, you pull the blanket up around your neck and close your eyes, Jack's scent vanished.

Monday morning rolls around and your alarm jolts you awake, your head slams and you cringe at the rattling of your brain and the amount of alcohol you consumed last night helped drown away the memories of Friday night but it all came flooding back again. If there was ever the possibility of a monster living under your bed you wished it would eat you right now. "I'm never drinking again." You moan, pushing your face into your pillow, hoping it would swallow you up.

You manage to gather up some ounce of strength and motion to sit up, your head still pounding but you have to push through. It's Monday. You groan looking at the sheets on the floor that you still hadn't done anything about. But now something catches your eye. A lacy strip of white sticking out of the sheets. Your mind helps you peace it together and you gather the material into your hands and for the third time this morning you want to die. It was Jack's lacy white panties. You place it on your dresser and head for the bathroom. You needed a moment to figure this out plus Advil. You needed a lot of Advil.

Biting the bullet because you'd made it this far without throwing up, you awkwardly knock on Jack's office door. You hear a stumble and open the door slightly. Jack's shuffling things on her desk, you can see her cheeks are flushed like she's been crying. "I can come back later?" You say in a soft voice. Jack just shakes her head in response and tries to smile but it just comes off as a slanted curve of the lips, not reaching her eyes at all.

"No it's- well, what can I do for you y/n?" She sorts her papers and sits down at her desk. Her hand comes out to offer you a seat but you shake your head, gripping the small bag in your hand that much tighter.

"I just wanted to drop this off. You - umm - left it the other night. Did you get home ok?" You quickly step forward placing the bag on the corner of her desk. You take a few steps back to get a bit of distance for you and for Jack as she shifts awkwardly in her seat when you got close.

"Yes, an Uber was thankfully just around the corner and thank you." Her voice is as uncertain as yours, she clears her throat again.

You nod at her words and turn to leave.

"Sorry about le-"

At her words you turn sharply, cutting her off. "Jack, don't. I think we both said all we needed to. It's done. Won't happen again, next time I'll handle my liquor better." You shift, swaying your head from side to side, your hand shoved into the back of your jean pockets. "Hopefully." Jack actually smiles and huffs out a dry laugh (neither of you knew how to handle your liquor when emotional) and the atmosphere shifts slightly. That's how your sexual, romantic relationship started last time, all those years ago.

"Hopefully. Thanks again." She picks up the bag in thanks and shoves it in her bottom drawer away from any prying eyes that may walk into her office today.

"Ok, bye." And the awkward feeling is back. You leave her office without looking back, closing the door quietly and heading back to work. Blowing out a breath that you didn't know you were holding and cross your arms. Hopefully this would get better, soon. The nagging ache in your gut was telling you otherwise.

. . . . 

Apologies for any mistakes, I’m finding it really hard to edit lately.

I’ll get around to updating my Masterlist... soon. 

[stusbunker]

Later the Truth Breaks

For Better or Worst: Chapter Six

Featuring: Sam Winchester x Emery Simmons-Winchester OFC

Other Characters: Castiel, Dumah, mentions of Naomi, OC Bandit (their dog)

Season 14 AU

Word Count: 2263

Summary: Mangled magic, dissecting illusions

Special shout out to MJ @thoughtslikeaminefield for beta reading this installment for me.

Series Masterlist

^*^*^

“What the hell?!” Sam snapped, spinning in the driver’s seat to face this, this stalker.

               “Calm down. I just want to talk,” Castiel replied brusquely.

               “Yeah, well, ever heard of the phone? Or a damn email? Who even are you?!” Sam held up his hands waiting for answers.

               “My name is Castiel, and I’m your friend, Sam. You and your brother, Dean, tend to call me Cas, for short. It’s sort of a nickname,” he over-explained.

               “I know what a nickname is,” Sam pinched his eyes, the headache had returned full force. Though he felt stable, not close to blacking out again. Not yet at least. “But what I don’t know is how you know me or that I had a brother named Dean.”

               “Had? What do you mean had, Sam?” Cas’s jaw jutted out, sitting up to hear what this version of Sam could be talking about.

               “Had. As in past tense, Dean died of a heart condition like twelve, thirteen years ago.” Sam watched the weird man process the information. “Why? Does it matter?”

               “The spell is more complicated than I imagined, they not only hoodwinked you into being in love with that woman--- they completely rewrote your past,” Castiel peered into Sam’s eyes with the intensity of a microsurgeon.

               “Whoa, buddy. Easy there. That woman is my wife, and she’s amazing.” Sam tried to get the man to relax, to realize how insane he sounded. “You okay? You need a ride somewhere? A doctor maybe?”

               “No, I am not ill,” Cas answered unironically. “Though, you seem to be quite muddled.”

               “Yeah, well, you caught me off guard. Excuse me for being pissed about it,” Sam snapped before locking onto this Castiel’s gaze once more, seeing him completely and with startling familiarity. “How do we know each other? What am I missing here?”

^*^*^

               She probably should have eaten something or sipped rather than chugged the wine. Emery was flushed with more than the jets from the tub. Slowly she was able to let the day’s disappointments sink to the back of her mind and just be. No super professor mode, no chipper neighbor filter, no patient and dutiful wife efforts, she was just her. Which wasn’t something she got to do very often, in this life or the life she left behind. When Emery wasn’t working or being for someone else, it got very loud in her head. But tonight, though the thoughts were there, she decided to just push them back, to let them hold her up instead of weighing her down. Emery decided to float above the worries in the fuzzy heat of a drunken bath.

               This was ridiculous. There she lay, in a huge tub in a huge house in an overpriced neighborhood. She started to laugh at herself, at Sam, even at Bandit, wherever he had gotten to. She was a freakin’ professor at an amazing school. This was the dream. A dream she got out of nightmares. She didn’t deserve this place, she didn’t need it, it was too much. Suddenly she started to cry, tears leaked down her face, which only made her laugh harder. The absurdity of it all.

               Emery inhaled and sank beneath the few remaining bubbles, hovering in stasis until her lungs brought her surfacing. She exhaled. Letting her bangs fall as they may, she hid beneath the mask of heavy, wet reality. Gravity won in the end, and she crawled from the drained tub and burrowed into Sam’s oversized robe. It wasn’t overly soft like hers, though it was thick and comforting, but mostly it smelled like his aftershave. She started working the conditioner into her hair, twisting and pinning it for the night. She was half-assing it and she didn’t care. She swayed absently on the balls of her feet to a playlist as she finished putting her hair up. There, close enough; she had her scarf secured before she scampered downstairs, robe hem dragging behind her like a train.

               The haunting blue of the clock above the range glared at her, shuffling into her relaxation like an unsignaled merger. What was keeping Sam?

^*^*^

               “Is there somewhere we can talk? I don’t think this is the best place to do this,” Castiel suggested. Sam couldn’t help but agree, a public place would be safer. And much less creepy, as long as the guy didn’t slit his throat the second, he faced forward. Unconsciously, Sam started driving to the bar Cady had suggested, but stopped before the final turn.

He cleared his throat. “You hungry? Emery was going to bring home dinner, but I can just get a drink—if you want.”

“I don’t eat,” Castiel explained.

“Of course, you don’t,” Sam grumbled, pulling into the parking lot beside the chain bar and grill. Appetizers and a stiff drink sounded like manna from heaven at this point in his day. Sam didn’t know why he was hearing Castiel out, but he somehow knew to trust him. To listen, to wait until all the information was explained before deciding on his sanity. Call it instinct or something deeper, Sam wanted him to feel heard.

Once they were settled, drinks in hand, Sam decided to press back. “So, why don’t you eat?”

“This is just a vessel, my grace sustains me and this form,” Cas replied leadingly.

“Your grace?” Sam’s brow furrowed and a smirk played on his lips, despite the constant tension in his jaw.

“I’m an angel, Sam. Much like Naomi, the one who put you in this situation. And apparently buried your memories. Of me. Of Dean and what brought you to this town, away from your family and your calling,” Castiel prodded back, looking for any blip in Sam’s eyes, any wavering, any weakness.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “My family? I don’t have anyone, man. All I have is Emery and Bandit, and that’s more than I could ask for,” Sam explained. “My mom died when I was a baby, Dean when I was in college and Dad right after that. Why do you think you know anything about my family?!”

Castiel sighed. “I really am an angel, you know. I’m not saying these things to upset you, Sam. I am saying them to see where it started and try and pull back the curtain, as one would say. To reveal what they’ve been hiding from you. I need to search your thoughts and it would be much faster if I could just see what was there.”

“What? Dude. That’s just—” Sam froze, Castiel didn’t wait for an opening, he simply placed two fingers on Sam’s forehead. Suddenly the pain from looking at the self-proclaimed angel started to wane, as their surroundings became overwhelming. The sounds of the patrons and the smells of the food and the beer spattered floor grew too much. Sam hadn’t realized he had closed his eyes, but just as he was about to be sick, Castiel’s fingers spread wider and a deep penetrating chill fell down his back. The nausea disappeared as quickly as Sam opened his eyes.

Perhaps there was something in his drink or maybe he was more exhausted than he thought, but in truth, inevitability had started to creep through the wall of reason and spell work inside Sam Winchester’s mind.

^*^*^

It was fine. There were no problems. He was just going to be late. It was only an hour passed the latest he could have possibly been at work. Things came up. It being his birthday, shouldn’t cause her any more alarm or distress. They were going to be alright. They were safe. Sam would be home soon. Wouldn’t he?

Emery had torn into the bag of caramel corn they’d bought for movie night as she worked through the possibilities in her head. Shoveling handfuls of the tacky sweet kernels into her mouth between checking her phone and looking to Bandit for explanation. The dog, though concerned, had little rebuttal to her teetering train of thought. He did his part by cleaning up after his mama. He was a good boy after all, and she was having a day. She grabbed a fresh bottle from the rack and poured herself another glass. Standing around stewing wasn’t bringing him home any faster and she would not lower herself to be the nagging wife. He was just late.

They had left off in the middle of a season of the latest edgy, politically charged amalgamation of horror and drama on the easily affordable default streaming service. She didn’t want to have to re-watch it when he finally arrived. Which was why, Emery flipped, blazing through the slew of options, from trending to suggested, nothing seemed to hit her fancy. When ‘Touched By An Angel’ appeared from the recesses of heartwarming and nostalgia she dropped the remote and finished her latest glass, tongue worrying over the latest crumb wedged in the back of her gum. She didn’t even want to think that they could be involved.

^*^*^

Three months before

Dumah had her doubts about the whole thing. Naomi using Michael to fuel Heaven and keep the Winchesters apart and isolated, in attempts to keep them from them finding out. It was a knee jerk solution to a problem that was bigger than the few remaining angels could handle. So, she watched the newlyweds go about their days. Invisible, but ever present from their walks to their jobs and home again. She saw how miserable Sam was. How frustrated and untrusting he was of her kind. She also saw Emery, doing everything she could right. It was like the spark that had held them over from their vows never left her. That small dose of true love from the cupids had nestled inside the woman and held firm. Her faith and her determination only fueling the bond that had been formed.

Dumah almost felt bad for her, but she had a stake in the deal too. She had an endgame, or at least a shiny carrot on the end of her stick just as Sam did. Perhaps her naivety helped the disguise, or maybe her need was that much greater than Sam’s. Either way, the angel knew that Emery wasn’t backing down. If this ruse was going to fall apart and leave Heaven at risk, clearly it wasn’t from the wife’s side of things. No, for this to succeed for as long as possible, Sam Winchester needed to be kept in line.

She wasn’t ever there long; Heaven would have noticed her absences if she lingered. Instead Dumah made a game of the randomness of them: length, location, and target all varied. Occasionally it was just her and the dog, sitting in the winter afternoons. It was on the last week of their first month together that she had started hearing the prayers that Emery had been offering up to the Father that never listened.

‘Make this work. Mold us into what is needed for your good works. Let me be enough.’

In the early morning hours, Dumah entered the den and watched Sam toss and turn. He had continued to refuse his wife’s offers to share their bed again. It was there, in Sam’s dreams, the maladjusted angel started building the bridge in his mind, slowly and carefully. She left, just as secretly as she arrived, but not before leaving something upstairs, an innocuous physical aid to bolster the fledgling marriage before it imploded.

^*^*^

“How did you meet Emery, Sam?” Castiel changed the subject on a dime, causing Sam to gasp as he gathered his bearings.

“Uh, a co-worker introduced us,” Sam nodded, a tired smile barely registering on his face. “What does that have to do with anything? Did you see my thoughts or just shove some serious vertigo at me?”

Cas didn’t flinch. “How long did you date?”

“Not long, why?” Sam signaled the bartender for another drink, before realizing Castiel hadn’t touched his.

“Why did you move here? Isn’t it odd to leave one place and pick up somewhere completely different? Especially between terms.”

“Emery got offered a better position,” Sam shrugged. “Listen, I’m all for playing nice here, but you still haven’t convinced me of anything. How are we somehow being used by angels? I mean, you make them sound like the bad guys.”

Castiel didn’t answer right away, instead he grimaced and thought about how to approach Sam, now that he had no history with him. As if he was a stranger needed convincing for the sake of someone, he thought dead.

“You said Dean died while you were in school. Were you with him when it happened?”

“I was—” Sam broke off as his mind reeled, a broken heaving Dean sprawled out on the floor of a stranger’s house. Blood was everywhere, his clothes and his body beneath them, torn to shreds by some invisible force. He closed his eyes, trying to see the memory he thought he knew. Only to be met by another image of Dean, older than he ever could have been. Heavy with anguish and satisfaction, his handsome face mutilated when he looked into Sam’s eyes. A single phrase surfaced, like a fist working against a thick pane, ‘proud of us’ pummeled repeatedly, until it broke through the barrier in Sam’s mind.

The moment Sam was back, Castiel saw it. In his eyes, the set of his shoulders, the tension in his hands. Sam gasped, and gritted his teeth. “Is Dean gone?”

The need to know flooding past the grief and bewilderment.

“I don’t know,” Castiel answered. “That’s what we’ve got to figure out.”

^*^*^

Read On: Older Bonds and Deeper Ties

[lyrium-lavellan]

Copper Marigolds

In an instant, Varric’s whole world changed. He’d just fallen out of the Fade, turned back, and saw the Inquisitor glowing. Although, not a rarity for her, it was different this time. It wasn’t the Anchor. It was... her. 

Before he could call out to her, she’d created a wall of fire around herself, burning the remaining demons and corrupted Wardens to ash. He could see her outline behind the magically summoned flames, kneeling on the stones, her arms outstretched trying to maintain the barrier.

He ran through the flames without thinking, dropping Bianca as the barrier parted to allow him in. Cassandra tried to follow, but the gap closed after he entered.

The woman he found behind those flames was not Vel. Or at least, she was not the Vel he remembered.

His Vel, the Dalish with eyes softer than warm summer rain and a smile sweeter than her favorite cakes. Enthusiastic and kind, who happily recalls her dreams at breakfast for all who will listen. The woman who weaves flower crowns for children, keeping hers until it has long since wilted away. Who mumbles incoherent elven in her sleep, who hates to wear her hair long. The innocent, sweet thing who cried when she killed a dragon and who blushes all the way to the tips of her ears when embarrassed.

This woman was Vel beneath all that - the broken core of her being. Her face was contorted in a guttural scream, blood dripping from her nose down onto her armor. There was fear in her eyes unlike anything he’d ever seen before. She was not simply afraid - she was terrified. She gripped her left hand with her right, clawing at it as she cried. She was scared of herself.

She dropped to her knees, battered and bruised, and the wall of fire that had protected her collapsed around them. Varric dove to catch her in his arms, rocking her against his chest as she sobbed. Her hands shook. Her entire body shook.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She repeats the broken syllables, again and again, voice hoarse and gravelly. “I didn’t... I’m not... It was an accident... I can’t!” she stared at her hands in shock and disbelief - soft, dainty hands which still glowed with the remnants of the magic flames she’d called forth.

“Shh, Clover. I’m here. Everything’s gonna be alright.” Varric pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes the blood from her face, trying not to smear it further. Her head lolls against his hand and she looks up at him with the same lyrium-blue eyes, now bloodshot and brimming with tears. Wet teardrops roll down her cheeks and over his fingers, but he doesn’t wipe them away.

“Don’t let them take me. Please don’t let them take me!” Vel cries out, reaching up to grip the collar of Varric’s duster. He pulls her in closer, forming himself into a protective shield around her.

“Nobody’s gonna take you from me. Not ever.” He speaks, slow and soft, pulling her hair back from her face and tucking her legs over his arm. It was at that moment he realized he’d left Bianca behind, tossed her to the side before he ran into the wall of flames. Shit...

He knew what he had to do. It reminded him of Hawke, what he’d said before they left for the fortress:

Bianca’s a memory, Varric. You’ll never get her back. So stop dwelling on the past and start thinking about the future. The Inquisitor cares for you, and I know you care for her too. I’ve seen how you look at her. We all have. Just say it. Tell her.

“I love you, Vel. I’ll always keep you safe. I promise.” Varric’s voice faltered, the words falling from his lips in a graceless whisper. He pulled her tighter still, his knees aching from pressing against the hard stone. He could feel her breathing slow, cool tears dripping onto his chest as she calms.

“Don’t leave me, Varric. Please...” Vel says, a pitiful whimper escaping her lips.

“I’m not going anywhere, Clover.” Varric murmurs, his voice quieter now than it was. He pulls himself to his feet, carrying Vel with ease. She truly was a wisp of a thing, though her long legs hung awkwardly over the side of his arm. Cassandra was the first to speak.

“A mage? How could she hide that? Why?” The Seeker asks, just as shocked as the rest of the witnesses. Varric does not reply, instead focused on Vel’s white-knuckled fists clenched onto the lapels of his duster. He keeps walking, not stopping until he finds a suitable mount for the two of them.

There will be no copper marigolds in this tale. No, their story is silver moonlight and a stolen kiss. Honeyed words and strong wine, scandalous secrets shared in the dark. Their story is crimson silk and clover flowers.

His mind lingered on the words long after she’d fallen asleep, slumped in his arms on the cart ride back to Skyhold. He rewrote the first few paragraphs in his head, longing for a pen and paper. For the time being, he’d simply have to remember it.

[featherquillpen]

Can I ask for 1, 3, 4, 5, 11, and 14 for "Into the Woods"? (...I know it's from 2014 but it's still one of my favorite Animorphs fics so I just wanna know the facts.)

Thank you so much! (@ everyone else: “Into the Woods” is a standalone, late-series Animorphs fic.)

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

I wrote this fic for Animorphs Secret Santa, and MademoisellePlume wanted a fic about Jake and Rachel’s dynamic, which is one that I love. In terms of the specific themes of this fic – as with so much of my writing inspiration, it comes from spite.

#37: The Weakness is centered on the Jake/Rachel dynamic, and it’s my least favorite book in the series. Just thinking about it makes me grit my teeth. Everyone’s characterization is off, but Jake and Rachel’s dynamic is especially bad. This book makes it out like Rachel desperately wants to prove that she’s tough enough to replace Jake as leader. Rachel does not need to prove that. She doesn’t want to prove that. She often resents Jake’s leadership because of how he uses her, but she always accepts it, and she has never wanted to take his place, ever. Worse, Jake would never name Rachel has his replacement leader, ever. Jake is very careful how he uses Rachel – he enables her reckless, violent tendencies when he deems them necessary, and reins them in when he feels they would do harm. He would know she couldn’t be leader, he would know it has to be Marco.

Because I find this book such an infuriating misreading of Jake and Rachel’s dynamic, I wanted to write a fic that highlights all the ways in which Jake and Rachel are not rivals for power and leadership, the ways in which there’s a give and take between them, like a king and his vassal knight. (Also, in my fic, Jake and Rachel are not rivals for Cassie’s affection, they both kiss her and in the end they’re both okay with that.)

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

It’s one of my favorite dreams. I wake up feeling so much less tired.

I like this bit because it turns the last paragraph on its head: it seems like I’m describing a nightmare, but Jake actually finds it reassuring. This fic (and, I would argue, canon) is all about finding the unsettling to be reassuring, and finding the normal to be unsettling.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

“Don’t play dumb. You hold my leash. You’re the reason I need one.”

Basically, Rachel is saying: you’re responsible for what you create. Rachel didn’t start the series as a Blood Knight; Jake helped to push her into becoming one, because he needed one. And because he did this to her, he’s responsible for making sure she doesn’t go too far. 

5: What part was hardest to write?

The parts about Jake and Rachel sharing a bed. I wanted to make sure these bits came off as a form of childish comfort, not as subtextual incest. I have lots of childhood memories of playing outside with my cousins all day, having dinner and sips of wine from our aunts and uncles, and collapsing together on a bed in exhaustion. I reread and rewrote these bits to evoke that kind of experience, without the possible sexual implications of sharing a bed. Same with writing the bits where Jake imagines Rachel and Cassie kissing – I wanted to show his fascination with the idea without making it incestuous with Rachel.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I like this fic as a way to unite science fiction and fairytale. Jake and Rachel are mirrors in this fic, and we know from fairytales that mirrors can tell us uncomfortable truths. Jake and Rachel and Cassie are haunted by dreams in this fic, and fairytales tell us that those, too, are uncomfortable truths within us. Fairytales help us understand people who are shapeshifters and monsters. It’s a fairytale, but I wrote it, so it’s queer now. 

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

Around the time I wrote this fic, I started thinking about Animorphs in terms of the literary concept of the green world. The green world is a wild place outside of civilization, a place of pure desire where the rules of human civilization do not apply. In stories like A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the characters go into the woods to sort out their desires and resolve their conflicts, then re-emerge into the normal world.

I think this literary concept applies to Animorphs. In the normal world, the Animorphs must follow strict rules: not just the normal rules of society, but they also have to wage a secret war and conceal the truth. But when they go into the woods beyond Cassie’s barn, or to the Hork-Bajir valley, these strict rules no longer apply. Ax and the Hork-Bajir can be openly alien, the Animorphs can be fully themselves. It’s also a place for different sorts of relationships that cannot be fully expressed in the normal world: Ax and Tobias’s friendship, Rachel and Tobias’s relationship, breaking across species lines.

In Into the Woods, I explore the woods as a place where queer and polyamorous relationships can happen – and as a place where Jake and Rachel feel more comfortable than in the normal world. Jake says at the end that he’s not sure he and Rachel can ever go back, the way the characters do in Shakespeare plays. I’ve carried this concept forward into other Animorphs fics. So I guess if there’s anything I want readers to learn, it’s about the green world as a literary concept with a lot of relevance to Animorphs. 

[wintrcaptn]

All For Show Pt.2 | Steve Rogers

Summary : You ask Steve to be your fake boyfriend so your sister doesn’t give you crap for being single all the time. But as feelings emerge, it becomes harder to keep up the act.

A/N : Soi rewrote this entire part! It’s completely different from how it was. Hope you enjoy!!

Read Part One Here

The sound of your phone going off, forced your eyes to flutter open and wake you up.

“Hello?” You said sleepily.

“Hey! Tony and I are able to come over tonight, so we should be there around 8?” Your sister said on the other end of the phone.

You say up, furrowing your brows, as your hand rubbed your temples

“Wait, what?” You asked confused. “Coming over for what?”

“You and Steve invited us over for some wine and dinner while you and I go over the seating chart for the wedding. Remember?”

Suddenly, it all hit you. It was right before you were leaving, your sister was having another panic attack about the planning and you decided to be helpful. Though you were pretty drunk.

“I think it will be fun! Plus, I don’t mind getting to know Steve a lot more.” She muttered. “He’s so amazing.”

“Right. Yeah—sorry I forgot. But um—“

“Figured, you were pretty wasted.” She cut you off. “Anyways, we will be over tonight, okay? I got to go! Love you!”

“But—-“ before you could even say another word, the line ended and you were left alone.

You glanced around the room, realizing just how single it looked. There was no way she was going to believe you and Steve were together for a year without any proof. There were no pictures. Not even the slightest touch of him living there.

Suddenly, your stomach knotted up. And you were beginning to freak out.

As you pulled yourself out of bed, you dialed for Steve’s number.

It didn’t take long for him to answer.

“Hey babe!” He said with a soft chuckle.

The way he said the word babe made you stop in your steps and form a little smile. It wasn’t anything big but hearing it made your heart flutter.

“What’s up?” He asked, snapping you out of your daze.

In an instant, you went back to panicking when you remembered why you called.

“My sister and her fiancé are coming over tonight and I need you and some of your shit to make it look like you live with me.”

Though you wouldn’t know, Steve had a smile on his face, as he shook his head. He could imagine you pacing back and forth in your room, nervously picking at your nails. Something you did when you worried.

“Going in for double time?” He chuckled. “Now that’s gonna cost you even more!”

“Come on!”

“You still owe me Riley’s number, remember?”

In that moment, you swore you were just punched in the stomach. Last night, you were so caught up in the moment, caught up in your feelings, you completely forgot about Riley. Until now.

A part of you wished he had forgotten too, but you knew nothing could ever come from this. It was just pretend. Nothing more. But it still hurt you to no end.

Letting out a breath, you decided to shake off whatever this feeling was and move on from it. Thinking of it as just a job.

“Do this for me and I’ll buy you dinner for an entire month and I’ll give you Riley’s number tonight.” You said. “Just please, do this for me.”

Steve could here the desperation in your voice and though he enjoyed making you beg, he decided to cave in.

“Alright. Deal.” He muttered. “What time should I—“

“Come over as soon as possible.”

“Okay, I just got to pack a few things then I’ll be right over.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“Don’t worry about it, doll. I’ll see you soon.”

The call ended and just like that you were a flustering mess. Those little names he called you always made your stomach flutter.

And though you loved to hear it, you knew you shouldn’t think much of it. This was just pretend. None of it was real.

——

A few hours had passed and your best friend made his way over. He had two duffel bags filled with some of his stuff, and also brought some take out.

“You really stopped to get food?” You asked, chuckling to yourself as you waved him in.

He shrugged his shoulders walking passed you and into the living room area.

“Thought we could have an early lunch while we make this place look like a guy actually lives here.” He teased, setting his bags down.

You nodded in agreement, closing the door. “Good thinking. Because I’m starving.”

“I know.” He said with a smirk. “You forget to eat when you’re freaking out.”

You dramatically rolled your eyes, and made your way over to him. As you started to pull the food out, you couldn’t help but grin. It was your favorite dish from this little Restaurant across town. Steve always remembered little things like that. Which made you fall for him even more.

“So I didn’t know exactly what to bring but then I thought what Would be important.” Steve said, snapping you out of your daze. He then started to pull some of the stuff out of his duffel bag.

“Ok cool. You can just start putting them anywhere.” You said

Steve pulled out some posters of his favorite movies and started pinning them up all over.

As you say there for a bit, eating and watching him add his belongings with yours, you were beginning to like the idea of him living with you.

You never lived with a boyfriend, and never allowed anything but a toothbrush and maybe pajamas, but that was it.

Seeing Steve’s stuff sprawled all around your apartment, it felt complete.

Even when he covered you back desk with his art supplies. Drawing and painting was his way of releasing stress. He loved it more than anything. But he would never show you or anyone his work.

“Remember this?” Steve asked something out of his bag.

The second your eyes fell on it, you knew exactly what it was. “Squirtle! It’s my turtle I gave you when you had that nasty cold—wasn’t that a few months after I met you?”

He nodded. “Yeah, almost four years ago.”

A smile formed on your lips as you took the stuffed turtle into your hands. You gazed over the little face, and immediately, memories of that day flooded your mind.

Steve was sick, and didn’t even want to get out of bed. So you decided to head over and make him some soup. But you didn’t leave without taking your little toy. The toy your grandma made for you the day you were born.

“I almost forgot about him.” You said.

“Yeah, I took care of him for you.” Steve muttered, watching you gaze at the toy. He knew how much it meant to you. And the day you gave it to him, he made sure to keep it safe. He had it on his night stand by his bed. Every time he looked at it, he thought of you. Every single time.

“I thought you needed him more than I do right now.” He smirked.

You looked up at him with a soft smile, falling into those alluring blue eyes.

That was the moment you knew you were in too deep. And it scared you.

In that very moment, holding your gaze, Steve felt something spark inside of him. Something he had never felt before. There was something different about you that he never noticed before and he wasn’t quite sure what it was. But one thing was for sure, he didn’t want this moment to end.

Until the sound of your alarm going off startled you both.

“Shit, I need to start getting ready.” You exclaimed, placing the turtle down onto the coffee table before running into your room. Leaving Steve alone to himself.

He couldn’t help but lightly chuckle to himself as he watched you pace back and forth in your room.

Steve quickly grabbed the toy and made his way over. He knocked lightly on the open door and leaned against the doorframe, snapping your attention to him.

“Don’t worry.” He said, holding the toy up and pretending it was talking. “Everything will be alright.”

And just like that, you were at ease as you fell into a giggly mess. “You’re a dork.” You said.

Steve shrugged, and nodded. “Yeah, but I’m your dork.”

Suddenly, your heart felt as if it were glowing in your chest.

—

Tagging : @thejupiterkiller @bucky-barnes-child @marvel-world14 @gemgemswift @lexaandlincoln @captainam-erika-trash @supernatural-girl97