#phil off to the side: i swear to god she's a sweetheart most of the time---

[movedagain-unbearablyindifferent]

“FUCK being reasonable!  I’ll stab ‘em in the eye!”

[babbushka]

5 Times Flip Ruined Valentine’s Day (And 1 Time He Didn’t)

Flip Zimmerman x Reader (Darling Jewish Wife AU)

11k ; cw: mild angst, mostly fluff & humor, mentions of baby zimmerman, mentions of war, mentions of undercover with the klansmen, brief hospitalization (sex injury), NSFW (PIV, fingering, praise kink, begging, finger sucking, multiple-orgasms, mild lactation kink, implied marathon sex) 

Available on AO3

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L is for the way you look at me

February 14th, 1962. Flip Zimmerman is twenty-three years old and has finally worked up the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend. After months of pining, months of agonizing, months of Jimmy makin’ fun of him for being such a chicken, he finally asked and you stunned him by saying yes straight away. It’s his first Valentine’s Day with you, but more than that, it’s his first Valentine’s Day ever. Flip has it all planned out, he’s going to make sure that this memory is a perfect one, wanting to prove to you that he can be not only your best friend, but the best boyfriend.

Oh, if only life were that easy.

It had started out innocently enough, at least he likes to tell himself that. Not wanting to go too big too fast and run out of room on the very first holiday, Flip decided to keep things simple. He was going to cook you dinner. A real dinner too, with all five courses and a dessert. You didn’t know this, but Flip had been taking cooking lessons secretly after his shift at the lumber mill twice a week. He felt bad, knowing that you always do the cooking whenever you’re together, and dammit he plans on marrying you one day, so he figures he better get his act together now. His Ma had even given him the go-ahead to use the good china.

He doesn’t know when exactly, it went wrong.

“Hey Jim, are you busy?” Flip’s just finishing up his shift at the mill, when he calls his best friend to try and get some extra muscle, “I’m about to head to the market, help me with these groceries?”

He had told Jimmy about the plan of course, mostly because he told him everything. He loved telling you everything too, but this was one of those things that he had made Jimmy swear to secrecy, so as to not fuck up the surprise.

“Sure thing, pick me up?” Jimmy’s cheerful voice crackled over the phone line, and with an affirmative reply, Flip is practically bounding out of the little office where he works, and is grabbing his keys.

Ten minutes later, Jimmy is in the passenger seat, reaching into Flip’s jacket pocket for the grocery list, wondering what the hell Flip needs his help for.

“So what’s on the list anyway – holy shit this is a lot of stuff, Flip.” Jimmy’s eyes widen comically when the grocery list seemingly never ends, and he tries to make heads or tails of Flip’s shitty handwriting.

“I know! I’m doing a soup and a salad and then making these bread rolls that I know she’ll love and then for the appetizer course I’m doing – ” Flip doesn’t catch the concern in Jimmy’s voice, so focused on driving down to the market, focused on his mission.

“Uhh, are you sure about all this? Don’t you remember what happened that time you tried to boil water?” Jimmy very gently cuts Flip off, only keeping his best friend’s interests at heart.

Flip, for his part, sours and shoots him a glare, snatching the list back from his friend’s hand.

“Shut the fuck up, I’ve been taking lessons. I got this, now would you help me find everything? I figure it’ll be faster with the two of us, and I really need to get started before she comes over.” There’s a distinct edge to his voice that’s the closest thing to panic that Jimmy’s ever heard – at least since the day that Flip broke his clavicle on that snowboarding accident a decade ago.

Once in the grocery store, Flip can’t help but feel cocky. Between the two of them, everything on the list is found with time to spare, which is good because now that he’s really doing this, Flip won’t deny he’s got butterflies. It has to be perfect, he thinks, it just has to.

“Alright that’ll be everything I think – oh!” At the checkout register, Flip quickly grabs a big chocolate bar of your favorite kind, and adds it to the already enormous pile of shit, “And this too, please.”

Jimmy helps Flip load all the paper bags into the car, and then is a good friend and helps bring everything inside the house. Flip doesn’t let him stick around to help, instead shooing Jimmy out with a big plate of his Ma’s homemade cookies as a payment for all the help, and finally letting out a deep breath that he didn’t even know he had been holding.

“Okay Phil, you can do this.” He whispers to himself, “It’s just like class.”

And surprisingly, it was just like class. Flip prepared all the vegetables and got all the dishes starting in the correct order so they’d be finished in time for your arrival – which was in exactly half an hour. He doesn’t know how the fuck he managed to pull this off, but he’s not about to go tempting fate or anything, so he decides that now would be a good time to freshen up so he doesn’t smell like raw onions when you get there.

Flip agonizes over what to wear, eventually settling on a nice dress shirt and some slacks, willing his hair to part neatly. He hopes you don’t think he looks stupid, he – the doorbell rings, and he sucks in a sharp breath to himself.

Without another second’s hesitation, Flip moves to the front door and opens it, momentarily stunned by your beauty. He should have lit up a cigarette, he thinks, because all of a sudden his hands are shaking, just from the sight of you.

“Hi.” He blurts out inelegantly, but you only give him a big smile.

“Hi, you look really handsome.” You bat your lashes and bite the inside of your cheek, and some of the tension in Flip’s shoulders slip away, because he realizes that you’re nervous too.

Taking in the sight of you, it’s very clear that you tried hard to look nice for him, something that blows Flip’s fuckin’ mind. How’d he ever get so lucky to have a girl like you want to be his? Your nails are freshly done, and he’s pretty sure he’s never seen you in this dress before, you even put on some perfume. The scent of it curls up in his nostrils, and he tries to think of something to say so that he isn’t just staring at you.

“You too.” Is the genius move he comes up with, immediately tripping over his tongue, “I mean, you’re beautiful, not that you’re not also handsome, if you want to be, I – ”

“Can I come in?” You give him a break, and he’s grateful for it.

Opening the door wider for you, he steps to the side and mentally kicks himself for being such an idiot.

“Yes. Yes please do, please come in.” Flip tries his best to remember the manners that he was raised on, although it’s difficult when you’re so beautiful and you’re here and you’re his girlfriend. “Let me take your coat?”

“Sure, thanks.” You grin, before your smile falters and a deep concerning frown dimples your forehead, “Say, something smells…um…Flip is something burning?”

Flip frowns too then, filling his lungs, trying to figure out what you’re talking about when it hits him --

“My roast!” Flip shouts, bolting into the kitchen.

What had just been a perfectly cooked dinner not thirty minutes prior, was now a large grease fire, with flames licking up high high high into the air, threatening to touch the ceiling and spread across the kitchen.

“Fuck – fuck shit! God dammit!” Flip frantically begins searching for something, mind going into overdrive to put the fire out. He grabs a bag of something, he doesn’t even know what it is, flour maybe? All he remembers from the class is to never ever throw water on a grease fire, otherwise he’d really be in trouble.

“Oh my god the stove!” The soup on the stove has boiled over and hit the gas burners, there’s smoke coming out of the oven in thick dark plumes, and you scream, “Where’s your fire extinguisher?!”

“Under the sink!” Flip remembers all of a sudden, and lunges to the cabinet under the sink, yanking on the pin and letting the white frothy foam explode out of the nozzle.

Flip pushes you to stand behind him as he puts the fire out, like some hero in an action movie, but instead of praising his heroism, you run out of the room to the phone in the hallway and dial the emergency number.

“I’m going to call the fire department, the flames could be inside the wall.” You shout to him, opening up the windows to air the place out as you go.

Ten minutes later, the fire department is crawling all through his house, and every single one of the neighbors is standing outside on their front lawns like the nosy people they are. Flip is sitting with you on the front porch, his head hung low between his knees, as you rub his back.

“God my Ma’s gonna fuckin’ murder me.” He groans, praying that the fire didn’t get big enough to ruin the whole kitchen.

“We’ll explain to her that it was just an accident.” You lean your head against his shoulder and keep him calm, a soothing balm that cools all his frayed edges. “We’re okay, and that’s what matters most, right?”

He looks at you then, cups a hand to your cheek and gives you a sheepish sigh.

“Yeah.” He grumbles, really desperate for a cigarette now, “I’m real fuckin’ sorry sweetheart, I had it all figured out and then…”

One of the firefighters walks past him, and Flip just gestures to him with a sigh.

But you, somehow, somehow you’re an angel and all you do is laugh, nudging his side with your elbow, making him look at you with an eyebrow raised. Of all the reactions that he had expected you to have, laughter wasn’t one of them.

“Hey, at least we’ll have a story to tell the grandkids one day.” You offer, and in that one little sentence, Flip’s heart beats double time.

“You’re not dumping me?” His eyes widen in surprise, because he was sure, so sure that that’s where this fucking day was going, he wouldn’t blame you if you had, he almost burned the house down after all.

“Dumping you! After how hard you worked and tried? No way.” You shake your head, almost sounding offended by the thought. “In fact, I think it makes me want to date you even more now. Just promise me next year, we stick to flowers or chocolates, okay?”

“Oh, speaking of which – ” Flip remembers, reaches around for something in his pocket, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

It’s pitiful really, the way that the chocolate bar from the grocery store has slightly melted and broken while being in his back pocket this entire time, but he figures, no better time than right now to give it to you.

And even though you’re laughing, your arms corralling him into a tight hug to kiss the side of his face and reassure him that you think the gesture was very sweet, Flip still can’t help but feel…well…burned.

O is for the only one I see

February 14th, 1967. Flip Zimmerman is thirty years old and officially (!!) your fiancée. It only took him five years to propose, but you knew Flip, and you knew how hard and long he thought about things like this, wanting everything to be perfect. And it had been, the trip to Egypt was a dream come true! The wedding was set for next month, March 18th to be exact, but Flip didn’t want to rest on that excitement to not give you the incredible Valentine’s Day he’s always dreamed of giving you.

True to his word, the previous few holidays have been spent very lowkey, a quiet night at a nice restaurant, dinner prepared by someone that wasn’t him, chocolates and champagne and big bouquets of roses.

But things were different now, he wasn’t just some lowly boyfriend who worked at the family lumber mill – no, now he was a Detective with the CSPD and more importantly, your fiancée and that had to mean something. He wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t going to start slacking now that you’ve agreed to tie the knot with him.

“Ketsl? It’s me.” Flip’s just finished changing out of his work clothes in the rec room, into something more put together for the surprise date he’s about to take you on.

“Hi honey! I’m almost ready, I’ll be all done by the time you come home.” Your voice is bright and fills him with warmth from the other end of the line.

“Remember to wear something comfortable.” Flip flicks the ash of his cigarette into the ashtray on his desk, looking at the picture of you he keeps framed right next to the phone, that way it’s like you’re really there, even when you’re not.

“Will you tell me where we’re going?” You have that pleading tone in your voice that usually Flip can never deny, but today is a different day, a special day.

“No way, then it won’t be a surprise, would it?” He chuckles into the receiver, and you groan playfully, eventually conceding.

“Okay, I love you, see you soon.” You blow kisses into the phone, and Flip shoots glares to any and everyone who dares to make fun of him for that.

So what if he’s in love? Who could fault him for that?

He had it all figured out. After the disaster that was the grease fire, Flip decided that this year there would be no adventurous cooking. Since that Valentine’s Day, he had moved into a small house right off 21st Street with you, and the last fucking thing he wanted was to burn down that kitchen too.

Instead, Flip had gotten tickets to a play you had been dying to see at the Denver Center for the Preforming Arts. It was a bit of a drive, but the trip would be worth it, especially considering the seats he was able to get thanks to a friend over at Denver PD. He was going to take you out to a nice dinner beforehand, which meant if you were going to make it in time, he needed to hit the road now.

His car makes it halfway to his house, when there’s a strange rattle that comes from somewhere inside the dash.

“Excuse me?” Flip says out loud to himself, praying that what he thinks is happening, isn’t happening right now.

A light goes off on the dash, and then another, and then somehow another light, all lighting up on the dash, as his car rattles and makes all sorts of noises that he knows he can’t fix with his tire-jack.

“Oh no,” He groans, as the car comes to a rolling stop, the engine failing for whatever fucking reason, “No no no.”

Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he’s already doing the mental math and knowing that he’s going to be late – if he gets home to you at all. To avoid risking an accident, Flip manages to urge the car to the side of the road, and he chucks the flashers on.

“This cannot fucking be happening, not now.” Flip gets out of the car, goes around to the front and opens up the hood. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to fix things, he was handy and took mechanics in high school, but shit high school was some fuckin’ time ago and he doesn’t even know where to look first, anger and frustration bubbling up inside his chest. “How the fuck am I – Flip, remain calm. De-escalate the situation.”

Two seconds later, he still can’t figure it out, and he slams the hood shut with a loud, “God fucking dammit!”

There’s only one choice, Flip knows. He has to walk to the nearest gas station and use their phone for help. Luckily, he knows of one not too far away, you always give them a gift basket of homemade treats for the winter holidays.

As he walks down the sidewalk, leaving his car there on the street without much other choice, he feels…something.

A light plip of water on his shoulder.

Dread creeps up into his throat, because that plip turns to a downpour in five seconds flat, and Flip really had to just stand there, take a moment, and try not to scream out his frustration as the rain pours and pours and pours out of fucking nowhere.

By the time he makes it to the gas station, he is soaked to the bone, and livid.

The door to the gas station swings open and Flip steps inside, taking deep breaths to try and preserve some dignity that he has left. Of course, he had an umbrella, but it was in the car, and he wasn’t about to double back when he was already wet. The look on his face must have been murderous, because the cashier at the counter approaches him tentatively.

“Hey man, are you okay?” The guy asks. Really he’s a kid, probably not more than sixteen, and Flip composes himself as he lights up a cigarette now that he’s sure the drenching downpour won’t put it out immediately.

“My car broke down a couple miles up the road, can I use your payphone?” He sucks down a couple drags, pulling out his wallet and fishing for a few coins.

“The payphone is out of order.” The kid replies, and Flip freezes, letting that information settle into his bones.

“Of course it is.” He mutters, teeth nearly pinching through the cigarette that he’s now smoking like it’s the last one he’ll ever have.

The kid notices Flip’s darkening mood, and thinks for a minute or two, before noticing one of the other people in the gas station.

“But hey! My buddy here is a mechanic and drives a tow truck. He can give you a lift, can’t you Tony?” The kid offers on his friend Tony’s behalf, and Flip tries not to get his hopes up.

Tony, another teenager who looks like he just got his license, maybe a little older, pops up from around one of the aisles with his arms full of chips.

“Sure thing sir, where you headed?” Tony smiles brightly, and Flip just smokes smokes smokes.

“21st street.” He offers, praying that this kid knows where that is.

By the way his eyes light up, Flip thinks that maybe, just maybe, his luck is turning.

As it would turn out, Flip’s house isn’t too far from the mechanic shop that Tony works at. On the way to his house, they strike up a deal to get the car looked at and fixed up before the day was over.

It’s still pouring rain, Tony pulls the tow truck up to the curb and Flip opens the door, reaching over to shake his hand.

“Thanks, I appreciate this a lot.” Flip says, feeling much less angry and now sort of…defeated.

“No problem, I’ll give you a call when we’ve fixed her up.” Tony gives Flip’s hand a hearty shake, “And thanks again for paying for my snacks, that was pretty cool.”

They part ways, and he only gets two steps closer to the front door when it flies open and you’re rushing out into the rain to hug him, holding him close.

“Phil!” You bury your face in his chest, and automatically Flip’s arms wrap around you tight. “Oh thank god I was so fucking worried about you! It’s been hours! What happened?”

You pull away enough to cup his cheeks in your hand and search his gaze, eyes wide and worried, and Flip’s chest sinks. It’s like the first Valentine’s Day all over again, he sighs to himself, feeling just as shitty now as he had when it was a disaster then.

“The car’s in the shop, I’m sorry ketsl, I tried.” Flip shrugs, not knowing what else to do, or say.

“I know handsome, I know.” You stretch up onto your tiptoes to press a deep kiss to his lips, before grasping his hand in your own and tugging the both of you out of the rain, announcing, “But I planned for this.”

“How the hell could you have planned for this?” Flip mumbles, but you just throw a smile over your shoulder to him, trying to get him into a better mood.

“I had a feeling you’d do something extravagant, and we both know how that tends to turn out – ”

“Hey.”

“So I made us a special dinner and figured we could watch those old black and white movies together like we used to do all the time. Maybe have some champagne in the bubble bath as a pregame.” You waggle a brow, as the both of you find shelter in your front room, door locked safely behind you.

Water drips from your hems onto the floor, and you reach for a very conveniently placed towel that happens to be right by the door, offering it to him.

He has never wanted to marry someone more, in his entire life, than he wants to marry you.

“Next year will be better.” He promises, kissing you sweetly, before taking you up on that promise of a bubble bath.

V is very, very extraordinary

February 14th, 1968. Flip Zimmerman is thirty-one years old and celebrating the holiday, the first Valentine’s Day together since you’ve been married, overseas.

This year was not, in any way shape or form, better.

He listens to the tape you’ve sent him, plays it over and over again just to hear your voice, hoping to drown out the harrowing experience of war just beyond his headphones. He listens to your voice, and wonders if you’re relistening to the voicemails he’s left you once upon a time, wonders if you’re having dinner with your friends, if Jimmy brought you those flowers like he had asked.  

He rewinds the tape, but he knows it’s not the same.

E is even more than anyone that you adore can

February 14th, 1972. Flip Zimmerman is thirty-five and finally back home from Vietnam. He surprises you one sunny day last summer, and the two of you are practically in each other’s back pockets every day thereafter.

There is no place Flip would rather be, than with you. To anyone who didn’t know you, it might look suspiciously lovey-dovey, but no, that’s really just how you are now. You nearly lost him over there, in the war. You went three years without him by your side – you didn’t want to be more than a foot away from him if you could manage it.

This Valentine’s Day, Flip has arranged everything so that you could do just that. He had a fantastic fucking date planned for you – nothing too fancy, but special nonetheless. It was going to be a complete throw-back, he’ll take you to the diner where they now serve the Zimmerman Special -- a combo of the sub sandwiches you always order, and a chocolate milkshake to share; you can’t get the sandwiches on their own, they have to be ordered together, something that always makes your heart flutter – and then afterwards, he got passes for the mini-golf place, one of the very first dates he had taken you on all those years ago when you were first stepping into more-than-friends territory.

You’re about ready to walk out the door, and Flip is right behind you when the phone rings.

Exchanging glances, Flip seriously is tempted to ignore the phone altogether, but you raise a brow at him and he lets out a disgruntled groan, dragging his feet over to the hallway and picking the phone up.

“Zimmerman, it’s Harry.” His boss’ voice has a tone to it that already has Flip developing a localized headache right in his temple.

“Why do you sound like you’re about to give me bad news.” Flip grumbles, and Harry just sighs.

“Because I have bad news.” Harry replies, and you already seem to know what’s coming, because you close the door with a sad sigh and step out of your shoes, “Look, I’m really sorry, but Ron just gave us some new intel, looks like the boys are having some sort of get together at the Bloomin’ Tulip, and we need you there.”

He was on this case with a rookie named Ron, something about infiltrating the local klan chapter. He wasn’t happy about it, not in the fucking least, for a lot of reasons. The men were vile, and he hated spending any more time with them than he needed to, and he had really fucking hoped that he wouldn’t need to today.

“Isn’t that a strip club?” You pipe up having overheard the name of the establishment, and Flip blinks, gearing up to start shouting at his boss.

“Flip I know it’s not how you want to spend the night but – ”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? It’s Valentine’s Day! I’m not going to a strip club with a bunch of neo-nazis on Valentine’s Day! Besides, they know I’m married.” Flip seethes, the hand that’s not holding the phone gesturing wildly even though Harry can’t see it.

You light up a cigarette and hand it to him with a kiss to his cheek, knowing he’s going to need it.

“Felix and a couple of the other guys are married too, and they’re going. I’m sorry Flip but we need to know if they’re planning anything serious.” Harry really does sound apologetic, and at the end of the day, he is Flip’s boss.

Flip looks at you, and you look back at him and give him a sad smile, encouraging him to go with a little nod of your head. You knew what you were signing up for when Flip asked your thoughts on him becoming a detective, and you had agreed all those years ago. It was part of the territory, and you weren’t about to make him feel bad for protecting the town you loved so dearly – for keeping you safe.

“When?” Flip sighs into the receiver, and he can practically feel the relief in Harry’s sigh.

“You have to be there in an hour.” Harry replies quickly, already spouting off directions and whatever other bullshit that Flip’s not listening to.

“Tell Bridges I’m pissed about this.” Flip eventually cuts him off, and hangs up the fucking phone without even so much as a goodbye.

With the phone slammed back onto the wall, Flip smokes his cigarette for a second and lets his shoulders sag. He really couldn’t catch a fucking break, could he? Turning to face you, wondering where you went, he finds you settling on the couch, your pretty coat hung up on the hook, reaching for a book to start leafing through.

“Ketsl I – ” Flip’s heart sinks, and he has half a mind to call Harry back and tell him that he isn’t going to go, but you shake your head.

“Go, it’s okay. Work is more important.” You reach a hand out for him, and he takes a few long strides over to the couch, kneels in front of you and holds it reverently between his palms.

Flip rests his head on your thigh, pressing small kisses to your knuckles, hating this.

“No, it’s really fucking not.” He grumbles, anxious about the thought of leaving you. “How about this: I’ll go for just a couple hours, make some excuse, and then come right back to you and we’ll go on that date?”

He’s really going to give Ron a hard time about this, Flip thinks, when you just pat his cheek lightly and pull out your wallet from the purse you’ve left on the coffee table.

“Do you need some singles?” You rifle through the thick stack of cash and count out roughly fifty dollars.

“Why do you have a ton of singles?” Flip frowns, confused, and the playful suspicion in his tone gets you giggling, a sound that rushes through Flip like the breaking of a dam.

“Don’t worry about it.” You reply, mock-defensively, before you roll your eyes and explain, “It’s from the bake sale, trade me for bigger bills?”

Flip kisses you, a loud smacking smooch right on your cheek, and fishes out his own wallet, not wanting to steal money from the bake sale. Whatever he spends on the case he’ll get back from the station, but still, that money was to go to the children’s hospital.

“I love you more than anything in the entire fucking world and I will be back as soon as I possibly can, I promise.” Flip rushes to say, as the clock chimes, letting him know he’s got to leave now if he wants to make it in time.

“Just go.” You smile, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. You kiss Flip once more, and then shoo him away with a parting, “And be respectful to the girls there!”

“Of course! I love you.” Flip calls back as he leaves the house, running back to give you one last kiss, before leaving for real.

Flip has nothing against strip clubs, not at all. He knows and likes pretty much all the dancers, from his days as a rookie himself when he would be the only one around the station to calls on his late night shifts. They know and trust him, and he’s thankful for that; especially when they see he’s clearly undercover, and know to keep an eye on him without making it too obvious.

The klansmen are exactly how Flip had expected them to be – obnoxious, loud, rude. They don’t tip well, spend most of the time jeering at the women and the rest of the time talking shit about their wives or girlfriends. Felix at one point asks Flip to join in, almost a dare to prove how masculine he is, how much of one of them he is, and the words burn in the back of Flip’s throat as he lies through his teeth.

He hates this, he hates them, everything is too loud and the beer is warm, and Flip’s having a terrible fucking time.

He also has no idea how much time has actually passed, because it’s too dark to see his watch, and there aren’t any clocks on the wall. At one point, Ivanhoe decides to get a little too handsy with one of the dancers, violating rule number one of the club, and gets the entire group of them thrown out. Flip had never been happier to get thrown out of an establishment in his life, and used that as an excuse to leave, claiming an early day at work in the morning.

When he gets back in his car and sees that it’s somehow after midnight, he curses the entire fucking way back home.

He opens the front door carefully, not wanting to come home making all sorts of noise in case you’re asleep. There’s an anchor in his stomach, he feels sick, he’s so fucking annoyed with how this day has gone, and all he wants is to be back with you

“(Y/N)?” Flip whispers, making his way through the house. “Are you awake? It’s me.”

He finds you on the couch right where you had been when he left, and despite the valiant effort you must have given to try and stay up for him, it’s undeniable that you’re dozing. Head resting on the arm of the couch, you’ve got your arms wrapped around one of the throw pillows, and Flip’s chest squeezes because he knows that should be him instead.

“Hmm?” You make a little noise as Flip’s arms scoop you up and hold you against his chest, turning off the lights on his way up the stairs.

“Shh, I gotcha honey-bunny.” Flip presses a kiss to the top of your head, feeling like the worst husband in the fucking world, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You snuggle into his chest some more, voice thick with sleep. “I ordered a pizza, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t, I can’t have my girl starving, can I?” Flip smiles weakly, bringing you into the bedroom and laying you gently down on the bed.

He tugs the stockings off your feet, works on unbuttoning your blouse to unhook your bra, knowing that must not have been comfortable. You, the spoiled princess that you are, don’t bother helping him, liking when he does all the work. Flip can’t even tease you for it tonight, the weight of how the holiday has been ruined heavy in his chest.

“The pizza place was cute, they made it in the shape of a heart.” You say, watching him with soft eyes.

“I’m going to make this up to you.” Flip promises, mind a little too exhausted to figure out exactly how he’s going to do that just yet.

“You’re here now, that’s what matters.” You shake your head, before groaning dramatically as you get off the bed much to Flip’s confusion, “Come on, let’s go shower.”

Flip checks the clock on the wall, it’s nearing up on one o’clock, and he’s sure a shower will just wake you up even further.

“You’re coming with me?” Flip asks, which is a stupid question because in the back of his tired mind, he knows that you always shower together.

“Well someone’s going to have to get the glitter out of your hair.” You give him a smile, and that stops Flip in his tracks.

“…Glitter?” Flip groans, yanking the bathroom door open and turning on the light switch, seeing how he’s completely and totally covered in the shimmery circles that he loathes probably more than anything for the way they never ever come off, “Aw fuck.”

You just laugh, and get the water running, and Flip feels like the luckiest sonofabitch that exists, even if he is covered in glitter.

Love is all that I can give to you

Love is more than just a game for two

Two in love can make it, take my heart and please don't break it

Love was made for me and you

February 14th, 1974. Flip Zimmerman is thirty-seven and is the proud father of two precious little angels, that he absolutely cannot fucking believe are his. Last Valentine’s Day was hectic with the kids being so little, but now that they weren’t so teenie tiny, he has arranged for them to be watched by his Ma for the evening.

She had of course agreed, because any opportunity she could spend with her grandchildren was a good one in her book, which let you and Flip have the evening alone together for the first time in a long time.

It was silly almost, how excited the two of you were to go out to a fancy steakhouse and have an expensive dinner, how hard you both laughed at the comedian that Flip had managed to get great seats for, even so far as being able to meet him after the show and get a photo with him.

You are still laughing about some of the jokes all the way back home, and Flip is trying his best not to feel cocky. Finally, after so many years of trying to have a good and special evening, he’s finally gotten to give it to you.

There’s some gifts waiting for you at the house that he can’t wait for you to open, but when he gets you through the door, you are on him like a bee on honey. Your hands don’t know where to settle, skimming across his shoulders, his chest, cupping his cheeks and tangling in his hair, desperate and excited in a way that makes Flip’s heart pound.

“You are so fucking sexy.” He breathes, crashing your lips to his, throwing the keys and your purse to the ground as he backs you against the door, as he holds you tight to him, licking into your mouth and working on getting you naked.

“Take me upstairs?” You moan as his teeth clamp down onto your shoulder and he sucks hickies all over your throat, head tipping back for him to get better access.

Flip groans, his cock rock hard in his slacks, and he smacks your ass to get you runnin’ up to the bedroom, chasing after you with a hearty laugh. He pinches at you and you squeak out laughter and yelps of your own, as he tackles you down to the mattress, mouth seeking yours at once.

“How’d I ever get so goddamn lucky, huh?” Flip shoves his hand into the waistband of your panties, two thick fingers pressing right up into your pussy, working eagerly to get you stretched and relaxed and ready for a good hard fucking, he grunts and groans as your pussy sucks his fingers deeper, “I’m going to make you come so fucking hard ketsl.”

“We have all night, I want you to make me come all over this house.” Your eyes glitter and sparkle in the lamp light of the bedroom, and he grins, feeling overheated in his clothes.

Pulling away much to your dissatisfaction, he works on getting himself naked, while you deal with your own clothes. He eyes you as you reveal yourself to him, and his dick twitches, wanting to thrust as far as it can go into your body, your perfect fucking body.  

“Oh I will, you better fucking believe I will,” He growls, yanking your ankle and pulling you across the bed with bright laughter. Flip climbs on top of you and resumes fingering you, “This pretty pussy’s in for a long night I hope you’re ready for my big hard cock.”

Your hands squeeze at his shoulders, traveling across his back, gripping him tight as your legs part and wrap around his hips. Flip lines himself up and begins to thrust inside your wet cunt, the pulsing heat throbbing around him and making him groan, the friction so good.

Moaning and sighing together, you gasp out loud as he builds up a speed that has you bouncing bouncing bouncing on the bed. He’s managed to find your gspot right away, and he wants to make good on his promise to get you fucked until you’re thoroughly and utterly wrecked – so he figures the more orgasms he can get out of you, the better.

Kissing you deeply, groaning into your mouth, he doesn’t realize how the way he’s pistoning his hips has you moving across the mattress, until you’re grasping at his shoulders with a surprised gasp, “Wait, Flip hold on we’re a little too close to the edge.”

He shakes his head and smiles down at you, wanting you to know that you’re always safe with him.

“I’ve got you baby, you don’t worry about a fucking thing – ” He starts saying, not realizing just how close you both really were, and with one particularly eager thrust, the two of you go toppling over the side entirely, landing with a loud thud on the floor.

Shit, he thinks, as he rolls off of you, scrambling to pull out and make sure you’re okay.

When he looks at you, expecting you to be laughing and scolding him and telling him all about how you were right, and instead sees a small trickle of blood across your forehead from where you’ve hit your head on the corner of the nightstand, his body runs cold.

“(Y/N)?” At once, he begs smacking lightly at your cheeks, a heaving feeling starting to rise up in his stomach as he shouts, “Oh my god, I killed my wife!”

Flip’s military training kicks in, and all he can think about is getting you to the hospital. He grabs a pair of pants off the floor and doesn’t even realize he’s put them on backwards, as he wraps you up in the sheet and runs with you down the stairs. His heart thuds and tears blur his eyes, but he swallows them down because you’re okay you have to be okay he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if you’re not fucking okay.

“Oh my god,” Flip manages to get the bleeding to stop by bunching up the sheet and pressing it against your forehead, and he keeps one hand on you as he speeds through every single red fucking light in Colorado Springs on his way to the emergency room, “Oh my god oh my fucking god.”  

The hospital isn’t too far, and thankfully him being a police officer gives him some special perks – like leaving his truck parked right on the curb as he practically kicks the doors open. He’s got you wrapped up in a sheet, carrying you bridal style with thick streams of tears pouring down his cheeks, shouting and shoving his way through the waiting room.

“Everyone out of my fucking way – can someone help my wife?” He’s frantic, must look like a fucking lunatic, but, “She won’t wake up I don’t know what to do.”

“Bring her this way, hurry!” One of the nurses who happens to recognize him buzzes him in, and he doesn’t let you out of his arms until you’re surrounded by nurses and a doctor is on the way.

He watches as they wheel you back somewhere he’s not allowed to go, not even as a police officer, and Flip punches the wall, hating that he can’t do anything else.

Twenty minutes later, one of the nurses has found him and given him a shirt, because he had forgotten to put one on in all the panic, and asked him what the hell was even going on. So he hangs his head between his knees and tries not to be sick, tears and snot hiccupping out of him.

“…And that’s when she fell over the side of the bed and smacked her head and started bleeding all over the fucking place which I know she’s going to hate because I just washed the carpeting this morning for her and fuck is she okay? Will she live?” He rambles on and on, twisting the fabric of this shirt that is too small in some places but too big in others, nervously, wondering what the fuck he’s going to tell everyone – what he’s going to tell his kids.

“Live? Trust me, she’s alive and kicking right about now.” The doc comes over then, sees the state that Flip’s in, and scoffs.

The words barely register in Flip’s mind before he’s running. He doesn’t even know where he’s running to, somewhere they’re keeping you, sticking his head into every room on the way in case it’s yours.

He finds you eventually, and relief makes his knees go weak. Rushing to your side, he carefully carefully carefully kisses you, the words spilling out of him all at once.

“(Y/N)! Oh honey-bunny I am so fucking sorry I didn’t mean for you to fall the way you did you were right I should have listened are you okay the doc told me you had to get stitches?” His eyes are wide with worry, but you have something of an amused if dazed smile on your lips as you comb your fingers through his hair.

“Hi Philly.” Your voice sounds rough, and Flip could cry, maybe he is crying, he doesn’t know, he’s just so happy to hear your voice. You nod, giving him a little sigh, “Yeah, just a couple right where I hit my head. Was I out for very long?”

“No, but then you were in so much pain they put you under while we worked.” The doc says, because how the hell would Flip know, he was having a nervous breakdown outside. Checking on the machines that you’re all hooked up to, he asks, “How do you feel now?”

“Like I was hit by a truck.” You sigh again, before turning to Flip and giving him a dreamy smile, “But you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Flip kisses you again, once twice three times right on the lips, before cupping your cheek and not looking away from you when he asks the doctor, “Does she have to stay overnight?”

The nurses come in then and begin to unhook the IV and pull all the cables away, bandaging you up nice and securely.

“No you’re free to go, there’s no blunt trauma or damage to the brain. All you have to do Mrs. Zimmerman, is rest up.” The doc pats your blanket-covered foot at the end of the bed, winking, “And take it easy in the bedroom next time.”

This has the both of you immediately embarrassed, feeling like scolded schoolchildren who got caught ditching class, instead of the grown adults you actually were. You give him a glance as if to say I can’t believe you told them how this happened, and he gives you back one as if to say I had to! I thought you died!

“Yes doctor, thank you doctor.” You cough awkwardly, covering your face and muttering to Flip once you’re sure everyone else is gone, “You think we’d get a free ice cream cone with how often we’re here, hm?”

“I’ll get you ice cream, do you want ice cream? We can stop by on the way home.” Flip kisses your hand, presses the tips of your fingers to his lips and smooches all over them, making you chuckle despite it all.

“Actually, that does sound pretty good.” You mull the thought over in your head, “Okay, just hand me my clothes and after I change we’ll go sign some paperwork and head home.”

It is then, that Flip realizes he forgot much more than his own shirt, when he had carried you up and away to the hospital. He looks around, wondering, hoping that the nurses had brought something for you instead of the little paper gown that you’re currently dressed in, but it seems that that hope was in vain.

“Oh…yeah…” He stalls, “Ketsl, about that…”

“You did not bring me to this hospital naked, did you??” For the first time in a long time, you give him an incredulous look, anger clouding over your face as you demand to know.

“Of course not!” Flip stammers, looking around for the proof that he, “I uh, wrapped you in a sheet.”

He holds the sheet up, still covered in the blood from your forehead,

“Philip Daniel Zimmerman!” You shout, covering your face and sinking back down into the bed, pulling the covers over your head as you realize in horror that he had somehow gotten you into the car naked, and carried through the lobby and the waiting room in nothing but a stained sheet, “God that’s so fucking embarrassing!”

“I love you so much, I love you more than anything in the entire world you are my one true love – ” Flip immediately drops to his knees, really lays it on thick as he winces, knowing that he really fucked this one up worse than all the other Valentine’s Days before it.

“Oh give me the fucking sheet.” You bemoan, snatching it from him and getting out of the hospital bed, taking stock of his own appearance.

He’s wearing his pants on backwards, and a shirt that you’ve literally never seen in your life. He’s got one sock on, and one is missing, no shoes in sight, and his face and hair are a travesty. The poor man looks awful, looks like he had spent the past hour bawling his eyes out, and with the redness in his eyes and around his nose, you’re sure that he has.

Despite it all, you can’t be mad at him. So, instead, you swallow your pride and wrap the sheet around your body like some long avant-garde evening gown, and sigh, “You’re so lucky I’m obsessed with you.”

And if anyone has anything to say about your combined appearances as you leave the hospital and head on your way to pick up ice cream from the drive-thru, neither of you notice, too glad to be alive and together to care.

L is for the way you look at me

O is for the only one I see

V is very, very extraordinary

E is even more than anyone that you adore can

February 14th, 1975. Flip Zimmerman is thirty-eight and he is sick and fucking tired of things getting in the way of this damn holiday. He is determined, absolutely fucking determined, to make sure you have the best day imaginable. He’s done everything right – and he means everything – to ensure victory in this long-sought-after, elusive battle.

Every Valentine’s Day disaster has been leading up to this, he thinks as he drives home from dropping the kids off with Uncle Jimmy. He will not be cooking, he will not be working, he has his truck tuned up and running smoothly, and he is on his way to you right now.

Fresh bagels, breakfast sandwiches, warm pastries and hot brewed coffee from that bakery down the street that you like are sitting in the passenger seat of the truck, and he’s going to surprise you with a perfect fucking day so help him.

When he comes back home, he arranges everything neatly on a tray and brings it up to you, smiling to himself that you haven’t woken up yet. He places the tray – decorated with a little rose in a vase and everything – on the dresser, and settles next to you, petting back your hair from your face.

“(Y/N),” He whispers, trying to bring you out of sleep, “Honey-bunny, wake up.”

“Mmmmorning.” You beam up at him, reaching your arms up for a hug, that he is more than happy to give.

“Hungry? I brought you breakfast.” He kisses you with a smile.

With that, you push yourself to sit up against the headboard and regard him lovingly as he leaves your side and brings the tray over. He settles it over your lap and gestures to the assortment of fresh and delicious looking breakfast choices for you to pick from, but you first lift the little rose up to your nose and give it a deep sniff, happily sighing.

“I thought something smelled good, have you been gone long?” You kiss his cheek and pat the spot next to you so he can lay in bed too, so he does, picking up a muffin and doing his best to not get crumbs all over the sheets.

“About an hour, I didn’t want to bother you on your special day.” Flip sidles up next to you and lights a cigarette, and you rest your head on his shoulder as you smile at him through the reflection of the mirror on your dresser.

“My special day huh?” You tease, knowing the track record for when Flip tries to plan something extravagant.

“Yeah, for real this time.” He’s so determined, so fucking determined, everything is going to go right if it’s the last fucking thing he does, but he doesn’t say all that.

You still hear it anyway.

“Do I get to know what we’re doing?” You prompt sweetly, almost convinced of the fact that it’s because he tries to keep things a surprise, that it all goes badly.

Flip must think so too, because he’s sighing and rolling his eyes, unhappy about spoiling the day but knowing it’s probably for the best.

“Yes, I got us a couple’s spa package. I know things have been difficult with the littles toddling around, and you do so much for them and for me, so today is all about pampering you.” He announces, and you let out a loving little squeak from the back of your throat as you aww at him, making him blush.

“That’s very very sweet, thank you honey.” You beam, excited about the prospect of a professional massage, especially because he was right; you loved your children with your entire heart but having two under two was a bit hectic at times.

“Don’t thank me yet – I don’t want to jinx anything.” Flip is quick to say, and you laugh because you know how he must be feeling right about now.

After breakfast and some lazy lovemaking in bed, the afternoon light shines brightly as you and Flip arrive at the spa.

It’s a real fancy place, the kind with a big water feature right on the wall that makes the entire lobby feel serene and luxurious. Flip is halfway expecting something to go wrong – he keeps bracing for it. But as the nice women at the front desk bring you into the couple’s massage room, everything seems to be going off without a hitch.

Hot stones are all the rage, and so for the next sixty minutes, you and Flip enjoy the peaceful quiet and mood music as the knots in your muscles vanish. Afterwards, they put some kind of mud mask on both of your faces, and add little slices of cucumber over your eyes. You both sit like that for a good while, as you’re each given a manicure and pedicure.

You get your favorite color of polish done, and Flip just asks for a clear coat, wanting his nails to look nice but not necessarily colorful. It’s fun, Flip decides, being pampered with you. Maybe this could become more of a regular thing, he sure as shit could use those hot stones now and again after a long fuckin’ week of stakeouts or pouring over paperwork.

By the time you emerge from the spa, it’s practically evening. You suggest going back home, but Flip has other plans – namely, to keep you out of the house for a little while longer. He brings you to a pizza spot that you remember fondly from your days of dating Flip back when he was working at the family mill he now owns, going out for a slice and a cola and kissing in one of the red booths in the back.

Everything is exactly the same, except everyone’s a little older, but the pizza and the company are still great. Flip can’t help but kiss you, even though you’re not in the red booth in the back, but no one seems to mind anymore. It’s been years and years of this, of Flip loving you, they’re all used to it.

Flip chucks a couple quarters into the jukebox and the two of you dance on the black and white checkerboard like you’re the only two people in the entire pizza joint, because when you’re together, it feels like you are. It feels like you’re the only two people in the entire world.

The clock strikes seven, and he knows the coast should be clear at the house by now, so he brings you home and tries not to act too suspicious. You call him out on it, but he refuses to say, manages to keep his big mouth shut the whole way home, until you’re opening the front lock and pushing the door open to reveal a romantic wonderland.

Ron and Jimmy had been working tirelessly the past two hours, blowing up heart shaped balloons, arranging big bouquets of your favorite flowers and roses of all different colors, and a thick trail of rose petals that led up the stairs to your bedroom.

Speechless, you clasp a hand over your mouth and give him a look, impressed and surprised, and Flip can only grin.

“Go up, there’s more.” He whispers, kissing you on the cheek and patting your ass playfully.

Following the trail of rose petals, you push open the bedroom door and your heart fills with so much love and appreciation for your husband, because on the bed are some carefully wrapped boxes with white satin ribbon bows just for you, along with a giant teddy bear, a bucket of ice and a bottle of expensive champagne, and your favorite kinds of chocolate.

“You are so good, you know that?” You whirl around and practically jump into Flip’s arms, hugging him and attacking his face with kisses, making him smug as shit, but rightfully so.

“Want to open them?” He offers, but you’re so overwhelmed by it all in the best way possible, you just keep hugging him.

“Oh Flip – I will, but first, please, please fuck me?” You bat your lashes up at him, suddenly desperate to feel his body against yours, desperate to feel him in and around you.

Flip hadn’t expected that right away, but that doesn’t deter him. He quickly scrambles to get everything off the bed and onto the floor or up on the dresser, and is back to you within a few moments, kissing you deeply, working to get your clothes off with a deep chuckle in the back of his throat.

“Yes, shit you’re so pretty, my pretty girl.” He scoops you up and drops you onto the bed, wrestles with you a little until you’re laughing and grinning at him, his mouth smacking smooches to your lips as he demands, “C’mere.”

“Please don’t let me fall off the side of the bed this time.” You grip his biceps and he flushes a deep embarrassed red, but brings your attention to the floor where the accident had happened all that time ago.

“One step ahead of you, ketsl.” He gestures to a series of plush pillows that he had lined up on either side of the floor by the nightstands so that if you were to fall – which he’s going to make sure you never ever do again – you’d land on something soft, “A perfectly padded landing platform.”

That is the final thing holding you back from pulling him down by his shoulders on top of you, and Flip happily goes, happily settles you underneath him, eagerly slides the head of his cock through your folds. Your pussy grows wet under his touch, and it’s not long before you’re whining for him to really give it to you, so he does – oh fuck, he does.

Lifting your hips with one of his strong hands, Flip lets your legs wrap around his waist as he thrusts shallowly in small motions, wanting to get you stretched and relaxed as he sinks his cock deeper into you, making you moan, your eyes rolling back into your head when he bottoms out in your hot cunt.

“Oh! Oh yes, right there, right – yes!” You gasp as he begins to fuck you in earnest, holding your legs up and bending your body in just the right way to give him deeper action, stronger penetration that has you gasping.

Your back arches and your toes curl just from the feeling of being so full, your head tossed to the side as your hands twist in the pillowcase underneath your head, reaching up to grip the headboard that begins to shake and smack against the wall as Flip moves his hips faster and faster.

“Look at me?” He doesn’t like that he can’t see your face though, with the way you’re tucked against your arm, so he reaches for it and grips your jaw, pulls you to look at him. Your eyes are already unfocused and glassy but you’ve got the brightest smile on your face, that drops into a beautiful perfect O as he pounds into your pussy, “Fuck, you’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen, you know that? I feel like I don’t tell you enough.”

“Tell me again.” You tease, biting your lip and shaking under him, opening your hips and letting him fuck over your gspot with wild abandon, voice wobbling from the effort, “I didn’t hear you.”

“You’re – so – yes! – fucking – beautiful – oh god,” Flip groans long and low as you clench around his cock, your pussy fluttering and pulsing, the tight we velvet heat sucking him in and never letting him go, making Flip’s ears ring with pleasure, “Do that thing again ketsl, do it.”

You do as he says, and your cunt clamps down hard on him, making fucking you even sweeter, the friction driving him insane, making him grind his cock as deep into you as it can go. You can feel it knocking against your cervix and you whine out in pleasure, tears from overstimulation pricking up at the corners of your eyes, clinging to your pretty lashes.

“Flip! Ohhhhh Flip, that’s so good,” You praise him, only spurring him on, making him sweat sweat sweat all over you, dripping sweat down onto your perfect fucking tits that he just cannot not kiss and lave his tongue over and suck on, “Your cock is so good honey, fuck me harder, please!”

“No, I’m gonna take my time with you, make you fall apart, make this pussy soaking wet by the time I’m done with you.” Shaking his head, Flip pulls one of your nipples into his mouth and makes you moan high and loud, and Flip doesn’t even stop when your body confuses him for the baby, and sweet milk floods his mouth.

“H-honey! Right there, right there just a little faster? Please just a little f-faster -- ah!” You’re crying now, your thighs shaking, feet kicking out your pleasure, one of your hands gripped tight in his hair and yanking hard, making him come a little into your cunt, making him never want to stop.

“I should tie you up, keep you right here under me where you belong,” Flip pulls off your nipple and grips your jaw, “Tell you how fucking pretty you look taking my big Jew dick – suck.”

Slipping a few fingers into your mouth to wet them and let them rub against your tongue, gagging you, making the sweetest choking noises spill from your throat as you try to moan and suck at the same time, Flip’s mind blanks out entirely with pleasure, a static sort of hum singing through his body as your pussy pins him and holds him.

“I-I-I’m --!” You wail, and that’s his cue to pull the fingers out of your mouth, drool stringing from your lip to his knuckles, and finds your clit, rubbing steady circles that have your body jackknifing up, tensing up and cry cry crying his name.

“That’s it ketsl, let it out, shh I know it’s good.” He massages your clit slowly, milking it as he fucks you through your orgasm, licks up the tears and sweat on your face, kisses you deeply, passionately.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop honey!” You beg, trembling against his lips, and Flip wouldn’t dare go against those wishes, not for anything.

You don’t know how many hours pass, before Flip comes in you for the final time. He crashes down onto the bed next to you, chests heaving, bodies sticky with sweat and come and tears of pleasure, of overstimulation, of love.

The night is still young, you still have to open your presents and drink your champagne and all, but for now, all he wants to do is gather your beautiful naked body into his arms and kiss you, so that’s exactly what he does.

“Fuck.” He grunts as his muscles which had been so loose from the spa day, are now burning with all the exertion. He kisses you and pinches your nose, asking with too much hope, “Good?”

“Really good.” You promise him, cupping his cheek with a pleasure-weak hand and kissing him again and again and again, until he’s smiling. You laugh and stretch a little, your entire body made of jell-o, and joke, “At this rate, we’ll be three for fuckin’ three years in a row.”

“Would that be so bad?” Flip thinks of the kids that should be fast asleep by now, and his chest grows warm.

You duck your head bashfully, feeling so loved and cared for and wanted by your husband. You always do, truly, but you can’t deny that it feels a little more special today.

“I gotta say, Flip,” You turn to face him and prop your head up on your bent elbow, “You really knocked it out of the park this time.”

If there were a Heaven, this would be it, Flip thinks as joy and elation course through his veins. He grins and punches the air with happiness, feeling like he suddenly has the energy for a victory lap around the property. You laugh at how display of theatrics, and he surges up then, wrestles with you playfully and nips at your jaw with his teeth, finally finally finally having succeeded in something he had tried for over a decade to do.

“Would you mind saying that again?” Flip echoes your earlier sentiment with cheeky sarcasm, “I didn’t hear you.”

And you can only laugh and tell him again and again, wanting him to know that you have had a wonderful, a perfect, a beautiful Valentine’s Day, not just this year, but every year that you’ve been together.

Love is all that I can give to you

Love is more than just a game for two

Two in love can make it, take my heart and please don't break it

Love was made for me and you

Love was made for me and you

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

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

Tagging some pals! Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed :) @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag  @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions  @direnightshade  @reyloaddict55  @thembohux  @kylorenswhxre  @sunflowersinthesnow  @babayagakeanu  @safarigirlsp  @rennasiance-mama @steeevienicks  @mousemakingjam @the-unmanaged-mischief  @materialisthicc  @drake-bells-waxed-penis @dutchiepie @slut-for-harri  @littleevilme13 @erys-targaryen @leillaa @hswritingrecs @miabelay11 @han68000​

[sunriserose1023]

Merry & Married {4}

SUMMARY: It’s been almost a year since the most humiliating moment of your life. You’ve done your best to move on—by literally moving across the country, starting a new job, and you’re finally starting to feel settled. That, of course, is when your bubblehead cousin sends you the invitation to her wedding—which is exactly one year to the day that you were left at the altar. You have to go, but you don’t have to go alone. Enter Bucky Barnes, the best friend you’ve ever had. You fill him in, and of course he agrees to go home with you. What are friends for? Never mind the fact that he’s desperately in love with you. And if you hadn’t sworn off men forever, you might just find him … attractive. So there you are, surrounded by love, bridesmaid dresses, champagne, and no less than one hundred sprigs of mistletoe. What could possibly go wrong? WORD COUNT: 3285 WARNINGS FOR THE SERIES: Emotional angst, presumably unrequited love, friends to lovers, fluff, happily ever after, written for the @heamarvel​​​ Holiday Movie Challenge

Masterlist

“Y/N? Hey, sweetie. Wake up.”

You blinked your eyes open, disoriented as you looked around, eyebrows drawing together. Bucky smiled, patting your thigh again. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty.”

You yawned, shaking your head. 

“Crap. I’m sorry, Buck.” “Don’t be. You needed it.”

You held a hand to your forehead, giving a deep exhale. Bucky wrapped his arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple before resting his forehead against it. 

“It might not be as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

You nodded, leaning against him with your eyes closed. 

“I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t think I could do this without you.” “No place I’d rather be.”

You snorted as you sat up, opening your eyes and smiling at him. 

“I’m sure Sam and Steve had something to say about this little trip.”

Bucky slowly nodded, then waved a hand at you. 

“Who cares what those dorks think?”

You laughed. 

“You do, Buck. No matter what you say.”

You patted his thigh, straightening your shoulders and taking in a deep breath. You glanced out the window of the SUV and nodded. 

“I am excited to see everyone. I just don’t want them to look at me like …” “Like they pity you?”

You smiled, then nodded, turning back and meeting his eyes. 

“It’s like you can read my mind.”

Bucky smiled after you, lifting a hand to twirl a piece of your hair around his finger. 

“We’ve spent a lot of time together over the past year.”

You nodded, feeling your heart speed up the slightest bit. You swallowed, forcing yourself to look out the window again.

“You ready to meet everyone?”

Bucky nodded and you furrowed your eyebrows. 

“Where’s Nat?” “Oh, she hopped out as soon as we got here.”

You sighed.

“Probably to warn everyone that I’m here and to not mention the P-word.”

You glanced back at Bucky and saw him pressing his lips together, trying not to smile. You shook your head and let out a quiet laugh, shoving his shoulder. 

“You’re twelve, I swear.”

Bucky laughed, moving to open the door and climbing out of the car. He turned back and offered you a hand, and almost without thinking, you set your hand in his. As per usual, a spark rushed up your arm as soon as your hand was in his, igniting more when Bucky gave you hand a soft squeeze. You kept a tight hold to his hand as he started towards the back of the SUV, where your luggage was. You gave a shake of your head, giving his hand a tug as you started walking forward. Bucky walked with you, taking your hand and looping it over his arm. 

“Do we need to get the luggage?”

You shook your head. 

“Someone will come get it.” “You sure?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest keeping you from saying anything else. Bucky leaned over, and your eyes closed when his hot breath washed over your ear. 

“Your heart is pounding. Try and relax.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes closed as you trusted him to lead you forward. 

“Oh, there she is.”

Your eyes opened and a smile spread over your face. You slipped your arm from Bucky’s and ran up the front steps, tears coming to your eyes when your mother embraced you. 

“There’s my girl. Oh, I missed you!”

You couldn’t speak, but your mom had always known what you couldn’t say. She just held you, blinking back tears of her own, gently rubbing your back. She spoke softly, for only you to hear. 

“I’m so glad you decided to come. I’d have understood if you didn’t want to, but I’m so glad you’re here. Also, this cutie at the bottom of the stairs, we’re going to have to discuss.”

You gave a watery laugh, pulling back from your mom and sniffling. She wiped your tears away with her thumbs, smiling widely. 

“Sweet baby.” “I love you, Mama.”

She smiled, leaning in to kiss your cheek before turning to Bucky. 

“Young man, are you going to stand down there all day?”

Bucky shook his head, jogging up the steps. You sniffled again, laying your hands on her shoulders. 

“Bucky, this is my mom. Mom, this is Bucky Barnes.” “This is Bucky? You didn’t tell me you were bringing him!”

She stepped forward and caught him by surprise when she embraced him, and Bucky smiled as he moved his arms around her. 

“Thank you for taking care of my baby.”

Bucky’s smile widened. 

“Of course, Mrs—“ “Oh, none of that. You can call me Mama, too.”

Bucky met your eyes over your mother’s shoulder and you lifted a shoulder. He winked at you, straightening and smiling when your mother looped her arm through his. 

“Come meet the family. They’ll be so happy to know Y/N brought—“ “A friend, Mama.”

She turned back to meet your eyes and you made yourself smile. 

“Bucky’s my best friend, just here to get me through the wedding.”

One of her eyebrows arched and you tilted your head, that fake smile still on your face. She blinked, giving you a look that you knew meant the two of you would be discussing this later. You nodded and she patted Bucky’s arm before making him start walking. 

You closed your eyes, dropping your head forward. You took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. 

“Why the long face? We haven’t even started wedding shit yet.”

You smiled as you looked over your shoulder, closing your eyes as you wrapped your cousin in a hug. 

“Carol.” “Hi, honey.”

She stepped back from you and smiled, and you lifted your hands to touch her hair. 

“You let it grow out.” “Yeah, the butch look didn’t sit well with me.”

You laughed and she slid an arm around your shoulders. The two of you slowly began walking around the porch. 

“So what have I missed?” “This week or this year?”

You side-eyed her and Carol smiled. 

“Darcy’s not a total bridezilla, but she’s had her moments. London Boy calms her down a lot.”

You giggled and Carol tapped on the ball of your shoulder with her fingers. 

“You missed the bridesmaid dress shopping, which I’d say was a gift from God. Some of the dresses they made me try on …”

She shook her head and you giggled. 

“On the opposite side of that, now you’re stuck in a dress you didn’t get a say on.”

You nodded. 

“I’m just …” “I know, honey.”

You nodded again, letting out a sigh. You and Carol turned the corner, stepping through the front door. You found Bucky right away, being interrogated by Natasha’s parents, and you laughed at your Uncle Phil, arms crossed over his chest as he tried to look intimidating. They looked over towards you and Phil’s face lit in a smile. 

“My favorite niece!”

Carol rolled her eyes. 

“I’m right here, Uncle Phil. Right here.” “And he said the same thing when you showed up. Hi, sweetheart.”

You smiled as Nadia, then Phil embraced you. Phil walked to Carol and ruffled her hair, kissing her temple. You made your way to Bucky and he leaned over, whispering in your ear. 

“Thanks for saving me. God, they’re worse than Natasha.”

You laughed, rubbing a hand over his back. 

“You’ve never met them?”

He shook his head. 

“I know they come see Nat a lot, but we always seemed to just miss each other.”

You nodded, and Bucky smiled at you. 

“I love your mom.”

You smiled back at him. 

“Well, she’s probably already scoping out a place to hang your stocking with the rest of the family, so…”

He chuckled, reaching down to take your hand. 

“You okay?”

You nodded. 

“Haven’t seen everyone yet. Want me to introduce you to Carol?” “Nah, I’ll go talk to her myself.”

You jumped at the sound of a squeal, and Bucky pushed you behind him as the two of you turned towards the source of the sound. You smiled when a blur of dark hair made its way to you, and Bucky helped keep you upright when the blur grabbed you in a hug. 

“You made it, you made it!” “Hello to you too, Darcy.”

She leaned back, holding you at arms length, a huge grin on her face. 

“I’m getting married!”

You smiled, nodding your head. 

“I know. I’m so happy for you.”

She hugged you again, and you waved to the man over her shoulder. 

“Nice to see you again, Ian.” “Same to you, Y/N. Darcy’s been going on and on about you.”

You smiled, rubbing Darcy’s back as you felt a warmth in your chest. Darcy pulled back and grabbed your hand, forcing you to walk with her. 

“I have a question. You know those centerpieces you had last year?”

You blinked but nodded, and Darcy went on. 

“Do you have any idea where they are? I want to embellish them a bit but we can’t find them.”

You shook your head. 

“I honestly don’t know. Did you ask my mom? I didn’t have anything to do with the clean up after …”

You cleared your throat and Darcy nodded. 

“I think there’s a few other storage places we haven’t looked yet.” “Oh, there she is! Y/N, hi!”

You smiled, pulling your hand from Darcy’s as you walked to where Hope was sitting at the counter in the kitchen. The two of you laughed as you embraced, and you stepped back to put your hands on her blossoming belly. 

“Look at you!”

Hope smiled, nodding as she laid a hand at the top curve of her stomach. 

“I’m huge. I don’t remember what my feet look like.” “When’s this baby due?” “February, and it’s in your best interest not to mention the size of the belly or how big the baby will be. Just trust me on this.”

You laughed as Hope’s husband stepped into the room. 

“Hi, Scott.” “Y/N!”

You gasped, a wide smile coming over your face as you knelt down. Scott’s daughter Cassie came rushing into your arms and you held her tightly. 

“Oh, I missed you, little peanut!” “I missed you, too!”

You set her feet on the floor and took her hands, shaking your head as you looked up at her. 

“You grew. I swear, you’ve grown like five inches since I saw you last.” “And guess what!”

She opened her mouth for you to see her missing front teeth, using her tongue to wiggle a tooth next to them.

“Oh no, Cass! You’re losing your teeth!” “She’s keeping the tooth fairy in business.”

You glanced back at Hope and smiled and Cassie tapped on your shoulder. 

“There’s a boy here and I don’t know his name, but he’s really cute. Is he your boyfriend?”

Your eyes widened and Hope pushed herself out of her chair, going for the doorway to look into the other rooms.  

“Who is it?!” “Don’t make a—“ “Ooh, there he is! Damn, Y/N. Nice.”

Cassie took in a quiet breath, tugging on your shirt. 

“Daddy said ‘damn.’ That’s a quarter in the jar.”

Hope elbowed Scott’s stomach as he winced. 

“Nice going, Daddy.” “Well, this one was worth it. Look at him!”

You sighed, shaking your head. Cassie grinned when you looked down at her again. 

“He’s very cute.” “He’s my friend. My best friend. That’s all.”

Hope snorted and you glared at her, but she turned back to Scott, whispering something that he nodded at. You swallowed as you looked across the room, seeing Bucky and Carol laughing. Cassie tugged on your shirt and you looked down at her. 

“You should get him under the mistletoe.” “Oh, not that again.”

Hope laughed and nodded, both hands gently scratching her belly. 

“Hidden sprigs all over the estate. Darcy made it a rule that if you get caught under one, no matter who it is, you’ve got to kiss them.” “On the cheek.”

You met Hope’s eyes and you both smiled at Cassie’s chime in. You nodded and laid a hand on her head, giving another quiet sigh. 

“Y/N, want to go see my ant farm?”

Your eyebrows raised and you met Scott’s eyes. 

“Those are still a thing?” “Apparently. Since she’s allergic to pet dander and she’s dying for a pet ... Well, we can thank Grampy Hank for this early Christmas present.”

You chuckled and Cassie took your hand, tugging you along after her. 

“Antony is Daddy’s favorite, but I haven’t decided if he’s mine.”

You smiled at Bucky when Cassie dragged you past him, and he watched you go until you’d disappeared down a hallway. 

“Wow, you’ve got it bad.”

Bucky turned back to Carol, shaking his head. 

“I’m sorry?” “Yeah, so am I.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and she winced. 

“Dude, you’re going to need to rein that in.” “What?” “The … pining. It’s almost palpable.”

The color drained from Bucky’s face. 

“It’s that obvious?”

Carol’s mouth faltered, and she gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“Probably not to Darcy. But she’s got the observational skills of a glass of orange juice.”

The side of Bucky’s lips quirked up and he dragged a hand down his face. 

“I try really hard not to make it obvious.” “Ooh, you do have it bad.” “Don’t tell her.”

Carol made an “X” over her chest. 

“Your secret’s safe with me. Probably would be easier if it wasn’t a secret, but hey. It’s your funeral.”

Bucky nodded, blowing out a breath. Carol patted his back, then motioned towards the kitchen. 

“Come on. I’ll introduce you to my sister and her blended nuclear family. Just don’t comment on the belly or feel her wrath.” 

You sat in the bedroom you’d always stayed in, staring out the window. This room had a perfect view of the lake, and the pier leading down from the house to the water. You’d always sat in this room to escape the hustle and bustle of your big family, to find a moment of stillness in the seemingly ever-present chaos. 

The last time you’d been in this room was after you were left at the altar. 

Natasha had cut the corset off you, the ribbons used to secure you into the dress too much to try to untangle while the panic attack kept you from breathing. Hope had waved programs in front of your face, the cool air helping the slightest bit. Darcy had held your hand, unable to say a word while you cried, and Carol had held you in her arms, rocking you back and forth until your voice was hoarse from sobbing. 

You were shaken from your memories by a quiet knock on the door and you smiled when your mom walked in. She looked out the window and smiled, sitting beside you on the bed. 

“How are you?”

You nodded. 

“I’m okay. A little overwhelmed.”

She nodded, patting your hand. 

“That’s to be expected.” “Did you give Darcy all the decorations from last year?”

Your mom sighed. 

“Most of them.”

You nodded and she spoke again. 

“Y/N, I tried. I really did. I tried to get her to have the wedding another day—any other day—but she wouldn’t. She insisted on—“ “My day.”

Your mom nodded, letting out a breath and shaking her head. 

“I don’t think she’s doing it to be mean.” “Oh, I don’t think she is either.”

Your mom smiled, leaning over to brush her fingers through your hair. 

“I think she loved everything about your wedding, except for the … you know, and she’s trying to recreate that.”

You nodded, closing your eyes. 

“She did go on and on about the decorations. And the food.” “You’re a brave girl, my love.”

You sighed. 

“I don’t feel very brave.” “You should. You didn’t have to come, yet here you are.” “Yeah, but the real test will be the dinner party tomorrow night.”

Your mom sighed, and you opened your eyes, turning to face her. You put a smile on your face. 

“I’ll be alright, Mama.” “I know you will.” “It’s just … it’ll be the first time I see those people since my wedding. And I hate to be looked at with pity.” “I know you do. You got that from your dad.”

An almost involuntary smile came over your face. 

“I miss him.” “Oh, so do I. More than I breathe, sometimes.”

Your smile widened. 

“Do you think he would have kicked Peter’s ass?”

Your mom let out a laugh. 

“My darling, that little bastard would be nobody’s problem, I can guarantee that. Nobody messed with his baby girl and got away with it.”

You laughed, leaning over to rest your head against your mom’s shoulder. She kissed your temple, then gave your shoulder a pat. 

“Come on. It’s time for dinner and your Nana’s been going on and on about this New York boy you brought home to her.” “She loves him already, doesn’t she?” “Well, he’s easy to love.”

You felt your heart trip in your chest as you glanced down at the bedspread. 

“Yes, he is.”

The words were barely a whisper, but they burned leaving your throat. Your mother was sitting on the bed again before you could lift your head, eyes wide. 

“Y/N, you talk to me right now.” “Mama—“ “Are you in love with this boy?”

You pushed yourself off the bed, shaking your head as you walked to the window.

“No.” “‘No?’” “No.”

She clicked her tongue and you closed your eyes. You shook your head again, turning to face her with tears in your eyes. 

“I can’t. I can’t do it again.” “Oh, honey.” “I can’t get hurt like that again, Mama.” “And you think that boy would ever do anything to hurt you? Y/N, he looks at you like you hung the moon.”

You shook your head, turning away from her. 

“No, he doesn’t.”

The lie left a sour taste in your mouth. Of course you’d seen the way Bucky looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking. You saw the way Natasha rolled her eyes when the three of you were together, when you and Bucky were like magnets to each other and she was your third wheel. You saw the knowing looks Steve and Sam exchanged whenever you hung out with them, and you even tolerated the scary movies Sam always chose, just because he knew it would get you in Bucky’s arms so he could protect you from evil clowns and killer puppets on tricycles and anything else. 

You just couldn’t let yourself love him. You couldn’t give yourself over to him, because when you did, he’d have the ability to break you. You’d given Peter everything you had and he’d broken it, left it shattered at your feet. 

You couldn’t go through that again. You didn’t think you’d survive it. 

“Hey, Nana’s getting antsy about … everything okay?”

You wiped the tears from your cheeks as your mom stood up, walking to the door and giving Carol a smile. 

“We’ll be down in just a few minutes.”

Carol nodded. 

“Hey, Y/N, just a heads up, beware of door frames.”

You glanced to your cousin, looking up when she motioned. You gave a quiet laugh and Carol leaned forward to kiss your mom on the cheek. Your mom laughed, shaking her head and closing the door. You met her eyes and she nodded to you. 

“Go wash your face. Take your time, but don’t take too long, okay?”

You nodded and she left the room. You closed your eyes and gave a shaky exhale, grabbing your makeup bag and heading into the bathroom.

TAGS: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​, @walkingchemicalfire​, @eileenalone​, @mrsalh32611​, @alexxcorona113​, @ivoryhazlewood​, @chaoticfanatic​, @rhapsody-in-flannel​, @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​, @captainchrisstan​, @ninaminaromina​, @geeksareunique​, @allsortsofinterests​, @nerdy-bookworm-1998​, @misplacedorphan​, @chrisevansgirl​, @whimsicalatbest​, @buckybarneshairpullingkink​, @isaxhorror​, @redhairedfeistynerd​, @n3rdybird​, @the-ss-acklestan​, @moonlessnight14​

[notgonnarememberthis]

Their Children

AKA: 5 Times Phil Coulson was Their Dad and 1 Time Melinda was Their Mom

Funny story: This entire fic actually stemmed off of a tweet Clark posted a few weeks ago. Someone had compared a photo of him to a photo of a $10 bill and he responded “What’s your name son?” in classic dad trying to be cool fashion. Thus this fic was born. I hope you guys enjoy cause I had a lot of fun writing this!

What’s Your Name, Son?

“Oh my God.” Phil can hear Daisy snickering from the common room, Elena is seated next to her. The speedster is leaning on her shoulder looking at something she had pulled up on her phone now giggling into her leader’s jacket. He takes a moment reminiscing in the sound of their bubbling laughter. It’s infectious really. Laughter was such a rare thing on base and to hear it so uninhibited made his heart swell a bit. Especially from Daisy, whose wide smiles were replaced with half sarcastic smirks. He spies May sipping a beer across from them. Elena seizes the laptop turning it towards May and he swears for half a second it looked like she was about to choke on her beer.

“Anybody wish to let me in on the joke?” He asks stepping into the room. As if almost automatic Melinda holds up the beer that had been settled by her side. She had grabbed it for him. He accepts the beer standing behind her.

“Hablando del diablo.” Elena laughs.

“You know I speak Spanish right?” Phil asks.

“Yes but it’s fun to watch Daisy try to figure out what I’m saying.” Elena jokes shoving Daisy with her elbow.

“I know what diablo means!” Daisy scoffs in protest.

“Only because you wanted your Twitter bio to be ‘Donald es el diablo naranja.’” This time it’s his turn to choke on his beer.

“Coulson thinks it’s funny!”

“I never said it wasn’t funny.” Elena teases.

“Well what were you two joking about?” He asks again.

“Oh!” Daisy turns her laptop showing it to him. On the laptop was a photo of him next to a photo of a ten dollar bill. “Maria sent me those two photos and I have to say the likeness is uncanny.” Daisy snickers.

Phil let’s out a small laugh. He has to say there is a certain resemblance. He can’t help himself, he has to make the joke. “What’ your name, son?” He says in a sing-song tone.

“What?” Daisy’s smile fades from her face as she stares at him.

“You know, the musical Hamilton. All about-”

“I know what Hamilton is Coulson.” Daisy interrupts. “The lyrics are ‘What’s your name, man’ not ‘What’s your name son’”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m right.” He denies. His gratification in himself only lasts a few seconds before Elena has already pulled up the song playing the section of it. He let’s out a laugh shrugging slightly. “Oops.”

Melinda gets up suddenly leaving the room. He watches her go trying not to be sad at the change. Suddenly Daisy’s laptop makes a noise.

“Huh that’s weird.”

“Who is it from?” Elena asks.

“Says it’s anonymous.” Daisy’s back straightens ready to hack if necessary. Suddenly her face crumples as boisterous laughter escapes her throat. Elena looks over next joining in on the noise. He can’t help his curiosity walking to the back of the couch.

The photo was kind of blurry but it was obviously of his, his glasses perched on his nose. His pants were rolled up to his knees, wearing some graphic tee with bright red shoes. Sure enough it was a photo Melinda had snapped of him on a skateboard.

“May!” He shouts running after her.

The Bearer of Bad Jokes

‘Hey DC I was thinking-”

“I thought I smelled something burning.” Daisy freezes, a glare that scarily similar to May’s shadowing over her face. That’s when Phil had begun.

For months Phil began to terrorize the base with what Daisy referred to as “dad jokes”. He’d take the opportunity to snarkily reply whenever he got the chance. It had become his personal mission to get everyone on the base at least once.

“Fitz,” He calls over the scientist one day with a grim look on his face. They were surveying a cemetery for signs of an inhuman that frequented there visiting her family. “Do you know why I’m not allowed to be buried here?”

Alarm flashes over Fitz’s face. First concern, then mild curiosity, then slight fear. “No sir, why’s that?”

“Because I’m not dead yet.” Yet another one down. He’d fallen for it flawlessly.

Elena is next, cornered in a church after a mission. “Do you know how they make the holy water?” Phil asks suddenly.

“Sir it’s water.”

“They boil the hell out of it.” It was definitely worth getting shot with an ICER by Melinda for that one.

Mack was simply fixing up Melinda’s motorcycle one day when Phil advanced. “I had a dream that I was a muffler last night, you know.”

“Sir?” Mack looked startled and a little freaked out by the odd statement from the normally serious man.

“I woke up exhausted.”

The next came Jemma who sat back after eating a meal that he’d specially prepared for the team as a birthday celebration for Daisy. She sits back suddenly a hand on her stomach.

“I’m full.” She announces with a laugh. Everyone seems to freeze at once recognizing the sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

“No you’re Jemma. I’m full.” Everyone proceeded to groan and leave the room, the remaining two only being him and Melinda. His soft laughter is the only thing filling the silence. “Come on that was a good one.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

His Girls

Yet another undercover mission, Phil sighs to himself as he settles onto the park bench. It was an easy one today, just a stake out. Observe a suspected Inhuman and make deductions of whether or not they could be a potential danger to themselves and others. Even if they figured they were a danger, extraction wasn’t their mission today. Today they were to relax and would it really hurt anybody if they caught a ride or two?

Melinda sits across from him with her sunglasses covering her eyes from him. He knows she’s staring at the family just over his shoulder. The mother turned out to be an Inhuman after being caught on security tape with a random burst of powers. She hadn’t hurt anyone or caused chaos. Just a mere startling. It’s not clear if she’s even aware that she’s exhibited signs of her powers.

He takes a moment to observe Melinda. She’s wearing a flowery dress that barely brushes past her knees. Her hair is tied up into a ponytail and her makeup is light. She’s absolutely breathtaking.

Suddenly she tenses, it’s all in her frame. That’s the look she gets when she’s ready to fight. Phil spares a glance over his shoulder, the woman is leaning over a baby carrier cooing at the small human inside. Not even a sign of the sparks echoing from her fingers. He turns back to Melinda who continues to stare straight past him. His eyes fall on Daisy and Jemma this time. The two girls stand in line waiting for ice cream. They were all posing as a family on vacation, both girls were wearing blue jean shorts and loose fitting tanks. He could tell by their composure both girls were incredibly uncomfortable.

Finally he finds the victims of May’s death glare. There are two guys, one has arm wrapped around Jemma. God bless her, she’s smiling politely and doing her best to maintain cover. He can see the twitch of Daisy’s fingers. If they don’t leave soon Daisy will make them. Phil reaches over placing a hand on Melinda’s as a sign of “I’ll be right back.”

“... You can ditch them. It wouldn’t hurt anything. It looks like you could use someone who can show you a good time.” The taller one is leaning into Daisy now. He’s invading her space. “I think I could show you a good time, what do you say sweetheart?”

Phil clears his throat catching the attention of the four. Jemma’s eyes reveal her entirely. She’s unsure of what to do or say. “Dad?” She chokes out.

“This is the old man?” The one with his arm around Jemma scoffs. “Get out of here pops.” Phil offers his best fake grin. He reared back punching the man in the nose. He immediately releases Jemma and she scrambles over to Melinda. Daisy stomps on the other’s foot twisting his arm as soon as Jemma is out of reach.

“You’re lucky it was me and not my wife.” Phil growls at the boy. He’s holding his nose as it bleeds profusely. “If you come near my girls again I will be sure to let her handle you next time.” He nods to Daisy and she pushes his friend to the ground.

“Thanks Dad.” Daisy smiles nudging him playfully on the arm. His heart swells a bit in his chest. He knows it’s for their cover but it’s something she’s said low enough that only he can hear. He leans in placing a soft kiss on the side of her head.

“Anything for my girls.” He’s pretty sure he could get used to the sound of that.

His girls.

Friendly Competition

Phil purses his lips watching the two of them talking rather animatedly from just outside. Mace had been bonding with the agents much more since the whole LMD thing blew over. It seemed his new favorite buddy was Fitz. He nearly jumps when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

Stop being so jealous. You’re practically transparent.

Phil looked around but he was the only one in sight anywhere. Very funny Mel. Where are you?

He waits a beat before the phone buzzes again. Madrid. Got a lead on where Vijay could have disappeared to. Since the LMD thing we set monitors in the zephyr. Your face is as red as the bricks.

He feels his face flush even darker now. Of course Melinda can see right through him even when she’s hours away.

Go in there. Against his instinct he steps into the common room. He can almost feel May’s told-you-so smirk from here. God he really is transparent.

“Agent Coulson, good to see you.” He’s not sure why but Mace’s smarmy grin still burns a fire in his stomach. “I was just discussing with Agent Fitz some improvements that can be made to his lab.”

“Jemma and I’s lab actually… sir.” Fitz corrects offering a kind smile.

“Yes of course.”

“On the bus Fitzsimmons had their own private lab. They work most efficiently when together.” Coulson suggested. Out of the corner of his eye he swears he can see Fitz light up at the idea. “Keeping the separate isn’t beneficial to the team.”

“I think you of all people will understand, Phil, that there are plenty of good agents that work well within SHIELD. It simply isn’t efficient to have a small team of expert agents. We need to spread our assets as much as possible and equalize our training.”

“Yes but Fitzsimmons are an exception. They work exceptionally well alone but their difference together is incredible. If one can’t solve a problem they will find a way to talk the other through it.”

“Yes well-”

“Hello Fitz.” Phil hears Jemma greet.

“They’re doing it again.” He hears the young scientist mutter under his breath.

“Oh dear, another dad battle?”

“Another dad battle.”

“I will look into your suggestion Coulson. We’ll have a test trial and see if your statement holds true. If so, I will work on making a private sector for agents Fitz and Simmons personally.” Mace stands with an amicable smile, “Now if you excuse me.”

Phil watches him go with a sort of pride in his chest. He feels his phone buzz yet again.

Round: Phil. Victory dinner when we get back?

He smiles to himself shooting back a quick text. You bring the whiskey, I’ll order Thai?

Sounds like a deal to me.

Something Borrowed

Phil entered the office only to find Jemma and Fitz waiting for him. The sight was a tad unnerving.

“Why do I feel like I’ve been called to the principal’s office?” He jokes.

“Sir, as you know Fitz proposed about a month ago…” Jemma drones off.

“Yes and congratulations.” He smiles.

“Well originally we had planned on eloping to Ireland so that we can get the family together. I mean of course we still are but it’s a little inconvenient for an entire team of spies to all travel to Ireland for a wedding, and that places our family in harm and-”

“What Fitz is trying to say is we’re going to hold two weddings. One for our family in Ireland. One for our family here.” Jemma squeezes her fiancee’s hand as a sign of support.

“Yes. That’s right.”

“And you called me here because?” Coulson asks. “I’m not really one for wedding planning. Though I do make a mean cake.”

“Well, I proposed this to Fitz the other day. I was wondering for our wedding here… Would you walk me down the aisle?” Jemma asks biting her lower lip.

For a few seconds he swears his heart stops again. He would know after all, he’s experienced it before. He’d always wanted kids but never got the opportunity to have them. There were moments when he regretted not being able to teach his boy how to play baseball, teach his little girl how to dance, walk his daughter down the aisle… Now that he’s here it sort of dawns on him that he’s had this all along. Sure he missed out on their childhood but he’s just as much their father as the legal one.

“Well?” Fitz asks hopefully.

“I’d be honored to walk you down the aisle.” Jemma cheers throwing her arms around his neck. In the small sentimental moment, he swears he can hear her small voice against his shoulder.

“I love you Dad.”

A Mother’s Love

Elena was about a fraction away from pacing footsteps into the cement, that much Melinda could tell. Her hands were wringing together at super speed while she stayed pacing just slow enough for Melinda to be able to clearly tell the young woman’s outline. Something was obviously bothering her but she had no idea why she was here. The woman had obviously been waiting for her. It was 5 in the morning, just in time for her Tai Chi and Daisy was out of the country fetching a new inhuman.

“Elena?” The girl stops suddenly almost startled. The bags under her eyes are significant and Melinda almost wonders how long she’d been pacing in here. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitates and for a second Melinda is positive she’s about to run away. She opens her mouth and let’s out a small whisper, “I’m pregnant.”

Melinda freezes for contemplating how to move forwards with this new information. She places her water a towel on the bench and moves back towards her. “How far along are you?”

“About six weeks.” Elena breathes.

“Does anyone else know?”

“Just you and Simmons. She wants to do an ultrasound tomorrow to check on the baby.” Elena frowns.

“And Mack?” The look on her face is enough to give away her true motives behind this visit. “So that’s why you’re here.”

“He told me about what happened to Hope.” Her eyes fall to the ground. “I know you and Coulson know.”

“Records.” Melinda nods, “We’re required to know.”

“I don’t know how to tell him. He already lost one child and now-” Elena sucks in a breath her hands falling on her stomach protectively.

“You’re worried he’ll not want this child.”

“No.” Elena almost looks offended. “Just… What if something horrible happens?”

Melinda purses her lips at the thought. “Something terrible always happens. I swear to you we will do everything in our power to protect both of you.”

“What if they’re…”

“Inhuman?” Melinda asks. “Then we teach them as you and Daisy learned. This is a gift. Not a curse. So many people used their powers for bad over fear of themselves.” She states calmly. “He or she will have nothing to be afraid of.”

“And Hope?”

“He has to let the girl go.” Melinda smiles sadly. “Have faith in him.”

Quicker than she can react, Elena has her wrapped in a crushing hug. Hesitantly Melinda hugs the girl back. “Thank you May.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Hey.” Phil snakes his arms around her waist from behind, kissing the back of her neck. “Have I ever told you how good you look in my shirts?” He purrs nipping lightly at the juncture of her neck. She was clad in nothing more than his shirt when she’d heard a small knock on the door in the middle of the night. “Why did you leave bed?” He buries his nose in her neck possessively.

Melinda had asked the same question herself when she’d come out. Her gun lays dormant on the table beside the door, in replacement she clutches a photo in her hand. The photo is blurry but she can trace the outline of the small baby.

Faith. The name was written in familiar handwriting on the back. It had been a few months since she’d talked to Elena about her situation. Now not only did she have a photo, but a name as well.

“Apparently we’re grandparents.” Melinda smiles showing him the photo.

“Faith?” Phil laughs lightly. “Mack has always been a sentimental man.”

Four and a half months later, Melinda sheds a tear for the first time in years as Faith Mira Mackenzie grips the tip of her finger in her tiny little fist.

[swan-archive]

6 and alex/laurens with a healthy dose of shapeshifter au if you so choose

6. I have loved since you.  But when the new paint gets scratched, there you are underneath. (My heart is layers of scar.)

“Your son’s trying on another face,” says Eliza with a wry smile the moment Alex steps through the door. “Just a heads-up, when you go upstairs. Don’t be too surprised.”

“Oh, he’s my son today, is he?” Alex sets down his papers on the end table before kissing Eliza on the cheek. “I thought we decided he takes after you. Hi, darling, by the way, it’s good to be home.”

“He’s always your son when he’s misbehaving,” says Eliza, accepting the kiss. “Especially when it’s…” She makes a vague gesture, wiggling her fingers. “…that sort of misbehaving.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Do you know, he managed to get into your office this morning? I put him down for a nap and went to go tidy up and next thing I know he’s rummaging through your desk.”

“Got in under the door, I assume?”

“He must have, it was locked when I heard him in there.” She frowns, goes a little pale. “Unless he’s figured out how to get inside the walls…”

“I’m sure he hasn’t. It’s much harder to go that small and stay that small than it looks,” says Alex soothingly. “Besides, it’s not as if there’s much trouble for him to get into in there. Worst-case scenario, he’d get in, get stuck, and we’d have to cut a hole in the wall to pull him out.”

“Yes, thank you, that’s very comforting, Alexander.”

“At least he distracted himself with the face thing, though, right?”

“Mm. This one’s a new one, he seems quite fond of it. He’s been wearing it all day. I can’t think where he would’ve picked it up, I swear I’ve seen it before but I just don’t know who…”

“Probably just playing around. You know how children are. As long as it looks a little like us, right?” Eliza grimaces. “…That bad, huh? Well, don’t blame me for being optimistic. I’ll have to have a talk with him.”

“Please do. It’s not terrible, but it’ll be…well, difficult to explain. If you can get him to change it…”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you.” Eliza bites her lip. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly. It’s just, he’s almost four, I’d really thought him settled, and now this happens. We can’t keep him hidden forever.”

“I know. I know.” Alex kisses her again, moves a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’ll be fine. I’ll talk to him. It’s just a phase, I’m sure. Like his other phases. Remember the eyestalks? We thought he’d never grow out of those.”

“How could I possibly forget?” Eliza says with a little laugh. “The first time I walked into the bedroom and saw him watching me over the side of the cradle—”

“I’ve never heard you scream so loudly. But he doesn’t do that anymore! Well, hardly ever. It’ll be just the same. You’ll see.”

“I hope so.” Eliza jerks her head toward the top of the stairs. “He’s up in the nursery with Angie. She just fell asleep, so try not to scold too loudly, will you?”

“I would never,” he says, pressing a hand over his heart and starting up the stairs. “I’ll make sure Phil’s not getting into the walls while I’m at it, how’s that sound?” Eliza snorts and shoos him away, and he hurries up to the landing, turns the corner, and enters the nursery.

“Where’s my boy?”

“Papa!” A small figure crashes into him and seizes him around the waist, buries its face in his coat.

“Hi, Phil.” Alex strokes Philip’s hair, gone to a mess of loose curls. Ooh, he’s already understanding what Eliza was worried about. Might be difficult to explain those away, if anyone sees, although they could always say Philip is taking after his Grandpapa Schuyler. That’s where Angelica and Peggy get their curls, right?

But he’ll deal with Philip’s face in a moment, can always make some sort of game of it to make it easier for Philip to swallow. First, the unpleasant business. “Phil, your Mamma told me you were in Papa’s office today.” Philip’s shoulders tense up guiltily. “You wanna tell me what you were doing in there?”

“I wasn’t, I didn’t…” Philip says, before trailing off into unintelligible mumbles. He burrows his face a little deeper into Alex’s coat.

“I can’t understand you, Philip. Look at Papa when you’re talking to him, please.”

Philip takes a long, shaky breath, but loosens his grip, looks up at him with his little jaw set stubbornly, and his eyes—

—his eyes—

“Papa?” says Philip, from a long way off, Alex can hardly hear him over the dreadful thunder of his own heart. His legs give out and he falls to his knees, so his face is on a level with (not Philip’s face, that is not Philip’s face). He reaches out with one hand but can’t quite bring himself to touch. The features softer, obscured by baby fat and Philip’s inexpert mimicry, but it’s the same face, the same shape of the nose, the same framing of dark curls, the same pattern of freckles, the same eyes.

Those eyes. That precise and striking shade of hazel. Oh, he knows those eyes.

“Philip,” Alex says, very faintly, “where did you see that face?”

Philip shakes his head. Frightened tears starting to gather in those hazel eyes. Alex would like to throw up.

“Where. Did you. See it.”

“I, it was, in your office, I didn’t mean to,” squeaks Philip. He’s starting to lose his grip on the shape in his confusion and fear, and the freckles begin to crawl over his face, his eyes wide and doubled-tripled-quadrupled in shining clusters. “I’m sorry, Papa, I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

Alex isn’t listening. He stands, and turns, and stumbles out of the room, down the hallway to his office. Fumbles at the knob. Locked, Eliza must’ve locked it back up after she got Philip out—without even taking the time to consider fetching the keys, Alex dissolves, spills to the ground in a nightmare of boneless limbs, squirms out of his suit and squeezes himself through the crack between the door and the floor. Just like Philip. Philip in a mischievous mood, Philip sneaking into his office and going through his Papa’s desk just for fun, maybe accidentally finding the false bottom of the second drawer down on the right hand side, reaching in—

Alex coalesces into something vaguely bipedal and staggers over to his desk. Babyish scribbles and inky fingerprints-pawprints on the blotter. Papers shuffled around. The second drawer on the right pulled out, its false bottom half pushed back down. 

And there, sitting on the edge of the desk, as though Alex himself had left it there, the miniature of Laurens.

Oh, god.

Your fault, Alex says to himself, collapsing into his chair. Your fault, your fault, why didn’t you hide that better, why did you keep it at all, why do you still have it if it hurts so much to see?

Why does it still hurt so much to see?

He hadn’t gone to the funeral. Simply not enough time to make the trek down to South Carolina, even if there hadn’t been the baby and his work to think about. He hadn’t seen the body. Gave the whole thing an air of unreality. If he’d worked hard enough, during those horrible months after receiving Henry Laurens’ letter, he could convince himself that it was all just a horrible dream, that this was just one of their periodic separations, and wasn’t it typical of John, not to have the courtesy to send a letter once in a while. 

It had always been easier to tolerate those times, before, with something to distract him, so distract he had: thrown himself into studying, and writing, and loving his new family with as much of his heart as he could spare. Still that little sliver that belonged to John, but surround it with enough other stuff and he could—forget about it. For a while.

But now there’s a ghost in his home, and Alex feels like he’s betrayed John in the worst way, even though he knows, logically, that John is far beyond caring. See how I lock you away where no one will ever know what you were to me, see how I never let your name cross my lips, see how quickly and how well I forget. See how I give your face to my son, overwrite the last of your legacy with my own. 

Soon it will be like you never existed at all.

“Papa?”

Philip has followed him under the door, is standing there tugging at a lock of his curly hair as his body wavers back to human. John’s frown on his lips, the sad, tentative cast to it just like when John would come to Alex after a fight in which he’d known he was in the wrong. Alex can barely look at him without wanting to scream.

“I’m sorry, Papa, I know I was wrong, I can be in trouble. I shouldn’t’ve opened it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can go to my room.” A fresh wave of tears starts to roll down his cheeks, but he doesn’t run and hide or try to argue. “It’s my fault—”

“Oh, Philip.” Alex closes the distance between them and gathers Philip up in an odd assortment of arms, holds him close. “No, sweetheart, this isn’t your fault, not at all, you’re not in trouble—well, no, you shouldn’t have gone into Papa’s office without his permission, you shouldn’t have gone through my things, that was wrong. But it’s okay, I don’t care, just never do it again, promise?”

“I promise, Papa,” Philip snuffles into Alex’s shoulder.

“And one more thing,” Alex draws back, cups Philip’s face, looks into John’s eyes, trying to ignore the ache in his heart at the tears on those familiar lashes. “You mustn’t wear that face anymore, do you understand me?”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s—it’s not—you remember, you remember how Mamma and Papa told you, not everyone can change like us? Not everyone can wear different faces. And most little boys—little boys who can’t change—look like their parents. So if you don’t look like Mamma and Papa, people won’t like it, people might start to ask questions, and that would be bad, because people can’t know you and I are like this—” 

And it might kill me to see John’s face in my home, every day, and be reminded every time that he’s really, truly gone, but of course he can’t say that. 

He seizes the shreds of his self-control and drags himself back to two arms, two legs, normal human face. “Can you change with me, Phil? Just try to look like Papa. That’s it.” Philip scrunches his face up, concentrating, and the curls fall out of his hair, the freckles fade to a faint scattering just over his cheeks, the lines blur and shift. When he opens his eyes, they’ve gone a safe dark brown. Like Alex’s. Like Eliza’s.

“Did I do it right, Papa?” Philip asks.

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s just right,” says Alex, breathing out in a dizzy rush of relief. He plants a kiss on Philip’s forehead. “That’s perfect. Now, can you remember that this is what you ought to look like? That—that other face—that it isn’t you? Can you do that for me?”

The hazel has already started to bleed back into Philip’s eyes.

“I’ll try, Papa.”