#I didn’t do anything yesterday cause you know first mothers day with a dead baby and all that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

Text

𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁

__________________________________

sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: You’re a hydra experiment gone wrong. Not to mention Steve Rogers hates you; and you have no idea why.

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: angst, substance abuse, alcohol consumption, enemies to lovers kingda but not really, smut 18+ (slight praise?, a bit of pet names? protected sex ;), riding, cockwarming, choking)

𝒶/𝓃: might do a part 2 blurb, but i’mbeginning to run out of ideas so send some requests! also thanks for 100 followers!! :,)

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 3.3k

___________________________________

You sat by the window of your room with a cup of coffee as always wishing life would be different; but also not. You were grateful for your life you’re able to have now; being with the Avengers, learning how to control the powers you now possess. Grateful to have a home again.

Years ago you were out with your friends for the fifth time that week, getting drunk and high off of anything you could get your hands on. Your fiance broke off your engagement for his secretary; typical. You got fired from your job the week prior. You were days away from being evicted from your apartment. You had no family; your life was falling apart.

You were also the perfect target. Stumbling out of the club black out drunk and high as shit you were taken into the darkness never to be seen again. You woke up surrounded by darkness freezing, shivering from the cold. You had no idea where you were, what day it was, who was staring at you from the shadows.

“Welcome home,” the voice taunted you.

You spent years in that cell. They wanted you to possess dark magic. And you did, oh did possess alright. You remember that night like it was yesterday; that night haunted your dreams every night.

You would sit in your cell, moving the toy blocks they left for you to use. You mostly practiced your magic with them considering no one taught you how to use them, they only wrote shit down whenever you saw them. No one ever spoke to you and whatever voices you did hear were whispers in languages you couldn’t understand.

Earlier that day so long ago, a ‘doctor’ injected you with this thick disgusting black liquid. They had been at your door all day waiting for something to happen. But they got what they were looking for; experimenting on you for.

Your back burned and ached as if there were nails clawing at your skin. You screamed in agony, begging someone to help you, to take the pain away. You could see your once blue veins that ran through your body turn black. Your skin ripped on your back, bruises forming, black feathers growing out your body.

Once they were entirely out of your body they applauded. They actually praised the ‘doctor’ who made you into this, this creature. They left you to deal with the pain. You shook in fear and agony. You had wings. Fucking black wings.

They called you the Fallen Angel. You possessed the powers of Lucifer himself. You didn’t fully know it however.

Months later the avengers infiltrated the base. Natasha found you; you were severely dehydrated and malnourished. But you recovered quickly and here you were staying with the avengers fighting alongside them taking down bad guys and shit.

There was a light knock on your door taking you out of your horrid memories.

“Hey, babe,” Natasha opened your door and peeked her head around.

“Hey, Nat,” you replied.

“How are the wings?”

Since you’ve been with the avengers you’ve become happier with your life again and your wings started getting light in color, they’re still not white however and you don’t know why.

“Still gray,” you chuckled.

“That’s so weird. You haven’t done anything and that goop that was in your system is filtered out. What’s making them gray?”

“I have no idea. Anyway are we even sure they're supposed to turn white? I mean I’m no angel; I had a shit life before all of this happened. Maybe it’s just baggage.”

“But it makes sense, you know,” she defended.

“Not everything makes sense.”

“You hungry? Sam was thinking chinese takeout, Tony said shawarma and you’re the tie breaker.”

“Awe man, you guys suck. What do you want?”

“Shawarma,” she whispered.

“Ok. shawarma,” you agreed.

She grabbed your hand and led you to the living where everyone waited for the tie breaker. Your wings were so big and they dragged behind you every time you walked, ran, anything. It was hard sometimes, they were heavy too but you got used to it.

“She said shawarma!” Nat shouted.

Half the crowded cheer and the other half whined. Delivery came fast thankfully and everyone gathered on the couch, Tony putting a movie on while you guys ate. You sat with Bucky and Nat; usually Steve sits with Bucky but Sam was also on the couch next to Buck.

Steve came up to you making your stomach drop; he was so handsome but here’s the thing, he hated you. Since you came to the tower, he always said they shouldn’t have brought you. That you were too dangerous and you could hurt someone; that hurt you.

You spent so long hating yourself for what you became but with the avengers help, excluding Steve, you’ve been able to learn to start loving yourself and appreciate how you can use your powers for good and saving people. But every time your name came out of Steve’s mouth, it was degrading and you hated yourself a little more each time.

And you don’t know why.

“Move.”

“I’m sorry?” you questioned, taken aback.

“I said move,” he said sternly.

“Steve, she was here first. Don’t be a baby. Go sit down somewhere else,” Nat said.

Steve stared at you making you look away in discomfort. He sat in the loveseat alone glaring at you like you had killed his mother or something. The movie continued however and people kept eating. Steve was still grumpy glaring at you whenever you laughed at a scene or said something out loud or literally did anything.

“Rogers, L/n. Briefing, now,” you snapped your head to the voice who was Nick Fury.

“You two doing anything?”he asked when you three were alone.

“We were-”

“Good,” he interrupted.

“I have a mission for you two. We’ve been getting hyperactivity on our radar at these coordinates for the past week now. We do have reason to believe it may be another hydra base trying to regroup maybe, get the band back together type of shit.”

“And you need us why? The rest of the team is in the living room,” Steve asked him.

“You two know hydra best and it’s too soon to put Bucky on a mission that involves Hydra. I’d like you two to complete this with no casualties. We have authorities ready to arrest them, they're just waiting for you,” Nick gave you both a file.

“I want you both on the plane in 5. And please for fuck’s sake, try not to yell at each other. Y/n, Steve is your captain just do what he says,” He walked out of the room and you rolled your eyes. Whenever you guys go on a mission together he always has you stand back and even stay on the plane with Bruce sometimes. You more than once rejected his instructions; now thinking about it might be the reason he hates you…

“Try not to kill yourself this time,” Steve said before leaving to suit up.

The mission was going well and all fell into place. Until while the bastards were under arrest getting ready to be transported, one of the Hydra agents recognized you. He mocked you and laughed at you. Taunted you and brought memories of your time with them back to your mind.

Tears formed in your eyes, you were so angry. You used your powers, developed from the darkness and began slowly killing him. He turned red and choked gasping for air. Steve watched you begin to get angry, feeling empathy for you. But when he saw you snap, he knew he couldn't trust that you’d cause trouble.

“Y/n, stop,” he said. But you didn’t stop; you wanted the bastard dead.

“Y/n!” you ignored him.

Your brain drowning all sounds except your breathing and his lack of. Steve grabbed your arms and dragged you, you bursted into tears, memories and trauma flooding back. Steve was pissed that you couldn’t go a single mission without doing something you weren’t supposed to. But he also knew that what you had gone through was torture and he felt sorry for you.

He somewhat knows about the torture that Hydra has inflcited in the past. Bucky talked about it with him and sometimes still has nightmares about it. His behavior probably doesn’t make you feel better. He didn’t mean it to get this far.

When Nat brought you on the plane, he was hesitant. But he knew if they left you there you would die in no time. After you rested, ate, and cleaned up, he was mesmerized. You were very beautiful but Steve felt like because of Peggy he shouldn’t love another person. Like she would be mad if he moved on.

So, he avoided you at first. Absence turned to frustration when you wouldn’t leave him alone like he had thought. Frustration led to insults and now you think he hates you with everything in his body. But he couldn’t feel further from hate for you.

Sure, he got frustrated when you didn’t listen to him on missions; primarily because you thought he was being a dick on purpose to antagonize you. But when you came home, safely, and laughed with everyone about Bucky tripping and falling on his face, he fell in love a little bit more with you and your laugh. You looked so happy; without him.

But Steve can’t let it happen, so now he stomped away from you pretending to be upset over something so stupid.

“Where are you going?” you yelled at him.

“I really don’t need your shit right now, Y/n,” he snapped.

“No, you’re gonna deal with it. It’s been more than a year, Steve! Grow up and talk to me like a real man! Why do you hate me so much?”

“Enough!” he boomed, scaring you.

“Leave me alone,” he said lowly, having more impact than if he were to yell.

“Please,” you cried, “Talk to me. What did I do?”

“You want to know the truth? You’re too powerful. You’re already reckless and if you knew the capacity of your abilities you'd become more reckless. If you’re more reckless you’ll die; and if you die, that's on me. I can’t let that happen,” there was sincerity in his voice for once; the truth but not the one he wanted to really admit.

“That doesn’t explain why you hate me.”

“God I don’t fucking hate you!”

“Then tell me the truth!” you yelled back.

“I hate myself. I hate myself for feeling the way I do. It's not fair to her.”

“Not fair to who?”

“To Peggy.”

“I thought Peggy passed away.”

“She did,” he went into his room and sat on his bed head in his hands.

“I’m confused.”

“I can’t help what I feel for you; and that’s not fair to Peggy. I feel like I should still be in love with her but I’m not.”

You stood by the closed door listening to him.

“You like me?”

“No, I think I fell in love with you. I thought I could stop by avoiding you but your so fuckin stubborn. You were determined to be my friend; and I don’t want to just be your friend. So I said a couple of mean things and it went too far. I never meant for you to hate me or for you to think I hated you. I was just stupid.”

“Yeah, it was little stupid,” he chuckled at what you said.

You walked towards him and stepped between his legs. He grabbed a hold of your hips and buried his face in your stomach. You held his head brushing your fingers through his hair softly. He looked up at you with soft eyes filled with regret and sorrow. You could tell he was frustrated.

“Is it wrong? To love you?” he whispered.

“No, Peggy wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life moping when you could choose to be happy, like she did. She would want you to move on, live life. And that doesn't mean with me. I mean in general. Does that make sense?”

He nodded sincerely.

He slid his hands to the back of your thighs and sat on his lap. You gasped and your wings fluttered behind you, expanding with excitement. Steve chuckled at that and you buried your face in his neck feeling embarrassed. He cupped his hand on your face and naturally you leaned into his hand looking into his blue eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

You simply nodded before leaning up to him to connect your lips with his. Your wings once again expanded; lightly ruffling against each other. You pulled away and attached your lips to his neck peppering light kisses all around.

You connected your lips once again and it was Steve’s turn to attack your neck with pecks. You’ve alway worn shirts that were either very low in the back or cut to make room for your wings. Either way Steve slowly pulled your shirt over your shoulder trailing kisses along your chest and collarbone.

“I really care about you, Y/n. Please let me show you.”

You hesitated only because it’s been so long since you had been intimate with someone.

“We don’t have to-” he started.

“No, I do. I really do; it’s just been a while, you know? Being held hostage and all,” you joked.

“I understand. We still don’t have to.”

“Steve,” you whispered in his ear.

“I want you. I want you to fuck me.”

You heard him growl lowly before he stood up with you and almost laid you on your back.

“Steve, I can’t lay on my back!” you laughed.

“Oh that’s right! I’m so sorry,” you both laughed for a second.

He set you down on your feet and stripped his shirt. Your eyes shot straight to his chest, your hands reaching out to touch his chest. He smirked at you before taking his pants off leaving him in boxers; for now. He reached for your pants as well eyeing you to make sure he wasn’t moving to fast but after a smile and a nod he slowly pulled your own pants to join his discarded on the floor.

He kissed your thighs that were slightly scarred from your time with hydra. He stood up and you pulled your shirt down off your shoulders letting it fall to the floor. Steve’s eyes watched your breasts. His hands reached for them as you did to his chest when he took his shirt off.

You pulled in for another kiss until Steve had enough.

“I need to be inside you, baby girl,” he pulled his boxer down, taking your panties off after. He grabbed your hand sitting on the bed. His back leaned against the headboard and you crawled into his lap, your knees falling to either side of his hips. His hands rubbed up and down your thighs and hips.

He reached for a condom and handed it to you winking and smirking. You tore the foil with your teeth keeping direct eye contact with him, Steve getting harder and harder every second passing. Your took his cock in your hands, bigger than you thought it would be, and rolled the condom on squeezing a bit making his hips jerk up into your hand.

“Knock it off, pretty girl.”

You leaned forward and lined your entrance with his cock moving your hips around a bit teasing him before you actually sink down. Steve was so impatient though, he gripped your hips and thrusted quickly into you making you gasp loudly and moan not long after.

You moved quickly, breasts bouncing with each thrust. Steve groaned under you, fingers digging into your hips.

“My angel. You feel so fucking good,” he grunted.

You simply whined and moaned, feeling euphoric being around Steve. Your wings moved along with you guys gracefully expanding further as you got closer to your oragsm. Steve’s hand moved up your body to wrap around your throat, his thrust getting more sporadic. He squeezed gently making your eyes roll back; your wings getting bigger.

“Your fucking perfect, angel. You gonna cum soon? You gonna cum around my cock?”

“Yes, Stevie. Oh god!” you moaned.

Your moans got louder, echoing in the room. Skin slapping against each other mixing with the lude sounds of you both where you were connected. Steve released his hold on your neck and grabbed your waist moving wildly in and out of you.

Your pussy pulsed around Steve’s cocked. When the pressure building in the pit your stomach finally bursted your wings fully expanded and your back arched. You felt Steve’s dick throbbing until it went soft inside you. You collapsed on his chest trying to catch your breath again.

Steve moved you for a minute taking his cock out of you; discarding the condom in a trash bin. He grabbed a towel and iped you clean first then cleaning himself. He crawled into bed with you and you moved your knee over his hips as before making him laugh.

“What’s wrong, angel?” you liked that name he gave you.

“Can you…?” you mumbled into his chest.

“What was that?”

“Can you put it back in?” you asked louder.

“My cock?” you nodded shyly.

“Anything for you, angel.”

You laid on his chest with his cock settled inside you and you dozed off. Steve lightly scratched your back after turning his bedside light off. Before he fell asleep he saw a soft glow of wings turning white. He questioned it but ultimately fell asleep. He’d ask you about it tomorrow morning.

================

You woke up with your head on Steve’s chest, naked limbs tangled with the sheets. Steve was on his phone, his hand scratching your head gently.

“Good morning.”

“Morning, bug.”

“Sorry to keep you in bed,” you said sitting up; you pulled the sheet with you to cover your chest.

“Don’t be sorry, angel.”

“I’m really hungry.”

“Want to grab breakfast downstairs? We’ll come back up afterwards. We can cuddle some more,” Steve kissed you with a smile.

You stood up grabbing your shirt from last night and Steve handed you a pair of cledan boxers to wear. He dressed himself before walking with you downstairs to the kitchen.

You walked into the kitchen first everyone’s eyes wide. You thought at first maybe it was because they might have heard you and Steve last night but Nat spoke up before you could ask.

“Your wings! Their white!”

“What?” you asked shocked. You opened your wings so you could see them in front of you to see that they were in fact white.

“How did that happen?” Nat came up to you.

“They weren’t white last night.”

“They changed after you fell asleep, angel,” Steve spoke up; everyone’s heads snapping toward him, confused.

“They did?” you asked, he nodded and smiled coming up to you grabbing your hand.

“What the fuck?” Tony said.

“What the hell happened? I thought you guys hated each other?” Bucky asked.

“It’s a little complicated,” you said.

“Ok but that doesn’t really explain why they’re white now,” Nat spoke up.

“I think it’s because I wasn’t truly happy and fully free of my past until yesterday. I was able to move on and now being with Steve now makes me happy.”

“Really?” Sam joked.

“Yes, really,” you laughed.

“This is gonna take some getting used to,” Tony said.

“Did you guys…?” Nat asked suggestively.

Your eyes grew wide and you got hot. Steve only laughed which was enough of an answer for everyone.

“As long as you’re both happy,” Bucky said.

“We are,” you looked up at Steve, wrapping your wings yourselves and shielding a heated kiss with Steve.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers smut #steve x reader #steve x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers angst

256 notes · View notes

falcqns · 3 years

Text

partner in crime lll

pairing: dad!august walker x daughter!ofc

summary: Maeve joins August at work, and he find out a little more about his daughter, which in turn reveals her mothers fate.

warnings: Angst!!! graphic depictions of death, violence towards and infant mentioned but no detail, mentions of sexual assault. 18+ ONLY.

a/n: if I missed anything in the warnings, PLEASE LET ME KNOW! I hope you enjoy!

August was awoken a few hours later by his daughter screaming like someone was hurting her.

August shot up, and immediately sprung into action, looking around the room for the source of his daughter's distress, but found nothing. The only thing he saw was the little baby in her crib, wailing. Her chubby little hand was reaching out towards August, and she was screaming ‘mama.’

August took a deep breath, and scooped her up. He held her against his chest, and rocked her back and forth like he had seen Sloane do once with a little boy they had found at a crime scene.

“What happened?” He asked in the softest voice he could muster, but she only cried harder. Her hands became fists in his sleep shirt, and her tears soaked the cotton material as well. He rubbed her back, and offered her her pacifier. She took it, and her cries quieted, but didn’t cease. He tried to lay her back down, but decided against it, when she screamed again.

He sighed, and laid down with her in the bed. She settled on his chest, and he found himself enamoured by the pools of blue that were her eyes. He was able to see little specks of brown floating near her pupil. She lifted a hand, and placed it on his mouth, her middle two fingers burying themselves into his mustache hairs. August was unsure what to do, so he tried something. He kissed her hand.

Maeve smiled so big that her pacifier fell from her lips, and then she lifted her head.

“Mama?” She asked tentatively, and August paled. How do you tell a 7 month old that they can't have their Mama because she’s dead? August opened and closed his mouth like a fish, unsure what to say.

He saw her bottom lip wobble, and tears well up in her eyes. August noticed a flash of recognition behind her eyes, and she began to wail again, screaming as if she had a gun pointed to her.

Actually, as he thought about it, he realized that's the exact reaction that little boy had, the one that Sloane had held, when he had a gun pointed to his head by his parents' attacker. His heart dropped into his stomach, and made a mental note to check how exactly Maeve’s mother had died.

He pulled Maeve close to his body, and ran his hand up and down her back, occasionally traveling up to play with her soft curls.

Not long after, she settled down, and fell back asleep. August however didn’t.

Sure, it could have been a coincidence that she had the same reaction, but August didn't think it was. He grabbed his phone from where it laid atop the charger, and googled ‘PTSD symptoms in babies’.

Hypervigilance, separation anxiety, clinginess, emotional trauma when reminded of original trauma, fear or avoidance of places that remind them of event, troubles sleeping, nightmares and repetitive play were a few of the symptoms. Maeve didn’t have all of them, but he could only assume she had a nightmare, and the flash of recognition must be her remembering what happened. Was her mother killed in front of her?

The thought made August sick to his stomach, and decided to put his phone away, in favour of keeping the sleeping baby in his arms, 1) asleep, and 2), safe.

August's eyes opened, and instead of dead silence, he was greeted by his daughter babbling, and his phone ringing.

He glanced at his daughter, who was playing with one of his hands, and used his free hand to grab his phone. He saw it was Sloane calling, and swore mentally when he saw that it was 9 am, meaning he was over two hours late for work.

He answered the phone, and Sloane immediately asked where he was, and why he was late.

“I apologize. I got Maeve yesterday and she had a rough night. I overslept, but i’ll be there in less than an hour.” He assured her, and hung up.

He watched as Maeve weaved her fingers with his, and held his hand. He smiled slightly, and curled his fingers in the same way, grasping her tiny hand in his. She squealed in happiness, and August could have cried at the sweet sound.

He pushed the thought away, and pressed a kiss to her curly head before removing his hand from her grasp, and stood up.

“I have to go to work, and you’ll have to come with me. We’ll stop at the store on the way there, and get you a new outfit for you to wear. You need some new clothes.” August said, as he grabbed a diaper from the box that he had delivered yesterday. He changed her diaper, and pulled her pyjama pants back up before scooping her and her stuffy up, and placing her in the crib.

Or, tried to at least. The second he tried to set her in there, she screamed again, like she had last night.

He knew, in that moment, that whatever caused her mother to die, happened right in front of her.

He felt anger boiling up in his body, but not at Maeve. Never at Maeve. He felt a surge of love and protection over her, and he knew his first task of being her dad was to find out what happened to her mom and figure out how to help his little girl.

August had made it out of the apartment, to Walmart, and to his office, all under an hour. He had no idea how, but he had managed it. He swore he saw a smile on Sloane’s face when he walked past her office with Maeve on his hip, but couldn't be sure.

He entered his office, and had no idea where to put her. He had weapons hid all over, and didn't want her getting hurt. He couldn't put her in a crib or a playpen, she obviously had a trauma response to that. His only options were his lap, where he knew she wouldn't stay put, and underneath the desk, which seemed like the best option until he could figure something out.

He placed her under his desk, and handed her the toys he brought with him. She gurgled as she was handed her stuffy. August smiled, and got to work.

He pulled Maeve’s file out of his briefcase, and consulted it for her mothers name.

Adriana Amiens.

He barely remembered her. He glanced down at Maeve, and felt regret course through his veins as he realized if he hadn’t been so down on himself and selfish after the mission, he could have experienced everything, and could have stopped what happened to Adriana.

He went onto the CIA database, and typed in her name. Only one result came up, and he clicked on it.

August could have vomited at what appeared.

There were several pictures of the crime scene, and the actual crime. Adriana had been tied up, and the initials MA had been carved into her stomach, just above a small scar where her uterus was located. His eyebrows furrowed, and glanced at her file. His eyes found the word cesarean section, and all his questions were answered about that.

He moved the mouse over the picture, and a link popped up, attached to the scar. A link attached to the picture wasn't unusual, the database automatically linked relevant information to the pictures, so he clicked on it.

A wiki page popped up. There wasn't a lot of information, but he did note the last name. Amiens, first name Charles.

August read further. This man, named Charles Amiens, nicknamed Master, was apparently Adriana’s father. He belonged to a gang aptly named ‘The Amiens Family’. August had heard of them before. They specialized in arms dealing and murder for hire. Charles himself seemed to be responsible for over 1500 deaths in the Los Angeles area over the last 50 years, something that scared August.

August scrolled further, and found that Adriana was listed as his daughter, although there was the word ‘emancipated’ in parenthesis. August took note of the reason for emancipation being listed as ‘family differences’. August guessed that meant that Adriana wanted no part in the family business. Anais had mentioned in the original phone call that she and her family were very different, and to be wary of him, but he had no idea why, until he received the file later that day.

August clicked through the rest of the photos, his stomach churning as he looked at what the murderers had done to the poor girls body. She had bruises all over her body. She had two black eyes, a broken nose, and there was evidence of sexual assault and severe trauma to her privates.

However, the last photo is what made August throw up.

The murderers had placed Maeve, who didn't look any younger than she did now, in a crib. More specifically, they restrained her to it. There were chains attached to her wrists, bringing them straight out from her body, and attached to the crib.

The next few photos were screenshots from the security footage, and he had to shut off his computer immediately.

They had indeed pointed a gun in his daughters face.

He wanted to throw up, but also murder someone just for hurting his child like that. He felt a tear slip down his cheek, and immediately reached down for the little girl under the desk. He lifted her onto his desk, and took a good look at her arms.

He noticed that she had faint scars around her wrists, that he knew was from restraints. He stood up and took her to the bathroom. He stripped her from her outfit, except her diaper. He checked her entire body, and was thankful when he saw no other evidence of any harm on his daughters smooth skin.

He hugged her to his chest, and pressed a kiss into her hair. “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you. I promise.” She yawned in response, and August knew she was getting tired. He carried her back to his office, and by the time he had settled in his chair, she was asleep on his chest. He held her there, protecting her. He knew she wouldn’t sleep well unless she was in his arms, safe.

By the time August made it home that night, Maeve was miserable. She was exhausted, hungry, and in desperate need of a bath. He had no idea what to do with the crib situation, as it was very clear she wouldn't be able to sleep in there, and August wasn't going to force her.

He’d done some research on his lunch break, and found an alternative to the bed situation, but it wouldn’t arrive for another few days, so it looked like he’d be bed sharing until then. He wanted to get the crib out of his room, but that would entail either waiting until Maeve was asleep, or risk her seeing it and being thrown into a PTSD induced meltdown. She hadn't been diagnosed, but he recognized the symptoms. Not all missions went to plan.

Besides, he planned on getting her into a child psychiatrist as soon as possible to get her diagnosed and help her heal. He didn't want her childhood affected by this, and it was highly unlikely he’d ever tell her what truly happened to her mother.

He placed the diaper bag, his briefcase, and their dinner down on the counter before rocking her back and forth in his arms to soothe her to sleep. It didn't help that she kept crying out for her mama, the one thing August couldn't provide.

“I promise you, my sweet angel, that i will find out what happened to your mama and make sure that you never have to feel the pain you're feeling right now EVER again.” August said, tears flowing freely as his daughter wailed for her dead mother. Her dead mother that was killed in front of her.

A few minutes later, Maeve’s cries melted into whimpers, which bled into soft breaths escaping her lips. August smiled at her, and laid her down on the bed as he had done yesterday, before taking the crib out of the bedroom. He decided to hide it in the laundry room until he could sell it, because she wasn’t allowed in there.

He had managed to wheel it out into the kitchen area, and he took pictures of it. He posted them on facebook, with a price tag of $50. It was originally $270, but he wanted it gone as soon as possible. Maeve had been through enough already.

He’d gotten an offer from a lady less than an hour later, offering $100 for it, so he took that opportunity. An hour after that, the crib was gone, he was $100 richer, and Maeve was still sound asleep.

Next, he put an offer in for an apartment, and got it. He was just signing the contract as he heard Maeve waking up. He quickly finished signing his name and sending it in before going to find his baby girl.

She smiled and clapped as August walked into the room, and he gave her a smile back. “Good nap?” he asked, and she nodded and giggled. August gave her some Cheerios after she was placed in the highchair.

He warmed up the food, before giving her her plate, which she ate enthusiastically. He ate his food, and listened to Maeve babble and point to the front door. He looked out the door and saw another father walking with his son. “You wanna go for a walk?” He asked, and Maeve nodded.

August chuckled, and cleaned up. He wiped her down, and minutes later she was in the stroller and they were on their way out the door.

They made a few laps around the block, Maeve laughing and pointing at everything she saw, almost as if she was rarely outside. He made a mental note to check her file once more. Maybe there was something more to that.

They made one more lap around the block, and headed back to the apartment. He made a short pitstop at the leasing office to give his move out notice, and Maeve was asleep again by the time he made it back up to his unit.

Over the next week, August and Maeve prepared to move. August finally got Maeve on a relatively good schedule, and had the majority of her triggers figured out. Cribs, playpens, handcuffs (an unfortunate incident happened when she had gotten into his bedside drawer and found some fluffy handcuffs for some rather adult activites, and screamed bloody murder while August was prepping her bath. He also had to learn to hide his gun when he was in the office, and remind his coworkers to keep them out of sight when she was around because the sight of those also sent her into a melt down, further angering August, and making him more determined to find the people who did this to her.

Today was moving day, and August was nervous. He didn’t know how well Maeve would take the transition, but he reminded himself that she had been having a lot of abrupt transitions over the past few weeks, so whatever happened, he would deal with.

August woke her up, and carried her into the almost empty kitchen, where he sat her down into the highchair, and gave her her morning bottle and some oatmeal. August ate a protein bar, and looked around at his old apartment to see what still had to be taken to the moving truck that was still downstairs, and found it was only his mattress, and her highchair. sohosebHe had taken all of the furniture yesterday, including his bed frame.

Maeve finished up a few minutes later, and he strapped her into the baby carrier he got when he began to pack, as it was the only way he’d get any work done.

Once she was strapped in and her stuffy was secure in her hand, August rolled the highchair out of the apartment. Once it was secure in the moving truck, he went back to the apartment for the mattress. Maeve was having a fun time of smacking her hands on it while August looked around the apartment for the last time. He’d never thought he’d leave this place, but when he met Maeve, he knew his life was changing for the better.

He never thought that he’d make a good father, but here he was. He had a wonderful little girl, and even though he was raising her on his own, he knew he could do it. As long as she grew up better than he did, he knew he was doing something right.

“Take a look around, Maeve. This was yours and Dada’s first home together.” He said, a smile forming on his face as he called himself Dada for the first time.

taglist:

@kpopgirlbtssvt @nerdypinupcrystal @sohoseb @bieberhoodforever

#august walker #henry cavill x you #august walker x you #august walker x ofc #august walker x reader #august walker x y/n #august walker x female reader #august walker fluff #august walker angst #daddy!august walker

79 notes · View notes

binniedeactivated · 3 years

Text

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧. || 🌪💦 (1.3)

[ m.list ]

➦ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐏𝐎𝐂 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

➦ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐮

➦ 𝐖/𝐂 | 2.6k

➦ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 | 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

➦ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱.

POC = person of color

“myla! daniel! come get your lunchboxes”. yeonjun reminds, shoving another small pack of cookies into daniel’s just before zipping it shut. the two uniformed children rushed downstairs at once, apparently having a race seeing who could grab their lunchbox the fastest. yeonjun always ignored their petty little games unless they started physically fighting over them.

“good morning logan”. yeonjun coos, buckling his car seat. it was odd that the infant was always wide awake in the morning. yeonjun thought if he was a baby he would use that to his advantage and get all the sleep he wanted. but logan enjoyed being awake, as if he was afraid he was going to miss something. “are you ready for daycare?”. yeonjun smiles a little more at the baby prior to hearing heels clash against the kitchen floor.

he didn’t need to look up to know that it was leah, putting her morning coffee in her thermos like she did every morning. except today she was ignoring almost the whole house. specifically yeonjun. she barely looked at him nevertheless talked to him. and yeonjun hated when she acted that way in front of the children. it was already bad enough that myla overheard them arguing. he didn’t want to cause anymore scenes.

“come on guys lets go to the car we’re going to be late”.

yeonjun gathers them in the vehicle making sure all seat belts were on and that logan was safely strapped in himself. he places the diaper bag on the backseat floor before shutting the door and sliding into the front seat. as soon as yeonjun closed the door though he was hit with an over powering smell that crept down the back of his throat. he covered his nose and looked through the rear view mirror knowing exactly where the smell was coming from.

“ew daniel! you stink”. myla whines hiding her nose underneath her shirt.

“how much of my body spray did you use?”.

“what? I used just enough to get me some attention”.

“you’re going to get some attention alright. when you use body spray daniel you use it in modesty. don’t pour the whole bottle on yourself. go in the house and get another uniform shirt out of your drawer”.

he sighs, unbuckling his seat belt to run inside. leah shortly passed him on his way. she made her way to the car and opened the passenger seat door, sliding in and putting her purse on the floor beside her. yeonjun stared at her annoyingly. he turned some soft morning music on the radio to drown out their conversation being that myla was still in the car.

“don’t do this this morning”. he mumbles.

“I’m not doing anything. just drop me off to work yeonjun”. she mumbles back with an eye roll.

“why do you always have to do this in front of the kids? why? you can’t even pretend that we’re on good terms you just want to act like a nuisance no matter what?”.

“that’s your problem yeonjun. you want to fake everything. you want to me to fake my way through our circumstances, fake my way through this marriage and fake my happiness. I’m not doing it anymore”.

yeonjun chews on his lower lip. “why didn’t you just say that in the first place? why didn’t you just tell me you weren’t happy?”.

“you wouldn’t understand”.

“why wouldn’t I? why wouldn’t I want to make the mother of my children happy? if that’s what it takes in order for you to be who I know you can be I’d be willing to do anything”.

“you wouldn’t understand yeonjun”. she repeats, making that her last word before she turned away to look out of the window. even when daniel finally got back in the car yeonjun sat there quietly, wondering what she was talking about. he hated how difficult she was making this. if she didn’t want to be married to him that’s all she had to say. but she wasn’t saying that.

yeonjun was glad when he finally dropped her off to the real estate company she’s been working at for years now. she got out the car without saying a word. yeonjun wanted to remind her that since he picked up the kids yesterday it would be her turn today. but he didn’t even bother. he knew she was going to act like it slipped her mind and he didn’t want his children waiting around like they were last time. so he put the pickup for today in his own hands.

“daddy? the book fair is coming and I want to buy books”. myla whines in the backseat. yeonjun was kind of glad she started talking, he was trying to avoid his thoughts as much as possible.

“okay just tell me when it comes and I’ll give you money myla”.

“since myla is getting new books can I get a new game?”. daniel chimes in.

“daniel why do you always want a video game? you should start reading books like your sister”.

“no one reads books these days. what’s the point of reading?”.

“there are so many things wrong with what you just said”. yeonjun playfully prayed for the boy hoping that one day some sense will finally come to him. but for now he’ll let him be the young boy that he was. next, he cruises his way to logan’s daycare telling the kids to sit tight while he brought the infant inside.

the caretakers smiled lovingly at the sight of logan, they thought he was such a cute and good baby--much more well behaved than the others at least. upon arrival the brown skin woman smiled her widest, reaching her hands out for him.

“ah there he is! good morning logan!”.

yeonjun tries to lean the baby forward so she could grab him but instead he clings to his father’s sweater.

“come on logan don’t you want to go play and have fun?”. yeonjun coos. he tries to instead lift him and physically hand him to her. but it wasn’t long before he curled his bottom lip and started crying in absolute distress.

“aw logan. can you give us a minute?”. yeonjun asks while taking him back. the caretakers grant him another moment while yeonjun turns around and softly bounces the baby until he was quiet again. he whispers,

“what’s the matter? you don’t want to go to daycare today? daddy has to work”.

the infant only sniffles, wrapping his puny arms around his father’s neck.

“I have to work so I can buy you and your siblings all the toys and stuff that you want. don’t you want toys?”.

yeonjun knew logan could barely understand a word he said. but he loved talking to him anyway. he reaches in his pocket trying to find something he could give the baby to make him last without him throughout the day. he was grateful to have found a baby blue handkerchief. it wasn’t a toy of any sort, but it was something.

“look! look what i found”. yeonjun playfully gasps. at the sight of the small piece of fabric, logan reaches his hand out to grab it. he played with a little before a small smile crept on doughy cheeks. he buries his small nose in it, happy that it smelled just like his father. yeonjun kisses his forehead.

“if you be good i’ll give you some ice cream tonight okay?”.

he carefully walks him back over being able to successfully hand him off to the caretakers without a problem. he was still looking down at the handkerchief and smelling it and playing with it and yeonjun hoped that could possibly last him. he gives them the diaper bag and gifts them one last goodbye before he was on his way to drop his last couple of kids off.

well, drop myla off. because daniel hated when yeonjun dropped him off. he was obsessed with becoming a cool kid and he thought being dropped off by his dad just wasn’t cool at all. but being the loving dad that yeonjun was, he embarrassed him anyway.

“daddy loves you daniel!”. he’d shout while his son walked down the hallway to his fourth grade classroom. “dad stop!”. he’d whine back hoping none of his friends would hear. but yeonjun only laughed and did it again before he had to take myla to her own kindergarten classroom.

it was a no brainer that by the time yeonjun walked in the door adriana was all eyes. as he signed myla in and kissed her on her cheeks he held eye contact with adriana even as she was across the classroom helping other students. the dress that she wore--- sent heat to yeonjun’s cheeks. she smirks knowing full well he was loving the view of the way her body moved in it, and he licks his lips shortly before leaving for work. but god, if it was up to him he’d take her to his car and pound her until she couldn’t feel her legs anymore.

he cursed himself for thinking about it throughout the day even while he was at work. while he was producing music it was hard for him to focus on the lyrics at hand especially with sex on his mind.

“damn did you and leah have a good time last night?”. taehyun asks while smirking, snapping yeonjun out of his daydreams.

“what? not even”. yeonjun quickly laughs it off to avoid confrontation. “I haven’t touched her in months”.

“you’re touching someone, with the way you’ve been daydreaming all day”. taehyun laughs. yeonjun checks his watch and shoves his coat on.

“shut up taehyun. I have to go get the kids. the lyrics are finished”.

“whatever. text me after you’re done touching whoever your touching”.

yeonjun sticks up his middle finger until he fully disappeared down the hallway and finally into his car. he got to the school in no time flat, although when he arrived he could still see daniel and his team still practicing in the gym. he checked his watch a couple more times trying to find out if maybe he came a bit earlier than usual.

he had to, because he’s never caught any teacher in the hallway before. at the sound of heels clashing against the linoleum floor he glares up to see adriana sashaying down the hallway, as she was just finished locking up her classroom for the evening, sharing glances with her phone before she finally noticed him and stopped dead in her tracks.

and just like that they bustled into the confinements of the janitor’s closet, hungrily tongue kissing each other like they would never do it again. the gray skin tight dress that yeonjun came to love dearly in such a short amount of time was now being lifted and she was perched perfectly against the door like yeonjun wanted her to be since he first saw her this morning. he snatched her lacy black panties down her ankles in a series of movements-- groaning and wrapping her legs around his waist in need.

with the both of them still coating each others tongues in their own shared saliva yeonjun sneaks his hands into her hair, he grabbed hold and jerked her head back against the door and she could feel the measly pinch at the base of her hair follicle but she didn’t care. the both of their lips met in force and their tongues battled stroke for stroke, each fighting it’s own stressors of life, yeonjun and his broken marriage and adriana with the abusive ex she had yet to tell him about.

but they delighted in the delectation of desperate rough sex. where adriana felt her panties get sticky with just one swift movement and where yeonjun became hard just hearing how heavy she was breathing. he gropes her ass hard and with a grunt, latching his lips onto another sector of her neck in which she wallowed in, enjoying the suction of his delicate pink lips on her skin. he nipped it lightly until they were now conjoined, hip against hip with his dick entering her and her slick core smothering it in it’s wake. the short breathless gasps she made when he stuck himself inside her was what he lived for. and he wouldn’t trade those sounds for any other sexual noise in this world.

he dug his nails further into the fatty globes of her ass thrusting so hard that her body was steadily hitting the door. if he was in his right mind he would actually consider making less noise but with the strain on his nerves lately he made a secret vow to fuck the living hell out of adriana; there was no way he was backing down now. she struggled to regain breath and sight in the midst of his determined thrusts but she couldn’t deny the fact that she wanted it more than anything. with her lips parted, eyes half lidded, she erotically moans and stutters over her words barely able to dish out a syllable before his hips snapped into her again.

“ggod yeonjun--”. she pants, clawing her own fingernails into his back.

“I knew you were wet but fuck“. he groans, seating himself deeper inside her. he reaches a hand down to her clit, mentally agreeing that it was the softest, wettest thing he ever felt in his life. he circled it a bit in one firm stroke and tightened his grip on her hair. she winces. his eyes, gradually darkening into hers---he waited until he had a good amount of her slick around his fingers before he sunk them into his mouth while goading into her eyes menacingly. he could feel her pulse harder around his dick the more he sucked and licked his fingers in front of her face like that, as if it wasn’t something she desperately wanted him to do to her.

“you want me to eat your pussy like this adriana?”.

at the sound of his husky voice she could just crumble beneath him. but he furthered his agenda of absolutely ruining her, dragging his tongue up her chin and into her mouth and once he found her tongue--he starts sucking it lightly. she whimpered against his mouth at the brutality of his hips, still demolishing her and making her legs feel like a keening mess. the faster yeonjun felt his orgasm approaching the harder he gripped her hair. she was practically voiceless, unable to control the responses she gave each time he slammed his himself into her. she was nothing mere of a toy at this point, but she had no problem with being just that.

yeonjun found himself obsessed at how abnormally wet she was, consistently reaching his hand down just to toy with her throbbing clit. adriana felt herself shudder at his relentless fingers and she whined into the crook of his neck. with no warning he shoves his coated fingers between her lips and kisses that spot of hers---the one that was just a couple of inches below her ear before he whispers into it softly.

“if we had time I’d suck the cum out of you”.

as if he weren’t pounding her enough she grew weaker at the sound of his voice and her orgasm was coming within seconds. she tasted herself on his fingers; salty but savory filling the buds on her tongue. yeonjun was biting his lips tearing himself into her repeatedly. adriana thought that if this was the way he looked when he was close to cumming she could watch him cum over and over again.

the intrusive mix of their fluids spiraled down the both of their legs as their chests heave and her back arch against the door. yeonjun crashes his lips against hers just one more time before pulling away and smirking down at her worn out features. as if on cue, the coaches whistle blows signifying the end of daniel’s basketball practice.

#yeonjun #choi yeonjun #yeonjun smut #yeonjun fanfic #dilf!yeonjun #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun angst #choi yeonjun smut

131 notes · View notes

mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Sugar and Spice [Max Lord x F!Reader] — Chapter 12

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter: food mention, tooth rotting fluff. Our story comes full circle.

Author’s note: Here it is. The final chapter of Sugar and Spice. The Epilogue should be coming soon. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did, and I'd like to thank you all for supporting me and my writing. This was my first ever series and the love I got for it was unlike anything I had ever felt before. I love you all so much. (PS— i’m still sick with COVID so I am really really sorry if this is a poor chapter. I tried my hardest. Happy valentines day.)

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER TWELVE - EPILOGUE [coming soon!]

The second Maxwell engulfed himself amongst the soft satin blankets of his bed, he knew he was glad to be home. You climbed in beside him, and his eyes raked your body as he took in the sight of your baby pink slip on silk nightgown that you were wearing. He swallowed, and reached over to grab your waist and pull you on top of him. So there you were, straddling your sugar daddy after not seeing him for over a month. You pressed your palms against his bare chest and looked him in the eyes.

"There's something I need to tell you." Maxwell announced, knowing it had to be now or never. He couldn't keep hiding it. After the month in London and Alistair being brought back into his life, a lot had changed for him. He wasn't the same man he was back in December.

"About Ali?" you asked, tracing circles into his skin.

"Well, yeah. But— something else." Maxwell replied, shuffling around slightly. You sensed it was serious due to his tone of voice and your movements paused as you stared dead into his eyes.

"You don't have another secret child, do you?" you deadpanned.

"No!" Maxwell said defensively and you smiled softly. "It's about us."

You braced yourself. He'd been gone for a month, come back with a kid, and you were certain he was going to break the arrangement off with you. You pulled your hands off him and went to crawl off his lap, but his large hands landed on your thighs to hold you down.

"That night after the annual Black Gold Christmas gala… I saw you with Bruce and I got drunk and— my mom— and… I told you… I told you everything. About my father and having absent parents and. I said— I said— I said I was in love with you," Maxwell gulped and it took him every ounce of strength to not break his eye contact with you. He wanted to remain strong. You remembered the night like it was yesterday; clear as day. Of course, how could you forget the moment he said those words? And he hadn't spoken of it since, until now. Between you being held hostage by Tristan and Maxwell being whisked away to London, there'd hardly been an appropriate time to bring it up. "I swore that once I returned from the UK we would talk about this. So, Y/N, I have to tell you that my feelings haven't changed. It's been months, we've been together and apart. We've argued and fought but we've laughed and made love too. We've had distance— hell, I've been on the other side of the world for the past month but not a second has gone by where I haven't thought about you. About loving you, and kissing you, and even if you don't feel the same way, I hope you can forgive me."

"Forgive you?" You asked after a brief silence. You'd been waiting for what felt like a lifetime to hear these words, and yet you were struggling to comprehend them. It didn't feel real.

"For not doing anything or saying anything sooner. I should've said something sooner. I wish I had. I wish… I wish…" Maxwell rambled but you placed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"No," you told him sternly. "No wishing. You don't need to make a wish because— everything is fine just the way it is," Maxwell's heart sank at your words and you watched as his chest deflated. "No!" you cried before trying to clarify. You didn't want him to get the wrong idea. "You have a successful business, and a son, and Max, you have me. You'll always have me. Because I love you too. I'm in love with you Maxwell Lord."

Max's chocolate coloured eyes widened at your confession as disbelief bolted through his body. Never in a million years would Maxwell expect that you would truly love him back. How could he expect anyone to love a man like him? Kitty hadn't. His mother hadn't. But you…

"I love you so much Max," you sighed before pressing a kiss into his lips. You caught a tear slip down his cheek and you quickly wiped it away. "Don't ever apologise for being you. Our story has been a whirlwind so far but it's not over. It's not over Max. I love you."

"I love you too." he whispered, wrapping his arms tight around your body when you kissed him again.

By the time Valentines Day rolled around, you swore it was like Maxwell and Alistair had never spent any time apart. The six year old boy was the spitting double of his father— personality and all.

He dived into your bed and jumped up and down.

"I got a card! Look daddy! I got a card!" Alistair beamed. Maxwell groaned and rolled over, holding a pillow over his head. You smiled tiredly and pulled the little boy into your arms.

"Good morning Ali, where did you get that?" you asked.

"It was on the kitchen table! Look mama, it's for me!" He squealed, pointing at the name that was inked in perfect calligraphy. Your perfect calligraphy. Your heart melted slightly at the little name he'd given you. "Mama". You figured it was something Maxwell had pushed, but he swore he hadn't, and that Alistair had decided that you'd be his mama from now on anyway. Kitty was out of the picture for good now, and you were nicer to him in the past two weeks than Kitty had been to him his whole life. That was the sad truth.

"Oh, so it is." you giggled, pressing a kiss into Alistair's forehead. You rolled over slightly and pat the middle of the bed, gesturing for Alistair to come and lay down in between you and his father.

"I only ever get cards like this on my birthday and Christmas. And today is neither of those days." Alistair pondered out loud, tapping his index finger against his chin as he thought. Just like his daddy.

"Do you know what day it is, Ali?" you beckoned.

You realised Maxwell must've finally woken himself up when his hand reached over to hold yours, his thumb circling your skin. You glanced over to him and saw that his big brown eyes were watching his son.

"Ummm…"

"It's the only day of the year where I can do this," Maxwell interrupted, pressing his lips against yours and kissing you. His sudden action was enough to take your breath away and Alistair went to make a noise of disgust. But Maxwell pulled away from your lips and placed a hand over his son's mouth. "And you, mister, can't do that!" he chastised, wiggling his finger with a chuckle.

"But daddy, kissing is yucky!" Alistair frowned, sticking his tongue out in dismay. You rolled your eyes, pulled the little boy on top of you and pressed another kiss into his forehead. Since you had a hold of him, Maxwell took the opportunity to tickle Alistair, erupting a scream of laughter. "Dad-daddy! Aaah daddy please!" Alistair laughed, kicking his legs and flailing his arms around.

"Have you worked out what day it is yet?" you asked the little boy once he'd settled back down. A small blush crept upon his cheeks.

"Va-valentines day?" Alistair asked, his voice timid.

"Are you telling me that my son Alistair has a valentine?" Maxwell gasped jokingly and Alistair's grin only grew wider with excitement.

"Can I open it?" Alistair giggled happily.

"Go on!" you laughed, giving him a small nudge.

You and Max both watched intently as Alistair opened the card. Of course, you had purchased the card and wrote it out. But seeing the excitement on Alistair's face when he read ‘love from your secret admirer’ was undefeatable. It was magical, and it filled your heart with so much love and joy. Alistair was new to your life, just as new as he was to Maxwell's, but if one thing was for sure, it was that you loved him just as much as you'd love your own child. And that wasn't lost on Maxwell.

He honestly expected you might have left him. Or grown distant upon learning that he had a son. But once again, you had proven Maxwell Lord IV wrong. You were unlike any other woman he'd ever met, and now that he had the two most important people in his life, he felt like he could accomplish anything. Nothing else mattered anymore. Just you and Alistair.

"My son, only six years old and already has a secret admirer!" Maxwell chuckled, shaking his head and wrapping his arms around Alistair. "But you'll always be my boy, won't you Ali?"

"Yes daddy." Alistair smiled a toothy grin.

"Us Lord men… we always get the ladies." Maxwell told his son, causing you to belly laugh. Maxwell shot you a joking glare and you tried to stifle any more of your giggles.

"On that note," you rolled your eyes and slid out of bed. "How does pancakes for breakfast sound?"

Both Maxwell and his son cheered with joy at the thought of pancakes. You remembered you even had some strawberries and cream left over from the night before which would go well with it. You pulled your silk robe over you and padded to the kitchen.

"Do you remember the plan?" Maxwell whispered quietly once you'd left the room, cradling his son.

"I do." Alistair beamed snuggling into his father's chest. Maxwell smiled a little.

"Tonight, yeah? After dinner." Maxwell reminded his son.

"Do you love her?" Alistair quizzed further, and Max's smile grew even more.

"I do," Max confessed. "More than anything."

"I think she loves you too." Alistair said softly.

"Yeah?"

"I see the way she looks at you," Alistair mumbled. "Like how Ariel looks at Prince Eric."

"Wh-who?" Max furrowed his eyebrows together and Alistair's jaw dropped slightly.

"Okay daddy. We're all watching The Little Mermaid after dinner." Alistair decided in that moment, his tone of voice leaving no room for question.

Maxwell quirked an eyebrow. "Really? And who put you in charge?"

"I'm a Lord," Alistair said proudly. "Besides, someone has to watch over you two lovebirds. Make sure you don't get yourself in trouble."

Maxwell couldn't believe the six year old boy. Alistair was definitely Maxwell's son, that's for sure.

Just as you were finishing up frying the last pancake, the kitchen phone began to ring. You answered it, surprised to hear the voice of your lawyer— or more accurately, Maxwell's lawyer. You had been using him to defend yourself on the case between you and Tristan. He had told you that Tristan was going to be locked away for a very long time, and that you'd won the case. A wash of relief flooded over you, and finally, things were beginning to look up for you and your little family.

You called down Alistair and Maxwell once breakfast was ready, and you served the heart shaped pancakes at the table. Maxwell came down a few minutes later than Alistair and he was holding on envelope. When he sat down opposite you, he passed you the envelope with a smug grin on his face.

"What's this?" you asked curiously, and Maxwell shrugged his shoulders casually as he sipped on his black coffee. He hadn't stopped smirking though. "Maxie, we agreed on no gifts this year?" you sighed, already feeling bad for not getting him anything.

"Baby, it's not exactly a gift. I mean, it's something for both of us. Something that's important to you and well… just open it, please." he urged.

You hesitated, exchanging a glance between Max and Alistair (who was already neck deep in pancakes), before sighing and opening the envelope. Inside was a letter from a retail agent? As you read the letter, your heart began to slam against your chest. No way.

"Max… you bought my old apartment building? The whole building?" you gasped, slamming your hand over your mouth in disbelief. "You bought it in both of our names?"

"Because I knew how much it meant to you. And how much your neighbours meant to you. They were all mistreated by Tristan, and that isn't okay. I bought the property from the council so we're the rightful owners now. And we won't overcharge rent like Tristan did. We don't need to. We'll refurbish the whole place. We'll give the families who live there a safe place that they can call home, and they won't have to worry about any abuse from Tristan, or their utilities falling apart, or bills… it'll be wonderful."

"Maxwell I- I don't know what to say I…" you were utterly speechless, tears filling your eyes. Obviously this was going to cost him a lot of money and a lot to upkeep, but for the first time, it felt like it wasn't even about money. It was a grand gesture, sure, but it was also the most thoughtful and unexpected thing he'd ever done for you.

"I love you." Max revelled and you smiled.

"I love you too." you replied, leaning over the table and pressing a kiss into his lips. You glanced back down at the letter, admiring the way your surname and Max's surname looked together on the sheet of paper.

At the start of December you didn't even own a car. You couldn't even pay rent. Now you were living in a suburban manor with your perfect little family. Amongst a little bit of sugar and a little bit of spice, you had found love, meaning and purpose. You'd found your soulmate.

Just as you thought your life was good and couldn't get any better, you didn't realise what Maxwell Lord had in store for you this evening. Your whole world was about to change.

---

Sugar and Spice taglist: @100layersofdaddyissues @mrschiltoncat @honeymandos @thisisthe-wayson @this-cat-is-dea @blonde2bomshell @maiyaaaa0130 @autumnleaves1991-blog @justanotherblonde23 @softly-sad @laaadygisbooornex3 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @drinkingwhileblogging @kesskirata @honestlystop @promiscuoussatan

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @martellthemandalor

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #ww84 #pedro pascal smut #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

139 notes · View notes

skycollides · 3 years

Text

They Can Never Have Yesterday

Billy Russo x Reader

Authors note: I apologize in advance for grammar mistakes

English isn’t my native language.

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Requests are open. Feel free to send them in.

Song: Yesterday by Leona Lewis

Warning: mentions of death, guns, shooting, heartbreak, swearing, no happy end

Words: 2.182

If anyone told you about 1 and a half year ago it would come down to this - you would have thought the person absolutely crazy.

Here you are in your apartment, pointing a gun on the love of your life. The guy you thought you would spend the rest of your life with.

’’Leave Billy. I thought I was clear when I told you I want you to leave me alone.’’ you say with a firm voice trying not to show him how much he scares you.

’’Y/n.’’ Billy says and takes a step forward which causes you to take a step back.

’’Stay where you are or I’ll shoot you. I will kill you if I have to William.’’

’’Let me explain darling.’’

’’What is there to explain? All of this is your fault. Yours and no.one else’s. You got Maria and the kids killed. They were our family Billy. How could you? I don’t even know who you are anymore or how far you’ll go for money. Am I next? Will you get me killed to or will you kill me yourself?’’ tears are welling up in your eyes but you try to hide them.

’’They weren’t meant to die. Frank should be the one dead not Maria and the kids. I did it for us. For our future, to be able to take care of you. You and me against the world Y/n. I would never hurt you.’’

’’Never hurt me? You hurt me more than you’ll ever know. For us are you out of your mind? I was with you before the money and guess what? I loved you for the man you were back then. I don’t need all this fancy stuff to be happy. All I needed was you and your love but I guess that was too much to ask for. You became a selfish prick that only cares about himself, money and status. I wish I’d never met you Russo. You’re a monster.’’

’’Don’t say that baby. I’m still the man you love.’’

’’Don’t call me that! I don’t wanna hear you call me that ever again.’’

’’Why?’’

’’Because that’s what you most likely called Madani.’’ Billy stares at you with wide eyes.

’’What don’t look at me like that. Did you seriously think I wouldn’t find out? Oh Billy you’ve got so much to learn. First of all when you lie to someone make sure all parties are on board. Second you shouldn’t have gone to places where me and my friends hangout. I’ve seen you with her all cozy and so did my friends so don’t even try to deny it.’’

’’Babe please take the gun down. I’ll explain everything.’’

’’So you can kill me and throw my body in the Hudson River? No thank you. It’s fine the way it is.’’

’’You really think I could do that the love of my life?.’’

’’As I was saying before you let our family get killed. I’m not sure what you’re capable of right now.’’ you say and now the tears are streaming down you face.

’’Y/n , my sweet Y/n.’’ Billy says and comes closer which you don’t realize because you’re trying to whip the tears away. Billy uses your inattentive moment to take you to slap the gun out of your hand. It slides over the floor and stops right under your couch. You look at hime with wide eyes and try to get away from him. He runs after you and grabs you from behind carrying you to the bedroom the both of you used to share. Once you’re inside the locks the door and put the key in his pocket. You scream and kick and try to get out of his hold but it’s useless. Billy drops you on the bed and you move back against the wall, pulling your knees up to your chest. He sits down on what used to be his side and gives you a sad smile.

’’I meant what I said earlier Y/n. I won’t hurt you. Not now and not in the future.’’ he says with a calm voice. You don’t say anything you simply out your head on your knees and hope he will leave soon. Leave without finding out the secret that you’ve been keeping from him.

’’Talk to me my love.’’

’’What do you want me to say Russo? Hey I know you’re a murderer but fuck it lets get married run away and play happy family. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you’re wanted. Everyone is looking for you.’’

’’That’s quite the idea you’ve got there.’’ he says and get off the bed lays on the floor and get out a small carton. He opens it and pulls something out. A small velvet box. He hands it you and you open the box. Inside there is the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen.

’’That’s the ring I was gonna propose to you with. Well before all the shit went down. I was serious when I said that you’re the one for me. Madani was using me to get to Frank and I was using her to get the information I needed nothing more. There were no feelings involved form my side. You were always on my mind Y/n. Ever since I met you 8 years ago it was always you that’s been on my mind no one else. I would die for you Y/n. I would die before I would let anything happen to you. I love you Y/n. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before. I know I lied to you a lot in the past but saying that I love you was never one of them.’’ his speech is interrupted by a crying baby.

Your eyes go wide. This was the one thing you’ve been trying for hide since he showed up.

’’Y/n what is this?’’ he asks confused and gets off the bed heading to the bedroom door unlocking it. You jump off the bed and go after him. When you reach him he is already in your sons room staring in front of the bed.

’’Don’t hurt him please.’’ you plead.

’’Y/n come on who do think I am? Who’s kid is this?’’ he asks stares at you.

’’Ours Billy. This is our son.’’ you say and take the crying infant rocking him in your arms.

’’How? What? When?’’

’’You know how Billy or do you need a lecture about bees and flowers? When I found out? The day you and Frank were trying to kill each other. I was already 12 weeks along. I kept it secret too scared that someone would come after him because his dad fucked up peoples lives. Any other questions?’’ you say to him with an eyebrow raised.

’’What’s his name?’’

’’Aiden - Aiden William Russo.’’

’’Why? After everything I did to you - to us.’’

’’Because when I look at hime I remember all the good times we had. The love we shared. Aiden is a product of our love. I felt right to name him after his dad.’’

’’Can I hold him?’’ he asks and you look at him.

’’Please Y/n?’’ he begs and you give in. You hand him your son and he sits down in the rocking chair next to the bed.

’’Hey Buddy.’’ he says softly and kisses his forehead.

’’God he’s so beautiful Y/n.’’ he says and smiles. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile like this.

’’You did so well princess. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to take care of you two. I never imagined it would be like this when we have a child. I always thought we’d be living happily together. Why am I such a fuck up honestly?’’ he says to himself but you heard it too.

’’You thought about us having children?’’ you ask him surprised. In your eyes you’ve never seen Billy as a family man, this is completely new for you.

’’Didn’t expect that to be honest.’’

’’What’’

’’You wanting to have a family with me. Wanting me to be the mother of your children.’’

’’I’ve pictured it so often Y/n you have no idea.’’ he says and the little one stirs in his arms.

’’Shhh daddy’s here you’re safe. Nothing is gonna happen buddy.’’ Billy says and the baby calms down again. You look at the two of them for a while before you speak up.

’’Just because I’m not pointing the gun at you right now and you have our son in your arms I forgot what you did Billy. We will never have what we used to have before all the shit went down. I don’t think I’ll be able to trust you again. I don’t know who you are anymore. Hell I was scared you’d hurt our son. That’s what you actions caused.’’

’’We can make this work Y/n’’ Billy says and you shake your head.

’’I think Frank hit your head in this mirror too often. William you are wanted! The police is out looking for you. The CIA, FBI I wouldn’t even surprised if homeland was involved. Leaving my trust issues out of this right know- How the hell would this work in any way?’’

’’I have a fake passport and I set up a bank account I had it already planed before shit went south. The original plan was to kill Frank, take you and get the hell out of here. We still can do that. Get out of here and raise our son - together. I know I haven’t given you any reason to trust me lately but I all I want - all I ever wanted was to be with you. You’re my source of happiness Y/n and now this little one here too.’’

’’I don’t know that to say Billy’’

’’I’m not forcing you to say anything at all. I just want you to consider it.’’

You don’t know what to do. On one hand he’s the love of your life, the father of your child and on the other hand he’s a murderer who is responsible for the death of the castles and many other people.

’’Okay’’ you say.

’’Okay what?’’

’’Okay we’ll come with you but I swear to god if you hurt me in any way I’ll kill you in your sleep and make it look like an accident. I’m not kidding!’’

’’That’s my girl’’ he says and smile before he gets up and hand you your son. He kisses your forehead and says

’’I’ll take care of everything pack only necessary things for you and our son. I’ll come and get you when everything is set okay?’’ he says and you nod.

’’See you then my love. Bye Aiden daddy’s gonna come and get you soon. I love you buddy’’ he says and kisses his tiny hand before he leave the room.

’’Lock the door behind me sweetheart. I’ll reach out to you tonight. I love you Y/n!’’

’’I love you too.’’ you say and hear your front door close.

You put the baby in his bed and do as Billy advised you. After that you look for your gun under the couch and get it out before putting it back to its place. Then you go and start packing for the day Billy is going to come to get you and Aiden. Once you’re done you take a seat on the couch and wait. Wait for a new beginning with Billy and your son, as a family.

Little did you know that this day won’t come. Not tomorrow, not the day after tomorrow, never. Why? because Frank Castle killed Billy Russo as soon as he made it to the place where he was hiding ever since he escaped. He died knowing that the woman he loved, loved him too. She loved him enough to look past his mistakes and have a future with him. He died knowing that his son will have a wonderful mother to raise him and that she will make sure that Aiden will know that his father loved him from the moment he met him.

They can take tomorrow and the plans we made

They can take the music that we never play

They can take the future we’ll never know

They can take all the places we said we will go

All the broken dreams take everything

Just take it away

They can never have yesterday.

This is the song you chose for the funeral. The funeral no one attended except for you and your son. This pretty much summed up what Frank Castle took away from you that day, from you and little Aiden. Now you’re staying here staring at the tombstone thinking about all the days you and Billy shared.

’’Rest easy my love.’’ you say and kiss your fingertips before pressing them to the tombstone. You put Aiden back in the baby stroller and leave. Leaving the love of your life behind in the cold.

Taglist:

@justatiredfool

@artemisausten

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #Marvel The Punisher

70 notes · View notes

misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years

Text

Closets & Wendy’s.

“Last day of Pride!”

Dean projects himself onto Cas’s bed, ending up sprawled on his front, with an arm slung over Cas’s lap.

On receiving no more greeting than Cas’s hand landing in his hair and starting to card through it, he lifts his face from the comforter, props himself up on his elbows - chin tucked in a palm - and stares at his boyfriend.

Cas looks upset.

The corners of his lips tilt passively downwards, eyebrows carrying most of the weight of his frown.

“Cas?” Dean asks, neutrally - already regretting his overhyped entrance.

“I’m sorry- I don't feel -”

Words fade out, and Cas pauses. Then he turns to actually look at Dean, the sadness seeped into his eyes, and Dean doesn’t waste a moment getting up, knee-waddling over into Cas’s space and pulling him close.

Cas comes easily, planting his head on Dean’s shoulder, and exhaling a tired breath when Dean runs a hand over his back.

“What are you feeling?” Dean asks, after a beat, now trying to soothe Cas’s tense shoulders, rubbing gently over the cotton. Cas leans into his touch.

About three years of therapy, and nearly six years of being roommates - undergrads, and then actual friggin’ grad school - with Cas, basically Dean’s personal mascot for healthy communication, has led him to definitely know that it’s always a better alternative to talk about what you are going through, instead of what you aren’t.

(Or, you know, what you think you should be, just because your dumb, insensitive boyfriend who’s been obsessed with Pride since finally coming out and-slash-or best-friending up with Charlie Bradbury, is. And rather loudly, at that, because Dean Winchester’s a goddamn idiot.)

“Disappointment.” Cas says, morosely, but almost as soon as he hears his own words, he rephrases. “Uh. I’m the disappointment.”

“Well, did you secretly sneak out and mark yourself absent for the entire semester in all your 4.0 GPA classes when I wasn’t looking?”

“Dean.”

“Fine, 3.7.” Dean throws back. “Big friggin’ deal, nerd.” Cas lets out a huff of breath which almost resembles a chuckle, and Dean squeezes his arm around Cas. “You know that would’ve totally been a four if I’d been less distracting.”

“Interesting.” Cas corrects.

“Hot.” Dean throws back, just because he knows it’ll make Cas crinkle into one of his fond ‘what-do-I-do-with-you’ smiles. It does.

“Perfect.” And Cas throws in a sigh, as if to solidify his point, and leans in to nuzzle Dean’s neck in a way so intensely Cas, that if anyone else had ever tried it, he’d either end up being tickled to death, or running the hell out of dodge.

“We’re on you right now, Cheesy McCheesington.” Dean smiles back, and goes on.

He’s not willing to let Cas close up into a ball of repressed emotions with happy only on the outside. That’s way more Dean’s thing - or rather, used to be. He knows he’s bettered his coping mechanisms. Mostly because every part of his life involves Cas now, and anything with Cas is good.

They’ve grown a lot together - grown through a lot as well, and this is how they’ve done it. By talking through, the Castiel way. It still throws Dean off sometimes, how far they’ve gotten.

So when Cas whines in protest into Dean’s shirt, he knows exactly how to turn it into a side-hug. One of those, where they end up staring at each other from a three-inch distance.

Staring hard, Dean says it. “You’re the farthest thing from a disappointment, Cas. To anyone.”

The lecturers all adored him, their friends made it a point to keep proclaiming their affection out loud (thank god for Charlie Bradbury and co.), and Dean doesn’t think he could be more proud of Cas if he tried.

He was a goddamn wonder.

He’d gone from a lanky, private-schooled, what’s-a-Star-War schmuck to one of Dean’s favorite people in the world. He was hilarious, and a genius, and kind. He’d grown into his shoulders, and into a stubbly kind of an age, and into this awesome, intelligent, pancake-making man of Dean’s dreams, and into his bee obsessions and organizational neatness - and complete, total perfection.

(Dean needs him, appreciates him, and (not that subtly - to his credit), loves him in a forever sort of way.)

But before Dean’s properly began to remind Cas of any of it, he’s interrupted.

“I’m disappointing me, Dean.”

There’s resignation in his tone, and evidence in every word he says.

“June’s over. Again. And for all the marching with painted cheeks and the megaphones? For all the parades, and the celebrations of our identities, the togetherness, the being proud of being ourselves?” Cas lets out, bitterly, and Dean realizes he knows where Cas is going with this. “And I still haven’t come out to my family.”

Dean waits, sure that Cas isn’t finished.

“How have I not done it yet?” Cas hisses, and it almost startles him - he’s swapped the upset for angry. It’s rarer. “I’ve known since I was a teenager - and we’ll have been together for five years in three months, Dean, and I just - I cannot believe I still can’t do it.”

He sounds helpless, and Dean wants to jump in, but he needs Cas to get the words out first.

“What’s the matter with me? Am I not brave enough, or strong enough - or am I still hanging onto the hope that they’ll suddenly become better human beings and not disown me when I tell them?” Cas scoffs.

He’s pissed at himself.

“Maybe I still lack, as you say, free will.”

Dean has to step in at that. “That was six years ago, and you know I wouldn’t say it now.”

“Why not?” Cas challenges. “I couldn’t tell them then, either. I clearly haven’t changed.”

“Other things, Cas.” Dean says, and grits his teeth. This isn’t supposed to be them yelling. Cas is frustrated, and Dean’s listening - he can’t be frustrated back at him for the way he expresses it. “Other things have changed.”

Cas gives him a look, but Dean holds his end of it until it crumbles. Cas changes his offense. Mellows down - probably when he sees Dean’s restraint. “This is important to me. I want to do it. Then why can’t I tell them?”

He’s asking himself, but he’s also asking the only person who knows him as well as he knows himself, yet he’s also not asking at all - simultaneously, it’s also rhetorical.

Dean licks his lips.

“Whatever be the answer to that, Cas, first things first. This doesn’t imply you’re not proud enough.”

Cas looks away.

“Or, for that matter, not panromantic or demisexual enough.”

Sigh. Shuffle, shift. And then he looks back up at Dean. The tears weren’t there before. “How do you know, Dean?”

“‘Cause I know this doesn’t decide that.”

“Why not?” Cas says, quietly.

“‘Cause,” He repeats. “How queer you are isn’t measured on a scale of how soon you come out once you know.” He pauses, judges the air. “It usually isn’t measured at all, unless we’re talking about a magical thing known as the Kinsey Scale.”

He judged right.

Cas coughs, and it’s definitely to disguise a reluctant snicker.

“And you know, even if it were measured on the weird first thing,” Dean adds, serious again. “There’d totally be a different clause, and a separate key, mind you, for the people with douchebag families.”

“They prefer conservative, I think.” Cas says, smally, after an entire minute, as if he’d actually been rerunning Dean’s speech in his head for that long.

Dean shrugs.

Cas almost smiles. He’s calmed down.

“The strange thing is that it makes no sense.” He begins, heavy, albeit less severe on himself. “I’m twenty six. We co-own this apartment, and we pay our bills. We’re completely independent.” It never stops sounding surreal. That’s for another time. “Mother calls me on third Sundays, Gabriel sends Christmas cards. Other than that, I only spend Thanksgiving lunches with them, each year more horrible than the last. I know I wouldn’t miss any of them, nor regret being written out of the will. Or have my Novak cemetery spot passed onto Michael’s oldest. Or the gardener.”

Dean snorts at that. The Novaks are truly something else.

“There is no reason I can’t just come out. I just -” Cas cuts into his own sentence with a sigh, one signifying that he’s finally done speaking, and he reclaims Dean’s shoulder once more.

What’s important right now, is to make him feel better. A resolution to this isn’t within grasp at the moment, and Cas sounds drained. Dean - well, he does what he does best. He segues.

“Wait.” Cas lifts his head. “You didn’t actually say you’re not out, did you?”

Cas squints at him.

“Dude. Being out doesn’t just mean telling your family. And getting subjected to toxicity and trauma, by means of it.” Dean points out, earnest. By that logic, courtesy of a long-dead mom, and a relatively-shorter-dead dad, he’s in the closet as well. “Hell, you put your hand in my back pocket at KFC, yesterday.”

“Oh.” Cas blinks.

Dean grins, and Cas’s surprise makes it easy to do so. “You bet my publicly grabbed ass, it counts.”

Cas knows it counts. He knows everything that counts. But he indulges himself, and he indulges Dean - his bad mood slowly dissipating. “What else?”

“You kissed me at Wendy’s last week.” Dean informs him, eyebrows raised. “Held my hand for a really long time in a Starbucks queue on Saturday. Oh, and all the gay bars count, buddy. Especially the bits where we grind on the dance floor, and then I blow you in the stall.”

Cas opens his mouth to protest that has only happened once, but Dean meets his eyes with a pointed look. He’s got to bring it up.

“Every time I’ve ever taken you to a steak joint counts too. ‘Cause trust me, those are always dates, whether you know it or not.”

“Long drives are a date to you.” Cas deadpans.

“Yeah, and Baby will never say you’re not out.” Dean throws back, and Cas actually makes it to a smile this time. Dean’s left feeling accomplished. (And sort of dazed, because it’s going to take a lot more than six years for him to get used to Cas being so easily beautiful, and being it right next to him.)

“You said you loved me for the first time at the Roadhouse.” Cas says.

Dean blushes.

“And then you ran away before I could react, got really drunk and karaoke’d I’m Too Sexy on the stage, and passed out on my lap right as I tried to say it back to you.”

This is definitely not his favorite story, but it always lights Cas up, and that’s all that matters, really - so he rolls his eyes half-heartedly and Cas smiles wider.

Silence prevails for a moment.

“Look.” Dean ends up being the one to break it. Cas listens, hanging onto each word. “You’re the only one who knows why you can’t do it, okay? My best guess would be an internalized decision to avoid conflict. Maybe you call your old therapist tomorrow - like, I dunno, a cameo from Castiel, unresolved coming-out issues sorta thing. Of course, we can talk about it too. Get six cheeseburgers and twelve beers, and figure things out on your own. But it’s up to you.” Cas exhales into a little smile. “All I know is, it doesn’t matter to anyone that you haven’t told your family, if it doesn’t matter to you.

Cas nods, a couple of times, and there’s the barest hint of tears again, but this time doesn’t make Dean want to punch God.

It makes him want to hug Cas, so he goes for it.

“Even if you were in the closet, Cas? I’d say the same.” Dean adds, as an afterthought, about a minute into a hug which doesn’t seem to be nearing an end. Not really. No one minds, so there’s that. “This community, this month - everything about Pride is about all of us, and if Charlie’s ever called me handmaiden, trust me she’s said this a million times. It means everyone. Includes people in the closet, every bit as those who’re out.”

Cas hums in agreement, and tilts his head against Dean’s.

“In any case,” Dean teases. “Your family’s over in Illinois, anyways. Here, where it counts? You’re as out as you can be.”

“I could kiss you in more Wendy’s.” Cas contemplates, because he’s awesome like that.

“What has Burger King ever done to you?”

Dean listens to him considering it with a thoughtful note, and mutters a “Dork.” It helps keep him grounded for he feels like he’s floating right now - ‘cause there’s something about the way Cas holds onto him. Tighter.

Like somehow, even after all this time, they managed to fall a little more in love today.

And somehow, they’ll keep doing it forever.

537 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch47: Use Your Words, Old Man

Intro: Jamie reaches another milestone, and 2021 ticks by with many more memories for the Rogers and Stark family.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: I adore the edit again... @angrybirdcr did good!!!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 46

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

May 2021

“Jamie, no!” Steve swooped down and picked up the tot who had been toddling, albeit, unsteadily, towards Lucky giggling away. Lucky, however, was fast enough to understand and jumped up bolting towards the door of the room, leaping over the baby gate to avoid Jamie’s vice like grip on his ears.

“NO!” Jamie yelled and Steve stopped dead, Jamie in his large arms, as Katie looked up at them both, her mouth falling open.

“Did he just…?” she held her breath. The fourteen month old had been uttering the odd thing that sound like a word for a good few months now, but nothing that anyone would recognise as a proper term.

Until now.

“Yeah I think so!” Steve grinned, looking at her then his son. “Did you just talk buddy? Did you just say no?” “NO! No, No!” Jamie wriggled in his dad’s arms, grabbing at his shirt. Katie, who had managed to get the last few iterations of the word on her phone camera, grinned as Steve placed him back on the floor where he headed over to this play-mat and landed with a thud on the floor, picking up a pile of the large, coloured blocks he liked to play with.

“Of course his first word would be no.” She sighed as Steve sat on the couch next to her. He laughed and dropped a hand to her knee.

“To be fair, honey, that’s what we spend half our time telling him one way or another.” Katie snorted, that much was true. Since he had been fully mobile and walking unaided over the last two months, they had constantly been moving things out of his reach or removing them from his grasp, followed by the word. Nine times out of ten the tot was content to let them do so, but the odd time he would throw a temper tantrum to rival those of his Momma’s.

“NO!” Jamie called again, clacking the blocks together and Steve gave a grin, moving off the couch to drop by his son on the play-mat. Katie watched the two of them for a moment, smiling to herself. She knew it was a cliché but she literally couldn’t have wished for a better father for either of her kids. They were experiencing first parenting issues at both ends of the spectrum, with Emmy five months off her fourteenth birthday and Jamie two months on from his first. It wasn’t easy, hell, they spent half their time second guessing their decisions. Where they being too strict or too lenient with Emmy? Was Jamie developing right? Were his toys educational enough? Was the floor clean enough for him to be crawling or lying on with having a dog in the house? But, when she saw moments like this, Jamie now trying to push his large, red Mega-Block into his Dad’s mouth, Steve clamping his lips together and shaking his head making their son screech with laughter, all her worries faded away.

Jamie really was fast turning into a miniature version of his dad, which was another thing Katie loved. Steve himself didn’t see it, but there had been a moment a few weeks back where the soldier had recognised someone he knew, loved and missed daily in his Son, and it had choked both Parents up.

Steve was led on his back on the bed, Jamie cackling away as his dad was holding him at arms-length and then bringing him back down again to blow a raspberry on his cheek, repeating the motion over and over, until he paused and his eyes widened a little. Katie frowned slightly at the look on his face as Steve gulped, looking into his son’s eyes, their familiarity hitting him like a brick.

“Soldier, what is it?” Katie asked, as Steve’s eyes misted up and he swallowed thickly.

“His eyes. Erm, do you think they’ll carry on turning green?”

Katie frowned. “I don’t know, I doubt it. Apparently most babies, if their eyes are gonna change, will have done it by six months. Why do you ask?”

“I just, well, I never thought I’d see those eyes again.” He whispered, gently resuming his actions.

“I’m not following you, love.” Katie frowned

“He has my ma’s eyes” Steve’s voice was choked as he looked at her, bringing Jamie down to his chest, pressing a kiss to his head, a soft smile playing on his face.

“Then you see your mother’s eyes every time you look in the mirror.” Katie smiled, leaning over to give him a soft kiss as her own chest felt slightly tighter than normal. She wiped a tear Steve hadn’t even been aware he’d shed off his check gently with her thumb, leaving her hand trailing softly across his skin. “Because when I look at him all I see is you. Those eyes are yours.”

He looked up at her and smiled, “yeah?” “Yeah,” she nodded, “I think you’re more like your mother than you realise. Maybe not in looks completely but, well, she raised you single handed. You’re the man you are because of her.”

“She was a fantastic woman.” Steve sighed.

“Well then you should be proud.” Katie said, and he smiled looking over at her.

“I am,” he replied softly, his attention going back to his son, “and you know what else I’m proud of?”

“What?”

“That you’re a Mrs Rogers too.” He looked at her again. “I know it’s just a name but, I really am glad you took it. Jamie has a Rogers momma as good as mine, helping to carry the name forward.”

“You sentimental sap.” Katie sniffed slightly as her own tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

“I love you so much.” He beamed at her, pressing his lips to hers softly. “Even if you are still a Stark really.” She laughed against his lips,”jerk.”

Katie turned back to the laptop she’d been looking at, flicking through a few spreadsheets with the latest figures the SIDE accountants had produced. Steve and Emmy’s idea around the support groups had been well received by everyone involved with the foundation and as such they’d started drafting up the paper work and working out the estimated funding. Steve had consulted Rhodey about the programme and the Colonel had enthusiastically agreed it was a great idea, and as such they’d pitched it to the Government, President Ellis’ reaction had been the same as theirs – why didn’t we think of this before?

As such, they were currently working up the particulars such as how they set up across the country, mobilisation, publicity…and Steve had taken up control of the project, his natural leadership qualities made him a superb Project Manager. He’d also expressed an interest in actually running the ones across New York himself, another way he felt he could help.

They were aiming to open the first ones in September, running two a week for the time being, just to see how well they were received and, from a purely selfish point of view, Katie was enjoying working alongside him again and having him at home permanently instead of traveling with the Military.

“How many groups do you think you’re gonna have eventually?” She asked and Steve tuned to look at her, momentarily confused by her sudden change of topic until he realised what she was talking about.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “I’d like eventually to maybe run them three times a week, twice a day. Give everyone who wants to come a chance to you know…why d’ya ask?” “Just drilling into these numbers. I reckon we have enough to fund that to start with,” she paused, “and if the government meet our request then we can step it up.” He nodded. “I put the design idea in for the fliers and posters yesterday. Has to be the most sombre thing I’ve ever drawn.”

“I know,” she said softly, “but it’s gonna make a difference Steve, focus on that.”

He was about to reply but he was cut off when they heard the voice from the security system informing them that the gate had been opened by ‘Emmy Rogers’. Steve glanced at the clock and frowned.

“It’s not even one?”

“They’re on half day,” Katie didn’t look up from the numbers on the screen, “teacher training or something.”

Moments later the front door opened and the chatter of two excited teenage girls hit their ears and Lucky gave a bark, his nails clicking on the wooden floor as he trotted through from where he had been on his bed under the stairs to greet Emmy.

“I know, it’s so cool, right?” Emmy was saying, as her voice grew louder. “I never thought they’d do anything like this, not after the Decimation but, oh hi buddy!”

They heard Lucky’s excited whine as Emmy continued to coo at him, before the two girls and dog appeared in the lounge doorway.

“What’s so cool?” Steve asked instantly and Emmy rolled her eyes.

“Do you earwig into every conversation I have?” She opened the baby-gate and stepped into the room.

“Yes.” Steve deadpanned. “Now spill.” “It’s a Geography field trip Mr R.” Brooke grinned. “Hamilton for the Niagara Escarpment.”

“Canada?” Katie smiled before her smile turned to a smirk as she side eyed Steve “I had a vacation in Canada once.” Steve shot her a glare and his voice dropped to a growl. “That’s not funny.” He said sternly. The memory of what she’d been through wasn’t a laughing matter as far as he was concerned. She flashed him a grin and he rolled his eyes. “So when is it?” He turned to Emmy.

“Last week of term in June.” She answered, reaching down to pick Jamie up who had toddled over to his sister excitedly chattering jibberish as he went. “Just for three nights. I know it’s really short notice but apparently they weren’t sure they could pull it off. Hi Jay!” She swung him up and kissed the little boy on the cheek as Brooke gently tweaked his nose causing him to laugh.

“Six weeks, yeah that is short notice.” Katie pondered. “Do you wanna go?” Emmy’s eyes lit up and she nodded. “I’d love to.” Steve took in a deep breath and Katie looked at him. She could see him grappling with something but Jamie spoke before he could.

“No!”

“Did he just talk?” Emmy’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, he hasn’t shut up saying it for the last hour.” Katie grinned “Look, have you got the details of the trip?” “In my bag.”

“Okay, well leave them on the table, me and your dad will give it the once over and we’ll talk about it later.”

Emmy placed Jamie down on the floor and fished in her bag for the forms before she dropped them onto the coffee table with a soft slap. Jamie wandered this time over to Katie who set her laptop down and picked him up. He sat on her lap and gently wound his hand into her hair, rubbing his face into her neck the way he always did when he was tired.

“I’m gonna put him down for a nap.” Katie stood up and looked at the two girls. “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“Pool!” They both grinned, sharing a hi-five before Emmy looked at her mom, the familiar hopeful expression on her face she always got when she was about to ask for something.

“Can Brooke stay?”

Katie arched an eyebrow. “I thought that was a given, seeing as you’re both already here.”

The two girls grinned and Emmy looked at her mom again, her smile growing even bigger. “And, can we get Thai tonight? It is Friday.” “Dontcha mean Thaiday?” Steve quipped causing Katie to groan as Emmy picked up a cushion off the couch with her spare arm and hit her dad with it.

“That is so lame.” Emmy rolled her eyes as Brooke cackled. “C’mon…”

Katie watched as they left the room, Steve still chuckling at his own joke.

“She’s right.” Katie looked at him, gently re-arranging Jamie slightly as he had started to nod off. “That was lame.”

Steve gave her a look of mock hurt, clutching his chest, before she left and he sat up to read the information Emmy had left on the table. He was struggling a little bit between wanting to let her go and also the worry that had instantly flooded his system about her being safe. He carefully read the details, the trip wasn’t cheap, not that that really mattered, the activities looked good, and a quick google showed him the hotel looked fairly reasonable and was in a nice enough area…

“I knew you’d be on that as soon as you could be.” Katie laughed and Steve looked up at her from his spot on the floor by the table and he gave a sheepish grin.

“Busted,” he sighed, “I just wanted to look into it properly. I really want her to go and enjoy stuff like this but…” “We can’t keep her sheltered, Steve.” Katie reasoned. “No matter how much we want to. She’s gonna be fourteen this time round.” “I know, I know.” He sighed “Do you think we should let her go?” “Yeah, I do.” Katie nodded “We’re lucky enough to be able to afford things like that for our kids, plenty of other families aren’t.”

Steve’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek for a moment as he considered his wife’s words. She was right. Emmy would never have been on a trip like this before, and it did look like a lot of fun.

“Alright.” He heaved himself up off the floor “You’ve convinced me.” Katie grinned “If only everything was that easy.” “It is.” He arched an eyebrow. “All you have to do is pull those eyes at me.” “What eyes?” She asked innocently. “You know damned well what eyes. Those eyes. The ones that can get me to do whatever you want.” “Is it working now?” She looked up at him, batting her eyelashes. “Why, what do you want?” He asked, smirking, knowing full well what she was implying as her hands slid up his chest.

“Well the girls are out at the pool,” her eyes followed her fingers as they started to undo the buttons of his Henley, “and Jamie’s asleep…” Grinning, Steve span her round, shoved her gently forward and aimed a smack to her ass causing her to yelp playfully. “Get up those stairs Mrs Rogers.” He growled, and the pair of them hurried off, giggling like a pair of naughty school kids till they reached their bedroom, where the giggles turned into shared moans, groans and happy sighs.

**** “Thanks for dropping Brooke off.” Jennifer placed a latte down in front of Katie.

“It was no problem, I had to come this way on my way up to the compound anyway.” Katie smiled and then frowned slightly as she noticed the look on her friend’s face.

“You alright?” She asked gently.

“Not really,” Jen sighed, sitting down. “Brooke called last night about the field trip…” “Yeah Steve wasn’t so keen but I talked him round. The girls seem to be looking forward to it.” “That’s the thing.” Jen rubbed at her temple “I really want Brooke to go but, well, business hasn’t been what it used to be before, you know, and I’m not sure I can afford it. Not at such short notice.” Katie instantly felt like a jerk. She knew she was incredibly privileged to be so wealthy but was well aware many weren’t as fortunate.

“I haven’t had the heart to tell her yet.” Jen swallowed and Katie bit her lip.

“Jen,” she leaned over the table dropping her voice, “if you want…” “No.” Jen shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line, instantly understanding what Katie was offering “I’m not a charity case.” Her voice was clipped. “No, that’s not what I meant.” Katie hastily assured the woman. “Honestly, I didn’t mean to offend you.” “I know.” Jen shook her head “Sorry,that was really ungrateful.” “It’s fine.” Katie waved her apology off, “but the offer is there. We could consider it a loan if you liked.” Jen chewed her lip, and Katie saw her friend’s eyes begin to water.

“Look,” Katie gripped her mug, “it’s a couple of hundred bucks. And this probably sounds crass and really, really fucking shitty when I think about it, but I make more than enough and I really, really won’t notice that amount going out, trust me.”

“I just hate this, you know.” Jen hastily wiped her face. “A few years ago this place was thriving and now, well I just about make enough to cover bills and the thought she is the one that has to miss out…” “Then let me help.” Katie pleaded, looking at the red head opposite her. “Brooke’s been a good friend to Emmy and, well, from a selfish point of view I’d be a lot more comfortable if they were together.”

“That’s really kind of you.” Jennifer nodded after a pause. “Are you sure? I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

“Whenever, it’s not a big deal.” Katie nodded, smiling “On one condition.” “What?”

“You sneak me one of your delicious brownies every once in a while.” Jenifer laughed “Oh honey, you and Steve can get free coffee and brownies for life.” “Erm, yeah, pretty sure in a month you’d be bankrupt if I told Steve that.” Katie grinned and Jenifer smiled.

“Would you like to come over?” She asked suddenly. “The pair of you, for dinner maybe? Tonight? Emmy and Jamie as well, of course.”

“Yeah, that sounds great.” Katie smiled. “We’re not doing anything that I know of but I’ll check with Steve and let you know as soon as I can.”

“Great, well, Emmy can stay here if she likes. I’m sure once I tell Brooke she can go they’ll be planning all sorts of mischief.”

“I dread to think.” Katie mused “You know I remember my last field trip. It was to San Fran and I was sixteen. Me and my friend, a girl called Laura, I made some fake ID and we got plastered in a bar. Tony absolutely kicked my ass, before he told me he was actually quite impressed at the quality of my forgeries.”

Jennifer snorted “Yeah, this isn’t exactly filling me full of confidence.”

Katie laughed. “Emmy is much better behaved than I was at that age, Steve wouldn’t stand for her getting into the same amount of crap as I did.” She drained her mug and stood up. “I best be going.”

“Sure, see you tonight? What time will suit with Jamie?”

“Well he normally goes down about seven and he’ll just sleep in his car seat.” Katie smiled “So say six ish? I can feed him and settle him then at yours before we eat.”

“Fab.” Jenifer stood up and Katie mirrored her.“And thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Katie smiled, and she handed Jen her mug. Once the woman was out of sight she dug into her purse and dropped the customary twenty bucks into the tip jar on her way out.

****

Steve was in the kitchen when he heard his wife come home. He didn’t move though, he was too busy watching his son, trying to figure out how the hell the fourteen month old had managed to climb up on top of the breakfast bar unaided. Steve had turned his back for thirty goddamned seconds to load the dishwasher and now his son was crawling along the unit. The only explanation was he’d used one of the stools as leverage, but even that was baffling the Captain, and there was no way Jamie should have been able to manage that, at all.

“Thank you Dr Erskine” Steve grumbled as he swept his son off the surface. “You’re gonna be the death of me, pal.” “No!” Jamie cackled, and Steve sighed, his son carefully held in his arms as Katie walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Doll.” He smiled, dropping a kiss to her lips.

“Hi.” She greeted him, returning his gentle sign of affection before she blew a raspberry on Jamie’s cheek. He giggled as she made her way to the fridge and Steve deposited their boy on the mat at the corner of the room.

“How was Nat?” Steve asked and Katie sighed, grabbing out a bottle of water and opening it.

“Still insisting on flying out to Nepal.” She shut the fridge. “I’ve told her Barton doesn’t wanna be found, but…” she trailed off. “And Bruce has gone again.”

“Where to this time?” Steve frowned.

“Back to the lab in Seoul.” Katie shrugged. “I don’t know what for. Anyway, I told her to come for dinner on Sunday and that if she misses it again this week imma kick her ass.” Steve smiled as Katie took a drink from the bottle “Oh, and speaking of dinner, we’re not doing anything tonight are we?”

“Not at the moment, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me we are.” “Jen’s asked us round.” Katie sat down at the table.

“That’s nice of her.” Steve poured himself mug of coffee, Katie waving away his offer of one. “You wanna go?”

“Yeah, and it’s kind of a thank you so we should do really.”

“What for?” He sat down opposite her.

“Well, she was upset about not being able to send Brooke on the Field Trip so I offered to help out money wise.She didn’t want to take it at first but she agreed in the end. As long as it’s a loan”

“I’m glad she did. I’m assuming Emmy has stayed with them for the day?”

Katie hummed a response.

“Those two are joined at the hip.” Steve snorted

“Another reason I really wanted Brooke to go.”

A movement caught Steve’s eye from the corner of the room and he looked up to see Jamie was now stood up again and was heading back towards the breakfast bar. He quietly observed his son, watching as the boy gripped the legs of one of the stools and pulled himself up. Steve was horrified to see that he was managing to lift his legs off the floor, swinging them onto the foot bar.

“James, No!” He said loudly. The use of their boy’s full name didn’t pass Katie by and she turned in her seat to see Jamie looking at his father before he let go of the stool and fell backwards onto his butt, the pout on his face reminding Steve so much of his wife that he had to stifle a laugh. Katie watched as he got to his feet and toddled towards her.

“He managed to get up onto the kitchen counter before.” Steve eyed the boy as Katie picked him up and sat him on her knee. “What?” Katie’s voice was high pitched as she whipped her head round to look at Steve. “How the hell?”

“Beats me, although from that I suspect he was using the stool as a climbing frame.” Steve sighed watching as Jamie’s attention turned to the now empty bottle of water in front of Katie. “I was loading the dishwasher and in the time it took me to put the plates in he’d made it from his play mat to the top of the damned breakfast bar.” “This is your fault.” Katie laughed, smoothing down her son’s blonde hair. “You and your damned super serum.”

“I know.” Steve shook his head. “I thought we could take him and Lucky out for a walk maybe see if that settles his energy.”

Katie checked her watch “Yeah, we could do. Maybe head to the park. If we go now then we should be back for his nap.”

“Or we can wait a while, and he can sleep in the stroller and I can take you for lunch?”

“Okay so that sounds even better” she grinned “You know, you’re not as dumb as-“

Steve never found out what he wasn’t as dumb as, because at that moment they heard a yell that made his breath catch.

“DADA!”

The parents looked at one another, a shit eating grin spreading across Steve’s face as he leaned forward across the table.

“Dada?” Katie asked, pointing at Steve, bouncing Jamie on her knee. “Dada!” Jamie babbled again, grinning. “Dada!”

“Typical.” Katie rolled her eyes. “I carry you for nine months, give birth, feed you from my boobs and you come out looking like your father and you say Dada first. That’s gratitude for you”

“Guess that means I’m his favourite.” Steve teased, slumping back in his chair, earning himself a glare from his wife. He blew her a kiss, shrugging.

Steve was pleased, however that Katie didn’t have to wait long for her turn. A few days later when she went into Jamie’s room to get him up for the morning he beamed at her and held his arms up exclaiming “ma-ma!” Steve watched his wife on the baby monitor screen and felt his heart swell to what felt like five times its normal size as Katie picked up their son, her eyes pricking with tears and held him tight.

*****

June 2021

Katie woke with a start, pausing for a moment, wondering why it was so quiet. It took her a second but then she remembered Jamie was at Tony’s, staying for a sleepover. As Emmy was on her field trip, Pepper and Tony had taken the boy to give Katie and Steve a night on their own, the first one they had had in a very long time. Tony had rung them mid-afternoon to ask who on earth had taught him the word ‘whatever’, albeit in Jamie’s pronunciation ‘tever’ and Katie had laughed, that one was firmly down to Emmy. He hadn’t quite managed the sign to go with it yet thought, despite her best attempts.

They’d taken full advantage of it too. Steve had gone into complete romantic overdrive, coming home from a meeting at the tower with a bunch of calla lilies for his wife and told her to get dressed up as they were going out. They’d headed into Brooklyn for a meal at a small Italian (Katie only checking her phone five times, which was an improvement on the twenty the first time they’d left Jamie with his Uncle) and they’d had a great time. It had been intimate, and they’d teased each other relentlessly meaning when they got home they hadn’t even made it up the stairs before they’d been clawing at each other, desperate touches and kisses shared in the hallway before they’d both tumbled into the lounge onto the rug in front of the fire. Grinning to herself at the slight tenderness between her legs, Katie turned over and glanced at Steve who gently shifted in his sleep, a sure sign that he was slowly waking. She scooted closer and rested her hand on his chest, her smile widening as he unconsciously let out a soft sigh of contentment. His eyes were moving under their lids, and as her hand started trailing down over his stomach he took in a deep breath, finally opening his eyes and meeting her gaze just as her touch dipped below the waistband of his boxers. He let out a low groan.

“You’re awake early considering the kids are away.” He murmured, kissing the skin in the crook of her shoulder, his morning stubble scratching her skin slightly as she continued her strokes, teasing him lightly.

“Force of habit.” She whispered back, sighing as he kissed her neck again and again. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close until she was pressed against him, his thigh between hers as he rolled them both over so she was nestled under him. His lips made their way to hers and he gave her a deep, languid kiss as she shifted so that her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against her. Steve propped himself up with his left arm while his other hand went under the shirt she was wearing, his shirt, to her chest, his fingertips barely brushing against her nipples. She groaned loudly at his touch, and he was just about to warn her to be quiet, but then he realised he didn’t have to. With the knowledge that he really could make her scream, he hastily pulled the top over her head and his lips crashed back to hers, the kiss hot and intentional as her legs gripped him tightly in an attempt to get a little more friction between them. He went to tug at the waistband of her underwear, barely breaking his lips away from hers for a moment.

“You want me?” He asked, his voice low and raspy.

“Always,” she groaned, aware of the desperation that flooded her tone and Steve let out a low growl. Katie felt the tearing along one side of the thin lace garment he had hold of and she laughed into his mouth, remembering their first time together when he had done the very same thing. Her fingers scrambled to push down his boxers as he repositioned himself slightly, reaching down with his hand to line himself up, before he gently worked into her. Man and wife both let out a satisfied sigh as Steve’s hand grabbed Katie’s knee and hitched it over his shoulder, a move he knew drove her wild. She moaned loudly and her fingers dug into his arms as he starting pushing a little harder, a little faster, then faster, until he had reached a relentless pace making his wife curse and leaving her short of breath.

He slowed for a moment, making her look at him, letting out a noise of protest. “Don’t stop,” she begged, “Please Stevie.”

Grinning slightly he picked up the pace again, enjoying the noises she was making as she keened underneath him, her head pressing further back into the pillow a she gave another loud cry of his name before he felt her tighten round him as she came, her nails biting at the skin on his arms. He continued to thrust three, four more times before the snake in his belly uncoiled and he jerked on top of her with a loud cry of his own and let go of her leg, collapsing onto her, his face buried into her neck.

“Morning,” she mumbled, her hands tangling into his hair and he let out a soft chuckle.

“Morning, Beautiful.”

They stayed in bed for another hour or so, just laying with one another and talking before it was time to shower. They did that together too, and by the time they were climbing into the car to go and pick Jamie up, Katie was feeling literally and figuratively thoroughly fucked and fell asleep on the journey, Steve smirking to himself at the fact he could still tire her out like that after almost eight years of being with one another.

“Late night was it?” Tony quipped as Katie let out a yawn as she walked into his living room.

“Yeah, and an early morning,” she shot back and Tony snorted, shaking his head.

“Dada!” Jamie giggled as he tottered over from where he had been sat on the rug with Morgan and Pepper “Mama!”

“Hi, Baby!” Katie swept him up in her arms and placed a kiss to his cheek “We missed you.” “Nee!” He said gleefully and Katie frowned, and it wasn’t until he pointed to his uncle and repeated the word that she understood. “Nee!”

Steve let out a snort “Uncle Nee. Suits you Tone.” “Shut up, Spangles” Tony raised an eyebrow as Morgan laughed.

“Uncle Pangles!” The two year old quipped as if on cue, and Steve let out a moan

“Did you teach her that?” He looked accusingly at his brother in law.

“Of course he did.” Pepper sighed, sweeping the small girl into her arms as she stood up, smirking at Katie. “You guys eaten breakfast yet or were you too busy?” Katie let out a snort. “If there’s any going I won’t say no.”

Pepper handed Morgan to Steve as she was trying to reach him and he took her, tossing her into the air ignoring the wince from Tony as he did so, catching the girl expertly.

“Again!” she pleaded and Steve obliged happily, knowing that it was winding Tony up only added to the enjoyment of seeing his niece cackle with laughter. “When’s Emmy back?” Tony asked, tearing his eyes away from where Steve was tossing his daughter in the air like he was wielding that fucking shield to look at his sister.

“This evening.” Katie answered. “Spoke to her last night, not sure she wants to come home.” “I remember your field trip to San Fran.” Tony mused, raising an eyebrow and Katie snorted.

“Yeah, so do I.” She smirked “I was telling Jen about that the other month. My first hangover.” “Okay, can you stop that now!” Tony rounded on Steve who grinned and rest Morgan on his hip and she pouted.

“More!”

“Sorry, Moo.” Steve apologised and she gave a huff as he placed her on the floor and she headed off to find her mum in the kitchen. He arched an eyebrow at Tony who rolled his eyes.

“Dick.” He mumbled.

“Dick.” Jamie repeated loudly and Katie’s eyes widened. Steve looked at his son, utterly horrified, then to Tony whose shocked expression was fast turning into one of utter glee.

“Oh you-” Steve glared at Tony as Katie bit her lip to try and stop her laughter “For f-“ he stopped himself, took a deep breath and pointed at Tony. “You are an absolute…”

“Use your words, Old Man!” Tony grinned, delightedly and Steve’s jaw clenched as he turned so his back was to his son and raised his hand, flipping his brother-in-law off.

*****

October 2021

“Your daddy is gonna be soaked” Katie mused to Jamie as she looked out of the window “It’s absolutely pouring with rain.”

“Dada. Rain!” Jamie grinned, chanting the words back at her, ignoring the small piece of toast that was left on his plate.

Steve had gone for his morning run with Lucky before he headed out to the first of the two support groups he was running that day. He had held the first one in September in an old church hall, and at first Katie was worried that more people would attend to take their anger out on him and had wanted to be there to help but Steve refused point blank, but her concern wasn’t completely unfounded as a lot of people were angry at first, but no one else hit him, and he said it was actually therapeutic for him too, as he could answer questions, and speak honestly and openly about how he felt about the situation. As it turned out, Steve was a natural born councillor as well as a leader, and by the end of the month he had six different groups running through the week at different places across Manhattan. It was good for him and he was relishing the fact he could still be useful.

The back door opened, and Katie could hear the man she was thinking about stepping into the small utility room off the side of the kitchen.

“Ahhh thanks, pal, “his voice dripped with sarcasm as she heard Lucky’s tag tinkling along with the noise of the dog shaking, “that’s great. really great.” Katie chuckled to herself, picturing his face as he continued to grumble

“Could have waited until I got a towel.”

“DADA!” Jamie yelled at the sound of his dad’s voice, squirming in his seat, breakfast abandoned. “Ucky!”

“Hey, Buddy” Steve called back, as Katie undid the straps from his high chair and they made their way into the utility area where Steve was drying Lucky off as best he could with an old towel. Lucky took the opportunity as soon as he could to scoot past Katie into the kitchen.

Jamie glanced at his dad and excitedly wiggled his arms and legs as Steve shrugged off his sodden waterproof running jacket.

“Hi!” He screeched “Hi Dada!”

Steve’s bright smile light up his face “Hi, Son.” He kissed him once on both cheeks and Jamie squeaked happily before Katie set him down and he toddled back over to the play-mat in the corner of the kitchen.

“What, no kiss from my baby mama?” Steve asked, sweeping Katie into his arms and rubbing at her neck with his cold, damp face.

She squealed and tried to pull away, to absolutely no avail, and Steve continued to laugh and use her as a drying cloth.

“Ew! You’re cold and damp and sweaty!” She wrinkled her nose.

“You don’t seem to mind my sweat when I’m chasing your fourth orgasm.” Steve quipped cheekily, dropping his voice to barely more than a whisper, making her laugh.

“That’s different.” “How?”

“Because that’s sex sweat, this is run sweat.”

Steve laughed loudly “I didn’t realise I had different sweat pores for different activities”

“I didn’t mean that!” Katie rolled her eyes “I mean that I’m not sweaty now, I’m warm, and dry…” “Yeah, and if you give me a moment I can rectify that situation.”

“Dirtbag.” She grinned, his chuckle vibrating into her chest. "Go get showered and warmed up. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

"Kiss first.” Steve muttered before he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. His lips were warm and despite herself, Katie leaned into his arms, her hands snaking up into his damp hair.

“Kissy!” Jamie giggled, and they broke apart to look at the tot who was sat on the floor clapping. “Kissy, kissy!”

“I’m gonna kill Emmy.” Steve muttered, and then he spotted Lucky expertly stealing the toast that Jamie had left on the highchair, before sidling out of the room with his precious treat. “And that damned dog.”

Katie laughed and gave him another peck on the cheek before Steve swept past his son, giving his hair a quick ruffle. She leaned back against the counter and smiled, before she sighed, her happy expression faltering a little. They’d had almost three years now of pretty much non-stop domestic bliss, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something surely had to come along at some point and turn it all upside down.

That was how things went for them, right?

“Mama!”

Her attention flew back to her son as he toddled over to her and held his arms up. “Hungry.” “Again?” Katie rolled her eyes as she picked him up.

“Yup.” He nodded emphatically.

Katie smiled, kissing his cheek, and moved him so he was perched on her hip. With one arm she placed more bread in the toaster and looked at her son, who smiled at her and pressed his lips to her cheek in a sloppy kiss.

“Love you.” He grinned and Katie beamed back at him, brushing his hair back.

“Love you too, Sweetheart.” And with that simple act, she managed to push those worries she had to the back of her mind, again, content to just enjoy what they had for as long as they had it.

**** Chapter 48 Part 1

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fic #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

55 notes · View notes

konglindorm · 3 years

Text

Lindworm: Chapter 1

(This is a little over half of the first chapter I had planned to share the whole thing, but then I realized it was 7,000 words. You can buy and read the rest of Lindworm here!)

“Thank you so much for thinking of me,” Marit said, “but really I would rather not marry a monster.”

Marit would not have thought herself the sort of person to talk back to kings, had she ever had cause to contemplate such matters. But then she never would have thought the king the sort of person to sacrifice a girl to a lindworm, and yet here she was, the third victim.

She was only seventeen, and this wedding was a death sentence.

Six months ago, Prince Harald had set out to find a bride, and had been stopped by a great serpent in the road. Since then, the serpent—the lindworm—had eaten two foreign princesses, both after a sham of a wedding. Both women had thought they were coming to marry Prince Harald.

Here, in the forest outside the capital city, rumors had flown. Rumors that they would shortly be at war with both kingdoms that had lost a princess, and rumors, more interesting to their small family with no members likely to be sent to the battlefield, of the lindworm, of why a man-eating dragon would be welcomed to the palace and fed. Rumors that said the lindworm was Prince Harald’s brother, that the king humored it instead of killing it because the monster was family.

Marit didn’t know how much truth there might be to such rumors. She didn’t know how a queen could bear and birth a serpent, but she did know the world was full of strange, incomprehensible things.

The king stared at her, his men standing stiffly by. It had not, of course, been thoughtfulness that led him to her cottage in the woods. Marit knew this, and knew that the marriage was not optional, and that one could not speak to a king in this manner and expect to keep one’s head. But when one has already been sentenced to death, such things as respect for royalty matter very little.

“It is not an offer,” the king informed her when he found his voice. “It is a command, and you may choose to obey or not, but willing or unwilling, you will find yourself before a priest in my great hall one week from now.”

One week, she thought. One week to live the rest of her life. She could run—could she run?

No, if the king was leaving her a few days to say her goodbyes, it was only because he knew she could not run. There would be guards posted. She would be caught and brought back. She would still end the week dead, and likely her father and sister, too, if the king suspected they had helped her. As they certainly would.

Her family—they were away from the house now, deeper into the woods, scavenging. There was little left to eat, their winter stores almost empty by March, and the ground still too frozen to begin the year’s planting. She had stayed behind to tend to the animals, too likely to slow them down after twisting her ankle yesterday, falling from a tree; it had barely hurt, and would be healed by tomorrow. The king would be long gone before they returned, and it would fall to her to explain her upcoming death.

“There will be a bride price, of course,” said the king.

Marit wasn’t quite sure what a bride price was, thought it may be like a dowry—she’d sewn items, slowly, over the last several years for her dowry, but doubted the lindworm would demand her linens as well as her life.

The king went on to explain the bride price, the amount of money her father would be given for this farce of a marriage—the opposite of a dowry, then, and a staggering amount.

It had been a long, brutal winter following a short, dry summer, and for that price Marit may have volunteered herself. Any number of young women may have; it was enough to save not only their own small farm, but those of a few near neighbors. Enough to buy a second goat, a few more chickens, enough to pay all of their debts in the city and have their broken tools repaired.

For such a sum, she would have volunteered. She would have gladly given her life to so dramatically improve the lives of her father and younger sister.

But the king had not asked. The king had demanded, and Marit knew she would resent him for however many days she had left to do so.

He left her, as she’d expected, with guards posted nearby, and she led the animals back to their shed and let herself back into the cottage, not wanting to look at them, their clean uniforms with shiny brass buttons, their polished boots slowly gathering mud, their faces as they avoided her eyes, because they knew, must know, that this was wrong, and yet they were loyal to their king, and would not let her run.

Marit watched through the back window, working idly on her knitting, unable to stay focused on the difficult stitch she’d meant to master this week, until she saw her sister and her father coming out from the woods. She ran to meet them, and hurried them inside before they could ask about the soldiers scattered about. And then she told them.

“Why you?” Greta cried. “Why you?”

She hadn’t asked how he’d chosen her, out of all the unwed maids within walking distance of the palace. She didn’t think she wanted to know why it was her that must die, and not Annette, who had no father to protect her, or Martine, who was more beautiful, or Signe or Gretchen or any of the other girls she knew.

She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to be the kind of person who wished death on her friends, either.

Besides, the lindworm had already eaten two women, and there was no reason to expect he might stop at a third. They may all be dead before this ended, Gretchen and Signe and Annette and Martine, and the younger girls, Greta and her friends, all the forest, all the city, someday all the kingdom sacrificed to satisfy the appetite of a monster that should have been killed the moment it showed itself to Prince Harald.

She could only hope that the fathers of the dead princesses would declare war, that they would kill her king and his lindworm with him before the whole country was devoured.

King Olaf had always been known as a kind and noble king. He’d lowered taxes and held festivals and been much loved, before these last six months, and Marit didn’t understand. She didn’t understand how a good king could become a bad one overnight because of one monster.

Maybe it was his son. Marit would throw the whole world over for Greta, she knew, but she’d been at Greta’s side since she’d emerged from their mother’s stomach, been the first to hold the new baby, tiny and wrinkled and red, getting blood all over her vest, as their father had said his goodbyes to Mama, only turning his attention to Marit and the new baby when his wife was gone.

For Greta, for her father, for Mama if she’d lived, Marit would do anything. But if a boar walked out of the woods and claimed to be her long lost brother, she wouldn’t take him at his word, wouldn’t escort him into the city to trample the blacksmith just because he asked her.

She didn’t think the king could hide a paternal relationship with a lindworm for several years. They must have met only when he stopped the prince on the road. And Marit didn’t understand.

She gathered Greta in her arms and listened to the younger girl cry, unable to shed any tears for herself, unsure why. She looked over Greta’s head at her father, and saw the same desperate sadness in his eyes that she had seen when she was five years old, and her mother was dying in childbirth. Her father loved her, but he could do nothing to save her, and they all knew it. He could not defy the king; to try would only make him angry, would likely risk Greta’s life too.

He came and wrapped himself around them both, and Marit thought, but was not quite sure, that he wept too. She sat, dry-eyed, between them, for long hours, until it was time for dinner and bed.

They watched out the window as a new group of soldiers marched in, and the first group left. At least they weren’t expected to feed and board their prison guards.

In the morning they found that the soldiers would let Marit go where she pleased, but one or two would always follow, from a respectful distance. No one followed her sister or father, so they went in three different directions, to the neighbors and to the city, Marit to make her farewells, and all of them to give warning. The king is feeding maidens to his lindworm. Marit is the first; she will not likely be the last. Send your daughters quietly to family in other cities, if you can. Marry them quickly to boys in the village, if you can. We do not know why the lindworm wants weddings, but he does, so make your daughters unweddable.

Gretchen, when Marit told her, said it probably had to do with a dragon’s fondness for virgins. She then said that if the king came to her, she would rid herself of virginity with the first man she could find before she would go to the lindworm, with the whole town to watch as proof, if necessary.

Gretchen’s older brother, the only other person there save the guards, too far away to overhear, made a sound of disapproval in the back of his throat, but said nothing.

Marit wondered if it was too late to try Gretchen’s plan for herself, and concluded it probably was—if the lindworm demanded a virgin, then the soldiers would not let her cease to be one. The small chance of success wasn’t worth giving herself to a man she didn’t want and wouldn’t be allowed to keep. And the kind of man who might cooperate with such a plan would likely not make it a happy experience to cherish in her final days. She reminded Gretchen of the soldiers before moving on to the next neighbors.

Marit spend her days wandering, mostly. There was work to be done, and she helped, or tried to—her father said not to trouble herself with anything in these last few days, and when she insisted, she often found herself too distracted to finish, or at least to finish well, haunted constantly by imaginings of what the lindworm might be like, how it might feel to be eaten. She remembered breaking a finger in a slamming door as a child, the sharp crack of it, the pain. She imagined the pain and the cracking both amplified as an enormous snake swallowed her whole, as snakes will do, and then, bizarrely, imagined cowering on a banquet table as the lindworm sliced her to pieces with a knife held in its tail, popping each slice into its mouth one at a time, sometimes dipping a slice in a butter-sauce first.

She still had not cried, though she had found herself several times laughing hysterically at humorless jokes she couldn’t explain. Greta didn’t need to know about the butter sauce.

When there were two days left before the wedding, she went out intending to collect eggs from the chickens, and her feet carried her, instead, deeper into the woods.

The guards followed at a distance.

Marit stopped when she saw an old woman ahead. She was short, with white hair spilling from her cap, bright and cheerful in a blue skirt and red vest, and she smiled like an old friend at Marit, and asked why she was so sad.

Marit wasn’t a fool. She knew how it was with mysterious old women in forests, knew they were to be respected. Knew how often they carried magic within themselves. Knew that to cross them was idiocy, and that to be kind and respectful could change the course of one’s life.

So Marit told the woman her troubles, and the woman smiled again. “It will be all right,” she said. “If you obey me, it will be all right. Now, here is what you must do.”

Marit wasn’t foolish enough to think she might live through this, but she wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the gift of a wise woman in the wood, either, even when that gift was the strangest advice she’d ever been given. Wear ten shifts beneath your dress, have milk and lye and whips waiting in your bedchamber.

She was already going to die; what did it matter if the king’s servants thought her a madwoman?

Ten shifts, though, would not be an easy thing to manage. Marit had two shifts, and two night shifts, which were wool instead of linen, with sleeves too wide to be hidden beneath her dress. She would have to rip them off. Greta owned the same, not much smaller as she was tall for her age, but Marit could not deprive her sister of all her undergarments, so only took one day shift and one night shift from her. That brought her to six, and four more yet to find. She couldn’t buy them; the king’s money wouldn’t come to her father until the day after the wedding. She had her dowry linens, unneeded now, and could use the fabric to make more shifts. But she had two days left to live, and wasn’t willing to spend her last precious moments sewing. With Greta’s help she converted one white bedsheet into a shift, but would sacrifice no more time when she had so many goodbyes to say—to friends, to livestock, to trees and streams and every future she had ever imagined for herself.

She begged one more shift from Olga, whose family was wealthier and who had one to spare for an acquaintance going to her death. Eight shifts, eight, two short, and no time to find more. It would have to be enough.

The morning she was to be taken away, Marit’s father pulled out her mother’s wedding dress and offered it to her.

Marit shook her head. “It should go to Greta. To a real wedding.”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” her father said. “Take it, so your mother can be with you, as Greta and I cannot.”

So Marit put on her eight shifts, and she put on the dress. She was a bit smaller than her mother had been when she married, and it still fit despite the extra layers. Greta had wanted to make her a crown of flowers to match, but there were still few flowers in bloom, so she wove the crown from evergreen branches instead, coating her hands in sap, and placed it carefully on her sister’s head.

The three of them waited, solemnly, for Marit to be taken away. There was nothing left to say. All of the goodbyes were finished, all of the plans made. The next morning someone would come from the palace with the bride price and whatever was left of Marit to be buried. Her father would sell the animals and the house, give them away if he couldn’t sell them fast enough, and he would hire a wagon to take them far, far from the capital, to start a new life where the lindworm would never touch Greta. They’d gone over the details last night. Greta had cried again.

Marit still hadn’t cried, and thought she might be able to, now, but would not let herself; she didn’t want her tears seen by whoever took her away. She found she was more angry than sad. She felt a sharpness growing within her. Her life was forfeit, and so too was her sense of obligation to respect, to loyalty. The king, the queen, the prince, the priests who’d performed the weddings and the soldiers and couriers who’d stood by—damn them, she thought, damn them all, and damn the idea she owed them the barest amount of anything.

The king came to fetch her himself, and she refrained from spitting in his face only because of the guards that surrounded him, the fear they might kill her where she stood and cost her father the bride price.

The king was different, not angry and demanding as he had been a week ago, but stiff with an awkwardness that might almost be shame. Marit hugged her father and Greta one last time, and followed him back toward the city, his guards forming a circle around them. She didn’t care that he may feel shame; she had enough anger by now for the both of them.

He was quiet, and Marit didn’t want quiet. Not quite understanding the compulsion, she found herself goading him.

“What will happen after this?” she asked, and the king looked at her, then quickly away again. It was a long walk on foot, and she didn’t know why a king wouldn’t take a carriage, but she didn’t mind the extra time in her forest.

“You will be prepared for the wedding by lady’s maids. The wedding will be in the great hall, and after that we will have a banquet.”

“Not tonight,” Marit said, spurred by the thought of Annette being sent hundreds of miles away to an uncle she’d never met, of Gretchen searching for a man to defile her rather than be eaten. “Not to me. What will happen to your kingdom? After me, you’ll kill off every maid in the country, and then I suppose you’ll have to go to war, and find slaves to feed his appetite? Discipline is important for growing boys, Your Majesty. Learn to say no to your son.”

He raised a hand as if to slap her, and she tilted her chin forward, daring him—let him hit her, here surrounded by a small army, let all these soldiers, already uneasy with their roles, go home and report to their friends and families that their king was a man who struck defenseless maidens.

He lowered his hand, leaving Marit oddly disappointed. It would have been another reason to be angry, and her anger was protecting her from her fear.

The king sighed heavily. “We all do foolish things for our children.”

She wondered if he meant the lindworm, or only Prince Harald, who could not be married until it was satisfied. It didn’t matter—the result was the same for her.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said, suddenly exhausted. Maybe a king could afford to do foolish things for his children. Her own father had to be sensible—foolishness would only have hurt Greta. She felt the anger draining away, the fear rising up again. She didn’t want to die.

They arrived at the palace from a side gate, not taking the wide, paved road beneath the cherry trees, where any number of people might have seen their arrival. The king and his soldiers handed her off to a large group of women, some more elegant than others, and she asked him, before he left, what time the wedding would be.

“At eight o’clock,” he said. “Will that give you enough time to prepare?” One of the more elegant women assured him it would, and he told her, “Give the girl whatever she wants. It’s her wedding day, after all.” He laughed, unamused, more bitter than cruel, and then he was gone.

“Is there anything special we can do for you, miss?” asked one of the plainer women, who was likely a maid.

Marit thought of the old woman in the forest. “This is going to sound a little strange.”

All of the more plainly dressed women left to carry out her last request, leaving Marit with a flock of beautiful women whose most simple everyday clothes were likely ten times more expensive than her mother’s wedding dress. They tried to have her out of it, into borrowed silks instead, but she refused. It was the last gift from her father, the only familiar thing in this place. She kept her evergreen crown as well, but let them take it away long enough to clean away the sap, rubbing it from the branches and brushing it out of her hair.

They re-braided her hair into a more elaborate style, stringing in gemstones to match her dress, and applied powders and creams to her face, which itched and made her sneeze. She watched them carefully, picking out one who seemed both kind and fancy enough to know little of a peasant’s daily life. She drew her away from the crowd and explained, in a whisper, “I haven’t any underthings. I only own the one shift, and I left it for my sister, so she would have one to wear on laundry day. I didn’t think it would matter, when I’m only to die tonight, but I’m—I’m embarrassed to have all these fine people watching me, thinking that if the light hits just so they’ll see I’m not dressed properly.”

The woman believed, somehow, that a peasant girl might have come to a royal wedding with no undergarments, and offered to find a spare shift.

“Could I have two, please?” The woman raised her eyebrows, and Marit ducked her head. “It’s a tradition—I know it shan’t be a real wedding night, but it’s a tradition to make the groom work a little harder the first time.”

The woman believed the tradition she’d never heard of, as well, and came back shortly with two more shifts, beautiful, silken things, bringing Marit to the required ten.

The next problem came when she realized the women had no intention of leaving her alone while she took off her wedding dress and put on the shifts, which was awkward for more reasons than the eight shifts she already wore. She explained that she was not accustomed to being seen undressed by strangers, and finally they left her, for the first moment of privacy she’d had in hours, and the last she expected to have in her life.

She took off the dress and put on the shifts. She paused to look in the mirror—a thing she’d heard of but never before seen—and wondered if that was what she truly looked like, or only the effect of the powders and creams. She pulled the dress back on, took a few deep breaths—she had not cried yet, she would not cry now—and reopened the door so that the women could help re-fasten the dress in the back.

They set the evergreen crown back on her head, and took her to the priest that would read her last rites.

The hall where they held the wedding was gorgeous, with shining wood floors and dark walls covered in rosemåling, blue and gold and red. All the court was seated when she arrived, dressed in their finest clothes, looking horrified. She recognized the king and the queen and the prince, familiar from a dozen parades, sitting in the front row. The rest were strangers.

And then she saw the lindworm.

It was the height of six or seven men, white like a maggot, or the mold on stale bread. It had dark wings on its back, too small to hold its weight in flight, and shiny white fangs quite visible even when its mouth was shut. It had no legs. There was a crown balanced at the top of its head, the size a man would wear, which might have been funny if it hadn’t planned to eat her.

It was staring at her with an expression of mild curiosity, recognizable because its eyes were the eyes of a man, over-large, but still small in its serpent head, the same shade of blue as a dozen young men she’d seen in the city.

#lindworm #fairy tales #folklore #Fairy tale retellings #new release #my book #it's almost here #two days #prince lindworm #king lindworm #king lindorm #kong lindorm #wax heart press

32 notes · View notes

multiplefandomfics · 3 years

Text

Relations 2.0

So guys, this is kinda an alternative to Relations I posted yesterday. This time with a Rogers! Reader. I hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, violence, trauma, nightmares, PTSD, unprotected smut, alzheimers, kinda AU

Words: 3702

"How is she today?" you asked your cousin.

"Not much changed. I'm just happy she remembers us." She answered.

"Did she tell you something new?"

"No, not really. You want to go in now?"

"Yes, I don't know but it always makes me happy to see her. No matter what state she's in." You smiled at her.

Peggy was your fathers mother and you loved her. She had taught you and Sharon how to be brave and independent women.

"Hello grandma. How are you doing today?" You sat down next to her.

"Oh, how nice of you to visit me, my dear." She smiled at you. "I slept very well. How was your day?" Peggy might have an illness which ate away at her memories but she was the most courteous person on the planet.

“Oh, you know just as always. S.H.I.E.L.D is definitely keeping me on my feet.” you smiled at her.

“Yes, yes, I can imagine.” she took your hand.

You talked a bit more and listened to stories you had heard a 1000 times before but still enjoyed seeing your grandma so happy.

Then your phone rang.

“Agent Carter? We need you at the facility immediately.”

“I’ll be right there.” you answered.

“Grandma, I’m sorry I gotta go. Duty calls. I'll come back as soon as I can, I promise.” you kissed her on the forehead before you left.

“Good that you are here. We have found something incredible way up north embedded in ice.” Agent Coulson told you and handed you a file.

When you opened it up and saw the pictures you gasped loudly and had the urge to sit down.

The photographs showed your grandfather, frozen in uniform and with the shield. You recognized him immediately.

“Y/N are you alright?” Coulson asked.

The problem was that no one knew your family history. Peggy had kept quiet about her unplanned pregnancy and the whereabouts of the father. She had gotten married while still pregnant and in those times no one questioned that the baby was way early.

“Yes, no, I mean… I don’t know. I can’t believe you found him. Now the nation can finally bury their fallen hero.” you mumbled.

“Oh, you must have misunderstood. Captain Rogers isn’t dead. He’s in recovery.” Coulson explained.

“What? How is that possible?”

“Well the ice must have preserved him and the serum in his veins kept him alive.”

Not even a second later rang Coulson’s phone. An Agent called from Times Square. Steve Rogers had woken up and figured out that something was not right so he escaped the room where he was supposed to recover.

“I need to talk to him. I think I will be able to calm him. This must be awful for him.” you begged Coulson.

“Alright, let’s go. Times Square is just around the corner.” you jumped into your car and drove speeding down the streets of New York.

When you arrived Director Fury had already kinda calmed Steve so you walked over to him.

Nick Fury was the only person in the world outside your family who knew your family's secret. So he didn’t hesitate to let you through.

“Captain Rogers? Would you care to come with me? I'd like to explain everything to you.” you smiled at him.

“Peggy? he asked, astonished. You had never seen too much resemblance between your grandma and yourself but apparently Steve saw it.

“Close. But no. MY name is Y/N Carter. I’m her granddaughter. We have a lot of catching up to do. Want to join me?” he just nodded and followed you.

You drove in silence with about 5 bulletproof dark SUVs following you at close range.

You stopped in front of a S.H.I.E.L.D office and walked inside.

When you closed the door to your office behind you and him the reality of it all finally started to seep into your bones and you started shaking.

He noticed immediately and stepped closer. Ever the gentleman of the 40’s that he was, he asked if you were okay.

“Well there is so much I want to tell you. Actually, I have since I was a child. And I never thought I’d ever get the chance to nor did I think it was my place to tell you. But…” you kept rambling.

“What are you talking about?” he looked confused.

“Okay, here we go. All or nothing.” you mumbled to yourself.

“Peggy is my grandmother, and you are my grandfather.” you finished quietly.

“Excuse me?” he thought he might have misheard you.

“Just after you supposedly died Grandma Peggy found out that she was pregnant. She always said it was a drunken night after Sergeant Barnes died? It’s a secret which almost no one outside of the family knows. I would have let Peggy tell you herself but she has alzheimers and a lot of the time she is not really there anymore.” you explained to him.

“Peggy is still alive? I need to see her.” he picked up on your story.

“But first I’d like to hug my granddaughter if that’s alright by you.” he grinned.

“Ehm, yes sure.” you outstretched your arms and he embraced you. You had never felt so safe in anyone's arms before.

Before anyone could argue with you you had taken Steve to see Peggy in her retirement facility.

“Steve? You’re alive?” she asked in disbelief when she spotted him by her bed. He grinned and bent down to kiss her on the forehead.

“Yes, my love. And I missed you so much. How is my girl today?” he asked her.

“I was never better. Y/N come here darling. Meet your grandfather sweetie.” she spoke slowly in that posh british accent of hers.

“I already have nana and he is just as amazing as you have always told me.” you said while tears were forming in your eyes.

After that conversation you left them alone for a while to talk.

The next few weeks no day passed without you spending time with Steve. Unfortunately you had no contact with your mom or dad anymore. They didn’t want anything to do with you anymore after you had decided on your S.H.I.E.L.D career path.

That had been years ago and you weren’t sad anymore but now you would have wished, for Steve's sake, that he could meet his son.

Maybe someday your dad would be ready for this.

Somehow it came as it had to. People found out about your relation to Captain America and started to bother you immensely.

Then came the point on which it couldn't get any worse.

You came home after a long day of work and just wanted to relax in a bubble bath and then go to bed. But it came differently than you thought.

The moment you opened your door and turned around to shut it an arm closed around your throat and another grabbed for your holstered gun. Your assailant was too strong for you to overpower. You lost consciousness quickly.

When you awoke you were chained to a chair, gagged too.

And then you saw him. Sitting in a corner opposite you. Long dark hair, black mask and tac gear. His left arm was made of metal and wirred when he moved it.

When he noticed you had woken up he stood and walked over to you,

He didn’t say a word and you couldn’t. Otherwise you would have given him a piece of your mind.

You didn’t expect his next move. He took the gag from your mouth and pushed a bottle of water against your lips. You drank greedily because you hadn’t noticed your parched throat before.

“What do you want from me?” you asked after he had taken the bottle away.

“Leverage.” was all he said.

“Are you working for hydra?” you asked. You had had your suspicions for a long time that the agency had been operating from the underground.

He stayed silent and then you felt your mind slip. Of course something must have been in the water.

The next time you came to you heard voices around you but couldn’t focus at first.

When you finally could concentrate you recognized voices you had suspected of being evil before. Alexander Pierce and Brock Rumlow. Idiots! you thought.

“Ah, there she is. Did the soldier take good care of you?” Pierce mocked and you spat at him which earned you a nice backhand to the face from Rumlow.

“Now that we have that out of the way, let us proceed with our plan, shall we?.”

God, how much you hated that douchebag!

They took a video from you probably as leverage. Just as their soldier had told you. What they wanted to blackmail from S.H.I.E.L.D or Steve, you didn’t know.

After they had everything from you they brought you to a room which strongly resembled the cell in an asylum. Thick padded walls you couldn’t hurt yourself on, a small field bed with a blanket and a toilet with a sink in one corner behind a milky screen.

You banged against the walls and door at first to get any kind of attention but after receiving none you decided to leave it be and save your strength.

Hours later a doctor came into the room to take a blood sample from you but you wouldn’t have that so you fought against him until they brought the soldier in to hold you down. That was the first time you saw him after he kidnapped you. And this time he wasn’t wearing a mask. His face was expressionless and his hair was longer than on the pictures you had seen at the museum but the man standing in front of you was undeniably James Barnes. Your grandfather's best friend since childhood who you had believed was dead since 1943.

“Bucky?” you asked and he gave you a confused look. At first you doubted your eyes but you were so sure it was him. “What did you do to him? He is a good man!” you yelled at the doctor who just smiled at you maliciously.

Still struggling in Bucky’s hold the doc took a sample of your blood and they left but not before Bucky threw you one last thoughtful glance.

Days ticked by and nothing happened. You saw someone bring you food twice a day but that was about all the human contact you were given.

You couldn’t stop thinking about your granddad’s best pal being enslaved and obviously brainwashed for God knows how long. It made you so sad to think about his past. What he must have endured in hydra’s grasp.

Then one night suddenly the light in your room changed and you noticed the cause being that the door had been opened. You decided that that was your only chance and snuck out of the room. You tried to find orientation points in the weird and long hallways. But you noticed every time you didn’t know where to go, a door opened somewhere.

Just for a second you contemplated if this might have been a sick trap but you still followed it because, what did you have to lose?

When you stepped through the last door you heard someone call your name.

“Y/N! Over here!” Not 10 meters away from you stood Steve in full gear.

“Steve! Thank God you found me. Did you open all these doors?”

“Doors? What? No. I haven’t even been inside yet.” he looked at you as if you had lost your mind.

“Then who paved the way for me?” you thought out loud. Until it suddenly hit you. “Bucky!” you yelled.

“What? Are you alright? Bucky has been dead for decades.” Steve informed you.

“No you don’t understand. He is here. He must have been the one to help me. We have to find him.” you turned around and ran back inside faster than Steve could grab you.

“Y/N no!” he yelled and ran after you.

Suddenly you stopped dead in your tracks and Steve almost ran you over. 5 meters in front of you stood a dark figure, not moving a muscle.

“Bucky?” you called lowly.

Steve tensed up behind you. He too had recognized his old pal.

“Buck?” He whispered, shocked.

“Come on Bucky. We have to get out of here. And thank you for helping me.” you smiled and stretched your arm out.

He took the invitation and slowly walked towards you. Together you got out of the building and headed toward the pickup spot where the jet waited.

Bucky had still not said a word. While Steve flew the plane you sat down next to Bucky who seemed lost in thought. He didn’t notice you sliding into the seat next to him until you laid your hand on his thigh. “Buck? How do you feel?”

“Confused. I can’t believe that I am not under their control anymore.” he said.

“You are safe now. I promise we will take care of you. S.H.I.E.L.D will help you get back on your feet. You are a hero.”

“No, not S.H.I.E.L.D. They have been infiltrated by hydra. You saw Pierce and Rumlow. We can’t trust anyone.” he yelled, almost panicked.

“You are right. Steve, where are we headed?” you called out to your pilot for the moment.

“I was about to get us to Washington D.C.. S.H.I.E.L.D HQ. But now that I heard what you said I think it might be best to find a different place. So Y/N where to? Do you have a plan b?”

“In fact I do. Keep going, I'll send the coordinates right to you.” you ordered.

3 hours later you landed at a farm.

“Clint. It’s good to see you.” you said and wrapped the archer in a tight hug.

“How is the family?” you tried to make conversation.

“Good as always. So what’s the deal with this?” he asked back.

“Well, you know Captain Rogers and this is Sergeant James Barnes. It’s a long story but we need a place to lay low for a while that S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t know about.”

“Ah, so you thought of me. Naturally. Alright, come on in, dinner should be ready soon and Laura always makes too much.”

Dinner had been great and now you were sitting on the porch with a glass of wine just relaxing and telling Clint everything. You trusted him with all your heart. Him, Natasha Romanoff and Nick Fury.

“So S.H.I.E.L.D is hydra now?” he asked, confused.

“Well yes but it seems hydra was always sleeping just under the surface waiting for the right moment to strike.” you clarified.

“So what do you intend to do next?” he asked again.

“Well, I have already sent an encrypted message to Nick Fury. He will know how to proceed from her on. Then we need to grab hydra by the roots and pull them out. If that doesn’t work we need all the help we can get to take down everything. S.H.I.E.L.D, hydra, all of it.” you described.

“Buck, what can you tell us about their plan?”

Bucky took a deep breath and started to recite everything that he knew or had gathered. Good thing that no one had actually thought to mind their words around him because they always thought he couldn’t do anything with that knowledge anyways.

“So they want to erase millions of people who do not follow their ideology? And they want to use helicarriers with active weapon systems?” you summarized Bucky’s information. “We have to stop this! But we need a solid plan. I suggest we wait for a message from Fury. He might know what to do.” you proposed.

“I agree. If we run in there unprepared people might die.” Steve approved.

So you had not much more to do than wait.

That evening you tried to fall asleep in the guest bedroom but that was almost impossible. You had listened to Steve leaving the house to go for a run about 30 minutes before. So he couldn’t sleep either.

Then, just before sleep invaded your mind you heard noises which sounded like whimpering so you got up quickly and walked downstairs, gun raised.

You found out fast that the noise came from a restlessly sleeping Bucky on the much too small couch.

Worried that he might be distressed and would fall back into his old habits you sat down next to the couch stroking hair out of his face. “Bucky? You’re okay. You’re safe now.” you whispered. He opened his eyes and looked at you.

You didn’t expect him to lean in close and brush his lips to yours.

He pulled back abruptly when he noticed you being completely taken by surprise. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that.” he sat up and buried his face in his hands.

“No, it’s okay Bucky. I understand you. It wasn’t that I didn’t want it, I just wasn’t expecting that.” he looked up hesitantly.

“In fact I wouldn’t mind you doing it again.” you smiled at him mischievously.

Without saying another word he pulled you in again. You climbed into his lap all while never breaking the kiss. Until you had to come up for air.

“Wow, you really know how to do that.” you stated.

“Did you want to go further?” you asked him carefully.

“I wouldn’t mind. I just wanna feel something nice again.” he confessed before pulling you in for a kiss again.

You made out like that for a while, grinding on each other like some horny teenagers. Until his hand slipped into your panties stroking your mound and you started mewling like a kitten in heat.

Your hands fumbled clumsily with his boxers and he helped you push them down enough for his cock to spring free.

Pulling your panties to the side you sunk down on him. This time the sex was not about sensuality it was supposed to be quick comfort. The emotional crap could come later.

You rose onto your knees and dropped back onto his generous length.

“Fuck!” you breathed out. Burying your head in his shoulder so you wouldn’t wake anyone still sleeping.

You were so deeply immersed in your lovemaking you didn’t hear the door open.

“Really? On the couch? Seriously?” you almost jumped off of Bucky at the sound of your grandfather’s hushed voice.

“I’m sorry Steve.” Bucky whispered. And you could tell he was more than close so you kept rocking back and forth on his lap. Steve, noticing that you wouldn’t stop, just turned around and went upstairs with the words “I’ll sleep in your bed then.”

Once he was gone you were finally able to lose yourself in Bucky again.

It didn’t take long for him to reach his high and the moment you felt him shoot his load inside you you couldn’t hold on anymore and the knot burst.

You dropped onto the seat next to Bucky, catching your breath.

“Thank you for that.” he leaned his head back and tucked himself back into his pants.

“No need to thank me. I really like you Buck and I hope that this won’t be a one time thing.” you smiled at him hopefully.

“So do I, but I don’t know if I am good enough for you. I’ve done so much evil in my life. You deserve so much better.” Suddenly he looked so sad again.

“Hey. Look at me Bucky!” you ordered him, grabbing for his face. “What happened to you is not your fault. You were trapped in your own body and you deserve the world. Never think any less of yourself because of your past! You are the reason I am free now. You have saved Steve’s ass more than he probably knows. We love you Bucky and I mean that. You know that my grandma did not only talk a lot about Steve but about you too? You left such an impression on her that even now in her alzheimer ridden mind she still sometimes talks about you. What a gentleman you always were. Handsome, sweet and clever. And I could not dream of someone better than you.” You kissed him deeply with all the emotion you could muster and hoped he would understand.

“Are you sure?” his insecurities were killing you. Peggy had always mentioned the ladies man that he had been but that lay 70 years behind and it broke your heart to see him like this.

“100% sure darling. Now let’s try to catch at least a few more hours of sleep until sunrise.” another kiss later and you had cuddled together on the still too small couch. This time you fell asleep quickly and felt safe by his side.

Two days later Fury had gotten you a plan. Maria Hill would meet you in a sewer system at the edge of D.C. She handed you three computer chips to override the helicarriers weapon systems manually.

The people from hydra, working inside S.H.I.E.L.D did not expect this attack just when project inside was about to launch.

So when the helicarriers had come crashing down on D.C. and every single hydra agent had been taken in custody was it finally time to calm down and get everything in order.

Facing the facts Bucky still needed therapy and someone to look over his conditioning and the damage hydra had done to him. But you were sure to find someone with a solution somewhere. Until then you tried to get used to having a 100 something year old grandfather and his just as old best friend for a boyfriend.

You didn’t know where you were headed but you liked the thought of finding out.

#marvel #buckyxreader #y/n #the avengers #mcu #sebastian stan #fanfic #au #smut #fluff #angst

8 notes · View notes

prettyyboyspence · 4 years

Text

World’s Best Dad

Warnings: fluff, swearing

Word Count: 2.3k

Spencer Reid loved his job. Going out on cases and catching bad guys. It’s what he did best.

But when Spencer Reid met you, things changed.

He wanted to be there for you. He held back and was more careful. He thought through his decisions before he made them and then made the safest decision possible. All so he could come back home to you.

He wanted you to be in his life forever, which is why he married you two years ago. Married life has been great for the two of you and you both have never been happier.

Except for the day you told Spencer you were pregnant. That was, as of right now, the happiest day of your life.

“Hey, I’m home,” Spencer said as he walked into the apartment.

“Hi, baby, how was your case? Catch the bad guy?” You said with a teasing voice as you stirred the spaghetti you were making the two of you for dinner.

“It was alright,” he sighed as he took a seat at the kitchen table and set his head in his hands.

You frowned at him as you looked over, “was it kids?” Cases about kids always made the whole team in a gloomy mood. It’s never nice when kids are being taken from their homes and possibly killed.

He nodded, staying quiet. He had nothing to say. He really didn’t want to talk about it.

“Well, I got you a present, today, while I was out. The bag on the table. I saw it and it made me think of you.”

He looked up at you but you kept your back to him to hide your smile. He grabs the Target bag and pulls it towards himself, taking out the box.

You spun around when his attention was fully on the present and smiled at him. He opened the box and pulled out his new mug.

“It’s a coffee mug, y/n.” He said, unimpressed, as he looked at you.

“Turn it around. Read it, babe,” you said with a smile.

He spun the mug around and read it. And then read it again.

World’s best dad.

“I— world's best dad? Are you— are we… pregnant?” He said as he slowly got up from his seat, a smile was creeping onto his face.

You put your hand over your stomach with a smile, “I went to the doctor yesterday, I’m six weeks pregnant.”

“Oh my god!” He said with a laugh as he ran up and gave you a hug. “Oh my god! We’re gonna have a kid! A real child! Oh my god, I’m gonna be a dad.” He picked you up and spun you around as you held him tight.

“You’re gonna be a dad,” you said and kissed the top of his head.

That almost seven months ago. Now you look like you’re about to pop. Spencer didn’t wanna go on cases now, not when you could go into labor at any minute. But your due date was in two weeks, he had time.

As Spencer walks onto the jet and takes a seat, he pulls out his phone to call you. He always calls when he steps on and off the jet, to let you know he’s safe and to check up on you.

“Hello, my love, how are you?” You answer the phone. He can hear the smile on your face.

“I’m good, getting back on the jet now. How are you? How’s the baby?”

“Me and the little peanut are fine. We are having dino nuggets for dinner,” you say as you pull the chicken nuggets out of the oven.

“Dino nuggets?” Spencer asks with a laugh.

“Yes, stop judging me. I’m carrying your child and I want dino nuggets, leave me be!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Thank you for carrying my child and feeding him or her dino nuggets.” Spencer says causing the rest of the team to laugh, overhearing his conversation.

The BAU loves seeing you two together and there is no group of people happier that you guys are having a child. They love Spencer, he has always been the baby of the BAU and they’ve always been a little extra protective over him.

They were skeptical when Spencer first told them about you. They didn’t want anyone to hurt him. But when they met you, they knew that you two would get married and be together forever. You were absolutely perfect for him. You listen to his random genius rants and actually ask questions instead of dismissing him. He trusted you and that was enough for the rest of the team to trust you too.

Also, you brought a nice bottle of wine.

“Thank you for this judgment-free zo— uh oh.”

“Uh oh? What’s uh oh?” Spencer says into the phone, holding the attention of his teammates.

“Uhh, how long did you say it would be until you got home?” You say with a soft voice. Spencer can tell something is wrong.

“Y/n, I’ll be home in like two hours probably. Now, what’s uh oh?”

“My water just broke.”

Spencer's jaw dropped as he froze, “wha- what do you mean? I’m not home. What do you mean your water broke?”

The rest of the team gives Spencer a shocked face as Hotch gets up and walks towards the front of the jet. Probably to tell the pilot that he needs to go as fast as fucking possible.

“I thought you were a genius, Spence. I mean my water broke. I mean I’m about to have a fucking child and you’re in the middle of the air two goddamn hours away.” At this point, you are slightly panicking.

You and Spencer had talked about this moment. How he would drive you to the hospital while holding your hand through the contractions. But he wasn’t here. He couldn’t drive you. You’re on your own for now.

“Okay, alright. Calm down. It’s gonna be fine,” Spencer says even though he is also panicking. “Just stay on the phone with me, baby, okay?”

He takes his head away from the phone for a second, “JJ, can you call an ambulance to my house, please? And can someone tell Garcia? She’s the only one in DC.”

JJ nods and Derek says he’ll take care of Penelope.

“Okay, love. JJ is calling you an ambulance and Derek is calling Penelope, she’ll meet you at the hospital, okay? I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, Spencer. Oh, god. Ow! Fuck, I think I’m having a contraction. Wow, this hurts like a mother fucker,” you curse as you walk back to your shared bedroom and start grabbing some clothes. You figure you could be in the hospital for a few days so some clothes wouldn’t hurt. You throw Spencer an extra outfit in too just in case.

“Okay, you’re okay. I know it hurts but you’ll be okay.” Spencer coos into the phone. He hates this. There is nothing he can do, he can’t take your pain away, he can’t even hold your hand through it.

You have two more contractions before the ambulance gets to your house. They’re 8 minutes apart, Spencer timed them and made you tell the paramedics.

You eventually hang up the phone with your beloved husband and get into the ambulance. When you’re on route to the hospital he texts you to let you know Garcia is there and waiting for you. It calms you down to know you’ll at least have someone there that you know to hold your hand.

When Spencer finally gets to the hospital you are only 7 centimeters dilated and you are mid contraction.

“Y/n! Hi!” He says running into the room to see Garcia holding your hand as you scream in pain, “I’m here, baby,” he rushes to your bed and grabs your hand which you immediately squeeze.

“You! You did this to me, you bitch!” You groan out in pain, “holy fuck, ow!” It causes the other nurses to laugh as you blame your husband for your pain but it only causes him to frown.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Spencer says as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. “But we’re gonna be parents baby,” he grins.

“Yeah, you can smile because you don’t have to push a watermelon-sized baby out of you!”

“Well actually, babies are often compared to—“

“If you finish that sentence, Spencer Reid, I’m going to kill you and this baby will be an orphan because I’ll be in jail and you’ll be dead!”

This continues for another 3 centimeters until you are fully dilated and ready to push. Spencer really is the best husband, even if you keep yelling at him. He holds your hand the entire time, through every contraction. He keeps telling you that he’s so lucky to have you and how you are going to be the best mom in the entire world. You would not have been able to do this without him.

Spencer runs out into the waiting room to see his whole team sitting there. They all look up at him with questioning faces. Is everything okay? Did you have the baby?

“It’s a boy!” Spencer cries, “I have a son!”

Everyone cheers as they pull him into hugs and kiss the top of his head.

“When do we get to meet the little bugger?” Derek asks the new father.

“Now, if you want,” he answers.

“Of course, we want. I can’t believe our boy wonder is a father.” Garcia squeals as she pulls him into another hug.

Spencer grins as he leads the team down the hallway and into your room. You look up at them with tired, yet happy, eyes. They all smile at you and the little baby in your arms.

Your husband reclaims his spot right next to your bed as he looks down at you with a smile and takes his son out of your arms.

“Guys,” Spencer starts, “meet Atticus Morgan Reid.”

Derek gasps as he hears the middle name. He looks between you and Spencer with a grin, “are you guys serious?”

You both nod, “of course we are,” you say.

Derek Morgan was practically Spencer's older brother and since you had met him you felt the same way. You knew he would do anything for either of you and although they just met, he would also do anything to protect your baby. Derek Morgan was an amazing person and definitely a good person to name your child after.

The entire team takes their turn holding Atticus and telling you and Spencer how cute he is. You both can’t help but agree because he is the cutest baby either of you has ever seen.

Atticus is in JJ’s arms as he begins to cry. Spencer gasps, clearly scared, as he looks at you.

“What- what do we do?” He asks you, concerned for his son.

“Give him to me, Spence,” you chuckle as you watch your husband take your son from his best friend and hand him to you.

“We’ll leave you be,” Emily says as she drags the rest of the team out of your hospital room.

You hold Atticus, cradling his head, as you look up at Spencer. “See, baby,” you say to your husband as you begin to rock your son and his cries calm down, “you just gotta stay calm and he’ll stay calm.”

He takes a seat next to you on your bed, “I can’t believe we’re parents. I’m a dad.”

“You’re a dad, baby. You’re gonna be a great dad, okay, Spence? Worlds best.”

He nods, “yeah. Yeah. And you’re gonna be a great mom.”

“We are going to be great parents to this little peanut,” you say as you look down at your now, sleeping son.

He hasn’t been crying a lot and when he does he's easy to calm down and you’re grateful for it. You know Spencer is worried about being a dad. His dad never taught him how to be one, she has no idea how to be there for him.

But, honestly, neither do you. No one is taught how to be a parent, it’s just something you learn along the way. And if Spencer is good at anything, it’s learning.

He takes Atticus into his arms and lays him down in the crib the hospital brought into your room. He smiles down at the little guy before pressing a kiss to his forehead and whispering a “goodnight, buddy.”

You hold your arms out for him to come to your bed. When he turns around and sees you he smiles as he takes a seat back in your bed and lays down with you.

You turn towards him and lay your head on his chest, “I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you, too.” He says with a kiss on your head as you both fall asleep from a very exhausting day.

#Spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #criminal minds #Spencer Reid fluff #Spencer Reid masterlist #Spencer Reid smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #Spencer Reid with kids #dad!spencer #dad!spencerreid

395 notes · View notes

everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

WE ARE A TEAM

Angel Reyes x Reader

Author comments: This work was one of my first requests, and I wrote only two chapters, but I always thought that it needed an ending. So, here it is, two months later. This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @angels-reyes.

@ifoundmyhappythought asked: Angel falling for a girl who’s pregnant (father didn’t want anything to do with a baby) and her being hesitant to get involved with him because she couldn’t believe anyone would want to her with all the “baggage” she comes with. Would want her with all the baggage she comes with** but angel doesn’t care he’s so enamored with her and is excited to be a dad 😭🥰

Word Count: 2.7k

Chapter one: here.

Chapter two: here.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @sesamepancakes ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

It's almost break time, when the Principal knocks the door, coming into the classroom. He looks confused, walking towards the teacher to whisper something on her ear. Then, he leaves without any more words.

“Laura”.

The girl with black long hair raises her eyes from the textbook.

“You have a visit. Please, go to the Secretary”.

Surprised, the sixteen years old quickly gets up to run out of the class, jittery thinking that something bad happened. She moves her legs faster than never, crossing the long hallways, dodging other students. She can barely breathe when she reaches it, coming in without calling. There's no Mayan inside, but a middle-aged man sitting on a couch. He stares at the girl, visibly nervous, holding something that looks like a photography.

“Who are you?”

“Hi…” He just says, getting up and taking some steps close to Laura. “I am a… a… friend of your… mother”.

“Is she okay? Something hap—”.

“No, no, no. Keep calm, she's okay”. He raises a hand with the intention to reassure her, before hesitating offering the picture.

“What's that?” She asks grabbing it to have a look.

Laura can see you being hugged by the man in front of her, but she doesn't understand what is going on. So she just stays quiet, waiting for an explanation.

“I am… I am your father, Laura”.

For a moment, she's about to laugh thinking that it's a joke of a hidden camera, until she realizes that it's not. That he's telling her the truth, by the gesture on his face. Hardly swallowing, she takes a step backward.

“I acted like a coward… I went to see you when you were born, but… those barbarians… those ‘Mayans’ didn't let me see you. And I'm sorry if it took me so long, to come back. I have no excuses. But I'm here and… I want to meet you”.

The world is falling down into pieces. There's a knot inside her chest that doesn't let her breathe as she should doing it. Laura steps out of the Secretary, leaving her stuff there. Leaving the high school. She's running without no destination and her eyes filled with tears. In one second, her life has collapsed. With only one sentence. With only four words. Knowing that everything was a lie hurts more than knowing that her true father abandoned her. Then, who is Angel Reyes?

— Three hours missing —

You stop dead the engine of your car, jumping out of it to cross the front yard of the clubhouse. The crew is reunited inside the Templo and you don't give a fuck about what they're talking about. Your husband looks at you confused, seeing the tears running down your cheeks like an uncontrollably storm. The guys quickly get up from their chair, worried, making questions that you can't answer till your husband holds you.

“Mi amor, what happens? Why are you crying?”

“Laura… La—Laura”.

“What happened, (Y/N)? Please, talk!”

“She has disappeared”.

“What the fuck…?” Ezekiel asks coming closer.

“I went to pick her up from school. And the Principal to—told me that… a man went to… to see her”.

You can't help but break into a loud cry, shaking under Angel's arms. He can't talk. He knows what it means. Everybody in that room know what it means. And they don't need a single word to know what they have to do, leaving the Templo sooner as their legs can run to their bikes.

“Ple—Please, Angel… Find our daughter… Please… I beg you”.

“I will, mi amor. I will… You stay here, okay? Maybe sh—she will come to the club”. He cups your face in his hands, kissing your lips for a second. “Look at me, mi amor, look at me… We will find her. Everything is gonna be okay”.

— Four and a half hours missing —

In less than one hour, the whole Cali is looking for Laura. Mayans, Sons of Anarchy, Hell's Wolves, Galindo Cartel… Even some contacts inside the DEA. There's no place in the coast, nor in the border, nor in Mexico that don't have someone looking for your daughter. But while you're calling all her contacts, and her phone off every two minutes, she's missing.

When Nestor calls Angel to tell him that Miguel has Matt under his possession, the oldest Reyes acts faster than never. He rides, followed by the crew, close to the border with Santa Madre; throwing his bike to the ground without caring about the scratches, running into the house. Miguel stops him with both hands on his chest, or he knows what would happen.

“Hey, hey, brother! Listen!”

“Where is that motherfucker?! I'm gonna fuckin' kill him!”

“Listen to me, Angel! He doesn't know where's Laura. He went to see her and gave her a picture with (Y/N)”.

“Let me go, Miguel! I'm gonna fucking cut him into fucking pieces!”

“ANGEL, FOCUS! Focus on finding Laura. Then, we all will take care of him”. Miguel says, claiming for his attention. “He's going to pay. But now, keep looking for YOUR daughter, okay?”

“Angel, let's go”. EZ places both hands on his shoulders, pulling him away. “Listen to Miguel”.

“Brother, Laura needs us”. Bishop says then, appearing behind him and palming his chest. “C'mon. Let's find the kid”.

“Matthew is not going anywhere, brother. Don't worry about it”.

— Eight hours missing —

Laura isn't stupid. She knows exactly where to go to feel safe of your lies, of everything that it's killing her right now. The sun is going down, plunging the city into the darkness of night. Even if it's not the best place to stay, she knows that no one is going to look for her at the old Coco's house. Grabbing the key under a broken rung, she goes downstairs to open the door. She remember good times in that flat and, even if the place is completely empty, there is a mattress to sleep on.

She's starting to connect some dots of her past. Angel doesn't have any pictures with you of the first months being pregnant, nor even before of that. She doesn't have the last name of the Reyes. And you have always avoided to talk about how you met your husband. When she wants to realize, she's crying again, feeling unhappy, miserable and lonely. She wishes being with pops, because at least he knows what to say in every damn situation. But she doesn't want anyone to know where she is. So staying there, until see what she can or want to do, is the only option.

— Twenty hours missing —

When Laura opens her eyes, it takes her some seconds to remember what happened yesterday and where she is. Coughing with dry throat, she sits up on the mattress resting her back against the wall. Grabbing the phone turned off from the floor, she checks that she has some bucks under the case, enough to have some breakfast. After cleaning her face and tie somewhat better her hair, she leaves the flat. Laura doesn't want to think about you, nor about Angel, nor about anything, covering her head with the hoodie sweatshirt walking with her chin down and avoiding main avenues. Today, she has a destination.

— Twenty two hours missing —

Your eyes are empty of tears, you're just in a constant shock. No drinking, no eating, no sleeping. About to finally collapse. Creeper took you to Felipe's house last night, because Angel thought you shouldn't be alone at the clubhouse, with the little hope that Laura went to her abuelo's house.

“Mija, come here”.

The old man sits by your side, holding you between his arms to give you a warm hug.

“We should have told her…” You whisper.

“It's never too late, (Y/N). She will understand that you did it to protect her, and because you love her”.

For first time in hours, you raise your gaze from your feet to his eyes, covered by a pair of glasses.

“We are her family, ella lo entenderá”. (She will understand it).

— One day and four hours missing —

Laura could win a national Hide and Seek. She learned from the crew, over the years. And that's despairing your husband. Angel didn't sleep a single second, riding around Santo Padre and the border once and again to the places he has visited with Laura since she was born. But nothing. It's as if the earth has swallowed her up.

“Baby, please… Call me. Mi dulcecito, I am… I am so sorry”. Angel is crying like never before, resting his body against his motorbike. “I promise I'll te—tell you the truth… Shit, I miss you, mami… Please, I be—I beg you. Call me”.

He has left thousands of voice messages. But he has received no reply.

— One day and seven hours missing —

Laura is reading for third time the documents between her fingers. She has been thinking about it the whole time, trying to understand why you hid it from her. She has been thinking about Angel, about the good moments, about all the love he gave her unconditionally. The travels, the nights at home watching movies, the days learning about mechanic and self-defense. He accept you and took care of you when Matt left you being pregnant. He loved Laura as if he was his true father. No asks, no complains, nothing.

When she turns on her phone, it collapses for a minute. There are a lot of notifications. Calls, messages, videocalls, even emails. She swallows hardly, typing Angel's number by heart. For a second, she doubts. She could call tío EZ or her abuelo, to ask them first about the decision she has made. But it's been to long. And even if you are her mother, no one loves her more than your husband. Not even you.

“Laura? LAURA? MI DULCECITO, WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU OKAY? ARE YOU HURT?”

“I'm… I'm okay. I'm sorry… Angel”.

His heart stop dead for some seconds, hearing her daughter calling him by his name. The oldest Reyes is surrounded by your family, while you're standing close to him, trying to hear her voice.

“I wanna see you”.

“Of course, mi amor. Tell me where you are… please”.

“I'll send you my location. Come alone”.

— Twenty minutes later —

As soon as Angel spots Laura, your husband parks his bike close to the sidewalk and, taking off the helmet throwing it to the ground, he runs to your daughter sitting on a bench. She gets up at the exact moment that the man's body collides with her. Crying like a child, finally hugging her tightly between his arms.

“Are you okay? Where have you been? Someone has hurt you?” The questions roll out of his mouth, cupping her cheeks in his big hands taking a look of his daughter.

“I'm okay… I'm okay”. She says once and again.

Angel covers her face with kisses, lifting her up and urging her to wrap his waist with her legs, like when she was a little girl. His little girl. Sitting on the bench, your husband rest his forehead on one of her shoulders, unable to stop crying. He was the whole time thinking about the worst things ever, but she's safe now.

“I want the truth”. Laura finally asks, after some minutes hearing him sobbing.

“Tell me, mi amor. I will not hide anything from you again”.

She knows he's being sincere.

“How you met my mother?”

“I… I went with your tíos to Santa Madre. We were off to the club, and Coco wanted to go to the fair… And… she was there, hanging with her friends and she had a craving. You wanna know of what…?”

Laura simply nods.

“Green cotton candy”.

Your daughter smiles fleetingly. Her favorite. She could be eating it all the time.

“Your mother was wearing a black dress. Estaba preciosa, lo juro por Dios”. (She was beautiful, I swear to God).

“And pregnant”.

“Yeah. Five months. But that was the best day of my life 'cause I met the two loves of my existence”.

“You didn' care?”

“How I could, Laura? I lose my ass for her at first sight. As I did for you the day I took you in my arms… with this… pointed nose and your rosy cheeks”. Clarifying his throat, Angel cleans his tears with the back of both hands. “I know we hid it from you, I know we should have told you… but I was so… fucking terrified… So fucking terrified that I was having nightmares about it”.

“Why you… didn't give me your last name?”

“In the registry didn' let us do'et, mi amor. Not without your permission”.

There's a short silence installed between your husband and your daughter, where she takes the advantage to grab the cardboard folder.

“What… What is that?” Angel asks confused, twisting his neck some inches.

“Tell me… Tell me one last thing”. She said before giving him the papers. “Did you ever consider runni—”.

“Never in my fucking life, Laura. I don' give a shit about the man that got your mother pregnant, I don' give a shit about anything that he told you. And I never gave a shit about what people could think about how crazy I had to be to ask your mother out. I fuckin' love her. I fuckin' love you with all my heart and I will never love anyone like I love you, mi dulcecito. I would kill whoever it was for you, without no doubts. Just… Just tell me, and I'll do it”.

Those words looks enough for your daughter, finally giving him the folder.

“Open it”.

“What i—”.

Angel can't finish the question when he reads the main title. He can't help but breaking into a loud cry again. Laura places his arms around his neck, hugging him, trying to comfort your husband.

“Take me home, please”.

— Thirty minutes later —

The front yard of the clubhouse isn't empty as your daughter thought. You are there, accompanied by EZ, Felipe, the whole crew and Miguel. Everybody waiting for her. And when you hear your husband's motorbike your heart jumps, crying again running through the yard towards the entrance. You can see them, and even if your husband has a serious gesture, you're happy to have your daughter back.

As soon as Laura gets up from the bike, you hold her into your arms, kissing your face and hugging her close.

“Mamá, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry”. She apologizes, looking at you with reddened eyes.

“I am the one who have to say sorry, mi vida. I should have told you”.

“I just… Let me tell something to the fam', and then we will talk”.

You just nod, looking at Angel for a second. He doesn't look sad, or unhappy anymore. Laura leads you in front of the guys, who are waiting for her to speak.

“Thank you”. She just says, keeping silence for a while. “For taking care de mi mamá, when she was pregnant. It wasn't your responsibility. We weren't your responsability, and you all welcomed her. And me. I'm sorry if I worried you. I know you all love me, as much as I do. As I will do it forever. But it's not easy when you find out your life was half lie. I just… needed to think about it”.

Angel appears from behind you two, giving you a cardboard folder. Taking it confused, you watch him surrounding your daughter from her back, leaving a kiss on her head.

“I want you to sign tha'”.

“What is this?”

“Laura Reyes' adoption papers”. Your husband says proud, resting his chin on Laura's head.

“We need your signature, mamá”.

#Mayans MC #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfiction

271 notes · View notes

muffinmonstah-art · 3 years

Photo

Eternal

I can't believe you died, my sweet boy. I still feel like it was yesterday when I first met you. You were a beautiful 40th days old puppy. Just a baby, so small and helpless in my arms, that I told myself I would do anything to protect you. To keep you safe from everything. I was almost a teenager, I was unsure about adopting a dog, I even had a bad opinion about small dogs in general. But right when I saw you, I felt like we were ment to be together. It was love at first sight. It's been so many years together, and at some point I didn't want to even think about losing you. That couldn't happen, because I would be there protecting you, taking you to the vet whenever nessesary. But all happened so fast, when two month ago you started losing weight. No matter how much we've fed you. Also you started to be senile and deppressed for no reason. The vet gave me pills and special food for senior dogs. It was nice for a few days, but then again, your health got worse when you started vomiting and didn't want to eat nor drink water. I was desperate, I took you again to the vet and they hospitalized you and kept you connected to serum. It was the only way to give you medicine and keep you hydrated. How is that you started having trouble breathing just two days later? I don't know. They did not mention the reason when they performed the abdominal ultrasound on you. I was there, holding you during the exam and it revealed your kidneys were too little, because you were an old dog. The intoxication caused by your renal problems also gave you a severe gastritis. The same day I brought you back home you had bloody diarrhea because of that. "It doesn't matter" I told myself again. "I have to trust in vets. With their medication and my care you will endure this." But you still didn't want to drink water, so I took you back to the hospital. They put you more serum, they kept you hours and hours there, connected to the serum. The vet said repeatedly to me that you were too old, that your cycle was achived and it was time. I didn't want to hear him. I would have punch him if he even dared to suggest putting you "to sleep". The only option was to help you recover, to treat your sickness. The doctor understood that, even if he said those words trying to prepare my mind just in case you didn't survive the treatment. He gave you every possible medicine to help you out. But when I went to pick you up your breath got worse. The vet said at that point the battle was yours. He did everything for you. And while we were in the car, I started to whisper to you that I wouldn't let you die. But... it happened. That same day. Right in front of me. Ten minutes after arriving home. You stood from the bed I put for you on my bedroom and you just colapsed in the ground. Dead. I don't know ho much just passed since then, I just know I was just crying and embracing your body. "Why?" It was the only thing repeating in my head for sure. I did everything, tried everything, why you were DEAD?! Next thing, my grandparents were back home and my grandma cried over you too. And my boyfriend was on the phone hearing me cry and telling me to let my emotions flow through the surface. It was almost New Year, a sad afternoon of December 30. My grandfather took your corpse to bury you in the backyard while I called by brother to give him the news. I got angry at him because he was not even present in a hard moment like this, just too busy with being in my bitch stupid mother's house. But he came later on to give me hug, so I calmed down a bit. Just a bit. You were gone, my sunshine. Forever. I still can't believe just how and why it all happened so fast. So. Fast. A friend of mine says you choose to stay alive as long as possible, that you refused to part from this wolrd aloone in the hospital, that you waited to be back in my arms to say goodbye. It's so, so sad. But also beautiful in some way. But still sad.

I'm too atheist to believe you are out there somewhere (it sucks that I can't shut down my logic for even one minute to believe it). Your life was the only treassure that existed for me, your only chance to be a happy dog. And it's gone. You don't exist anymore. Or so I thought. See, my boyfriend says you went to an eternal sleep. Like we humans do. He says going back to non existence is like a dream. A dream where you don't suffer anymore. I may not believe in afterlives, but I like that dream theory.

I wish I could at least dream with you, to cuddle you and tell you how much I love you again.

I love you Ra. Thank you so much for making me happy for 15 years, I hope I've made you happy as well.

#my art #digital art #mourning #new year #dogs are family #artists on tumblr

48 notes · View notes

all1e23 · 4 years

Text

Lemon Pancakes [One-shot]

Summary: Mother’s Day in the Barnes house has changed over the years.

Warnings: N/A Unless you count a disgusting amount of fluff to be a warning.

A/N: Sooo... this came out of nowhere, but it’s grown-up Leo. He’s twenty-fourish (math is hard) and working as an RN. None of the kids are living at home in this one-shot.This is just Beck and Leo in this one-shot and no Bucky. Thank you to my beautiful @moonbeambucky for looking it over for me. If you have not read the series Astrophile, THERE WLL BE MAJOR SPOILERS.

Catch up on the series here!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!*

Mother’s day 2047

It was the first Mother’s Day in, God, Y/n can’t remember how long it’s been, twenty-five years? Yeah, that sounds about right. The first Mother’s day in twenty-five years that she’s had to spend alone. Of course, the last time she spent this day alone, she didn’t have three beautiful children and a loving husband. It was merely another day amongst the rest that had seemed to blend together. Then she met Orion and Bucky. Suddenly, it was no longer ‘just another day’ and it became one of her most favorite days of the year. Still is, despite waking up to an empty house this morning.

Bucky hadn’t wanted to leave her home alone this morning. He tried everything he could to get out of work, but he couldn’t find anyone to cover his shift. On top of working the entire day leading up, they needed Bucky to fill in for someone else for half the day, and her kids?

Well, they are all grown up and have lives of their own.

Orion is in California, something they all had to get used to long before this morning. It wasn’t so bad. Flights aren’t awful and they are making use of their frequent flyer miles. Leo took it the hardest. They make it work. Whatever it takes for Orion to be happy and she’s the happiest she’s ever been. They have Theo to thank for that. So, California isn’t so bad. Since she can’t be there in person, there was a sweet text from Orion, when Y/n woke this morning and later that night they have a FaceTime date after Y/n’s Mother’s Day dinner this evening at someplace the kids picked out as a surprise. Cassie’s classes are taking a lot out of her semester, and after listening to her apologize for nearly an hour, Y/n told her daughter to stay home and get some studying in before they meet at six. Despite the agreement, Cassie made sure to shower Y/n’s social media with more posts than necessary to show her affection for her mother.

As for Leo, well, he had been tight-lipped about his plans for this morning. Y/n suspects it’s because of a pretty girl, but she would wait for Leo to come talk to her about whatever has been keeping him so busy, a girl or not. He always does.

Y/n slowly peels herself out of bed to shower and throws on an old pair of jeans and loose-fitting white scoop neck shirt. No need to dress up today. Her only plans consist of those large comfy pillows piled on the couch and one of her books. Maybe Star Lore. It’s one of her daughter’s favorites afterall. Y/n reaches the bottom of the stairs, and she comes to a halt when she spots the tall, dark-haired man standing at the stove.

This is unexpected.

Leo peeks over his shoulder when he hears the squeaky stair and grins at the sight of his mother’s shock. “Mornin’, mama. Pancakes should be ready any minute. Got you some tea, or there’s a pot of coffee ready if you want it.“

"I– Morning, baby.”

Y/n’s gaze shifts from her son to the kitchen island where her galaxy mug is resting, along with two place settings and a huge bouquet of pink star lilies. She sits down at the counter and grins at the flowers in front of her. There’s a card that she will read later because Leo can sometimes get a little shy when he’s in the spotlight like that. One thing he does not share with Cassie. Leo flicks the stove off and turns around to stack two fresh lemon pancakes on her plate, Y/n eyes her son carefully as he sits down beside her.

This has Bucky written all over it.

“Did your father put you up to this?”

Leo chuckles but shakes his head.

“No, dad mentioned he had to work till noon because of some extra shift when I talked to him yesterday, and I didn’t want you home alone. I hate when you have to sit here all alone on a normal day, so I wasn’t about to let it happen today.”

He leans over the small between them and presses a kiss to her cheek. Y/n smiles and strokes his scruff covered cheek affectionately.

“My sweet boy. Always looking out for me.“

Leo groans at the soft tone in her voice but keeps his smile. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“I won’t say a word,“ Y/n chuckles. Leo’s teasing her, and she knows that. Leo’s never minded anyone seeing his affection for her or his sisters. He loves his family and doesn’t care who knows, something he learned from watching Bucky love on his family over the years.

“So.” Y/n tests as she picks up her fork.

“So,” Leo repeats, cautiously.

“How’s work? Oliver mentioned something to Steve about some girl you’ve been gushing about non-stop.”

"Ollie is a dead man,” Leo grumbles under his breath and drops his fork to his plate, “Ma. No. She’s… I don’t– We are just friends. Let’s talk about you today. Meet anyone new? Take anyone out on a date? Do I get two Christmases? Let me be the one to break it to Cassie. She won’t handle it well.“

Y/n snorts and shakes her head. “You really want to hear about my last date? Well, we were going to go to dinner, but you know your dad. We never made it out the front door–”

With his own joke turned back around on him, Leo shudders and quickly shakes his head, regarding her with pleading eyes. “Please, no. Don’t. It’s bad enough you guys are all over each other all the time. I don’t want to hear about it.”

“That will teach you to tease your mother.”

“Trust me, it won’t happen again.”

Leo jabs his stack of lemon pancakes with his fork and tilts his head to the side, staring at the cup of coffee in front of him with a furrowed brow. Y/n lets him sit like that for a while before she steps in and ensures nothing more serious is going on.

“You okay sweetheart?”

His head jerks up at the sound of her voice, and Leo smiles, “Yeah, mama. Just thinkin’.”

“About the girl, you most certainly don’t have a crush on?”

Leo makes a face, showing a playful defeat and hangs his head.

“Yeah, I might be thinking about her.”

Y/n leans back against her chair and waits, letting him come to it in his own time. He’s a lot like Orion in that way, and they both get it from Bucky. No one can push them to say what’s in their head or on their hearts.

“If, uh, let’s just say there’s this girl. She’s smart. So smart, mama and God, is she pretty. Ballsy and has a quick wit. I’m pretty sure she only sees me as a friend, and I’ve been tryin’ to show her she’s not just some girl. I want her to be the girl. I don’t know. I get around her, and I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe I’m missin’ the mark ‘cause I don’t think she even sees me.”

Leo looks over at his mom, and she grins. His face heats up, and he clears his throat, awkwardly stuttering, “I mean, hypothetical… if that was somethin’ that was happening. To Ollie. Not to me… What, uh, what would you tell him?”

Y/n leans forward and covers Leo’s hand with her own. “Ollie? You mean the same Ollie that has been in love with Ariel Tucker since he was seven years old and proudly announced he would marry her one day? If he was struggling to admit his crush?”

He grinned sheepishly and nodded.

“Uh, Yes?”

Y/n had to hold back her laughter. Okay, if he wasn’t ready to admit she wouldn’t force him.

“I guess I would tell him… I would say don't worry about her noticing you. She sees you, sweetheart. You’ve got my eyes and your daddy’s charm. Not the mention that kind heart you wear on your sleeve and give so freely. Trust me, she sees you. Tell her how you feel. Tell her everything you told me.”

Leo’s brow furrows. “That’s it? Just tell her?”

“Surprisingly simple, isn’t it?”

Y/n grins.

“Ask her out, baby. Make sure she knows it’s a date and be very honest with her.”

“You mean Ollie ask her out?”

Y/n smiles.

“Yes, tell Oliver I said, tell her how you feel before she thinks you don’t feel anything at all.”

“That what dad did?”

Y/n snorts and gives his hand one last squeeze before letting go. “Let’s just say if we both had been more direct, you probably would have been born a few months earlier.”

Leo cringes and waves his hands back forth to stop any further talk of… this. “Gross. Please stop.”

She can’t help but laugh at her son’s unenthusiastic response. He drops his hands into his lap and stares up at the ceiling, whispering, “You, uh, you really think it will be that easy?”

“I have a feeling about this one, sweetheart. Trust me.”

He does trust her. The same way the girls do. The same way they all trust Bucky. Leo drops his gaze and meets her eyes, cracking that charming Barnes grin and asks, “I know everyone isn’t here, and Ollie’s girl trouble took up most of breakfast but is it a good Mother’s Day mornin’, mama?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. It was a perfect morning.”

#Beck and Leo #Astrophile files #Astrophile series #bucky barnes x reader #alternate universe #no longer single dad AU

869 notes · View notes

ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 3 years

Text

Roguish Women Part 48

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 48: Kate and Tommy’s wedding. During the reception, Alfie asks a serious question.

“Tommy and I are getting married tomorrow. I still can’t believe it. Even saying it out loud is like a surprise.” Kate laughed softly to herself. She was in the stables, taking her time grooming Blue. It was spring and his winter coat was shedding off and Kate wanted to see his black coat gleaming in the warm sun again. She spoke softly with the gelding as she combed his made and brushed his coat.

Although she was happy about finally getting to the altar after such a long time of waiting, nerves were starting to get the better of her. With her past and with Tommy’s, it was hard to tell what the future held. But what Kate wanted was to at least try to guarantee a good life for their children.

Besides, she decided that maybe she was still clinging to the idea that she didn’t deserve love. Something that she knew Tommy struggled with too.

“I’m sure everything will go alright. At least Tommy’s already gone through a wedding before.”

“Oi, heard that.”

Kate poked her head out of the stall and smiled. Her fiancée was walking down the stable aisle. “I’m just stating facts.” She replied with a smug look. "Out of the two of us, you're the one with wedding experience."

Tommy chuckled and pecked her lips. “You might want to duck out while you can, the boys are coming soon.” The day before the wedding, Arthur set up to go hunting in Warwickshire to celebrate with just the lads. “And they’ve already had a go at some champagne.”

“Well, I’ll make myself scarce. I don’t want to ruin the fun.” She teased.

“Oh please, they’d get a kick out of you coming along.” Tommy stroked Blue’s nose as he poked his head out of the stall to greet him. “Want me to take him?”

“What do you think?” Kate cooed to the gelding. “Do you want to go along for the hunt?” She patted his strong neck. “I think he’d have fun. Lord knows I can’t entertain him much.” She rested a hand on her stomach. It was more than obvious that Kate was pregnant. At five months she had gone through a variety of getting dresses rehemmed or buying new clothes all together.

“I’ll take good care of him,” Tommy promised and began to head to the tack room. But his fiancée stopped him.

“Y’know, I was talking to Frances today,” She said. “Um, about the nursery.”

The two had talked plenty about the pregnancy and subsequently the child or children, depending on if Polly was right. They had even discussed names. But the upstairs of Arrow House had become like a minefield.

Grace’s room was locked and only Tommy had the key. The unfinished nursery that adjoined the room was still under debate. Kate felt as if it was her duty to make sure she wasn’t forcing him into anything. The estate had more than enough rooms to accommodate them if he wanted to close off that part of the hallway.

Yet Tommy had pushed his feelings down. Deep down. As if he was trying to force everything to be okay.

“The nursery is half done.” He replied. “All the furniture is new; we’d just need another cot if it’s twins like Pol says.”

“If it’s twins then maybe we should use one of the bigger rooms?” She moved cautiously through the conversation. The last thing she wanted to do was put a damper on his day. But she still thought it was important.

He met her eyes. “Kate, we talked about this.”

“I know I just worry that you’re not addressing how you feel.” She touched his cheek. “The more honest you are with yourself; the easier life is.”

“We have time on another day to discuss it further.” He kissed her cheek. “Go on back to the house and rest. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I think you’re right about twins, Pol,” Ada said.

“When have I been wrong?”

Kate chuckled softly. She turned right and left to look at herself in the mirror. Ada wasn’t joking. She remembered seeing Ada and Esme pregnant and they didn’t show nearly as much as she did. Especially in a wedding dress, it was hard to conceal. Not that she particularly meant to. She didn’t think anyone who was coming to the wedding that day would be openly critical. “Are there twins in your family?” She wondered.

“Maybe a pair on the Strong side,” Polly recalled and walked over to place a dazzling barrette in Kate’s hair to hold back the curls from her face.

“I didn’t know my mother’s side of the family very well,” Kate admitted. “It may be from her family.”

Polly pivoted the conversation. “Are you sure about walking down the aisle alone? Arthur said he would walk with you.”

“Yeah, he talked to me about it yesterday.” Kate mindlessly adjusted her dress in the mirror, smoothing a hand over her baby bump. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be alright.” There was never a point in her life where she pictured anyone giving her away. She never pictured herself walking down the aisle, to begin with. Her father was never fit enough to be that sort of figure in her life before his death. She felt much more comfortable making the short walk by herself. That's how she found her way to Tommy, all on her own.

“Here.” Ada helped Kate step into her heels so she wouldn’t have to bend down.

“Well, if you change your mind, I’m sure Arthur won’t mind the short notice.” Polly smiled and made sure every Kate’s hair was in place.

Ada glanced up as she fixed the straps of Kate’s heels. “Is it true you invited Alfie Solomons?” She wondered.

“I know his popularity in the family is mixed but he’s a good friend.” Kate asserted so there would be no confusion on the matter.

“It’s your day. Whoever you want at your wedding, you can invite.” Polly nodded in agreement. Although in the back of her mind she hoped that Tommy had prepared the others to see Alfie. She didn’t want the wedding erupting in chaos over some old bad blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m leaving.”

“Brother, easy.” Tommy grabbed Arthur by the suit sleeve before he could storm across the lawns and out of sight.

The guests were starting to take their seats and it just so happened that Alfie Solomons had a near front-row seat to watch the affair. He had a beautiful woman on his arm, Mabel. She looked less like the painfully shy thing that Kate had met at the boxing match. In fact, she was positively glowing with happiness as she exchanged kisses with her sister and the other ladies of the Forty Elephants.

“You invite him to your fucking wedding? Your home?” Arthur seethed under his breath trying not to cause too much of a scene until he had an explanation.

“Kate invited him,” Tommy replied quietly, not to draw attention to them. “And I won’t have you fighting with him on my fucking wedding day. I’ll keep him away from you if you promise you won’t kick-off. If you upset Kate, you're dead.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes and reached into his coat pocket for his flask. “Could’ve warned me.” He muttered.

“I did tell you. Not my fault you were too high on snow not to remember.” Tommy let go of Arthur’s sleeve, confident that his threat had done the trick. “He’s retired, anyways.”

“Men like that don’t retire.” Arthur tucked his flask away.

"Men like us don't retire." Tommy clarified.

The sun had come out, thankfully, for the wedding. Although Polly wanted the union to be under God’s watchful eye, Tommy and Kate had balked. Kate was unsure if she wanted to step on a nerve and get married in the same church Tommy and Grace did. There was no use in being forced to relive painful memories on what was supposed to be a happy day.

Kate suggested perhaps getting married outside. Arrow House had plenty of room out in the lawns. And it reminded her of John and Esme’s wedding. There was something so romantic to her about the beautiful countryside in the spring.

Tommy agreed and a suitable wedding venue was arranged. They were just fortunate that the weather had held and it hadn’t rained like the week before.

So many times, Tommy had thought he’d lost Kate for good. On his journey to bring her home, he was restless as they crossed the Atlantic.

He hardly slept at all, spending most of his time, smoking on the deck of the ship. In the night, he waited until land came into view. But the inky black expanse of the waters and the night sky gave him nothing.

He tried to think of what to say to her. The last words she spoke to him still cut so deep. He knew they weren’t true. She still loved him. But she was trying to keep him safe, trying to sacrifice herself.

He pictured beating Santo Leoni into a bloody pulp. The sound of the gun as he put a bullet through the man’s head.

Finally, the coast came into view. Exhausted but the drive to bring Kate back to safety kept him awake and alert.

On the phone, Frank told him that Kate was fine and that she had killed Santo herself. Tommy hung up and could barely stand still as he waited. The wait at the port felt longer than the entire trip across the ocean. Every second dragged on until the car pulled up.

Kate threw herself out of the car before it had even stopped. Tommy felt so much relief he could’ve cried. He vowed to himself that he would never let her go from that point on.

“You look like you’ve gone into a dream state,” Kate murmured to him when Tommy took her hand.

“I’m trying to convince myself it isn’t a dream.” He replied with a soft smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, they’ve been inseparable since he left for Margate. Lillian said Mabel hasn't come back to Camden since she first visited him. She simply had her stuff sent to her. Been there ever since and has no plans of leaving.” Alice loosely held the champagne flute in her hand. She and Kate were speaking on the edges of the dancefloor. "Of course, everyone's talking about it, but nothing to change. They seem to be in love, far as Lillian says."

Arrow House was abuzz with energy after Tommy and Kate married. The reception was considerably less proper compared to Tommy’s first one with Grace. With no cavalry members in sight, it was a little more relaxed. Not to mention the number of criminal masterminds in attendance. But truthfully, they were the most fun.

Kate looked smug watching Alfie and Mabel talking across the dance floor. “Well, I won’t say I told him so.”

Alice smiled and finished her champagne. “Alfie handed over some paperwork to me this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Wants me to take over the bakery.”

Kate tried to play it cool even though she was excited for her friend and even more excited that Alfie had gone through with what he said. Maybe this was his final act of retirement and his acceptance of his new life with Mabel. “Well, you have the support of the Peaky Blinders.”

“Just can’t wait to see Sabini’s face when he finds out.”

“Ha,” Kate snorted. “I’d like to see that too.”

“Mind if I interrupt?” Tommy stepped into their conversation.

Kate beamed. What had been such a beautiful ceremony was melting into the ideal she never knew she wanted. A life forever by the side of the man she loved.

“Of course.” Alice smiled. “I’m going to go find Lillian and Ruby.”

Tommy took Kate’s hand and led her to the dancefloor. Holding her close, they began to sway together to the soft jazz music.

“You haven’t gone off to meet with some crazy Russian duchess again, have you?” Kate teased.

He chuckled. “For a Shelby wedding, this has been very uneventful.”

“The night is still young.” She murmured in his ear with a smile.

“I like it better this way.” He admitted. “I didn’t want anything to happen, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“You’ve always treated me like I’m some sort of royalty.” She lightly ran her fingers up the nape of his neck.

“That’s how you deserve to be treated. Every day I was apart from you, I promised I would make it up to you.”

“Tom, you don’t need to beat yourself up because of the past. I’m here, we’re finally married. We’re going to be parents soon. Everything that happened, happened. And despite all of it, all my paths lead back to you.” She stopped dancing a moment so she could look him in the eyes. “And they always will.”

Tommy saw the world in her eyes. A world very unlike the one he had planned for so many years. In Kate’s eyes, he saw himself walking away from everything. Moving into Arrow House permanently. Raising the children, they would have. Spending his days riding horses, hunting, and being the best father, he could.

Those blue eyes invited him to do all of that and more. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

He gently kissed her, hoping that he could hold steady onto his given path.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Thought I’d find you out here.” Tommy sat down on the front steps next to Alfie. “Mabel was asking around for you. Kate had me come look for you.”

Alfie seemed to snap out of his thoughts. “Oh, congratulations, mate.” He hadn’t really heard what Tommy had said to him. “Kate’s very happy. Y’know, before all this she’d come into me office. I figured it was because she was doing her fucking job but then she’d start lamenting to me about you. Like I were her gossip buddy.” He snorted and shook his head. “She wanted nothing more than to have you but didn’t think she deserved it. Of course, you and I both know it’s the opposite way around, innit?”

Tommy shrugged.

“I don’t deserve Mabel. Not in a million years. Not even if God himself came down and told me we were meant to be.”

“I thought you two were hitting it off. That’s what Kate said.”

“I ain’t never been so happy.”

Tommy raised an eye at him. “Then what’s the problem, Alfie?”

The man beside him took a heavy deep breath. “I’m dying, Tom. I told Kate at the boxing match. I’ve got skin cancer and it’ll kill me in a couple of years if I’m lucky. That’s why I want you to kill me.”

After two blows, Tommy was a bit speechless. Alfie was dying and he wanted him to kill him. In what world were they living? This certainly wasn’t the man who had threatened to shoot Tommy on many occasions.

“I’m not going to kill you, Alfie.”

“Oh, c’mon you know you’ve wanted to fucking put a bullet through me head ever since we met. I ain’t blind. Now I’m giving you the option and you turn it down like a scared little boy?” Alfie wasn’t angry. When he was angry, everyone around him knew. No, this was fear. Fear coming from a man who claimed to be fearless.

“What would that do to Mabel? Aye? And d’you think Kate would ever speak to me if I did?” Tommy questioned harshly. “You’ve got another part of life to appreciate, try not to skip out on it.”

“Yeah, how much you think I’m gonna enjoy that while I’m rotting away?” Alfie demanded. “While Mabel watches?”

Tommy shook his head. The logic wasn’t lost on him. How many nights had he been wide awake wondering how long he had to suffer? How much longer would he tolerate the pain and weight of the world? How many times had someone held a gun to his head? How many times was he completely at peace with the cold metal of a gun pressed against his skin? How many times had he waited patiently for that click and then….nothing.

“I’m not killing you.” He said again. Because if Tommy had given in, he wouldn’t be sitting there. Married and about to be a father. “We’ll get the best doctors in London to help.”

“Oh, right. So now you’re my saving grace?” Alfie rolled his eyes. “Fucking ridiculous. I don’t want some fucking doctor drugging me up. I ain’t gonna roam around life high like you lot.”

“I know you don’t think you deserve Mabel. Maybe you don’t. Maybe I don’t deserve Kate. But look at us, aye? They’re still here with us. You fucking need God to come down and explain that to you?”

Alfie grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I knew you’d be no fucking help.”

“Take it up with Kate. See how she reacts and then you’ll realize how much easier I was on you.” Tommy replied and lit up a cigarette. “She’d go ballistic.”

The two men sat out in the breezy spring night. Past the gravel drive was nothing but dark countryside with the sounds of nocturnal life.

“I saw the ring Mabel was wearing.” Even at his own wedding reception, Tommy was perceptive. He could never turn it off even if he wanted.

Alfie merely muttered something incoherent under his breath.

“So, I invite you to my wedding but I’m not given the same courtesy.”

“It were a gift.” He grumbled crankily. "Can't I buy jewelry for her without people getting their knickers in a twist?"

Tommy tapped the ash off his cigarette to the step beside him. “So, no plans then?”

“Her mum threw a fit when she found out. Even in retirement, I’m still the devil of Camden. No one wants their women near me. Her mum hated that we were friends when we were kids. Guess she thought she was in clear, that I wouldn't ever go near Mabel again.” He let out a humorless laugh. "Guess she were wrong and now I'm corrupting her thirty-four-year-old daughter. S'fucking ridiculous."

“Since when have you cared what anyone else thinks?”

“I don't. But Mabel's getting an earful every night. Ain't fair to her." Alfie shrugged. “Just know there won’t be no blessings coming my way, that’s for sure.”

“Except for Kate.”

He laughed. “It’s tough to disappoint her, innit?”

“I think she’d be disappointed if I killed you especially if she found out you asked me to do it.”

“There’s just no pleasing some people.” Alfie shook his head.

“Come on.” Tommy stood up. “Don’t want Kate thinking you’ve skipped off without saying goodbye to her.”

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

Tag list: @radical-gecko @actorinfluence @meltingicequeen @merlettina

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

#tommy shelby #tommy shelbyxoc #tommy shelbyxofc #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #alfie solomons #ofcs #ocs #polly gray #season 4

21 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Ever in Your Favor, Chapter Three (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: Rosé and Denali arrive at the Capitol Training Center and begin training, all while Denali tries to come up with a strategy that will help them survive.

A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely feedback on chapter two! There's a bit more action in this one, and I really hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much to Writ for beta-ing! Please leave some feedback if you'd like, I really appreciate it.

The Training Center is as big and white and gleaming as always, so tall Rosé has to crane her neck to see the top. Even though she was scared her first time arriving here sixteen years ago, part of her was excited by such a huge building, by the huge room that was all hers, no parents nagging her to start homework or sisters barging in to steal hair brushes. In the years since, she’s come to hate this place, walls heavy with anger and fear and sleepless nights in a bed soft enough that it shouldn’t cause them.

They’re in the Capitol now, miles from the coal-dusted world of District 12 in every sense. Everything here comes at the push of a button, and there are so many to choose from. There are ones in the train compartment to regulate temperature and recline the seats, and once they get to their rooms, they’ll face so many buttons in the shower that Rosé almost flooded the bathroom trying to figure them out her first time there. She hates how familiar it’s become. Hearing her name yesterday felt like a dream, but now that they’re here it feels like her old life in District 12 was the dream, and her home has always been and will always be in this center, in the arena.

No.

She doesn’t ever want this to feel like home. Home is the smell of fresh bread and flour clinging to hands. Home is her father whistling songs for her mother while he decorates cakes. Home is her sisters wrapping her in a blanket and loving her even on days she’s sure she doesn’t deserve it. The Capitol will never be home.

She and Denali are awake when the train pulls up to the center. They had stayed awake all night, sitting together even though Manila offered them private sleeping compartments. But Rosé didn’t want to be alone and unable to sleep, so she figured it was better to be unable to sleep with Denali instead. Less lonely, at least. The world faded through the windows as they stuffed themselves with every donut the dining car offered, washing it all down with hot coffee--nothing like the watery stuff in District 12--to ward off sleep. Rosé wonders if the Games made Denali scared to sleep around people, like they did to her.

“Good morning! Rise and shine, everyone!” Manila crows from the doorway. She’s changed into a hot pink dress with a matching hat, frowning at Rosé and Denali’s rumpled clothes.

“Morning,” Denali says, while Rosé just grunts. Everything feels too heavy to rise or shine right now.

“I hope you’ll be more cheerful for the cameras,” Manila frets. “Interviews aren’t far off, they’re—”

“We know, Manila!” Rosé snaps. She knows Manila means well, that she’s trying to help them create a good public image and survive. But Rosé has been awake for over 30 hours and she’s not in the mood. The reaping feels like a lifetime ago, a lifetime Rosé has felt every year in. She sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired. We’ll be fine in the interviews, I promise,” she says, because Manila’s face has fallen and Rosé doesn’t have the energy to be mean.

“We will,” Denali agrees.

“Of course,” Manila says happily, because nothing bothers her for long. “Let’s go to your rooms. We could all use some rest.”

They follow without protest, up to the same floor and into the same rooms they always stay in. Are the other floors already filled with their tributes? Tributes who will stop at nothing to kill Rosé so they can win? She forces the thought away, sinking into the thick carpet in her room.

Manila says they’re free until dinner, and Rosé drops on the bed and falls asleep.

---

The training room is empty at five in the morning, which almost makes it worth the early wake-up. Rosé had slept through dinner and woke up foggy and confused about the bed underneath her, to find a note from Denali inviting her to train. Denali stretches beside her, shorts and a sleeveless black shirt revealing her smooth skin, and Rosé’s stomach twists at the sight. Denali is beautiful, a beauty Rosé never lets herself notice.

“Enjoying the view?” Denali teases, sticking her tongue out.

Rosé sticks her tongue out back at her to avoid responding.

Denali continues stretching, her toned legs and muscled arms sparking some worry in Rosé. She’s not fifteen anymore, and she can’t remember the last time she went for a run or did anything that might count as exercise. Her days are mostly spent watching TV and trying not to think until one of her sisters shows up and coaxes her off the couch and into helping with dinner. The only good thing is that she doesn’t really drink anymore--only because she’d have to go out and buy liquor, and she hates leaving the safety of her house, hates how the world is so open like the arena, hates how people look at her. Either way, she’s in nowhere near as good shape as Denali. And that’s just Denali--what about the Career districts, where everyone works out in fancy facilities every day? What about the added challenge of every competitor having already won the Games and knowing how to fight?

Rosé turns her gaze to the weapons along the wall. Knives and spears and swords and axes, all gleaming and razor-sharp. She never thought she’d have to use one again, but seeing them just proves how real this is. She’s really going back into the arena, and she has to fight if she wants to survive. Even if it means fighting the woman smiling next to her.

“Are you gonna use a sword again?” Denali asks.

“I guess. I--I never actually trained with it last time,” Rosé admits. “I practiced with knives and spears, but a sword was all I could get from the Cornucopia. Figured it was--”

“Like a giant knife,” Denali says, and Rosé laughs, because that’s what she would have said.

“Yeah.”

“Like a knife and a spear had a baby, really,” Denali says thoughtfully. “Wait. So that fight with the District 1 boy, you beat him with no training?”

“I think it was instinct,” Rosé says. “I knew I was dead if he got me, so my body just reacted. And I got lucky. He slipped, and his chest was exposed, and then...you know.” She squeezes her eyes shut against the memory of him gasping as her sword sunk into his chest. Denali talks about the Games so easily, so freely, that Rosé forgot she doesn’t talk about it herself. It’s why she so rarely talks about anything besides the weather with Denali, because she can’t handle much else. Sometimes even just looking at Denali is too much, a reminder of the past that Rosé lost, and it’s easier to wrap herself in silence.

Denali nods.

Rosé clears her throat. “What about you? Sticking with your bow?” Denali is better with a bow than anyone Rosé’s ever seen, each arrow an extension of her arm. She was amazed every time Denali used it in the Games, mesmerized by how fast she loaded the strings and released each arrow.

“Definitely. I’ll practice with it later. For now”--she leads Rosé away from the weapons-- “I thought we could run.” She points to the track circling the upper level of the training room.

Rosé groans and follows, more grateful than ever that no one’s here to watch.

She keeps up with Denali, but she knows Denali is slowing her pace. Denali was so fast in her Games that people called her the Fox, and her quick, graceful movements prove the nickname. Her knee is bothering her, though. Rosé can tell, even if Denali won’t admit it. She hurt it the last day of her Games, so brutally Rosé could barely watch, her heart clenching at Denali’s pain. It had been down to Denali and a girl from District 4, and the girl pinned Denali underneath her. She grabbed a massive rock and crushed Denali’s knee so she couldn’t run, then dragged her by the ankle to the edge of a rainy cliff, twisting her leg until Denali was screaming in pain, mere seconds from death. Only Denali managed to grab a tree root, holding on with all her strength, and the District 4 girl lost her grip and tumbled over the cliff herself. Denali was barely conscious when the cannon marked her as the winner, and it took the doctors a lot of work to put her knee back together. Rosé spent days at the Capitol hospital waiting for her to wake up, needing to see that she was okay. Denali’s tough, she’ll give her that.

“Another lap?” Denali asks. She’s hardly broken a sweat, and Rosé takes back her previous thought, because that toughness is annoying. She wonders if Denali ever lets herself rest and sadly answers her own question.

Rosé pretends she isn’t huffing and puffing. “Let’s do it.”

---

Denali quickly makes herself a routine at the Training Center. She starts every morning working out with Rosé, her heart swelling with pride when Rosé keeps up with her, cheeks burning when her arms flex as she lifts weights. Rosé trains only with Denali, because she’s been practicing with spears and knives and doesn’t want anyone to know. It’s a good plan to keep her skills secret, even if it means Rosé hasn’t had a chance to size up the tributes herself. Then she has lunch and spends the afternoon watching Games of this year’s tributes, analyzing their strengths and weaknesses. Denali does a second workout before dinner, when the training room is littered with muscular tributes, watching them in between stringing her bow. Then they have dinner, where Rosé ignores any discussion of tributes or strategy. Denali spends the nights coming up with ideas, anything at all that can benefit them in the Games.

Denali understands that Rosé wants to avoid it, wants no reminders of what they’ll be walking into. Denali should use it to her advantage--if Rosé is rattled and in denial, she’s that much easier to defeat. But she can’t. Not when the world has been so cruel to Rosé, stripping away so much of her, taking that confident gleam in her eyes and replacing it with tired mistrust. Not when Rosé has been so good to her since they were kids and helped Denali survive the first time. Denali won on her own, but Rosé taught her to fight and got sponsors to send anything she needed, looking out for her the way she would her sister. Rosé had believed in her the whole time, and Denali wants to believe in her, wants to help her, too.

Even if helping Rosé makes it harder for Denali to survive in the long run.

---

The training room buzzes with grunts and fists smacking into punching bags. Denali hovers in the corner, watching the District 8 tributes. Their industry is textiles, and Denali’s been watching them work with ropes and knots, picking up new skills. Their female tribute seems nice enough, at least, and even shoots Denali a thumbs-up when she completes a knot successfully. Denali returns a hesitant smile, trying to forget that if she wants to live, this woman, no matter how kind she’s been, has to die.

She runs through tributes in her mind. Districts 1 and 2 are Careers, towering over her with giant muscles. Those districts have so many victors their victor pool was a regular reaping pool. The man from District 1 won the year before Denali, and she was grateful he wasn’t in her Games; he had cut down tributes with his axe in mere days, the footage soaked with blood. That relief was for nothing, because she’s facing him now. District 3’s tributes are older than Denali, and putter around the room with wires. Their industry is technology, so it makes sense. But Denali’s yet to see them train with a weapon, and wonders if it’s strategy or lack of ability. She won’t underestimate anyone. She had been underestimated herself, with her District-12-underfed frame and no advanced training, but she was born with her father’s bow in her hand, and nothing could stop her with it. District 4’s tributes--

“So it really is the Fox.”

Denali looks up to see the man from District 4--she’s pretty sure his name is Finn--looming over her. His hair is sun-gold, eyes sea-blue, and his looks are the main reason the audience had fallen in love with him. His charm in the interviews didn’t hurt, nor did the way he won in a week.

“Not like it could be anyone else from my district,” Denali says, making herself as tall as she can.

“Right, right.” He flashes a blinding smile. “Your other tribute never seems to be here. She’s not scared of us, is she?”

“Definitely not. She just has her own plans,” Denali says, anger rising in her at the thought of anyone thinking Rosé is a coward. She’s braver than this whole room put together.

“Good to have a plan,” he says cheerfully. “I have a wife back home. Baby on the way. Capitol will eat that up. Good love story, you know?” He tries to come off casual, but he’s truly excited about his family, Denali can tell. Just like with the woman from District 8, she doesn’t let herself think of the odds.

“Why are you here?” Denali asks.

“To talk to you. You were something in your Games. You and McCorkell both. I couldn’t believe how you hung on to that tree at the end. I thought you were a goner for sure. You’re tough, Foxx.”

Denali sucks in a breath. The worst nightmare she has about the Games is about that last day. Every time, she can hear the bones in her knee shattering under the rock, feel the branches scratching her arms as she was dragged along, smell the metallic tang of the blood pouring over her leg. Every time she wakes up, soaked in sweat and gasping for air, she tears the blankets off and checks that her knee is in one piece. Sometimes even in daylight she’ll be hit with a sudden pain and fully expects to see a mess of blood and bone when she looks down. The girl who did it was from District 4. Denali knows it wasn’t personal, that Districts don’t matter when it comes to that, but it leaves a bad taste in her mouth as she watches the man, who’s still talking.

“--If you and McCorkell want an ally in the arena, let me know.”

An alliance with Rosé is risky enough. There’s strength in numbers, but how big can she extend her circle? Can she let someone else in, trust them, and run the risk of getting betrayed in the arena, or having to kill a friend?

“I’ll think about it,” Denali says. But she’s really thinking about something else. About families and love stories and Capitol sympathies. She has a plan. She just needs to get Rosé on board.

---

“Knife practice today?” Denali asks once they’ve finished their run.

Rosé nods, grabbing two knives and tossing her one, which she catches easily. They face off, lunging and dodging and blocking, and it’s so like Denali’s first time training, carefully watching Rosé and being in awe of her, that she feels some of her seventeen-year-old energy take over. Even Rosé seems less tired when Denali looks at her with eyes of the past. Her moves are fast and graceful, almost enough to distract Denali. She could watch Rosé move for hours, eyes tracing the sweat dampening her hair, the curves of her arms.

“Tired, Rosie?” Denali teases after her knife almost gets Rosé, the old nickname flying out and feeling so good on her lips.

“I could do this all day,” Rosé shoots back, even cracking a smile.

Denali takes the buzzing in her body from looking at Rosé and uses it, knocking the knife from her hand and slamming her against the wall, knife pressed to Rosé’s throat. Her other hand holds Rosé’s arm in place, and Denali’s palm tingles at the hard muscles beneath her. She’s close enough to see the freckles snaking under the collar of Rosé’s shirt, close enough to see the flecks of green in her hazel eyes. Rosé has always been beautiful; it’s just that Denali doesn’t see her often enough--and never this close--to truly appreciate it. Now, she takes everything in like a person gulping water after escaping the desert, desperate to drink in every detail.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Rosé mutters, and Denali’s cheeks burn.

“And so the student surpasses the master.” Denali smirks, but before she knows what’s happened, the knife is snatched out of her hand and she’s being twisted around. Denali gasps when her back hits the wall and the knife is at her throat, one arm braced by Rosé’s body and the other pinned to the wall by Rosé’s hand over her wrist.

“If you were really the master, you wouldn’t have left my other hand free,” Rosé says. “And I taught you that move in the first place.” She tightens her grip on Denali’s wrist, thumb stroking her skin so gently she’s sure Rosé isn’t even aware of it. For a second, her smile is the one Denali remembers, the one that shows all her teeth and stretches into her cheeks, and Denali’s breath flies out of her. Rosé releases her grip, and Denali is sad to lose her touch.

“Wanna do another round? With a bet this time?” Denali asks, raising an eyebrow. “I win, you have to talk strategy with me. You know we need one. District 1 has been running sprints and training with every weapon. I think they’re gonna sprint to the Cornucopia, get everything they can, and attack from the start. The man from District 4 is gonna talk about his family for sympathy points. He offered me an alliance, actually. You won’t even look at the other tributes. You know some of them think you’re afraid? We need a plan, Rosé.”

“Why, so the Gamemakers can shit on it?” Rosé demands. Anger crosses her face, and Denali isn’t sure if it’s because she’s calling Rosé out, or because her courage is being questioned.

Denali clenches her fists. “Well, we need something! I know you’re pissed, but why don’t you use that anger to prepare? Do you think Jan wants you going in the arena with no plan?” Rosé flinches and Denali immediately knows she’s gone too far. Not just in bringing up Jan, but in using her against Rosé. She opens her mouth to apologize, but Rosé is already speaking.

“The boy who was chosen with me had a plan too,” Rosé says hoarsely. “He wanted to risk getting food at the Cornucopia. I watched him get killed ten seconds in. My plan was to keep to myself, avoid everyone. That worked until the Gamemakers got bored and conjured fucking murder-wasps to draw us together. It doesn’t matter to me who the other tributes are. If I want to survive, they have to die, and you know my plan this round? Survive.” The anger she started with has collapsed into sheer exhaustion. The exhaustion of waiting for 23 kids to die so she could live, and having to do it all over again. The exhaustion of watching 23 more kids die every year, and never being able to save the ones she’s supposed to guide. The exhaustion of someone who managed to survive and constantly wonders why they got so lucky, constantly questions the price of that life.

The same exhaustion Denali pretends not to feel weighing down her bones.

“Rosé, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, Denali. You’re doing everything right and I’m not helping. I taught you well.” Rosé offers a weak smile and rubs her hands over her face. “I just--I never wanted to do this again.” She sinks to the floor, back against the wall, knees cradled protectively against her chest.

“I understand. Can I sit with you?” Denali asks gently, since Rosé still seems a little fragile, like glass held together with tape. Denali’s not used to seeing her like this, and it hurts her chest somehow. Rosé nods, and Denali copies her position.

“Denali, are you sure you want me in the arena? I wouldn’t blame you if you allied with other tributes. I mean, you’re you, and I’m”--Rosé shakes her head helplessly, like she’s trying to figure out exactly what she is-- “I’m just me. I won almost twenty years ago. I’m not in shape like you. I don’t want to hold you back.”

It breaks Denali’s heart to know Rosé thinks of herself like that, and she won't let her. “‘Just me?’” Denali asks angrily. “Just Rosé McCorkell, one of the youngest victors in history? Who won a sword fight with no training and taught me to fight in the first place? Don’t even think that, Rosé. You’re already keeping up in training—you just crushed me in that knife fight. There’s no one else I want on my team.”

“Thanks for the ego boost,” Rosé says, but Denali can tell she’s touched by how her eyes soften at the edges. “I’m not giving up. I can’t. And I don't want to let you or my sisters down either. It’s gonna take those Capitol bastards a lot more to get rid of me.”

Denali smiles, glad the fight has returned to her. “I know planning seems pointless. I just want to have something, so maybe we don’t get sucker-punched again.” It’s how she’s lived her entire life since the Games--watching old footage, staying in shape, sleeping with weapons. Never a moment to rest, because any moment of rest in the Games means almost certain death. It was her way of staying ahead of the Capitol, of not letting the Games beat her. But maybe they did win, and her routine is a losing cause. Maybe she did all that stuff—in essence, training—because she had already lost herself to the Games and would do anything to tip the balance in her favor, to fully escape it all. Maybe some part of her was always afraid of going back, and wanted to prepare for the next round.

“What did you have in mind?” Rosé asks.

“Well, we don’t have a mentor, so we’re especially screwed.”

No other victors means no mentor for them. They don’t need fighting tips, but the mentor is the one out in the Capitol advocating for them, getting sponsors to send supplies. With no mentor, they have to be enough on their own to convince people to send things. Everything they do, from the minute tribute interviews start, has to make the crowd love them enough to keep them alive.

When she was seventeen, she followed the strategy Rosé gave her--be cheerful and excited in the interview; stick with your bow; keep away from the others and let them weed themselves out--and relied on her to get Denali supplies. That’s not an option here.

“I didn’t have a mentor my first time either,” Rosé says.

It was bad enough being torn from your life and having to compete; Denali couldn’t imagine having to do it alone. And Rosé was only fifteen. She must have been so scared, and Denali wishes she could have helped somehow, protected that young version of Rosé.

“Right,” Denali says. “But people loved you and sent you stuff anyway. How did you make it happen?”

Rosé shrugs. “I knew I had to make them like me, so I wanted to be perfect at first, but Manila—she felt bad for us and kind of made herself our mentor—suggested a little more honesty. So I turned up the charm, kept smiling, and whenever they brought up Jan, I said how I felt. I didn’t want them using her against me.”

Denali nods. She had been glued to her screen for Rosé’s interview, hanging on every word. She was absolutely genuine, radiating pure charm, making comments she let you think were serious for just a second before her brilliant smile and breathy laugh let you in on the joke. The only time she got emotional was when she said how she loved her sisters and kept touching the lion pin from Jan, which the crowd thought was the sweetest thing. They called her the Lion and went wild for her, and when she needed water or food in the arena, a silver parachute was never far behind.

“That’s what we have to do this time. Be extra likable, so the audience wants us to make it.” Denali takes a breath. “But we need something more. A lot of the tributes were audience favorites. We need something special to stand out.”

“Aren’t my stunning good looks enough?”

Denali ignores the joke. “I think we need to pretend we’re in love with each other.”

Rosé doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t run either, so that’s something.

“Think about it,” Denali continues when the silence is growing too long. “They want drama, right? Two childhood friends turned star-crossed lovers, loving each other even in the face of danger? The audience will eat that up. They’ll love us.”

It’s a perfect plan, really. There have been victors who ended up in relationships with other victors after the Games, but never two tributes who have gone into the Games as a couple. It immediately sets them apart from even the most beloved tributes this year, making them the ones to watch, to remember, to love. The drama makes the Games just as much as the action, and who wouldn’t love the drama and sweetness of romance? If they can sell this, the audience will instantly root for them, sending parachutes of whatever they need to keep watching them until the end.

The end.

Denali doesn’t want to think about what happens at the end.

“That…could work,” Rosé says hesitantly. “I just--you’d be okay with me using you like that?”

Of all the protests Rosé could have made, worrying about Denali was the last one she expected. Even with everything the Games took from her, Rosé’s heart is still intact in her somehow.

“I mean, we’d be using each other.” Denali smiles ruefully. “Look, you said yourself the goal is to survive. This will help us do that. It doesn’t have to change anything between us. It’s a fucked-up game. We’re just playing it.”

Rosé closes her eyes, breathing in and out slowly, deliberately. She does it two more times, and Denali can’t imagine what’s going through her head. She opens her eyes, and Denali sees her answer.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Rosé nods. “And Denali?”

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow I’ll train with you when the others are here. Let them see us together,” Rosé says confidently. There’s a dim fire sparking in her eyes and she seems like her old self again, the one Denali admired so fiercely. “The last thing we need is someone calling bullshit on us.”

“You’re right.” Denali didn’t even think of that. They have to be careful and really make it believable. But they have a shared past, and even if they no longer know each other as well as they did, Rosé is just as determined and dedicated as Denali, and they’ll make this seem real.

It can work.

Denali just hopes it doesn’t come down to the two of them at the end. Because looking at Rosé like this, her eyes shining and cheeks gently flushed, Denali doesn’t think she’ll be able to kill her.

#rpdr fanfiction #s13 #denali foxx #rosé #manila luzon #rosnali #lesbian au #hunger games au #ever in your favor #athena2 #tw violence #concrit welcome #submission

8 notes · View notes