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hangmanssunnies · 2 years

Text

Inconceivable!

Summary: No one tells you how hard it is to have to plan to leave and hurt the love of your life. However, when you know you want different things, you must choose. And your baby is probably the only thing you can ever imagine choosing over Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw.

Pairings: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem! Reader

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Word count: 8.2k words

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, fertility problems, panic attacks, Angst with a happy ending, threatening to break Brad's heart, so many references to The Princess Bride,Soft!smut, Soft!Bradley, Organized!Bradley. Let me know if I missed any others.

Authors Note: No use of Y/N. As always, I love BradBrad so much y'all. I don't know if I can write nonangsty smut. I was thinking of him and kids. The next thing you know I wrote whatever this is. Bradley wearing glasses 🥵. I hope you enjoy this! My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are always appreciated as well! I love reading through them.

You knew Bradley never wanted to be a father, which was just fine with you because you knew you couldn't have kids. You had known about your fertility problems for a long time and had long ago come to peace with it.

Y'all had several conversations about children when you first started dating. Once you both felt like your feelings on the matter were hashed out, you had never really felt like revisiting the topic. Your life wasn't less or empty without kids. You were perfectly content with the life you and Rooster had made together.

That's why you have no idea what to do with the situation you are in right now. You were at your gynecologist for your annual check-up. Taking a pregnancy test was standard procedure, something you didn't even bat your eyes about or worry over. What you weren't prepared for was the positive results back.

"I'm sorry?" You choked out in disbelief. "That can't be possible."

"I know this is probably surprising, but," your doctor starts to say before you cut them off.

"No. No, I have known since I was 17 that I can't get pregnant."

"Well, you are and can. Sometimes miracles like this can happen," your doctor responded kindly.

She went on to ramble more and talk about some next steps and options. You felt shocked, not entirely sure how to process the information she was throwing your way. You left the office a bit later, promising to set up a follow-up appointment.

Your first thought was to get an abortion. It was the obvious solution. Bradley didn't want kids, and you hadn't wanted them either. Right? You tried to think if it was true. Was it that you didn't want kids or just that you couldn't have kids?

For the next week, you tried to run the pros and cons and sort out your feelings on what was happening. You tried to act as normal as possible with Bradley. You didn't want to bring anything up until you knew how you felt.

Part of you kept coming back to when you were a little girl to how growing up before you knew that you couldn't have kids, the promise you would whisper to yourself. The promise of how you would do better than your own parents did.

You thought of the fantasies you used to have: the baby shoes, baking in the kitchen guiding a tiny pair of hands, sports practices, matching sweaters for family holiday cards, first recitals, proms and homecomings, dropping them off for their first day of college, and parent's weekends where you buy cheap booze, family trips, the possibilities of grandkids.

Now suddenly, all those fantasies were a possibility again. A reality that could come true in less than a year. Thinking about them brought an ache to your chest. An ache that manifested as want, a desire so strong all the cons you could come up with didn't really matter, well, all of them but one.

The biggest problem of the puzzle was Bradley, the love of your life. You had absolutely no doubt that he would do the right thing and stay by your side. However, you didn't want him to be a dad because he had to do it. The thought of him being forced to do something he didn't want to, just because it's the right thing, made your stomach roll. The idea of part of him resenting you, and eventually your child too, because of something you chose. That was something you couldn't live with.

So even though you felt a heavy hurt in your chest, you knew you had to leave Bradley. You weighed that heartbreak compared to the want for this child that had bloomed in your chest, and one outweighed the other. So now, on top of thinking about the baby, you started to think through quiet plans of how it would hurt your husband least to leave him.

You almost broke down one night and told him the two of you had been lying on the couch together. Bradley was casually spooning you from behind, one of his hands playing with a lock of hair while the movie he picked played on the TV. Of course, it was the Princess Bride, one of his all-time favorites.

You were half watching the movie, half dozing. Bradley was too good at soothing you, and you had started noticing a significant change in your energy levels as of late. You mentally made a note to bring it up at the follow-up doctor's appointment you had scheduled.

"I would do that," Bradley suddenly says, bringing you back to alertness.

"Oh really?" you hum, unsure what he was talking about.

"Yes, I would wait five years and chase after kidnappers, fight the prince, build a tolerance to poison, all for you, baby."

Bradley's honest love for you warmed your chest like it always did. However, the current circumstances turned that warmth into a bitter aftertaste in the back of your throat. What you were doing haunted you. His hand drops your hair and traces down your arm until he threads your fingers together. His large hand in yours helped further break down your resolve.

"What if I asked you to do something you didn't want to?" You ask him hesitantly.

"If you wanted me to, then I would," Brad tells you plainly. As if that were a given, you should just expect that his desires would line up with yours. It doesn't put you at ease like you were hoping it would.

"What if it was something you really didn't want to. Something bigger than sword fights and rodents of unusual size?"

His hand flexes squeezing yours a little tighter. Bradley doesn't say anything for a moment, and you wait with bated breath. Finally, he nuzzles your neck with his nose before asking, "Do you have something specific in mind?"

That was the moment, the moment that you could come clean to him. You could be honest and lay it all out on the table, but you don't. You can't. You aren't ready to let him go yet; it's too soon, you tell yourself.

So you lie to him, finally pushing the words out your throat, "No, nothing specific. Just asking."

Bradley's fingers that are laced with yours squeeze yours again, and you have the sneaking suspicion that he doesn't believe your lie. "Well, even if it was big. We would do what we always do. We'll talk about it and figure it out. Then I'll agree with what you want, just like I always do."

"You shouldn't do things you don't want to do just for me, Brad," you chastise him lightly. The heavy pit in your chest constricts even more.

He kisses your head, pulling you a little tighter against him in his embrace. "Sure, whatever you say, babe."

The whole thing sits with you for another week, and the doctor's appointment you made starts to creep closer. You are reading an article in incognito mode on your phone about nutrition during pregnancy and the importance of vitamins. Occasionally, you glance up to see Bradley sitting on the other side of the couch.

He has a thick World War Two biography book wide open, nearing the end. His reading glasses are perched on the edge of his nose. Even though you had teased Brad relentlessly when he first got them, the glasses were actually really hot. The sight of them on him now makes heat start to bud in the bottom of your abdomen.

You lock your phone and set it aside, looking more thoroughly at Bradley now. He was so so very handsome. You found it unlikely there would ever be another man you would allow into your bed after him. The edges of panic that seep into you every time you consider the inevitable end with Bradley makes a reappearance. You push it to the side as much as possible, but it creates a sudden desperation for him in you.

"Bradley."

"Yes, my love?" He asks, not looking up from the page in front of him.

"I need something."

"What do you need?" He turns the page of his book and pushes those damn glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

"I need you," you tell him, biting your lip.

His eyes snap up from the page to look at you, and his eyebrows raise, processing your words. "What was that?"

"I need you to make love to me, Brad. I'm on fire."

He dog ears the page he is on his book and sets it on the coffee table, turning to give you his full attention. His hands casually trace up your leg, massaging the tense muscles of your claves.

You let out a soft sigh at the feeling. A few moments later, Bradley crawls up your body, pressing soft kisses to your neck and then melding his lips to yours. You sigh into his mouth, enjoying the taste of him, trying to savor it. You pull off his reading glasses so they aren't in the way, haphazardly tossing them away.

When he starts to pull away, you wrap your arms around him, drawing him closer, not wanting any space between you. You trace one of your hands down his neck and under the collar of his shirt, tracing his shoulders, kissing him harder, slipping your tongue into his mouth.

"What has got you so needy, sweet girl?" He asks you, confused, pressing a few soft sweet kisses to your throat.

"Just you, handsome man," you tell him, trying to draw Bradley back to your lips. Bradley smiles, hearing your words but then shifts off you and the couch.

Before you can protest at his absence, he goes to pick you up. Like every time Bradley picks you up, you are hit with the worry that it will be the time he can't do it, or he will drop you, make heaving grunting sounds, or some other terrible mishap will come to pass. It doesn't, though; he secures you in his arms and starts to carry you through the house to your room.

You start pressing kisses to the readily presented column of his neck then. When he reaches your bed and goes to put you down, you sink your teeth into the space where his neck starts to curve into his shoulder. Although he lets out a hiss, you hadn't held back with the bite. You made it intending to mark him.

When he does set you down, you scramble hurriedly to start undressing him, desperate to see and feel the expanses of his golden skin. Unfortunately, you only get Brad out of his teeshirt before he stops you. His large hands close around your wrists, holding them tight, preventing them from moving further down, lower than the top of his abdomen.

"Slow down, pretty girl. We got all the time in the world," he says. You know, he said it to be soothing, but he didn't know how wrong he was. He didn't understand the finite amount of time you had left together.

So when he lets go of your wrist, you instead start to pull off your own clothes and settle yourself on the bed. You stare at him expectantly and let out the smallest huff.

"Slow down." He tells you again, "And, don't move your hands off the headboard," When he is satisfied with how you are holding it, he starts to kiss down your body.

"Why are you so worried?" he breaths out against your inner thigh, pressing feather-light kisses to the skin there. "You know I'm going to take care of you, my love. I always do. There's no reason to be so worried."

Bradley's words manage to hit the exact spot of comfort you are actually needing. Even though you are planning on leaving him. You still want him to take care of you; you want to do this with him. But, you also know that can't happen. So, regardless you feel more at ease; the desperation in you is not quite so hot, not making you jittery with need.

Bradley rewards the way your body relaxes by licking stripe over you. You resist the urge to let go of the headboard and bury your hands in Bradley's thick hair. The way he sucks your clit into his mouth to roll his tongue over makes you arch, needing more. Bradley lays his arm across your hips, applying pressure to keep you still under him.

The more you work to struggle against his arm, feeling your high edge closer and closer, a thought suddenly pops into your head. Is it still okay for Bradley to hold you down like this? Are you going to hurt your baby? It's an irrational thought, you know that, but your body instantly reacts to it. Of course, so early into your pregnancy, there is no reason this would be a problem, but you still drop your hips down onto the bed, no longer trying to move them against him. Your distraction pulled you far back from the edge.

You try to focus on the feel of Bradley's tongue and how warm he feels with his shoulders caged between your thighs. But only a few breaths later, Bradley is lifting his head to look at you.

He has a crease between his eyebrows, and his tongue that was just around you darts out to lick to own lips. "What just stopped you from coming?" he asks, concerned. His voice is thick and low. His hold over your waist disappears as he draws soothing circles on your hip. Bradley's concern draws you back to him and into the want you have for him.

You let go of the headboard and stretch out your arms. Then, burying your hands in his hair, you tilt Brad's face to fully meet your eyes.

"Make love to me, Bradley," you beg him. He stares at you for a very long minute, and you stare back at him, waiting. Finally, he pulls his eyes away from yours and stares at your center in front of him.

"As you wish," he mutters the words. Rooster pulls himself off the bed and pulls his sweats off. You drag your eyes over his naked body, taking him all in. You lick your lips at the sight.

"You are breathtaking, Brad," you tell him. That smile that melts your heart shows up on his face, and he glows under your praise.

You crawl to the edge of the bed and trace your hands up his muscular thighs. You guide your hand upwards. You brush over his cock, not really giving it any attention, before outlining his side, watching his stomach and abs contract under your fingers. You go slowly, trying to memorize the feel of his skin under you. You kiss along his chest too.

He leans down and captures your lips. You kiss Rooster back, glad that the fervor has left your body, but you are no less desperate for him. The desire to memorize him doesn't go.

You urge him onto the bed, pushing him on his back. You straddle Bradley, settling over him, with his cock nestled in between your lower lips. You give a small rock, his head bumping into your clit. You moan a little and repeat the motion.

Leaning forward, you rest your hands on his chest to give you more leverage. Rooster moves his hips with you increasing the friction. The pace is slow and almost teasing for both of you.

Shifting your weight, you lean and kiss him again. Bradley's tongue slips into your mouth, running against yours. One of his hands comes up and rests on your hip, urging you, pulling you further down to rub against him harder. His other hand cups one of your breasts, his thumb running over your nipple in swirling strokes.

You break his embrace just to reach your hand and guide him inside. Bradley lets out a heavy sigh as he slips into you. You resist the urge to slide all the way down his length, keeping it slow.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he tells you, biting his lips.

"Love how you fill me, Brad," you sigh once he is fully hilted. Both of you are breathing more elevated. When you start to move your hips again, Bradley closes his eyes and presses his head back into the bed.

You immediately stop moving, glaring down at him. "No," you say, and his eyes open instantly, looking at you again. You reach up a hand to grip his chin affectionately, holding his face in place. "I need to see you."

"You are so beautiful," he tells you. Bradley does as you want and doesn't break eye contact again.

The room is filled with both of your moanings as you work together at a slow, steady pace. The way his hands run along your skin and back is almost reverent. The heat in you starts to build again. You grind down hard onto Bradley so that your clit gets more stimulation.

Rooster's right hand comes around and settles on your lower stomach, applying pressure and letting his thumb dip down to brush your clit in light strokes. You gasp, a moan breaking from your throat. You freeze on top of Bradley's cock, enjoying the zing his thumb just sent up your spine.

"That's right. So good." Bradley moans out, pressing his thumb harder into you. Even though he is filling you so deliciously, you don't feel close enough to him. You feel like you want to crawl into his skin. That would be the only thing that would satisfy your need for him.

You grab his hand that isn't on your clit and thread your fingers together. His hand grips yours back. Bradley doesn't make any movement to shift either of your hips, content to play with your clit and stare into your eyes.

"Fuck, I love you." Bradley groans out, biting his lower lip. You start to rock your hips into his again, but for the most part, keeping him fully hilted inside you. You almost feel like you are drowning in his eyes with how he looks up at you. His heavy-lidded gaze makes you clench around him.

Your moans and quiet pants mix with his. The tension in you grows as you swirl your hips into his.

"Need this, need you." Bradley swirls his thumb a little harder and does break eye contact to nip your neck, sitting more up on the bed to get a better angle. Having more of your skin pressed together helps ease more of the ache in you.

You grip his hair again, pulling him up, shifting, so you are chest to chest. Bradley's free hand clutches you close to him. You trace the scars on his cheek with your lips before kissing him again.

"I love you," you sigh against his mouth. He groans and rocks his hips into yours, creating a bit more friction. Rooster understands just what you need, not pulling out of you.

The two of you build a rhythm together; finally, you can't hold back anymore. The bubble in you bursts, and you clench hard around Bradey's cock. Bradley takes a few more gasping breaths and then cums in you with a low moan. Bradley starts to move like he is going to pull out of you, so you whine and hold him closer.

"No, no. I need you closer," you tell him. You are still desperate to have him near. You press your nose into Rooster's neck, breathing in his natural musky scent. Trying to absorb the smell entirely, memorizing it before biting the skin and tasting it.

"Woah. Woah," Bradley says breathily. You let out a low hum in response, trying to savor his sounds as well. You wiggle your hips against him again, where he is still half hard. You consciously clench around his dick, reminding yourself how full Bradley makes you.

"Baby, stop," he says. Rooster's voice is wrecked, and his large hands hold your hips still. At first, you don't even hear his request until he repeats it more forcefully. Then he rolls you over onto your back and pulls out of you quickly. You gasp at the sudden loss of him. You have to lay there for a moment, trying to reorient yourself. Bradley is sitting on the edge of the bed, panting hard, his hands on his knees.

"Bradley?" You croak out, reaching a hand hesitantly towards him. He looks back at you, and his face is a mix of panicked and furious.

"What the fuck was that?" He asks you in a low growl.

"What was what?"

"Don't bullshit me."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," you tell him, drawing your eyebrows close together.

"That was was goodbye sex," he says slowly. Your mouth drops open, and you try to reach around your rattling brain to come up with an answer, an excuse. However, you find it completely empty.

"That was the exact kind of sex we have before I leave and deploy. You had the same look." Bradley was almost shaking, and you had no idea what to say that wouldn't be a lie.

"What's going on? Something has been wrong for weeks. I keep waiting for you to talk to me, and you fucking haven't."

"I —" you start to say, but Bradley's eyes are so captivating, so genuine, you can't lie to him. So before you even know what you are saying, the words fall out of your mouth, "I'm leaving."

Rooster physically recoils at your words. The line of his back is taut, and his eyebrows draw together. His mouth presses into a tight line. His jaw flexing, and you can tell he is clenching his teeth. "What did I do wrong?"

"No, sweetie," you say quickly. "It's not you. It's me." You tell him gently. It was you, well, you and this baby, but Brad didn't need to know that. Your words only seemed to make him more upset.

"Are you kidding me? You didn't just say that." He mutters it under his breath, pulling at his short curls in frustration and glaring at you. He is so tense the veins in his bicep and neck start to pop.

"I'm sorry," you offer him quietly.

"I don't want to hear sorry. I want to hear a reason. Were you going to tell me? Or just planning to disappear?"

"Of course, I was going to tell you."

"When?"

"Soon."

"Why? "

"I can't..."

"No. I think I deserve to know why the love of my life is leaving me," Bradley says, frustrated. He stands up from bed, goes to his drawers, and pulls on some boxers to throw on. He also grabs one of his old Sigma Pi shirts out of his drawer and throws it for you to shrug on.

You felt shame and frustration building in you. You didn't want to deal with this situation right now. You didn't want to have to tell Bradley why. Then to your absolute horror, and probably the hormones coursing through you, you burst into tears.

Bradley's pacing halts for a moment at the sight of your tears, but then he resumes momentarily as he balls his fist tight. His knuckles turning a paler shade.

"We want different things." You gasp out between the sobs racking your body.

"We want different things," he repeats slowly, like he is trying to piece out some hidden meaning in the words.

"Yes," you hiccup nodding your head.

"How could that be possible?" He questions you sharply. "If that were the case, we wouldn't have gotten married. And you didn't mention anything when we had our last relationship check-in."

Bradley was big on communication. He insisted y'all have seasonal relationship check-ins with each other to talk about anything that had happened and how you were feeling about your relationship. This conversation should have probably been reserved for the next one, but you couldn't wait a few more weeks before leaving, or Bradley would know.

You were going to start showing at some point; while all the articles you read were inconsistent about when that might happen, it would happen eventually. You knew it would probably be impossible to leave Rooster if he knew that you were pregnant. Every moment with him weakened your resolve to do the right thing.

"Things change, people change." You weakly tell him. Not able to conceive a better excuse.

"I don't understand why you are jumping into leaving me. Baby, why won't you talk to me?" Bradley suddenly dropped hard to his knees on the wood floor at the side of the bed. You winced at the sound it made. He pulls one of your hands into both of his. "Please talk to me," he begs you, holding your hand delicately in his. The puppy dog look Bradley has mastered coming out in full force.

"I can't…"

"You can," he reassures you, swiping a thumb across your pulse point. You felt your stomach roll, the emotions in you going haywire.

"I'm…" you trail off and then shake your head at him in denial of this situation. As soon as you tell Bradley, it will be over.

"It's okay, baby. Anything. You can tell me anything. Talk to me. I won't be mad," he adds on for your benefit. Your plans all crumbled at that moment because how can you deny Bradley Bradshaw anything when he begs for it.

"I'm pregnant," you finally whisper in a barely audible voice. With how Bradley reacted to your words, you might as well have screamed them. First, he flinches like a whole body flinch. Every muscle you can see tensing. He shutters and his grip on your hand tightens to where it is almost painful.

Bradley freezes like that for a moment, blinking at you owlishly, before he drops his head down, hiding his face from your view. Finally, he presses his face down into the bed.

You wait with bated breath. Rooster's grip on your hand didn't lessen in the slightest. You feel panic settle in the back of your throat when his shoulders start to tremble, and he still hasn't said anything.

"Bradley?" You flex your hand, resisting his tight grip, and he releases you. His hands fall limply on the bed. He still hasn't looked at you, though.

Tears start to streak down your face faster, and a small sob hitches in your throat. "I am sorry," you tell him sincerely.

"Are you really?" His low voice asks muffled.

"Sorry, or pregnant?" You ask pulling up the collar of his shirt you are wearing to wipe away some of your tears. "Because it's both."

His hands come to clasp themselves together, and you briefly wonder if he is praying. The shaking of his shoulders and the inability to see his face make it increasingly impossible to understand his reaction.

Finally, he looks at you, and those hazel eyes bleed back at you, tears still falling down his face staining his cheeks a bright red even through the healthy tan he has right now. Bradley's eyes trace over your face looking like he is searching for any trace of a lie. Then he examines your body under his shirt like he might already see a difference.

As if there was a difference, he would be able to notice now that he didn't notice before when you were naked, and he was inside of you. You wrap your arms around your chest, hugging yourself under his scrutiny.

"I'm going to keep it." You finally tell him now that Bradley's shining eyes are available for scrutiny again. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his face falls into a frown. "I'm sorry," you say again.

You try to think of the right words to explain yourself to him. "When I found out, I realized I wanted this. I know we always said we didn't. But I really want this baby, Bradley. I am sorry I kept it from you. I just didn't know how to tell you. And then I saw these baby shoes in the store. They were so cute." Your fingers knot into the edge of the worn frat shirt you are wearing. His hazel eyes aren't giving you much to go off of. They are still darting around your face like he is trying to figure out what you are telling him.

Brad abruptly stands up in the middle of your rambling. So, you halt your words. Watching him as he walks out of the room. You strain your ears, trying to listen to where he went. You hear the hallway door open and beeps coming from the safe. After hearing it click open and seal again, Bradley's feet can be heard on the hallway floor again.

Your mind runs, trying to think of what he could have grabbed from the safe. Your important documents? You silently make a note that was something that you need to be sure to pack. You wouldn't want to come back to Bradley to get your passport or something after leaving. Could it be money? Was he going to give you money to leave with and give you some of the cash you two had been saving to move?

The thoughts make breathing extra hard, and you start to suck air in and out rapidly. The panic floods your veins, making the walls of the room shrink inward towards you. Sharp tingles prick at your fingertips and toes.

Before you can run through any other possible scenario, he gets back.

You can't focus on Bradley enough to see him through the black that starts to edge in at the corner of your vision. You desperately try to pull a gasping breath in your chest. The action of breathing is suddenly too overwhelming.

The panic of what you had just done finally cutting into you. That Bradley now knew the secrets you had been harboring so close to your chest. There is wringing in your ears, the shuddering wracking your body. You curl into yourself to try and shield yourself from the hurt and panic ringing through your body.

Then, you are engulfed. There isn't enough weight on the outside of you to combat the storm of panic that was trying to burst out from the inside of your veins. Numbness fills your body, and you know you are close to passing out. The storm brewed inside you, desperate to escape your body, desperate to take you out at the same time.

Heaving in breaths gets harder and more difficult. You dig your nails hard into the skin of your thighs, trying to scramble for anything to steady yourself. Fighting each desperate moment when there is s shift.

At first, you don't know what has changed. However, your breaths get a gasp longer, allowing slightly more oxygen, and the black in your vision starts to recede. You slam your eyes shut at the nausea you feel. The more air you can finally take in, the more you are allowed to start making sense of anything besides your own haywire body.

You are wrapped in your weighted blanket, and the extra pressure is aided by Bradley. He is holding you tight within his arms and legs, and he has you pulled close to his chest.

His legs are wrapped around your hips and crossed in front of you. Giving the front of your body room. Your legs are trapped between you two. One of his arms is crossed over your chest, and the other is petting your head soothingly, playing with your hair occasionally.

Bradley is humming to you. You try and focus on the tune. It's like a lifeline; you cling to the sound, letting it help your thoughts trail away from your panic. You keep trying to breathe bigger, longer breaths consciously now.

It's a tune you have heard before. Finally, Bradley breaks from the humming, whispering one of the lyrics into your ear, and you can immediately place the song.

"Love of my life," he mutters lowly into your ear, and then he returns to his humming. You are flashed back to a different time he sang this song to you.

He had been perched on the bench of a piano. Fingers gliding over the keys in time, his sweet voice dipping between octaves. It was Love Of My Life, by Queen. It is the song Bradley sings to you before every single deployment.

The song feels like a confirmation that you two will not be making it. A confirmation he is letting you go. This is the song that always fills the space between you when parting ways. The small semblance of recovery you had made is gone. Your breaths start to quicken again as you are dragged back into the panic.

Bradley's arms flex hard, and there is slightly more pressure around you. The beads of the weighted blanket shifting under his hands. He continues humming the song, but this time he peppers in a few more of the lyrics.

"Love of my life, don't leave me," he croons softly into your ear.

You don't know how long Bradley holds you waiting for you to calm down. You don't ever feel at ease, but the slow breaths and Bradley's soothing voice help bring you down from the high and worst of the panic attack.

You manage to let out a little whimper, and Bradley's arms start to loosen around you in slow intervals. You turn your face to the side, slotting your eyes up to catch a glimpse of him. Bradley has his eyes closed, and his face is splotchy and red from crying still. You fill in some of the lyrics to his humming in a cracked, barely there voice. Those beautiful eyes flash open, hearing your voice join his humming.

He won't stop humming, though. Rooster's hazel eyes are so intense, a medusas snare, that even as hard as you try to close your eyes, you aren't successful. They have captivated you entirely. Bradley finishes humming the song and lets his arms slip from around you. His legs uncross, and they fall flat on the bed on either side of you.

You push the weighted blanket off your top, so it is pilled around your legs as you ease out of your curled position.

"BradBrad," you whisper for him. You are still trembling at the very tips of your fingers. The buzz and tingles at the front of your nose are still persistent, but feeling has returned to the rest of your body. The needles fade out of your hands and legs.

"Love of my life," he hums sweetly again. His eyes have a tiny bit of worry, but for the most part, they are full of love and adoration for you. His body is borderline hot to the touch and feverish behind you. His heart is thumping loudly under your ear.

Brad's now loose hands find new purchase, gliding over your hips, tracing slow, steady circles. Then his left hand starts creeping forward further. Bradley's large hand is suddenly under his shirt and splaying out flat against your lower belly. That is where it finds its perch.

You gasp at the feeling of his hand, at the placement of it. Brad's fingers make the tiniest indents pressing into your skin. Your breath hitches at his squeeze. The metal of his wedding ring is warm against your skin, a nice contrast to the rest of his hand.

Hearing the way your breath hitches, Bradley immediately lays his hand fully flat. Bradley now retreating to a feather-light touch. His fingers swirl in an unknown pattern on your skin. His hands like to trace the shapes of flight paths he has memorized.

It was something Bradley had confessed to you one night during pillow talk. The two of you sprawled together. You were laying half on his chest. His fingertips were tracing the length of your spine, in feather-light trials, moving from the base of your spine to the small of your back, then following the path again. His fingers would sometimes brush into your hair and give small scratches before tracing your flesh again.

"How do you do that?" You finally had asked him.

"Do what?" He responded, but something about the glint in his eye told you he knew exactly what you were referring to. Rooster just wanted you to admit it out loud.

"You are so consistent, but you keep me on my toes." Bradley's hand stills where it had been gliding on your back. Then he started to trace once more, but this time his fingers making small movements and taking on a new drag like pattern dancing across your back.

"Is that right?" He asked you, but there was a full-blown boyish smirk donning his face.

You nodded your head, licking your lips. The tingles that his hands were sending through your body started to warm you up even after just having finished with him. "Yes, it rocks my world. So, why don't you let me on the secret?"

"I'm just that good, baby," he told you cheekily.

"Bradley Bradshaw." You warned lowly.

"It's flight paths."

"What?"

"I use the flight paths I have memorized," his fingers danced in a looping motion doubling back and then tracing forward again.

"They make it easy to loop, but it's long enough that there is different pacing, or I use the piano," He told you, letting his fingers tap and shift along your back as if it was a set of ivories suddenly. It had made you giggle.

"That might have been one of the sexiest things you have ever told me, Bradley." You had told him before you kissed him silly. And letting him showcase those skills with his tongue for the second time that night.

Now, Brad's hand that is lying against your stomach also starts to follow a pattern. You open your mouth, but Bradley quickly cuts you off.

"Please, don't say sorry."

"But I am."

"That was a bad attack."

It was true that you hadn't had one that severe in a while. "I'm—"

"Do not say sorry," he repeats. You sigh heavily and move to stop leaning against Bradley. However, he doesn't let you. The hand on your hip and lower abdomen fighting you and drawing you flush against him. He settles you, so you are comfortably leaning against his chest again.

"I am sorry," Brad finally says, almost a whisper in your ear.

"You are sorry?"

"Yes."

"Why?" You question him. Not sure you understand what he is apologizing for.

"Why are you going to leave me?" Brad asks instead of answering your question.

You sigh and close your eyes. You lean your head back, so it's settled on Bradley's shoulder. Then take a deep calming breath before responding. "I know you don't want kids. You have always been very honest about that, and it's not your fault I'm pregnant.

"Well, I don't think you went and got pregnant by yourself. It's kind of a process that takes two contributing parties. Unless you are going to tell me that it's someone else's." Bradley says the words so incredulously that you know he has no doubt the baby is his.

"I know you don't want this, but I realized I do."

"What if I do want this?"

"I'm not going to let you do this just because you feel obligated, Bradley," you tell him tiredly.

"No. I want this."

"How could that be?" You ask.

You feel him shift behind you, and you open your eyes to see what he is doing. Bradley is reaching to the bedside table where you see a huge binder sitting.

It is a binder that you know well. Bradley is a meticulous and organized person. He likes to refer to this binder as your Life Plan Binder. It was full of timelines, dates, references, and lists. Everything Bradley feels is necessary for y'all's life.

You realize that this one is different from the one that lives on his desk. It is slimmer, and the front doesn't have a picture of the two of you slotted in the cover that the other did.

"The LPB?" You ask him, confused.

His left hand makes itself at home again on your lower abdomen, while his right hand puts the binder on your lap. Finally, you read the cover where it says alternative plans in bold lettering.

"I'm sorry I left earlier, but I needed to get this." He mutters into your ear. Brad's tone is deeply apologetic. He flips the binder open, and there are labeled tabs. You fully realize this is a binder you have never seen before. You scan the tabs and freeze up in Bradley's hold when you see the one he is thumbing to.

It is towards the back, behind the different tabs, including restations, health, new cars, vacations, and retirement, is a tab that has a simple label. It's blue and just says, baby. Bradley flips to the tab, and you see the cover page of the section with the table of contents. In bold at the top of the page, you read Baby Bradshaw.

A sob that ends up coming out as a broken laugh ripping from your chest. The section contents was filled out with thoroughly thought out plans on you having children, from a section with important timelines, appointments to schedule, college savings plans, and a section with boys' and girls' names that he likes.

You bring one of your hands up to stifle the sobs that are bubbling in your chest. You hold your hand close over your mouth to try to hold back the sound. His fingers traced over the page and the table of contents for the section.

"What is this?" You finally ask him.

"It's my alternate life plan binder. For you know, if other things come up."

"Why do you have a Baby Bradshaw section?" You hesitantly ask. His hand is still warm against your stomach, and he flexes his fingers.

"Well, a while ago, I started thinking about kids," he trails off, and you start looking through the table of contents again. You see that the most robust and largest section is actually related to adoption. You feel your heart melt in your chest. A new bright feeling of hope blossoms looking at the care, time, and thought he has put into this. As he continues, "and well… You know how I am. I wanted to be prepared for that possibility."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I've been ruminating, and I don't know. Maybe I would have mentioned it at our next check-in. But I knew you don't…" Bradley doesn't finish his sentence, and you lose your mind a little bit.

You pull the large binger up into your hands and shift. You struggle and move until you turn in his grip. Your legs wrapped around Brad's waist. You want to see his face, which is easier in this position. The hand that had been placed on your stomach curls around your back and waist, steadying you against him.

"You changed your mind?" You ask him. You let your hands trace over his chest, settling on cupping his face. Then, staring into his eyes, you look for any trace of anger or deceit.

"You seem to also have changed your mind, baby," he takes the binder from where it was awkwardly pressed in between you two. It allows you to settle closer to him. Bradley sets the binder to the side, momentarily breaking eye contact to make sure none of the pages are creased. Your chests were almost flush together. You wrap your arms around his neck, and then he is the one to hold your face. His eyes reconnect with yours, and you once again feel like you are caught in them.

The intensity and openness in his gaze make your lips move faster than your brain to lay out the whole truth for him. "I don't think that I ever wanted to not have kids. I had just accepted it because I knew that I couldn't." You explain, not breaking eye contact. Bradley's thumb traces a slow circle against your cheek.

"I would never let you do this by yourself."

"I can't just throw a wrench like this in your life, Brad."

He immediately starts shaking his head in protest. "It's our life. I'm not going to lie to you and say that you didn't hurt my feelings. If you left me," Bradly heaves a heavy shaky breath. You briefly wonder if he is going to cry again. Then he continues to explain, "I would be broken… shattered. I feel even worse that you didn't want to talk to me or tell me."

You can tell how deeply you hurt him. Even though you knew what you were going to do was wrong, now that you and Bradley are talking about it. You know you need to try and explain your rationale no matter how messed up it was.

"At first, I wasn't sure how I felt. I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't do that before I knew how I felt. But then I kept thinking about all the times we talked about you not wanting kids. How you had so many good, valid reasons for feeling that way. I know you, Bradley. I knew that you would do the right thing as soon as I told you. But you don't need obligation ruling anymore of your life that it already does."

"So what if I was obligated? I agreed to be obligated to you for the rest of our lives when we got married. I want to be bound to you. I want to shoulder your burdens, just like you shoulder mine," Bradley says.

"A child is a lifelong burden for you to shoulder," you say. You need to know, need to be fully sure Brad understands.

"Do you think so low of me? Do you think I wouldn't love something that was a mix of you and me?"

"There are plenty of people in the world who don't love their children." You tell him, swallowing hard.

He lets out a long sigh, his breath fanning a bit over your face. "I want this baby. I want this baby with you. I want to be at every doctor's appointment. I want to know everything I've missed. I want family vacations where I can buy a Hawaiian shirt in three different sizes for all of us. I want little league games. I want a baby to sing to sleep. I want someone to put on top of the piano and sing to like my dad did. I want us to paint a nursery. I want Disney trips. I want to fight about curfew. I want to make breakfast on Saturdays and spend Sundays in the shop with football, restoring a beat-up first car. I want to make dad jokes. Fuck, I need to buy a pair of new balances."

Warmth fills you at his words. You let out a small laugh picturing Bradley as a stereotypical dad. How he wants all of that with you. That you won't do this alone like you have mentally been preparing yourself for since finding out. You run your fingers up and down his neck trailing it down his shoulder as far as you can reach before tracing back to his neck. A content sigh falls from his lips, and his eyes close, enjoying your gentle caresses.

"What are some of the names?" You break the silence after his confessions.

"I like Westley," he says with a small boyish smile. You bite back a grin at the name, playfully rolling your eyes.

"Oh, and is Buttercup on your list for girl names?" You ask him teasingly.

"Maybe," he says. You lean forward and peck his lips.

"You're not going to leave me," Bradley whispers with conviction. You know he is still coming down from the emotional roller coaster you just went through together. You also know Brad is going to need time to fully process this conversation and the change about to happen in your lives. However, you also know, without a doubt, that Bradley will be holding your hand at your next doctor's appointment.

"No, I'm not." You confirm and brush your lips over his softly.

"Stay with me forever," Bradley begs you in a voice a little too small for you to handle.

You hold the hazel gaze for a very, very long moment. You let him examine you, see the truth, and honestly bleeding in your gaze before you respond. What you want to say at first is: I love you. However, those words weren't quite right; they didn't seem to fully capture your intention and the emotion in your chest you felt for this man. So instead, you settle on the words you think will most closely allow him to understand. You brush your lips against him again, whispering your answer into them.

"As you wish, Bradley."

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw x y/n #hot 🥵#Coleys writing #bradley bradshaw fanfiction

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nana-mania · 1 year

Text

“HIS RED FLAGS” what does he do that make him an obvious red flag?

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ headcanon

࿐*ೃ feat : michael kaiser, sae itoshi, ryusei shidou, alexis ness

࿐*ೃ fandom : blue lock

࿐*ೃ extra : gn! reader, angst.

࿐*ೃ trigger warning : bodyshaming, profanities, manipulation, mention of intercourse, stalking, toxic relationship

MICHAEL KAISER

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ He is an arrogant and egocentric man, always bragging about himself on daily basis with you. Frequently, he belittles you and pressures you into improving yourself more. He wants to make sure you're worthy to stand next to him to maintain his distinguished image as German prodigy. Since he views himself as embodiment of perfection, you must be as perfect as him. Insulting your insecurities whenever you experience low self-esteem is his way to motivate you to better yourself.

“Stop eating that unhealthy junk. You will gain weight.”

“If you don't start working out and get rid of those fat, I'm gonna fucking dump you.”

“I don't care! Starve yourself to death or anything. If you still love me, then stop whining.”

SAE ITOSHI

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ Living in Spain for years and learning the harsh reality of life at such young age damages his emotional growth as a teenager. He grows up as an ignorant man who lacks empathy toward others' feelings, even his own significant other. Engaging in relationship with Sae is like one-sided love. It is only you who is always concerned about the relationship and strive hard to maintain a stable relationship. Sae, in the other hand, could care less of your feelings and emotions. Often being bluntly cruel and hurting your feelings, intentionally and unintentionally. His career as soccer player is his sole priority after all.

“Can't you see I'm tired? Leave me alone.”

“Why should I waste my energy and time on a stupid date? Just stay at home.”

“Stop being mean? I'm merely being honest. It's not my fault that you're too sensitive.”

RYUSEI SHIDOU

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ Ryusei is one manipulative partner, messing with your mind and emotions frighteningly often in order to force you to stay by his side despite how toxic the relationship is. He is selfish, obsessive and possessive. He makes you believe nobody else will love you as much as he does, even tricking your mind into believing he is the only one in this world who accept you as who you are. If breaking your mind is the only mean to turn you into an obedient doll for him, he will resort to such cruelty. He also despises talking things out when conflict brews up between you and him. To him, the sole way to make peace with you is through intercourse. He never force himself on you but he frequently seduces you into having sex as distraction to avoid having serious talk. You can never resist him and always submit yourself to him willingly. His words of temptation...is irresistible.

“Break up? There is no one better than me out there.”

“Oh, sweetheart...you can never find another person to love you. I'm the only one capable of doing so..”

“Have you forgotten? You're all alone, sweetheart. Who else will be by your side when you're at your lowest?”

ALEXIS NESS

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ Alexis has major trust issue and inferior complex. Often attempting to be the dominant one in the relationship by controlling you. He easily misunderstands your words or action. He unhealthily believes his words as the only truth, frequently coming up with his own speculation and accuses you of mistakes you never commit. Once he loses his mind, he becomes quite violent yet he tries to resist himself from hurting you physically. He usually suppresses himself by throwing objects on the floor to relieve his anger and warning you. However, sometime he only verbally attacks you by comparing you to other people; specifically his exes. Considering his trust issue is extremely severe, he stalks on you whenever you go out with your friends or by yourself.

“What? You want to see your friend? What's wrong with staying home with me all day? Have you lost your feelings toward me?”

“Who the fuck is that bastard with you earlier? Are you cheating on me?!”

“Shut the hell up. Why the hell are you like this? All my exes are not as annoying as you.”

࿐*ೃ thanks for reading this headcanon! likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated ♡

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five-bi-five-mind · 7 months

Text

Too Soft

Fandom: Station 19/Grey’s Anatomy

Pairing: Carina DeLuca x female!reader

Genre: Hurt & Comfort, Angst, Smut

Words: 6.3k+

Summary: Carina is not coping well with the loss of her brother. She’s barely sleeping or eating and she refuses to let you comfort her. All she wants is some sense of control to come back into her life and all you can think is to offer her whatever she needs, no matter what that sense of control may look like.

Warnings: talk of grief; loss of family member; mention of canon character death; rough sex; semi-angry sex; fingering (r receiving); biting; marking; multiple orgasms; overstimulation

A/N: I do not know where this even came from but uh… here y’all go. Idk honestly how I feel about this one lol

This was a new dynamic. Never had you not been soft with each other. Ever since you met, that’s how your relationship went. It’s what you both needed, you were a trauma nurse and she was an OB. Two different things in a sense, sure, but both of you often saw hard situations. Not every patient was a breeze, there was so much struggle, so much loss, even in both cases.

So when you two met you needed softness and she gave it to you. She needed softness too, after all. So your love was gentle and tender. It always had been from the start. The way you both fell in love was fast, but in so many ways you two also took your time. Carina cherished you in every single moment she spent with you and you tried to reciprocate that. With every touch, you could see just how much appreciation she had for every single part of you and with every kiss, you tried to show her just how all-encompassing your love for her was.

In the year and a half that you two had been together, that feeling was consistent between the two of you. There were hard days, just like everyone else, but you two would talk through it and fall into bed in each other’s arms by the end of every evening. But when things suddenly changed for Carina, you were floundering.

It was all so sudden. A whirlwind incident that ended in unexpected tragedy for your girlfriend. Carina lost her brother and as a result, you had somehow lost her. She stayed with you, it wasn’t that you physically lost her. It was just that she had suddenly become so emotionally shut off. Although, as she skulked around the apartment looking half alive, you sometimes felt like you lost her physically too. But, for the most part, it was on an emotional level that Carina was just… absent.

You didn’t expect her to bounce back right away, of course. Grieving takes time and you understood that quite well. But then one month turned into two and then three and then four and suddenly you were rounding on five months of sharing a home with a husk of the woman you loved. In all of this, you tried your best to help too. You begged and pleaded to do anything to assist her in her grieving process. If she wanted space, you’d give it. If she wanted you, she could have it. Whatever she could possibly need you’d make sure she got. Except, she would just shrug off any of your offered comfort and help. It happened so often as the days went on that eventually the only thing you could do was back off.

And that’s where the dynamic got messier. If you backed off, she would come looking for you. Telling you she didn’t want space, so why were you giving it to her when you asked and she said no? Maybe she was picking a fight on purpose, but you’d never let it get to the point of yelling. You’d just sigh and agree to stay with her, but when that happened she couldn’t look you in the eye. She wanted you near– at least that’s what she said, but any time you simply sat next to her it was like you were doing it wrong. You didn’t know how to fix that or how to be near her in the way she wanted.

It wasn’t even this new, uncomfortable dynamic that made things the hardest. No, it was the way Carina just was. Seeing her, this incredibly strong woman, seem so broken. It broke you too. She was hurting to the extent that it felt like the woman you once knew would never come back. Carina was always your advocate for self-care when you had a hard day, but she wasn’t following any of her own advice.

When was the last time she even really slept? You often caught her in the weirdest places, curled up on the floor, staring blankly, rather than resting or even crying. It was scaring you. For a few weeks this behavior was understandable, you told yourself it would pass and you’d let her do what she needed as she grieved. But now it’s been months and the sleep deprivation had to have been hurting her on a physical level too. Not to mention the fact that she barely ate now. She was looking quite literally dead on her feet and the absent look in her eye was making it harder and harder for you to stay silent to her grieving process.

You tried to tell the people around her, tried to ask them about what to do, but many didn’t have much to say. We all grieve differently, she just lost her brother, or it takes time were the three most common phrases you were met with. At first you agreed, but now you were getting sick of hearing it. It wasn’t that you were impatient to have your girlfriend back or that you couldn’t handle caring for her in her time of grieving, it was that your concern for her was causing you to be literally worried sick.

The final straw to break your silence happened when you woke up to the other side of the bed cold and empty at the late hour of one in the morning. You had told Carina you would really like it if she came to bed not too long after you and pleaded with her to actually join you for once. Not for anything but rest, of course, but still you just wanted to have her next to you again. She had half acknowledged you and you sighed, but took that for now as you trudged off to bed. Randomly, you had woken up to reach for Carina, only for your hand to hit the mattress. Why you had hoped that tonight she would finally try to get a proper amount of sleep in the bed you shared, you weren’t sure. Regardless, it was the breaking point for you.

You threw the covers off of you, creeped down the hall of your apartment, and saw the bathroom door was cracked with the light on. Gently, you opened the door and stepped in to find where Carina was hiding. What you saw was a new sight: Carina curled up on the shower floor, fully clothed with the shower off and completely dry.

“Carina?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, trying to be as gentle as possible as you knelt down in front of her. “Carina, what are you doing in here?”

She didn’t answer. Her tired eyes just flicked up to you before dropping back down. You watched as she hugged her knees tighter to her chest and you sighed. “Carina, come on,” you reached out for her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“No,” she shook her head. “No, no…”

“Carina–”

“Everything,” she mumbled. “Everything is just too– It’s too soft.”

“Okay…” Your voice was hesitant, questioning. You didn’t want to judge her. If this was still part of her grieving process you’d ride it out with her, but it was tiptoeing into unhealthy territory. She hasn’t slept, she’s barely ate, there was a growing dread in your stomach whenever she passed you in the hall, eyes devoid of any emotion, her face stuck twisted in that pained expression she’s kept on for weeks. You were worried she was going to exhaust herself to death, that her lack of sleep and energy would see her collapsing if she tried to work, or do anything really. On top of that, she was carrying so much of this blame and loss inside herself, even if what happened to her brother was by no means her fault. It was too much for her, she wasn’t able to let it out. She was grieving, sure, but was she actually processing it all? Your heart ached to help, but you felt powerless. There was no way to take on her pain if she didn’t let you.

“I- I can’t just be comfortable. If I’m comfortable, I’ll cry and I’ve been crying for weeks. I can’t cry anymore. I-” Carina’s voice broke and she cut herself off, shaking her head hard. “No. No, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Carina…” You scooted closer to her, your hands slipping into her own. “Please,” you urged. She needed some of this off her shoulders, she needed to let herself rest.

“I’m sorry, bambina.” Carina’s hands slowly withdrew from yours and you knew she saw the hurt look in your eyes. You couldn’t stop yourself. Maybe it was selfish, but you wanted some of her back. An ounce of contact that told you she would come back to you. She could grieve all she wanted, for as long as it took, as long as it wasn’t forever. But there was a fear in you, one that said maybe she would never forgive herself, even if it wasn’t her fault. If she didn’t forgive herself, you didn’t think you’d ever see Carina’s bright smile again. The thought shook you to your core. “It’s too soft.”

Those words cracked at your heart. There had to be something, anything you could do. If she can’t handle soft, what can she handle? All you knew was how to be gentle with her, the way she always is with you. “We need to take some of this blame off you,” you begged. “What can we– What can I do? Blame me, you can blame me. Just anything, Carina, please.”

Carina was continuously shaking her head, her eyes glistening with tears she refused to shed. “No, it’s not about blame. It’s not that. I’m angry, bambina. Not at you, not at anyone, not even at myself, but at the world. I don’t understand it– I don’t know how to stop this feeling. I feel like my emotions are out of control, everything is slipping through my fingers. Everything feels out of control. Bambina, you can’t help.”

“What can then?” You weren’t going to give up on this. Right here, right now, you were going to do whatever you could to alleviate some of this from Carina. If you didn’t find a way tonight, something told you, you’d never get the Carina you once knew back. “Things feel out of control, right? What can we do to get some back? I’ll do anything you need, just name it.”

Carina kept shaking her head, rubbing at her eyes angrily to fight off the tears she didn’t want to shed. “I don’t want to take what I’m feeling out on you, bambina.” Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment as she took a deep breath. “That’s not healthy.”

“And this is?” You didn’t mean to raise your voice, but you were at your wit’s end. “Does this look healthy? You haven’t slept for days and you’re curled up on the bathroom floor for god’s sake!”

Carina didn’t say anything to that. Her eyes fell and her face went practically emotionless. All that did was build up your frustration more. Not at her, but at everything. At your powerlessness to help her. At the fact that she lost someone who meant so much to her. At how unfair the world was to the woman who deserved the best.

“Carina,” you continued, “you want control then we’re going to get some back. This—“ you motioned to where she was curled up on the shower floor, “—is not good for you. Take your control back, even if it’s in a small aspect. Just take it.”

Your eyes burned from frustration tears threatening to spill, but this wasn’t about you. You wouldn’t allow yourself to cry. Not when you knew you needed to give Carina that space to do so. “Give me this blame, put the anger on me. Just do it for now. All I’m asking is that for tonight you just try.”

Carina looked back up at you now. You could see from the look on her face that she was seriously taking in everything you were saying. In her mind, she was calculating what her next move was. She so desperately wanted you in her arms, but one moment of gentleness would surely make her break apart all over again and she was struggling to put those pieces back together on her own.

She did want to feel in control. She wanted to get back to the place she was in when she first met you. Where she could be your comforting and strong girlfriend, the one who was soft only for you. Now, anything remotely soft set her off and she found herself wallowing, not just in grief, but in self loathing too. Carina’s emotions were so scattered, she didn’t know if she could ever control them enough to be what she once was for you again. That thought alone terrified her just as much as it did you.

But she had to try, right? For you at least. If she couldn’t hold you like she wanted to, then she could do the alternative. Something inside her told her, if she did touch you in some way– in any sort of way, it would ground her. It might even mend a small piece of her. It couldn’t be soft; she couldn’t handle soft. But here you were, telling her to take it out on you, even if it’s just for one night. Her mind argued with itself. One side was trying to give in to everything you were saying and the other was wary of being anything other than gentle and loving to you. Though, after a moment, her decision was made.

“Meet me in the bedroom,” Carina’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Carina, what…” You trailed off, your eyes searching hers for some sort of answer. You said you wanted to do whatever it took to make her feel better, but you didn’t expect that response.

“Please.”

That was all you needed to hear to let any question you had on the tip of your tongue die. Without another second of hesitation you stood up. Carina didn’t immediately do the same, but she told you to meet her in the bedroom and that was what you were going to do. You walked out the bathroom without saying much more. What would you even say? The confusion was pretty clear in your eyes when you looked back at Carina after she made her request. You figured you’d learn what her intentions were in due time. Whatever it was, you weren’t going to go back on your word.

You sat yourself on the edge of the bed you shared and waited anxiously, picking at an invisible piece of fuzz as you waited for Carina to come in. She took a moment before she followed you. When she stood up from where she had curled up in the shower to look herself over in the mirror, she finally saw just how wrecked she really looked.

Before she followed you in, she decided to take a moment to clean herself up. Splashing water on her face to wash away the few dried tears that had shed helped a little, but she still looked exhausted. Her skin was more pale than she had ever seen it, and she could tell from the dark circles under her eyes that she was severely lacking a good night’s rest. Still, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. At least maybe what she had planned to try with you might make that seem a little more attainable, but she had doubts.

Carina didn’t even know if you’d accept what she was planning. She knew you meant it when you said you’d take on whatever pain she was willing to unburden herself with, but she still was unsure about this. She just really needed some sense of control and somewhere in her grief-warped mind she thought if she could have an ounce of control over you then maybe she’d be able to grapple with some sort of control over her emotions. At the very least, it would give her a chance to have her hands on you in a way that wasn’t too soft for her.

Slipping her clothes off and pulling on her bathrobe, she took one more look at herself in the mirror. This wasn’t exactly the alluring look she wanted, but that wasn’t what she was going for. She nodded to herself, trying to keep a grip on her resolve to try this before she chickened out and ran back to her not-so-cozy corner of the shower. Creeping up to the bedroom, she peaked in to see that you were still perched nervously on the edge. Her heart ached for the anxiety and confusion she knew she was causing in you, but she didn’t really know how to stop herself from causing that either. Maybe, just maybe, after tonight some of this pain would ease for the both of you. It was worth a shot, even if Carina highly doubted it.

“Bambina.” Carina’s voice broke through the uncomfortable silence you were sitting in. Your head immediately snapped up to see her standing in the doorway.

She took one step towards you, then two and you felt yourself getting more anxious by the second. At the moment you saw her standing there in her robe, you began to piece together what she had in mind; what she was going to ask of you. There were so many nights when you’d make love to Carina, each one full of tenderness and love. While there might be love in what was going to transpire tonight, you knew the tenderness would not be there. Control, that’s what she needed. Maybe you weren’t exactly able to picture how she would gain that from what she was planning, but you could imagine it wasn’t going to be gentle love making like it used to be.

“Lay back on the bed.” Carina’s voice wasn’t demanding. It wasn’t harsh or cruel either. If anything it sounded a tad unsure. But still, when you followed her direction and she watched as you scooted yourself up onto the bed, you saw a flash of appreciation in her eyes. You weren’t going to question her actions, which took some of her tension and unease away. Whatever she was going to ask, you were going to give. Even if you were a little unsure about this shift in dynamics between the two of you, you were still willing to be true to your word.

She took a few steps into the room, watching as you reclined on the bed. Something inside her shifted in that moment. As she saw you lay on the bed for her, waiting for her to do whatever she had in store, it was like a switch flipped. Suddenly, she felt that rush of control she so miserably searched within herself for. She hadn’t even done anything yet and the feeling was already flooding her entire body like a drug.

When she was finally at the bed, she reached out her hands and yanked up your shirt. You helped her get it off you as best you could before you laid back down. It was awkward and you were struggling, but Carina didn’t seem to care much. That act alone was rougher than she ever was undressing you, but you still didn’t say anything.

Carina paused as she looked down at your naked chest. You were already breathing hard, just waiting for her to make a move. Finally, she reached out again and slowly dragged her nails down your body. Your head craned up to watch what she was doing and when her eyes met yours, you shivered at the look she gave you. Her pupils were blown as she stared you down. It was like she was in a trance, watching as five angry, red lines appeared in the wake of her nails on your skin.

You swallowed hard as Carina grabbed ahold of your pajama pants and yanked them down just as hard as she had pulled off your shirt. Now, you were completely bare in front of her and your anxiety was getting the best of you. It had been a little while since you let Carina see you like this. Even if she had seen you naked so many times before, this time was different. She was different now. Not that she wasn’t still your Carina. She was, it’s just that she also felt somewhat like a stranger.

But you shook that feeling off quickly when you felt the mattress dip by your feet. Carina slowly crawled over your bare body, her knees stopping and resting at either side of your waist. You tried to take a few deep, grounding breaths as Carina continued her earlier actions with her hands, scratching down your bare sides slowly and leaving marks along the way. It wasn’t hard enough for those marks to linger, but it was still an act you weren’t used to.

After a moment, Carina leaned down and her lips finally met yours. It felt like home and unfamiliar territory all at once. She felt like Carina, tasted like Carina, but the way she was kissing you was very much not like Carina. The kiss was slow, but not very gentle. She was claiming your mouth with her kiss, rather than the usual feeling she brought when kissing you. When she kissed you in the past, it felt like she got lost in the kiss you shared, but this time it felt like she was dominating it. This was about control after all, you thought as you did your best to keep up with the way she kissed you.

Her tongue licked into your mouth and you groaned, your hands moving up to grab onto her sides. The feeling of her silky robe rubbing against your bare skin was a disjointed feeling, but you tried to ignore it and do your best to keep up with her kiss. If you were being honest with yourself, this side of Carina, the controlling take-what-she-wants kind of side, wasn’t all bad. To be truthful, it was turning you on. Teeth dug into your bottom lip and pulled. Despite the gasp that escaped from you, the act, even though painful, sent a rush that landed straight between your legs.

The entire time Carina was kissing you, all she felt was a sense of peace. She wasn’t being gentle, sure, so that feeling definitely contradicted what she felt inside. But the more contact she had with you, the more she realized this really was exactly what she needed. It was like instant gratification, the way you responded to her command and her every touch. She felt that control and she was drunk on it. It was like, with this new feeling, all the others felt more muted. Not completely away, but enough that she could ignore them. Eventually, as she kept kissing you, all the tumultuous emotions she had been battling completely muted. There was only Carina and you and nothing could get in the way of Carina’s plans for you. That thought alone sent a shiver down her spine.

When she bit a little too hard on your lip, the yelp you let out broke her partially free from her power trip. She pulled back and paused as she looked down at you, her chest heaving. The look in her eye was something you hadn’t ever seen from Carina before. It was almost calm. Almost. But it was more like the calm before the storm. Like you knew that whatever was coming was going to be hard for Carina to reign in if you asked for her to stop. Your knuckles tensed as your hands kept their grip on her sides. Whatever she had planned truly wouldn’t be what you were used to with her, there would be no softness. You knew that when you offered, so while you waited for her to make her move, you mentally prepared yourself to truly give her full control.

“Bambina, are you sure?” She asked, her voice low. Her hand moved to your face, cupping your chin gently. It would be the last moment of softness you’d get from her for a while.

“Yes,” you whispered, nervousness clear in your voice. You swallowed hard again when she saw your hesitation and tried your best to sound more sure. “Yes, I’m sure. Whatever you need… take.”

Carina only nodded before sitting up and pulling at the tie to her robe. When she was free of it, she dropped the robe on the floor and practically rolled her entire body against yours.

“Mio dio,” she groaned to herself as she dragged her bare body against yours. This was the feeling she was missing so much. She kept herself from it in fear of breaking apart yet again, but you were presenting her with an opportunity to chase the feelings she needed while also avoiding the ones she couldn’t handle right now. “I’ve missed this so much.”

Your groan matched hers and your head fell back onto the pillow. Just the slight rock of her hips against yours was enough to get you wet. It had been so long since she touched you and the way she was touching you now was so different that it was doing unexpected things to you. “U-uh huh,” you mumbled as Carina kept rocking her whole body into yours. Her hands moved to your hips and one of her legs moved until it was slotted between your legs. You felt the pressure on your clit the minute she did that, her bare thigh grinding hard into you.

Your teeth sunk into your own lip when she steadily rocked into you. Trying to mirror what she was doing to you, you propped your own knee up and felt your breath hitch when her own wetness met your naked thigh. The sounds of skin against skin and both of you panting echoed in the room. Carina’s nails were digging so hard into your sides that you knew this time, those red marks wouldn’t go away so easily. Your hands were on her back, grabbing onto her for dear life as she kept rocking her own thigh into your clit and building up a delicious friction that you hadn’t felt in months.

All too soon, though, Carina pulled away. Sitting up for a moment, her fingers danced down your stomach until they reached between your legs, where she fully cupped your pussy. “When you cum tonight, it will be because I told you to,” Carina ordered. “Do you understand, bambina?”

You nodded your head vigorously, but Carina didn’t make any move to continue.

“I need you to say it,” she snapped. Her tone shocked you slightly, but you knew it wasn’t anger. It was all part of tonight, part of the control she needed.

“I understand,” you murmured and Carina gave you a satisfied nod.

“I’m not going to be gentle,” she warned as she sat back on her knees between your legs. Her fingers traced light circles on your clit. “But I need you to do this for me.”

“A-anything you want, Carina.” Your eyes met hers and the look she wore now was nothing but pure hunger.

With that Carina’s fingers moved down and circled your entrance. You tried to brace yourself, you really did, but nothing prepared you for the moment she pushed two fingers into you with such force until she was knuckle deep. A pathetic moan broke free from your lips, but Carina didn’t miss a beat. Each pump of her fingers was unforgiving. She put all the power she could into it, watching in awe as they slipped in and out of you. In this moment, as she sat between your legs and fucked her fingers into you with as much force and pent up anger she could put into it, she felt that pure control she was chasing intensify even more.

Your body was shaking and you were panting as you laid there and took her fingers with your legs spread open. Without warning, Carina slipped a third finger in you and you cried out. In that moment, Carina moved so that her body was back on top of your own. With each thrust of her fingers, she put her whole body into it. The way she was hitting so deep inside you and stretching you out almost burned, but it was a pleasurable burn. You couldn’t stop the cries that left your lips when all three of her fingers curled inside you and she quickened her pace.

The whole bed rocked with both of your bodies and your legs began to really shake. Carina’s teeth clamped down on your nipple and tugged hard. Not enough to break skin, but enough to have you shudder in pain that was quickly forgotten with a particularly hard pump of her three fingers inside you.

Pretty soon, Carina could feel the signs that told her you were close. “No, no, no, bambina,” Carina cooed against the bare skin of your breast. “You’re not going to cum now. You don’t get to cum now.”

“Carina, I don’t think—“

“Shhh, aspettami. Wait, bambina,” she growled. “Wait for me.” She pulled her fingers out then and you practically cried as the feeling of your impending orgasm suddenly faded. “I know, mia cara, I know.”

Carina placed kisses on either of your breasts before leaning back up to kiss your lips. Your lips immediately parted for her as your hands tried to pull her closer to your body. You needed more contact, you were so close before she pulled away. But still, Carina was in control, and she wasn’t going to give into your needy grabbing and pleading.

She pulled away after a moment to sit up on the bed and you leaned up on your elbows to watch her. The look you gave her must’ve been pathetic because she looked back at you with a knowing smile. One that was classic Carina, a flash of the old her that you hadn’t seen in so long.

You were so taken aback by it that you didn’t really pay attention to Carina for a moment. She moved until she was sitting at the head of the bed, leaning back against the headboard.

“On my lap,” she said as she turned to look at you. “You’re going to ride me until you make yourself cum.” She patted her lap for emphasis and you looked down at her hands before looking back up at her.

You hesitated, a little daunted by this new position she was asking of you. To ride her was one thing, but to get off on her yourself was a whole other.

“Now,” Carina ordered and you immediately crawled to her.

Straddling her waist until you were somewhat comfortably situated, you braced yourself on her shoulders. “Is this okay?” You asked nervously as you shifted on top of her.

“Yes, good, bambina.” Carina’s hand moved down your body and between your legs again. The way her fingers brushed against your clit made you shiver from how sensitive and keyed up you still were. “You’re going to fuck yourself on my fingers, okay?”

You nodded, finding it hard to vocalize anything when you were so ready to feel her fill you again. Luckily, she accepted this and, yet again, you felt the same three fingers fill you.

The fact that you had to get yourself off on her was one surprise; the fact that she was clearly insistent on stretching your pussy out with three fingers still was a whole other. Yet, Carina didn’t seem to mind the struggle in your face when you tried your best to grind down onto them. You grunted as you could feel the way your pussy was tightly wrapped around them, making it hard for you to take them in deep on your own.

Carina wrapped a strong arm around your back to hold you up firmly while you began to rock your hips into her. After a few minutes of you practically bouncing yourself up and down on her fingers, you began to feel that tantalizing pleasure again. It was only intensified by the way Carina had buried her face in your chest and placed bite mark after bite mark all over your tits.

Pretty soon, the room was filled with sounds of your moans and Carina’s satisfied praises. You kept fucking yourself onto Carina’s fingers with abandon until finally you were at that edge again. Your whole body was tensing up and you were pulling Carina into you as close as possible.

“Cum for me,” she ordered. “Cum now, bambina.” And you did with a low whine, coming all over her fingers.

Before you could even come down, Carina was moving both her hands back down to your hips. With a hard grip, she kept you going, moving your body for you and pumping her fingers up into you now. Your nails dug into Carina’s bare skin and you cried out her name as your body quaked and another orgasm hit you the second she fucked her fingers up into you harder.

Even then, she didn’t stop. Your whole body felt tense and overly sensitive, but still Carina threw you onto the mattress and followed behind. Landing knocked the wind out of you, even if you hadn’t caught your breath just yet from the two orgasms. Your head lulled back, but Carina kept pumping her fingers into your spent pussy.

“Carina I— it’s too much. I can’t,” you cried. You wanted to give her all she needed, like you said you would, but everything felt too sensitive. Never had she pushed you through two orgasms back to back, only to try and push you through a third.

“You can give me another,” Carina grunted into your ear as she kept fucking you. “You will cum for me again.”

You weren’t even trying to stop your whining and desperate moans at this point. Carina took one of your legs and pulled it over her waist, allowing her fingers to hit even deeper inside you. You felt spent and filled at the same time and it was all overwhelming you.

Your eyes rolled back and you whined Carina’s name as she pulled yet another orgasm from you. Still as your body shuddered and trembled, all Carina did was slow a little.

She was lost in her control over your body. This feeling, the feeling of making you cum, was the only positive feeling she’s had in so long. It was the only thing so far that quieted all her anger and guilt. Carina didn’t want to stop, she couldn’t stop. She needed to chase this feeling for as long as possible.

“Carina, please.” Tears pricked at your eyes as she kept fucking into you. Again, she was rocking her whole body into yours as she fucked you. She was losing speed, but each pump of her fingers was still powerful.

“One more,” She begged. “One more… please, just one more.” She didn’t stop as she pleaded with you, but you still nodded your head weakly. As much as your body felt like it was exceeding its limit, you wanted to give her all she asked for.

With each time her fingers pumped into you up to the knuckle, your body shuddered. You definitely felt like you were being fucked raw by her, but still you took it. Meanwhile, Carina just had her face buried into your neck, placing kisses now where she once was biting.

Finally, you came for a fourth time with a silent cry. Your chest was heaving and your body went totally limp under Carina and this time she actually slowed to a stop. Yet, her body remained on top of yours.

It was after a moment of trying to collect yourself that you finally noticed the way Carina shook on top of you. You realized very quickly she was crying and you instinctively wrapped your arms around her waist.

In all of that, as Carina was fucking you, she forgot just how good you felt. She missed you, she realized that as she had her lips on you and her arms around you. It wasn’t even that you went anywhere. No, you were by her side this whole time as she grieved. It was just that she was so lost in her grief that she might have been next to you physically, but emotionally she was just… gone.

Now though, as she laid on top of you and shed tears she thought she was done shedding, she felt comfortable. Finally, she had felt an ounce of control. Maybe it was over you and it was given willingly, but it still helped bring back a part of her. If anything, it just helped her to stop spiraling in her inner turmoil at least for the night.

After a moment, Carina pulled away and you immediately felt guilty. “Too soft,” you whispered. “I know, I know… I’m sorry.”

“No,” Carina shook her head and cupped your cheek again. Tears glimmered in her eyes as her thumb rubbed gently against your skin. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into her touch that you missed so much. “No, bambina, it’s okay. I think I could use softness now.”

You looked up at her with wide, hopeful eyes and in that very moment, Carina understood how much you were hurting for her too. “Will you hold me?” Carina’s question surprised you, but you didn’t miss a beat and eagerly nodded your agreement.

She rolled off you and you rolled your side, opening your arms for her. She turned into you and both of you wrapped around the other. Her hands held you tight and yours traced gentle circles along her bare skin. That night, she finally let you hold her as she cried. But this time she didn’t cry out of grief. No, instead she cried in relief as she felt some of the pieces inside her that had been broken since the loss of her brother finally start to come back together.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months

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Perzys se Rūkla (Fire and Flowers) - Chapter Six

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x original female character (Melessa Tyrell) Warnings: Mentions of infidelity, angst, strong language, mentions of pregnancy, childbirth, smut. Word count: ~3k

Chapter summary: Daemon makes two life changing discoveries. Series summary here.

Endless thanks and all the love to my absolute ride or die @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for cheerleading, beta'ing and just generally being the bestest fandom boo a gal could have.

Author's note: No tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

Header by the insanely talented @em-writes-stuff-sometimes

Maester Orwyle drops heavily to his feet once Daemon’s grip on the front of his robes loosens. He scurries away fearfully, scarcely even sparing a glance behind him.

Daemon’s temper still burns hot within his veins. How dare she hide this from me?

The force with which he throws open the doors would be enough to wake Melessa up ordinarily; but under ordinary circumstances, she wouldn’t be under the influence of milk of the poppy. Thus, she remains asleep.

He softens upon taking in her appearance, his anger leaving him as he watches her laying there. She’d look peaceful were it not for the tear tracks upon her cheeks—tears he has caused her. His wife.

The mother of his child.

She does not deserve his anger any more than he deserves her forgiveness, as much as he yearns for it. He sits carefully on the bed next to her, longing to reach out and brush his fingers against the peachy softness of her face. He refrains. She has expressed a wish for him not to touch her. He owes it to her to respect that, even in sleep.

Whether she is prepared to allow him to make amends now or not, he knows he cannot permit her to return to Highgarden. Not now that she carries his child. She has given him a reason to do better, to be better.

He wants to watch her grow round and full with his offspring, to see the effects that he has had on her body as it adapts to the life nestled within. He feels his cock stir at the thought and swallows thickly, attempting to push the urge away. Perhaps her shape had begun to change already and he hadn’t noticed. He finds himself thinking back to the last few times they’d been intimate. He had been so rough, so hurried, so desperate for fulfillment that he had barely registered her beneath him. If he had the opportunity to go back he would take his time with her, run his hands over her curves and appreciate them, notice the subtle swell to her breasts and the added plushness to her hips.

There is an ache in his chest as he continues to look upon her. He has to make this right. A child of his own is something Daemon has never thought about; never wanted, until now. And now, he does not think he has ever desired anything more desperately.

He has no idea how long he continues to sit there for. Soon, the sky is breaking into vibrant hues of yellow, orange and red upon the horizon, indicating dawn’s approach. He hadn’t seen Melessa eat since Rhaenyra’s coronation feast the previous afternoon. She will awaken soon and surely feel ravenous with hunger. Daemon cannot abide that, not when their child relies upon her nourishment.

Reluctantly, he rises from the bed and makes his way to the kitchens. There is plentiful food left over from the day before; he orders the few staff that are awake and working already to put together a platter. Salted meats, pies, bread, hard cheese and tarts are piled high upon the tray, enough to feed both him and Melessa for today and the day after that. He knows it is too much, but this is as much to prove a point as it is to give his wife breakfast. Even in the wrong, Daemon cannot resist the urge to maintain the element of surprise.

Melessa is stirring, sleepily rubbing her eyes as he re-enters her bedchamber, setting the heaped tray upon the foot of the bed. She sits up, her brow furrowing as she looks upon the food that’s been placed before her.

“What’s all this?” she asks, voice thick with sleep.

“Breakfast,” Daemon tells her with a smirk, leaning against the bedpost and folding his arms as he watches her.

“There is so much of it…” Her blue eyes glance up towards him before dropping back to the spread of food.

“Yes—I suppose there is,” he says. “It was tricky for me to know how much to have brought up to you… considering you are eating for two now.”

Her hand that had been reaching towards the food pulls suddenly back into her lap. She stares at him, brows raised in shock. “You know.”

It isn’t so much a question as it is a statement. Daemon simply nods, attempting to mask the satisfied smile that spreads across his face. He may have caught her out, but ultimately he is still in the wrong.

“How?” she asks, pressing her lips into a tight line.

“I caught Maester Orwyle sneaking out of your chambers in the middle of the night,” he tells her matter-of-factly.

“Oh gods. Daemon—what did you do to him?”

His wife knows him too well. He is unable to help the upward tug at the corners of his mouth. “Nothing he won’t recover from. Eat.”

Melessa sighs and reaches for a piece of bread, tearing it apart with her hands as Daemon resumes his earlier position beside her.

“How long have you known?” he asks after a few moments pass between them in silence.

“Since we arrived back in King’s Landing,” she replies between bites.

“And how long since you last bled?”

He can see her considering his question as she chews, trying to recall. “About three moons.”

Daemon can feel his mood darkening and draws in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. His voice is tight when he asks his next question. “And not once did it occur to you to tell me?”

“I was going to,” she begins softly. “There was so much going on already, with your brother passing away. I had planned to tell you after Rhaenyra’s coronation, but then…”

She trails off, her bottom lip trembling slightly and Daemon feels his heart squeeze at the sight.

“Then I fucked it all up,” he says sadly.

“Hm.” Melessa places her half eaten bread back on the tray, leaning back against the headboard. “You’re not going to let me leave, are you? Not now that you know.”

Daemon feels like he’d be serving another blow to her, to admit this aloud, true as it is. He wants nothing more than to comfort her, to pull her against his chest and breathe in the sweet scent of her golden hair.

“I need you to know that nothing happened…with that girl,” he tells her. “I won’t deny that I tried, and I cannot begin to explain why I did, but I couldn’t…because she wasn’t you, petal.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful?” she asks bitterly.

“No, but it is proof of the fact that I care for you.”

“And yet you have never told me you love me.”

“I’ve never told anyone that before, not even my own brother. Perhaps that is my mistake.”

“But do you love me?”

He is determined not to leave the pause that he did yesterday, to not make her doubt his feelings for her any further than he already has. He takes a breath, steeling himself against his impending vulnerability. “Our time on Dragonstone together was the happiest I ever remember being. I hated having to give that up to return here. Everything in this wretched place serves as a reminder that I am not good enough for you, not good enough to be Hand of the King.”

“And yet, you are my husband and Hand of the Queen,” Melessa reminds him.

“I stole you from my nephew. My niece made me Hand because my brother would not.”

“Perhaps you ought to spend more time appreciating what you have, rather than resenting the reason you have it.”

He huffs through his nose. She is right and he despises it, but it is one of the things he has grown to love about her. Yes. Love.

“I think about you all the time,” he tells her. “I find myself wishing for your presence when you are not by my side. Your scent is imprinted upon me in such a way that nothing else satisfies; I yearn for you more than I ever have for anyone. If that is love, then—yes. I love you… as much as I am able to love another person.”

She stares straight ahead as he speaks, her expression unreadable. The quiet hangs heavy between them when he finishes. Daemon’s heart races, worried she’ll reject him despite him having opened up to her.

Melessa shifts slightly in the bed. “Can you take the food away?” she asks. “The smell is making me feel unwell. I will not return to Highgarden, but I would appreciate some time to myself. I need to rest.”

Daemon nods, standing and removing the food from the end of the bed. He hovers by the door as Melessa settles back down to sleep, debating whether to try to kiss her or not. Deciding against it—he sees her eyes flutter closed—he pushes the tray into the hands of a chambermaid and makes his way out of the Red Keep.

He expects that Rhaenyra will summon him at some point today. It is her first official day as Queen; she will no doubt want a meeting of the Small Council. It is still early, however, and with yesterday’s festivities, he doesn’t anticipate her being ready to call everyone forth until the afternoon. He decides a ride on dragonback will help clear his mind. He has much to think about, though he is glad at having convinced Melessa to remain in King’s Landing without the need for force.

As Daemon approaches the Dragonpit, he notices excited commotion amongst the Keepers. The head of them gives him a beaming smile when he spots him and hurries over, staff in hand, to clap Daemon on the shoulder. He scowls at the overfamiliarity. Before he can enquire as to what the meaning of all of this is, he hears what the Keeper has to say.

“Syrax has laid a clutch! Her first in two decades!”

Daemon raises his eyebrows, the perceived slight immediately forgotten. “Dragon eggs?”

“Yes, Your Grace. We hadn’t known she was gravid. It appears the return of Caraxes has been fruitful for her.”

“Show me,” Daemon commands, excitement fluttering within him.

The head Dragon Keeper guides him through the gloom and humidity of the Pit until they reach a mucus-coated membrane upon the earthen floor.

Daemon crouches, breaking apart the protective layer that coats the top of them. Beneath lay four dragon eggs. His eye is immediately drawn to one that is iridescent shades of orange and red, fading into a vibrant green towards the bottom.

Carefully, he lifts it, turning it over in his hands, feeling the warmth of its hardened scales against his fingertips. “Perzys se rūkla,” he whispers.

Two Keepers approach, a steaming pot meant to incubate the eggs carried between them.

Daemon rights himself, keeping a hold of the egg he’s taken. “You may take those three.” He nods towards the ground. “And inform the Queen of Syrax’s clutch. I am taking this one.”

Melessa is still dozing when he returns. This time, he has no hesitation in waking her. He grins down at her as she grouses to herself, blinking her eyes slowly open.

“For the babe,” he tells her, holding the egg out.

She gasps, reaching out to place her hands over it, her fingers overlapping with his.

Daemon releases a steady exhale at the contact, the first physical touch they’ve shared in what feels like an age. He leans forward, resting his forehead against hers as they hold the egg together, the aroma of almond oil and rosewater flooding his senses. Finally, it feels as though everything may work out exactly as he wants.

This time, he does not fear it.

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

Daemon paces the room. Each of Melessa’s pained screams cause him to wince as they echo off of the vaulted ceilings. A gaggle of attendants rally around her, mopping away sweat and blood as she produces each fluid anew.

Should there be so much blood? Is she going to be alright?

His throat constricts at the possibility he might lose her. He has ignored the pleas for him to leave the room, does not trust that she will not meet the fate of his brother’s first wife, Aemma, should she fall into difficulties.

He will not have her carved open like some roasted hog, just for the sake of some squawking brat. He will end this child’s life long before he ever considers taking hers.

He longs to brush her dampened hair from her temples, to hold her hand and encourage her through her labours, but he has not been allowed beside the bed. The birthing bed is no place for a husband, he is told. Daemon thinks that is utter shit.

He stills when he hears the first wails, too high-pitched to possibly be his wife’s. He turns to see Melessa exhausted but still very much alive, panting against the pillows as a bloodied, squirming mass is lifted from between her legs.

“A boy,” announces a voice from somewhere. He barely registers it, everything seeming far away as the child is separated from his mother, swaddled, and placed into Daemon’s arms.

He has never held anything so fragile before in his life. His arms wrap instinctively around the tiny bundle, a lump forming in his throat as he gazes down at the scrunched up, reddened face that looks up at him with apparent displeasure.

“Ñuhus trēsȳs,” he whispers. “You have a face I’m sure your mother will love.” My son.

He walks around to the side of the bed, and places the child in Melessa’s waiting arms. “Well done, petal,” he murmurs, kissing her temple. “You have given me a son.”

Daemon’s heart swells at the adoration with which she looks down at the babe with, her fingers tracing over his tiny cheek.

“What shall we name him?” she asks, voice hoarse from her labour pains.

“I was thinking Viserys, after my brother,” Daemon says, perching on the edge of the bed and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“A fine name, indeed.” She smiles. “Little Viserys.”

“Avy jorrāelagon,” he whispers, pressing his nose to her hair. It is a sentiment he ensures his wife and child will never go without hearing from him ever again. I love you.

**SIX WEEKS LATER**

Daemon’s hands wander over Melessa’s nightgown, pawing and squeezing at her flesh as she lays beside him. Under instruction from the Maesters, he and Melessa have not laid together for six weeks in order to allow her body to heal from having given birth. The wait has felt agonising to him; the last time he had been inside of her had been during the last few weeks of her pregnancy. Towards the end, Viserys had sat too low in her womb for them to be intimate without it causing her discomfort.

The wait has been maddening for Daemon. His fist will never satisfy him the way that the warmth of her cunt can.

She squirms uneasily against his touch. “Daemon— please,” she whimpers. “My body has changed since I became a mother.”

“And what is your point, petal?” he murmurs, his hand cupping her breast through the flimsy cotton that covers it.

“I do not look as I was before. I worry that you will not want me anymore, that you will seek out the comfort of another again…”

Daemon takes a gentle grip of her chin, tilting her face towards him. “There is no one that I desire more than you, sweet wife.”

He grasps her hand, guiding it towards his hardened length. “See what you do to me? Even in that oversized sack you insist upon wearing to bed.”

She giggles, and he captures her lips in a searing kiss, pulling at the lacings that keep her shift fastened as he does.

When she is bared beneath him, his eyes travel over the fullness of her breasts, the tautness of their hardened peaks slightly ruddier than they used to be. Her stomach bears the markings of having carried life, her hips more rounded, plusher than they used to be.

A low growl of approval rumbles in his throat. She is irrevocably marked as his and has never looked more beautiful to him.

He inhales a sharp breath upon finding her wet and wanting when he snakes a hand between her thighs. He wants to spend more time preparing her, but the way his cock aches painfully does not allow for such endeavours this evening. He needs her too badly.

When the tight heat of her walls envelope him, he groans in relief. It is like returning home after a lengthy absence. She sobs with pleasure at his every thrust, his hands vice-like against her waist as she eventually shudders and comes apart around him. He follows her over the edge soon after, white hot pleasure licking at his lower spine as he spills himself deep inside of her.

She is almost asleep against his chest when the piercing wails of Viserys startle them both into wakefulness. Melessa sighs, moving to leave the bed when Daemon places a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Allow me, petal,” he says, brushing his lips against her temple and rising from the bed.

Viserys cries in his cradle, little handles clenched into fists. The moonlight that streams through the gap in the curtains shines upon what has disturbed his slumber.

The dragon egg that lays beside him—vibrant hues of red and orange that fade into a brilliant shade of green towards the bottom—has begun to crack apart.

Daemon’s lips part as he watches it. A little dragon for his very own little dragon.

Perzys se rūkla.

FIN.

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dem-obscure-imagines · 3 months

Text

You're So Timeless | Vol. 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Summary: In 1943, Steve Rogers was visited by his soulmate. He fell hard. Problem is, she was from the future and didn’t stick around for long. Now, in the twenty-first century, he finally found her again, except this version of her hasn’t met him yet and won’t know he’s her soulmate for another year.

Note: So this is a combination of my other two Steve Rogers soulmate AU fics, but lengthened and fleshed out into a full fic. I was literally possessed to write this. I have no other explanation. I really like how it came out. I gave this one chapter headings (I am also going to post it to Ao3) and yes some are Taylor Swift titles. Sorry about that. It takes place roughly around the time Civil War would, but we have managed to avoid the war this time around. I also moved some other characters up the timeline because I think they’re neat and I said so. Without further ado, please enjoy my new Magnum Opus.

Also Tumblr made me split it into two parts. Part 2 linked HERE and also at the end of the post.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/injuries, soulmate au, tons of mutual pining, kind of a slowburn but in reverse. Light angst, but a happy ending.

Word Count: 38.7k total (I am not sorry)

Reader Is: Enhanced (forcefields), 24 years old, female

The End

Time.

It was a fickle thing. In the blink of an eye, a year had passed. A mere twelve months earlier, you had been living a different life. The only life you had been responsible for was your own. And your plants, but…they never seemed to last that long under your care. Now, everything was different.

It was the day before your birthday. Your twenty-fifth birthday, which, in the world you lived in, meant that tomorrow, a name would appear on your wrist, the name of your soulmate. It had been stressing you out all day, the weight of tomorrow and everything it meant.

It was late, and you were exhausted from a day of overthinking. The longer you stayed up, the longer you delayed the inevitable reveal, and thinking about it too much made you nervous, so you just decided to get to sleep sooner than later.

It was once you were just about to climb into bed that there was a knock at your door.

“It’s open!” You called. The door opened slowly, revealing Steve, who was leaning in your doorway, arms crossed, that pensive look in his blue eyes. “Oh, hey.”

“Hi.” He chuckled. He seemed nervous, although you weren’t sure why.

“Everything alright, Steve?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I actually came in here to check on you. Wanda said you were…quiet.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” You hugged your arms around your frame and bit your lip, looking up at the super soldier standing in front of you. “Just…I don’t know. I’ve been looking forward to tomorrow for my entire life, but…now that it’s here, I’m so scared.”

“Hey, come here.” He said, pulling you to him, strong arms wrapped around you, as if he could protect you from the future itself.

“I don’t know what to do…”

“(Y/N), whoever they are, they are incredibly, incredibly lucky. You don’t need to worry about anything. It’ll all work out. It always does.” He said it like he was certain. Like somehow he knew what would happen in the morning when suddenly your life was turned on its head and you had to venture out to find your other half.

Since you’d met him, Steve wore a leather band around his wrist, covering his soulmate’s name. You’d figured he must have met them in the forties and…maybe they hadn’t made it long enough to see him come out of the ice. But you didn’t ask about it. You never dared to put that question into words. He’d been through enough heartbreak already.

“What if they don’t like me…?”

He scoffed, holding you tighter. “That’s impossible. They’re going to love you. So much. I promise.”

“And…and we’ll still be f-friends?”

Steve pulled away, looking down at you, a hand very carefully touching your cheek. “Of course we will still be friends. Nothing is ever going to change that. I promise.”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Good. Thank you, Steve. For everything.”

He gently wiped the tear away, the pad of his thumb warm. Once he was sure you were okay, he let go, looking at you with that knowing sparkle in his eye once more. He took a little extra time to look at the shirt you were wearing, the Star Wars tee you’d had since high school. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You agreed.

“And happy birthday, (Y/N).”

We’ll Meet Again

“Ma’am? Are you alright? Ma’am?” The voice sounded far away. You were pretty sure you were still dreaming. You opened your eyes slowly and immediately became aware of the pounding pain in your head.

“Ow, oh my God.” You reached up and felt there, but it didn’t feel like you were bleeding or anything.

“Ma’am?”

You froze for a second, slowly looking up at the figure standing above you, confusion written all over his familiar features. It took you a long moment to put the pieces together. You were on a porch somewhere in what appeared to be New York, but it was…different. A lot different than the parts of the city you knew. Alright, it had to be a dream.

You looked up at the man standing above you and did a double-take. But no, it was him. It was a tiny, frail version of Steve. Your eyebrows furrowed and you sat up slowly, staring at him for a long moment before whispering, “Steve?”

His mouth opened and then shut again and he made a face of confusion, like he was trying to place where he knew you from, but he didn’t know you yet, and wouldn’t know you for several more years, to say the least. “Do I know you?”

“It’s complicated.” You exhaled. “Can we go inside? You’re going to need to sit down for this.”

Dumbfounded, Steve nodded and you stood up from the porch, only to find that he was at your eye level when you did. Weird. He led you into the small apartment and you looked around. It was quaint. There was an easel in the corner of the room and…Bucky Barnes sitting on the couch? You stared at him for a good, long moment, a shiver running down your spine.

“Who’s the dame?” He read your shirt. “What is Star…Wars…?”

“About to find that out myself.” He chuckled, leading you into the living room. “Buck, could you give us a minute?”

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Bucky got up and walked to the other half of their tiny two-bedroom.

You sat down on the couch and so did he. The silence was thick. You thought for several moments. You weren’t quite sure how you had ended up in the 1940s. You looked down at your hands and it was then that your gaze finally landed on the writing on your wrist. And then everything made sense.

“What’s the date today?”

“It’s July 4th, why?”

“July 4th…” You whispered. “What, 1943?”

You could see the wheels turning behind his eyes before he replied, “Yes ma’am.”

“Well, happy birthday, first of all. And second of all…” You held up your wrist so he could read it. Steve’s eyes went wide and he stared at the three words written neatly on your skin in his own handwriting.

Steven Grant Rogers.

“You’re my…” He looked at you for a long time, his eyes wide. He hastily undid the cuff around his wrist and held it out to you, your own name written there. He ran a finger across the letters, as if to prove they were really there.

“I’m your soulmate.” You said certainly.

It hit you like a truck, then. The weird look on your Steve’s face, the way he was so certain that everything would work out. It was because he had already lived through this. And that meant that in all the time he’d known you, he’d been hiding his mark not because his soulmate had died, but instead because you were his soulmate and you didn’t know it yet.

Your entire year of friendship, of memories, of roadtrips and missions and movie marathons…he had known the whole time. And that look in his eyes wasn’t just his protective side coming out. It was love. It had been love the whole time.

Oh.

Steve exhaled a long, shaking breath, really taking you in. Once again, he had a million stars in his eyes. He let out a whispered, “Wow,” as tears began to form.

You came back down to earth. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, sniffling as a tear ran down his cheek. “I’ve just, I’ve got a lot of…health problems, so I wasn’t sure if I’d ever…meet you. And you’re here and you’re great and I just…I’m sorry.”

That brought tears to your eyes. “Oh, Steve…” You pulled him into your arms and he didn’t hesitate to surrender to your embrace, his arms wrapping tight around you and holding you close, head nestled into the crook of your neck. “Just breathe. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Always.

He took your advice, doing his best to avoid an asthma attack on what was shaping up to be the best day of his life. Once he finally caught his breath, he pulled away to look at your face again. “I have to ask…How did you know?”

“I don’t know if you can tell from these clothes,” you motioned down to the t-shirt and sweatpants you were wearing, “but I’m not from around here, exactly.”

“I kind of thought so, but I didn’t want to be rude.” He smiled softly. “Um, where are you from, then?”

“I’m from the future. Like…a while from now. It’s hard to explain why or how, and I’m not really sure how I got here, to be honest, but I’m glad I am.” You sighed, thumb grazing his cheek, wiping away his tears. He crooned at your touch. “I don’t know how long we have before I have to go back.”

“Am I there? Where you’re from?”

“You are. It’s complicated. We’re really good friends and…when I get back, I’m sure we’ll probably be even more than that.” You smiled, shaking your head. “I can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces together sooner.”

“(Y/N)?” Steve asked, trying out your name for the first time.

“Yeah?”

“Let me take you out today, show you a good time here before you have to go back.” He took your hand and carefully laced his fingers through your own, testing the weight of it, the feel of it.

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Not to eavesdrop, lovebirds — congratulations, by the way — but if you’re going to take her out, we’re going to need to find her some clothes that aren’t so…‘not from around here.’” Bucky leaned in the doorway.

“Yeah, I thought the same thing.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call one of my girls and we’ll get her squared away. Sit tight.”

“Thanks, Bucky.” You said, chuckling when his eyes widened after you addressed him by name. “I know you, too. From the, uh, future.”

“Weird…” Bucky decided.

“Long story?” Steve asked, studying the look on your face.

“Very.” You agreed. After staring at him for another long moment, you pulled him back into your arms again, exhaling a long breath before whispering, “Steve, I’m so glad it’s you…”

***

“Wow.” You stared at yourself in the mirror, studying the way Bucky’s, ahem, lady friend, had curled your hair, done your makeup. You did a little twirl and relished in the way the skirt of your dress twirled. It was navy blue, short ruffled sleeves with a flared skirt and buttons down the front. “I think it suits me.”

“I agree. Blue is a good color on you.” Steve was sitting in a chair at the edge of the room, absolutely enamored as he watched you. “Although, I’m sure they’re all good colors on you, doll.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “Thanks.”

“I mean it.” He stood up and walked to you, slipping one of his hands into each of yours and staring into your eyes, looking at the way you looked standing next to him in his reflection. His soulmate. The kind of girl people write poems about. “You look great.”

“I don’t look out of place?”

“No one is gonna think you’re a time traveler. Well, unless you tell them.” Bucky said. “Maybe don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it.” You chuckled and gave Steve’s hands a squeeze. “Where to first, soulmate?”

His cheeks reddened as soon as you said the word. “Well, I was thinking we could go to my favorite little diner down the street to grab something for lunch, and then maybe we could take a walk through the park, catch a movie, and then go out for drinks tonight?”

“What, you aren’t gonna take her dancing?” Bucky teased, ruffling Steve’s hair under a large hand. “Show the girl a good time?”

“I would if I didn’t have two left feet.” Steve chuckled, a sheepish smile on his face. He looked at you, waiting for some kind of response. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a great time, Steve.”

He smiled. “Good.”

The two of you left the apartment not long after that, and walked side by side towards the diner. Your hands were swinging in the space between you and your hand brushed Steve’s once, twice, a third time, and then you slipped your hand into his, intertwining your fingers.

You caught him smile out of the corner of your eye. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, of course it’s okay.” He grinned and chuckled to himself. “You can hold my hand as much as you want, doll.”

When the two of you finally got to the diner, a little bell rang over your heads and you got seated at a booth by the window. The two of you ordered drinks and you skimmed the menu while you waited.

“So, tell me about yourself.” You said, resting your chin against your fist and looking over at Steve. You studied the way his blue, blue eyes flicked up to your own and the blush that covered his cheeks shortly thereafter.

“You probably know a lot of it already.” He chuckled. “Unless we don’t talk a lot?”

“We talk quite a bit, but I still want to know about this you. Here and now.”

“I like art. Drawing and painting and stuff.” He said. “I haven’t had time to do much lately, but I’d like to get back into it.”

“See, that I didn’t know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know you were into art.”

“I could, uh, show you sometime.” He offered.

“I’d like that.” You smiled. “What else?”

“I like to read. I like going to Dodgers games with Bucky. One time he took me to Coney Island. I don’t like rollercoasters, but I liked playing the games. He wasted three whole dollars trying to win a teddy bear for a redhead named Dot.”

“Three whole dollars…” You chuckled. “Well you don’t have to worry about the rollercoasters too much, I can’t go upside down without throwing up.”

“That makes two of us. Enough about me, tell me about you.” Steve nudged, his hand slowly moving towards yours. “How do we know each other? When did we meet?”

“We’re…coworkers, I guess you could say. We met about a year back and now we live in the same building? I’m sorry for being so vague, I just—”

“Don’t want to give it away, yeah, I get it.” He nodded, understandingly.

“You took me under your wing as soon as I moved in and really made me feel welcome. You’re the one that brought me onto the team, actually.” You took a sip of your drink. “We’ve been through a lot together already, and I’m sure it’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Mmm…” Steve nodded. “I know I just met you, but I’m really glad you and I are close. Well, will be close.” He paused before chuckling and shaking his head. “There’s still some little voice in the back of my head telling me all of this is just some amazing dream.”

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it.” You chuckled, tucking a piece of curled hair back behind your ear. “I’ve…I’ve had a crush on you forever, Steve. I can’t believe this is happening.”

He stared at you, almost dumbfounded. “O-on me?”

“Yeah.” You agreed. You’d forgotten, you supposed, that Steve had had this phase, the self-depreciation, the insecurity. Your Steve, when complimented, was shy, sure, but you knew he understood what people were talking about. This Steve didn’t see it that way. Not yet. But it would be your job to use your one day with him to change that, to make your soulmate see that he was worthy of love, even self-love. “Yeah, of course on you, Steve. I can’t believe I get to have you.”

His cheeks reddened and he finally took the leap, taking your hand across the table, thumb grazing your knuckles with care. His blue eyes sparkled. “Funny. I was gonna say the same thing about you.”

***

Once the two of you were finished up at the diner, you took a walk through the park. It was gorgeous out, a bright, sunny, warm summer afternoon. Several couples were strolling down the paths, hand in hand, and you were one of them, your hand held tight in Steve’s, his thumb gently stroking the back of yours.

You went to the theater and caught a movie together. Luckily enough, they were showing the Wizard of Oz. Your current situation had you feeling like Dorothy in more ways than one. The movie had only come out four years earlier, which was definitely strange. Not to mention the fact that the tickets were only twenty-five cents, the popcorn a mere ten cents.

And then, once the movie was over and the sun was setting, you went to a bar, where Steve ordered each of you a drink. You took a sip of yours, something sweet, and smiled at him across the table.

“So, how’s your day been, birthday boy?” You asked coyly.

“The best I’ve had so far,” he replied, his eyes sparkling. The sparkle faded, however, when his expression grew somber. He hesitated, but then asked, “Okay, I have to know…How long do I have to wait to see you again?”

You exhaled a long sigh, biting your lip. If you told him the truth, he might ask questions you couldn’t tell him the answers to. And besides, the real answer would require some math. You didn’t know the specifics.

“I’ll be honest, Steve, it’s…it’s a pretty long time.” You thought for a long moment before continuing, “I…I can’t really tell you why. It’s all really complicated, and if I tell you too much, it might not happen the way it’s supposed to.”

“Oh…” Steve nodded and took a sip of his drink. Once he set down the glass, he reached across the table and took your hand. “Well, however long it is,” he looked straight into your eyes and a chill ran down your spine, “It’ll be worth it. Every second. I promise.”

You could have cried. “I hope so.”

“There you two are! I was wondering which bar you’d wandered into!” Bucky was, apparently, already slightly intoxicated as he approached you and Steve with a date of his own. “How was your day on the town, lovebirds?”

“Spectacular.” You replied. “I wish there was more time to soak it in.”

“New York sure is something, huh?” Bucky’s date asked, giggling innocently. If only she knew the half of it.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You laughed and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You guys wanna sit with us?” Steve asked.

“If you don’t mind too much, punk.” Bucky grinned.

Steve got up and switched sides of the booth so he was sitting next to you instead of across from you. You slid your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. He smiled, chuckling softly to himself as he gave your hand a squeeze.

“Did you give the lady her dance, Rogers?” Bucky asked, smirking.

“Not yet.” Steve chuckled. “We’ll see. The asthma makes it a bit difficult sometimes.”

“Never seems to stop you from getting into fights.” Bucky muttered, causing Steve’s cheeks to flush.

“Just wait until the band plays something slow,” Bucky’s date pointed out.

“There you go!” Bucky raised his glass to his lips. “Great idea, Maggie.”

“Glad to be of service.”

And so, the four of you chatted until the band started to play something sweet and slow. Steve looked at you for approval and you nodded. He led you out onto the floor with the other couples.

Steve blushed, flustered, and he looked at you before saying, “I don’t know how to do this.”

“It’s easy.” You promised, guiding one of his hands to your waist and holding the other. “That’s it. And then we just move to the music. You can twirl me around if you feel so inclined.”

“Alright.” He chuckled, swaying in time with you. “Hey, uh, (Y/N), I need you to know…I had a really, really great time today. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a soulmate and I’m so excited to spend the rest of my life with you someday, however far away that someday is.”

“I’m glad I met your expectations.” You smiled, tugging him a bit closer.

“No, you exceeded them. You’re better than anything I could have imagined. I’m so lucky.” He paused, and his expression fell a little. “I know I’m a lot. I have a lot of problems and they might complicate things sometimes, but…”

“Steve, you’re perfect.” You shook your head and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “The universe gave you to me for a reason and I’m so, so glad it did. You’re amazing. I can’t think of anyone better to spend the rest of my life with.”

He was quiet for a moment before whispering, “Can I please kiss you, doll?”

You leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, the music swelling around you as you guided his hands to your waist, cupping his cheeks to hold him close to you. When the moment had passed, you rested your nose against his, meeting his eyes and inhaling his scent, committing this version of him to memory before he was reduced to just that, a memory.

“Steve Rogers, I am so sorry you will not hear me say these words until after I go back tomorrow, but I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life.”

You spent the rest of the night together. Twirling across the dancefloor, talking, soaking each other in. But when you reached the front porch of the townhouse, Steve looked back down the steps to find you’d disappeared, leaving him with nothing but the memory of your lips, your laugh, your smile.

“You gonna be alright?” Bucky asked, a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know.” He replied, words swallowed up by the sounds of the night. “Just give me a minute, pal.”

Bucky nodded, solemn. “Take all the time you need.”

The Beginning

Steve remembered the day you’d met—for the second time, though he didn’t realize it right away—like it was tattooed on his brain. It was a few years after he’d come out of the ice and he had taken Tony’s advice to get out more, which had led him to the local mall.

It had been an uneventful day. He strolled around the perimeter, taking in the storefronts, studying the fashion, browsing the menu of a pretzel place, reading the posters on the exterior of the movie theater, the things that were coming out in the coming months. Nothing interested him in particular. He didn’t really care for war movies.

After a few quiet hours, his peaceful walk was interrupted by screams, people running away at top speed, which, of course, caused him to spring into action, assessing the situation. He ran towards the source of the chaos, scanning, scanning, until his eyes landed on the attacker, a guy with a flamethrower, aimed at a teenage theater employee. Steve hurdled over a trash can, moving people out of the way, directing them to safety and trying to put himself between himself and the mallgoers, but before he could, you did, hands out in front of you and what seemed to be an invisible shield poised there, redirecting the flames and protecting the movie theater employee that had nearly been caught in the crossfire.

A quick flick of your wrist knocked the attacker’s gun out of his hands and it slid across the floor to Steve’s feet. He chucked it into the fountain without a second thought, where it fizzled pathetically. The guy lunged at you with heavy metal gauntlets, and you dodged the first swing but caught the second in the face, falling backwards. When you landed, however ungracefully, you sent a blast of energy at the guy, knocking him over a plant and sprawling onto the tile floor.

While the guy was on the ground, Steve tackled him, wrenching the gauntlets off of his hands and chucking them away, too. Soon, the police arrived, apprehending the guy while mall security comforted the distressed mall patrons, ushering them to safety and medical attention.

You sat on a bench after, breathing heavy, a cut on your forehead. Steve walked over, interested in this superpowered rescuer, someone who wasn’t yet on the Avengers’ radar, but would most definitely be on the news the next day if the sheer amount of phone footage recorded was any indication.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad everyone is okay.” You told him, meeting his eyes.

He finally got a good look at you and froze, looking bewildered. A deer in headlights. “You’re…”

There you are, doll. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.

It was you. Of course it was you. Since the moment he’d been unfrozen, he’d been looking for you. His soulmate. The girl from the future that popped in on his twenty-fifth birthday, turned his whole life on its head, and then left without warning, hours after their first kiss. Back when he was five-foot-nothing with asthma and more medical conditions than he could even remember.

Back before he was anything.

And you’d loved him anyway. You’d given him the day of a lifetime and hope for not only a future, but for love. That someone could love him for him despite it all.

“I know.” You knew? “I…I don’t know what it is or…why I can do it. I’ve been like this since college.”

Your powers, you meant. You thought he was talking about your powers and not your name, which was burning a hole into his wrist beneath the thick leather band keeping it hidden.

“Right. Well, it’s…” He sighed, gathering his words, hiding the elation and pain behind a warm smile. “It’s a good thing you were here. I don’t have my shield on me.”

“Mine is built in.” You chuckled.

“You, uh…have a cut. On your forehead.”

“Oh, do I?” You reached up and found it with your fingers and they came away a bit bloody. “Shit.”

“Come on.” He offered you his hand and you took it, letting him lead you over to the counter of the theater. “Hi, do you have a first aid kit we could borrow?”

“Yeah, of course.” The girl at the counter said, rushing to grab it.

Steve patched you up with gentle hands, off in a corner on your own, in the room the theater used for birthday parties. Staring up at him, you finally realized the obvious. This was Captain America. And he was using a careful finger to spread a triple antibiotic ointment on your cut.

Play it cool, (Y/N).

“Do you do this often? The hero thing?” Steve asked, trying to sound somewhat indifferent. He couldn’t be, though. Not entirely. Not when it came to you.

“No.” You shrugged. “Haven’t had much opportunity, thankfully. I mean…I’d like to, I just didn’t know how to…get into it, I guess. Any email I sent to Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D. or whatever would end up on a slush pile.”

“Well, I’ve got some connections. If you’re seriously considering it. I can’t say I recommend it, but…Obviously you’ve got that protective instinct and you seem to work well under pressure.”

“I don’t know about that. My heart is about to leap out of my chest.” You admitted, laughing as he carefully laid a Bandaid over the cut, closing the kit.

“That makes two of us.”

“Well, if you think I’m really cut out for it…I’d love to help.”

***

It was three days later that Nick Fury got in touch with you. You thought it was a scam call at first, but no one else would possibly have the info about you that he did. That was S.H.I.E.L.D. for you, you supposed.

You packed up your apartment, your boxes of books, your old journals, your clothes and makeup, your life, and hopped in the jet that was waiting for you at the meeting place. Inside was a pilot with flaming red hair, Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. It was hard not to get a little starstruck.

She helped you load your things into the jet, let you settle into the copilot seat, and then you took off, soaring away from your old life and towards your new one, the mysterious, magnificent facility tucked into upstate New York, that iconic A emblazoned on the front of the building.

“Steve said you’re telekinetic. That’s cool.” She complimented with a smirk.

“Yeah, I’ve got force-field stuff. I don’t know what else, exactly.”

“Oh, we’ll figure all that out. Banner already has a list of tests he wants to run. Nothing too intense. I made him promise not to give you the lab rat treatment too soon.”

“Reassuring.” You chuckled.

“Wanda’s been decorating your room all day. It’s not often we get new blood.”

“I appreciate it. I can’t wait to meet everyone.”

“They can’t wait to meet you.”

The jet landed a little under an hour later and Natasha helped you haul boxes towards the front door, where Steve was waiting. It was like time slowed, that look in his eyes, glistening little stars.

“Come on, Rogers, these boxes aren’t going to move themselves.” Nat waved him over, snapping both of you out of your trance.

“Right, right.” He jogged over. “Is there anything heavy?”

“That one.” You pointed. “It’s got my candles in it.”

“On it.”

You grabbed a few tote bags, slinging your computer bag over your shoulder. A few others came out to help, Clint and Wanda namely, the latter of whom used her shimmering red powers to speed the process along. Were you any more confident in your own powers, you would do the same, but you hadn’t had much opportunity to use them yet, and you didn’t want to drop anything fragile on your first day.

You started unpacking the essentials, your smart speaker, your laptop, some books and your favorite candle. You put some clothes in the dresser, hung some up in the large sliding closet in the wall. Upon further examination, you had your own bathroom, too, which was nice. There was a wall tapestry with sunflowers on it, and several little knickknacks. Wanda’s loving touch.

Someone cleared their throat and you turned to find Steve there, arms crossed, leaning in the doorway.

“Hi there, um, just checking in. Figured you might want a tour when you got settled in. No rush, of course.”

“I would love a tour. I can already tell I’m gonna get lost in this place.”

He grinned. “Not on my watch. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

Steve walked with you through the office spaces, the computer labs, Bruce’s lab, Tony’s. Tony was in the city, but Bruce was home and introduced himself with a dad joke about the Hulk and a warm handshake. You saw the training facility, a giant room with floor to ceiling windows, a wall of mirrors, practice dummies, landing mats, and plenty of sparring weapons. There was, separately, a fully furnished gym, and then the basics, a large, modern kitchen, living areas and lounges, study spaces, a library, a party room with a bar, and a very fancy coffee machine.

You could see yourself making a home here.

Steve walked you back to the hallway where all the bedrooms were. “If you need anything or have any questions, my room is just down the hall on the left. Wanda is next door. Dinner is at six.”

“Six o’clock it is. Thank you, Cap.”

“You can call me Steve.”

“Steve.” You nodded, slowly accepting the fact that you were now on a first name basis with Captain America. “And you can call me (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N).” He said, some twinge of nostalgia at the end of his words. You turned back into your room to get some more unpacking done and Steve walked back down the hall, taking a deep breath and looking up at the ceiling, doing his best to hold in his tears.

…Ready For It?

You spent the first few days in your room for the most part, unpacking but also hiding, if you were honest. You met Vision. He seemed nice. He also had the ability to phase through walls, apparently. Still no sign of Thor, but you weren’t holding your breath. You were sure he was a busy guy.

Sam Wilson introduced himself with the same offer everyone else had so far, to let them know if you needed anything. You appreciated it.

And then, finally, there was Tony, whose dry humor came across immediately. He sized you up, drilling questions about where you went to college, what you majored in, what your top three movies from the 1980s were. You were pretty sure he liked you, but you didn’t think he trusted you. And that was okay. You knew that was something you’d have to earn around there.

“No soulmark yet, kid?” He asked, eyeing up your bare wrist.

“Not yet.” You confirmed.

“That makes you what, twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

“Twenty-four. As of last month, actually.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Well that’s exciting. I’m sure you’re counting down the days.”

“More or less.” You chuckled, catching Steve watching you out of the corner of your eye. He did that a lot, you noticed.

Before Tony could come up with some witty comeback, the lights flashed red, accompanied by a loud siren.

“Vis? What’s going on?” Tony asked as Vision walked into the room, his sophisticated sweater melting into the uniform you’d seen on the news, red and green with a golden cape.

“There seems to be a stir at the local fairgrounds. Tremors and gunshots. Hostages.”

“Alright, let’s go pay them a visit then.” Tony pressed a button on his watch and transformed into Iron Man in front of your very eyes. “You can stay here or come with us. Up to you. But suit up fast. We’re out in five.”

You stood there for a moment, waiting for the shock to wear off, but the sirens definitely weren’t helping.

“Stick with me.” Steve instructed, voice calm, confident.

“Okay.” You nodded, following after him, towards the hangar where they kept the jets.

Natasha was standing at a locker, pulling her catsuit on with impressive speed, Clint beside her, loading a quiver with arrows, checking his bow.

“Nat, can you get her ready?”

“Baby’s first mission?” She asked, impressed.

You nodded, waiting for orders.

“Well, it should be an easy one, from the sound of it. Here, put this on. We’ll get you your own gear in the next few weeks.”

She chucked you an extra suit and you did your best to shimmy into it. Surprisingly, you could actually move in it. There were holsters, but you weren’t gun trained, so you figured it was best to leave that to the professionals. Instead, you followed the others onto the jet, hoping your forcefields and blossoming battle instincts would be enough to protect you out there.

***

The fair had devolved quickly into madness. There was fire, screaming, running, and gunshots. You flinched at the onslaught of it, but followed the others out anyway, listening to the voice in your earpiece, Steve’s voice, as he issued orders. You were put on civilian evacuation with Sam while the others engaged with the attackers. Six of them.

You did your job diligently, ushering people to a safe distance while law enforcement arrived. Until one of the attackers engaged with you, however, mistaking you for a civilian. Something snapped. In an instant your flight instinct vanished, replaced with the need to fight. He punched at you and you countered, sweeping a leg under him and then using a forcefield to knock him into the cornfield.

One of them launched a bazooka at Tony while he wasn’t looking, and without a thought, you trapped the explosive in a bubble, forcing it into the air where it exploded harmlessly, away from everyone.

And when the dust settled, the rest of the team turned to look at you, sharing looks with each other.

“Thanks for the save, kid. I owe you one.” Tony complimented, clapping you on the back on his way into the jet. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

Your heart raced with the adrenaline of battle, the feeling of a job well done. Steve gave you a thumbs-up, a proud grin. His risk had paid off. You weren’t a total failure.

“You doin’ okay?” He asked, slinging his shield onto his back.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You replied, letting the energy fizzle back into your palms.

He watched with interest at the faint crackles of blue that made up your powers. “You did good out there.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “Thanks, I—"

“Alright new girl, were are we stopping for food?” Natasha asked, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“I get to pick?” You asked with a laugh.

“And don’t be afraid to pick something fancy. It’s Tony’s treat.” Clint added, walking with the rest of you onto the jet. You strapped in while the others tried their darndest to influence your pick, bickering like siblings. Like your family.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

Waypoint

Your training started shortly after that first mission. Bruce took all your vitals, measured them before, during, and after use of your powers. He recorded said powers with every device known to man until he had your ability down to a science. He had a hunch they were of cosmic origin, but you had no idea when you could have possible come in contact with something like that.

Next came a uniform. At the moment, it was a dark indigo color, something similar to navy blue, but leaning a bit more purple. The chest area was left blank, Tony claiming he’d add a symbol once his graphic design team came up with something. He did add some accents up the arms and down the legs, thin, light blue lines that matched the color of your powers.

Natasha and Clint gave you a few crash courses on weapons and your aim left a bit to be desired, but your hand-eye coordination wasn’t bad. Sam put you on a modified military workout regimen to get in shape, get your stamina up with the rest of the team.

You practiced making forcefields, seeing how big you could make them, how small, how much force they could endure before they broke. Natasha shot some bullets at them, and your fields caught them, allowing you to kill their momentum and drop them harmlessly to the ground. They could withstand some electricity, but not Wanda’s powers. And they held against Steve’s superstrength, but not for long. Still, a few hits from a supersoldier was more than most could endure, so it would buy you some time in the field.

Eventually, you moved on from just forcefields and started learning to move objects. It turned out, you were not limited to bubbles. You could create platforms underneath things. This evolved into creating platforms underneath people, that they could jump on, or ride on top of while you moved them.

You practiced using them for transport too, but it was harder standing on them while controlling them, especially if you tried to jump from platform to platform. It was a bit like patting your head and rubbing your tummy, and it would take a lot of practice.

There weren’t many missions, and the ones that popped up, you didn’t get sent on. They were high level things, and while your powers were improving, and very quickly, Bruce was always quick to reassure you, you weren’t ready for covert ops yet, especially ones that had been months in the making.

Every time Steve got sent off, he left with that sad little half-smile of his, the one where he pressed his lips together, eyes glittering like a lake under moonlight. He’d give you some words of comfort, usually dealing with how short the mission was supposed to be. It didn’t often make you feel better.

Bruce stayed behind with you, most times. More like all of the times. Code Greens, as they were called, were seldom necessary, and besides, as they had learned with Wanda back during the Ultron days, Bruce could be a liability if someone else got in his head. But it was nice not being completely alone in the big empty facility.

“He always looks so sad when he leaves.” You noted, sipping from a mug of warm tea. Steve had left only moments before, the last member of the team that was shipping out.

Bruce thought about it for a moment. “Does he?”

“Oh. I don’t know. Maybe I don’t know him that well.” You shrugged, the sounds of Animal Crossing resonating from the TV.

“You know, he has, lately. He didn’t used to.” Bruce noted.

“Weird.”

“Uh-huh.” He replied absentmindedly. “So explain to me this game?”

“Okay, so you move to this island and have to spend all your money paying off debt to this raccoon…”

It was in another training session that there was a malfunction. A shock grenade went off dangerously close to Sam. Before you could even process what you were doing, your hand shot out, a bright, pulsating star crackling in front of him, another, second star on the other side of the room. Steve assessed the situation and used the shield to knock Sam into the star, neutralizing the grenade right after. There was a bright flash and Sam appeared on the other side of the room, tumbling out of the second star.

You froze, curling your fingers and closing both of them. There was a slight pinch in your shoulder, near the base of your neck. The others all stared.

“Wait, what was that?” Bruce asked over the intercom.

“You did that?” Steve asked, motioning to Sam as he walked over.

“I think so.”

“What was that?”

Natasha asked, looking you up and down. Sam stared at you like you’d sprouted a third eye.

“I don’t know.”

“Do it again.” Bruce insisted. “Hang on, I’m coming in there.”

The door from the observation room opened and Bruce joined the rest of you in the circle that was steadily forming, all of them watching you, waiting.

“I don’t know, it was just like…” You focused on that feeling again, the desperation to get Sam the hell away from that grenade, and as though you were punching a hole through reality, it opened in the center of the circle, an eight-pointed star, bobbing and ebbing and flowing, made of the light blue energy you were so familiar with.

Carefully, you opened another one, ten feet in the air above the first. Clint shrugged and chucked a tennis ball into it. Sure enough, it popped up to the second one, before falling down through the first one again. This continued until eventually you closed the bottom one, letting the tennis ball bounce harmlessly across the floor.

“Well shit.”

“Waypoints.” Bruce said, deep in thought. “Teleportation. This…this opens up a lot of doors.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve murmured.

“Hey, that’s kind of cool. Waypoint.” Clint said, drawing attention to it. “What do you think?”

“What, like as a codename?” You asked, weighing it as an option.

“I like it.” Sam grinned. “Waypoint.”

“Waypoint.” You repeated, trying it out. Hi, I’m Waypoint. I’m an Avenger.

It sounded silly, but it was getting more official by the day. There was, of course, only one way to make it official official, and that was with one of Tony Stark’s famed parties…

Wonderstruck

You let out a sigh, staring at your reflection in the mirror. It was the night of the big party. Your first, as an Avenger, and the official induction of what Tony was deeming the second class of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Sam: the Falcon, Wanda: the Scarlet Witch, Vision, and You: Waypoint.

He’d gotten you a dress to wear, one that matched your uniform. It was long, sleek, that navy blue/indigo color. It glittered like stars and moved like a dream. And in the middle of it, poised at the base of the sweetheart neckline, was the eight-pointed star that Tony had turned into your symbol.

Your hair and makeup were done, and all that was left was the zipper.

Someone knocked on the door.

“It’s open!” You called, expecting Natasha or Wanda. Instead, it was Steve, who, when he saw you were unzipped, pulled the door almost all the way closed and shielded his eyes with his hand.

“Sorry! I’ll leave—”

“Wait, actually, could you help me zip this up? I can’t reach.”

Steve nodded, slowly lowering his hand and entering the room. He closed the door behind him to give you some privacy. He was dressed in a sharp black suit with a blue tie. His lapel pin looked like a tiny version of his shield.

“Wow…” He murmured, taking you in. “You look great, (Y/N).”

“You think so? I’m not sure blue is really my color…”

He scoffed. “It most certainly is.” He swept the hair off of your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the reflection in the mirror as he gently pulled the zipper higher until it was secure in place. “In more ways than one.”

“Yeah, guess so.” You agreed, nervous energy crackling around your fingers, blue as ever. You dispelled it, snapping out of it.

Steve looked at the two of you in the mirror for a long time before turning towards the door again. Halfway there, though, he turned back around, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a flat velvet box. “This is, um…for you.”

“Oh! Thank you.” You reached for it, heart racing. Inside was a necklace, its pendant a silver star with eight points. In the center, an aquamarine gem. You gasped, looking at it. It was beautiful, delicate. “Steve, this is beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“It’s the least I could do.” He said, offering his hand. “May I?”

“Please.” You said, handing him the necklace and moving your hair out of the way. He did the clasp behind your neck. It settled between your collarbones.

“There. Now it’s official.” He whispered.

“Almost.”

“Almost.” Steve agreed, offering you his elbow. “Right this way.”

You looped your arm through his, letting him lead you out into the initial murmurs of the party. What Natasha dubbed the “extended family” had shown up. Rhodey, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Happy Hogan, Pepper Potts, and, of course, Thor.

He was a sight, that was for sure. He towered over everyone else at 6’5”, arms the size of tree trunks. It was a bit intimidating to say the very least.

“Rogers!” Thor bellowed.

“Thor! I didn’t think you were coming.”

He grinned. “I never miss a feast.” His eyes fell on you. “And you must be this new team member Banner spoke of.”

“I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“The honor is mine.”

“Here.” Natasha handed you a champagne flute. She eyed up your necklace. “That’s cute.”

“Steve gave it to me.”

She quirked an eyebrow and looked up at the supersoldier, who still had your arm. “Steve has good taste.”

“Steve had help.” He admitted, smiling sheepishly.

“I’d get you one too, Rogers, but Thor has the strong stuff.” Natasha said, patting his other arm while you took a sip of the champagne. It was sweet, tangy. “God’s favorite boy scout has trouble getting drunk.”

“My tolerance is too good.”

“I think we just need to get you a Four Loko. Or two.”

“A what?” Steve asked.

“It’s like four drinks in one can. They’re insane. I tried in college, but tapped out halfway through.”

He considered it for a moment, letting out a laugh. “See, that just might work.”

Tony wandered around the lounge, greeting everyone. He looked you up and down. “You look beautiful, Portal Girl.”

You internally chuckled. The others had advised you not to feed his ego when he used his nicknames. “Thank you, Tony.”

“And you’re also here, Rogers.”

“Tony.” Steve nodded.

“You her date tonight?” He asked, motioning to your joint arms.

“Oh. Yeah, I suppose I am.” Steve agreed, not budging. Neither were you.

“Well, I hope you’ve taken some dance lessons since last time, Rogers. I’m sure (Y/N) wouldn’t want to have her feet walked all over.”

Steve chuckled and rolled his eyes as Tony moved onto his next targets. Sam emerged, looking very sharp in a red suit. Even Vision had dressed up for the occasion, Wanda beside him wearing an elegant red dress. The two of them talked and laughed on the other side of the room and you smiled. You could tell when you moved in that he cared about her.

You wondered if robots could have soulmates, too. If any android had a soul, surely it was Vision. Maybe you’d ask him about it sometime.

Once all of the expected guests were accounted for, Tony did the briefest ceremony in the history of ceremonies, introducing you all to the few members of the press he had allowed to come. You spent the beginning of the evening shaking hands, networking, and then once the strangers left, the real party started.

Nat switched you to something a lot stronger to champagne, and she was running the bar, so it was easy to get refills. Clint and Thor were arm wrestling on one of the tables which was…hilarious, admittedly.

Steve found you after a few hours apart. “Hey, will you be my partner?”

“Sure, for what?”

He laughed, loosening up quite a bit with Thor’s Asgardian mead in his system. “Sam and Bruce are trying to teach me how to play Beer Ball or something.”

“Beer Pong?”

“That one, yeah.” He nodded. “Winners play Clint and Nat.”

“That checks out.” You chuckled. “Yeah, I’m game. I haven’t played since college, though.”

“I haven’t played ever so I’m sure you’re a step ahead of me anyway.”

“We’ll see about that. Your physics skills are pretty good, what with the shield and all.” You complimented, earning that charming smile of his. “We might just give them a run for their money.”

“Enough flirting, kids, get over here.” Bruce grinned as he finished lining up the cups.

“You know how to play Beer Pong?” You asked, plucking a ping pong ball off of the table and fiddling with it.

“Kid, I have seven PhDs. I have played my share of Beer Pong.” Bruce admitted.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. It was nice to see the Avengers loosen up like this, have a good time together, really truly bond.

You gave Steve the basic rundown of the rules: no elbows past the edge of the table, balls back, stoplight, island, and that if you let Sam and Bruce get too many cups, you and Steve would get “schwaisted” as the kids said, or, at the very least, you would. Steve would probably be fine.

“Ladies first.” Sam said, giving you the second ping pong ball, one of which, you handed to Steve.

“You’re gonna regret that.” You said, rubbing the ball between your hands before perfectly bouncing it into the cup at the front of the pyramid. “Your turn, Steve.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He said, sinking the ball into the same cup. “I believe that’s three cups, gentlemen.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. He shared a look with Bruce. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“You’re telling me.” Bruce chuckled, retrieving the ping pong ball and rolling it back. He started drinking the contents of the first cup, leaving the other two to Sam. “Alright, do your worst.”

Needless to say, you wiped the floor with the other two. Barely even gave them a chance. Which is why it was only fair that Clint and Natasha kicked the absolute shit out of the two of you.

You struggled to down your third cup, which is why when you reached for the fourth, Steve shook his head and took it from you, only offering a wink when you opened your mouth to protest.

“Hey! Steve, it’s supposed to be five each.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, she already finished hers.” Steve shrugged, chugging another like it was water. “Right, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah absolutely. What he said.” You shrugged.

You helped clean up the mess a bit after the game was over, rounding up empty cups, wiping down the table, and then washing your hands as Tony switched the music to something upbeat, dancing music.

“Come on, let’s dance.” Steve urged, clearly toeing the line between tipsy and drunk. He reached out for your hand and you couldn’t resist. You didn’t even try.

You let him lead you out to the middle of the room, where Wanda and Vision were already dancing together and looking adorable doing it.

“I thought you couldn’t dance.” You laughed as he spun you around to the music.

“I’m a quick learner.” He whispered, mouth against your ear.

You swore your entire body flushed red, but you let your feet lead you through the dance. Steve took both of your hands, swinging you out and then back in, spinning you around. You blamed the alcohol on what happened next. Your heel caught on the fabric of your dress and you fell over the back of one of the couches, tugging Steve down with you.

He laughed, using an arm to push himself off of you, hovering, eyes soft. “Sorry.”

“It’s my fault. You’ve got me falling for you, Rogers.” You murmured, gazing up at him through your eyelashes.

You said it as a joke, a quip, but there was some truth in it. More than some. It had been a magical, magical night. And if it weren’t for the leather cuff on his wrist, you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with him.

Steve closed his eyes, smiling and sitting up, helping you upright again. “I’ll go get us some water.”

You sighed and sat back against the couch, heart hammering in your chest.

Natasha perched on the armrest, looking down at you. “What was that?”

“Not sure. I think I fumbled the bag. If…if there even was a bag I guess.” You chuckled, shrugging.

“No, there is something there. I can see it.” Natasha said, thinking as she nursed a glass of wine. “Hmmm…”

Steve stood in the kitchen, getting two glasses of filtered water from the fridge. He exhaled a deep sigh, leaning against it. He replayed the moment in his head over and over. The look in your eyes, the way your necklace glimmered in the light, the sound of your voice, the flush of your cheeks. You were catching feelings for him, that much was clear. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Steve Rogers, I am so sorry you will not hear me say these words until after I go back tomorrow, but I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life.

Maybe it was a good thing, he reasoned, thinking back on his first night with you all those years ago. But you still couldn’t know why. Not yet.

It was going to kill him to keep it a secret for ten more months.

Timeless

Sherbert rays of the sunrise lit the training room, filling it with a warm orange glow. You were sitting on the floor, stretching your legs while you listened to music. That was another thing on the growing list of skills that had improved during your stint as an Avenger: your flexibility.

Suddenly, Steve was standing over you, saying something you couldn’t hear due to the noise cancelling headphones over your ears.

You slid one off, looking up at him. “Good morning.”

“Morning. You’re here early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged, reaching for your other leg.

“Sorry to hear that. Wanna talk about it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I think I drank too much caffeine before bed last night. Learned my lesson. No caffeine after six.”

“That’s a good rule. Mind if I stretch with you?” He asked.

“I don’t mind.” You tossed your headphones onto your workout bag and connected your phone to the Bluetooth speakers, putting on some music you could both listen to.

“I recognize her. This girl’s voice.”

“Taylor Swift.”

“Ah. Yes, her. I keep hearing about her.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” You laughed. “Have you liked any of her songs so far?”

“I don’t know if I could name one for you, to be honest.” He listened to the song that was playing. “This one’s not bad, though.”

“I’ll send you some recommendations. There are some I think you’d really vibe with.”

He smiled. “I’d really like that.”

The others came in not long after, did their warm-ups, and then Steve briefed everyone on the plan for their training session, one in which everyone would swap weapons, practice using each other’s things in case they ever had to in battle if one of their teammates got disarmed.

You started with Clint. He showed you the absolute basics of archery, how to pull back the bow, how to notch an arrow, how to aim, taking into account distance. You fired a few arrows into a target and did okay, you supposed, but you would need some practice if you wanted to actually get good at it. Years of it, realistically.

Natasha showed you how to use her electric batons, which were fun, but did intimidate you a little. You definitely did not want to end up on the wrong end of those things.

And then, inevitably, you were standing in front of Steve. He offered you his shield, which on its own seemed daunting. You held it for a second, assessing the weight of it. It was noticeably lighter than you thought it would be.

“Woah.”

“Yeah. People always expect it to be heavier.” He said, a hand resting on his hip as he watched you hold it. It looked so right in your hands, he decided. “It’s good for a lot of things, but first…” Carefully, he helped you put your arm through the straps on the back of it, holding it in front of your body in its primary and most famous purpose.

You let out a sigh, shaking your head. “This is so crazy.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, you have no idea.” You chuckled, waving it around a bit.

“You keep looking at it like it’s Thor’s hammer or something.” He teased.

“Feels like it.”

“Well the good news is, this thing is not password protected by some Asgardian magic words. The bad news is, that means the bad guys can pick it up, too.” Steve said, gently positioning your body in an offensive stance, nudging a foot with his own, switching your arms around. “You can use it to bash somebody head on, or you can angle it a bit to get a more direct blow. It will take the force of most things. I…I actually kind of don’t know the limits. Hasn’t failed me yet. The paint does come off from time to time, though, so don’t worry about that.”

“Okay, wow.” You nodded. “Good to know.”

“I trust you with it.” He said, eyes meeting yours.

You smiled, heart racing. “I’m honored.”

He showed you a few other tricks, and then training wrapped up for the day, everyone grabbing some water, taking a shower, or making plans for lunch. Once you walked off with Wanda, Nat cornered Steve.

“What was that?” She asked, that catlike grin on her face.

“What was what?”

“I saw it, you know, the way you looked at her. I think you’ve got a soft spot.”

“Yeah, well, I did rope her into all this. Can’t say I don’t feel responsible for her.” He dodged expertly, weaving through Natasha’s mental gymnastics with skill and precision, or so he thought.

“Uh-huh sure. Well, she, Wanda, and I are going antiquing this afternoon. You should come. After all, you know quite a bit about vintage valuables.”

He laughed. “Hey!”

She walked off, smiling to herself. Steve thought about it for all of four seconds before he decided he would tag along. He hadn’t been to an antique shop in this century, so he couldn’t imagine the kinds of things they had there now. He might even learn a thing or two.

***

After a quick lunch, Steve did decide to tag along. It wound up being him, Vision, and the girls, which he certainly didn’t mind.

You and Wanda were buzzing with excitement, Natasha looking on and following behind with Steve. Vision lingered, studying everything, picking things up to get a closer look. He had projected a human disguise over himself, something Steve didn’t know he could even do, but it seemed to work. No one had batted an eye at him since they stepped foot in the shop.

“This place is…huge.” Steve said, glancing down the hall of the seemingly endless store.

“Biggest one in the state.” You chimed. “It’s the whole city block.”

“There’s a basement, too. And a second floor.” Natasha informed him, patting his arm. “This is gonna be an all day kinda thing.”

“Oh undoubtedly.” He said, setting down the teacup in his hands, a petite, floral thing.

You sifted through a box of records, picking up the soundtrack of the Muppets Movie.

“Is that a frog?”

“This is Kermit thee Frog, show some respect.” You laughed, putting the record in your basket.

“Kermit?” Steve asked again, seeming genuine.

“Oh I forgot you missed the Muppets, oh my god.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound familiar.”

“We need to fix that as soon as possible.” You told him. “Can’t have you missing out on cultural icons like Gonzo and Miss Piggy.”

“Okay now you’re making things up.” He chuckled, shuffling through the records as well. You showed him a few good ones and he added them to his basket, saying something about how he’s been meaning to use his new record player.

Wanda browsed some vintage rings, picking out a few, and Natasha rifled through a rack of vintage dresses, most of them from the forties and fifties from the look of it. Nat held up a navy blue one, silky, with short ruffled sleeves and buttons down the front. Steve froze, looking at it. For a moment, it looked just a little too familiar. Like the dress you had worn that night.

Eventually Nat put the dress back. You hadn’t seen it. You were distracted by a shelf of VHS tapes, looking for the old Barbie movies, whatever those were. Wanda was with you, on the next shelf over, calling out movie names when she found something cool.

Steve wandered off on his own, looking around at the different trinkets and toys, old letterman jackets and jewelry, dishes that may or may not contain lead. Finally, he came upon a little room full of art, paintings and photographs, handmade pottery.

Time stood still.

He stared at the large painting on the wall, oil on canvas. Two star-crossed lovers dancing in a bar in Brooklyn, a little guy with a dream, dancing with the most beautiful girl in the world, twirling in her dark blue dress. His heart raced. He never thought he’d see this painting again.

It had been his last painting before leaving for Camp Lehigh, the last painting he did before his life and body changed forever. He’d used the last of his paints to make it, every color mixed with care to get the exact color of your hair, your eyes, your lips, all from memory.

And it was here in front of him. When he had been presumed dead, it must have been sold off. He didn’t really have anyone left it could go to.

In that moment, he wasn’t Captain America. Standing in his shoes was that little guy from Brooklyn.

“Woah.” You murmured, suddenly right next to him. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it…it is.” He agreed, looking away from it. He didn’t want you to get too close of a look at it. However, that didn’t stop you from walking forward to inspect it closer.

“‘Soulmates.’ Artist unknown.” You read from the plaque. “Oh, it’s from the 40s. 1943. Does it look familiar?”

“Yeah, actually. Bucky liked that bar.” Steve said, pointing to the details of the interior. “It’s a little place in Brooklyn, called Val’s. Well, it was I guess. I don’t know if it’s still open anymore.”

Your eyes lingered on the woman’s face, on the man’s. You didn’t say anything about how they looked, about the uncanny resemblance to yourself and Steve. Instead, you sighed. “Someday, I want to be that in love with someone.”

He just about cried. But instead, he gathered his words, put a hand on your shoulder, and told you with confidence, “You will be.”

***

Hours later, when you were all shopped out and you’d checked out with your things, Steve stayed at the counter while the rest of you went to the car.

“Hey, um, that painting in the art room. The soulmates in the bar. I’m interested in buying it. Would it be possible to have it held here for a while, though?”

“Oh I’m sure we could arrange something,” said the old man at the counter with a smile and a nod. He started writing out the purchase form.

Steve glanced back towards where it was, that fragment of his soul he didn’t think he’d ever see again. He knew the fact that he’d stumbled upon it was nothing short of fate.

Wildest Dreams

It had been Tony’s idea. Of course it had. It always was, wasn’t it? He’d insisted that all the members of the team who hadn’t yet been exposed to Wanda’s mind manipulation should be, just in case there was a misfire during combat and one of you got caught in the crossfire. It would be important to see how each of you reacted, the kinds of things you saw so you’d be able to snap out of it.

Theoretically, of course.

This left Natasha, Steve, Thor, Bruce, and Tony out, as they’d already had their fun with Wanda’s magic. The rest of you, however, were waiting for your turn.

Wanda felt conflicted about it. She didn’t want to hurt her friends on accident, let alone on purpose, but Tony was insistent, and he had some of the others on his side. Namely, Rhodey, who had been hanging out more and more, and Clint, who’d had his experience with a different kind of mind control shortly before the Battle of New York.

It was part of why he’d volunteered to go first. Once he came to, he gave you a thumbs-up, shaking it off and walking over to Natasha.

“You sure you’re good?” She checked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. No big deal. Who’s next?”

Sam looked at you and the despondent look on your face before volunteering himself to go next. Rhodey went in solidarity, despite being too busy with his government responsibilities to be a full-time member of the team. And then it was your turn. You stood next to Wanda. She offered an apologetic smile before red crackled around her fingertips and it hit you.

For the first few seconds, you were fine. You felt tingly. You blinked a few times and your eyes felt weird. No doubt, your eyes were red, like the others’ turned when they were under the influence of Wanda’s powers.

“Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Steve asked, voice urgent.

“Think so.” You replied, mouth full of cotton. It felt like that time in college someone had given you an edible that was too strong. The first and last time you’d ever gotten high. Like you were sinking and melting. Your legs buckled and Steve surged forward, catching you before you hit the floor, gently lowering you into a comfortable position. “Hey, you’re pretty strong…” You murmured, head lolling onto his shoulder.

The others all looked at each other. Clint dragged over a bean bag and Steve gently lowered you onto it, adjusting it so you’d be comfortable.

“She’ll be okay, Steve.” Natasha reassured him, the guilt in his eyes palpable, yet still not explained. Not entirely. She had a sneaking suspicion whatever it was had something to do with the name written on his wrist, the name he wouldn’t show anyone. Not her, not Nick Fury, not even Sam.

“Yeah, I know.” He nodded, slowly taking a step back. His eyes didn’t leave you. He had to force himself to look away. “I, um…I have to go…There’s a…” Steve motioned towards the door before leaving the room, while you sat there, catatonic, off in your own little world.

***

“Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Steve asked, his voice close. “That was a long nap. Forget to set your alarm?”

You opened your eyes and you were laying down on the couch. Steve was standing at the island in the kitchen, cooking something. It smelled good. Really good. He was wearing a button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, still wearing his slacks from work. He had music playing from the record player, your vast collection of hits from decades of music, and he was still hooked on 40s jazz. You supposed you couldn’t blame him.

“You cooking?”

“Mmhmm.” He nodded. “Come over here and get a taste.”

You followed, out to the kitchen. He set down his wooden spoon and swiftly intercepted you, pulling you up onto the countertop, kissing you deeply, a hand running through your hair. Your hand came up to frame his cheek. He was growing a bit of a beard these days. You liked it, thought it suited him.

You sighed against his lips and then pulled away to look at him. He grabbed your wrist, pressing a long kiss to your soulmark. Three simple words. Steven Grant Rogers.

“I love you, doll.” His words cut through you, eyes tender and sincere. “Always have.”

But this wasn’t your Steve. And it wasn’t your reality, given away by the slightest tinge of red in his irises.

It wasn’t real. And neither was the glimmering wedding ring around your finger.

***

You blinked awake, the power dispersing from your head, leaving you shockingly sober. And hungry. That familiar sting was back, right between your neck and shoulder. You wondered how long it’d been.

Clint was in the room with you. So was Sam. Natasha was gone. Wanda too, surprisingly. As was Steve.

You got chills even thinking about him, the phantom of the wedding ring still clinging to your finger.

“You alright?” Sam asked, making eye contact with you first.

“Yeah, I’m good. How long…?”

“Three minutes. New record.” Clint said with a grin.

“Oh.” No wonder it had felt so short. Part of you wanted it to last longer.

“We’re sending Rhodey to get some food, if you’re hungry.” Sam said.

“Where from?”

“The golden arches.”

“I could go for some nuggies.” You admitted. “A McFlurry, perchance.”

Clint laughed. “How did I know you would say that?”

In the kitchen, Steve stood, hands on the counter, mug of coffee steaming in front of him, untouched. He stared at the cupboard door.

“That must be one interesting cupboard. You’ve been standing there for like five whole minutes.”

“It’s only been three.” Steve said, glancing at the clock.

“And the fact that you know down to the exact minute is why I’m so intrigued.” Natasha chimed, tilting her head. “What is going on with her? I have never seen you look at anyone like that in the entire time I’ve known you. Is she…what, the kid of an old friend? Grandkid?”

“It’s nothing, Natasha. She’s the newest member of the team, I’m just worried—”

“Steve.” She said, cutting him off, that look in her eye. “If you want to get all defensive about it, fine. Keep your secrets.” She sighed. “But if you need someone, I’m here. Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Steve let out a long sigh, weighing his options. It was something to the tune of eight months until your birthday. That was still a long time. A lot of time for that secret to slip through the cracks and, potentially, break the timeline. The Butterfly Effect was something he had researched extensively. Your future together was something he wasn’t willing to risk.

No, it was too important that you stay in the dark, even if that meant keeping his friends in the dark, too.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. But I’m fine, really. It’s nothing.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded unconvinced. “Well, she’s out of it. Clint just texted. She wants twenty chicken nuggets and an Oreo McFlurry.”

The relief was immediate. You were okay. He could only wonder what you had seen in there, and why it had been so quick. The others had been under for upwards of ten minutes. You’d only been down three. “Well good. I’ll let Rhodey know.”

Invisible String

It was late. A few weeks after your tussle with the Scarlet Witch, if you could even call it that. You could tell Wanda felt guilty about the whole thing, but it wasn’t her fault. If anything it was Tony’s. Sure, the exercise had prepared you for a worst case scenario, but it had also dug a very awkward gap between you and Steve. You could barely even look at him without wanting to burst into tears.

He had his soulmate, whoever they were. You really needed to let it go.

You walked down to the kitchen to get a cold drink, but there was already someone sitting at the table. Steve, sitting there, hand resting on his chin, papers spread out in front of him. There was a picture you recognized as Bucky Barnes.

You’d heard whispers of him around the Compound from time to time. Steve’s best friend turned Hydra assassin, brainwashed for decades and now, rogue, out there somewhere. Sam always seemed to be looking for the guy. Natasha and Clint, too. And there had never been any sign of him. Well, until now, it seemed.

On the TV, Star Wars was playing. Empire Strikes Back. Steve looked up at it every so often.

“Star Wars?” You asked.

He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Your first time?”

“No. They were the first things I watched when I was out of the ice. I like them a lot. The hope, the Force, the Jedi stuff, the music.” He shrugged. “They’re good.”

“Who’s your favorite?”

Steve smiled, sheepish. “Han Solo.”

“And here I thought you’d say Luke Skywalker.”

“He’s great, too. You like Star Wars?”

“Yeah, I used to be obsessed with them in high school. Haven’t seen them in a while, though. I’m something of a Leia girl myself.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“Does it?”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded. “You’ve got that spark.”

“What order did you watch them in?”

“Nat made me watch the originals first.” He confessed. “I like the prequels, though. Well, two of the prequels. Phantom Menace is…”

“Oh yeah. You’re not alone in that.” You laughed softly. “You know, I never really pegged you as a sci-fi nerd.”

“Yeah, well, someone I really care about seemed to like them a whole lot, so I knew I had to check them out.” He shrugged. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Getting a drink. What are you doing up so late?”

He looked down at the papers and then back up at you. “Oh. Yeah, this is just…Trying to get some stuff figured out.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You offered.

He thought about it for a long moment, letting out a little sigh before nodding. That was the only reassurance you needed before grabbing a can of soda from the fridge and plopping down into the seat next to him.

“They found him. Clint and Natasha. They think he’s hiding out in Kentucky somewhere.” Steve said. He shook his head. “He saved my life a few years ago. After all the brainwashing, he still pulled me out of the water. I don’t know how much of him is still him, but…”

“But it’s worth a try.” You reasoned. “Obviously he’s been through a lot, but he must be pretty strong to have made it through everything.”

“I don’t know when I’m going. They haven’t narrowed it down all the way. And Tony doesn’t want me to even go at all.”

“Tony is full of shit.”

He laughed. “Yeah…”

“If you want to go, you should go. And if you need me, I’m there. You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

He met your eyes with a sobering gaze. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, of course.” You agreed. “When, uh, when I was in the eighth grade, my class took a trip down to DC. There’s a Captain America exhibit in the Air and Space Museum, it had just opened. We learned about you and Bucky. How close you were, what happened. There are videos of me just crying uncontrollably there, learning about it. They had to take me outside, get me some water. I couldn’t go back in. I don’t even know why. Something about it…”

“About me?” Steve whispered.

“That’s embarrassing. I shouldn’t have told you that.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“It’s not embarrassing. It’s sweet.” Steve said, reaching for your hand on the table. You let him take it, fingers curling.

“So when you found me that day, I guess I always knew it would lead to something like this. A stroke of fate, or something.” You admitted. “Some part of me knew that you would mean something to me someday. I guess I never thought we would be friends.”

“How old were you?”

“God, this would have been like ten years ago at this point. I was like fourteen or something. I was twenty-one when they found you in the ice. It was all over the news my sophomore year of college, kind of right when I was figuring my powers out, actually. And then everything was all over the news and I…went into hiding more or less, hoping it wouldn’t be me on the TV next.”

“Until the mall?”

“Yeah. But I couldn’t just…let it happen, you know? It was like some part of me knew that I had these powers for a reason, and that if I didn’t stop it, who would? I didn’t know you were there, obviously, but, I think even if I had, I still would have jumped in.”

He smiled softly, eyes earnest. He gave your hand a squeeze. “Well I’m really glad you did, for the record. I think we’re all a little better off because of it.”

There was a moment of quiet. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“How old are you?”

“Oh, um…I’m ninety-eight.”

You chuckled. “No, like how old are you really?”

Steve took a breath. No one ever asked him that. No one really cared about that. No one except you, it seemed. “I’m not sure. I’d have to do some math. I think I’m twenty-eight maybe. Twenty-nine.”

“Thought so.” You smiled. “Well, Steve, whenever you get it figured out, say the word and I’ll suit up. We’ll bring him home.”

Out of the Woods

The next mission you were sent on wasn’t to bring back Bucky. Not yet. Instead, you were on the team that got deployed into a rainforest to break up a rogue Hydra base. It was warm, almost too warm for your uniform, but you were grateful for the coverage, especially when they started shooting.

You ran down the makeshift path, evading enemies and throwing up forcefields to stop them in their tracks. Thor was in town, so he was zipping around through the trees with his hammer, the force of it bringing some down every once in a while.

“On your six.” Steve reported through the comms. You dodged out of the way and sure enough, a Hydra agent tumbled ahead, tripped by a small field you cast at his feet. A few of Natasha’s bullets took care of that.

“Thanks.” You replied.

“Don’t mention it. I could actually use some backup. I’m in the building. There’s more of them than I thought there would be.”

“I’m on my way.” You reported, changing directions and sprinting towards the building housing the Hydra base. What they were doing here, you had no clue, but Bruce theorized it had something to do with a meteor that had landed out that way a few months prior. They were probably harvesting whatever materials had been inside it.

You kicked down the door. Steve had six guys on him, two of which he disposed of quickly. You made a portal beneath one guy, sending him falling down a flight of stairs with the second portal you opened.

The other three guys went down quickly enough, only for a guy in a giant mech armor to come crashing through the interior wall. He shot and Steve jumped in front of you, taking a hit to the neck. A tiny syringe filled with shimmering purple liquid.

“Fuck! Steve!” You ran to him, but that didn’t take care of the large problem looming behind you. Seeing red, you made another portal at the feet of the robot, opened it in the ceiling, and cut it off as it was halfway through, destroying it in a flash of sparks and shredded metal. It shut down, giving you time to get to Steve.

He was sitting against the wall, head slumped to the side. You took the syringe out of his neck, tucking it into a pouch on your belt for testing. If this thing was poison, you’d need Bruce to start whipping up an antidote as soon as possible.

“Steve, hey, stay with me.” You touched his face, trying to wake him.

At your touch, he blinked a few times, drowsy. He gave you a crooked smile. “Heyyy, there you are.”

“Come on, we’ve gotta get you back to the jet.” You told him, pulling him to his feet, but he slumped in your arms like dead weight. You had been working out since you’d been recruited, but he was still heavy. “You’ve gotta work with me, big guy.”

“They used to call me little guy.” He murmured, sounding drunk. “Back in Brooklyn.”

“I’m sure they did.” You slung his arm around your shoulders and started hauling ass out of the building. A few agents shot at you, trying to hit you while you were distracted with carrying Steve to safety, but they forgot you were the one Avenger whose specialty was defense.

You lit a forcefield in your left hand, using its faint blue light to guide the two of you through the dim hallways. It slowed all the bullets to a stop, causing them to drop to the floor harmlessly. There was something kind of poetic about it, you supposed. Steve was so famous for that shield of his, but now you were the shield, protecting him.

“Did you guys find anything in there?” Clint asked.

“The good news is, we cleared most of it out. Bad news is, Steve got shot with something. I’m bringing him back to the ship now. I don’t know what it was but he’s acting really drunk.”

“Tranq darts seem to have that effect on him, yeah.” Bruce explained. “Bring him back here and I’ll make sure it wasn’t laced with something else.”

“On it.”

You lugged Steve along, stopping to rest and readjust against a wall for a second.

“Thank you for takin’ care of me even when I don’t feel so good.” He said, leaning his full weight against you.

“Of course, Steve. I’ve got ya.” You pulled his arm around your shoulders again. “You would do the same for any of us.”

He smiled, face impossibly close to yours. “Oh, I’d do anything for you, (Y/N).”

You knew it was probably just the drugs talking but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you when he said it anyway.

Once you were outside, you opened a waypoint in front of the two of you, the second portal in front of the jet, and then stepped through, closing it behind you. Bruce opened the door and helped you haul Steve inside, onto the cot of the makeshift mobile infirmary.

You handed Bruce the empty vial.

“Thank you for remembering. Thor always breaks these and then I have to do bloodwork to figure out what was in them.” He chuckled.

“He’s very smash first, ask questions later.”

“No wonder he and Hulk get along so well.” Bruce joked. “Alright, get back out there. I’ll make sure he’s alright.”

“Thank you.”

“Be careful out there.” Steve advised, eyes half-lidded. “They have guns.”

“I’ll be extra careful, alright? I promise.” You met his eyes and he smiled immediately. Once you were sure he was okay, you stepped out of the jet again, getting back to help the others.

***

When you got back, you were nursing a bullet wound. They’d gotten you in the arm. It wasn’t too bad, though, the bleeding had almost stopped. Natasha went straight for the med kit when you two stepped foot on the jet, motioning you over to the stool.

Steve was there, still on the cot. He stared as Nat started cleaning your wound. “Wait, you got hurt?”

“I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

He nodded and reached for your hand. “I’m really glad you’re alright, doll. Had me worried sick.”

Doll. You replayed the word in your mind. Steve had called you a lot of things in the past few months, but never once had he used that somewhat outdated term of endearment. You liked it, though.

You met Natasha’s eyes and she smirked while the supersoldier held your hand.

Sam walked in next, eyeing up the scene unfolding in front of him. “Woah, what’d I miss? Feels like I missed several chapters.”

“Steve is drunk.” Clint explained, counting his remaining arrows.

“Tranq dart. He’s fine. Just needs to ride it out for a few hours. He should be back to normal by the time we get home.” Bruce explained as he put away his tablet.

“You feeling alright, buddy?” Sam walked over and put a hand on Steve’s other arm. “You’re holding (Y/N)’s hand kinda tight there.”

“Huh?” Steve asked, directing his eyes to your joint hands. He let go. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Steve.” You reassured him.

The others trickled in slowly until everyone was accounted for, the base destroyed, the Hydra operatives in SHIELD custody for questioning. Fury and his team would handle it from there. You couldn’t help but play the mission over and over in your head.

Never had you used a waypoint to split something in half. But something had clicked in you when Steve was hurt. You’d never felt like that before, like part of your soul itself was being ripped out. He meant more to you than you cared to admit, especially when your fate was tied elsewhere.

Still, your new ability needed training. It was a dangerous skill to have, and if you didn’t hone it properly, you could end up doing some serious damage on accident.

Come Find Me in the Future

It was the night before you and a select group of the team were heading out to find and recover Bucky. Clint had finally gotten a hit on him. But if he had, that meant others could be after him, too. People that wanted him back. Badly.

You were nervous about it for that reason. You weren’t sure why the rest of you hadn’t already left, to be honest. You didn’t want to race with Hydra. It wasn’t one you were sure you’d win.

To stave off the feeling of dread, you had commandeered the living room TV and popped in Howl’s Moving Castle. You were nursing a mug of chamomile tea in your hands, playing games on your Switch.

You were near the end of the movie, at the part where Sophie was whisked to the past, when Steve walked into the room, in his pajamas, a tank top and a pair of plaid pants.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hey. You’re up late. Big mission tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it’s almost over.” You told him. “Drinking my sleepy tea as we speak.”

“Sleepy tea?”

“Chamomile mint. It’s good. There’s some over by the Keurig if you want any.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, walking over. “What’s this?”

“Howl’s Moving Castle. One of my favorites.” You told him.

“What’s it about?”

“That is a complicated question.” You laughed. “I’d have to start it over, I think.”

“Another time, maybe.” He chuckled, crossing his arms.

Steve watched as Sophie got sucked back through the wormhole to the present.

She called out “I know how to help you now! Find me in the future!”

He perked up. “Wait, she…there’s time travel?”

“Yeah, she gets pulled into the past for a bit and tells him to find her and then years later, the first words he says to her are ‘There you are, sweetheart. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’ It’s really sweet.”

“They’re soulmates?”

“They are.” You nodded.

“Does that happen? Often?” Steve asked, hung up on it. “In real life?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of that happening before.” You shook your head. “I don’t think anyone would believe it, even if it did. Happens a lot in fiction, though.”

“Oh. Cool.” Steve nodded. He met your eyes and then looked down at his lap, tongue flitting across his pink lips. “I, uh, wanted to apologize.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “For what?”

“The mission last week. I, uh…I said some things and, uh…I just, I’d hate to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t.” You assured him. “No apology necessary. You were drugged. I probably would have said worse, to be honest.”

He smiled. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. And thank you for agreeing to come tomorrow. We could really use the help.”

“Of course. I’ve got your back, always.” You told him, earning another one of those earnest, lovesick smiles. “Anywho, I finished that playlist for you. The Taylor Swift one. I can make you a more general one with different songs, but…figured that was a decent starting place.”

“Great, yeah, thank you.” He nodded, looking at his phone as it pinged with the notification you had sent it to him. “I’ll give it a listen.”

“Let me know what you think.”

“Oh I will.” He chuckled to himself. “Really, thank you. I appreciate it. And um, have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early.” You saluted.

He nodded before repeating, “Bright and early.”

Bygones

Bright and early was an understatement. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when your alarm went off. You groaned, rolled over and silenced your screaming phone, forcing yourself to sit up so you didn’t drift back off.

Today was too important for that.

Instead, you got up, brushed your hair, and went out to the kitchen, where Vision had whipped up a full breakfast for everyone going out. It was you, Steve, Nat, Wanda, and Sam. A small team, but enough firepower to bring him back without overwhelming and/or scaring him off.

“Morning.” Steve said, eyes landing on you the moment you walked into the room.

“Morning.”

“Coffee?” He offered, pushing a cup of your favorite iced coffee over to you. You couldn’t lie, you were impressed.

“Thanks.” You grinned, taking a long sip to kickstart your morning. You loaded a plate up with eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast, plus a little side of hashbrowns, thanking Vision thoroughly.

“It is my pleasure, (Y/N). As someone who does not require sleep, it would be rude of me to let you all starve so early in the day.”

“(Y/N), you got him listening to Taylor Swift?” Sam asked, eyes drilling into you.

You laughed. “Uh, yeah. What about it? She’s a cultural icon, do you want him left out of the loop?”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Steve shrugged, sipping on his coffee.

“Of course you’re not.” Natasha chuckled, words warbled by her own cup. You noticed the way her lips pursed. If you weren’t mistaken, you’d say she was nervous. About what, you couldn’t tell. She seldom got nervous. Or at least, she seldom let it show. But it was definitely there.

Wanda was the last into the kitchen, already fully put together. She gave the chef her thanks with a warm smile and sparkling eyes. You couldn’t help but smile. Those two, beyond a shadow of a doubt, were absolutely made for each other. You wondered what her wrist would have to say about it when the time came.

Once everyone had eaten, those who weren’t suited up got ready, locked and loaded for a tense mission. You’d have Clint on the coms here, doing recon from a drone. The rest of you loaded up onto the jet, strapping in.

Nat and Sam hopped into the cockpit. Wanda sat next to you, Steve across the aisle, his eyes meeting yours every so often.

“It’ll be alright.” You said, trying to dispel his nerves.

He nodded, but didn’t reply, just giving a short nod and staring at the holographic map on the wall as you approached closer and closer. You could see that little guy from Brooklyn peeking through the eyes of the supersoldier sitting across from you, nervous about his best friend.

You unbuckled just before you landed, walking across the jet to strap on your weapons. The others did the same, arming themselves. Nat was going to keep the jet warm for a speedy exit, the look in her eyes still unreadable. The rest of you got ready for war.

It was an abandoned warehouse, large garage door, broken windows, slanted roof with a hole in it. Definitely not the most secure of places. According to Clint’s drone, Bucky was in the back room.

“Waypoint, I need you out here ready to get us a quick escape.”

“Got it.” You nodded, positioning yourself within eyeshot of the warehouse and the jet so you could make a portal either way.

“Wanda, Sam, you’re with me.” Steve instructed, taking a minute to breathe, to think. “He’s gonna be ready to run. We have to talk him out of it.”

“Uh, Cap. Might wanna work a little faster. There’s another plane incoming. About three minutes out.”

“Alright.” Steve nodded, taking off his helmet and slinging his shield onto his back. He led the other two into the building.

For a heartwrenching two minutes, you didn’t hear anything. And then you heard a plane. And then gunshots.

“(Y/N), now!” Steve instructed.

You did as you were told, opening the waypoint in the warehouse, another just outside. Nat had picked the jet up off of the ground, firing at the one Hydra had brought. She took another shot, damaging the wing and causing it to go down.

“Shit, wait—!”

There was a flash of light and you expected it to be Steve that came through first. Maybe Bucky, even. Instead, it was a grenade. And a split second later, it exploded, knocking you unconscious.

***

Steve stood over you, horrified. Thanks to your suit, the damage didn’t seem too bad. But you had blood and soot caked on your face, the ends of your hair singed.

It was his fault. He had told you to open the Waypoint, only for a Hydra agent to toss a grenade right through it.

He all but collapsed to his knees, collecting you in his arms. Bucky was on the jet already, Sam, too. Only he and Wanda were outside with you.

“(Y/N), come on. Open those eyes for me.” He pleaded, voice soft, eyes aching with tears. “Hey, come on. Please…”

“We should get her back to the jet.” Wanda goaded softly, a hand on Steve’s arm.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek. He scooped you off of the ground, an arm beneath your legs, the other around your back. Your arms hung down, limp. Your head rested heavily against his shoulder, eyes closed.

By the time Steve walked up the ramp, Nat already had the infirmary cot down, ready to go. Bucky watched, eyes intense. He looked up when Steve approached, eyes falling on you. They widened when he got a look at you.

“Woah, is that…?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “It is.”

Natasha helped him get you situated in the cot, wrapping the cuff around your arm that would measure your vitals. With everyone accounted for, Sam closed the door, lifting the jet into the air.

“I’ve got Banner on the line.” Natasha told him.

“Good.” Steve’s eyes didn’t leave you for a second, watching as the breaths entered and left your lungs. “Tell him to get the infirmary ready for her.”

“Already on it, Cap. She’ll be okay. Her vitals look…well they look good, all things considered.” Bruce relayed. “Just get back here as fast as you can.”

***

As soon as the jet landed, Steve unhooked you from the vitals monitor and collected you in his arms, carrying you to the gurney Bruce had ready, walking with him as he wheeled you towards the infirmary. Bruce insisted he needed some time and sent Steve away, taking a piece of his heart with him.

Vision checked over Bucky, giving him the okay almost immediately before going to help Bruce in the infirmary.

Steve sat at the table, Bucky sitting down to join him. The others gave them a minute alone.

“Hey, pal.” Steve exhaled, trying to force a smile. “Glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” He agreed. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Of course.” Steve nodded. “I’m with you—”

“Til the end of the line.” Bucky smiled, eyes soft. His irises flicked towards the infirmary and back. “You wanna talk about it?”

Steve let out a sigh, the wall finally coming down and more tears slipping down his cheeks. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. She’s—”

“She’s gonna be fine. I promise you.” Bucky’s hand grabbed onto Steve’s wrist, the covered one. The one with her name etched onto it. “She has to be. Has she…does she know yet?”

“No one does. Just me. And you.” Steve confessed. He wiped his thumb under his eye. “So you’re right. She has to pull through.”

Steve held onto that spark of hope for the coming hours. He showed Bucky to the room that had been prepared for him, but Sam offered to give him a tour of the place, knowing their friend was in a fragile mental state.

Eventually, Vision found him and told him he could enter the infirmary. Bruce had finished treating you. When Steve walked in and saw you, still unconscious, laying on that bed, he choked on more sobs. The bruising on your face was pretty severe. You were hooked up to several monitors, an IV. Supposedly, your injuries were not too extreme, but you had a cracked rib and would need time to heal before you could do any missions or training.

Hours later, Nat found Steve in there, wringing his hands, tears in his eyes. He fiddled with the cuff around his wrist. The playlist you’d made for him played softly from a speaker in the corner of the room. Timeless. As if he wasn’t already crying enough.

“She’s gonna be okay, Steve. Bruce thinks she might wake up soon.” Nat comforted, sitting in the chair next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, confused by her friend’s sudden mood. Members of the team had been injured before and sure, he checked on them, but he never reacted like this.

“I know, I just…” He shook his head. “I’m worried about her is all. It’s…kinda my fault this happened.”

Nat pressed her lips together, tilting her head. “This seems like a little more than that. You wanna tell me what’s really going on?”

He wanted to hold onto his secret. He did. But he was feeling fragile, vulnerable. It couldn’t hurt to have just one more person on his side. “I can, just…not here.” Steve nodded, leading her out of the room, out of your earshot, if you could even hear him while you were out, but still in sight thanks to the soundproof windows.

Nat’s hands settled on her hips, waiting for an answer. Instead, Steve took the cuff off of his wrist and held it out to her, letting her read the letters that had been etched there for the better part of a century.

Her jaw dropped. She stammered, arms crossing. She met his eyes and when she saw the sadness there, the guilt and longing, her expression softened.

“I should have told her. A long time ago, I should have told her but I can’t. In six months, on her twenty-fifth, she’s going back in time to 1943 to meet me on mine. And it…didn’t seem like she knew until she was already there.”

“So you’ve just been holding it in this whole time?” Natasha asked. “You’ve been in love with her…”

“Since the forties, yeah.” Steve nodded. “My great lost love, as Tony likes to call her when he rags on the band I wear.”

“Does he know?”

“No. Just you. And Bucky.” Steve amended. “He was there when she…”

“Right. Weird.” Natasha let out a long sigh, looking through the window. Her fingers reached for her own cuff. She hesitated, but pulled it off, holding her soulmark out to him. “Fair is fair.”

Steve stared at the letters for a long time, realization slowly filling his eyes. The name on her wrist was none other than James Buchannan Barnes. “Oh my God.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you until all the dust settled, but it just settled, so…” She shrugged, putting the cuff back on. “I’ll figure out how to tell him, too, if he doesn’t know already.”

“Buck’s mark was grayed out back then. We thought…well, we didn’t know what it meant.” Steve said, shaking his head. It was the reason Bucky had dated around so much back then. He’d figured if he just found someone else, his mark would change and he wouldn’t have to be alone. Never could he have guessed what it actually meant, that his soulmate wouldn’t be born for another forty or so years. “And then he lost his arm…”

“Yeah, that part I did know.” She smirked. “Well, I’ll keep an eye on her. Let you know if she says anything you need to hear.”

“She probably thinks my soulmate is dead, too. Everyone else does.”

“Ironic.”

“No kidding.” Steve sighed, gazing longingly through the window.

“We’ll get you through it, Steve. You’ve waited seventy years. Six months is nothing.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna sit with her for a while. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”

He slinked back into the infirmary and sat in the chair beside your bed, watching your steady breaths and listening to the beeping of the heart monitor. Natasha watched him through the window, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time. Nevertheless, she was glad they had talked. At least now, they could be there for each other.

Vol. 2 Here

Tags: @cap-lu20

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers soulmate au #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #marvel #mcu #avengers

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ivymarquis · 1 year

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The B.A.G. Coalition

Did I use one of my work breaks on my 14hr shift to write this? Yes, yes I did. I also took time out of my day to make sure my introduction to the COD MWII fandom was a crack!fic despite promising angst with Ghost and simping from Price. Both of which are still coming.

Tags; platonic 141 + Reader, crack fic, drinking, weaponization of barrack bunnies, dunking on Graves.

I don’t know how the military works and I don’t care to learn.

You try really, really hard to not fixate too much on the whole being a woman in the boy’s club thing because you’ll drive yourself insane if you do.

You’re good at your job, you’re not getting preferential treatment, and all is right in the world. Your team was cautious, gauging your capabilities but ultimately warming up to you and welcoming you into the fold.

A mission planned with 141 and Shadow company means that Graves is a tolerated interloper into the group.

Everyone is settled into a booth in the corner of a pub near base, a few drinks in as the night wears on. You are finally feeling settled in and like your feet are firmly underneath you and you’re no longer treading water, watching your back as the other 141 assess you.

And it’s the exact moment when Graves asks “Are you seeing anybody?” that you realize you’ve girlbossed entirely too close to the fucking sun.

The table’s reaction is immediate. Your “I beg your pardon?” is muffled by Ghost’s “Sod off, Graves,” Soap’s “She’s been fucking drinking” and Gaz shooting him a look while Price clears his throat with a pointed “Commander?”

Good to know your team has your back because what the fuck.

“Not like that,” you’re not entirely certain if he’s back peddling or being genuine, “I don’t know what it is but none of the women around this base date. It’s like pulling teeth.”

“Really?” Gaz asks. “I haven’t been having any issues.”

Your eyebrow arches, reaching for your drink as you realize there’s not enough alcohol in the world for this conversation. “Yeah no ever since the B.A.G. Coalition was formed, you’re gonna have to download Tinder or something, Commander” You speak without thinking, a look of horror dawning on you that the alcohol has loosened your lips a little too much. Well, shit.

“The what?” Graves asks incredulously.

You panic, reflex having you turn towards Price. “Please get me out of here,” you plead with him.

“Oh no can do, Sergeant.”

You cling to your glass like a buoy. “I’ve said too much,” you whisper.

“What the hell is the B.A.G. Coalition?” Graves asks again.

Taking a long draught of your drink, you steel yourself for both this conversation and the potential wrath of the bunnies now the open secret was out.

“Have you… noticed how the barrack bunnies don’t have anything to do with you?”

His eyebrows draw together. “Guess I never bothered to worry about it. Not like they’re hard to find,”

That last sentence had some teeth to it that you did not appreciate. Especially coming from a man who’s managed to piss off an entire base of them. “Hey now, I love the bunnies, you gotta be nice to them,” you admonish before remembering yourself and quickly adding a “Sir”.

The alcohol has your mind drifting away from the question at hand and going slightly to the left- still focused on the bunnies, but no longer directly leading to the coalition.

“They do important work and make my life easier when some guy is being obnoxious and won’t leave me alone,” you elaborate. “Also most of them are really nice and I don’t blame them for having a type and staying focused on it. I admire the commitment and tenacity.”

“Wait who was bothering you?” Price would hone in on that part.

“No one anymore, after I weaponized one of the bunnies and pointed her in his direction.”

“You…. Weaponized a barrack bunny?” Soap sounded out the idea, clearly having some image of a tactical assault bunny in mind.

“Yes I did. It was absolutely incredible. Poor guy never saw her coming- it was like watching a lioness take down a wounded gazelle.”

“A bunny battalion,” Gaz sighs into his drink, his pupils damn near in the shape of hearts at whatever image his brain was conjuring.

“What the fuck do barrack bunnies have to do with this coalition you’re talking about,” Graves tries to redirect the question.

Shit. Right.

Like, you get why he’s confused. From his perspective at least. Tall, blonde, conventionally attractive with a southern drawl most girls would go gaga over, not to mention the commander of Shadow Company. He should be having women chase him from all over. And here he was with no bitches and getting zero play.

And yet none of those attributes were actually indicative of him like… being a good person. Graves soured you like 3 day old sweet tea. There was something both saccharine and bitter about him all wrapped together even if you didn’t know for sure what the problem was.

“You did something to piss off the bunnies. I don’t know what and frankly I'm afraid to ask. Like, I thought maybe some supreme pick me bunny would rise from the ranks and make her move anyway but they have made a united front. It is both impressive and terrifying,” you’ve got just enough alcohol in your system that fuck it, let’s tell a superior officer a little something about himself that he clearly doesn’t know. “And the rest of us noticed. So it slowed the not-bunnies rolls too.”

There’s a beat of silence before the lightbulb clicks in Ghost’s head and he is busting out laughing. You don’t think you’ve heard him ever make that much noise even when he’s grousing out orders.

Gaz is the next one for the lightbulb to go off, verbalizing what B.A.G. stood for to a stupified Commander (and equally stunned Soap and Price).

“It’s Bunnies Against Graves!”

#141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #my writing #crack!fic #kyle gaz garrick #john price #john soap mactavish #it will never not be funny to me that graves is reviled by the fandom community for betraying 141 #the war crimes are not a big deal but YOU DONT GO AGAINST THE BOYS D<#phillip graves

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dreamingofep · 3 months

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Sinned Awakening pt. 20.2 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, ANGST, SMUTTT, sub/dom stuff, mentions of blood/gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: Hello everyone! Told you the next part was gonna be up quick!🤭I couldn't leave you hanging and just needed to get this second half of the chapter ASAP. I'm just gonna let you enjoy I hope you like it!

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here I hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think!

It took weeks for your body to recover from the trauma it endured. It was early April and the spring weather in Memphis was still chilly. You grew very restless being in bed for so long but Elvis insisted on it. It was strange having everyone wait on you hand and foot. You never experienced such a thing in your life because you were usually the one taking care of someone. Everyone that worked in the house was the sweetest to you. You can tell they really loved Elvis and liked being around him. They were human and you assumed they knew what he was but you never brought it up.

Elvis was kind and patient with you, helping you with anything you needed. But you couldn’t help but notice there was something different about him. There was almost a shyness about him when he was around you now and he would be ultra sensitive to you. He wouldn’t touch you for too long and never tried to make the first move when it came to anything intimate. All he would allow himself to do is cuddle you if you were lucky. You had a feeling he wasn’t feeding properly and was not his normal self. You wanted to bring it up and ask him but he wouldn’t let you ask it. He’d always deflect that he was feeling fine and end the conversation right there. As you started to feel back to normal, you missed being with him. You missed those feelings he’d give you when he made love to you.

The longer this went on, the sadder your heart grew. Did he want to be near you anymore? Did he want you? Did he suddenly find you unattractive because of your scars?

You can only imagine what they must feel like to him and you wanted to talk to him about it. You couldn’t have him shut down again just when things got hard again. Frankly, you were tired of feeling like you couldn’t talk to him. You hated how he was so afraid to touch you and because of what happened, your relationship now had a riff. You didn’t want it that way. You wanted it back to the way it was and have him be his normal self around you. You were his, you were sure of that. There was no one else on this earth that you wanted to be with. You wanted to be with him forever. You came to realize, it didn’t scare you as much when it came to the thought of becoming a vampire one day. After knowing you almost lost your life and Elvis had to watch you in the hospital for all those days unconscious, you knew you had to tell him what you wanted. You needed to tell him you loved him and needed him forever. You’d want to talk to him about it, see if he’d open up to you about his feelings for you, and go from there. It was a huge step, one that would change both of your lives, but you were positive this was what you wanted.

You tried to get him alone to just talk, but his whole demeanor was nervous and anxious. He wouldn’t sit down next to you and would suddenly be whisked away to do something else. You had to show patience for him as he gave to you. After everything he’s confessed to you from wanting to feed from you the first day you worked for him or when he told you about being his Chosen, he gave you the honest truth, no matter how hard it was to hear. Now it was your turn, to be honest and tell him what you wanted when the time was right.

One Friday night, Elvis booked the Memphian Theater, not too far from Graceland for a private showing of any movies he wanted to watch. You learned he loved going to the movies late at night and you did too. He brought his usual crew with him but they let you and him sit in the back all alone. The first film he wanted to watch was Letter From an Unknown Woman, one of his favorites he revealed to you.

He held your hand and you liked the small gesture. It was loving and sweet like he always was. You had seen this film a hundred times and you’re sure he had too. You lean on him and place your other hand on the inside of his thigh. You could feel him tense up as you touched him, not having done that in a while he must have been shocked in a way. A little bit halfway through the film, you didn’t have the patience to sit here in the theater and wanted him alone in his bedroom. You wanted him to kiss you and touch you all over, making you feel something good again. It had been too long. You nuzzle your face into his neck, kissing and nipping softly at his skin. He grumbles as you do this, his body still ridged and not relaxed. Your hand roams up his thigh, finding his soft cock in his pants.

“Can we get out of here please?” You ask sensually, lightly rubbing his length as you continue to kiss his neck. Butterflies swarmed in your tummy, feeling like this was the first time you were getting to touch him.

He carefully pulls your hand off of him and pulls his neck away from you. You feel your heart sink, not understanding his somber attitude of late and why he won’t let you touch him.

“No honey, not right now. I can’t,” he grumbles and turns his attention back to the screen.

You never thought you could feel unwanted with him, but lately, that’s all you felt like. Barely looked at or barely touched. You really felt like he didn’t have the same feelings for you anymore. You can’t help but take this personally and tears well in your eyes. You put on your coat and make your way out of the theater.

One of the guys drives you back to the house and you rush inside and lock the bedroom door. You sob into your hands, feeling so stupid for all of this and how naive you could be. You felt pushed aside in every possible way. Maybe Raphael was right? Maybe it was true that this is what Elvis does. He gets bored of them quickly and will leave…

No, he said those things to hurt you. There wasn’t an ounce of truth in his words. There was some deep turmoil inside of Elvis that he wasn’t showing you and you needed to know the truth.

Elvis got back to the house a few minutes after you did and you were livid, waiting to confront him.

There was a knock on the door and you went to answer it. He had one of his arms stretched up on the door frame and the other with his hand on his hip. You can tell he was upset, his overall demeanor ticked off as he looked at you from the top of his sunglasses.

Sex dripped off of him looking like this.

Tempting every cell in your body to have him.

He looks so damn good it drove you nearly mad with his fitted slacks and his low buttoned shirt, exposing all his delicious skin to you.

“What the hell were you thinkin’? Why would you leave me?” He scowls.

“You were too busy with your damn movie I knew you didn’t care if I was around or not,” you spat. He pushes his way into the bedroom and gets inches away from you. His demeanor was strong and powerful and you couldn’t lie; it turned you on. You could feel the heat come off of him and the way his dangerous eyes looked at you sent shivers through you.

“That’s not true, I wanted you there,” he says shortly, pointing his finger at you.

“Did you? Because all you’ve been doing is wanting to spend as little time alone with me as possible! Don’t deny that Elvis, you know it’s true,” you grumble.

“Now y/n I-,” he interjects but you cut him off.

“No! You can’t justify that. There has to be a reason why. There’s something you’re hiding from me I know it. What is it? I’ve been healthy for weeks now and you don’t dare to even touch me or look at me for too long,” you explain.

He takes off his glasses and his eyes are dark and intense, not saying anything to you still.

“Do you still want me? Do you have feelings for me? If there’s someone else then just say it,” you say trembling.

He lets out a frustrated sigh and picks you up swiftly, kicking the door closed behind him, and sitting you down on the edge of the bed firmly. You gasp at his sudden forceful nature searing through him as he looks at you dangerously.

“Goddamn it, stop. Of course, I want you still. It drives me fucking crazy all the time but I just…” he trails off.

“You what? What is it? I know seeing these marks on me isn’t easy but there’s something more to it, isn’t there?” You press, taking a closer look at his dark eyes. They were beginning to look very similar to how they looked in Vegas…

Hungry.

“Why aren’t you feeding? What’s going on?” You ask.

He grunts out loud, taking a few steps away from you.

“No, I am… well, not exactly. I’m drinking from blood bags here and there but… I only want your blood. I’m sorry, I can’t help it. The way it calls out to me, it’s agonizing. And it makes me feel repulsive for not being able to control my thirst when you’ve been hurt for so long.”

“You should have told me…” you say weakly, “I would have let you take some in some way…” you trail off.

“No! I couldn’t hurt you more! There would be no pleasure in feeding myself to my heart’s content while you scream in agony. I heard your screams while Raphael fed on you, how much it hurt you. I can’t re-live something like that. It was awful y/n.”

He falls down to his knees, covering his face with his hands. You felt horrible for him, this struggle he had inside him for so long was because of what Raphael inflicted on you. The pain you experienced was something he also suffered from.

That’s love, your brain screams.

“There’s something I just can’t shake. Something else that keeps me mad at myself…” he sighs.

You hold your breath, unsure what he is going to reveal to you.

“What are you talking about?”

“When I found you, barely holding on and struggling to breathe… I wanted to turn you, make you into a vampire.” Your heart skips at the notion and you can’t speak.

“God, I wanted to bite you so bad y/n. Something so sinful awakened inside me and controlled every last thought I had as I tried to get you out of that house. This wild, unknown instinct swept over me and it made me so scared, I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t sure if you’d make it by the time I got you to the hospital and I was sure the doctors had no idea what to do for this kind of situation. I thought for a split second, this was the only option to save you. But I didn’t think you would be able to survive the bite since you already had so little blood left in you.”

“I got you to the hospital in time and watched you lay there motionless for days. I was so afraid I was too late. And this deeply rooted selfishness inside me was screaming to turn you. To make you mine and get rid of these awful marks on your body. To not even give you a choice over your own soul… I’m disgusted at myself that I even dared to think that notion.”

You stare at him wide-eyed, not expecting such a confession. Your heart ached for him, so upset he’s been holding this back for so long. It explained so much.

“Then you woke up and I was just relieved you were okay and tried to push all those feelings aside… until I got you home and I saw for the first time how bad the damage really was, how much pain you were in… that’s when I thought, maybe I should turn her? I can put her out of her misery and get her in perfect health. I thought it was bad enough I want your blood but to want, no, need to turn you? This was a whole new level the monster brought out in me. Every time we’ve been alone, I am fighting the need to fuck you senseless and sink my teeth into you.”

“Fuck, I miss the way you taste and I haven’t been feeding because of all this guilt I carry within me but only your blood is what I crave. Just any won’t do. I’m afraid if we’re alone for too long… I won’t be able to control myself and I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t hurt you y/n, it will kill me inside,” He tries to justify.

Your brain feels like it's in a drunken fog, you can’t breathe normally.

“You know I trust you. There’s nothing that’s going to change that, ever,” you whimper.

He looks at you in shock, not believing what just passed between your lips.

“What? Did you just hear anything I said? You should not have that much faith in me,” He growls.

“Yes, I do. I’m sorry you’ve felt like that but I wished you told me sooner… maybe I could have helped you or done something,” you explain. “I thought you hated me…”

“I don’t baby, I’m sorry I made you feel like that… but it’s hard to trust myself fully… not after the terrible thoughts I’ve had playing in my mind. I can’t turn you out of pure selfishness,” he grovels. You understood where he was coming from, to give someone no choice over their fate is a lot to bear, but you didn’t see it that way at all.

“Honey listen. If I woke up and you told me you had to turn me in fear of losing me forever, I would understand. I would be thankful I had a second chance on life that you gave me. I wouldn’t have thought you were being selfish.” You say shyly.

“Really?” He says shakily.

“Yes, I understand why you might think it’s selfish because you barely had the choice to decide if you wanted to become a vampire and you hated the newfound life you had. You were thrown into this new world with no one else to help you. You grew to hate Raphael and what he did because he wasn’t a good man. Everything he did was from a hateful place. That’s not how I would feel if you turned me though. If I woke up and was changed, I’d be thankful I had you and couldn’t wait to start the next chapter of my life,” you confess, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

A small smile forms on his face and you blush. His gaze doesn’t falter and he stands back up caressing your face softly, shaking his head slightly.

“You’re too good. Your soul is too pure to be with me. Always seeing past the bad of a situation.” He pauses, memorizing every detail on your face. Both of your breaths are shallow and the tension is thick.

“Baby?” He asks, making sure he has your attention. You look in his beautiful eyes and smile. You nod at him, tracing his lip with your finger.

“Yes?”

“I love you, honey, more than life itself. I want you always. I could never live this life with anyone else. I’ve never felt like this for anyone. Please forgive me for any ill sentiments I’ve had. I love you so much and have for quite some time.” He confesses. Your heart flutters and you can’t believe your ears.

He loves you.

“I love you too Elvis. I love you more than I have ever loved another being on this earth. I never thought I could love someone so much and have them be the only thing I care about, but I do. I want you forever, baby.” You confess breathlessly.

“Yeah, baby?” He says weakly.

“Yes. I want you and only you.” You confess.

He takes a sharp breath in and holds you in his arms, pure amazement shining through as he looks at you.

“Oh my God, I love you baby. I don’t think I can ever get tired of you saying those words to me. I was made to love you and only you,” he smiles at you, tangling his hand in your hair at the back of your head and pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

Fireworks explode in your mind as you feel his soft lips crash into yours. This was heaven at its finest, the way his needy touch wrangled you in for more and your body effortlessly responded to him. You missed this more than you realized and you know he did too. He breaks the kiss momentarily to look up at your face and smile at you.

“I missed your lips,” he grumbles, taking another long kiss. You can't help but moan into his mouth, missing how he felt too. Your hands clutched at his arms, needing him so much closer than he already is. You could sense he was needy too, the way his chest rose and fell and how he kissed you like he was dying for your lips to save him. You break the kiss momentarily to get something that’s been weighing on your mind too. He gets a bit flustered and backs away a bit from you.

“Was that too much honey? I’m sorry to get carried away,” he blushes.

“No, it’s not that honey. Trust me it’s more than welcomed. I just wanted to tell you something that’s been on my mind.” You pause, summoning the courage to continue.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking since coming here, contemplating on my life and how it turned out. I’ve realized that I wouldn’t change any of it. That I would still want to be with you no matter what. I want you to turn me one day and be by your side forever.” you tell him. You reach for him to come closer and have him push against your body.

“Really honey? You would let me turn you?” He asks.

“Yes, I will. I can’t live without you,” you confess. He can’t believe what he’s hearing and lets out a relieved sigh.

“I can’t live without you either. I love you so much honey,” he says, going in for another kiss. Your hands tangle in his hair and there’s more urgency in each kiss. You both are desperate for each other and every inch of you feels like it's on fire. The heat in between your legs grows and the need for him to touch your bare skin becomes unbearable.

You quickly take your lips off of him, “I know you can control yourself with me. I've shown you time and time again you can. I’m sorry you’ve felt like you couldn’t tell me any of this sooner,” You tell him. He nods his head, “I know, it was stupid of me. So stupid.” He says exasperated, kissing you again with so much need it’s suffocating.

“I umm… I think I know when I want you to turn me…” you say insecurely.

“Oh okay, when honey?” He asks nervously.

“My birthday, May 17th. I think that gives me plenty of time to soak in any human experiences I want to have before then.” You say jokingly.

He smirks at you, amused by your attitude. “Okay, baby. So a month? Are you sure that’s enough time? There’s no rush, you just tell me when. I want to give you every last human experience,” he assures you.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure” you smirk at him. You rub your hand along his face, feeling his smooth cold skin. You look at him longingly, feeling the heat in your core grow.

“I love you,” you whimper, kissing his forehead softly. He looks at you in awe and you both don’t say anything to each other. Just longingly stare at what’s in front of you. You know he can sense how your body is on fire for him, needing so much attention from him.

“Baby, who’s in the house right now?” You ask. His eyebrows furrow and is confused by the question.

“Uhh… a couple of the guys are in the basement and the living room. Why?”

Your hand continues to trace over every inch of his face, memorizing every last detail.

“Because I don’t want them in the house tonight. I don’t want them to be able to hear the things want to do to you tonight,” you say coyly. His eyes shoot open wide and takes in a sharp breath. He slowly gets up and looks over you hungrily, in more ways than one.

“Oh…I’ll go tell them to leave,” he says before turning to the door. You bite your cheek and nod your head at him. The bedroom door closes and you run to the bathroom.

You wanted him to have you all night long, doing every last dirty thing he could think of. God you missed him. Every last inch of you missed how he kissed you and touched you and made you beg for more.

You look over your appearance in the mirror, giddy and happy with what he’s just confessed to you. You take off your clothes and leave on the red lace bra and panty set you have underneath. Running out of the bedroom, you get to the top of the staircase and see him closing the front door and locking it.

He turns around to see what you’re wearing and his jaw falls slack. A burst of confidence comes over you and you tauntingly walk down the stairs, ever so slowly, wanting him to look at you enviously. Even the way he looked tonight had you weak. Treading lightly down the stairs, you look over his perfect frame and how badly you want to tear his clothes off of him. You walk up to him and drag his hand down across the front of your body, cupping your breasts and making him follow your every move with his eyes.

“Goddamn Mama, you look so good,” he says as he licks his lips sensually.

You smirk at him and grab the collar of his shirt, pushing him against your needy body.

“What was it exactly you had in mind tonight that the whole house needed to be cleared out?” He teases, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Well, a few things actually. I’ve had a lot of time to think what I wanted from you,” you say low.

He hums amused, “And what have you wanted baby?” He asks as he pushes you into his hips firmly, feeling his length twitch in his pants. You bite your lip from keeping the moan you want to let out.

You tauntingly push him away from you, looking up at his gorgeous face.

“I’ve been needing you to take care of me and use that mouth to please me,” you say.

“I can do that baby,” he says breathlessly.

“Good. Come on,” you say, taking his hand and leading him through the house. You had explored the house by yourself a few times and wanted to take him to the basement. As you walk down the stairs, you glance over at him in the reflection of the mirrors that line the sides and ceiling of the stairwell. He looks over your backside and gently pulls a lock of hair that falls down the middle of your back. You smirk to yourself, still in denial you have him so in love with you. You pull him to the U-shaped couch and you take a seat in the middle of it, spreading your legs a bit as you look up at him.

“What we doin’ down here?” He teases.

“Shhh, take off your clothes for me,” you instruct, brushing your hair off your chest and making sure he’s looking at every inch of you. He smirks at you and nods his head.

He peels his jacket off of him and you watch as his nimble fingers work off every button of his shirt. He drops that to the floor and then reaches for the button of his pants. You could see the outline of his hard cock and it made you wet just looking at it. He lets his pants fall to the floor and kicks them to the side.

A pleased moan escapes your lips as you take in what you see, taking a deep breath before you begin to speak.

“Mmm… you look damn good too. Come closer,” you tease him. “I want you on your knees, now,” you tell him, standing right in front of you. He nods at you in a daze and sinks down slowly, staring at your body in front of him.

You put your legs over his shoulder as your hand trails down slowly into your panties. He looks at you starved, not being able to hide the fact he’s desperate for you. You discover how wet you are and rub your bud softly, creating the utmost amount of friction that makes you feel good.

“I’m so wet for you,” you groan.

His heated stare intensifies, “Fuck, I know baby,” he breathes.

“Here’s what I need you to do. I want you to use that tongue of yours and eat me. Make me come all over your mouth,” you instruct. He groans, liking the sound of that. “I can do that honey.”

You slip off your panties and reach for his arm, lifting his fingers to your mouth. You put two of his fingers in your mouth and suck on them, swirling your tongue around them to get them all wet. He cusses under his breath and his eyes plead for you.

You put your legs back on his shoulder and guide his wet fingers to your folds.

“I want these inside me too,” you tell him. He rubs his fingers through your folds and nods his head drunkenly.

He can’t wait any longer and groans heavily as his two wet fingers spread your folds open. He leans down and begins to lick your folds, devouring your pussy. The moment his mouth is on you, you are a puddle. You hold onto a fist full of his hair as you feel your body weaken with every lick of his tongue. You could have sworn the last time he did this, it couldn’t get any better but now, you swear this is the best thing you’ve ever felt.

He suckles at your clit, making the throbbing in your core grow more for him. He doesn’t need much direction, he knows just where you like it and responds to your body so effortlessly. Your hips grind into his face and he groans when he feels this.

“Just like that baby,” you moan, pulling his hair tighter. He moans into you and works his tongue to your entrance, teasing and lapping there without entering inside. It was agonizing the way he’d give you so much yet not enough attention to your needy body. His thumb finds your aching bud and rubs it in circles as his tongue focuses on your core. You can feel the coil in your belly tighten and it won’t be long until you come apart.

He suddenly stops to look up at you and the most devious smirk forms on his face.

“Fuck baby you’re tasting so good. I’m going to keep you up all night,” he groans. Your heart leaps out of your chest and you moan his name.

He keeps looking at you, drunk on your body. He suddenly slips his finger inside you, all the way to his knuckle. You moan out, not having had anything inside you for some time. His long finger teased and felt out your wet walls, making you want more. He can read your expressions like a book now and knows you want more. So he slips a second finger inside you, then, a third. You gasp and he pumps his fingers deep inside you and teases you the way you like.

“Oh fuck, baby, yes. Yes right there,” you whimper. Your arousal drips down his fingers and his mouth is back on your clit, sucking and fucking you with his long digits. He moans more as he eats you, not getting enough of you.

“Make me come, baby, please make me come,” you beg him. He obeys and curls his fingers deep inside of you, suckling your clit and that’s when you see blinding stars in your eyes. Your body shutters and your core clenches around his fingers. Your whole body feels warm and trembles under him. He takes his fingers out of you and licks at your entrance, thrusting his tongue inside you and making it hard to breathe.

“So good baby. Oh my god,” you groan as he continues to lap at your folds. He makes these ungodly pent-up groans as he puts both of his hands on your hips, moving your body lower on the couch to eat you with more fervor. The way his mouth worshipped you made you ache for him. Your body shakes and you could have him do this all night. You pull back at his hair and make him look at you, slick covering his face.

“You did so good baby. Made me feel so good,” you say breathless, “Now it’s my turn. Sit down.”

He looks as though he wants to protest, but you don’t let him, you pull at his hair, making him groan. “Sit. Down,” you instruct.

He sits on the couch with his back against the pillows, his legs spread open, and his cock hard. You kneel in between his legs, taking his length in your hand and slowly start to jerk it. Your thumb gathers the slick precum around his head and spread it more along his shaft. He groans and closes his eyes as your hand works him.

“Look at me,” you tell him. He does as he’s told and moans louder when he sees your intense gaze.

“I want to suck on your cock baby. I wanna take as much as I can in my mouth and then, I’ll fuck you. Ride it how you like,” you tempt.

Your other hand finds his heavy balls and you massage them in your hand, making him groan loudly.

“Fuck mama, please. Put your mouth on me.” He begs, his hand reaching out to squeeze one of the pillows on the couch.

You tease him with kisses first, getting inches away from his cock, but move somewhere else and repeat it over and over. He lets out the most frustrated groans as your hand moves along his shaft. You finally give in and swirl your tongue around his head. He lets out a pleased groan and cusses your name.

“Fuck baby I’ve missed that mouth,” he sighs. You hum gently and take more of him in your mouth, sucking and licking the bottom of his shaft. Your other hand continues to massage his balls, making him buck into your mouth. You find his hand and bring it to the back of your head, making him grip a fist full of hair. You moan when you feel the pressure there and take more of him in your mouth. His body tenses up and you groan when you feel his length hit the back of your throat.

“Goddamn baby, you’re killing me,” he groans through his teeth, pulling on your hair tighter. You slowly take his cock out of your mouth and suck at the tip of it, making eye contact with him.

“Oh I’m sorry, you want me to stop or take more?” you tease. He doesn’t say anything right away, just begs with his eyes. You wait for his answer, rubbing your thumb along his tip. He bucks his hips up as you play with his sensitive head over and over.

“Fuck, take more baby, give me more, please. Put my cock down your throat,” he pleads. Your core squeezes at the sound of his words and you bite your lip at him.

“Okay, help me take more then,” you insinuate. He takes a deep breath and looks down at you hungrily.

You tremble a bit, wrapping your lips around him once more, and move faster on him, taking his long length deep inside your mouth. He moans your name loudly, his hips moving with each thrust of your mouth, helping you take more of him. You can feel your arousal leak out of you and down the side of your thigh. You squeeze your legs together, hoping that would stop the throbbing so you can focus on him more. But it doesn’t and you just have to suffer through it.

You relax your jaw and let his cock fuck your throat, taking as much of his length as you can. His hand finds your hair again and cusses your name, thrusting up into you. You want to crumble right there at how he says your name and grunts as his cock is stuffed in your throat. The way he sounded was so unbelievably hot and erotic. Your hand finds your folds and you slowly rub your clit, sending a shockwave through you. You let out a guttural moan as your fingers work on you and send a vibration through him. He gasps as you move faster on him, wanting him to come. You can feel his body tense up, unable to hold back anymore. Your tongue works the underside of his shaft and his hips stutter into you, feeling his cock pulse and pour his hot seed down your throat. You moan as he finishes, loving that you’ve made him feel this good.

“Ah fuck baby, yes. Oh God yesss,” he whimpers, thrusting a few more times into you as the last bit of seed comes out of him.

You slowly pull him out of your mouth, making sure he watches you swallow everything he poured into you. He groans when he sees you swallow, giving him a slight smirk when you do so. You go back to tease his head, licking every so gently but knowing he is sensitive from his release. He gasps as he feels your tongue back on him.

“Oh mama, no. Too sensitive,” he whimpers. You don’t listen though, you keep teasing, liking to hear the different moans and whimpers you get out of him. He tries to squirm out of your grasp, sitting up straighter on the couch.

You stop momentarily, looking at him with a smug grin on your face. You straddle his hips, taking his length in your hand and lining him up to your entrance. He was still a bit hard so you knew he’d get inside you with ease. You slowly sink down on him, your wetness covering his cock completely. He whimpers in agony, looking at you shocked.

“This better baby? Don’t you like it when my pussy squeezes around you,” you taunt with a roll of your hips. He lets his head fall back onto the couch, breathing heavily and groaning.

“Fuck… Fuck you’re killing me.” He groans. You roll your hips once again and he shoots his head up to look at you.

“Don’t lie to me, baby. I know you love this,” you groan into his ear. He nods his head at you, clutching onto your body tight.

“Yes, you feel so good. Agh ride me please,” he moans deeply. You rock your hips slowly on him, taking only a few inches at a time. You make his head tilt up to the mirrored ceiling, “Watch how I ride you. Watch how I like to ride your cock.” You groan, slowly moving up and down on him. You lean away from his body and place your hands on his chest.

You could feel his length getting hard again inside you, filling you even better than before. You watch as he keeps his eyes open as you slowly fuck him. He looks so perfect like his, being so submissive to you and completely at your mercy. You look over his body, seeing how there’s this vein that bulges out of his neck when you ride him faster and he’s trying not to come again. Pulling his hair swiftly, he shoots his eyes open and looks at you intently. You kiss him passionately, your tongue tangling with his and moaning deeply. He smiles between kisses and you pull away slightly, watching his dark hungry eyes get even darker.

“Feed baby. I want you to take a bite,” you coo. He stills and looks at you shocked.

“Honey, but I-,” he tries to say but you cut him off.

“No buts. You need it,” you tell him. You take his hand and make his fingers trace the top of your shoulder where it meets your neck. “Bite right here. I want you to feel good baby,” you coo.

This time, he doesn’t need to be told twice as he places his hand on the back of your head and pulls you in, kissing up and down your neck. You sink down on the rest of his length and grind at the base of his cock, pulling his body flush to yours. He hisses and nips at your neck, grumbling to himself.

“Are you really gonna ride me as I do this? Such a naughty fucking girl,” he growls, pushing his hips up into you. Your heart starts to hammer away in your chest and you want him more than you ever have.

You gasp at how good he feels and you hold onto his shoulders tight, wrapping your arms around his neck and your fingers intertwining in his hair. You hear his breathing pick up and he starts to growl. You know his fangs have descended and is ready. Your hips roll onto him and you let out a breathy sigh, “Please,” you beg.

He holds you tight and sinks his teeth into you, groaning as he does so. You can tell he was trying to be gentle and not hurt you too much. His sharp fangs stung when they entered your skin but by no means felt like how you were bitten before by Raphael or Daniel. You swivel your hips and a new pleasurable sensation floods your mind and body. He felt so good like this. You feel his tongue dance on your skin, lapping at your blood seeping out of you. He moans as he tastes you, pushing his cock in and out of you ever so slowly.

“Fuck baby yes, just like that,” you groan, pushing the back of his head into your neck more. You feel him suck harder on you, drinking more of your blood. His hands move to the front of your body and they find your breasts, squeezing them firmly. You close your eyes, letting all these sensations take over your body. You fuck him harder, feeling the heat in your belly roar for more. Gasping and groaning for him, you feel his hands wander to your hips now, stilling you as he fills you to the hilt. You gasp, not having had him do this to you in such a long time. It felt like he was going to break you in two with his cock.

He gently starts to take his mouth off of you, licking at the remaining blood coming out of the wound. He looks at you in the eye and gives you a mischievous little grin, his blue eyes emerging and red disappearing.

“Oh baby,” he growls, “Such a fucking dirty girl. Liking to be fucked and fed from hmm?” He groans.

You take a short breath, trying to focus on him and not how his cock is completely ruining you.

“Y-yes baby. I like it a lot,” you whimper, feeling the mood of the room shift completely.

He tsks his tongue disapprovingly, “What am I to do with you? Maybe I should keep ruining you all night,” he says darkly.

“Y-y-yes… please,” you breathe. He hums softly and picks you off of him.

“You’re gonna be a good little girl for daddy? I listened to you, now you need to listen to me,” he groans in your ear. You nod quickly and hold onto him tightly.

He takes your hand and leads you back up the stairs to his bedroom.

“Get on the bed baby, on your back,” he commands, his eyes serious and domineering. Your heart pounded in your ears, unable to function properly with how he was looking at you.

He grows impatient, not liking how you’re not listening to him.

“I thought you said you’d listen,” he says gruffly, giving your ass a swift spank.

“Sorry Daddy,” you whimper, biting your lip and slowly turning around to crawl onto the bed. You lay down and your hands trail over your breasts, making sure he’s looking at you.

He smugly smiles at you, plotting what he wants from you next.

“Open those pretty legs for me, baby,” he says, taking his cock in his hand. Your slick still covered his shaft and made a wet, sloppy sonance as he rubbed himself. You moan inwardly as it drove you crazy, wishing he would just take you now. But no, he wanted to play with you.

You part your legs a bit, staring up at him patiently, knowing this isn’t what he wants from you. He looks at you disapprovingly.

“Come on baby, am I going to have to put you in the position I want you, or you gonna be a good girl and do it for me?” He grumbles.

“I’ll be good, but I want your hands to do the work,” you retort. He bites his lip, gets on the bed, and pushes your legs wide apart.

“You’re just begging to be ruined aren’t ya?” He says as he gets in between your legs and his thumb finds your clit, “You want me to fuck you til the sun comes up and make you beg for more is that it?” He growls.

“Mhmm… I know you want that too,” you moan as he plays with you, making your whole body turn aflame. He pushes your legs up, closer to your chest, and holds them there.

“Fine baby, I’ll ruin this little pussy all night,” he says taking his length in his hand. He rubs his cock through your wet folds, making you moan with need. He sighs when he does this too, looking at how much your body aches for him.

“Look how wet you are for me, dying to have me fuck you,” you groan as his tip teases your entrance. You gasp when you realize you’re more sensitive than you thought.

“Yes, Elvis, please fuck me,” you beg.

In one swift motion, he thrusts his length inside you, making you cry out in pleasure. He moved in long rolling thrusts, making sure you felt every inch of him go inside of you. He can’t help but cuss when he’s deep inside you, moaning how good you feel. His hands grab onto your thighs, squeezing them tightly as he pounds into you faster.

You writhe underneath him, unable to look at him above you for too long. With the way he was taking you, you knew it wouldn’t be long til you came undone. His hand slithers to your throat, making your eyes pop back open to look at him.

“Let me see those pretty eyes baby. Let me watch how much you like this,” he says with a snap of his hips. You groan in agony, staring into his lust-filled blue eyes. His gaze was so intense, too much to handle for a poor human. You can’t help but moan his name, watching how a smirk would form on his face when you said it.

“So good Daddy, feels so good,” you gasp out.

“I know mama I know, taking me so good,” he breathes. Your eyes trail down to see where you two are meeting, watching how each thrust of his hips makes you more wet. Your arousal gathers at the base of his cock in a sticky puddle and groan louder, overwhelmed with everything that you’re feeling and seeing.

You can’t seem to stop moaning for him, cursing his name, or crying out for him to keep going. Thank God no one was in the house, it was a good decision to make after all.

His hand caresses your face, turning your full attention back to him.

“I know baby, I won’t stop. You feel too good to stop now. So fucking wet and tight for me,” your eyes roll back at his words and groan loudly. You feel his fingers press against your lips and you instinctually open them for him to put them in your mouth.

“Suck on these baby, shhh nice and quiet. Listen to how wet you are when I fuck you,” he groans. You feel your heart thump out of control and suck on his fingers, trying to stay quiet but know this is pure torture.

He moves slowly again, making slow, wet sounds come out of you. You grab onto his wrist, squeezing it tightly as his hips move faster into you and make the most obscene sounds come out of your core. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the coil in your belly about to snap any second. Your walls begin to flutter and you look up at Elvis with pleading eyes. He keeps you in his gaze, not letting you come just yet. He wanted you to beg for it. He fucks you harder, watching how you writhe underneath him for your release. You whimper for him, begging with your eyes to have him let you finish.

“Goddamn baby, being so good. I know you wanna come now. Come for me,” he coos, taking his fingers out of your mouth and rubbing your clit as he grunts deeply.

You see stars in your vision once more and cry out his name, your core squeezing around him. He cusses under his breath and moans loudly. It all felt so intense like it was the first time all over again. His thrusts become ragged and sporadic as he groans your name and comes inside you. You feel how much he’s come, filling you with it and gasping for breath. You feel light and exhausted at the same time. Nothing can give you the same feelings Elvis gives you. He swivels his hips lazily while he’s still inside you, making you squirm with how sensitive you are. You gasp for air and try to calm down your frantic breathing as his cock still stuffs you. God, you don’t understand how he drives you this crazy but you’ll never get enough of him.

He hums softly to himself and kisses you deeply, breathing in and taking in your scent.

“Mine,” he growls into your mouth.

“Yours,” you whimper back, kissing him with need.

He lets go of your legs and lets you wrap them around his torso, keeping you two pieced together. He quickly breaks the kiss and smiles at you, brushing back the hair that’s fallen on your face.

“Say it again for me,” he begs. You smirk at him, not needing to ask what he’s referencing.

“I love you,” you whisper. He kisses your cheek and you can feel his lips turn into a smile.

“Again,” he moans.

“I love you,” you whimper. He moves down to your neck, kissing and nipping there.

“Again baby,” he whines.

“I love you, baby.”

“Forever?” He asks.

“Forever.”

Tagging:

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@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog. @myradiaz @tacozebra051

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@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything . @ohjustpeachy

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@mh777ep1938 @50sexyshadesfashionista @oldh0llyw0od @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis smut #elvis imagine #elvis fic #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #70s elvis #vampire elvis #sinned awakening #dreamingofep

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

Text

Worth the Wait

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!LAPD analyst!reader

Summary: After too much time hiding your feelings for Street, you worry about him when someone begins targeting police officers. When he returns to HQ at the end of the day, he realizes just how oblivious he's been to both your feelings and his.

Warnings: angst to fluff, spoilers for/rewrite of S.W.A.T. 2x15 "Fallen" (except I added Hicks because he's great), softie Street at the end

Word Count: 4.0k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

Being a cyber technician and analyst for LAPD S.W.A.T. isn’t glamorous, but you love it. Days when you get to work in the situation room, providing backup and support to 20-David, are your favorite. Knowing that what you do helps them, keeps them safe, and makes their case to keep criminals behind bars is all the job satisfaction you could ask for. Despite working for S.W.A.T. as a whole, 20-David quickly became your favorite squad to work with and be around. Everyone on the team is like your family, with one exception.

“Hey!” Luca greets you when you enter the situation room. “I thought you got promoted or something, it’s been a while!”

He tries to ruffle your hair, but you duck away with an amused smile.

“Rocker put in a special request, so I’ve been working with 50 squad. I miss you guys, though,” you answer.

“I’ll be sure to tell Rocker you said that,” Deacon adds, smiling as he enters.

“I told him. Threatened to quit unless he gave me a break.”

“Look who’s back,” Hondo exclaims as he wraps an arm around you in half a hug.

“Hicks told me that I could work here until I get a new project,” you explain. “So, the next few calls, you get to look forward to my voice in your ear.”

“Street will love that,” Hondo replies.

“I’ll love what?” Jim asks, his brows furrowed until he sees you at Hondo’s side. “Welcome back from the dark side!”

“Nerd,” you mumble.

Street smiles, not the friendly ‘I see you as a little sister who I also work with’ smile that the other guys give you, but a genuine smile. Your matching grin makes Luca shake his head, tired of watching you and Street move in circles around each other, unwilling to admit that you have feelings for one another. The team is convinced, however, that you’d say something if Street gave you the tiniest hint of being on the same page, but he’s an oblivious, in love idiot who can’t see what is right in front of him.

“She’s working situation room for a while,” Luca responds. “So, we get to deal with her in the field now, too.”

“You’re hurting my feelings, Luca,” you say with an overexaggerated pout.

“They’ll heal.”

Street rolls his eyes at Luca’s teasing. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t connect with you like the other guys can. Unsure about whether it’s you or him, he maintains his friendliness but refuses to push for more out of an unfounded fear of losing you. You are coworkers, maybe even friends, in his eyes, but he can’t understand the desperation he feels whenever he sees you. Desperation to be more.

“You’re so blind,” Tan mutters as he passes Street.

“Alright, guys, as happy as we are to see our favorite analyst,” Hondo begins, smiling as he shakes your shoulder. “We’ve got range time to get in. Grab your gear and let’s go.”

“Care to watch me demolish your boy over there?” Luca asks you.

“He’s not my boy,” you reply.

“Sure.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Standing between Rocker and Street, you watch 20-David walk through practical application shooting situations. Focusing on their accuracy and marksmanship, you don’t notice Street glancing over at you and Rocker every few seconds. You’ve spent time with Rocker over the last few weeks, and Street doesn’t understand why that makes him feel strange.

“Jam. Switch,” Hondo calls.

You watch Deacon switch hands, still ignorant of Street’s eyes on you.

“Transition drill complete,” Rocker announces. “Make your weapons safe and holstered.”

“I see you putting in work with that left hand, Deac,” Hondo applauds. “Good job. Someone’s got a little extra pep in their step today. I wonder why that is.”

20-David’s replies overlap: “Tell us what?” “What?” and “Yeah, what’s the word, Deac?”

“Well, because of, uh, what Annie went through last year, the doctor wants to induce labor to avoid risks. So I’m gonna work half a day and have a baby tonight,” Deacon answers.

“Oh, whoa. Congratulations, man,” Luca offers, high-fiving Deacon.

“Congratulations,” you add, smiling as Deacon nods.

“Sure beats what I got going tonight,” Luca says.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” Deacon inquires.

“I got roped into hitting a single’s bar with this guy as his wingman.” Luca points to Street, and you lick your lips to hide how quickly your smile falls.

“What? It’s a great way to meet girls,” Street argues.

You chew your lower lip and swear you can feel your hope and happiness leaking out. Part of you thought that Street felt the same and you’d have a chance to tell him everything, but knowing that he’s going to a bar to pick up women makes you rethink everything.

Hondo, Deacon, and Luca send Street a wide-eyed look before pointing or gesturing toward you, where you’re looking at Rocker’s tablet to review their drill scores.

“What?” Street asks.

The guys sigh, unable to deal with his stubborn obliviousness for a moment longer.

“Hey, Deac, let me know when I can visit Annie and the baby,” you call.

“You got it,” he replies as Street turns away.

Tan and Hondo discuss their plans for the night before Hondo challenges Street to a one-on-one drill.

“What do I get if I win?” Street asks.

“You might get a box of chocolates,” Hondo answers.

“Better be heart-shaped.”

“I’m gonna go,” you tell Luca.

Hondo’s phone beeps, and you stop by the door.

“Whoa, whoa. Flag’s up,” he says before the other phones in the room chime, yours included.

“Officer shot,” Hondo reads. “Let’s move.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Central Division’s currently looking for multiple shooters,” Deacon announces. “Search starting at Lochlyn and Pacific.”

“That’s the rec center in South LA,” Luca adds.

“They know if our guy was under cover? Vice?” Tan asks.

“Word I got is he was a patrol cop on break, just parked,” Hondo answers.

“What? Shot in his cruiser?” Street inquires.

Hondo nods and speaks into his comm to ask if you know the officer’s name.

“I can’t tell you until the family’s been notified,” you answer.

“I got you,” Hondo replies. “Keep us updated.”

“I’m with you the whole way.”

“All right,” Hondo says, turning his attention to 20-David. “On my mark we convene…”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Do you think it’ll happen again?” you ask Hicks, standing across the table from him.

“What? Another cop? Depends entirely on the motive, but if our guys find ‘em first, they won’t have the chance.” Hicks sends you a comforting smile before saying, “I know you’re worried about the team, but they’re going to be fine. You being here for them is going to keep them safe, too.”

“I know it’s important, just- I feel like I’m removed from the case. Anything could happen out there, and most of it is stuff that I can’t warn them about.”

“You’re a good analyst, and we put you in here for a reason. Just remember that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“We canvassing security footage?” Hondo asks.

“Yeah, no cameras on any houses and nearby buildings picked up anything,” Detective Burrows replies.

“Mind if I have a member of my team double check?”

“Please do.”

Hondo says your name, and you rush to acknowledge him. “I need you to double-check nearby security footage, and see if you can find anything that’ll help us ID our shooters.”

“Yes, sir. You suspect that they were casing the cop?”

“Maybe, that would explain how they knew he was here.”

“Officer did volunteer hours at the rec center for Operation Progress,” Burrows says. “Whoever they are, the shooters came and left on foot. Entry gate has a license plate scanner. We already ran them from earlier today, all came up clean.”

“Then these guys are long gone by now,” Street concludes.

“Street,” you radio. “Which direction has the greatest number of houses?”

“Uh, West of the shooting location,” he answers. “Why?”

“If they left on foot, they wouldn’t run into the open. I’ll check all of the cameras I can find and get back to you. Be careful.”

“Copy that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

While Hondo breaks away from his team to talk to the locals and get more information, you scour every camera feed you can find. None of the cameras caught the shooters, but as 20-David separates before their planned rendezvous, you can’t help but worry that they’re weakening themselves, creating openings for another attack. Only this time, you fear one of them will be the target.

“He’s gone,” Hicks says as he returns. “Officer Schwartz just passed. Now we’ve got a cop killer on our hands. We’re sending Mumford and Rocker to assist, but we need you more than ever now.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll find them.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Mizael ‘Tuzo’ Martinez,” Hondo says as he returns to the situation room.

You type the name as he says it, quickly finding his file. “’El Tuzo.’ Multiple offender... the LAPD database should name a software or something after him, he’s got a rap sheet longer than this table.”

“L2D gang leader,” Hondo reads. “You think this guy’s graduated from running drugs to being a cop killer?”

You look up, waiting for an answer. When the DEA is mentioned, you return your attention to what little bit of data you’ve collected. You know the wiretap intel is good, but you have nothing to add to the conversation without hearing the recording.

Worried about Street, you try to focus entirely on the map you’ve created of possible routes from the scene, but there are too many possibilities to narrow it down to a single direction.

“We need a plan that doesn’t give them time to prepare or let lookouts warn Martinez to run,” Jessica says.

“Just walk in,” you murmur, “that’s what they did.”

“That’s not a terrible idea, but we can’t use the front door,” Hondo responds, nodding at you. “Police presence is high in that neighborhood. With our perimeter just up the road, we’ll look like spillover from Watts. So we come in from above, we fast-rope down. I’ll lead Red Team’s staggered entry, shallow to deep. And we use non-lethal rounds for crowd control. That’ll help us get Martinez out.” Hondo looks at you to ask, “We can do that, right?”

Looking at a map of the area, you nod. “No reason I can see that it wouldn’t work. Chances of him having eyes in the sky seems unlikely.”

“Blue team will pick you up on the ground and bring you back here,” Jessica adds, solidifying the plan. “Let’s go get him.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Air 17 is almost to location,” you alert. “D-Team has 30 seconds to target.”

“This is 20-David to Command,” Hondo calls. “Exfil point clear on the Kerlon block, northwest outlet. Copy.”

“Roger that, 20-David,” Jessica replies. “Blue Team standing by for your signal.”

“Commander, how are we going to keep the exfil point clear? It’s fine now, but by the time they get back out…” you pause when Street’s voice comes over the comms as he lands on the rooftop and calls for the gear.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Hicks promises. “They’ll be able to exfil.”

Turning back to the computer, you watch Street’s tracker blink on the screen as he moves with the rest of the team. Keeping an eye on the exfil point via satellite, you notice several cars speeding toward it.

“Commander Hicks,” you alert, pointing to the incoming traffic.

“This is 20-David to command, we have confirmation on the package,” Hondo radios.

“Blue team’s 30 seconds out,” Jessica replies. “Proceed to Kerlon and Pacific.”

“They’re going to get ambushed!” you whisper to Hicks, who gestures for you to wait before raising any alarms.

“Hondo, we got a situation,” Rocker says. “Kerlon exit’s blocked. I count 30, 40 hostiles approaching from the north.”

Hicks nods, and you begin looking for an alternate exfil route.

“I thought you said they wouldn’t have eyes in the sky!” Burrows yells.

“I said it was unlikely, not impossible.”

“You couldn’t have done more research? I thought you were supposed to be good at your job!”

“That’s enough, Detective,” Hicks interjects. “What’ve you got?”

“30-David, repeat that?” you ask.

“There’s a lookout in the adjacent building with a two-way radio,” Deacon says.

“All right, listen up. Deacon and Chris, detain the lookout.”

“Attention, blue team. Move to the southern end of Kerlon to exfil the team,” Jessica instructs.

“This is 20-David to Command, package en route,” Hondo radios.

You press a button, switching your radio so only Street can hear you. Holding your breath, you watch the map on your screen, blue and red dots showing you the location of each S.W.A.T. member. When you see Deacon and Chris fall back and hear the shots fired call, time seems to slow down. Street moves with Hondo and Martinez, but Rocker’s updates worry you. There is no good way to get your team out while trapped between two large groups of hostiles.

“Hondo, Street,” you radio, switching frequencies again. “I need you to find a way to get through the alley.”

“Redirect armored to meet us?” Hondo requests.

“You got it.”

You can hear Street ushering his teammates through the hole in the alley wall, but when he falls silent, you panic.

“Street?” you call, watching the trackers move forward slowly. “26-David! Come in!”

“This is 20-David, package secure,” Hondo says as they move away from the scene.

“Street, talk to me!” you demand.

“Hey,” Street replies, out of breath. “We’re all good. Headed back to base.”

You rip your comm out of your ear, relieved to hear an all-clear, before pushing past Burrows to get some air. Knowing that someone is targeting cops and feeling helpless is not helping your attachment to Street. Despite being disappointed upon learning about his plans for the night, you still care about him and need to know he’s safe. Those minutes of silence, not knowing, were pure agony.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Makes you think about what’s really important, doesn’t it?” Luca asks.

“You mean, getting the guy responsible for putting one of us in the dirt?” Street replies.

“That, plus sometimes you take things for granted. You forget it can all be gone, in a moment. It’s been like over a month since I spent some quality time with my pops.”

“You should invite him over to the house.”

“Think I will. But you should invite someone over, too.”

“Are you referring to my mom? We’re still not talking.”

“Most definitely not who I was referring to.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Street,” you call when you see him walk in. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Just couldn’t answer there for a few minutes. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I was just- it’s stressful, not knowing if everyone’s okay and when all those people showed up… I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Hey, thanks for your help out there. We wouldn’t have got Martinez without you.”

Street smiles before walking away to talk to Tan, and you sigh as you watch him go. Maybe when this is over, you’ll tell him how you feel. But then again, rejection does not seem like a good end to such a stressful day.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Another cop just got shot,” you say, reading a new message.

“And Martinez has the perfect alibi,” Hicks complains.

“It’s the same group of shooters. Witness saw them; two of them left on foot, but the cop shot the third, winged him, and he’s held up in an office.”

“Let’s go get him!” Hondo yells before 20-David rushes to Black Betty.

✯✯✯✯✯

Now that a second cop has been shot, you know it’s a pattern. Same MO means the same shooters, and with Street following them, you have no choice but to worry that they may target him next. Any member of the team or the LAPD could be next. With Bonnie worried about Tan and Annie getting ready to have a baby, you feel like Street is the only one without someone to go home to if – when he survives this.

Listening to the comms and digging for any information you can find, you stay quiet and do your job. Burrows hasn’t apologized, and you doubt he will, but you refuse to let him throw you off. You’re good at your job, and you are going to get every single member of your team home safe. You would not be opposed to becoming that home for Street.

When Hondo tells you that the local PD took out the third shooter, and they’re back to square one, you take a deep breath. Annie sends you a text, and you quickly reply that Deacon is safe and should return to HQ soon. Wishing you were brave enough to tell Street that you’re worried about him as openly as Annie expresses worry for Deacon, you fall back into your routine of finding information.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I got something!” you cheer, mirroring your screen to the display in the situation room. “An ATM camera captured these men, who fit the witness description, just a few minutes ago. They run behind the auto shop, so they’re either still there or no more than a few blocks away now.”

“We’ll do a sector search,” Jessica agrees, dividing the nearby area into sections.

“But we’re blind past the auto body shop,” Burrows points out. “Thanks,” he murmurs as he passes you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Listening in on the raid of Hector Ledesma’s house, you fail to stay calm. Letting yourself do the one thing you’re not supposed to do in your job, you worry. Removing your earpiece, you excuse yourself from the situation room and walk out, pacing up and down a hallway as you try to level your breathing.

“Hector wasn’t there,” Hicks says, raising a hand to stop you. “His dad was. Hector’s trying to get revenge, or something like it, for his brother. Died in a prison riot on what he claims to be a bogus charge, he's blaming cops for framing him.”

“So, what now?” you ask.

“We’re going to track Wong’s phone.”

“Wong?”

“He disappeared from the office. We think he went to meet up with the others, finish what they started.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You sit in the hallway, where the entrance is clearly visible. It’s dark out, but when red and blue lights reflect off one of the walls, you stand and wait to see who is walking inside.

Street walks in before the rest of 20-David, and you run toward him, crashing into him before wrapping your arms around him in a hug. He freezes, his arms over your shoulders as you squeeze him in relief.

“Hey, where’s my hug?” Hondo teases.

“Yeah, I want a turn, too,” Luca adds.

Street furrows his brows, confused as to why they’re teasing you about hugging him first. When you pull back but don’t remove your hands from his side, he thinks he may know what's going on.

“Glad Street’s warm and happy,” Tan muses as he walks by.

As you keep your hands on Street, looking up at his face with a relieved smile, Street can’t help but smile himself. There’s something else in your eyes, though. Able to recognize the lingering worry in how you look at him, everything clicks for Street. How you treat him, touch him, ask him to be safe, and the genuine fear in your voice when he didn’t respond earlier make him realize that the feelings he’s been too oblivious to recognize are reciprocated.

Street’s smile grows, and Hondo rolls his eyes, anticipating what’s to come. Clearly enjoying your attention, Street prepares to use his new knowledge of your feelings to get under your skin a bit before doing what he really wants to do. Despite not recognizing his own feelings until this moment, Street knows that deep down, he’s been falling for you as long as he’s known you.

“Keep holding me and I’m going to think you have a crush on me,” Street taunts playfully.

You pull your hands away but don’t move any farther from Street. Deterring you won’t be as easy as making a few jokes about how you feel for Jim Street.

“I guess I should have known, I mean, you don’t stare at everyone like this, do you?” he adds. “And the taps on the back when you tell me to be careful, those are special made for me.”

“If they are?” you ask, smiling as Street pretends to think.

“Then I’d have to say you did an excellent job creating them. Ten out of ten, they’re very good incentive to come back safe.”

“Are you going to keep teasing me, or are you-“

“I’m going to do something about it,” Street interrupts, finishing your sentence. “Would you like to get dinner with me? Just you and me.”

“Like a date?”

“Not like a date. It is a date, and it’ll be the best one you’ve ever had. We’ll be even more inseparable, and the guys will love it.”

You laugh, nodding as you agree to go on a date with him. Giddy at the idea, you can only smile when he asks if now is a good time. Glancing down at your phone, you read a new message from Annie and forget about the prospect of a date.

“Annie’s having a complication, I have to get to the hospital,” you tell Street.

“Hondo wants the team to meet him there, too. I’ll drive you, let’s go.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you arrive at the hospital, Street has to tap your arms to request you loosen your grip on him. He takes your hand as you walk inside together. You’re the first to arrive, and you let Street lead you to a seat in the waiting room. You pull Street’s hand into your lap, tracing the lines on his palm while you wait.

When you hear Hondo and Luca talking outside, Street pulls his hand back, winking at you as he picks up a magazine. Luca, Tan, and Hondo say hi to you as they take seats. The tension in the room is thick, but being with people who care about you and each other helps.

“Annie’s tough,” Hondo reminds everyone. “She’s gonna pull through for the both of them.”

As they begin discussing Tan’s gift for Bonnie, you glance toward Street.

“I was worried it might come off as desperate,” Tan says.

“Nah. Hitting a singles’ bar with a colleague is desperate,” Luca argues.

“Tactical,” Street replies, his eyes on the magazine.

Luca scoffs before offering, “Whatever you say, man.”

Street tosses the magazine to the side, placing his hand in your lap again. You immediately take it between yours, leaning your head against his shoulder. He hums, turning so you’re more comfortable.

“Thank you for coming back to me,” you whisper.

“Are we supposed to ignore this?” Hondo asks.

“I can’t,” Luca argues. “When did this happen?”

“Have you ever experienced one of her hugs? They’re life-changing,” Street responds.

“No, you just finally realized that you like me,” you say against his jacket. “Idiot.”

“Now that part I can agree with,” Hondo cheers.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Street whispers in your ear.

While you continue waiting, you move closer to Street, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders as you lean against his side.

“I have so many compliments to make up for,” Street hums. “I guess I’ll start by saying that you’re beautiful.”

You sit up suddenly, squeezing Street’s hand when Deacon walks into the room, rubbing his eyes. Standing, you keep Street’s hand in yours as you rush toward him.

“Deac,” Hondo greets. “What’s the word?”

Deacon sighs before smiling to announce, “Her name is Victoria Josie Kay. She’s eight pounds, four ounces, and she’s fine, and Annie’s fine.”

“Baby girl in the building,” Luca cheers, hugging Deacon before walking through the door behind him.

You and Street step forward last, and Deacon’s eyes widen when he sees your joined hands. You drop Street’s hand to hug Deacon, but Jim takes it back as soon as you step away. Entering Annie’s room, you congratulate her on a beautiful, healthy baby girl.

“I did not think that Street would be the next one to get into a serious relationship,” Deacon whispers to Hondo, tucked away by the door.

“I didn’t think he was capable of it, but at least he came to his senses before it was too late," Hondo agrees.

#jim street x fem!reader #jim street x reader #jim street fluff #jim street #swat cbs #requests #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

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