#((since she's now more in-control of herself and not running on complete and total instinct anymore!))

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

It never ceased to make Randall's heartache, hearing about how distant Emily's family life was growing up, so much so that she barely spoke to her parents, knowing too well that everything she said would simply go in one ear and out the other. It was just so different from his own childhood experiences, how he knew he could always turn to his mother for...anything, really. He knew he could talk to her, ask for her advice, or just simply confide in her, and he knew she would listen. It gutted him to think Emily didn't have the same experience.

"Well, you're a part of this family now," he replied, trying not to dwell on the past (or be resentful of his in-laws), smiling tenderly as he added, "And I couldn't be happier about that: You're a Pace, as far as me and my folks are concerned, and that means the world to us, having you in our afterlives, Emily."

After all this time, in Randall's eyes, Emily had the family she deserved: Although his parents had long made it clear that they never wanted to replace her own parents in her heart, they had nevertheless stepped up to the plate, giving her the familial support she'd long craved. They listened to her, they were supportive of her, they respected her...they treated her like family, because that was what she was. A Pace was a Pace, no matter how they came to be a part of their little clan.

"And I'm sure my uncles and my grandparents will feel just the same way," he smiled, as he pressed a loving kiss to her golden locks: Although she didn't have the worries he and his father did about being accepted, he had no doubt that, by the end of this visit, the Burkes and the Paces would embrace her too.

[pyroclastic727]

Is Amity autistic?

In the Owl House fandom, we hear a lot about how Luz is written to be ADHD. Now I would like to present the flipside: Amity is coded as autistic.

Here’s the breakdown.

Amity is touch-averse. “BuT aMiTy ToUcHeS LuZ aLL tHe TiMe” nice try. The key to autistic touch-aversion is only being okay with touch when she initiates it. And that totally matches up with Amity. See, Amity is really happy when she initiates touch with Luz. She’s also cool with it when Luz holds her hand after standing near her for enough time that Amity can predict an incoming touch. That’s because Amity consents to that touch and expects it.

But when other people touch her? She doesn’t take kindly to that. When Luz initially bumped into her at Covention, she snapped at her and degraded her. Even when she bumped into Luz in Enchanting Grom Fright, her initial instinct was to snap at Luz, since she didn’t expect to be touched. When Hooty touched Amity’s face without consent, she flipped out and beat him up. Not even Lilith beat Hooty up when he wrapped her up in his mucus-filled tube, but Amity gave Hooty the injuries we all wanted to see him with, because he breached her boundaries without her consent. Even as late as the last episode, Amity fell over when her face got close to Luz’s on the bleachers, because she didn’t expect it.

Amity stims. Okay, this one took me a while to catch, since most of the time, Amity is very controlled with her actions. This symptom isn’t very intense; her senses aren’t understimulated too often, and she really only does it when she’s really excited.

Mainly, when Luz offered to carry her. While she adorably scrambled for words, she also flapped her hands against her legs. At first I thought it was just a cute thing she did, but there’s more to it. She was so excited to be held by Luz that it showed up in her hands flapping...a common stim. With Amity feeling more comfortable around her new friends than the old ones, I wouldn’t be surprised to see more stimming in the future.

Amity always has The Mask as her expression. You know, the one with her eyes half-lidded, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly downturned. I also call it the Resting Blight Face, for...reasons.

At first I thought it was just a way to hide her true emotions, since her parents are assholes. But even though Luz makes her feel accepted, she keeps doing it. It’s more like...you know that feeling when you’re thinking really hard, or uncomfortable, or ashamed, or even just relaxed, and you can’t think of which expression to wear quickly enough, so you put on an unreadable one to tide people over? Apparently most people don’t do that, since allistic people tend to have expressions for those feelings, ones that arise naturally.

Another symptom of autism is having hard-to-read expressions, or being less expressive. In Amity’s case, it’s the fact that she doesn’t see a need to have an expression in calmer moments, so she just uses her usual expression.   

Amity hyperfixates. This has several facets, so I’ll break this down.

She initially hyperfixated on school. And that’s how she became top student. Amity Blight is who you would mistake for a “gifted student.” But make no mistake...she is not gifted, and gifted is a bullshit label used to overexert people and force them to keep school as their special interest for their entire lives (and I may have a bit of a vendetta against it). Anyways, we already know she’s a perfectionist. My theory is that Amity originally was hyperfocused on school--the Abominations track, to be exact--and that’s part of how she got so good. Then, her focus shifted, but the school expected her to keep being top student. Cue the perfectionism; she was no longer able to focus on school like she wanted to, but everyone expected her to, so she got insecure about it.

She hyperfixates on Azura, just like Luz did. Yeah, she keeps it secret from the world, for most of the time. But she definitely likes Azura a lot. I mean, she started to reconsider her opinion on Luz when Luz offered her an Azura book. She destroyed her jock career because she tried to use an Azura move in real-life Grudgby. Her interest in Azura is long-lived, starting about the time that her interest in school would have expired (which would explain why she stayed closeted). And we can’t ignore the fact that she sees Azura in Luz and is definitely enjoying the parallels between herself and her fictional counterpart. (Which might not be a coincidence, but that’s an entirely different theory).

She hyperfixates on Luz. Yes, part of this is a crush. But a lot of us have watched Amity’s personality go from alpha bitch to cutest little bean in the Boiling Isles, all thanks to Luz’s influence. Lumity is not a rivals-to-lovers speedrun due to bad writing, it’s due to Amity hyperfixating. She’s already extremely introspective, going so far as to keep a diary where she analyzes and makes sense of herself. It’s not a stretch to say that she identified the faults that kept her from Luz and worked hard to change those off-screen. 

Amity keeps a journal. To me, this seems like masking. You see, Amity is what people would consider to be high-functioning, since she can pass for allistic. But in order to do this, she has to put in significant effort on her part. See, when she does something that makes it so she doesn’t pass, she just sees it as a problem (since she probably doesn’t know about autism, and she passes well enough that she would totally be undiagnosed). Then she tries to fix the problem, in order to keep being perfect. 

Amity has awkward body language. Thanks to the journal and other ways of masking, you don’t see this early on. But once she feels comfortable enough around Luz to let her guard down...she completely forgets boundaries. To review: in episodes 15-17, she throws herself at Luz, holds her formal rival’s hand for 24.71 seconds, blushes every time she sees Luz, and loudly declares her thirsty thoughts about Luz in uniform before literally running away. While some of this can be seen as normal gal pal things or crush things...you’d think a repressed wlw like Amity would try very hard not to touch Luz, so as to avoid being outed. Or at least she would do less of that stuff, so as to respect Luz’s boundaries the way she wants her boundaries to be respected. But that’s not the case, since she straight-up misses a lot of social cues. And since she feels comfortable around Luz, she doesn’t feel the pressure to be so paranoid about the cues, and can be her awkward self. From her point of view, she probably sees it as being freed from her parents’ judgment.

Amity takes things literally, sometimes. Now, this doesn’t happen all the time, since she isn’t heavily affected by this autistic trait. But when Luz says “I’m picking up what you’re putting down” and Amity says “I’m not putting down anything” and looks down...she not only missed the conclusion Luz drew from her words, but also assumed a literal meaning from her words. I can’t come up with many other instances of this, mostly because this doesn’t happen often. I would assume that Amity missed these a lot early on, and learned how to mask/identify them.

Amity is easily upset when things don’t go as planned. Let’s review these. In the library, she gets really mad at Luz when they end up stitched to a book, and it takes Luz’s sweet personality to get Amity to loosen up and laugh over it. When she goes to practice magic, and Luz steals her wand and uses it to get her siblings kidnapped, Amity locks Luz in a cage and assumes that she will get badly injured if she tries to fix the problems she caused. When Luz comes to her school, she panics and focus on how that doesn’t change anything. When she burns Willow’s mind, she appears absolutely terrified of being punished, flinching and bracing for impact when Luz finds her near the memories, constantly trying to distract Luz as they work together to save Willow, and hiding behind Luz when she confronts the Inner Willow. When Luz asks her to join her in Grudgby, Amity doesn’t initially agree, instead taking much more of the episode to come to terms with her involvement in it.

Amity likes predictability. She’s not attached to routines, but she does like being able to expect things. If she makes a plan for the day, she expects that day to adhere to that plan, and she doesn’t respond well when it changes. When Luz comes to her school, she focus on how that doesn’t change anything...not how that would ruin things or complicate things. Whenever she gets involved in Luz’s shenanigans, she either gets angry, scared, or takes a while to accept it. In a broader sense, she takes a while to accept that Luz and her shenanigans are a permanent fixture in her life--sixteen episodes, to be exact.

Finally, it would make for some excellent representation. An ADHD Dominican-American bisexual protagonist is pretty groundbreaking. But an ADHD Dominican-American bisexual protagonist girl who dates an autistic wlw witch girl from another dimension is exactly the kind of intersectional representation you’d expect to see from an unrestricted Owl House crew.

...Now, this might just be me hardcore projecting. I’m a little scared to post this because I don’t know how much of this is me reading into imaginary things, or trying to convince myself that Amity is like me. Feel free to debate/disprove me or support me in the comments. 

[letsbenditlikebennett]

It’s a Ruff Life || Ari & Kyle

TIMING: Time is fake PARTIES: @darkh0wl & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ari takes a go at being a wolf guru for Kyle. Turns out she doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing either!

Now that Kyle was all settled into his room at the farm, Ari figured it was as good a time as any to work on wolf things with him. She had to fight that part of her that screamed she was the last person who should be helping with this. The part of her mind and dreams that wanted to remind her that all of her attempts to help only ever brought more trouble. She’d just lost control only weeks ago though she suspected her completely tanked mental health and lack of sleep played a huge role in that. She’d gone running almost every day since and it was something. It was a fix all for her bigger problems, but it was a small thing she could show Kyle. Something that helped center them and their energy when their more wolf-like instincts fought to take the wheel. She reminded herself this is what Alcher would have wanted. While the older wolf would likely hate her for forgiving Kaden, the least she could do was help other wolves and use this farm as a safe space for them like Alcher had envisioned. 

 “Hey,” Ari greeted as he joined her outside, “I figured we could spar a bit if you’re down for it? A little more fun than running and just as effective at getting pent up energy and aggression out. I also have a soccer ball if you prefer soccer.” 

 Kyle felt…out of place. Less so than he would have felt within his mom’s house, but out of place nonetheless. Not really having had the chance to get close to Kitty yet, and not honestly knowing Ari super well gave him the feeling of living in someone else’s house, which he supposed he was. He was pretty sure this is what Alcher would have wanted, but there was a lingering guilt there that he hadn’t taken her up on it when she was still alive. Still, with all of those thoughts swimming around in his head, Kyle still knew this was right. This could be good for him, and maybe he could figure out his shit. 

 Hoping to figure out his shit was why he met Ari outside. “Hey yourself,” he said, inclining his head in her direction. The thought of fighting someone so much shorter than him made Kyle’s face twist up in worry. “Not that I don’t think you could handle yourself, Bennett, but I think I’d rather take you in soccer.” 

 Despite the exhaustion, her face lit up at the mention of soccer. Given Ari was worried she would lose control again after what happened with that not-a-lephrachaun fucker, she had taken a step back from recreational soccer. While the little shit at the bar probably deserved the mauling after what he bound that man to do, she knew the same couldn’t be said for the people at the rec center. “You play,” she asked before tacking on, “And don’t get it twisted, Pryce, I can kick your ass at both.” 

 Internally, Ari kicked herself for letting her competitive nature shine through. This was supposed to be about helping Kyle, not herself. Insight, that was right. Soccer had helped her all throughout growing up to keep a handle on all her pent up energy. She gestured toward the barn where she had stored some soccer balls and other various workout equipment. “Sports are good though. Probably the only way I kept from going totally nuts as a kid,” she said, “Soccer was always my favorite. I did order a punching bag to get set up in here too though. Sometimes punching the shit out of something does a lot to get energy and keep the wolf in you more chill.” 

 The only real problem with the bag was that it wouldn’t hit back. It’d be good for Kitty and Kyle though. Ari found herself on enough late night walks that she could always find something to fight. She picked up one of the balls from the corner of the barn and held it at her side. “I think start with the fun stuff first, maybe? It would tire us out,” she explained, “The three things I’ve found help me most with control is getting energy out, breathing through it and this one grounding technique my sister taught me, and not keeping emotions pent up. Last one’s a bit of a bitch.” So much so that she had almost willingly given them away her ability to feel them at all. “Whole home is a judgment free zone on that front at least.”

 A burst of anxious energy rose as Ari remembered tracking was also important. Which was most important? All she could think of was wondering what the hell Alcher would do. “Or tracking, tracking’s a good thing to learn, too,” she said shakily, “I–” Fuck, she was already fucking this up. Alcher’s taunting voice lingered in the back of her mind. You’re no wolf. Maybe she wasn’t, hell she was working for a fucking slayer, but was that so bad? “Fuck, I’m sorry,” she bounced back hurriedly, “I’ve never done… well, this, before. Feels like there should be someone… I don’t know.”

 A grin spread across Kyle’s face. “Oh, then you’re so on,” he teased. “I haven’t played soccer since high school, so I might be a little rusty.” He followed Ari to the barn, looking around and trying to imagine it all fixed up with more workout stuff. “A punching bag could be nice. Maybe we’ll start with soccer and work our way up to sparring.” He listened to the list of advice Ari gave him and nodded along, but internally cringed. The last thing he wanted to do was face his feelings head on or whatever. What was the point in that? Every time he got too emotional, it backfired in some way. His feelings were what got him to this point as it was. No, it was surely better to keep his feelings on a short leash. Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Kyle cleared his throat. “Judgment free zone,” he repeated. “I’ll remember that for the future.”

 Ari’s demeanor changed then. Kyle could almost see her getting into her head about things. “Hey,” he said, a look of confusion crossing his face. “It’s–you’re okay. It’s all good. I mean, I’ve never done this either.” He gestured vaguely at the space between the two of them. “I mean, you’re the first werewolf that I’ve made an effort to be friends with. I’m not well versed in werewolves. Or friends, I guess. Despite the fact that I’ve been both for years.” That didn’t come out the way he meant it to. It was like the words in his head and the words in his mouth were being dictated by two different people. Huffing a sigh, he shook his head. “What I’m trying to say is that there’s no pressure. I’m obviously really glad that you’re helping me out with all of this. But that doesn’t mean you’re being held to a higher standard. We’re cool, Ari.” He smiled at her, although the smile was a little tense. “Now, am I kicking your ass in soccer or what?”

 It felt like she was trying to slip into a role she wasn’t meant for. Even a year ago, Ari would have been more at ease with the idea of helping another wolf figure wolf things out. But hadn’t her own carelessness last August led to someone’s death… or if she really let her mind wander that far, created another wolf. Then with Alcher, being here just felt wrong. She couldn’t cut Kaden out of her life which made living on what Alcher created feel like a betrayal. She shook her head and carried the soccer ball out to the open field. “Yeah, sorry you’re right, I just.” She shrugged.

All of her doubts were still swirling just below the surface. Even if Kyle said it was okay, Ari still felt that dreaded pit in her stomach. How could she sit here and say all this shit he should be doing when she wasn’t doing half of it. She sighed and dropped the ball to the ground. “Yeah, you’re right, guess this is new to both of us. Hard to believe the friend thing is new to you though,” she offered with a laugh. His words were much kinder than she deserved. Maybe he didn’t hold her to a higher standard, but she knew Alcher would. Aside from that, she expected more of herself. This was what she’d always wanted, wolves to call family. That was the reason she insisted on staying. She shook her head a bit. “I guess you’re not wrong there. And I’m glad to have you here. I guess I just,” she sighed, “I’m giving all of this advice I’m not even following lately, feels hypocritical. I’ll preface with I haven’t been the most okay lately, but this is all stuff that used to work for me.” 

 The last part made Ari laugh. “You really think you can take me in soccer, huh? You know I still play and used to coach kids’ soccer, right?”  

 Seeing his words didn’t have the calming effect he had hoped they might, Kyle offered Ari a sympathetic smile. “It’s hard to be okay in the world right now. You don’t have to be okay; if there’s anyway I can help you out, too, I’d love to. Y’know we’re in this together. Wolf farm, wolf fam.” 

 He was maybe talking out of his ass, but Kyle had to believe what he was saying at least a little bit. It was hard to exist in this world. The only reason they were on the farm at all was because Alcher had been killed. It was a lot to consider your mortality related to the fact that you can turn into a werewolf, let alone to have it so dramatically thrown into your face like this. Kyle understood to some extent what Ari must be going through. If he could be there for her in any capacity, it would be nice to see what it was like being friends with someone without their trauma lingering over the relationship. That thought soured Kyle’s expression, so he tried to pretend it was fine. 

 “Okay, fine, you’re going to kick my ass, but I won’t go down without a fight!”

 It was clear Kyle wanted to help, to be there for her. Ari wished she knew how to let him. It used to be easy for her to lean on people, to talk things out, to trust herself, but that all seemed so far away from her now. She knew how helpless that feeling was, wanting to help, but being turned away. She nodded, “Yeah, that’s true. Guess it’d be kinda weird to be okay all the time, especially in this place. And you are helping, not having to pretend and not being alone and all. Wolf fam and all.”

 She offered him a smile. It wasn’t as wide as it may have been two years ago, but it was hopeful. Ari was sure it wouldn’t stop the nightmares. She wasn’t sure anything could at this point. But maybe she could take some of the pressure off of herself. Kyle didn’t need someone to be perfect, like anyone else, he just needed someone to be there and understand. She could do that. She wanted to do that. 

With a ball in her arm, she shot him a devious look. “You’re so on, Pryce.”

[miceenscene]

Fealty

female shepard/garrus vakarian | pwp | roleplay

wc: 8.9k

summary: Garrus & Shepard find some escapism in the midst of a war. | This is the product of listening to Rimsky’s Scheherazade too many times whilst pondering the inherent eroticism of blood oaths.

warnings: none, just sexy times galore

an: in this house, service switch Garrus hours are 24/7

ao3 | Masterlist

The Incident was an accident.

The Incident was an accident, and Garrus swore he would maintain that story to his dying day. It was not his fault that when Shepard really got him going sometimes odd things came out of his mouth. If anything, it was Shepard’s fault. Her and her flexible, strong, smooth body did unspeakable things to him that he really couldn’t rationally explain outside of the moment.

The night of The Incident, they’d started in the elevator, cautious at first then building as it became clear no one would interrupt them, then shedding armor carelessly in the hallway just outside her quarters. They’d made it to the desk at least for the first round. Then half a round against the fishtank, till finally she had him pinned down on the bed. His hands gripped her waist, following her rhythms eagerly, as she found her pleasure on top of him. She was warm and clenching around him as his head swam with Shepard.

There was a phenomenon that Garrus had long since noticed, beginning really from the first time they ‘blew off steam’. In the run up to Shepard’s peaks, he found himself… needing, craving, desperate to give her what she desired. Probably some combination of turian martial instinct–she was still the commander of the ship he served on, even if she claimed she wasn’t his commander anymore–and plain attraction to the woman herself. As well as his own perfectionist tendencies. If he was going to do a job, he wanted to do it The Best… and apparently that also applied to giving Shepard orgasms.

And it was somewhere in the middle of this phenomenon that it happened. The Incident. Shepard was close, close enough for them both to taste it. And she gave him an order, deeper more right there. And, as he happily obeyed, it just came out of his mouth in a soul-deep rumbling groan.

“Yes, your majesty.”

There was half a second before they both heard what he’d just said. Then it clicked. Glass shattered in the forefront of Garrus’ mind as a thousand warning lights suddenly started flashing.

Meanwhile, Shepard paused, teetering on her edge, and looked down at him. Her face was flushed, chest heaving with exertion, eyes over-bright. “What did you–”

It was a dirty move, but to distract her, Garrus pressed his thumb to her clit and canted his hips just so, shoving her into bliss with a loud exclamation. She pulled him down with her, both of them shuddering and swearing in each other’s arms.

His afterglow, however, was undercut with a strong tint of embarrassment. Luckily, nothing seemed to have bothered Shepard, who melted on top of him with her head resting on his chest. He trailed a few talons between her shoulder blades, making her hum and relax even more. Maybe she’d drift straight off to sleep, and in the morning his stupid mouth would be back under control.

But she shifted to the side into the waiting crook of his arm and molded around him in the usual, seemingly physically impossible for how perfect it was, way. “I should go clean up,” she sighed after another few minutes of quiet, stretching leisurely.

He hummed an agreement, relaxing now that it seemed his little outburst had been forgotten. “I’ll take care of the sheets,” he replied, nuzzling a kiss to the top of her head.

“Thank you,” she murmured, returning the kiss to the front of his carapace. With a soft smile, she got up. His hand traced the line down from her shoulder to her wrist to the tips of her fingers before she was out of reach. He admired the languid lines of her figure as she retreated, the bathroom door hissing shut behind her.

That was a close one.

Though he really should have known that his dodging skills were not that great. Or rather, Shepard’s ability to lay in wait should never be underestimated. Reckoning came a few evenings later. They were back in Shepard’s quarters again, but this time both reading through reports on her couch. Shepard liked to lean back against him and wrap his arm across her torso. Garrus liked it too because it was easy to lean over and stroke his mandible over her silky hair occasionally.

They’d been diligent for nearly three hours now, wading through the mounting horrors of war, but Garrus felt his eyes start to glaze over as he opened the next report from the Hierarchy. He blinked a few times to bring himself back into focus, only for it to happen less than two minutes later. Alright, perhaps it was time to call it a day.

His focus shifted to Shepard, a few tempting ideas popping up in the back of his mind. He brushed her hair to one shoulder so he could nuzzle a kiss to the other side of her neck. She hummed and her hand brushed the side of his face, but he didn’t have her full attention yet. That would have to change. He trailed the tip of his tongue up the side of her neck, up to her ear and over the shell of it, making the muscles in her core clench.

“Done already?” she asked, her voice just slightly airy.

“Done for tonight,” he rumbled. His hand covered hers on the datapad, updated casualty estimates from Earth. The numbers just never stopped growing. “You should be too.” She let him take the pad from her, setting it down on the coffee table, before laying back with her head in his lap.

“Perhaps you have a point.” Mentally setting aside the unfixable, she gave him a tired smile. “Did you want to go to bed? ...Orrr?”

“I’m a turian, Shepard. I’m pretty much always up for ‘orrr’.”

She laughed quietly and sat up to straddle his lap, arms resting on his shoulders and making his subvocals start to rumble at her proximity.

“How about you?” he asked, returning to his earlier work on her neck and sliding his hands across her waist. “Are you up for ‘orrr’?”

She hummed and leaned into his ministrations. “That depends.”

He really should have seen the trap, but he was too focused on trailing talon tips up the shallow valley of Shepard’s spine to see it at the time. “On?”

“Are you going to call me ‘your majesty’ again?”

Crap.

He froze, hands under her shirt, mouth open on her neck. “You heard that?”

“Yes, Garrus. I do tend to hear what you proclaim when you’re inside me.” She pulled back, making him look at her. “You mind explaining that one to me?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing, forget it.” And he tried to duck back in to distract her again, but she moved back once more.

“It’s not nothing. I saw your face as you said it…” There was a teasing light in her eyes, coupled with a similar smirk across her lips. “Oh, come on. Remember I was the one who pitched that whole ‘let’s pretend we’re having a first date’ thing?”

“There’s a difference between faking the date we never got and… this.”

“I don’t mind taking things a step away from reality… seems almost a necessity these days.” Her eyes half-turned towards where the datapad still lay.

That was a solid point. But some deep shameful part of him clenched at owning up to this particular non-reality. Her teasing look dimmed as he didn’t budge a metaphorical inch. Thank the spirits, it seemed like she might let this go. But he was caught off-guard when she cupped his face in her hands.

“There is nothing you could tell me about yourself that would make me love you less. You know that right?”

He flinched from how deeply she struck. Consciously, yes. He trusted her when she said she loved him. The subconscious application was… tricky at times to prove that it had been completely accepted. Not all the time, just rare instances. Like right now.

He nodded. “I know.”

“Okay. Good.” She tipped her forehead to rest it against his. He was the luckiest damn turian in the entire galaxy. And he loved her just as much; he hoped she knew even though he hadn’t said it just yet.

She smiled softly as she sat back. “You don’t have to tell me the explanation if you don’t want to. But…” She shrugged and moved off his lap, sitting on the couch next to him and picking back up her datapad. “If you did, maybe I could… play along.”

The last two words came out just a touch rougher around the edges, sending a fizzing thrill to his gut and calling his bluff all at the same time. Just like she’d no-doubt intended. A whole new host of tempting ideas popped up in the back of his mind, their sum total enticing enough to overwhelm the shame.

He was actually going to do this.

“How… much do you know about turian history?” he asked slowly, picking up his own datapad in a feigned casual manner to have something to look at.

“Very little.”

“Well, it’s not as much turian history as… turian historical fiction.” He sucked in a breath for the strength to power through to the end of the explanation. “A… scandalous novel I read as a young recruit. Set during the unification wars, about a warlord and… her right-hand warrior.”

He could feel her gaze land on him, but he maintained focus on the words-turned-unparsable-shapes of his datapad. Embarrassment singed the back of his neck as silence filled the room. His first instinct was right; this was a silly fantasy, best kept to himself and not shared with someone whose respect he craved like Shepard’s.

He heard her shift and then her hand was under his chin, tilting his head to look up at her. His breath caught in his upper chest when he met her eyes. She’d stood, making her taller than he was from where he was sitting. Her posture was taught, like on the battlefield, yet somehow tempting at the same time. Strength and power radiated from her. A smile hinted in her eyes, but her mouth was set into a stoic line.

“Do you want me to be your queen, Garrus?” she asked in a low voice that shifted like sand under a desert wind.

“Yes.”

One dune after another, the horizon seemed as far now at dusk as it had been at dawn. Always dancing and shifting, no matter how steadfastly the General moved towards it. The glaring suns had beat unrelenting against his helmet all day, scorching his armor and the sand beneath him. But as they slipped beneath the horizon, he finally caught sight of his destination in the far distance. A camp of tents lay in the shadow of the mesa, spotted with torchlight and waving flags of red and black.

A small flurry of alarm kicked up at his approach to the camp, then stilled as he was recognized by the watch. His men greeted him warmly, but the General didn’t slow. He headed straight for the largest tent at the dead middle of the camp, trimmed in gold with two guards at the entrance. Momentum pulled him inside the tent where he finally stopped, removing his helmet and falling to one knee on the sumptuous rug across the floor.

It was scent that whispered of her arrival, more than sound or sight. Cool jasmine with the slight tang of tempered steel drifted towards him, surrounded him, familiar and intoxicating. Then the soft drag of a silk robe across carpet met his ears, followed by her voice, low and calm as a viper.

“You have returned, General Vakarian.”

“Yes, my Queen,” he answered.

“Rise and report.”

He stood and breath caught in his chest as he finally saw her, his Queen. Every time he saw her, it was first her eyes that captivated him, green as a forest and piercing as a dagger. Her waist-length crimson hair was loose, brushed to gleaming over one shoulder, and she was wrapped in a deep blue robe. She appeared unarmed, perhaps even vulnerable to the untrained eye. But he knew her better than that. She was dangerous, yet all the more beguiling for it.

At his prolonged silence, she lifted a single brow and turned to a small table at the opposite side of the tent that bore a pitcher and a few silver goblets. The General opened the bag he’d carried for days now and placed a sealed scroll on the wide table in the center of the room on which a large map was unfurled.

“As you requested, Lord Tulius has been removed. His head decorates the gates to his city.”

She didn’t pause her calm movements, pouring two goblets before turning back to face him. “And?”

“The new Lord has sworn five hundred soldiers when we ride on Gerou next month.”

She neared, jasmine and steel surrounding him once more, but she did not offer the second goblet. “And?”

“And Ardaraka will also be joining with one hundred archers and sending tribute.”

Her mouth remained steady, but an approving light shone in her eyes as she held out the goblet to him. The wordless approval rested on his brow brighter than any crown. He took the goblet carefully, gloved fingers brushing hers for a moment. Never looking away from the other, they both sipped the wine. Spices blossomed on his palette, heady and strong.

“Your work is always exemplary, General,” she said, stepping around him. Her shoulder just brushed his as she passed, burning him through his armor. “But this is to be commended.” She rounded the table and took another thoughtful sip as she sat down in the chair at the head. “Such efforts should not go unrewarded. Tell me what prize you would accept, and it shall be granted to you.”

She was a woman of her word. Up to half her kingdom could be granted to him if he but asked for it. As it was–

“There is only one prize that I desire.”

Her eyes locked to his, gaze as scorching as the suns and twice as rich. Then she set her cup down and relaxed back in the chair, a smile finally playing on her lips.

“Come and claim it then.”

Wasting no precious time, the General shed his gloves and rounded the table to stand before his Queen, eyes boring into hers, smoldering hot enough to catch flame. She offered up her hand, which he took in his, smoothing a thumb over her battle-calloused fingers before pressing a kiss to the knuckles.

“I swear to guard my Queen from harm and, with either my life or my death, ensure her continued dominion,” he whispered, repeating part of the oath he’d taken so many years ago. The solemn vow was carved on his spirit, the ethos of his life from that day onward. He turned her hand over and kissed her palm, then her wrist, feeling her steady pulse on his mouth plates. “Until my Queen releases me, death takes me, or the world ends.”

When he looked back to her face, her lips were slightly opened, eyes wide and utterly enraptured. Deep satisfaction suffused through him at the sight. Glimpses of the woman behind the crown were rare, and he coveted them jealously. For as assuredly he would follow her into death, some naive part of him longed to share her life even more. The awed warmth of her gaze kindled something deep inside him, something precious and pure. Something to be thought of only in the most private of moments and not yet voiced. Perhaps never to be spoken, only shown.

He knelt before her, basking in her rapt attention. With great care, he reached for her ankle, palm sliding up the smooth skin of her calf before stopping at her knee, which he lifted and placed on his shoulder as he moved in closer–submerging himself in jasmine and steel. Pulling her robe open, he found her completely bare underneath save for an encrusted dagger that was wrapped in a holster about her thigh.

He’d given the dagger to her not long after he came into her service. The reminder of how close she kept it on her person still sent a low shudder down his spine. Never unarmed that was his Queen, he mused, subvocals starting to purr. He traced the leather strap first with his fingers, then his mouth plates before drifting upwards and pulling her closer.

This near, her clearest scent filled his lungs–rich as earth, complex and mouth-wateringly bitter. Her thighs resting on his shoulders and his hands on her hips, he stared up at her in both wonder and desire. Her usual stoic front was holding strong for the moment, but he could see something stirring beneath her surface. He held there, waiting for the final permission. She granted it in a silent nod.

Not looking away, he kissed her center, making her eyes flutter shut momentarily. But she quickly regained her composure. It was always a battle with her, a testing of wills–he wouldn’t have it any other way. Determined, he delved deeper, still holding her eyes for as long as he could. Her hand rested at the back of his head, fingers just brushing his most sensitive area as he found hers. The sinews in her neck clenched as he circled and lapped, pushing and teasing her till she yielded for him. It came as his tongue slipped inside her warmth. Her eyes shut, mouth dropped half-open, and her hand on his head clenched, nails biting at his skin. A half-strangled gasp met his ears, sweeter than symphonies, rousing his own desire with its call.

Now it wasn’t a battle, but a crusade. Or perhaps a gauntlet, a test of his mastery of her pleasure. He never wanted to just satisfy her, to just sate her. He wanted to ruin her. To make every other partner pale in comparison. None could eclipse her in his eyes. It felt an honest, if perhaps hopeless, endeavor to strive for the same honor from her.

He pulled away from her, earning a low whimper of protest from his Queen that kicked his subvocals rumbling even lower. But he didn’t move far. His thumb circled over her center, drawing her attention, till he nipped the sensitive inner skin of her thigh. Her hips bucked at change in sensation, muscles rippling under his palms. He apologized with a swipe of his tongue, though he knew it would leave a mark. A reminder of his presence just for her.

Her other hand gripped his shoulder, a burning beacon that she was close to her end. He could retreat now, suffer her temporary wrath, for another valiant run for glory. Some nights, she let him indulge himself, bringing her closer and closer to her edge without letting her fall over. But her hand on the back of his head pulled him back to her center. No, she was not to be toyed with tonight. So he gladly surrendered to her will. Not replacing his finger, he dipped his tongue back inside her.

It took only two coordinated strokes before she fell, shuddering and clenching and gasping. She pulled him so close, curling over him as if to blur the boundaries between his being and hers. Tension shattered through her core, her limbs, stacking to insurmountable heights. Till, like a candle flame, it vanished, leaving only boneless, radiating warmth in its absence.

His Queen dropped against the back of the chair, hands relaxing their grip on him but not moving away. Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to rewrite her composure. Though before she completely succeeded, a blissful smile spread across her lips. He wished he could save it somehow, tuck it away in a cedar box at the bottom of his armory, where it would be safe and cherished as long as he drew breath.

She swallowed and let out a low hum of contentment that settled in the back of his skull. “Commendable, General,” she said, her voice smoky as torch light. “As always.”

“It is my honor, your majesty.”

“Yes, it is.” The corners of her lips tugged in amusement but didn’t spread wide again.

His subvocals rolled with his unquenched thirst, perhaps she could feel them from where his palms slid down her hips. He pulled her silk robe back into place before retreating reluctantly, standing and stepping back from her throne. She offered her hand again, which he happily took and helped her stand.

“Such… valiant effort on behalf of my realm deserves more than one reward, don’t you agree?”

He tipped his head in deference, deep parts of him agreeing with her far more vehemently. “If you wish to honor me more, who am I to deny you?”

She stepped towards him, close but not touching. Jasmine and steel surrounded him again, sending his core muscles clenching. Her chin lifted, tilting her face as if she wished to kiss him. Like a comet, he was pulled helplessly into her orbit. But she did not meet him. She, instead, hovered a hair’s breadth apart. His control shuddered as he held there with his hands clasped behind his back, knuckles paling for the effort.

After several tense seconds, her gaze met his, curiosity and something like satisfaction in her eyes. “You would deny me nothing, would you?”

“Nothing,” he repeated in a fervent whisper. His plates were starting to itch from how close yet far she was. But he refused to move till she gave him leave.

She pulled away yet rewarded his restraint with the backs of her fingers stroking along his scarred mandible. Though he couldn’t help but lean into the touch, brushing a kiss to her knuckles as her hand dropped away. He was only mortal.

“Come.” She offered her hand and led him away from the table. There was a curtained doorway that divided the war room from her sleeping quarters of the tent. She pulled back the thick fabric and stepped inside, inviting him into her most private space.

The room was not overly large, nothing like her chambers back in her fortress. Her armor, spear, and shield were displayed proudly next to the entrance. There was a space for bathing and dressing. A smaller table for her own use tucked in the corner. But the room was dominated by the large bed in the center. Not four postered and curtained like in her ancient estate by the sea, a bedroll made for travel but still strewn with cushions and luxurious enough for royalty. The scent of her hovered in the room like incense. A few candles in the corners were the only source of light, casting soft shadows around the edges of her figure.

Once inside, she didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, her nimble fingers travelled up his arm, removing vambraces and pauldrons with practiced ease. She untied his cuirass from around his carapace, fingertips brushing against his sides, before setting it carefully aside with the other pieces. When strapped with his armor and weapons, he hardly noticed the weight of them anymore. But as she pulled off each piece, breath came easier to him, though he wasn’t sure if it was relief or anticipation that filled his lungs so readily. Every plate of steel gone felt like a skin removed, stripping away the mantle of General to leave behind just him for her.

She went to remove his greaves, moving to kneel before him, when he reflexively stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She shouldn’t– But her eyes snapped up to him, sharp and flinty.

Would you deny me this?

No, he would not. So he pulled his hand back, humbled by the rare view and trying to deny how the unique angle stirred up memories filled with desire.

She pulled off the last of his armor and then rose, her half-smile distracting him from her hand till it dragged up his completely spread plates over his pants. That made him flinch and suck in a sharp breath, sparks leapt onto the crumbling tower of his composure.

“Too much?” she asked in a low voice. His eyes opened to find her looking at him intensely, brows flickering just towards each other.

He shook his head. “Never.”

She repeated the action, but he was ready for her this time. The gentle pressure emanated out through his whole person, making his subvocals sputter and stop for a moment. He was absolutely weeping in his sheath, but she stopped before it became too much.

With just one hand at his waist, the sensation muted from his underclothes but knee-buckling all the same, she urged him to sit on the foot of her bed. He was closer to her face this way, giving him a chance to admire the sharp line of her jaw, how her eyes were inky black haloed with thin green. She was breathtaking on the field and away.

Breaking all contact with him, she edged into the space between his knees, commanding his complete attention without a word. Not letting him look away, she loosened the tie of her robe. It slipped off her shoulders and pooled on the ground, leaving her only in her dagger. He found an anchor in the silk sheets beneath him, talons gripping the fabric for dear life. Her eyes proclaimed proudly that she knew exactly what the sight of all of her was doing to him. His gaze greedily swept over her figure, like a bandit discovering a pirate’s hoard, taking in the exotic curves and admiring the few pale scars. The need to put his hands on her and pull her close scalded his palms. He longed to kiss every freckle that dotted her skin, to hear her gasp his name as he buried himself inside her. She let him admire for a few breathless moments, but twisted the dagger when she lifted her holstered leg to rest her foot on his knee.

“Would you help me, General?” she asked calmly, as if asking for him to bring her the weather reports.

He swallowed, hard. Then again. No, growling subvocals would not allow words she could understand now. So he instead simply obeyed, unwinding the leather strap before pulling it through the buckle. His hands only trembled slightly, but stilled as the steadying weight of the dagger dropped into his palm. He offered it to her, pride shoring him up as he persevered under her visual onslaught.

She took it from him and turned away, long hair tossing over her shoulder and brushing against his face for just a moment. “Would you want some Aephusian Ale?” she asked, sashaying away with a pronounced hip swing that he could not ignore. “I know how much you enjoy it.”

“Of course,” he rumbled, dropping his gaze away from her to gain his bearings more. A few deep breaths cleared his head enough for her return, proffering a dark glass bottle. His attention could not be afforded anywhere but on her as he took a sip, not quite paying attention till the taste registered.

Garrus blinked. “This… this is actually Aephusian Ale,” he said, looking down at the bottle in his hand. It tasted exactly like the drink in the book. Spirits, where had Shepard found this?

“Of course it is,” his Queen said in a low voice, pulling him back in as she stepped closer. “You think I don’t know my best General’s favorite drink?”

He smiled softly up at her. “I am humbled by your attentions,” the General replied.

She moved even closer, nearly touching him now. He could feel the warmth radiating lowly off her skin. It grew stronger as she leaned towards him, head angling once again for a kiss. And like before, she stopped a grain of sand away, though this time a strangled whine snuck up the back of his throat before he quickly cut it off.

A gloating look floated through her eyes. “Your orders are to retreat, General.”

Unsure precisely what she meant, he frowned slightly up at her. She waved her hand and it clicked. It wasn’t graceful, but he moved backwards across the bed, only stopping when the back of his carapace met the cushions already set up to support him. As if to make up for his lack of coordination, his Queen prowled towards him, a hungry look simmering in her eye. Feeling trapped in the very best way, he set aside the ale.

She crawled all the way up to straddle his lap, dropping herself the last inch and expelling a soft groan from his gut at the sudden contact. But it transformed in a low growl as she rocked her hips, rubbing her sodden center over his sheath. His swollen cock begged to be released, trapped by her and his pants, and her steady, eddying pressure was delicious torture. But she was nefarious and brutal, his Queen, and she reminded him of that as her arms wound around his shoulders, fingers trailing up his neck to the skin under his fringe. He could have borne the burden without complaint had she not also dipped her head and finally pressed that craved kiss not to his mouth but to his vulnerable throat.

That finally broke him.

“Please,” he bit out, head dropped back in utter submission. “Please, your majesty.”

She kissed his neck once, twice more, and then bit down. It wasn’t enough to leave a mark through his skin, but his whole body jerked, jostling her and halting her slow grinding. Without any rush, she lifted herself up off his lap to meet his eyes, a palm smoothing down his fringe.

“Yes, General? Is there something you desire?” she asked in that same calm voice.

“You.” His subvocals were shredded with clawing need. “Always you.”

Hands cradling his face, she tilted his head forward enough to press her brow to his in a turian kiss. The simple yet profound gesture blew right through simple carnal desire, landing square in the deep unspeakable truth at his very core. Eyes shut, he pressed up against her as fervently as the angle would allow, letting his subvocals sing with the words he didn’t dare to utter.

She pulled back for a moment, soothing fingers brushing along his mandibles, then leaned back in, lips so close to his mouth. But this time, she whispered, “Kiss me.”

And he did, surging forward to claim her mouth with his. After so much build-up and denial, it rapidly deepened to something needy and demanding. Technique and skill were completely abandoned in favor of pure sensation. He needed her tongue tangled with his, her breath in his lungs. Oh, though it was so blissfully wonderful to taste her again, it was not enough. Nothing less than all of her would suffice.

“Please, my Queen,” he rumbled, tracing his mandible along the smooth line of her jaw. “I need you. Please.”

She kissed him once more, rising up on her knees to break the pressure on his waist and tilt his head back as far as it would go. Her hand rested on his throat, fingertips tracing small circles on either side and pulling uncontrollable shudders from him with every small movement.

“I’m already yours. Take me,” she whispered with a slight smile.

She obviously had not been prepared for his attack as she let out a small cry when he flipped their positions, tossing her back on the bed with as much care as he could muster. It turned into a breathless chuckle as he pulled away just long enough to wrench his trousers off. A deep groan left him as he was finally freed from his sheath, relief sparkling down his spine and numbing the back of his skull.

“Can always count on you to be ready for battle,” she mused.

He had plans to remove his shirt too and possibly say something witty back. But all thoughts were driven from his head as he caught a glimpse of his Queen completely splayed on the bed, dark eyes taking in his figure, her hand sliding down her stomach with obvious intent. He caught it before it reached its destination, pressing another quick kiss to her pulse. She groaned softly at being interrupted.

“I would deny you nothing, your Majesty. But it is my honor to be the only one to please you this evening,” he purred, nipping a kiss to her collarbone.

“Then what are you waiting for?” She sounded annoyed, though there was a telling glimmer in her eyes that spoke otherwise. He lifted one of her legs into the crook of his elbow and leaned forward, just enjoying the low whimpers she made as he rocked through her heat.

“Absolutely nothing.” And he kissed her again as he finally joined with his Queen. Twin groans floated through the air of the tent as he immediately set a deep and thorough pace. Her clenching heat around him demanded his full attention, everything else but her disappeared from his mind. Her tongue tangled with his, and her fingers trailed down his fringe.

He kissed every inch of her skin that he could reach, running his tongue along her throat, nuzzling mandibles across her shoulders. She returned the favor with her own kisses up his neck, though his steady rhythm stuttered when she bit him again. Spirits, she knew him too well. Though he knew her just the same, and so he left his own nips along her collarbones, the base of her neck, anywhere that could be hidden by her armor. The evidence of their love was just for their knowledge.

Her low swears and strangled groans were the sweetest tune he’d ever heard. But he wanted the full symphony. An honest-to-the-gods whimper escaped her throat when he stilled and pulled back. Oh. He’d proudly wear that as a medal of honor on his breast if she could mint it.

“I’m not leaving,” he promised breathlessly. He lifted her hips and slid a cushion underneath, changing the angle of their meeting. “Still good?”

She clenched her inner muscles around him with a smirk.

“Fuck,” he groaned in answer to his own question.

“You have not yet been relieved of duty, Gen–” The end of her word changed into a deep moan as he rocked once, testing the new arrangement on his knees. Holding her open with his grip on her leg, he moved again, enjoying thoroughly watching the collision ripple through her body and hearing the echoes in her voice. Her hands stretched out for him but failed to reach their mark as he pressed the pad of his thumb to her clit, circling in the pattern he knew she liked best. She went fully lax, granting him full command over her pleasure.

“Look at me,” he pleaded, more subvocal than voice. But she obeyed. She demanded his continual gaze with hers, and neither looked away as he drove them steadily to their peak. Her acquiescence to his strategy started to crumble, however, as they drew close. A hand found purchase on his hip, pulling him closer, deeper, More. He eagerly surrendered what advantages distance allowed him in movement for the feeling of tucking his face against her neck.

Her cries abruptly spiked in pitch, and he just managed to catch her mouth with his for one last kiss before she reached bliss. Her body shuddering in his arms, and her slick heat clenching around him finished him off. Gratification shot down his spine, white hot and addictingly pure. He held tight to her, muscles locking as he convulsed once, twice, three times. Then every bit of tension in his body evaporated, all thought reducing to a rich blissfulness, thick enough to float away in.

A five-fingered hand rested on the back of his neck, stroking slowly up and down. Reflexes drunk-slow, he opened his eyes to find his Queen half-beneath him, looking nearly as relaxed as he felt. She caught his eye and a slow smile spread across her face, growing so fond it bubbled up into a low affectionate laugh. He pressed his brow to hers, a hand slipping into her hair, and laughed with her.

The air between them was saturated with the Unspoken. But it could barely be anymore blatantly stated than in his every small kiss upon her cheek. Every adjustment of limbs so they fit together even neater than before. Every slowing breath they shared as more one than two.

Her hand insinuated itself between his tunic and the small of his back, stroking his spine before tugging on the shirt.

“Remove this,” she murmured, eyes half open. “Your Queen demands it.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he replied lowly, a hand smoothing over her bare hip.

“Do you think I’m as fragile as that?”

He shook his head. “Not fragile… precious.”

That wide eyed, awed look returned to her face, so wholly honest it took his breath away for a moment. Then she moved, crawling over him and kissing him once before pulling him up to sitting. She removed his tunic and then wrapped him in a long hug. The steady presence of her skin on his was centering in a way he couldn’t quite describe. The world, the galaxy fell into balanced order every time.

He hummed as she kissed his neck, slowly, luxuriously. Desire stirring slightly with the delicate attentions. She made her way leisurely up the length, pressing a final kiss to the side of his head then whispering, “You are so precious to me.”

His breath caught in his chest, but she didn’t pull away. More kisses made their way down his mandible then meeting his mouth in gentle caresses. She cradled his head in her arms, a hand brushing down his fringe.

“I don’t know where I’d be without you.” The look in her eyes was so fervently honest, he couldn’t do anything but stare up at her. The lines between Shepard and his Queen blurring till he wasn’t sure which one continued speaking. “I owe you my life more times over than I can ever repay. I never want to know what life is like without you at my side.”

His hands slid up her spine to pull her down for another kiss, adamant and just shy of bruising. “You’ll never have to know,” he swore to her, brow pressed to hers. “Not while it’s in my power. You’ll never know.”

She nodded and kissed him again, her breath shaking for reasons unrelated to the need in his touch. Her hands roved his body, finger tips slipping between plates, palms over his waist, while her mouth stayed steady on his. But there was no teasing in her touch this time, just devotion so pure it humbled him to receive it.

“Let me show you,” she whispered before kissing him deeply. “Please.”

He nodded, and her kisses drifted down his neck, across his cowl and down his carapace. Every muscle in his body clenched as he finally realized her intention. She stopped and looked up at him, but he was already nodding when her gaze met his. It turned warm and fond, and she settled on her stomach between his legs, pressing a chaste kiss to his hip.

He hadn’t reemerged from his sheath yet, though his plates were still fully relaxed. However, as she started drawing slow designs with her fingertips across his waist, he could already feel the efficacy in her small gestures. The sight of her was transfixing, hypnotic. Every puff of warm breath across his most sensitive skin electrified him.

As she kissed him, an unstoppable moan dropped from his mouth. She smiled up at him and kept at her work, persistent and skilled. Every time after, he swore to himself that he’d exaggerated in his memory how good her mouth felt on him. And every time, she proved him wrong. It took no time at all till he slid out and directly into her waiting mouth. It was so perfect, it seared.

“Shepard,” he moaned, talons gripping the bed underneath him for dear life. She pulled back, giving him a break from the onslaught.

“Too much?” she asked. He looked down and nearly moaned again, shuddering instead. A slight blush had formed over her cheeks, and her hand was resting loosely at his base.

“You have ruined me… for anyone but you… my Queen,” he said in reply.

She smirked. “Good.” You’re mine. And she approached again less directly, slight kisses, gentle passes with her tongue. He willfully surrendered to her, focusing on her touch, her presence.

It always felt an honor to receive such… attention from one such as her. But right now, it felt more a gesture of trust. She could trust him to give her only what she desired. And whole-heartedly, he felt the very same. Her moaning while his length buried as deep as she could take him nearly brought him to his metaphorical knees. He’d follow her anywhere, even to his own blissful end, which she seemed very determined to deliver him to. But perhaps–

He rested a hand on her shoulder, whining at both the sight and feel of her soft mouth sliding up his length. It made his thoughts scatter like sand under a gale wind.

“Together,” he managed, swallowing hard to try and control his roiling subvocals. “I want… together. Please?”

She smiled and kissed his tip, sending one last jolt through his system, before retreating. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He had to literally shake sense back into his head before he could move from where she’d left him. “Come here,” he said, shifting up to his knees and stumbling forward for the effort.

“You alright?” Her voice bobbed in amusement.

“Like I said, you ruined me.” He took her hand and pulled her close, kissing her once, then again for good measure. Then he moved behind her, pulling her back to his front.

“Oh,” she said slowly as he rocked between her thighs. His subvocals sang in agreement. She smelled so good–salt and jasmine and them. She was so warm already. The thought that pleasuring him ignited her in the best way burned up the last of his patience.

He pulled her hair aside and nibbled a kiss to her neck. “I want you,” he breathed against her ear.

“Please,” she whispered back. She guided him inside her, both of them letting out a long slow breath at their joining. His hands roved her body, smoothing across hips and circling her breasts, as he encouraged her to sit back into his lap. They weren’t joined as deeply as before, but this angle always brushed against her most sensitive places with the slightest of movement. An advantage he exploited to immediate benefits.

Rocking together felt more natural than breathing. Her hands intertwined with his, pressing one down between her legs and the other to her breast. He gave her the pressure she desired gladly and continued whispering a low growl in her ear.

“You don’t understand how thoroughly you have ruined me for anyone that isn’t you. I couldn’t want my own kind anymore even if I tried.”

She answered with a wordless cry, her spine undulating in a way that should have been physically impossible and was so alluringly easy for her. Still he kept up the rhythm, subvocals purring at how perfect she felt against him, around him.

“How could anyone measure up after I’ve had you? My Queen… my Commander.”

She shuddered and moaned, a hand reaching back to grip his neck. “Your voice–Gar–General–”

“That’s it, my Queen. Focus on me and let go.” He let loose a subvocal rumble loud enough that she had to hear it. Her answering cry echoed around the tent.

They hadn’t been particularly quiet up to this point, and their involvement was a poorly kept secret. Still, the thought of any guard just outside hearing her right now, knowing what she sounded like in rapture. He caught her mouth with his, swallowing her cry and turning it to whimpers.

“No one but me gets to hear you like this tonight.”

“Yes, Garrus.”

The sound of his real name pleaded so desperately shot straight to his core, immediately imploding. He pressed his brow to hers and circled his fingers on her clit, making her kiss him again to moan in response.

“Garrus–General. General, please. I–”

“I’m here. I’ll always be right here,” he vowed solemnly, meaning it as truly as the Unspoken.

She sobbed, the hand on his neck sliding up to scrape dull nails across the skin under his fringe. He throbbed inside her, his own release having snuck up on him in his focus on her.

“With me?” she asked, her voice tight and desperate.

“Always.”

And with a kiss they fell over the edge together.

It was several minutes later that Garrus opened his eyes to a world made entirely of red hair. The two of them had simply slipped sideways on the bed, still intertwined with each other. Shepard before him was breathing steadily, slowly.

He pressed a kiss to the back of her head. “You alright?”

She nodded. “I need a quick break though,” she said, her words slurring slightly.

“Me too.” He pulled away enough to turn her onto her back and stretched out next to her. For a few minutes, he just admired her face, fingers combing through her hair till it laid flat on the bed.

“How did you make it so much longer?” he asked quietly.

She reached up into her hair and something snapped, then a section of the long hair came out.

“That’s… not yours?” he asked, more than a little bewildered.

“Well, it’s mine in that I own it. But I didn’t grow this hair, no.” She repeated the process a few more times, removing all the pieces from her scalp till just her usual shoulder length hair remained.

“That’s… disturbing.”

“I wanted to be authentic,” she replied with a shrug. “You liked it till you knew.”

He grunted, not wanting to agree, and reached for his long-abandoned bottle. “Speaking of authentic, how did you find actual Aephusian Ale in the middle of a war?”

She turned to her stomach and grinned. “You can find many things when you’re as powerful a queen as I am.”

He laughed and took a sip, savoring the unique flavors of the brew. “Do you want your mead? It’s back on the desk.”

“Yeah, I’ll get it.” She rolled away and hopped up the stairs to her office. He couldn’t help but admire how her curves were highlighted in the low glow from the fishtank and the one candle they’d dared on the coffee table. A slow smile spread across her face when she noticed him staring on her return.

“See something you like?” she purred, kneeling down next to him.

He wrapped an arm around her waist. “I see many things I like.”

She chuckled and sipped her drink, a hand idly stroking along his fringe. A turian could die happy like this, he thought, drinking his ale.

“Anything I can do different?” she asked after a minute. “Should the Queen be more aloof?”

He looked up at her and shook his head. “You’re perfect.”

Her slow smile returned. “You make a damn fine General, Vakarian.”

He chuckled. “Anything for my Queen.” Her smile changed to something more coy, nearly shy. Then he realized– “You like being my Queen, don’t you?”

A pink tint spread across the tops of her cheeks as she refused to look at him, taking another long sip instead. He set his ale down on the floor and sat up to nuzzle a kiss to her neck.

“It’s not so strange, is it?” She let him take her cup away as she continued speaking. “To like having the man you love promise devotion and loyalty… even if it’s just a story?”

He held her hands in his and pressed his forehead to hers, subvocals humming the Unspoken once more. “It’s not all a story,” he whispered. Her eyes opened to meet his. “You know that already, right?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Good.” Not looking away, he pushed her back on the bed and laid down at her side. They found the fit between themselves, arms wrapped around each other. He rested his brow against hers again, eyes shut. “I swear to guard my Commander from harm… and, with either my life or my death, ensure the success of her mission,” he promised in a low voice.

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

When he opened his eyes, they were back in the tent. Jasmine and tempered steel drifted on the soft desert wind. But it was Shepard–his Shepard–who laid in the bed with him. All the tragedies and horrors of their real lives left behind, even if only for a few minutes. Her warm regard shone out through her eyes, not held back but freely offered.

They pulled closer still. Her arms slipped up around his neck, and he lifted her leg over his waist. He kissed her like that for a long while, brushing mandibles over her cheeks to match her movements best he could. No words spoken, but none needed. Just the tempo of her breath told him everything he needed to know.

Slowly yet steadily, they came together. He held her eyes as long as he could, watching every slight expression in her eyes. They were so different, the two of them. And yet he never felt more understood, more Known, than he did when he was with her. She pressed his brow to hers, mouth moving with unspoken words that he felt deeper than his bones. They were unhurried, confident in their destination yet nearly satisfied to never arrive. Following the other in a dance they knew and loved so well at this point. A dance that Garrus quietly hoped would continue for the rest of their long, long lives till they could be buried in each other’s gaze.

Shepard pulled closer still at the end, tucking her face against his neck and tensing before a long shudder ran through her core. A quiet echo of response answered from his center, filling any remaining air between them with a gentle warmth.

They were both quiet for several minutes, still wrapped completely around the other. If he had just a touch less self-control, Garrus might have been content to drift off to sleep just like that. But the evening, while thoroughly enjoyable, had made a bit of a mess.

“We should clean up,” he said quietly, without moving.

“Yes,” came the eventual reply from the area below his chin.

“...We have to move to do that.”

“You move. I’m too fucked to move.”

That made him chuckle and he pulled away, rolling up to standing next to the bed. Shepard groaned and made a weak attempt to pull him back, hand flopping against the bed.

“Well if you can’t walk, let me carry you then, your magnificence, to the royal baths.”

She laughed as he lifted her from the bed and whisked her off to the bathroom. They both grunted as the bright light flipped on when they entered. But the steaming water from the shower soon soothed any sting.

Shepard eventually got down, but still stayed within his arms, very content to let him wash her hair and rub sore muscles. He felt much the same as she returned the favor, cleaning him with a dedicated care that quieted his mind.

“Is there anything like this?” she mused as she shut the water off.

Garrus reached for a towel. “Hm?”

“In the book. Do the General and Queen do anything like this?”

“Oh.” He wrapped the towel around her shoulders as he thought. “There is a scene in a hot spring that’s pretty famous.”

She smiled and wrung out her hair. “Mm. I like hot springs.”

“Me too.”

They fell into the quiet routine of sleep, the late hour finally catching up to both of them. Shepard didn’t speak again till she eased into the bed next to him, under freshly changed sheets.

“So what happens?” she asked as he looped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “In the book, how does it end?”

He stared at her for a long moment and then answered honestly, grimly. “She sacrifices herself for the good of her people. And though he carries on, he never loves another. How could he?”

Her warm expression dimmed. “That’s… disappointing.”

“That’s turian romance.”

She shook her head and adjusted her fit in his arms, tucking an ankle into his spur. “Let’s change it. She… goes to sacrifice herself for the good of the people. But… he gets there in the nick of time, like always. And together… they win. Go on to have many more adventures and found the new turian empire.”

He smiled and threaded a hand into her hair, eyes drifting shut. “Much better.”

taglist: @me-fish ; @seleenermparis-blog ; @kelenloth ; @ferociousqueak

[seriouslyhooked]

The Bast Bad Idea (Part 2)

Three-part CS AU where Emma and Killian are doctors working at the same hospital (world without pandemic). They’ve yet to meet, but Emma has definitely seen the sexy Dr. Jones in her travels at Mist Haven Medical. It’s generally a bad idea to get involved with a colleague, but a little fantasizing never hurt… right? Inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea’ by Ariana Grande and a TV couple who set the bar for true love stories.

Part One Here. Story available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hello everyone! First and foremost, I want to start with a huge thank you to all of you who have reached out about this story. The response was so far beyond what I was expecting, but I am thrilled to know that all of you enjoy a CS Doctor AU as much as I do. As someone who grew up watching Grey’s Anatomy, it’s essentially engrained in my DNA to love a medical romance, and this story is one I have wanted to write for a long time. I’ve had more than a month away from writing thanks to my busy schedule, but finally my muse came to play and add a bit of fluff to this sweet short story. Chapter two picks up with a critical question – what was Dr. Jones going to propose to Dr. Swan…? Without further ado, here is our answer. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…”

His eyes strayed down to her lips, and Emma wet them absentmindedly. She heard a low growl, and realized it was coming from Killian. She shifted in her seat, turned on in a way she had never been before. Instinctively she moved closer, sensing the sinfully sweet current between them, like lightning just before it cracked across a summer sky. The instant attraction was breathtaking. It felt almost out of time and space.

“We could…” she continued, nudging him along and hoping he would elaborate. She wanted so badly for him to say aloud what she herself was wishing for.

Yet where Emma expected words, she was instead met with action, tantalizing and surprising, but inspiring something in her she never expected. Before she knew it, Emma was in Killian’s arms, aching for this moment, kissing him and knowing she was positively senseless. All that existed was this kiss, this touch. It was electrifying and invigorating, a blaze rushing through her blood stream that emboldened a part of her she’d always held back. Desire. That was what this was, and it was luscious and intoxicating.

Following his lead, Emma broke away from the kiss only to gasp for air as he crowded her body against the wall. The hardness of the cement blocks behind her, coupled with the heat and definition of Dr. Killian Jones was too much to handle. She arched into him, striving for contact, and reveling in the feel of his skin on hers. The only problem was these damn clothes between them. Never in her life had she been irritated at this doctor’s coat she’d worked so hard to earn. For years she studied and poured everything she was into medicine, all for the authority this coat portrayed, but she practically purred when Killian stripped hers off and tossed it to the ground. Pushing his off of his body in return made her mind race. The muscles of his chest and arms were driving her to distraction. Then they flexed, and she swallowed harshly, earning a deep, decadent chuckle from this man who drove her crazy.

“See something you like, Swan?”

God that cockiness. They’d never had any kind of real conversation before now, but the way he smiled spoke volumes. His air and his persona were dripping in assuredness. Emma used to think that she hated so much confidence, but when it came to Killian, she craved it something fierce. It was somewhat infuriating, the way his eyes shone with mischief and conceit, but it was also hotter than anything she’d ever known. Still, part of her would rather die than admit that aloud. She had her pride, no matter how wrapped up in this moment she may be.

“It’s hard to say,” she replied, her voice sounding out with a shredded silkiness that she’d never heard before. “I haven’t seen much of anything yet.”

“My apologies, love. Allow me to rectify the situation.”

Emma watched as this ridiculously attractive man purposefully teased her. With deft fingers he reached for the base of his scrub top, inching the material higher up his body. The trail of dark hair he revealed was evocative, but it held no candle the shape and tone of those abs underneath. Sweet Jesus, were those real? Emma bit back a groan at the sight, her lip pressed tight between her teeth. It took everything in her to keep her hands from reaching for him. She lay them flat on the wall behind her at her sides instead, but they balled into fists unconsciously as Killian eventually tossed the shirt away.

His black hair was mussed now, both from removing the scrubs with that always-present swagger, and from her fingers having run through it during their never-ending kisses. His eyes were dark navy blue, but still they shone with hunger and delight. His grin was a mix of charming and predatory, but instead of inciting a fight or flight response, Emma only wanted to surrender. This was a man who knew he was in complete control. He had hooked her, totally and beyond any shadow of doubt, and all she wanted was for him to have his way with her.

The curses he whispered while helping her shed her own scrubs were like prayers on high, a sweet song to her ears that only added to his allure. Killian’s eyes never strayed from her, but his reactions were so open and transparent. He hid nothing, allowing her a glimpse to the world inside, and it caused the power between them to shift. If Emma was being hunted, then she was also hunting in return, and Killian seemed ready to be caught.

“Emma, I -,”

His voice faded out, and she struggled to hear him. Instead, there was a blaring alarm. Was this a fire drill? Why had the light in the room gone hazy? Still, Emma heard herself whisper his name.

“Killian?”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The screech of the sharp, incessant chiming by her ears wrenched Emma’s eyes open, and immediately she groaned in disappointment. All of that – every exquisite moment – was a dream. Ugh, of course it was! Because this was her life now: fantasizing about a hot trauma surgeon ceaselessly and wishing that her memories of him were more than mere imagination.  

“Damn it,” she muttered aloud, covering her eyes with her hand in frustration. With her vision blocked, Emma was more aware of the feeling that her body was wrapped up in her sheets. She’d obviously been tossing and turning through the night, restless in ways she rarely was before seeing Doctor Jones. These freaking dreams just felt so real, and they’d only gotten worse since officially meeting him.

That was three days ago now, but things had been chaotic in the meantime. The level four trauma that came in when they’d been formally introduced totally swamped the ER. Emma was called down for consult on multiple patients, needing to give life and death assessments and treatment plans for half a dozen people. While down there, Emma had the chance to see David and Killian in action. She was struck, even in the grips of adrenaline, by their cohesion and capability. They were cool and collected, battling odds that were dire to say the least, but they prevailed. Emma had worked for years to hone her craft, to heighten her skills, and to meet the moments of medicine that her work provided. But the energy in the ER had shifted, and she felt her own abilities elevated by the camaraderie and collectiveness of everyone in the hospital.

That shared experience only lasted a short while, for after initial inspections and emergency consults, Emma was quickly rerouted to the surgical wing. For 16 hours straight she worked to save the lives of four people, and through something that felt like magic, or maybe divine intervention, she was successful each and every time. That good fortune held, not only for her, but for all of her colleagues as well. The hospital had managed something next to impossible – they had saved every victim of the horrible accident, but the work had been backbreaking. When she’d finally scrubbed out of her last procedure, Emma admitted defeat, heading home and sleeping for twelve straight hours.

Her next shift was markedly slower, and Emma had the chance to see the progress of her post-op patients, and to connect with the others in her unit. It was critically important that the doctors, nurses, admins, tech teams, and other staff were all feeling strong and secure. Patients needed everyone working as a collective whole, and Emma took it upon herself to monitor that. It was unusual for a Doctor, especially one who wasn’t overseeing daily operations, but it mattered to Emma. Saving lives took so much more than her medical degree and steady hands. She needed each and every person in the cardiac wing to be successful, and she valued every one of them for what they brought to the team.

Unfortunately, while Emma’s day was slower and steadier, there was also a favorite element now lacking. She wasn’t too proud to admit that she’d willingly joined Ruby on the daily trip to the coffee cart. Actually, she’d been the one to page Ruby this time, earning more than a bit of teasing from her best friend, but Killian and David never showed. Only later, when Emma was at the tail end of her workday and helping with a consult in the ER, did she learn why.

“He was here for sixty-eight straight hours,” David said bluntly, after having confirmed his diagnosis for a patient presenting with a blood circulation issue.

“I’m sorry?” Emma asked, confused for a moment at David’s turn of topic.

“Killian,” David said, prompting Emma’s face to heat. Here she was, hoping it wasn’t totally obvious that she was looking for a man she hardly knew beyond imaginings, but David had seen through her in a matter of moments.

“Oh, um – that’s, well that’s… crazy. Sixty-eight hours?” That beat even her record, and she’d been called a workaholic on more than one occasion.

“Mhmm. We were on the end of a twelve-hour shift when the call came in and he stayed, until every last patient in the trauma department was seen and attended to. I left for eight hours and was dead to the world the entire time. Still felt laggy when coming back. Meanwhile, he caught maybe four hours sleep total interspersed between rounds, crashing in on call rooms. You’d never know though. He was totally unfazed. Brilliant as ever. It was like being back in the field again.”

“Seriously?” Emma asked, amazed at that. She was no stranger to long shifts, but to work that hard for that long was a herculean feat. Somehow, though, she wasn’t surprised to hear Killian had pulled it off.

“Yup. I had to force him to go back to his hotel. Actually, Regina had to. I tried, but until the Chief said something, he wouldn’t budge. She had to spew all sorts of protocol and legal jargon at him to get him to go. Even then, I could tell he was debating whether to stay or not.”

“He has a real connection with his patients,” Emma commented, vocalizing a fact she’d ascertained by watching him in action. Killian cared deeply, and while his main job may be all about stemming the flow of crisis, and bouncing around from one case to the next just to keep people holding on, he kept track of all those he helped, and invested in each patient no matter what.

“Maybe. I think it had more to do with the fact that it was only eight am and you wouldn’t be at the coffee stand yet.”

Before Emma could respond, David was paged for something else. He’d left her with a polite goodbye, but also a knowing smile. Another time, Emma might have tried to fake that she wasn’t interested or deny that there was something between her and Killian, but instead she was too busy fixating on what she’d just heard. Emma carried David’s assessment around with her for the rest of the day, well after leaving the hospital and heading home. She spent the night wondering if what David said was true. Was Killian as interested in her as she was in him?

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…”

“We could what?” she whispered, getting out of her car, heading inside to her next shift. “What was he going to ask me?”

“Did you say something, Emma?”

Emma jumped at the unexpected question, senses on high alert as she stood before the elevator in the parking garage. When she found Mary Margaret only a few feet from her, and clearly the orator of the previous question, Emma relaxed slightly. She tried her best not to show her embarrassment, but it was difficult. Now she was talking to herself? Jeez, she was truly losing it at this point.

“Oh, uh, nothing. How are you today?” she asked her friend. Mary Margaret smiled widely. Her excitement was palpable, filling up the elevator car as the two of them stepped inside.

“I’m great! Just eager to get to work.”

“Any interesting cases on the schedule?”

“Oh, uh, sure, there’s a few, I guess. Well really most of my day is going to be in consult with the Chief’s office.”

“Wait a second, you have to spend a prolonged period of time with the Evil Queen and you are smiling? Who are you and what have you done with Mary Margaret?” Her friend now looked flustered, clearly trying to grasp at an explanation and then it dawned on Emma. “This is about David isn’t it?”

“David?” Mary Margaret asked, her pitch higher than it had been just moments ago. Emma laughed at her friend’s terrible play acting. Trying to pretend that this wasn’t about David Nolan was a lost cause. Eventually Mary Margaret realized that, and she sighed, releasing the tension in her shoulders as she exhaled. “Okay, yes, I am seeing Dr. Nolan today.”

“Let me guess, he’s also going to be at the admin meetings.”

“They’re about coordinating long term therapies better with our emergency protocols and treatments. So yes, the head of the ER is likely to make an appearance.”

“I see,” Emma said, biting back a smirk so as not to make Mary Margaret too uncomfortable. In the end though her curiosity won out, and she had to ask. “So, any movement there?”

“Movement?”

“Has he asked you out yet?”

“Not exactly.” Emma waited for her friend to explain herself. Mary Margaret held off for a few seconds before blurting out the truth. “I actually asked him.”

“Really?” Emma was shocked. Not because she thought any less of Mary Margaret. In fact, quite the opposite. She was proud of Mary Margaret for going for what she wanted. She just had never ever seen Mary Margaret step outside of a comfort zone like that, and certainly not with a hospital colleague. “Good for you. And he obviously said yes.”

“Why is it obvious?” Emma rolled her eyes, but in a teasing way.

“Come on, you know you two were making heart eyes at each other the other day. There was a definite spark. We all saw it.”

“I’m honestly surprised you noticed since you had your own, what did you just call them? ‘Heart eyes’? Well, you definitely had heart eyes for a certain trauma surgeon.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to blush, and what perfect timing, because the elevator doors had just opened to the lobby. They exited the quiet of the elevator to a hustle and bustle found only at a top tier hospital. It felt like a swarm of people, buzzing every which way, on their own individual paths.

“David and I going to dinner tomorrow,” Mary Margaret said quietly, looking around and finding no eavesdropping colleagues. When the coast was clear, she smiled, looking back at Emma with excitement all over her face. “That’s all I know though. I may have asked him out, but he made it very clear he had plans for how our first date was going to be.”

“I have a good feeling about this guy,” Emma said, referring to David. She had known Mary Margaret for a long time, and she knew how much her friend wished for a real and solid love in her life. Few people desired and deserved that kind of connection like Mary Margaret, and for Emma, there was a real satisfaction in seeing her friend’s instant connection with a stand-up man. Based on past experience, there weren’t too many of those to go around.

“Which one?” Mary Margaret asked. Emma stammered something non-committal out, causing her friend to laugh once more. “And that right there is all the answer I need. See you later, Emma. Oh, and when you see Killian again, just go for it. Believe me, it’s so much better than waiting and wondering.”

With that, Mary Margaret headed towards the wing of the hospital where the Chief and her admins worked. At the same time, Emma turned her attention to the cardiac unit.  She had a ways to go to get there, but while still in the main entrance of the hospital she was stopped short by a gruff, and somewhat uncertain voice.

“Excuse me, Doctor Swan?”

“Yes?” Emma replied, looking to the young man who approached her. Taking in his features, she realized she knew him peripherally. He was one of the new interns cycling through the hospital this year, but he hadn’t worked in the cardio wing or in a surgical capacity. Taking in his lanyard, which bore his ID card over plain clothes, she saw he was an ER intern. Interesting. “Can I help you?”

“This is for you.” The young man offered her a paper box. Emma accepted, thoroughly confused before the intern elaborated. “Curtesy of Doctor Jones.”

“Oh,” Emma said, suddenly incredibly interested. Unable to resist, she opened the box. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but what she found made her smile widely. “These are flowers. Paper flowers.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m not entirely sure of the significance, but Doctor Jones told me there is a note inside as well. He wanted me to be sure to mention that.”

Emma was more than excited to read what this astonishing man would write to her, but something the intern said reminded her of the awkwardness of this situation. Had Killian used his authority over the interns to have this delivered? It wasn’t a crazy assumption. Many of the residents and attendings here saw interns as the low rungs on the ladder. They were meant to be learning and training, but often they were sent on coffee runs and foolish errands. Emma never believed in that though. She found it unkind and unnecessary.

“To be honest, it was hard to convince Doctor Jones to let me bring these,” the intern said, perplexing Emma further while eerily reading her mind. “I had to offer about a half dozen times. My shift was ending, you see, and I’ve been looking for a way to thank Doctor Jones since he got here. You know he created extra hours in the ER skills lab? He’s working with first years too. We get very little access usually, because the third years are prepping for exams and stuff, but he convinced Doctor Nolan to extend the hours. He’s even hosting classes himself. Cool right?”

“Very cool,” Emma said with a nod, and another smile. She breathed out a sigh of relief, genuinely happy to realize this man she’d been thinking of was good to others. It also made accepting this thoughtful gift so much easier.

From there, Caleb said goodbye, heading out for whatever interns did with down time these days. Oh, who was she kidding? Sleeping. That’s what she’d done, and no doubt that was what all interns still wanted most of all. Emma though, felt more awake now than she had in a long while. She found a quiet corner in one of the corridors leading to the cardio unit and took a seat, opening the box away from prying eyes.

Inside the box there were six different types of what looked like origami flowers. They were beautiful and delicate, and she wondered where he could have bought them. Only when she opened the note did she realize the truth.

Emma,

As you know, I’ve been away for quite a while, out in the field in a completely different world. In the desert there’s not really that much to do, except survive and keep as many of your people as well as you can. The downtime is long and hot and quiet. I picked up these tricks from a fellow soldier. It kept my hands at the ready and my mind clear, and there’s an honest beauty in them that reminds me of you. 

Truth be told, there’s a flower for each time I’ve tried to catch you at the coffee cart since our meeting. Clearly my missions have been unsuccessful, so this calls for a change in tactics…

Emma smiled at the thoughtfulness and felt the pull of butterflies low in her chest.  He thought she was beautiful, and he said it without fear. Had a man ever said so much? Had it ever mattered? Certainly not like it did now. Reading on, Emma laughed at the lightheartedness of the note and the bit of cheeky humor that accompanied it. His easygoing candor and transparency enchanted her, drawing her in even more than she already was. Then she memorized the time and place he suggested that they meet at the bottom of the page, knowing nothing and no one was going to keep her from this meeting.

Only after reading through his handwritten thoughts three or four times did she realize an added layer of perfection: these flowers weren’t just handmade and crafted with intention. They were also safe for her to take with her to her ward of the hospital. Being in and out of the ICU and cardiac units, Emma couldn’t bring real flowers into her offices without putting some patients at risk, but she could have these. From within the box she selected a bright yellow blossom, beautiful and intricate and folded to perfection. Wordlessly she tucked it away in her pocket. The others were deposited for safe keeping in her office as soon as she arrived back in the East Wing, and displayed on her windowsill, brightening the space.

The hours between the start of her shift and the time she was meant to meet Killian passed by slowly. Her rounds usually distracted her, but not today. While she still gave all due attention to her patients, Emma had that sense in the back of her mind that this afternoon would bring so much more to the forefront. The promise of seeing him again kept her heart pattering faster than it should be, and by the time the clock was minutes from their meeting, she was positively bursting with anticipation.

“Okay, usually I would give you a hard time and pretend to tag along, but even I can’t mess with a smile like that.” Ruby’s words snapped Emma’s focus back to the hallway where she was standing, pretending to read a chart. As she looked to her friend, however, she would never be able to recall what was on the screen in front of her. Ruby grinned when their eyes met. “He gave you the flowers, didn’t he?”

“You knew?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded.

“Yup. Ran into him at the cart a couple of times. He was really starting to piss off the kiosk guy with all his loitering. Had to give him a hundred dollars just to shut him up.”

“He didn’t!”

“No, I wouldn’t let him. I told Boris to shut it unless he wanted a hospital wide nurses strike. Guy knows better than to cross me. He just acts tough for clout.” Emma laughed, knowing her friend truly ran this place in most ways. But then the apprehension of the moment caught up to her again, and Emma’s brow furrowed in worry. “Oh no you don’t. No doubting this, Ems. I’ve vetted this guy. Run all the background, checked all the sources. He’s a good one, a one in a million, needle in a haystack, diamond in the rough kind of man. And, to top it all off, he’s crazy about you.”

“You think?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded.

“I know, but that’s all I’m saying. Let Killian speak for himself, okay? And, even though it’s hard, try and trust this.”

“I think I already do,” Emma whispered. “Trust him, I mean. But that’s crazy, right?”

“Love tends to be that way.”

“Ruby.”

“Emma,” her friend parroted, taking her hand and squeezing gently. “Just go for it. Go for it and see for yourself.”

With a nod, and the validation that she needed to hear from a trusted friend, Emma headed off. It felt natural and expected to make her way towards the center of the hospital once more. This time though, she passed the coffee cart, with only a fleeting glance. Killian wasn’t meeting her there today. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure where they were meeting. She followed the directions he’d given her, up a few more flights of stairs and through the wing with pediatric patients and newborns. She had been here many times before, for consults and comfort. It was a draw here in the hospital – the cuteness of babies just starting their journeys in the new world. Emma looked at them today, noticing the vibrancy inside the nursery, but didn’t linger. Instead, she followed the last of the route that Killian had given her and ended up somewhere she’d never been before. A place that must have just finished being renovated.

“Wow,” Emma whispered, walking into the sunlight on the open terrace.

With the glass surroundings and the plant life everywhere, this place was beautiful. There were pergolas and hanging vines, topiaries and flowering plants, daffodils and tulips, all breathing in the spring. It felt like a park, floating in the air, with the sounds of the city barely audible below. Emma could imagine the kids and the families who would come here someday. She hoped it would be a space for them to find some peace and happiness while staying in this unfamiliar and often stressful place. Hospitals were rarely any fun for patients, necessary as they may be, but this space was beautiful enough to distract from that.

“You made it, love.” The deep rumble of that familiar voice sent a shiver through Emma’s whole body. She cast a glance over her shoulder, finding Killian, leaning against the stone façade of the building behind them. In his hands were two coffees, and as he moved towards her, he offered her one with a boyish smile. “This is for you. Didn’t want you missing a routine caffeine fix for my sake.”

“Thank you,” Emma said automatically, feeling his fingers brush across hers, sending a zing of awareness through her. Her eyes flashed up to his, and she knew he felt it too. Suddenly she had no want or need for this coffee. She cleared her throat slightly before continuing on. “Where exactly are we? And how, might I ask, does the new guy know about it before I do?”

“It’s the Hubbard Family Wellness Gardens, gifted by one of the hospital’s most loyal benefactors” he said, full of knowledge. Emma was shocked that he actually knew what this place would be but then he smiled, gesturing to the plaque bearing that information. She bit back a laugh. “And as for how I found it, that’s easy. I never leave well enough alone, and I’m curious by nature. I’ve been nearly everywhere in the hospital now, but this place seemed the best for what comes next.”

“What comes next?” Emma asked, her voice hitching up as she repeated the words.

“Aye,” Killian murmured, his tone dipping sensually low. She swallowed harshly as he entered into her space, and he tracked the motion. She felt the heat of his closeness, and caught his scent in the air, clean, and male, and with a hint of spice.

“I’m afraid I didn’t think this through,” he said, close enough to kiss her. God, how she wished he would kiss her. Emma vocalized her first thought.

“Really? I did. Like a lot.”

His smirk told her she’d said that aloud even though she never meant to, but before she could react, he took hold of her cup once more.

“I meant these,” he gestured to the coffee in her hand. Oh, right. “May I, love?”

Emma nodded, and shakily let go of the cup she forgot she was holding. With deft hands, Killian  placed their drinks back on a table beside them with far more poise than she could muster at the moment. When that was done, he stepped towards her again, looking at her with a glint in his blue eyes that made her heart skip. His hands came to her body, one to her hip, the other to cup her cheek. The rightness washed over her, and so did the realization that none of her dreams could actually prepare her for real intimacy with Killian Jones.

“Last time we spoke I intended to ask you something. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from wanting this so badly. Without thinking, she wet her lips, and he caught the action, letting out a groan that mixed pain with passion and pleasure. Then he cursed, a totally British ‘bloody hell’ falling past his lips before dipping his mouth to hers and giving them both a taste of temptation.

The kiss was… beyond incredible, but Emma was so deep in it she had no ability to comprehend anything at all. She was consumed with the moment, arching against Killian, feeling the silky strands of his dark hair and the scruff of his beard. His kiss was assured and passionate, dominant and indulgent all at once. She succumbed to the sensations, and let the rightness surge within her, not caring at all that they were outside or at work or that they’d just met. Instinct took over, and her gut, which Emma had always trusted, was telling her that this man was even more than she imagined, and someone she should choose to let in.

Pulling back from the kiss, Emma and Killian stayed close, and Emma took stock of all the places they were touching. His hold on her was firm but caring, like she was precious, and he wouldn’t let her slip away. In his eyes she saw so much emotion, and again she was struck by his transparency and trust. He wasn’t shying away from her or the moment. He was in the depths of desire with her, and their kiss, that perfect, sexy as all hell kiss, had left him tongue tied. The quiet wasn’t awkward, but assuring, and Emma felt secure here, safe even, while also being filled with more unknown wonder than she’d ever been before. Like someone at the start of a glorious adventure, she took a next step born of passion and hope.

“I’m off at six tonight… so, you want to pick me up at seven thirty?” she asked, referencing a date he hadn’t actually asked her out on. She feigned ignorance even though she could read him like a book. “Unless you were going to ask me something else…”

His hold on her tightened, and he shook his head immediately. She was right. He wanted a date – and she saw no reason to wait when she wanted one just as badly. She grinned at him, loving how the tables had turned. This time he swallowed harshly, and she was oh so tempted to kiss him again and see if he’d stay shy or rise to her challenge.

“It’s a date, Swan,” he said dazedly. 

Emma hummed out her agreement, going in for one last fleeting kiss. But where she meant to only tease, he took the reins again, kissing her senseless and leaving her breathless when they finally broke apart. Only when her pager beeped with an incoming call did they end their inevitable interlude, and as they did, Emma felt a pang of longing, wishing this moment could last so much longer than this.

“Tonight, love,” he whispered, running his thumb against her lips. “Far away as it may seem, I promise the wait will be worth it.”

“Good,” she replied, nipping his thumb ever so softly, and bringing the fire back in his eyes, before taking a step back. And with that, and just enough presence of mind to grab her coffee, Emma headed off, back through the hospital to the work that awaited her, knowing she could and would get through anything today for the promise of tonight.

Post-Note: Ah!! Finally!! I got the words on the page!! I did the thing!! I wrote the story!! And honestly, it’s such a relief. It felt, at some points, like I may never get this chapter written, but finally today it came. I know many of you were waiting, and I cherished every comment and review and message along the way. I hope all of you who wrote me, and those who read along with chapter one, all enjoy this installation. I write these stories for me and to brighten my world ever so slightly, but also in the hopes that they’ll spark joy for others too. In a time like this, a little joy goes an awful long way. Anyway, thank you all for reading, sending you the best, and hope you’ll join me next time for the final chapter of this CS AU! xE

[hurricanery]

all to myself

A/N: This is a quick thing I wrote completely as a result of re-watching season 15 Amelink moments. Kinda a throwback. The next story I post will either be some domestic amelink/scout stuff orrrr a multi-chapter AU featuring amelink as interns together w/ some other original characters. Let me know what you wanna read next! Feedback is always appreciated!

_______

Floating on a high, and I feel ya

Got an ache inside, and I need ya

Ooh, I desperately wanna be lost with you

'Til all of our energy crosses

_______

They slept together. Once. Two weeks ago. Rather impulsively at a work conference.

And Amelia knows it was more than just an impulsive move, or a soon-to-be repressed mistake. God, she doesn’t see it as a mistake.

She’s been thinking about it basically 24/7 since she returned back to Seattle. She doesn’t remember finally being able to fall asleep that night, but she does remember waking up the next morning with a start.

Because something was different. Good different.

She had sat up in the hotel bed, instantly reaching for her own lips, running her fingertips over them, as if she’d actually feel proof of what happened.

And then she had registered that distinct taste on her lips and vaguely in the back of her throat. Kind of like the burning sensation of a kiss you’ll never not think of. It was a bold presence in her morning. And it was so refreshing.

Her heart had clenched as she let the hazy memories resurface.  

If asked whether she anticipated sleeping with Atticus Lincoln on that night, she would’ve burst out into stunned laughter. Because, no. Of course not. Right?

She’d just ended a long-term relationship. She’d been in a bit of a weird place lately. Not totally herself. And probably not ready. So, this definitely wasn’t going to become anything serious.

But somehow, something had changed that night. And in that moment, after a brief argument that had surprisingly ended in a dinner invite, looking into a pair of pleading blue eyes that she wished didn’t mirror her own, she knew what her next move was.

And it was the way he had gazed back at her, that finally pushed her over the edge. Deciding dinner wasn’t truly what she wanted in that moment, she murmured a quick ‘no’ before stepping forward and capturing his soft lips in her own.

She remembers the way he had instantly kissed her back, and the way his breath felt against her own. Her hands went to the buttons on his shirt, and the noise that she had made in the back of her throat, a mix between a whine and a full-fledged moan. As if to say, finally.

She likes to think it was Link who took control then, slipping his tongue into her mouth and pulling his own shirt the rest of the way off. Pushing her toward the bed and lifting her onto it. Pushing down a wall she’d had up for some time now. Making her feel.

Alternative pain relief.

Finally. Feeling.

_______

Two weeks later and Amelia’s still feeling. A lot.

But her mind is clouded mostly with confusion. Because she hasn’t heard anything from Link since that night. And she hopes to god that he doesn’t regret it. But she’d totally understand if he did. She’s the one in a weird place. The one who needs alternative pain relief.

Part of her feels guilty. The inexplicable doubt weighs on her, the fact that she’s basically using him. Just because she needs it, doesn’t mean he does, too. And so Amelia suppresses any urge she has to bring it up; suppresses any urge she has to just jump his bones right then and there, when the two of them are hopping on a private plane to New York for a surgery. Basically forced into each other’s company.

She’ll act cool, calm, collected….all of it.

She’ll disregard the fact that she’s been ‘in a weird place these days,’ because she’s just grateful that she’s feeling, again.

_______

Amelia steps onto the small plane and all of her anxieties about seeing Link again wash away as soon as she locks eyes with him.

He turns to her, from where he has already taken his seat, and awkwardly kind of shrugs, with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Hey, stranger,” she mumbles, in a mock-serious tone, before she realizes she can’t keep up the facade. And she starts laughing. “Long time, no see.”

Link laughs in agreement, and it looks like his shoulders relax a little. Amelia takes her seat across from him, smirking the whole time.

_______

It happens again.

Amelia doesn’t mean for it to happen again, but it does.

And now she’s slipping out of Link’s bed and pulling on his shirt in one swift movement. Her ‘no sleepovers’ policy at the forefront of her mind as she makes her way to the door between their adjoining hotel rooms.

“Wait, how about we order pizza?”

Amelia glances at Link incredulously. “We have a very important surgery early tomorrow. Sleep time.”

“Or room service?” He continues, persistent. “Room service in bed and then we sleep?”

“No,” Amelia laughs. “No sleepovers, remember?”

Link pouts at her, collapsing back against the bed dramatically. “Let’s forget the rules for a night. I’m hungry.”

“Nope!” Amelia states matter-of-factly. “No complications. We both agreed. My life is already complicated enough.” She laughs.

Link sighs again dramatically, accepting defeat.

“Goodnight, Link.” She smirks at him as he lays back against the bed. “See you tomorrow.”

There’s brief silence as she turns around in her doorway, beginning to push the door shut.

“Goodnight, Amelia.”

_______

The following evening, after a successful surgery, Amelia and Link return to their hotel. As they enter the lobby, the receptionist at the front desk waves in their direction. Amelia simply waves back before she realizes that the receptionist is trying to wave her over.

“I’ll go see what’s up. Hold the elevator for me.” Amelia mumbles.

Link presses the button to call the elevator down and watches from across the lobby as Amelia chats briefly with the staff. A minute later, Amelia returns with a weird look on her face.

“What was that about?” Link asks.

“There’s a problem with the rooms,” she explains. She looks riddled with uncertainty. “Well, with my room.”

“Huh?”

“Apparently my hotel room is reserved for another guest starting early tomorrow. They offered to upgrade me starting tonight.”

Link frowns.

“I didn’t want to have to move all my luggage to another floor so….” She pauses briefly as they step onto the elevator. The next sentence comes out in a nervous mumble. “I said we only needed one room.”

Link slowly breaks out into a smile. “We can work with that,” He says calmly. “Good idea to not have to move your stuff.”

The elevator door opens to their floor and Amelia just stands there for a second, watching Link exit.

She swears she can hear him laughing at her sudden awkwardness as he makes his way down the hallway.

Once Amelia gets all of her luggage settled into Link’s room, she returns to the lobby briefly to return the key card to her previous room.

She re-enters their now shared hotel room and watches as Link sighs tiredly, leaning toward the bed before dramatically sprawling out on it.

Amelia laughs loudly at his action. “You were great today.” She sits on the chair in the corner to remove her ankle boots and jacket. “In surgery I mean.”

“As were you.” Link responds, picking his head up to glance at her. “Very few people in this world can do what you did today.”

Amelia smiles sheepishly at the wholeheartedness of his words, then suddenly stands up.

“I’m gonna shower.” She states, “I’ll just be a few.”

Link tries not to pass out on top of the covers before she returns. He can hear her humming slightly to herself from inside the bathroom, and Link stifles the urge to mock her in any way.

Link changes into some sweatpants and a t-shirt before he hears the water turn off.

“Ah, shit,” he hears Amelia hiss through the thin walls.

“Amelia?” he calls, almost too quickly, cursing himself for being too attentive.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Uh, yeah? Yeah, Hi. Everything’s cool in here. Yep. Don’t worry.” And then she laughs.

“Uhhhh,” he draws out his response. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just…..clumsy. Dammit.” She laughs again breathlessly. “I, uh. I cut my shin…. shaving….I thought it stopped bleeding, but…”

Silence falls between them again and Amelia can’t help but laugh at the situation she’s gotten herself in.

“Do you need my help?”

“Uh, no. I don’t think so.” She knows she doesn’t sound convincing.

“…Amelia?”

“Actually, do you have a bandaid? …..Or like six?”

There’s another pause before Amelia can hear some shuffling around in the other room.

“There’s got to be a first aid kit in here somewhere.” Link responds, making his way to the closet “Got it!”

He walks over to the bathroom but pauses with his hand on the door knob. “Should I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah. Please.” Comes a muffled reply.

Link opens the door and is met with an unexpected sight. Not entirely sure what to expect, but Amelia, wrapped up in a white towel, sitting on the lid of the closed toilet seat, leg propped up on the edge of the bathtub, was not it.

He bursts out laughing.

“This is not funny!” But she’s laughing, too. And rolling her eyes at him. “I need those bandages!”

“Wait, no. Amelia. You can’t just put a bandaid on there. You’re bleeding, like, a lot.” He kneels down next to her, and Amelia instinctively pulls her towel tighter underneath her arms. Link gives her a look, as if to say, 'It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before. Now please let me assess your injury.’

And Amelia just relaxes her shoulders, nodding to herself and to him.

“And you’re soaking wet, no bandaid is gonna stay on your skin like this,” he mutters, pushing the ropes of her wet hair back past her shoulders, in hopes that it would help her dry faster.

He grabs a roll of toilet paper from under the sink and goes to work at stopping the bleeding, holding it there for a while until he thinks it’s okay to wrap up.

“Now six bandaids seems a little excessive there, Amelia. How about two?”

“I think I deserve at least four,” she bargains, endearing smirk on her face.

“Fine,” Link gives in, gently placing each bandaid on her shin one at a time. “There. Good as new,” he smiles, patting her leg.

Amelia rolls her eyes, blushing. “Thanks.”

And then Link stands, not sure what to do with himself now.

“I’m going to change now,” Amelia laughs.

And now Link’s blushing. “Yeah, yep. I’ll get out of your way,” he mumbles, exiting the tiny bathroom.

_______

When Amelia enters the room a few minutes later in an oversized t-shirt, which is what she normally wears to bed, she swears she sees Link do a double take. He’s now dressed in sweats standing near his open luggage in the opposite corner of the room. His stare lingers for a second too long and Amelia looks down at herself. She doesn’t understand the sudden awkwardness between them. But the air feels different.

“I know. Sorry, this is all I have,” she mumbles. “And I thought I’d have my own room tonight so-”

“What? No, you’re fine,” Link responds quickly.

She grins at him, clearly amused by him.

Link shakes his head at himself and turns to grab a couple pillows off of the bed, tossing them on to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Amelia interrupts him.

“Making a bed for myself on the floor?” It comes out as a question. “No sleepovers, remember?” He laughs, knowingly.

Amelia looks stunned, but only for a moment.

“No you’re not,” Amelia laughs. “Just get in here,” she adds, as she crawls under the covers on one side of the bed.

Link gratefully tosses the pillows back, getting into bed beside Amelia, sitting against the headboard as he pulls on the covers.

He reaches across and switches off the light on his bedside table, and the whole room goes dark. Amelia rolls onto her side and listens to Link shuffle around until he gets comfortable.

“Goodnight, Link. Thanks again for today,” Amelia whispers in his general direction, not really sure of his current position.

“'Night, Amelia.” Amelia is surprised by the vicinity of his voice, closer than she expected.

A couple minutes later and Amelia needs to readjust herself. She gasps when her face collides with something surprisingly hard. She reaches out her hand and quickly realizes she’s touching Link’s chest, now with her hand, and leaning against him with her face pressed up to it.

“Oops,” she mutters, and Link laughs under his breath.

But she doesn’t move away.

And Link takes the initiative of pulling her in closer at her hips, and then keeping his hands there, squeezing at her waist.

“Amelia, I-”

“Link-”

They both pause. And Link squeezes at her waist again, encouraging her to talk first.

She clears her throat. “Link, I-” She pauses again, working herself up to what she wants to say.

Their eyes are adjusting to the light it seems, and Amelia can just make out Link’s eyes, staring intently back at her. Maybe he can sense her worry.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Link offers.

Amelia nods. “Right,” she mumbles quietly.

Their faces are just inches apart. And Amelia knows she wants to kiss him. She wants to have him again. She wants to keep feeling. Keep falling.

Maybe she wants the complications.

Maybe she just wants to kiss him.

So she does. And Link shivers as her lips gently brush his. Amelia feels Link move one of his hands up in response, so that it’s cupping her cheek, while the other remains on her hip.

Link leans forwards and presses his lips against Amelia’s. He opens his mouth to her and Amelia does the same, catching his top lip between hers. It’s slow, and it’s lovely. And this time it’s not impulsive.

But it still feels so right.

They pull apart, smiling through the darkness. And Amelia rolls over so that her back lines up against Link’s front. His arm goes possessively around her waist, pulling her in closer than they’ve ever been.

Amelia can feel her breath start to even out, as well as hear Link’s. Both on the verge of sleep. She just barely whispers into the quiet of the room, “I kind of like sleepovers."

_______

And I want you all to myself

Just keep me caught in your spell

You stop my breathing, but keep my heart breathing

You're bringing me outta hell

Oh, I want you all to myself

[seanfalco]

The Going Away Party | Misfits Timeline Anomaly’verse

an oc x oc collaboration between @seanfalco & @super-unpredictable98​

Word Count: 5k Warnings: Smut, Jealousy a/n: The quad’s last night in London before starting a new chapter in their lives.

[ masterlist ]

“Okay, so... is that everythin’?” Win’s Nathan asked, trying to peer over Lyddie’s shoulder at the list in her hand.

"I think so, it's not like it's gonna be a ton of people, the flat can’t really fit more ten people sitting down, fifteen, if they’re standing up..." Lydia murmured, checking the list once again, her people-pleasing reflexes kicking in trying to remember what each of their guests liked. 

"Good thing Natty told us, I'm so happy to help you guys," she mused, following Win's Nathan while texting Win to say they would be home soon.  "I'll miss the Estate. I know we're not going forever, but it feels weird... I've been living here my whole life.

“Yeah, I hear yeh, but it’ll be a nice change of scenery,” Win’s Nathan exclaimed, pushing the trolley for her.  “I’m excited for yeh to perform,” he said, flashing her a grin.

"Me too, I think I'm kinda numb at this point, if I actually access my feelings, I might faint," Lydia laughed as she put the groceries on the conveyor.  "Do you think that's enough beer?  Should I get more?" she mused at the four cases in front of them.

“We can tell people t’bring their own too,” Win’s Nathan’s laughed.  “Oh.... shite,” he breathed, quickly ducking down behind Lydia.

"What?" she almost instinctively made a force field around them, but thankfully she held back — that would've been hard to explain.  "Is it someone that tried to kill us?" she asked, looking around.

“No, even worse!” Nathan hissed, the checkout girl giving them a strange look.  “That’s Win’s evil stepmum.  The queen bitch, herself!” he exclaimed, gesturing toward the blonde woman nearby, who bore a rather striking resemblance to her daughter, Delilah.

"Ah, who cares, I'm not scared of her... If she tries me, her and her daughter will have matching scars," Lydia said, bagging the groceries with a chuckle.  "Nothing can ruin my mood today, not even the queen bitch supreme."

“Yeah, y’say that now...” Nathan mumbled, eyeing her warily.  She hadn’t seemed to see them... yet, but with the determined way Lydia was moving, it wouldn’t be long til she noticed them, having just gotten all her bagged groceries back into her own trolley.

"What is she gonna do?  Call the manager and say 'the girl with blue hair assaulted my daughter'?  The worst she can do is bore me to death, you shouldn't be scared of a gold-digging slag with ego problems, you're basically a superhero," Lydia pointed out, turning to kiss him before loading the groceries into the car Simon managed to borrow from their parents.

Win’s Nathan spluttered, but accepted Lyddie’s kiss.  “I guess,” he muttered.  “I don’t always feel like a superhero though.”  As soon as the words would out of his mouth he swallowed thickly, Win’s stepmum having clearly spotted him, her head swiveling his way and suddenly her trolley was changing directions.  He couldn’t see her eyes behind the dark sunglasses she wore, but he swore she was glaring bloody murder at him. 

“You!” she cried, running her trolley right into his shin as he yelped in pain.  “You and you!” she amended, venom dripping from her voice as she turned her glare on Lydia.  “You’re the miscreants that got my Delilah sent to the hospital!” she cried. 

“Oh hi, Karen,” Nathan drawled, “So y’remember me?  I’m flattered!”

"Hey, Karen... name suits you," Lydia added under her breath.  She was probably the only one able to understand the joke from the future, but she didn't care.  "I didn't do anything, Delilah's mouth sent her to the hospital, it wasn't me... and if you touch my boyfriend again you'll see who goes to the hospital next," Lydia growled.  She tried to be civil, but seeing her run into Nathan like that was too much. 

"You okay, sweetie?" she cooed, running her fingers through his curls as he nursed his bruised shin.

“Oh please, he’s fine!” Karen snapped, giving Nathan a disdainful look as he pouted, rubbing at his shin.  “I want you to tell my ungrateful slag of a stepdaughter not to contact us again.  Her father was willing to overlook her past transgressions, which is more than she deserved, honestly, but no longer.  He wishes to have nothing further to do with her and it’s about time.”

"I'll really appreciate if you wash your fucking mouth before talking about my girlfriend," Lydia snapped back, flashing her a hollow grin before taking Nathan's hand to avoid slapping the woman.  "Maybe watch what your own daughter is doing in her spare time.  You know, besides committing crimes, terrorizing children... but it'll be my pleasure, I'll tell Win that her shitty family is finally leaving her alone, she'll be enthused!"

Nathan let Lydia pull him away.  He knew, though, that she was bluffing.  She wouldn’t tell Win what Karen had said, it would hurt Win too much.  She’d always held out hope that her dad might finally come to his senses and try to make up for everything, to be the dad she needed him to be, and anger bubbled up inside him. 

“But what about me?” he called, catching Karen’s attention once more.  “Am I still allowed t’call?  I mean, how else are we supposed to continue our illicit affair, Karen?  You were the best cougar I’ve ever had!  I thought what he had meant somethin’!  And now you’re just throwin’ me away like a old rag?” he cried dramatically, drawing more onlookers’ attention and causing a scene, Karen’s mouth falling open.

"Oh my God!  You're saying that you're cheating on me with this crusty old cunt?" Lydia cried, dramatically falling to her knees, crocodile tears running down her face.  "Tell me now!  She's the one who gave you crabs wasn't she?  WASN'T SHE?” she sobbed, turning next to Win’s stepmum.  

“You homewrecker, I’m pregnant with his child and you stab me in the back, stealing my boyfriend, Karen?  You'll pay for what you did, you monster!"  Lydia knew that would probably end up somewhere in some tabloid, but Karen's expression was absolutely priceless, totally worth the damage control afterwards.

Snickering, Nathan pulled Lyddie to her feet and jumped into the car, leaving Karen gaping after them as people stared and muttered behind their hands. 

“Oh my God, that was priceless!” he laughed. “Lyddie, you were amazing!  Absolute perfection!”

 He knew it wouldn’t be enough to make up for the fact that Win’s dad was finally cutting her off for good, but it had felt good to humiliate Karen one last time.

"Thanks... I gotta practice for my big Broadway debut," Lydia laughed, taking Win's Nathan's face in her hands and kissing him lovingly.  "Once we get home, Winnie can borrow my power and get rid of that bruise — speaking of that!  I don't know what to say to her, she's gonna be devastated; I wanted tonight to be perfect for her."

“Maybe... we shouldn’t tell her?” Nathan ventured hesitantly.  He didn’t want her to be upset either and he had a feeling hearing about this would completely ruin her night.

"Yeah, maybe it's best, at least for now..." Lydia agreed.  "Maybe in New York, if I were to receive bad news, I'd rather be on top of the Empire State than a flat in Wertham."

——

“Jeeze what’s taking them so long,” Win muttered, checking her phone.  She and Lyddie’s Nathan were on decoration duty while Lyddie and her Nathan had gone to the supermarket to grab the food.  Smart idea, Win thought ruefully.  Though Lydia had been teaching her some things, she still struggled in the kitchen and didn’t want to ruin the party with her subpar cooking skills.

With Nathan’s powers and Win borrowing them, it had taken them almost no time at all to decorate the flat for the party.  

"They're shaggin', they have t'be!" Lyddie's Nathan groaned, throwing himself down to the couch.  "It's almost time for the party and they’re shaggin' in her mum's car!"

“Maybe they just got held up,” Win murmured, sitting down next to him on the edge and running her fingers through his hair.  “I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”

"Hey, loves!" Lydia exclaimed, shouldering open the door while carrying two huge paper bags under her arms.  "Sorry we took so long, the line was crazy..." 

"The line, uh huh..." her Natha teased, getting up to help.  "Let's pretend I believe you."

“Oh sure, like you weren’t gettin’ frisky with Win while you were waitin’ for us,” Win’s Nathan teased, carrying the beer in.

"How dare you!  We did no such thing!" Lyddie's Nathan gasped.  "We've been workin'..." 

"I wish we had time for that," Lydia mused, looking over at Win's Nathan, he was really sexy dealing with the whole Karen thing earlier.  "But looks like I'll have to wait until after the party, the guests will be here any second."

“Why didn’t we do that?” Win teased, following Lyddie’s Nathan into the kitchen to help unload the food.

"Cause I'm nervous..." he admitted, it was a little scary, every time he remembered he was moving across the world, he felt slightly sick to his stomach.  "But after the party I'll take care o'that," he pushed that fear aside and smiled.

“Aw, Nats,” Win murmured, wrapping her arms around him, momentarily surprised at his moment of vulnerability.  “I’m nervous too,” she whispered.  “But the important thing is we’ll all be together.”

Since the flat was so tiny, they only invited a few people — their closest friends, but Lydia was still freaking out.  Being anxious about being a good host, on top of leaving for New York the next day, on top of the unpleasant (to say the least) encounter from earlier made her run and hide in the bedroom for a moment, not sure if she was doing everything right.

“Hey Lyds, you alright?” Win asked, pushing the door open a hair, having noticed her hurry out of the room.

"I-I don't know... I think I'm having a little bit of a panic attack, but I'll be fine," Lydia assured her, kissing the back of Win's hands.  "Don't worry, baby, go have fun, I'll be right there."

“Are you sure?  I really don’t mind if you want me to keep you company,” Win insisted.

"Maybe just for a second..." Lydia admitted, curling up against Win, trying to breathe properly.  "I love you, Winnie. You’re amazing, you know that?  If anyone ever says you're not, the problem's with them," she insisted heatedly.

“Oh Lyddie, I love you too,” Win murmured, holding her girlfriend while rubbing soothing circles against her back.  “Did someone say I’m not amazing?” she asked with a laugh.

"I just wanted you to know, that's all," Lydia mumbled.  "You're the best girlfriend I could ask for, and I don't ever wanna be without you."  She said, looking up and placing a gentle kiss to Win's lips.

“Oh babe, you’re so sweet,” Win murmured, kissing her back as she caressed her cheek.  “I don’t ever wanna be without you either, Lyddie.”  She could hear the Nathans’ raucous laughter from the other room and was glad they were out there entertaining.  “Everything’s gunna be alright,” Win assured Lydia.  “Like I told Nathan... the most important part is we’ll all be together.”

"Yeah, that's all that matters..." Lydia agreed, getting up.  Before opening the door, she hesitated, looking in the mirror to make sure everything was in place.  "Let's do this." 

"Hey, are you okay, Lyds?" Simon asked, pulling her to the corner as soon as he noticed her coming out of the room. 

"Yeah yeah, don't worry, I was just a little scared, but I feel better now," she smiled.

Win gave Lyddie’s hand a squeeze before Simon pulled her off to the side to talk to her and she waded into the small sea of bodies, looking for a tall curly head.  

“Hey! There yeh are, Winnie,” her Nathan exclaimed, his twin not too far off.  “Where were ya?” 

“I was talking to Lyddie, she got a little overwhelmed, but I think she’s okay now,” she murmured, looking around at all their friends.  Most of them seemed to know her somehow, more like a faint memory, and though it made her a little sad to think about, it was bearable.  At least they knew her at all.

Lydia tried to forget all the foggy thoughts getting in the way and tried to have fun.  The Nathans worked really hard on planning the party, she didn't want to upset them by not enjoying it.  Grabbing a beer, she sat down with the rest of the gang and her partners.  Everyone seemed happy, chatting about anything and everything. 

"So, what are you guys talking about?"

"Not much, just gushing about you," Win answered, leaning into her side as she joined them, resting her head against her shoulder for a moment.

"About me?" Lydia blushed, laughing as she imagined what they could be saying. 

"Yeah, we were talkin' about your sexual prowess with three lovers," her Nathan mocked. 

"Nathan, Jesus Christ..." Simon shook his head with a wince.  "How many times have I told you not to do that?  I don't wanna know!"

"Actually we were talking about the musical, and how excited we are to be spending time in New York again," Win cut in, giving Simon an apologetic grin.

"It feels so odd to think about it, it's like a dream, I'm really excited, you know even in the future there has never been a female Lonny in Rock of Ages, I have no idea how this happened!"  Lydia was always so excited to talk about the musical.  She knew she’d never be able to repay them for getting her to audition.  "Of course, everyone's coming to the City to watch me when the night comes... I need everyone there," she insisted.

"Of course!" Alisha exclaimed excitedly, grabbing onto Simon's arm. 

"Don't worry, we'll make sure everyone's there, Lollipop," Win's Nathan assured her with a grin, his hand resting on her thigh. 

"Win? Hey, Win!"  A voice through the crowd drew her attention and she looked up to see her bandmate, Max making his way over.  She'd been a little surprised that the Nathans' had thought to invite him, but she was glad to see him.

"Max, hey!" she exclaimed, getting up from the couch to greet him with a hug.

"Who's that?" Lydia whispered to her Nathan, feeling just the tiniest hint of jealousy, not that she would ever admit it... 

"That's Max, th’other Nathan had the idea to invite him," he explained.  

Lydia watched that with an indecipherable expression.  She didn't really understand why she felt so off. 

"You alright?" Kelly asked, following Lydia's eyes. 

"Yeah, sure," she answered distractedly, getting up to introduce herself.  "Hey there."

"Hey!" Win exclaimed.  "Oh, that's right, you guys have never been introduced before," she remembered.  "Lyds, this is my bandmate Max.  Max, this is my lovely girlfriend, Lydia," she said, wearing a bright smile.

"Nice to meet you," Lydia murmured,  shaking his hand.  "Make yourself at home, get a drink, a snack... I think I remember seeing you at the music festival that Winnie and I played at together, is that right?" she asked, taking her seat with a smile that made Simon and Lyddie's Nathan exchange a look. 

“What's wrong with her?” Simon mouthed while Nathan shrugged, but he was wondering the same thing.

Win frowned as Lydia hurried away again before even really waiting for Max's response, but she couldn't exactly ask her about it right then. 

"Hey, Win, d'you think we could go somewhere quieter?” Max asked, interrupting her thoughts.  “There’s, uhh... there's something I need to talk to you about.” 

"Uh, yeah, sure..." Win said awkwardly, looking around for a quiet spot.  She didn’t exactly like the sound of that.

"I don't like him," Lydia announced suddenly, bouncing her leg nervously as she sat back down. "Not one bit..." 

"Aww, is someone jealous?" her Nathan teased, poking her playfully. 

"So what if I am?" she demanded, folding her arms. 

"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, Peanut..." Simon took her hand. 

"Yeah, the Nathans should be jealous, but you're much hotter than that guy," Alisha assured her with a grin. 

"I feel like I should be offended, but I don't exactly understand why," Lyddie's Nathan muttered with a twist of his lips.

"Don't worry, Lollipop, I may have been a little jealous of the guy back in th'day, but he's good people.  Surprisingly," Win's Nathan exclaimed. 

"C'mon, we can talk on the balcony," Win suggested, opening the sliding door and ushering Max outside.  "So, what did you wanna talk about, Max?" 

"It's actually somethin' I've been wanting to tell you for a while, and when I heard you were leaving to go to the States... well, I couldn't put off telling you any longer.”

Oh no, Win thought with a grimace.  This can’t be good.

“Winrey, I'm in love with you," Max blurted out, taking her hand. 

"What?" Win exclaimed in response, nearly ripping her hand from his.

"I've been in love with you for years, don't you remember that night we spent together once? Didn't that mean something to you?"

"Being 'good people' doesn't stop him from hitting on our girlfriend..." Lydia huffed. "Did you see the way he looked at her?  I'm telling you, I have an eye for these things." 

"Win has three partners, I think that's more than enough," Kelly laughed. 

"Wow, Lollipop, haven't seen you like this ever since Ruth..." Lyddie's Nathan taunted. "Remember?" 

"Yeah, granny fucker, very funny!" Lydia replied, shifting slightly closer to the balcony to hear their conversation.

"Max, what the fuck are you talking about?" Win exclaimed.  “I never slept with you!”

“I know we were pretty drunk that night, but you have to remember.”

“Oh my God,” Win groaned.  It must have been the other her, the one originally from this timeline before she showed up.

"I'm already in a relationship.  Please don't do this, Max," she begged, saying anything to get him to back off. 

"Do what?  C'mon Win, I know you feel something for me too." 

"Max, I—" Win sighed, unsure what else to say.  This was not the conversation she wanted to be having right now, or ever to be honest.  Max was her best friend outside of the ASBO group, and she didn't want to lose him, but there was no way she was gunna jeopardize her relationship for him, for something she didn’t do.  

"Just, please Win—" Before she could react he leaned in to kiss her.

In a flurry of events the sliding door suddenly flew open and Lydia’s angry voice echoed over the Estate.  "BACK THE FUCK OFF MY GIRLFRIEND" she cried, fuming.  

The two Nathans looked at each other surprised, Lyddie wouldn't act like that without a reason... she must've heard or seen something they didn’t. 

"You come to my flat, in the middle of my party, and you try to kiss my fucking girlfriend?  What the fuck, man?" she shouted angrily.  The rest of the gang was taken back, Simon’s eyes widening — it had been a long time since he'd seen his sister that angry. 

Turns out she did have a good eye for that stuff. 

"Get the fuck out!" Lydia snapped, pointing at the door.  "I've had a pretty hard day, I don't need this shit.  Take the hint and leave."

"But, Win, please?" Max stuttered, hesitating. 

"Max, I'm sorry, but you need t'leave," Win said, giving him a pointed look.  For a moment she didn't think he was going to, but finally he stormed out and Win slumped into the nearest chair, hiding her face in her hands.

"Very well done, Nathan, brilliant!" Lydia snapped at both of them, thought they couldn't have possibly known this was going to happen. "Very memorable last night in England!" she cried, throwing her hands up. 

She wasn't mad at Win, of course not, it wasn't her fault, though the thought of her — any version of her — sleeping with him made Lyddie's stomach churn and she slumped down next to Winnie. 

"Hey, it's okay," she whispered.  "I'm so sorry this happened, I... wanted tonight to be perfect for you."

"It's not your fault, Lyddie," Win murmured, completely embarrassed.  "I'm so sorry, I didn't think he'd... I had no idea he felt that way," she said, squeezing her eyes shut.  "I'm gunna... uh, I'll be right back—“  Before anyone could say anything more Win made a b-line for the bedroom, away from everyone's prying eyes.

Lydia was pretty much used to sharing her entire life with the gang, but she’d known them for a long time, Win had only known them since Community Service and she suddenly felt bad for making such a scene in front of everyone. "

“Winnie, baby," Lyddie exclaimed, hurrying to the door and knocking gently.  "Can I come in?  I just wanna talk and hold you, I'm sorry for all the yelling, I just couldn't help it."

“Yeah, you can come in,” Win said, her voice muffled.  As soon as Lydia shut the door behind her Win quickly scrubbed at her eyes, trying to hide her tears.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea he felt that way... I can’t believe he tried to kiss me— I can’t believe he actually thought I’d leave you guys for him.  I’m just... I’m sorry, I don’t want you t’think—“  She shook her head and sank to the bed.

"There's nothing you could've done, baby, it was completely delusional of him to come here and pull this stunt," Lydia joined Win in bed and pulled her close.  "I love you, I would never judge you because of that.  I was really jealous and I embarrassed you, I'm so sorry about that."

“You were jealous?” Win asked softly, glancing over, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah, of course..." Lyddie felt her cheeks burn slightly.  "I saw th’way he looked at you, I saw you hugging him, I was bloody jealous."

“Aw babe,” Win drawled, her embarrassment forgotten for the moment.  “Is it terrible that I kinda like that?  It makes me feel special,” she laughed.  “I’m sorry, I’m terrible.”

"No, you're not terrible and you are special..." Lydia felt happy for being able to make Win smile after that shitshow.  "I just love you too much, and thinking about someone else with you made me lose it, you're mine."

“Someone other than a Nathan?” Win teased.  “I like how fiery you got babe, it was pretty hot,” she admitted, sliding her hand along Lyddie’s jaw as she leaned in to kiss her.

"I've never seen you get jealous over me..." Lydia mused, kissing her back, one hand firmly squeezing her thigh.  "But that's good to know, I should get jealous over you more often," she joked.

“I’ve been jealous before,” Win admitted softly between kisses.  “Though it wasn’t like some asshole was about to try to shove his tongue down your throat,” she said with a small laugh. “But I’ve definitely been jealous,” she said.  “It’s usually when fans flirt with you and you don’t realize it, or when guys at the bar check you out...”

"Yeah you're right, it does feel good," Lyddie murmured, using her thigh to part Win's legs, as she pushed her back, grinding against her.  "To know that you're scared of losing me, it's cute..." she moved to kiss Win's neck.  "I think we might be getting a little outta hand here, do you want me to stop?"

“No, please don’t stop,” Win moaned, tilting her head for Lyddie to keep kissing her neck.

“Win, are you oka—?!” her Nathan exclaimed, cutting off as soon as he saw Lyddie with her. “Oh! I... sorry.  I came t’check on yeh... I knew that guy was bad news!”

"Hey, go on, sit down," Lydia bit her lip.  "That is if you'd like to watch…” she drawled before turning her attention back to her girlfriend.  "Don't worry, we'll be back at the party in no time, but you gotta be quiet, okay, Winnie?" Lydia purred next to her ear, one of her hands sliding under Win's shirt as her thigh kept rubbing against her girlfriend's sex.  "Come on, baby, you know what to do..."

Win nodded, careful not to make a noise as she reached for her Nathan who joined them without having to be told twice.

"So beautiful like this..." Lyddie breathed before capturing Win's lips, one hand sliding between her legs, gathering her arousal as lube to tease her clit.  "Say you're mine, Winnie," she commanded.

“I’m yours, Lyddie,” she breathed, her breath catching, and she rolled her hips against her hand.

"You're so good, baby," Lydia pumped one finger inside of her while nipping at the tender skin of her neck.  "I love you so much."

“I love you too, please Lyddie,” Win whimpered, jumping as she felt Nathan’s thumb circle her clit as Lydia’s fingers pumped into her.  “Oh—“ she sighed, writhing at the pleasure that coursed through her at such two simple touches.

"Please what?  You wanna come for us?  Is that what you want, baby?  Cause I wanna watch you..." Lyddie added another finger, moving faster, while leaving a trail of hickeys down Win's neck.

“Yes, please, I’ll be quiet,” Win whined, threading her fingers in Lyddie’s hair, her other hand seeking Nathan’s.

"Good girl, come for me," Lyddie smirked, by now all the anxiety and sadness had faded, the only one she could focus on was Win.

As if Lyddie’s words were a switch Win climaxed, her body tensing as pleasure took over and she was floating for a moment.  When she came down from her high, her chest heaving, she looked up at her two lovers and gave a tremulous smile.  “I love you both, so much.”

"I love you too," Lydia licked her fingers clean and gently kissed Win's forehead.  "Are you ready to go back?  Can't leave Natty out there by himself for too long," she laughed.

“Yeah, you go on, I’ll be there in a sec,” Win murmured, sitting up, her eyes trailing over to her Nathan who seemed rather quiet.

"Okay," Lyddie stole one last kiss before leaving.  When she came out, she found exactly what she expected: Nathan being Nathan, cracking jokes and pulling tricks that only made everyone roll their eyes, while Lydia laughed.

“Did you ever have a thing with Max?” Win’s Nathan asked quietly. 

“No,” Win answered truthfully.  “He’s a good friend, but I never thought of him that way.  Though,  if what he said tonight is to be believed, apparently my clone from this timeline did…”

Nathan nodded reluctantly.  “Guess he’s been in love with you ever since, huh?  Or at least… well, you know...” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Win murmured.  “This is just so fucked up.” 

“I know,” Nathan exclaimed, reaching for her and Win let him pull her into his arms.  “But it’s not your fault.”

“I know, but I’m still sorry...” she insisted, her words muffled against his shirt. 

“Y’got nothin’ to be sorry for.  I’m sorry he did that t’yeh.” 

Win stayed there for a long time, just letting Nathan hold her.  

“C’mon, let’s go back out there and put all this behind us, huh?  Don’t wanna keep our lovely Lyddie waitin’,” Nathan said, pulling Win to her feet. 

“Yeah, definitely not,” Win agreed, seeming better, and they left the room to rejoin the party.

"So you were right about Max after all," Lyddie's Nathan let his head rest on her lap while they all watched a movie.  

"Yeah, as usual..." she teased.  "But I thought you were used to it by now."  She grinned as Win and the other Nathan joined them.  It felt so odd to know that tomorrow she would have to say goodbye to all their friends and her home. 

"Hey, Simon?" a voice came from the door, Max having left it ajar as he’d left and Lydia looked at her brother, tears springing to her eyes as she recognized the voice. 

"In here, dad!" he called. 

"I was hoping this was the right address, you know how I am sometimes..." 

"Yeah," Lyddie laughed as she shed a tear. 

"The car, right... I'll get the keys.  Dad, you remember my friend Lyddie, right?" Simon asked, taking her hand as he got to his feet.  "She's going to the US tomorrow to perform on Broadway." 

"Wow, that's amazing!  Congratulations!  I remember how talented you are," he exclaimed, holding his hand out to shake hers, but instead Lydia threw her arms around him.

Win watched Lydia hug her dad from her spot on the couch and she was overcome with a sudden wave of emotion. She really wished that Lyddie could tell him the truth about her identity some day.  She wanted her to be happy.  And a part of her wished that she and her own dad could work things out.  For a moment she thought about giving him a call, but what would she say?

"Do you wanna stay?  We have plenty of food and beer," Lydia asked hopefully, fixing her hair to cover the birthmark on her shoulder.  

"Thank you, but I can't, I'm supposed to pick my daughter up at the library.  It's getting a little late, don't want her walking around alone." 

"Yeah, that's... yeah, it's dangerous at night, thanks for dropping by," Lydia stumbled over her words. 

"Well, congrats again on the Broadway thing," he said, giving Lydia a tender look and waved at the rest of the guests.  "Have a good night you lot, sorry for interrupting your party," he chuckled before leaving. 

"Goodbye," Lydia waved back, falling into her Nathan's lap. "—Dad," she added softly after he’d already left.

Win looked over as Lyddie returned, slipping her hand in hers without a word and giving her a squeeze.  “Can I get you anything?” she asked.

"Just a hug," Lydia murmured, wiping the tears from her face as she took Win in her arms.  "Let's just finish the movie, yeah?"

“Of course, babe,” Win murmured, pulling Lydia into her arms.  As they watched the movie, the Nathans cracking jokes and quoting random lines Win idly ran her fingers through Lyddie’s hair, feeling strangely at peace, despite how the evening had gone.

———————-

Tag list: @magic-multicolored-miracle @santacarlahorrorshow @messengeronthemoon @the-freckled-luba @firstpersonnarrator  @spanishmossmagnolia @salvador-daley @forenschik @a-ghoulish-tale @love-is-dirty-baby @vonkimmeren  @violetrainbow412-blog

[valkyrieofsmut]

Bucky Barnes ABO One Shot

Bucky x Female OC

Descriptions:  Dawn’s heat surprises her, and she only wants one Alpha to help her with it. She knows that he’s not into her, so she sneaks into his room to “borrow” something that smells like him, only to find out just how wrong she is about his feelings for her. 

Types: Heat, biting, talk of breeding, ABO dynamics, mutual pining, Dominant Alpha Bucky, complete with growling and stuff... 

Warnings: other than the kinks, I can’t think of any.

Words: 4711

A/n- So, this is actually the first Bucky Barnes smut I ever started writing (way back on June 20, 2018), but it wasn’t finished as I had to do some character research, and then it just kinda got pushed to the back of the pile. Bringing it to you now! Also, you may notice that the OC shares her name with an OC from a different story. No, they aren’t the same universe, I just liked the name and wasn’t sure if this story would ever see the light of day lol.

Masterlist

Story!

Dawn fanned her face, feeling heat building around her. She pulled out her phone to check the temperature and accidentally hit, but still checked, the calendar app while she was at it. 

“Oh shit,” she muttered to herself. 

She was due to start her heat sometime between tomorrow and the day after. 

She'd been so busy with taking care of all of her duties around the tower, which she had moved into not too long ago, that she must not have noticed the date. She wasn't special the way the rest of her new home's residents were; she was only there to take care of secretary type things to keep them free for more important missions and work. 

The temperature wasn't too high outside today, so she rationalized that her heat must be close. 

Dawn stood from the table in the common lunch area, making a list in her head as she headed to the garage. 

When she returned, she made her way to her room, going through her supplies and checking that she had everything she was going to need to hide out in her room and ride out her heat. 

“Shit,” she muttered again, realizing that the one thing she needed most to get her through this, she didn't have; her scent object. 

She pushed everything back into her closet messily from where she'd dug it out, and left, making her way down the hall to the correct door. 

After looking around, sure that she looked as suspicious as it was possible for her to, then listening and sniffing at the door, she heard the inner door to the en-suite bathroom close, and when she closed her eyes to listen harder, she heard the water in the shower start. 

He would be in there for a while, surely long enough for her to grab something that smelled like him without him noticing. 

“He” being Bucky Barnes, the alpha that she had totally fallen for the moment she'd seen him. 

She was excited when he'd flirted with her, but soon realized that he flirted with every woman, and felt jealousy when she was in the same area as him and another omega, her damn instincts gnawing at her to go give him a nip so he'd pay attention to her. 

She had no right, though, as he wasn't mated, flirted with her the same he did with the others, as far as she could tell, and he'd never shown any genuine interest in her. 

He still smelled insanely delicious to her, though, and she thought of him often when she had needy thoughts. 

Like when she had gone into heat both of the times since coming here. 

She'd had a crush on him already, and spent time with him, but then, one time after it had started to rain and she'd been soaked, he'd given her his shirt to wear. She had intended to wash it and give it right back, despite wanting to pretend to forget about it and keep it forever, but before she could, she'd gone into heat and tore her room apart looking for that delicious smell, finding his shirt in her dirty laundry and thinking about him as she had gone through her heat wearing it and touching herself. 

That's when she knew she was doomed forever. 

The second time, she'd been down in the training area and offered to throw his towel in with her things so he didn't have to hold on to it until he had enough to wash. 

Of course, she hadn't washed it until after her heat, but he'd never known. 

This time, Tony had kept her so busy, she had lost track of the days and her heat had snuck up on her, and now she was having to sneak into his room and "borrow" something. 

She quickly opened his door and walked through to close it quietly behind her, then tiptoed to his closet. 

It was, of course, large enough to be a walk in, so she knelt in it and started shuffling through his dirty clothes; the ones that smelled the most like him. She had seen him wearing a baggy hoodie the day before, and was trying to find it in the pile of clothes. 

.

Bucky stood in the shower, rinsing the last of the soap from his body, scrubbing his fingers through his hair to make sure it was completely rinsed as well. 

As his hand traveled down his torso, chasing a cascade of bubbles down, the thought of Dawn entered his mind, and an image soon followed, making excitement stab him internally. 

He still had a while until his rut, so he wasn't sure why he'd so suddenly thought of her and stiffened. Except that he had been attracted to her the moment that he'd met her. 

She was the most amazing omega he'd ever seen, not as ethereally gorgeous as the women on the team, but with a real beauty that seemed to be so natural it actually came from nature, and a smart sense of humor that made him have to work for jokes to make her laugh, though when she did, it filled his heart and belly with warm feelings. 

She smelled like passion fruit and lilies, which was a smell that had been embedded in his mind forever, now, and taunted him to come find it when he was in a rut. 

He had wanted to ask her out long ago, but had somehow never been able to, first because of getting her situated, then there had been missions, and before he knew it, it had been too long, and they had entered the dreaded “friend zone", but he felt that being her friend was better than her hating him, even if she didn't ever seem to want to be with him around other people. 

He turned the water to chilly and forced his needs back before quickly exiting the shower and dressing. 

As he walked back into his bedroom, a faint scent hit him. 

It was a bit strange, as though he knew it, but something had been added to it, or was trying to cover it up. 

His closet door was cracked open with the light on, and he knew that he hadn't left it that way when he'd gone to shower. 

He made his way to it, his brows furrowed in confusion as he got closer, sniffing and trying to place the scent, wondering what the hell whoever was in his closet was doing in there. 

He pulled the door the rest of the way open and stepped into the space, ready to fight, but shocked to see Dawn standing there, her hands holding a sweater only half on, showing her bare belly above the band of her pants, surrounded by his dirty clothes. She looked up at him with big, tender, surprised eyes, and he blinked in confusion. 

So, he had been smelling her, but why did she smell strange? 

His gut and heart twisted, preemptive anger and jealousy striking him at the thought that it might be another alpha. Just because he was in an awkward place where he couldn't have her didn't mean that anyone else got to! 

Dawn's hands dropped the bottom of the large sweater and it fell down to cover her, going down to her thighs, and a breath hissed in through his teeth as his eyes darkened in need. 

That was his hoodie, his sweater, that she was wearing. 

He immediately felt himself stir again. He was so turned on by the fact that she was standing there in his closet, wearing his hoodie, covered in his scent, but the question was still; why? He took a deep breath and knew. 

She was at the edge of a heat. 

He clenched his jaw and hands as he tightened his control over himself, holding back, and hoping that she couldn't tell that he was hard. The last thing he needed was to take advantage, or accidentally take advantage, of her and make her hate him. 

Dawn swallowed roughly as his hooded eyes darkened. 

He was mad… 

The alpha she wanted- needed- inside of her was angry with her. 

Her face tilted to the floor, but her eyes stayed on him as a whine trembled through her lips. 

That sad noise hit Bucky like she had tied a rope around his gut and yanked on it to pull him toward her. 

His lips parted, but when he took a breath to say something, the scent in the air flooded over the roof of his mouth, and he could damn near taste her. 

His body needed her. 

Now. 

Dawn felt the tremors move through her womb to tighten it as he growled. 

“Dawn,” he murmured as his eyelids lowered. 

Heat washed over her as his voice grew gruff with alpha need. Slick flooded between her legs. “Bucky,” she moaned. 

Bucky clenched his jaw again, trying to hold back, even as his cock strained against his jeans. 

She stepped closer to him, her hands reaching for his shirt, and he didn't fight as she pulled it off over his head, worried that touching her would break his control. 

Dawn bit her lip, a needy whine in the back of her throat as her eyes moved over his torso. She crouched, her hands going to his hips while her face moved closer to him, running her tongue up his abs, and his tight control snapped. 

He grabbed her shoulders through his hoodie and pushed her up against the far wall of the closet, a low growl vibrating in his throat. 

Her heat hazed eyes looked up at him as a submissive whine left her, her hands unbuttoning her pants and pushing them as far as they could reach. 

“I can't,” he told her, pulling back and looking away from her so that he didn't get caught up in how sexy she was, and how much he wanted to push into her slick coated pussy. 

“You don't want me,” she murmured, a sad tone entering her voice. 

She hadn't meant to put him in this position, but her body was screaming for him, stabbing her with pain from cramps that weren't as bad as they normally were, thanks to being surrounded by his delicious smell. 

“No- that's not- trust me when I say that's not why,” he told her with a helpless looking half smile. 

“Then… then, why?” She asked. 

“This is just your heat talking; you don't want me. We have to figure out a way to get you back to your room…” Preferably without causing the other alphas to riot, or touch her and make him have to throw them from a roof. 

“Of course I want you-" 

“It's your heat, doll, it just wants an alpha’s knot,” he interrupted. 

“-why do you think I came to get your scent,” she finished. 

He paused for a moment, realizing the implications to her presence there; she had come in here when she was clear headed enough that she hadn't gone to the bathroom to get to him, and had dug through his laundry to find the specific piece she'd wanted. 

And she was still making some sense, which meant that her heat had probably not completely overtook her, yet. 

That would also explain why her scent was strange; it was only partially changed toward the come hither sweetness it would be, and it was dampened by his laundry and her covering herself in his scent. 

And God damn, if it didn't turn him on more to remember that she was wearing his hoodie, and maybe something underneath; he'd seen bare belly, after all. 

He turned to her, seeing her pushing her jeans the rest of the way down her hips so they fell to the ground, and a fresh wave of scent filled his head. 

His growl left her knees trembling in desire as he moved in front of her and pushed her against the wall again, his nose burying in her neck to smell her scent mixing with his from his hoodie. 

He kissed her and gave a nip that made her moan, then knelt in front of her and buried his nose in her slick covered panties as his hands gripped her hips, breathing her scent in deeply. 

He was hard, so hard he was straining the zipper on his jeans, and his hand moved down to rub and try to relieve some of the pressure. 

Dawn moaned, her hands finding his head and tangling her fingers in his hair through the pools made by the oversized sleeves of his hoodie. 

He groaned, licking her through her panties as her fingers tightened. “Doll, you smell so good-" He pulled her forward as he leaned back, making her land in his lap, and buried his nose in her neck again, burrowing between his hoodie and her skin, nuzzling into her and finding her pulse to suck on it. “Mm, fuck, doll, I want to knot you so bad… I have for a long time.” 

“You have?” She asked, the world starting to tilt as she looked around too fast. Her heat was coming on full force, now. 

He hummed an affirmative into her, nipping around her throat, nuzzling into her scent gland to lick at it and take in her heat sweetened scent. 

She started rocking her hips against his, her legs moving to wrap around his waist, her body trying to somehow get him to knot her through their remaining clothes. 

“Mmm, I want you to knot me… since I got here… You smell so good, Bucky…” She moaned. 

He groaned into her neck, his arms wrapping around her back and holding her tight against him, so happy to hear her say that. “Why?” He asked. 

She shook her head to him. “Can't explain… Too hot, brain melting,” she murmured into his neck. “Only know I need your knot…” 

Bucky pulled away from her neck, his lips aggressively taking hers as he laid them down, pressing her into the pile of his clothes with his hips. “Don't worry, my little omega, alpha is here and he's going to knot you good,” he breathed against her, his lips sucking on the skin along her throat. 

She whimpered at his voice, need making her inner muscles tighten and more slick seep from her. 

He managed to get one of her thighs between his knees, spreading her knees apart with his so that his hand could slide over the fabric of his hoodie to where it ended at her thigh, then slide up under it along her hot skin to the cloth between her legs that she was trying to grind against his thigh. 

His flesh fingers rubbed over the wet strip where his tongue had licked, pressing against her hard enough that she moaned and started grinding against his hand instead of his thigh. She sighed his name, and he groaned into her throat. 

He kissed her desperately, his lips moving back to hers, tongue and teeth roughly pressing and touching hers as his fingers rubbed her clit through her panties. 

Dawn moaned to him, arching and trying to get closer to his rough hand and body, her hand clenching around his pants, wanting them off, and the other in his hair, trying to pull him closer. 

A whined gasp left her lips as her hips bucked against his hand as she came, more slick seeping from her. 

Bucky growled, his fingers wrapping around her panties and pulling them until they ripped from her, a whimper leaving her, and guilt filled him as he realized that he might have hurt her. 

He kissed her again, then pulled his lips away as he moved down her body to kiss her hips where the fabric of her panties had dug in before ripping. 

His hands slid over her hips, then down to her spread thighs, his lips trailing over her hips to her slick covered slit. 

"Fuck, baby," he groaned into her softly. "God, you're dripping for me… And you smell so fucking good…" 

Dawn whined for his attention as her hips lifted, but her noise was cut off into a cry of need as Bucky buried his mouth in her soaked pussy. His tongue flicked out, gathering all of her wetness that it could, drinking her in as his tongue moved to her opening and pushed in. 

Dawn cried out, her hips bumping up against him. He felt good there, but she needed something more. 

Bucky's mouth moved with her, licking and sucking at her clit as his fingers pushed into her, finding her soft spot and teasing it. 

"Bucky," she called, her hips arching to him. "Alpha," she whined needily. 

A deep growl rumbled in his throat and he pulled back, his eyes dark and dangerous, his form exuding power and wildness as he stalked over her and took her mouth roughly with his. 

Dawn whimpered and kissed him back, her hips spreading and angling to give him the best access to her. 

Bucky kissed down her neck and to her collarbone, his teeth nipping her until he pulled back, his hands going to his pants, ripping them open and forcing them down. His cock sprung up proudly, and Dawn's eyes were drawn to it as she panted. 

A low growl from him made the air, and her body, tremble. 

Desire and need filled him, making his cock give a twitch and bob under her gaze. 

"Omega," he growled, and Dawn felt her womb clench, begging for his seed. 

"Alpha," she whimpered, her need obvious in her eyes. 

Bucky tasted her flavor as he licked his lips and dropped to his hands over her, finding her mouth with his and devouring her. 

He could feel her hips squirming against his as he pressed against her, making her wet pussy slide and rub over his cock. 

Dawn whimpered as Bucky's chest rumbled against her. He pulled back and kissed and nipped his way down to her neck, pulling back only a little as his hands caught his hoodie and pulled it up over her head, but couldn't get it off of her body with them both laying on it, and it tangled her arms in it. He pushed her hands up, keeping them above her head, still tangled in the hoodie. 

"Omega, hold still," he groaned. "Fuck- you feel so good my little omega- you're going to make me cum before I even get in ya…" 

Dawn whimpered, almost sobbing out, "Bucky, please… Alpha- Alpha, please," she begged as he kissed down her breasts and nipped at her nipples. 

Bucky growled to her, warning, "Omega… Your alpha knows what you need, and I’m going to give it to you. When I’m ready." He nipped at her breasts and growled, "mine." Dawn was panting and begging for more with her body as he continued to nip at her and growl that she was his. "Mine… mine… mine…"

Dawn whimpered, "yes- yes Bucky, yes, Alpha, all yours, all for you- please, Bucky- need your knot… Alpha, need you so bad," she begged. 

Bucky kept one hand on hers, the other going under her knee and putting it on his shoulder, letting his hand stroke down her thigh to her hip. "Gonna be a good girl for me?" He asked, and she nodded vigorously. "Yeah? You gonna take my cock?" She nodded more, a whine leaving her. "Gonna let me give ya my knot? Let me fill ya with my cum?" 

Dawn whimpered louder, desperately. "Please," she begged, "please let me have your knot- please fill me with your cum!" 

Bucky let out a growl that turned into a groan and pushed his cock to her opening and started nudging it in. 

He couldn't take it slow for long, and pushed his way in, a weak groan forcing its way from his throat as he bottomed out. 

Dawn let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of him being fully inside of her. "Bucky," she sighed lovingly. 

He turned to her lips, sighing her name as he kissed her, starting to thrust, gaining a soft, constant pace. "God, dreamed of this so long," he sighed to her. 

Dawn nodded vigorously in agreement. "Knew you'd feel good, Alpha," she keened. "Feel so good…"

Bucky nuzzled her jaw, the smell of her on his face, combined with her heat scent wafting from her scent gland, right by his sensitive nose, drove him a bit feral, and a growl rumbled out against her throat. 

His hand buried itself in her hair, tugging until she arched her neck up, baring her throat to him. 

Bucky nipped and licked along the sensitive skin, making her hips arch up to him and another whimper leave her. 

A needy growl left him and he gave a final nip before pulling back and sliding his hard dick from her, and she cried out and whimpered at the loss. 

Bucky looked over her begging body and licked his lips before he growled, "Omega. Present for your Alpha." 

In a blink, Dawn rolled over to her stomach, working her knees up to press her ass in the air, thighs spread so Bucky had the perfect view. 

A low rumble sounded in his chest that made shivers run down her spine, and she felt his hands take her thighs and adjust her so that she was almost laying flat on her stomach, but her hips still turned up, leaving enough room for his hands to grip her hips. 

His body laid over hers, his chest pressed against her back, and he helped her shove off the hoodie tangling up her arms. He leaned back, one hand tugging her hair out of the way so that he could kiss and leave soft love bites down her shoulder and back, until he got low enough that his hands were on her hips. 

Bucky adjusted himself, pushing into her dripping pussy with a half moan, half growl. "Fuck, baby- so wet and hot for your Alpha," he groaned. "Such a tight, good- ungh- pretty little Omega…" 

Dawn whimpered as he started thrusting, one hand moving up to the top of her hip, pressing just above one ass cheek, the other on her ribs, holding her down and still as he fucked into her roughly. 

Growls and grunts were falling to her from his lips, making her whimper and moan back. "Alpha- so good, Alpha," she whined, her legs twining around his, her back arching up toward him. 

Bucky nuzzled behind her ear, his hot breath blowing over her through her hair. "You're being such a fucking perfect little Omega for me," he told her. "Gonna fuck you so hard," he panted, and she whined needily. "Gonna shove my big knot in your tight little Omega pussy. Gonna put my pups in your belly," he told her, feeling himself twitch inside of her at the thought as he continued rutting into her. 

Dawn whimpered, her body arching more to be closer to him. "Please," she begged. "Please let me have your knot! Want your pups- need your cum-!" She panted. 

"Yeah," Bucky answered. "Yeah, baby- gonna fucking fill you up with my cum. Gonna be dripping down your thighs past my knot, gonna be so much," he growled, a stuttered grunt leaving him at the feeling of her coming and tightening around him in waves. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, "I feel your pussy tryin ta milk the cum from my cock- feels so good, baby, feels so fucking good-" 

Dawn felt herself clenching around him, her orgasm rippling through her whole body. 

Bucky shifted up, giving himself enough room to move, and started pounding into her hard, feeling her body rocking forward in the nest of his clothes with his thrusts despite his hands holding her down. 

"Good girl," he moaned loudly, "good girl- takin’ me so well- gonna take my knot that good? Huh?" He watched her nodding her head as desperate noises left her. "Yeah?" She nodded again desperately and Bucky felt himself getting ready to cum, his knot starting to swell. "H-here it comes- here it comes, baby- take it," he gasped. "Take it for me, doll," he groaned as he felt it starting to catch, but still slipping out. 

Dawn let out moans as she felt Bucky’s knot slipping in and out of her, arching and needy for it to catch and swell until it couldn’t slip from her wet heat. 

“Come for me,” Bucky growled above her, head bowing as he continued to pound into her prone body with his hands holding her down. “Ungh! Baby- oh fuck, doll- come for me-” he groaned, feeling himself catching and knowing he didn’t have much longer. “Omega- come for your Alpha!” He demanded, shoving his knot into her hot, drenched pussy. 

Dawn cried out as she arched, her body clenching around Bucky’s twitching cock as she came.

Bucky let out a primal noise, growling out, “fuck! Yes!” before moving his hands to Dawn’s, twining their fingers as he slammed them to the pile of clothes, his chest meeting her back and pressing her down so she couldn’t get away as his hips continued to grind into her, tugging his knot a little as he sent shot after shot of cum deep into her pussy, his teeth closing around skin dangerously close to her bonding mark after hovering over it for a moment. 

They gasped for air as they came down from their high, now connected in a cool off period for a time. 

Bucky kissed over her shoulder, still trying to catch his breath as he wrapped his arms around her and rolled to the side so he wasn’t crushing her. He buried his nose in her hair as he held her tightly against him. “God, that was so good, doll,” he sighed against her, eyes closed to take in as much of her presence as he could. 

Dawn nodded, managing to gasp out a, “yeah…” 

“Sorry if I was a little rough, doll, I- it’s been a while…” he apologized uncertainly.

Dawn shook her head. “S’ok… Why?” She asked after a moment.

“Why?” Bucky asked.

“Why so long? You could have any omega here- probably at least as far as the state of New York…” 

Bucky nuzzled behind her ear. “Well… I met an omega I want… can’t stop thinking about her… Haven’t wanted anyone else since...”

Dawn stiffened in his arms. “I- I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice full of regret and guilt, “I didn’t mean to make you- make you- cheat or-”

“It’s you, doll,” he told her. 

“I- ...huh?” She asked.

“It’s you. It’s been you since I first met you, Dawn,” he murmured, his lips grazing over her shoulder and neck. “Almost couldn’t stop myself from bonding you at the end there,” he admitted. “But I don’t wanna be like those other alphas; my dame is going to want to be my omega, and… I didn’t get the chance to ask- don’t know how you felt about me- it…” 

“I- I want it too, Bucky…” Dawn admitted shyly. “Since we first met… Wanted you to mark me right there in front of everyone…”

Bucky grinned against her and a happy rumble traveled through her body from his chest. 

“Next round, doll, I swear- if you’ll let me…” He murmured happily.

“Yes,” she told him. 

Another deep, happy rumble vibrated through them from his chest. “Then we have about ten minutes before I can pull out of you and give you a good time until-”

“Until my brain starts melting again?” She joked. 

Bucky chuckled. “Mmhm… Until I gotta push this big, alpha knot back into your little omega cunt,” he purred by her ear. 

“Bucky- that’s not fair- you can’t start talking dirty now- how will I last ten minutes with that?” She whined, feeling desire stirring in her belly. 

An amused sound rumbled in Bucky’s chest. “Don’t worry, doll, I’ll take care of you… Of course, I’m also going to make you beg for my knot before I’ll give it to you…” Dawn groaned needily. Bucky chuckled. “Only about eight minutes left,” he teased. 

TAG LIST

@lilypalmer1987 @pingu89 @gifsbysimplysonia @omnomsauruswrites @ria132love @slender--spirit @awkward-haux @shuriss @Ladifreakingda  @muggleluna @cauraphernelia @ravenclawmuggles @stonedxsoldier @rainbowkisses31 @racheo91 @mrsmookie @emilysallysmith @sebbystanlover-vk @Mybloodtypeiscoffee @Imnotcoolmasterrr @lillovin84 @leah2901 @igothroughphasesalot @letstalkaboutsebbaby @missinstantgratification @Ven9eance6661 @starkxpotts @a-book-pressed-rose @badassbaker @xxKimmilyxx @lookwhatyoumademequeue @kiki5283 @blingblingboy @stressedandbandobessed7771 @justanothermarvelfan01 @boo-ven9eance @songforhema @rororo06 @the-omni-princess @Ohshit-2500 @dibsonamericasass @yknott81 @isaacunderground @Animemarvelfangirl95 @thequeenreaders @viarogers @anamcg317 @trynnabemultifandom  @karla-silva @janndishsstuff @imeanshitithappens @tephi101 @keldachick @Randomfandompenguin  @mannls @screeching-student-unknown @lizfawn @ya-lyublu-tebya @their-bibliophile @Sebbestian @the-fifth-marauder03 @Jbstans

[thewalkingfanfictions]

I’m Not Gay -- Sam Winchester x Male!reader

I'm Not Gay — Sam Winchester x male!hunter!reader

Part One / Part Two

Description: Forced out of his motel room by his sister when she and a stranger burst through the door playing tongue wars, (Name) decides to go for walk, where he runs into Sam, tall, handsome, smart, and no, (Name) definitely doesn’t like guys, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Warning: Some internalized homophobia, references to sex, and some cussing. Supernatural-themed gore and violence (they fight vampires)

Genre: Fluff, I guess? A bit of angst in there somewhere probably, too, since I have no self control.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Male!Reader

A/N: I have no idea what the fuck this is. This is such a crack fic. Reader has a sister named Lidia, for reasons that I do not know.

Words without A/N: 2483

Masterlist

<———————>

"You sure you don't wanna come with, (name)?"

"No, Lidia, I'm just gonna stay here and research. 'Sides, socializing is for psychopaths."

Lidia (Last name); ninety-three pounds of redheaded sarcasm, anger issues, and badassery. Also my sister, senior to me by four years ("and three months, (name)!") Also, also, a total extrovert with a thing for trying to force her introverted little brother to socialize. Disgusting.

"C'mon, (nickname), you need to get laid! I could totally find you a pretty, butch boy and—"

"Lidia, for the last time, I'm not gay!"

For the last several years, my darling, amazing, delightful (taste the sarcasm?) big sis has been living under the (totally unfounded) belief that I am a homosexual. I don't know where she seems to have gotten that notion, as I am not. (Summer camp doesn't count, dammit!)

"Mhm, keep tellin' yourself that, lil' bro. But, fine, if you won't come with me–" she dramatically picked herself up from the seat where she'd been fancying up her makeup–"I guess I'll just have to go without you. How terrible, little old me, scared and alone, walking down the road after dark without someone to protect me," she pouted.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny. We both know you could kick anyone who tried to bother you's ass without even looking."

Giggling, she picked up her bag (and a few blades) and turned towards the door. Looking back at me one more time, she gave me a middle-fingered salute before about-facing and heading through to the outside.

"See ya later, loser," she called back before the door closed all the way.

Even though she was already gone, I still mumbled a quiet "punk" under my breath after her, before setting off to start my research.

————

Three hours, several coffee refills, a few dead ends, and one (minor) mental break down later, I was really no closer to finding the thing we were hunting, and there was a crash outside the hotel door.

Lidia had been out for a while, there was a chance it was just her returning from whatever bar she had gone to, shit faced and unable to walk correctly, therefore knocking something into the door or the like, or, my least favorite option, it was something supernatural or other here to kill me.

Moving to grab a gun, I silently stalk towards the window beside the door. There's a few more dull thuds on the door, and some odd, wounded-animal type noise comes through the wood. Cautiously, I move the curtain a few centimeters, just enough to peer through without being spotted.

There, pushed up against the door, is my sister, some idiot attached to her at the lips, with hands going places I'd rather not think about when it comes to my sibling.

Grimacing, I turn around, shove my gun into the waistline of my jeans, and move to quickly grab my laptop and a few books. Maybe if I hurry I can get out of here before they actually start fucking, this time.

Hurrying towards it, the door suddenly opens, and in spills a very shirtless (and totally not attractive, what?) man, and my sister, who was now working on pulling her bra off. They shuffle towards one of the beds, and somewhere in the back if my head I register that its my bed that they're going towards as I awkwardly move around them, trying not to alert them of my presence. I didn't wanna deal with that conversation again.

Finally getting all the way to the door, I carefully pulled it open as not to bother the two, and backed out of the doorway. Glancing up, I got a full view of Lidia's tit before I managed to actually get out of the door.

I quietly closed the door, making sure that the click of the hinges was quiet enough that it wouldn't disturb the couple inside.

Pausing for a second, I couldn't help the dramatic shiver that rattled my body.

"That is-- that is far more of her than I ever needed to see," I winced.

Turning to go find a place to settle down while my sister and the stranger... did their thing, I came face-to-face with a brick wall. Well, more face-to-chest, actually, and brick wall wasn't quite right, I guess. He was closer to a tank. Even at the few paces away from me that he stood, he still seemed incredibly tall. Long-ish brown hair curled around his ears, and his face was undoubtedly attractive. A small smile (that I definitely did not find adorable, I don't know what you're talking about, I'm totally, definitely, one hundred percent straight) tugged at full lips and his eyes stared down at me questioningly. I could feel an ugly blush climbing up my neck.

"Uh– heh, uhm, my, my– uh my–" my awkward stuttering was cut off when the man huffed a small laugh, and spoke.

"You must be the brother."

...

"Heh?" His smile only broadened at my perplexed stare and he took a few steps closer to me. I couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated by the guy's humongous stature, though his face seemed innocent and kind enough. Still, in my line of work, you can never be too careful. I instinctively felt my hand reach for the gun still hidden in my waistband.

"In, uh, in there," he pointed lightly at the door I'd just come out of, "my brother, he's the one with your sister. She was talking about a brother at her motel, I, uh, I guess that'd be you," he finished off, trailing out slightly as he realized he had nothing more to say. It was his turn to blush.

I let myself relax slightly, I didn't think he was so much of a threat anymore.

Smiling slightly, I couldn't not let my eyes glance over him.

Uh, in as purely heterosexual way, obviously.

His shoulders were stupidly broad, and under his denim coat I was sure there had to lay muscle. Before, when I said he was tall, I don't think you really got the full picture. The awning thing that came off the front of the hotel to protect anyone on the sidewalk was probably your standard seven foot high roof; this guys head was only a few inches under it. He was huge. His face was young, but had a whisper behind it that said that he'd seen some things someone his age generally didn't. The dimples on either side of that blindingly bright smile made him just so much more attractive, and I couldn't not find him cute. (Once again, in a totally hetero way, I'm really, definitely, completely Not Gay.)

Figuring that I couldn't stand there and gawk any longer without coming off as creepy, I finally spoke up.

"Uh, yeah, Lidia. And your brother. That was–" I shuddered slightly, "–that was a sight I never needed to see."

He chuckled slightly and took a few steps closer to me. I was still a bit wary, but I let him come closer without pulling a gun on him, anyway.

"Yeah, no, it's not pleasant. He's done the same thing to me before."

I blanched up at him (damn, he really is tall) and thought to the scene that was unraveling right inside the door. Didn't he say he was his brother? I mean, to each your own, but damn—

"No! No, not—" he cut off my train of thought, growing redder by the second. He took a few more steps forward until he was right in front of me, holding his hands up in surrender. "I mean— I meant barging into the room with a partner while I was still there like that, not-not that he's—not that he's done, done that—" I cut him off, wanting to end the poor babbling disasters misery.

Cracking a smile, I laugh gently at him and reach out to touch his arm and make him pause.

"Oh-oh, its okay, calm down man, I getcha, I getch—"

MOAN

My sisters pleasured voice cut me off and made me freeze up, my face burning red.

"Nope, nope, nopety nope nope nope, can we please go anywhere else and continue this conversation? Literally anywhere, oh my fuck, oh my—" I started walking before he could say anything, not wanting to have to suffer through another sound like that.

He chuckled again as I passed him and quickly caught up to me, reaching out to gently grab my arm before I got to far.

"My, uh– we could hang out in my room for a while. 'Till they're, ya know, done," he grimaced and nodded his head towards the room to the direct right of ours. He hadn't seemed dangerous so far, so I mean, why not?

I nodded hesitantly and let the man lead me into the room, noting the fact that his hand didn't leave my arm until the very last second.

He let me in first and closed the door softly behind us. I have never been so thankful that these walls were thicker than any other motel's walls in existence. If I focused hard enough, I could almost imagine that the faint moaning was just sound coming from the little box TV.

The room was set up pretty much the same as ours. The same, mildewy wallpaper, two twin sized mattresses on either side of the room with the same pale comforter tucked around a paper pillow. A few littler things did stick out to me, though. The pre packed buggout bags sitting right at the end of both beds, the laptop that sat on the bedside table with a bunch of papers laying haphazardly around it, a half-drank coffee cup sitting beside it. The scene seemed oddly familiar.

"My, uh," the man's voice cut off my searching eyes, "my name's Sam, by the way. I don't think I said that before." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and I definitely didn't find it cute. At all. Nope.

Sam. It fit him. I like it.

Smiling up at him, (and totally not noticing how his frame would almost take up the entire door frame that he stood beside) I opened my mouth to respond, only to be cut off again by a crash from the room next door and an even louder moan. I grimaced, the awkwardly smiled up at him once again.

"I'm (name), it's, uh, it's nice to meet ya?" How do people socialize again?

"Uh, yeah, nice to meet you, too." Well that's reassuring, at least he seems just about as nervous as I am.

He stepped forward a bit and awkwardly held his hand out to me, which I accepted with a small, close-lipped smile. The moment our skin made contact, I genuinely didn't want to let go. The warmth of his overly-large hand was intoxicating, and his touch made me oddly giddy.

Looking up into his eyes, I found, was a total mistake. A stunning mixture of smokey hazel and green, small flecks of honey dotted his iris'. His eyes seemed so deep. Seemed so much older than they really were, once again, like he'd seen far more in his life than an average man his age could ever claim. Not to be dramatic or anything, but he was absolutely captivating.

I don't really know how long we sat there and stared at each other, but by the time I finally realized how weird it probably was, and forced myself to look away, I was starting to feel a bit light headed. Let's blame that on lack of sleep and an excess of coffee, and not on whatever was causing my stomach to flutter so dangerously as it was.

"Heh," I looked down towards our feet, my face flushing dramatically. I'm sure by now I'm about as red as a baboons ass, and only flushing redder as I realized that he was still holding my hand.

"Uh-uhm, so, uh, Sam--" I stuttered pathetically, focussing on the hand that still held mine until he awkwardly let go. "--what, uh, what do you do for a living?"

And so the night kicked off just like that. Soon enough, we were both sat cross legged on the bed, sharing stories (all the ones that I could think of that didn't involve murder or monsters) and trading memories. I learned that he had planned to be a lawyer, and was almost done with his course when some unmentioned family drama popped up, and he had to take a sudden leave. I found out that he traveled for work with his brother (a sentence that seemed suspiciously familiar) and that he loved to read. He told me how his girlfriend had died in some terrible house fire only a few months before (my heart definitely didn't freeze up at the fact that he had a girlfriend, shut up) and that he still had nightmares about her. We talked for hours, and, unlike with most people, I never once got bored of it.

I really don't know how long we sat there and chatted, but, by the time the doorframe to the room was vomiting up a sweaty and slightly-drunk older brother, my eyes had started to sag with exhaustion.

"Wa-Sam-Who's this?" Dean (Sam had spoken of him frequently over the evening) slurred slightly, gazing at me with an almost accusatory look. Before I had the chance to respond, Sam was already up and talking, standing between us almost protectively.

"(Name). He's, uh, he's the little brother of the girl you...were with, tonight." He seemed uncertain at exactly what he was saying, but he got the point across.

Being as he was still standing guard in front of me like he was (why on earth was he doing that?), Dean had to lean around him to look at me, which made Sam fidget nervously, for some reason.

"Dean--"

"(Name), you should probably be headed back, it's getting kinda late and I'm sure your sisters wondering where you're at," Dean cut his brother off, leaning further around Sam to look at me. Not gonna lie, he kinda scared me. Standing, I moved to grab the things I'd escaped the room with earlier, and headed for the door, turning back to beckon Sam a good night, I caught sight of them staring at eachother like they were having a silent argument, and just darted out the door, instead of saying anything. Maybe we'd meet again one day.

The air was cold, and it had gotten very dark in the time that I was hidden away in the room with Sam. I walked briskly back to my own room, opened the door with my key, and hesitantly poked my head in, not wanting to wake my sister if she'd fallen asleep.

"So there  you are, (nickname), out getting some dick, were you?"

Ugh.

[saeyoungs-sunflower]

Hello! Anon who asked about Vanderwood here! I was just curious if you would be willing to write a fic for a Vanderwood x reader where when Seven pushes the reader away like in his route, she actually runs out of the apartment and into Vanderwood who was looking for Seven. Totally fine if you don’t want to or don’t feel comfortable with his character!

Hello my sweet Anon! Here it is, I really hope it’s ‘Vanderwood x MC’-ey enough...again I had never thought about writing this ship before but I gave it my best shot! :)

Look at Me (Vanderwood x MC)

Warnings: Description of anxiety/panic attack.

***

To be honest, she had had enough. She literally couldn’t do it anymore. She was done.

He didn’t need to adore her, he didn't need to shower her in compliments or kiss her goodnight. He didn't need to be in love with her, all he needed to be was kind. To tell her gently that he didn’t feel that way about her or that it’s complicated and but they would work something out. He needed to have not let her fall in love with him in the first place.

MC had gone far past angry at this point, to an extent where she couldn't feel anything at all.

Well, for a bit.

It hit her like a truck speeding round a corner. She was scrolling through the chatroom when her her palms started to sweat, then she couldn't even read the messages since her hand was shaking too much. What the…? The final straw was drawn when she felt like she was drowning in her own fear but burning at the same time. Her lungs were burning and her eyes pricked with tears. Every laboured breath didn’t feel like enough. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heart ringing in her ears, getting louder and louder as though they were footsteps chasing after her, getting closer and closer. Every nerve in her body told her to run, every instinct screamed at her that she was in danger, that she was running out of time.

She needed to get out.

MC burst out of her room, ignoring Seven’s vexed expression as she marched to the front door.

“Where on earth are you going?”

“Out,” she managed to squeak as she slammed the door.

Falling back against the closed door she tried to regain her breath, but it wasn't enough. She practically through herself down the stares in a desperate attempt to get outside. Once she was out of the building, she slid down the wall trying desperately to formulate some coherent thoughts, but it was hopeless.

The air felt thicker and heavier as the corners of her vision started to fade to black, until she heard a voice.

“Hey, look at me. I need you to do something for me, okay?”

***

For Christ’s sakes, it was the same every damn week.

What exactly was the point of having a phone if you never answer it? 707 was lucky he was so talented because Vanderwood was pulling his hair out when he would much rather pull the trigger on the kid.

He didn’t mean it, really. It just felt therapeutic to think it.

Vanderwood checked the streets before rounding the corner. Luckily, the street and building where he had tracked 707’s phone to seemed pretty much abandoned. For once he could probably make a normal entrance through the front-

He barely got to reach for the door handle when the whole door burst open. Vanderwood had already pulled out and aimed his gun by the time he could identify the culprit. Isn’t that the chick that 707 had been creepily watching for the past few days? Yeah, it was. He was sure of it, he'd seen plenty of her through the camera feed.

But boy, she did not seem happy.

Actually, that was a bit of an understatement. She was having a full-blown panic attack.

Surprisingly, he knew how to deal with these, since it was in the manual he was given from the agency for training new recruits. Panic attacks were more than common amongst the newbies, and usually, Vanderwood would just give them the tough treatment. They would have to learn, after all.

But despite his foul mood, Vanderwood was feeling pretty generous today. Probably because she was innocent. Probably because she would definitely pass out if he left her. Probably because she was beautiful.

Uh, no. Definitely not the last one. Not at all. Nope.

He slowly inched up to her and knelt by her side, taking off his glove and offering his hand to her, “Hey, look at me. I need you to do something for me, okay?” he said in the softest voice he could.

The woman’s wide eyes stared straight back into his, making his own heart rate quicken slightly. Focus, dumbass. “I need you take my hand, can you do that for me?”

After a few moments she managed to weakly raise her hand, but Vanderwood met her half way, gently enveloping her hand with his own, “Good, that’s really good. You can squeeze as hard as you need to. Now I need to watch my chest,” he suddenly felt a bit self-conscious, but swatted the thought away as quickly as it came, “I need you to try and match your breathing with the rise and fall of my chest. You’re alright, nothing will hurt you, I’m here okay? Just in…and out…in…and out…”

After a few minutes, the woman’s ragged breaths became slower, more controlled, indicating to Vanderwood that he could move on to the next step.

“That’s great, you’re doing really well. Could you do something else for me?” The woman hesitantly nodded. He continued, “Could you tell me your name?”

“MC,” the woman managed to say in between breaths.

“Okay, MC. My name’s Vanderwood. I’m here to help you, okay? Would you be able to name five things you can see right now?”

She stopped for a moment before shaking her head, her breaths starting to pickup speed again.

“I know it’s difficult, it’s okay. Just have a look around. Hey, it’s alright, you can open your eyes. See? Everything’s fine. I’m here, I’m not going to leave you.”

Her tears continued to run down her face but she managed to lift her head and look around. After a few gulps of air she croaked, “I can see a fence, a door…a sign, the road and…you.”

“Good job, you’re doing so well.” Usually, he would move on to sound, smell and then touch, but the area was so deserted that it would be too difficult for her to list sounds and smells and she was already making good progress, so he went straight to touch.

“One last thing, okay? What can you feel? Think about your whole body. In your hands, under your feet…what can you physically feel in this moment?”

“Um…I can feel the concrete under my feet, the wall against my back…umm the breeze on my face…and your hand.”

“Brilliant. See? Everything’s okay, you’re completely safe,” he said calmly as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She had done very well, he could tell that she was fighter, “Now, if you feel ready, do you want to tell me what happened?”

MC sniffed before wiping her tears with her sleeve, her other hand still firmly holding on to Vanderwood’s. Not that he minded.

“It’s pathetic, really. It's my fault anyway, I’m just a fool.”

“I dunno, anyone who runs away from that punk is pretty damn smart if you ask me.” She chuckled, but he could tell held no weight. He sat down next to her, “What did he do? If he’s being a prick I’ll take care of it. I have a taser.”

She chuckled again, more genuinely this time. Which was ironic, because this time he wasn't joking.

“He didn’t do anything. It’s nothing really…”

“Are you sure? Because what I just saw didn’t seem like ‘nothing’.”

MC tucked her hair behind her ear, exposing her neck, and Vanderwood could feel his cheeks heat up. Jesus Christ, pull yourself together man. How old are you? You would have thought you were fifteen years old considering you’re blushing at such a casual gesture. For goodness sake.

“It’s just a but of a wake up call when you spend your whole life thinking you're alone, and it’s confirmed by the one person in the world who made you feel like you weren’t.”

Vanderwood had to fight the urge to dart up the stairs, kick down the door and punch the fucker in the face. 707 was an idiot at the best of times, but for some reason this pissed Vanderwood off to no end. Here was this beautiful, gentle, sweet woman who wanted him, and he practically tore her apart. He understood why he did it, but there were still better ways go going about it.

Or, you know, maybe he shouldn't have opened his arms for her in the first place?

Vanderwood’s blood boiled.

“Listen,” he started, facing her now, “I know what he's doing his harsh, but trust me when I say he’s doing it because he genuinely cares about you,” she scoffed but he continued, “I’m serious. You’re probably sick of him saying that it’s for your own good, right? But it’s true, and I’m sorry to say that. You can't have loved ones in this field, because trust me, the consequences are much more painful than this…for both parties,” Vanderwood swallowed in an attempt to get rid of the lump forming in his throat. Now was not the time to get emotional. Now was not the time to remember. Then why could he not get the image of them out of his head?

She gave him a shy smile and squeezed his hand, “Thank you, Vanderwood. I really appreciate your kindness. And I’m sorry if me turning up slowed down Seven’s work and caused trouble for you…”

Vanderwood wanted to laugh. Was she really worrying about him in this situation? Wow, maybe 707 was right, maybe she really was an angel. “Nah, don't worry about it. He wouldn't have done the work anyway.”

They both laughed and sat in a comfortable silence for a few blissful moments, before MC’s phone rang, “Hello? I’m just outside…Because I can?…I’m a grown woman for crying out loud I can go outside if I want to…Fine! I'm coming back now, chill out!” she growled before she forcefully hung up.

An angel with an edge. Vanderwood fucking loved that.

“Well, it was great to finally meet you, MC, despite the circumstances,” he said as they stood up, “Listen, I wouldn't normally do this but I know what that idiot’s like so here’s my number. Call me if he gets out of line. Only emergencies though, okay?” he handed her a business card.

“Oh, thank you. But where are you going? Did you not come to see Seven?”

“Meh, it seems you both have enough on your plate so I’ll come back another time. But please ask him to answer his damn phone, if you say the boss is asking after him he won’t question you.”

“Noted,” she said with a smile. Then she launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his torso in a tight embrace, knocking the air out of Vanderwood’s lungs. “Thank you again, you've been a lifesaver.”

Ironic, but okay. After quickly recovering he wrapped his own arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He let his eyes flutter shut as he gave in to her warmth, and allowed himself to temporarily live in a world where he was allowed to do so. When was the last time he was hugged? When was the last time he felt cared for?

The fact that the feeling was so foreign hurt more than he cared to admit to himself, “No problem, now go before he turns the apartment upside looking for you.”

With an unrestrained laugh MC bounded towards the door, and Vanderwood had to force himself to turn and walk away from her. He didn't get far, though, before he heard her again, “Oh, and Vanderwood?”

“Hm?”

“Take care of yourself too…please.”  And then she disappeared into the building, and in all that time he spent watching her through the camera feed, he wondered how he had never truly seen her until now.

Vanderwood smiled despite himself, and sighed as he walked away from something he could never have.

“Oh, you're going to be trouble, aren't you?”

***

“What do you think you’re doing, MC? You do realise that there's a hacker on the loose, right? Or did you happen to forget that you were almost kidnapped and taken-“

“You know what, Luciel? I don't wanna hear it. I’m going to bed,” MC said evenly, catching the redhead off guard.

MC didn’t even take the moment to watch his facial features drop in surprise. She just went straight into the bedroom and slammed the door. She threw herself onto the bed with a huff and stared at the ceiling, letting her mind wonder.

She was so lucky that Vanderwood found her when he did, and that he was so gentle and generous towards her. He didn’t even know her, nor did she know him. But there he was, saving her from her own damn mind and sitting with her in a companionable silence like it was the most natural thing in the world. She could still feel the ghost of his hand in hers, his shoulder against her own, his smooth voice as he grounded her.

MC closed her eyes, her heart thumping away again in her chest. Although, she noted, it felt completely different than before. Then she chuckled to herself, amused by the situation she had found herself in and the ridiculousness of it all.

“So, I have a thing for secret agents, do I? How fucking inconvenient.”

***

There it is! I wanted to get this to you asap so I’m sorry if it’s rough! Any feedback or constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated! :)

Thank you again Anon for the request! <3

Masterlist

[dreamingofscully]

Grey Canyon 7/?

Rating: Current Chapter: PG, Series: up to Mature Categories: Western AU / MSR / WIP WC: 1450 / Total WC:  7.3k

Updated on Mondays and Fridays.

Thank you to @ceruleanmilieu​ for the beta ❤️ Tagging: @impulsive-astrophile​ @baronessblixen​ @suitablyaggrieved​ @gillywitch​ @today-in-fic​ (let me know if you want to be tagged when I post!)

all chapters in order: ao3 / tumblr

CH 1 / CH 2 / CH 3 / CH 4 / CH 5 / CH 6

CHAPTER 7: “New York”

Grey Canyon, Colorado 1885

Lunches in the dining room or kitchen, and dinners in her room had become customary. He brought her more journals, which she read into the night, staying up far too late and waking bleary-eyed and happy. It had been nearly a year since she’d been able to keep up on any new medical developments. Even though she knew she’d never get the chance to pursue a career in the field, reading about others’ work gave her a taste of her old life, reminding her of why she’d wanted to be a physician in the first place.

As happy as the articles made her, the darkness within her deepened by the same degree. That Mulder had known she’d want them made her pause and feel guilty. His friendship had been a comfort, something she didn’t know she needed. But how could friendship stay strong when it was one-sided? She tested him, poked fun at his stories, but walled herself off from anything deeper. Sooner, rather than later, she felt it would not be enough.

Would losing his friendship, an unbearable thought, be worse than sharing a part of herself that she’d buried so deeply, she felt belonged to a completely different person? Could she be the woman that she once was? The possibility of her former self re-emerging thrilled and terrified her.

It was dinner. He sat across from her, telling another story, trying to convince her of something mad. For once, she was only half-listening, lost in her thoughts of where this connection between them was going. She’d never been able to pretend very well, though, and Mulder noticed.

“You’re not listening, Dana,” he said. He wasn’t upset, even though she felt he had a right to be. “Story’s a bit too far-fetched, even for me I admit.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Mulder, I was just distracted.”

“Anything you care to share?” He smiled at her, his eyes soft and gentle. He never pushed, never tried to force anything out of her. Sometimes she wished he would.

The same old conversation, she thought. ‘No, I’m fine’, is your next line, Dana.

She found herself, instead, telling a story of her own.

“My father, he… was a captain in the navy, during the war,” she started, not quite believing she was telling him this. If she went far back enough, things weren’t so bad. “He’d distinguished himself, made a name for himself, despite being an immigrant.”

She looked out the window, at her own warped reflection in the frosted glass. The lamp painted her face in grotesque shadows. Her hands found the edge of her napkin, fraying the edges.

Swallowing, she continued. “He was able to use his influence to help his children get into good schools. I excelled. We were very close. I think… he was proud of me,” she paused, blinking back the threat of tears. “He died, about a year ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Mulder said, his hand reaching across to cover hers, stilling their restless movements.

“I’d been accepted into medical school, a rare thing for a woman,” she looked back at him. “New York—it is the very best and the very worst, at the same time.”

Mulder nodded, squeezed her hand, his focus giving her courage. She trusted him, not knowing why she should. Her father told her she’d had good instincts about people, recognizing almost immediately who had integrity, and who did not. Looking at Mulder now, she knew him, almost as much as she knew herself.

“My brothers. They didn’t do so well in school. They… got involved with different sorts of people. It was a vicious circle—they could not please their father by being smart or hard-working, so they tried to win him over by bringing home money obtained from more dishonest means. My father was aware of how these… groups preyed on those who were less fortunate. Their relationship only got worse. When he died…”

Dana withdrew her hand, clenched them underneath the table. It hurt to say the words, to allow the reality of what had happened to enter the air of this room, to add to the weight on Mulder’s already heavy shoulders by sharing her burden with him.

“Because I was an unmarried woman, they took control. I had no other recourse. They would not allow me to go to school. Instead, they said I was to marry.”

“But you wouldn’t,” Mulder leaned forward.

“The person—” she stopped. “I do not like to speak harshly, to judge, but the man they wanted to give me to was just the sort of person you would expect, given their type of dealings. I suspect I was meant to be payment. Their younger sister in exchange for more power, more money.” She spat the words out like venom. The anger she’d felt when she’d first realized what her brothers intended came back with equal strength.

“I thought I could reason with them. Perhaps I could be a doctor for their ‘organization’. I would have done anything, except they would not listen. They use violence and intimidation to do what they want, I could do nothing. There was no one else after Papa...”

Dana breathed heavily and covered herself with her shawl, overcome with a sudden chill, though the room was not cold. There, she’d done it, for good or ill. She’d run from her family, abandoned her life while he had chased ghosts for ten years in hopes to bring his own back together.

“So you find yourself here, in hiding? Playing school marm and nursemaid to a bunch of —”

“Mulder.”

“I’m sorry, I just...”

When she looked up at him again, his face, normally filled with amusement and softness and passion, was now like a stormcloud, staring off into the darkness of her room. It reminded her of his outburst in her room late at night, what seemed like so long ago.

“Your mother?” he said.

“She… could do nothing. She felt my choice to be a doctor was a mistake, that I should accept my duty to the family, and be a wife. That I should accept it without complaint,” she said. Guilt rose up inside her, thinking about her mother: they would not hurt her, would they? “I don't have a family any more, Mulder.”

He rose from his chair and paced. She could feel his anger coming off of him in waves, while she shivered in place, unmoving.

“There must be something—”

“I have learned to live with my fate, Mulder.”

“I don’t accept that,” he said, waving his hands around her modest room. “You deserve so much better than this.”

“Please, sit.”

He looked at her, saw her.

“You’re cold.” He brought over a quilt from her bed and laid it across her shoulders, rubbing his warm hands along her arms before crouching beside her. She let out a shaky breath, imagined she could see the water vapor apparating between them.

“I can see your mind working. Trying to think of something to do. Please, Mulder. It is too risky.”

“Are these people really that dangerous?”

She nodded, silently pleading with him.

He looked at her, reluctant but steady, then cupped her face. “I do not agree. But I promise.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. Warmth spread through her chest at his touch. She was so tired, but the weight of her secrets had been somewhat lightened, and his promise lifted her spirits. She chanced a smile when she opened her eyes.

“If all of this hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t have met. Perhaps this was all meant to be, fate… destiny,” she pressed her lips into his palm, and brought his hand down to her lap. “I will not pretend though. It was terrible, and difficult, and I have not shared everything.”

But I will, was her unspoken promise.

Mulder caressed her hands with his own, remaining close. The warm lamplight enhanced his features: his stubbled jaw, full lips, strong nose. She couldn’t help it, her hand rose to his mouth, caressed his bottom lip with her thumb. He froze, searched her eyes, his anger disappearing under her touch, replaced with something else. Something she recognized, that he’d awakened within her these past weeks as well.

<i>Yes</i>, she thought, willing herself to speak the words aloud, for her thoughts to reach into his mind.

Suddenly, he blinked, and shook his head. She dropped her hand back to her lap as he stood up, taking his things and moving to leave.

He turned before opening the door. “Thank you, Dana,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. “For telling me.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

He smiled, meeting her eyes with a shy smile. “Good night.”

[natasha-romanoff-deserved-better]

Children of Yesterday- Chapter Five

Summary:

Standing in front of him, are two more children, only slightly older than the one he had found. The blonde child was freakishly skinny with dark bags under his eyes, and was standing with another black-haired slightly taller child who had a bony arm wrapped around him.

The blonde was wearing an over-sized Captain America costume that drowned him, and the other only wearing a leather jacket with sleeves that covered his hands and fell to his knees.

Tony almost chokes.

The blonde in the Captain America costume. The black-haired child standing over him. The scared, timid kid on his hip with glasses and bruises.

He knows who these kids are.

.

After an accident with Hydra and the time stone, Tony and Rhodey are left with six of their teammates turned into young children. Trying to keep the six young, traumatized and rambunctious children safe all while finding a cure and attempting to give them a taste of a real childhood might be their biggest mission yet.

Continue reading below or click here to read on AO3! 

.

The car ride goes as well as any of them expected, with the six kids arguing over who got to sit where; who got the window seats, who got to choose what radio station they listened too, how hot or cold the car should be, and even who had the “best” seatbelt, whatever the hell that meant. Thankfully, they reached the tower within fifteen minutes, and the sight of it stunned all six into total silence.

“Whoa,” Clint breathes out, after several seconds of awe. “Coolest foster home ever!”

Tony doesn’t bother to correct him.

Tony and Pepper leave the car out front, Friday taking over control to direct it into the garage. Rhodey meets them inside, having flown his suit back.

“I confiscated all the weapons in the common areas. Or…. All the weapons I could find. You never know with…” He stops himself from saying Clint and Natasha’s names, realizing how much confusion it would create. “With those two.”  

“Rhodey, you are an absolutely savior.” Tony praises.

“I’ll go find everyone some pajamas from their rooms,” Pepper tells, frowning at the hospital clothing the kids were still wearing. “At least some old T-shirts would be better to sleep in, I’m sure.”

Tony stares at the kids. They stare back.

“Who’s tired?” They say nothing. “Right…well. You’re all going to sleep anyways. Because I know none of you got much before you Houdini-ed your way out of SHIELD.”

It had already been decided, wordlessly, that none of them would be spending the nights in their original adult rooms. The main worry had been Clint and Natasha and the sheer number of weapons they had hidden all over their quarters, but it would also be much easier to keep an eye on all of them if they were all on the same floor.

The tower had a floor consisting all of guest rooms- It had been a joke at first, mainly from his wild playboy days. Now, it was used for guests staying overnight, be it for parties, galas, or several day long conferences. It was usually the safest option for many, eliminating the need for hotels and allowing the meetings to take place with much more secrecy. Tony loaded them all into elevator and brought to them to the guest room floor.

Whether they were willing to admit it or not, it was obvious they were all tired. For one, Bruce couldn’t stop yawning every other minute or so, which would set off a chain reaction through all the kids. Sam and Clint were both rubbing their eyes, Steve and Bucky looked like they were about to drop dead. Even Natasha was showing signs of tiredness, her eyes drooping closed for split second before jerking back up.

Pepper meets them on the floor, holding old shirts that she passes out to each respective owner. After everyone has their shirts, Tony randomly assigns each their own room. Steve and Bucky completely ignore him and enter the same room.

After everyone is all settled into their rooms, Tony is headed towards the end of the hallway to the suite room when Natasha pokes her head out her door.

“You forgot about me.”

“What?” Tony’s brows furrow, trying to think what she could possibly mean. She simply holds out her wrist to him, an expectant look on her face. “Sorry, kiddo, but you’re gunna have to help me out here a bit more. What’s wrong?”

Natasha drops her arm in annoyance at his ignorance. “Handcuff?”

“Oh. No, Nat, god. No, no handcuffs.” Tony crouches to her level, hoping to get his point across. “You’re free to move around as you wish here. Got that?”

If the look on her face is anything to go off of, Natasha does not got it. Her nose is scrunched up and forehead creased slightly in confusion, but she still nods.

“Alright, good. I’m just going to be down in that room over there, so you can call me if you need anything at all, yeah?”

Natasha nods again, whispers a quiet “thank you, sir” and steps back into her room, leaving Tony dumbfounded in the hallway.

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

Tony closes the door, leaning his back against it. “Oh, god.” His hands come up to rub at his face.

From her side on their bed, Pepper lowers her book and raises an eyebrow at him.

“What the hell did I do, Pepper? What the fuck was I thinking?”

“You were thinking about their best interests—”

“Best interests,” He scoffs. “I’m me, Pep. I can’t take care of six kids! Hell, I can’t even take care of myself!” He runs his hands through his hair, grabbing tufts and pulling slighting. “Oh, god.”

“Tony- just breathe for a minute,”

“Fucking hell. What if something happens to them? It will be all my fault. What if they run away from me as well? Or if I crash the car while driving them somewhere? What if,- I don’t give them enough food and they starve and.. Oh god, I don’t even know if any of them have any food allergies or not? There’s no way Steve isn’t allergic to something. And these kids are way too smart for their age. You should have seen them on those tapes. Jesus Christ, I’m going to get them killed. There’s no doubt about it.”

“Tony.” Pepper demands. He looks up at her, panic written all over his face. She pulls back the silk sheets covering her and opens an arm in invitation. “Come here.”

Tony scrambles over to her, climbing up onto the bed and then her, resting his head on her chest. She pulls the covers back up over them, hugs him close. “I can’t do this, Pepper. I don’t know how to take care or interact with kids. Especially not kids with their backgrounds…. I don’t want to ruin them even more. That’s what I do. I ruin people.”

The last sentence, she knows, is a reference to his weapon making past, but also to Peter. She chooses to ignore it- they don’t need to go down that rabbit hole tonight- and keeps the focus on the team.

“The kids are going to be fine. They’re tough. And if god forbid anything does happen, we’ll get through it. The same as we do everything else. You have me. And Rhodey… And Happy, if Peter hasn’t given him one too many heart attacks yet.”

Tony snorts out a laugh at the mention of Happy and nuzzles deeper into his partner.

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

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea, Tony,” Pepper says, eyeing the children who are sitting at the table, happily munching on their breakfast of pancakes. It’s a stark difference from one hour prior, when Steve and Bucky had woken everyone up with their screaming after FRIDAY had said something to them.

(In retrospect, he probably should have mentioned the ceiling will talk back to you last night, but oh well.)

“We can just order clothes and whatever we need from online.”

She’s right- they could. It would be the easiest thing to do.

But Tony remembers his clothes as a kid. Always too itchy or rough or too soft, never the fun colors or designs like the other kids got to wear, never what he actually wanted. There had never been anyone around who could be bothered enough to take him to a store, to wait while he picked out his own things.

“I’m taking them.”

Pepper sighs. “Well just know you two are on your own.” She checks the time on her watch, a habit. “I have all kinds of things I need to settle, since it seems as if you’re going to be out of commission for a while.”

He knew she was right, even though he was tempted to beg her to come with. He and Rhodey only knew so much about kids, but she had seemed to have some kind of natural maternal instinct with them. He would be willing to bet his whole company that she would have no problem controlling the kids. But there were meetings, galas, conferences, so many things in his schedule that Pepper now that to cancel or reschedule or do herself.

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

The kids pour out of the cars as Tony stands aimlessly, staring at the building of the mall.

“Which stores even have kids clothing? I don’t know any of these names.”

Rhodey has beaten him to it, again, pulling out a google list on his phone. “Let’s start with… uh, that place.” He points some doors to his left, double checking the name of the store. “I don’t know. It’s a kid store and has five stars, so...”

“Good enough for me.”

They herd the kids the best they can towards the store, not wanting to lose anyone before the first ten minutes. Tony was about to just open the doors and turn the kids buck wild, but Rhodey stopped them all before entering.

“Okay, guys. Here’s the rules. You be nice to the employees, and don’t be disruptive. That means no screaming, yelling, fighting. None of that. And no leaving the store. You can go off by yourself within the store but don’t go out. Got it?” They all nod.

Tony adds on. “Yeah, what he said. But other then that just grab whatever you like and that fits. Price doesn’t matter, yeah?”

The kids run off in all different directions, each going towards whichever section caught their eye the most. He gives some time to run around by themselves, before going to check on them.

Bruce has stuck to mostly neutral colors, gray and brown sweaters hanging off his arms with the same pair of jeans hanging over his arm. Sam has gone ambitious, picking out shirts with the most obnoxious patterns and designs Tony has seen.

Steve and Bucky have each picked out a few things, but glancing at them, Tony can tell the clothes the two boys are holding are not their correct size.

“Those are way too big, you two. Do you know how to check sizes?”

“No, we know how.” Steve tells him, going red slightly. “It’s just that…it’s good to get bigger clothes. So you have room to grow.”

Realization dawns on Tony as he recalls this is most likely a symptom of being depression era kids.

“Steve, Bucky. Get your correct size. I promise I have more than enough money to buy more clothes the second either of you two grow an inch, okay?”

“How do you have so much money?” Bucky asks, but Steve shoves at his arm.

“Don’t be rude, Buck!”

“It’s not rude, I’m just asking!”

“Guys, it’s okay. Just trust me on this. Money won’t ever be an issue while you’re with me, alright? I want you to have things that fit you.” Deciding quickly to make it less about them and more himself, he adds, “It would really make me feel a lot better if you did that.”

That does it for them, and the pair returns the wrong sizing before moving to a completely different section to find the correct ones.

Checking in on Clint, he finds Natasha trailing after him several feet away, her arms empty. Tony frowns.

“Not finding anything you like, Nat?”

She shrugs.  

“Well. Why don’t you let me know what you like, and I can help you look?” She shrugs again. Wrapping her arms around her torso, she whispers something, too quiet for Tony to hear. “What?”

“I don’t know what I like. We do not choose clothes in Russia.”

“Oh. Right.” Of course she was confused. She had most likely never been given a choice of clothes before in her life. He racks his brain to try and think of what she might like. Black. Black was a safe option. He glances around himself for a few seconds before finding a plain black tank top and pulling it off the hanger. “What about this? It’s soft- here, feel it.”

Natasha tentatively reaches out a hand to run a small finger over the fabric, lips quirking up slightly at the smooth texture. Tony figures that’s the best he’s going to get from her and places the top into her hands.

He helps her pick out several other things. He tries other colors, but she seems to actively hate almost everything else. At one point, he pulls out a purple shirt, and she doesn’t sneer at the color like she has all the others, so he counts it as good enough and begins loading her up with purple things as well.

To the side, he can hear Rhodey speaking with Clint, suggesting Clint get some shirts other than graphic tees, and Clint’s flabbergasted “why would I do that?”

Once all the kids have each gathered a decent number of tops and bottoms, Tony and Rhodey gather them all up to pay for all the new clothing. Sam and Clint are both bouncing on the heels of their feet, trying and failing to contain their excitement at getting so many new clothes. Rhodey has the brilliant thought to distract Steve and Bucky when the cashier tells him the price for all the items, as to avoid a freak out from the two.

One store down, Tony and Rhodes steer the group into another child clothing store, hoping to load up on as much as possible in one trip. Tony prayed they were just being overly cautious, and his teammates would be back to normal before they had a chance to wear all their new outfits.

It’s going well, Tony assures himself- Steve and Bucky have gotten more confident after the first store and have amassed a good amount of clothes between the two of them, Bruce has decided to go a little more adventurous this time and pick a green long sleeved. Natasha only has one thing, but she picked it out all on her own. Sam and Clint are-

Not there.

Tony whips around, eyes scanning the store frantically for the two boys. He had just seen them, not even five minutes ago. They’re not on the floor. Not in the dressing rooms.

“Rhodey!” Tony calls loudly, ignoring the ugly look sent at him from a middle-aged woman. “Have you seen Clint and Sam? Please tell me you’ve seen them.”

Rhodey copies the same move Tony had done just seconds earlier, twists around to sweep the store, as if Tony just hadn’t looked hard enough.

“I knew I’d lose them eventually. Fuck.”

His glasses-FRIDAY- sensing his stress levels, points him to the east, signaling to him she had picked up the two’s heat signatures in that direction. Tony and Rhodey take off, the other four kids following closely at their heels.

FRIDAY directs them, and they end up in the Disney store, surrounded by bright lights and colors and children’s music blasting from the ceiling speakers. “Sam! Clint!” He calls out loudly, ignoring the stink eye he gets from a mother holding a snotty nosed sleeping baby in her arms. The two boys pop out from between some aisles, each holding several toys in their arms.

“Tony! Look what we found! Look how cool!” Sam runs up to show him the toys they had found. Clint hangs back slightly, eyeing Tony for a second before dejectedly placing the toys onto a rack near him. Tony watches this, feels a slight tug on his heart strings.

“Clint,” Clint’s eye shot back up to his, a trace of guilt in his face. “Pick them back up. You’re not in trouble.” Tony turns to the other four, who Rhodey is standing behind. “Why don’t you all go pick out some toys or stuffed animals you like, yeah?”

Steve and Bucky link hands and hurry over to the aisle with the dress up solider uniforms, while Natasha hesitates but makes her way over near Clint, who points out a Simba lion stuffie to her. She rolls the fluffy ears between her fingers, before smiling slightly and pulling it into her arms.

By the time they’re all finished, the pile of stuffed animals and toys on the cash register is absurd, but the beaming faces of his teammates make it worth it. Over the pile, the girl working the register flicks her eyes between Tony and Rhodey and the kids.

“They’re adorable,” she says, smiling at them. “Must be quite the handful with so many. Are they all yours?”

Tony snorts. “You’re telling me. And, uh, yeah. Mostly. Something like that,” He says, not quite sure exactly how to answer.

She nods, looking between the two adults again and smile growing bigger. “Well, I think it’s wonderful. I can’t believe there are some groups out there that would try and stop you two from adopting,”

“Hm?” Tony says, reaching into his wallet to pull out his black card, only half heartedly listening. “Oh yeah, for sure. We- wait, what?”

“Oh, I’m just saying, clearly you two are very loving dads.”

“Oh! Um,” Tony splutters, completely caught off guard. This is not what he was expecting to have to deal with today. Natasha trying to stab someone, sure. Steve somehow ending up in a hospital from a freak medical illness, fine. Clint climbing up a clothing rack, whatever. But not being mistaken for a gay couple with six children with his best friend.

Next to him, Rhodey is laughing. The bastard. Rhodey throws an arm around Tony’s shoulders and pulls him in, playing it up, and plants a sloppy kiss onto his cheek.

Thankfully, before Rhodey could pull anything else, the cashier scans the last stuffed animal and lets him know the final price. Tony happily pays it and hurries the kids out of the store, bags upon bags of new clothes and toys.

[enithinggoes]

The witch’s teachings, lesson 6: Some planning, some action

Lesson 6- Some planning, some action

The next weeks were full of urgency, I was attempting to gain as much mastery as possible over the benefits of my pact in a short timespan. My lessons with the witch turned mostly to this subject temporarily, I discovered I could see perfectly in the dark, and over much longer distances than ever before. With the right amont of focus, I could even perceive the surface thoughts in people’s minds, but I found that if they became aware of it they could obfuscate intentions with proper concentration, something that Morgana already seemed to have some experience with. She proposed that I try and combine my enhanced vision and mind-reading to read an opponent’s movements, though I was still not nearly fast enough to parry her strikes consistently with my dagger.

On the more direct side of things, if I envisioned myself manipulating an object a few translucent apendages of iridescent coloring, apparently invisible and intangible to others, would manifest and delicately follow my instructions, incredibly precise(I wager I could even sow some injuries as well as with my hands through them) though not very strong, unable to lift more than a few kilograms.

Once I had some control over these abilities we went on to gathering information to take down the duke, “He’s clearly not a complete stranger to magic if he could send a demon after me before, so we should know more about his capabilities before we strike”, explained my master, “so It’d be best to have a plan when we confront him.”

We commandeered another inquisitor wagon, and after defeating the knights on it, the driver was scared enough that even without the watcher’s powers he probably would have told us what he knew, still the insurance about his honesty was useful. Once we were done speaking to him, the witch told me to switch clothes with him, so I’d have a good disguise, and then we let him go, to flee to the nearest town.

While Morgana compared the wagon driver’s description of the Duke to what she had written down on different creatures and their characteristics, I decided it was time I had a talk with Lyssa. “Hi, seems like our next quest will be quite dangerous, are you nervous at all?”

She turned to me with a smirk, “to be frank, cat, not as much as you’d think. I mean, this is what I’ve been training for, right? Stopping the inquisition and taking down the people who think they can just kidnap and kill whoever they find threatening or strange. I’m happy the time seems to have come earlier than I expected.”

I chuckled, “alright, I have something to thank you for, I imagine it’s impossible you didn’t notice these.” I pointed to my changed eyes.

“Hey, if you didn’t want to tell me, felt there was no reason for me to ask,” she answered.

“Well, I don’t know what’s about to happen in the coming days, so I figured I should at least tell you where these come from, and also something about our master…” I explained to her my pact with the watcher, and the story behind master’s black hands and powers.

Lyssa seemed somewhat forlorn, she looked down and said “I see, so, she doesn’t trust me, thinks I’ll go mad for power huh?” Though her lips stayed rigidly straight, I guess she didn’t want to seem as bothered as she was.

I wanted to better explain my master’s thought process, and why she’d chosen to keep this information from Lyssa for the time being. “Look, I think she knows your heart is in the right place, and she trusts you enough to make you a powerful warrior. She might just not trust pacts in the first place, my encounter with the watcher was a complete accident. And she did plan to tell you so you’d be prepared, but she didn’t want you to seek it out.”

“I know!” she half-snapped at me, throwing the stick she was holding to the ground “ I just… I just don’t like her assuming I’d make those choices. Even if she didn’t see it as malice, she’s still thinking I’d make those mistakes and you wouldn’t.”

I didn’t know what to say, I couldn’t really refute her complaints at all, so I just tentatively put my arm on her shoulder and brought myself close, saying “I’m sorry.” As softly as I could. Her whole body was tense, like she’d gone into an instinctive defensive state without anything to fight against.

We sat there for a while, not saying anything, before she pat my back lightly. “Thanks, cat, for trusting me with this, you’re a good friend.”

Soon, Morgana came back, she seemed agitated, but at the same time there was an electricity to her, like the euphoria people could experience in moments of great danger, both of these feelings bubbled under the surface of her voice and gestures when she explained: “Alright, here’s what we know, duke Lucius has his inquisitors head out about once a month, they usually bring back 2-4 people, usually women, accused of some form of “witchcraft”, all but one are publically executed, one is taken into the castle to “repent” in the chambers. The duke attends the executions by but he doesn’t go out for anything other than that, he stays in his room during the day, signing treaties and writing laws, and demands to be left alone during the night,” she gave a knowing smirk, “You may already suspect this, but I’m quite certain we’re facing a vampire.”

The witch raised her left hand, putting her fingers up as she enumerated the steps of her plan. “Here’s what we’ll do: you, familiar, can take us in the stolen wagon into the town, keep your hat over your eyes and don’t let anyone get too close lest they notice too much. We’ll head to the castle in the late twilight, early enough that the duke won’t suspect the time of his “meal” but late enough that we may have the advantage of the rising sun on our side, I don’t think it’ll outright kill a powerful vampire, but it might weaken him. We’ll need to stop by some other town to grab some stakes, maybe a torch or two, he’ll be very adapted to darkness.”

Lyssa had clearly listened as intently as I had, though she still had questions, “alright, but what should we know about the vampire’s abilities, what should I watch out for?”

 “I’ve only heard stories of battles against vampires so I am not entirely sure, but I know he’ll have superhuman speed, reflexes and strenght, as well as limited shapeshifting and mind manipulation abilities, though if you both keep your focuses I’m sure it won’t be enough to control you, since I don’t intend to have you fight him directly, it’s too dangerous. I only need you two to distract anyone at the entrance so I may sneak in and confront him” answered Morgana, her expression becoming deadly serious by the final sentence, so I felt a bit too intimidated to argue.

I got up from where I was sitting, raising my hand timidly to ask, “alright, despite the vagueness of this plan, I don’t doubt your ability to defeat the duke, but are you sure this will solve everything? I mean, even if their true goal is just to feed the duke and keep anyone too wise down, doesn’t mean the inquisition will stop if he dies, the ideology used to justify it might live on  with  the people in power left, and we can’t just go around killing every member, they might total at the hundreds!”

The witch clenched her fists and her lips stiffened, as she turned away slightly for a moment before answering, “I can’t solve everything, truth is, the power vaccumm that will follow could have dire consequences. But the thing is, we can’t just let duke Lucius keep his power. Every month we delayed this would be another group of people slaughtered! He may even extend his reach to other communities like…” She clenched her teeth, though she’d stopped speaking I could clearly hear “Like he did with me.” After she composed herself a bit she continued, “the point is, I’m not sure what will happen after I take him down, but it’s gotta be better than this. We’ll figure it out from there, I’m sure people will eventually learn that the man was a parasite and these towns can and should run without him, if we train more witches there’ll be less reason to fear what’s out there and therefore less reason for people to blindly follow the inquisition. We can’t plan everything out beforehand, but we’re not going in blind either. You’ve both shown me that others can and will pick up the cause when given the chance.”

I nodded in agreement, and Lyssa said “let’s do this then, wipe him off the face of the Earth.”

“Thank you”, said Morgana, “and one more thing, familiar. I think you’ve learned enough to be your own witch, even without me from now on, so it’s time you get a name, what do you think of Cato?” she suggested with a proud smile.

I was surprised, but very happy, hearing that had made me realize how much I’d learned over my travels with the witch, and I wouldn’t hesitate to say that it was that moment that inspired me to compile her principal lessons in this text. When I answered her, my voice carried joy I’ve seldom felt in my life, and true appreciation for my teacher, “I’ll wear it proudly”.

[seriouslyhooked]

When We Collide (Part 1)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here. 

A/N: Hey everyone! Surprise! There’s a new fic I’m here to share with you all, and full disclosure, it is very different than my usual fare. You will be able to tell that from this first chapter, and for some of my readers it might be a bit too much. Not to worry, this is just a prologue of sorts, and next chapter will start in a brighter, more hopeful place (we will flash forward in time). Be advised that there is no graphic violence or anything like that, but the premise of this story involves Emma owing a debt to Gold (a mob boss in New York) that she has to pay. She’s working it off in a bar, but she’s not exactly free to go as she does. That’s a lot angstier of a situation than I ever like to deal with, so it’s temporary, but want to give you all the heads up just so you know. I suspect a lot of you will read this and think it’s not that bad, but I figure it’s best to give everyone the heads up. Anyway, I promise that this story will eventually be just as fluffy and feels-filled as my other stories, and I hope you’ll give it a try, even if you decide to skip this chapter and just join for the next. Also, just to shout out the excellent song that partially inspired this fic, you should all listen to the song ‘Collide’ by Tiana Major9 & EARTHGANG. It’s a really beautiful song, and I hope the fic can embody the feel of it as it continues to unfold. Thanks so much for reading, and hope you enjoy!

Maybe I’ll get lucky and everyone will forget I’m back here, Emma thought to herself as she counted up the bottles on the shelves, taking a quick inventory of what they had for the bar out front.

She also needed to keep this count to protect herself. She’d learned a few days into this gig that Gold’s men loved their liquor and they had a tendency to come back here and take it. Instead of letting them do that and then allowing her and her coworkers to take the blame, Emma came up with a system including locks on the door and an electronic documentation of what they had and when. There was no wifi hook up, obviously, as Gold made sure to keep a strict lock on their surroundings, but it did provide an timestamped trail that proved she was taking nothing from this place. Every night she cashed in her tips with Sydney, the bar’s ‘owner’ but really just Gold’s front man and lap dog, and she watched as the debt she owed grew smaller and smaller. In six more months she’d be free of this and she was doing anything and everything she could to shorten that time.

Thinking about her debt made a flare of anger rise in her belly. Truth was this wasn’t even her fucking debt, it was Lily’s, a woman Emma believed to be her friend. They’d met when they were still kids, both of them runaways, and though time had driven them apart, they reconnected when they realized they were both living in New York. Emma had managed to get steady, honest work and was doing her best to claw up from the nothing that she’d started with in life, and she thought Lily was doing the same. Boy had she been wrong.

It turned out that Lily didn’t pay her part of the rent with anything resembling clean money. She’d worked for Gold, and then she fucked him over and ran, leaving Emma none the wiser and thrust into the fallout of a crime she’d never committed. When that moment came Gold gave her two choices: pay off the money he was owed, or suffer a bit before accepting and still paying, but in a less desirable way. Emma chose the former, and she gave everything she had to the man, but it still wasn’t enough. Lily had managed to get off with almost 50k, and while that was chump change to Gold, it was more than double Emma’s savings. Still she’d promised to get him the money, to give him every paycheck she could, save for her rent and food expenses. But it didn’t satisfy the Crocodile, as people were prone to calling him. Gold decreed that she’d work in the bar and that was that. She’d also been ‘moved’ to one of the apartments above the place. But none of her actual belongings ever arrived. All she had was work uniforms and bare essentials. There was no TV, no phone, no nothing. She’d been graced with tattered linens, the most basic of household essentials (as in one plate, one fork, one of everything) and a bunch of dusty books on ranging topics left from tenants past. She also had a chip on her shoulder, created from the unjustness of this whole situation, pushing her to get out of this shit as fast as she could.

“Yo, Emma, you coming back at some point?” A voice asked from the doorway. It was one of her coworkers, a guy named August who she’d never had much to do with. He seemed pretty okay, but then again, he was here working for Gold and he didn’t even seem to have the whole debt-pay off factor going. That was a huge red flag, and one of the reasons Emma never trusted him much. “We got customers.”

“One minute,” she said, and waited until the door swung closed again. Knowing she was along she closed her eyes and took some steadying breaths, gearing up for what would no doubt be a terrible night.

It’s temporary. You just have a few more months. You’ve survived worse. You can survive this too.

When she felt strong enough to put her mask in place and face the raucous debauchery that awaited her outside, Emma squared her shoulders and headed out. Her eyes had to adjust quickly to the dimness of the lighting, and she took in the stronger scents of stale cigar smoke and piss that always clung to this place. No matter how much they cleaned after hours, there was no getting rid of the odor or the grime. This bar was better off burned to the ground and completely built over, but to the men who frequented it, this place was the closest thing they had to home. The Lair, as the neon sign outside advertised, was a total dive, and it was filled to the brim with low-rate mobsters and criminals.

This was one of those places that Hollywood constantly tried ripping off to no avail. In some ways it was completely corny and predictable, and so blatant in its criminal ties that it felt like a joke that everyone was in on. But the embellishments and adornments here were over the top and gaudy, too tacky even for a Las Vegas casino. Gold’s namesake was splashed everywhere, from the countertops to the barstools to the curtains on the back walls. When the finishing got gross and dirty, they’d be replaced, but the style was dated and straight out of the 70s. It was a mobster hideaway with no pretensions, and Emma always thought to herself that the cops should be busting in every night. This was an obvious den of misconduct, but no cops ever came. The reality was that Gold had half the police force in his pocket, and the other half were too scared to cross him for fear of what he’d bring down on them. Gold might be ridiculous and over the top, but he was powerful, and more than that he was smart, so smart Emma knew better than to ever try to run and think she could get away with it.

“Well, well, well. Ain’t you lookin good tonight, sweetheart?”

Emma fought the instinct to roll her eyes at the slurred and shouted words that crossed the bar top over to where she was standing. Two months into her captivity here, and Emma knew better than to let her baser instincts win out. Despite how gross this man was, and how underwhelming he was on any metric of attractiveness, Emma couldn’t cave to her want to blow him off. Doing so was a risk, and if she had any chance of surviving this hell hole, she could not afford to take those.

“What can I get you, Mr. Black?” Emma asked, ignoring the stench of sweat and booze that mingled with the man’s cheap aftershave. She looked at him for only a second before looking down again, knowing her best bet was to try and blend into the background and let these men set their sights on the women who actually wanted to be here.

“I’ll take a night in bed with you, darlin’.” Emma chocked down a gag but flashed an insincere smile as she shook her head.

“You know the rules, Black. I work for Gold in a strictly drink-serving capacity.”

“Damn waste if you ask me, putting talent like you up in the bar.”

A waste? Emma considered it a small miracle. Since the day that Gold’s men had swarmed her apartment with guns drawn, looking for Lily, Emma had been completely at the will of a monster. She knew from the second they apprehended her and brought her back here that she could be destined for anything. People talked about Gold in this city and there was no crime he was too good to partake in. He had brothels all over the place and a stake in the skin trade. He ran drugs and guns, made people disappear and black mailed anyone he could. He had no moral restrictions, and no love greater than the one had for money and control. He owned this city in almost every single way, and if he chose to, he could make her life even worse than it was now. So much worse. It sent a shiver up her spine to even contemplate some of the things she’d heard whispered about. But Gold, as dark and twisted as he was, did have a code, and he’d briefly explained it to her the night she was brought in.

“I’m a man who collects his debts, Miss Swan, but I am also a man who sees a whole story. You had nothing to do with Lily’s betrayal, I know this. You’re collateral damage, a source of collection through no fault of your own. The debt must be payed, but since you yourself have never wronged me, I’ll be good to you. You even think of crossing me, however, and you’ll live to regret it.”

Emma knew the truth when she heard it. Her gut was never wrong. Even with Lily, the problem wasn’t that Emma had missed her true colors, she’d just chosen to ignore the telltale signs of a problem person because she really had no other friends. She hoped that Lily may come around, that she’d get better and really try and make a go of things in an above board way, but with Gold there was no doubt as to the veracity of his threat. If he felt Emma was disloyal, he’d punish her, and if at the end of this there was any doubt that she’d turn on him, she would never be free. She had to be picture perfect in her actions. A pretty, polite prisoner who served their time and then kept silent. She was ready to do that, she just had to stick to her plan and keep her head up in the meantime.

As she made Mr. Black’s drink and got caught into the flow of the bar, serving men their beer and liquor until they all got drunk as hell, Emma counted down the seconds until the night would be over. She gathered her measly tips, and kept them guarded close, and she knew that tonight would be like every other. She was trapped here, in this darkness, destined to be unhappy but determined to survive. When she was free of this she’d go as far away from Gold’s hold as she could. She’d find a cabin somewhere, live a quiet kind of life, and she’d never put herself in this kind of position again. Her lesson had been learned – she could trust no one but herself, and though that was a totally lonely sensation, she had to try and accept it or risk hurting herself all over again down the line.

Suddenly, in the midst of the normal night’s activities, the front door blew open and Emma felt a tingling of anticipation when it did. She hadn’t looked in that direction all night long, never liking the people who would dare to enter here, but her instincts were screaming at her to turn around and look. She had no idea why, but when she obeyed the internal command, she was shocked into stillness, caught up in the sight of the man who’d just walked in.

Tall, dark, and fiercely handsome, this man was sin personified and so much better looking than the other thugs that came here every night. He didn’t look out of place though, aside from his attractiveness. The clothes he wore were made of leather and spoke to some dangerous intent. He made no show to hide the side arms he was carrying, one on his hip and one strapped across his chest, and the scowl on his face made him seem hard and unapproachable. For a moment, Emma had the chance to take him in, and despite the fierceness of his expression, she felt a flutter low in her stomach.

His chiseled jaw with the well-trimmed beard he had was hot, as was the symmetry of his features and the way his broad body clenched and she could see his muscles. But if someone were to ask her what stood out most about this mystery man it was his eyes. They were blue, like the ocean in places she’d only read about. They weren’t icy or cold, but warm somehow and so thoroughly enticing. She felt herself lost in them, and then he looked at her, their gazes connecting, and that sensation grew so much stronger. She felt a kind of pang echo through her ribcage the moment he took her in, and she watched as the hardness of his face shifted ever so slightly. It was a small tell, most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Emma did, and she knew that he felt this too. Whatever the hell this was – the man who’d just arrived was just as captive to it as she was.

“Ah, Captain, you’re here!” One of the regulars said, laughing and flailing about as only truly drunk men did. “Didn’t think we’d ever get you to The Lair. Thought you was too good for us.”

The man they called ‘Captain’ tore his gaze from Emma and moved over to the man who’d called him over. His stride was measured and almost graceful, and Emma couldn’t help but follow him with her eyes. This was so unlike her. She made it her business not to watch anyone too closely. The less she knew about what everyone was really up to the better, but she was intrigued by this newcomer in a way she’d never been before.

“Boss wants to see you, Alvin. Something about the McManus shipment.” Alvin blanched at the comment and swallowed harshly and Emma knew for certain that this man was in trouble with Gold. She didn’t have much sympathy for Alvin, and in fact most of her intention was focused on this stranger, who had the touch of an accent she couldn’t quite place. His voice was silky and low, tantalizing in a way, and she wanted to hear more of it. “Perhaps you’d like a drink for the road. Not sure when you’ll have the chance for another.”

“Bring them this,” Sydney said, materializing from nowhere next to Emma. She jumped at the unexpected intrusion into her thoughts, and looked at the two glasses.

“Is this rum?” she asked dumbly and Sydney nodded.

“The best. Captain likes the good stuff.”

“Right,” Emma said, moving over with the tray to the table where both men sat. When she got there, she was struck speechless again. Being so close to this man only added to the allure. He was even more interesting close up, and she lost her head a little bit at the sight of him, but tried to pull herself together as best he could. “Your drinks, gentlemen.”

Alvin took the drink and downed in, but the stranger took his time, glancing at her over the glass and nodding. He didn’t smile, but his eyes conveyed a warmth he’d shared with no one else here. “Thank you, love.”

Knowing she couldn’t linger, Emma moved back to the other tables, continuing her work, but when she noticed Alvin and the mysterious man standing up to go a few minutes later, she felt a dash of disappointment. He was leaving, and she didn’t even know his name.

Okay, seriously? What the hell Emma? He’s one of them. He works for Gold. You don’t care about him. You can’t care.

The voice in her head scolded her for her fanciful thinking and this completely mistimed attraction. It was so foolish to think of him as anything but a threat, but her heart lurched at the thought. She was overcome with these weird feelings. Being so drawn to a man so quickly had never been her style. Certainly not now when she was in survival mode. But as she turned around to fill a tray with empty glasses on one of the far tables, she felt a presence behind her. She whipped around too quickly, only to run into him, and if it hadn’t been for his steadying hands, one on her arm and the other on her tray, the glasses would have shattered.

“You all right, love?”

“Um,” she licked her lips as her eyes darted up to and she nodded once. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“Good. Just wanted to give you this,” he said, handing her a tip. It was generous. Like a couple hundred-dollar bills generous. It was way more than their drinks had been and way way more than she could ever accept. It felt wrong, but there was a part of her that was desperate to keep it. This would put her that much closer to freedom. It was almost a week she wouldn’t have to work. Still she pushed it back at him.

“I can’t. It’s too much.”

“It’s hardly enough,” he replied ardently and her brow furrowed as she looked at his face, the earnestness on it clear as day to her. “I know these men, love. There’s no way they give you what you’ve earned. Not tonight, not ever. So please, take it.”

“Okay,” she agreed after a moment’s hesitation, feeling gratified by the fact that she had earned this, even if he wasn’t the one who should have to pay. “Thanks…”

“Killian,” he filled in before she could decide to use the nickname that Alvin had called him by.

“Killian,” she repeated, tasting the name on her tongue and loving the way it felt as it passed through her lips. “I’m Emma, by the way.”

“Emma,” he replied with a grin that was there and gone so quickly she would have missed it as she blinked. As it was, she knew she saw it, and that look was even more breathtaking than the rest of him. No one had a right to be that sexy. No one. “Well, until next time, Emma.”

With that, he turned and walked away, cold and composed once more as he led Alvin out of the bar and headed off into the night. And though Emma knew very little about him, she had a feeling she’d just met someone very important. Through the mist of all the new emotions and excitement, she sensed, deep down, that this man – Killian – mattered, and that somehow, someway, their fates were intertwined, destined to lead them back to each other in one way or another.

Post-Note: So there we have it! This is a short glimpse into the fic, kind of like a prologue if you will. Next chapter will flash forward a bit, because this honestly was angsty enough for me to write. I do not want to dwell in the bad circumstances Emma finds herself in, and instead want to get us to a fluffier, if still a bit wilder place than I am used to. As the description says this will be an MC (motorcycle club) romance, and we’ll reveal how that will come to pass in the next few chapters. In the meantime, I would love to hear what you all think! This is a break away from my usual fare, and pretty much the opposite of the other fic I am currently writing, but I have wanted to write a story like this for a really long time. I’m eager to share the rest of this fic with you all, and hope you will join me on this fun new journey. Anyway, thanks for reading and hope you have a great rest of your day!

[dottoremostro]

Serendipity

The invitation, when it arrived, may have come as some surprise. Dr. Hannibal Lecter had gotten along amiably enough with Officer Graham when the latter had consulted him on the unpleasant case in Minnesota a few months earlier, but they would never be friends. It was true that Dr. Lecter saw something of himself in the earnest young investigator. Quickness of mind and keen observational skills, those were things they had in common. Graham shared, too, something of the doctor's whims--and his desire for power and control. Yet Dr. Lecter during their brief working relationship saw something else in him as well, something far less appealing: cowardice and a touch of self-loathing. This, frankly, bored him.

He had nevertheless worked with Graham, successfully at that. Dr. Lecter was by now somewhat renowned for his soirees and in particular his dinner parties. He loved playing the gracious host and got more of a thrill than he probably ought to have from seeing his name in the society columns. This year he was hosting the week before Christmas a modest holiday party--modest being only twenty-five guests--and had decided it would be the polite thing to invite Graham. It couldn't hurt to remain in the good graces of the FBI, at any rate.

“I only hope I’ve bought enough champagne,” he joked on the phone to his dear friend Rachel.

He and Rachel had once been lovers (well, maybe more than once), and a decade on she remained the closest thing he had to a confidant. He liked bouncing ideas for his gatherings off of her, not because he doubted his own taste but because he knew hers to be impeccable. He had no proof that Graham was a drinker, only his own instinct--and that was usually as trustworthy as Rachel’s good taste. The man disliked, even feared, his own nature. There were only so many ways to cope with that kind of thing without confronting it head-on.

So he sent the invitation, complete with a small note, to his one-time colleague: Dear Will, I hope you'll drop by for a bite to eat...

•   •   •

“‘...and a few drinks. Please feel free to bring a friend along. Regards, Hannibal Lecter.’”

Will looked up from the invitation with a broad smile, as if to say ta-da! He was a moderately handsome man approaching middle age, with the beginnings of lines around his eyes but none around his mouth or creasing his brow. His hair, which he wore a little shaggy most of the time, was a nondescript shade between dirty blonde and brown, but he kept his face clean-shaven like many cops and Bureau men. Also like other Bureau men, Will cut a trim figure despite standing at only 5′10″ or so. He stood now in front of his girlfriend, compared to whom he looked pretty damn tall. In his hand he brandished Dr. Lecter's invitation on its fine heavy cardstock almost proudly, almost as though it was a contest prize he had won.

Despite the disturbing end to the case in Minnesota, Will thought he had gotten on well with Dr. Lecter. He wasn't in any hurry to repeat the consultation, only because the last affair had been such an emotional drain. Being remembered with this invitation still tickled him, however. He had heard a thing or two in Baltimore about the swanky parties thrown by the socialite psychiatrist with whom he had worked.

It would be a great time to show off Clarice, he thought. Will wasn't a fool. Their relationship had never become official, something they'd named and acknowledged, despite how her clothes and shoes occupied his closet for the nights she stayed over. She was a catch, though. True, she had a temper and a tongue on her, but she was gorgeous and smart as a whip, and he had no doubt she'd outshine any vapid trussed-up women in the doctor's acquaintance. Even her ambitions were sexy. Not many women even considered the FBI Academy. Will encouraged her frequently--maybe even a little too much.

He grinned now into her delicate, almost elfin face and held out the invitation so that she could inspect it herself. The paper smelled very lightly of bergamot and cinnamon. Those must be traces left from the doctor's cologne. His script was at once bold and elegant. It curled in a lovely, old-fashioned way.

In the meantime, Will kicked off his shoes. He lived in a small house just outside of Arlington that was very much a bachelor pad. It wasn't totally trashed by any means, but it was often messy and was sparsely decorated at best. The fridge usually boasted take-out, some Cokes, and sometimes beer. Since he had a small yard he often talked about getting a dog but had yet to make good on that claim.

“It says ‘semi-formal,’ so hopefully we could both find something to wear without breaking the bank,” he said, flopping down on the sofa. “What do you think, babe?”

Will winced. Shit, Graham. Clarice preferred not to be called babe, and he did his best. About once a week, he made a concerted effort to call her by her name, only to drift back to pet names a few days later. 

Besides being perhaps overzealous about her potential career with the Bureau, this annoying little habit was his worst one as a casual boyfriend. He meant well, and he kissed well, too. So far, just a few months in, he hadn't pushed for more than she was willing to give, even though the sex had been great when they'd had it.

They had met in the park. Almost colliding with a beautiful woman on a running path was not exactly fairy tale material, Will knew, but he found the story charming anyway. He liked that Clarice was a runner not to look good or to stay in shape (that was why he ran) but because she enjoyed it. So far there wasn't much he didn't like about her. Clarice's arrival in his life had also helped him get over what had happened in Minnesota, so he was grateful to her on top of his admiration. Altogether he felt pretty damn lucky. It never even crossed his mind that he might stick out like a sore thumb at Hannibal Lecter's Christmas party.

[ourrightside]

10 Reasons Why Carrie Bradshaw Wasn’t THAT Bad...

Sex and the City is the most elite series I’ve ever watched - and I was so excited to purchase the first season when I turned 18.

I would listen to my mom and my sister gossip about the show when I was younger and feel so left out. But, my mom would refuse to let me watch it until I became an adult. Thank god.

Being an avid fan now, I sometimes scan through Sex and the City articles on the net, and can’t help but notice dozens of articles filled with ‘Carrie’ slander - which kind of makes me nervous.

Although it was true that years ago girls were labeling themselves as the ‘Carrie’, ‘Samantha’ and ‘Charlotte’ of the group - the serious and less glamorous friend got stuck with being a ‘Miranda’; it is kind of an insult now to be deemed as a Carrie. 

As we all matured, we realized that being a Miranda is amazing and we should all strive to be just as successful - but Carrie Bradshaw is still a valid character and I’m here to prove why the “sexual anthropologist” is not all that bad. 

Now before I dive into why I totally get Carrie Bradshaw, I would just like to point out before hand that I am aware that she is just a fictional character and hopefully you are too. If you are not informed, then I apologize for this harsh revelation. However, let’s continue. 

1. She was average looking

While we can all agree that her physique only gets stronger and leaner throughout the series, she was still not exactly perfect looking. Despite her fit body, she was not model like or necessarily tall. She did not have a perfect nose. She did not have the biggest ‘lady parts’. She did not have the plumiest lips. She did not have perfect facial symmetry.

But, she was okay with it. And has mentioned that by the age of 30, she was over being uncomfortable with her looks and decided to move on.

Despite constantly bumping into models and having to accept that men can be total “modelizers” - especially in the capital of the world aka manhattan, she chose to embrace her natural beauty, which in turn has allowed her to walk the runway in her underwear.

2. She was selfish 

Yes, the new trend is to be selfish and say no - because that is ‘self love’.

If that truly is the case, then there was no denying then that Carrie was selfish throughout the series.

As human beings, we are selfish by nature. But since we now identify ourselves in societies with expected norms and values, being selfish disqualifies you sometimes from your environment. To avoid being lonely, we try to let go of being selfish or at least hide our selfish traits.

Unfruitfully so, our selfish instincts at times fail us - exposing our true colors. And whenever that happens, people aren’t too afraid of pointing out what you did wrong. It doesn’t make us necessarily evil, just makes us human.

To avoid being Freudian in this post, let’s just sum up that Carrie is harmlessly selfish at times - that includes being late to every event, asking her friend Susan Sharon if she could trade in her cashmere sweater birthday gift for cash, accepting a pair of 600$ shoes from her other super rich friend, and cutting off Charlotte’s possible infertility problem discussion to talk about her Manolos.

The list goes on, I mean - this is just classic Bradshaw behavior. However, this character cannot be deemed as bad. She was just under the spotlight, and if we were under it too, we would find out that we do have these moments as well without realizing it. We are not perfect. However, Carrie does reflect on her mistakes often, which is something we should be doing more. 

Sometimes, her selfish tendencies can really get out of hand. 

It was not okay when she got angry at Charlotte who did not offer to lend her money after she blew it all off on Manolo Blahnik shoes instead of rent. It was not okay when she threw away Aiden down the drain. It was not okay when she slept with a married man, even if it was ‘Mr. Big’.

We cannot shame her though because we all have hidden skeletons in our closets...it’s up to you however to peak in and see which faults make it or break it for you. 

3. She was a working woman 

No offense to chastity ball princess Charlotte, who wanted to be a housewife to any rich man who crossed path with her, Carrie Bradshaw was by all means an ‘all star’ business woman. Despite being unconventional unlike Samantha Jones (PR executive) and Miranda Hobbes (Harvard-graduate Lawyer), Carrie Bradshaw was a restless woman that worked in multiple fields all at once despite being so undermined.

She had so many tasks to tackle all at once while juggling multiple projects. She ran around between the fields of Journalism, Content Marketing and Public Relations. She was able to get invited into all the ‘fabulous’ events and meetings because of the hard work she invested in all by herself as a freelancer who lived in a huge place like New York. Carrie finally reached her goal at the age of 40, which was working at Vogue. She even wrote multiple books as well.

4. She was unconventional

Despite the show running in the early 90s, Carrie Bradshaw decided to be a sex columnist. She never gave up on her weird unconventional job and was proud of her career despite the looks or comments people would make. She had a weird exterior in addition to how upfront she was about the physical makings of life.

In addition, Carrie did not believe in marriage until she became a fiancée at the age of 40. She traded in a ring for a pair of shoes and a walk-in closet, unlike most women, who would rather get married in their mid 20 to early 30s with a huge rock on their finger. 

5. She was struggling at adulting

Carrie Bradshaw had a deluded concept of adulting that at least most of us had or still struggle with. She was not a healthy adult with financial stability and a well thought out regime. However, she still managed to be fabulous.

She had poor dieting habits, which made her sometimes skip dinner to buy Vogue instead. She believed that shopping and gossiping were the best types of cardio. She was not the cleanest and had a messy apartment at most times. She did not care about the way her living space looked like, which she later on freaked out about in fear of being judged as an imperfect adult according to Mr Big. She paid so much on shoes that she could no longer afford her rent. She believed that investments must be seen in her closet. She drank at least six dollars worth of coffee per day. She would smoke and drink way too much for a thirty year old woman.

6. She was a good friend

Carrie Bradshaw had so many friends that it almost put her PR bestie Samantha to shame. To be honest, Carrie may have not been a perfect friend, but she was as good as it gets realistically.

What made her so realistic in her friendships was her ability to be there for most of her friends’ hardships. She had her ups and downs with her empowered female group because sometimes they would feel like she was too problematic and vice versa. For the most part, it is impossible to be as passionate to your friends as you once were the first time you guys met. But what makes a friend a good one is that they never voluntarily try to find excuses to leave you behind.

Carrie’s love towards her friends in her good and bad times showed that she valued them like family. 

7. She was lost

Carrie was probably more lost than she would have liked to be. She had a tendency to dwell on what should have been and could have been. We all have regrets and sometimes she voiced hers out more than other characters within the show. She would sometimes yearn over the years that passed by her. She even went to extremes such as dating a college boy just to remember what it was like to ‘just kiss’. Rookie Mistake, Carrie.

Just like Carrie, as time goes by at any age, we look back at the spur of events that created our timeline and take note sometimes of which events we deem as either life-changing, traumatizing or both.

8. She was experimental 

She may not have been as promiscuous as her friend Samantha, but she was unarguably adventurous in all aspects of her life. Although the most obvious aspect may have been her outfits, her wild colors and funny textural accessories were just a preview on how eccentric Carrie Bradshaw truly was. She mentioned that her younger years were a genuine pursuit of fun in every shape or form, which most twenty-something-year-olds cannot deny.

She emphasized that she fears living life as a cautious person because of the hurt she has endured. However, she truly defined throughout the show what it means to be eccentric, empowering the ones who fail the experiments of life to get back on their feet. 

9. She was flawed

Carrie Bradshaw believed in the glass half full rather than half empty throughout the series. Despite being unbearably flawed to the point where her friends no longer wanted to listen to her problems, she decided to see a shrink which is something that would have been especially socially-unacceptable in the 90s. Carrie still overcame her mental issues and found other remedies which in turn has led her into accepting the way things played out. 

As we grow up, we, like Carrie, need a little bit of help in order to realize that temporary issues will fade away into lessons and the permanent ones that are out of our control can be accessorized into our lives accordingly to the way that we want it to look like.

10. She was in love

Her love towards Mr Big was illogical - almost completely insane. But what made her character so special was the fact that she never continued her relationship with Aiden because she knew deep down that it was Mr Big all along and never gave up on it; despite all the signs that kept telling her that he was bad for her. He was at the time indeed bad news, which made her feelings towards him fluctuate between love and hate.

Now, the psychology behind her and Mr Big does not justify why you should call your ex right now so put your phone down, but it is something to think about. 

Carrie took the road not taken for most women, especially during the 90s where gender roles in love where still a bit rigid. While it is true that it is always easier to date lovers who make the effort to chase you rather than pursuing it yourself, the easiness does not create the ‘fairytale love’ that most of us strive for.

Carrie once described her love towards him as a crash rather than a crush. But if something deep down is telling you that someone is your person, shouldn’t that account for something? Shouldn’t we all just go for ‘ ridiculous, inconvenient, time-consuming can’t-live-without-each-other love’, and get it right just like she did?

- Nina xx (yasminasayyid)