#I had just about 2k more minutes this year than last so yay for mental health improvement

[kindahoping4forever]

And everyone gasped

(no one was surprised, not even a little)

[thedamageofherdays]

This week's (16-08-2021 - 22-08-2021) reading log is here. This week's reading log is super duper long and filled with lots of good things (my apologies for the long post, I really could not find a good spot to do a read more). I discovered some new favourites and re-read some old favourites and while I had an intense week personally at least the fics I read were absolutely phenomenal. I do recommend checking out the warnings as some fics are a bit heavier/angstier and you might wanna be prepared. Most of these fics are Stucky but there are a couple of other ships in between.

If you are looking for more fun and/or good things make sure to check out the @marveldisabilitycelebration as well to see all the awesome art, fics, meta, etcetera people created! And while I am mentioning events I am a mod for let me also just quickly mention that sign-ups for the @stuckygiftexchange are still open until the end of the month <3

Favourites are marked with a 🌻 Fics that are only available to AO3 users are marked with a 🔒 and Tumblr fics are marked with a 🍀

🌻 The Bends by dreamsinthewitchouse @dreamsinthewitchouse [Danbeau, side Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Memory is not a house you can just walk back into after finding the key you thought you’d lost. It’s a thing you wade into and out of, rewriting it as it rewrites you.

It’s not without its rewards, either - recovering a memory about Maria and Monica, about her life, feels better than socking a thousand bad guys in the face, better than all the photon blasts in the world.

Then again, realising there’s still memories she can’t access, even after all this time, feels like drowning in space.

Not the one out there - the one inside her.

🌻 Sweet & Salty by musette22 @musette22 [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Idiots in love. That's it. That's the fic.

When life gives you lemons by moonythejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 34k words, Explicit] (11/15 chapters)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

🍀 SamRhodey Tumblr Fic by ipoiledi [SamRhodey, ? words, Teen?]

“Wilson, this is Rhodey; Rhodey, Wilson,” Tony Stark says, and suddenly some six foot tall sexy guy is shoved right in front of Sam, and they both stumble a little, bumping into each other. This is a crowded party. “You guys have things in common, right?” Stark asks. “Uh, Army stuff. Talk about that. I hate wallflowers; stop wallflowering and talk to each other.”

Shorteralls by moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 6k words, Explicit]

The first time Bucky ever saw Steve Rogers, he was struck by how Neanderthal-like his response was. It was immediately followed by a bout of mental scolding. The second time was just about the same. The third time, it was actually appropriate for Bucky to start a conversation with him, at which point he was determined to be the gentleman.

No such luck. Steve Rogers is, always has been and always will be, a relentless flirt. These days, Bucky's Neanderthal-ist feelings about Steve are consensual and highly appreciated. More so now that they're having a baby.

what the fuck are perfect places anyway by tigerlilycorinne [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Steve clears his throat and stands. “Well, I should head in. I might want to begin packing.”

Bucky stills. “You won’t,” he says, trying to sound commanding. It only comes out uncertain. “Don’t.”

Steve shakes his head. “Maybe not tonight,” he says, and Bucky knows they’ll be discussing this again soon.

“Then stay. Play… play cards with me or something.”

Steve’s eyebrows jump up, his mouth tugging up in another of his bemused smiles that do things to Bucky’s insides, but he drops his hand from the doorway and steps back into Bucky’s room. Somehow, Bucky feels as if he’s won—not the war, just the battle.

Steve won’t stay forever. But he’ll stay for cards.

Steve and Bucky, on the run after Civil War (with a few alterations to canon), are laying low in Wakanda. But they can’t stay there forever.

🌻 honestly thought i’d be dead by now, but what you can trust is that i need your touch by moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 105k words, Explicit]

Bucky is 37 years old; he’s unmarried, hasn’t had a Sub of his own, is definitely not ripped, comfortable at his job as an Advanced Practice RN at Brooklyn General ER, and just got his Five Years coin from AA.

Steve is 26 years old; he’s unmarried, his last and only Dom has Alzheimer's, he's worryingly muscular, uncomfortable in his job as the government’s poster Alpha for masculinity and strength, and worries more than he should about his BMI.

Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky meet initially in a not-cute moment. Bucky’s tired as shit thanks to the sudden alien invasion that shook New York and Steve is tired as shit because he hasn’t slept more than 20 minutes at a time in – well, since 1936, probably. Bucky’s Alpha instincts get irritated at the sudden presence of another "Alpha" into his territory and Steve’s suppressed submissive tendencies latch onto this grumpy bachelor Alpha and he only suppresses it further.

Bucky’s grumpiness and Steve’s duckling impressionism aside, both of them are a mess. But since both of them are a mess? Their messes seem to fit pretty well together.

Deep Sea Diving by Aida Ronan [Stucky, 5k words, Explicit]

Steve's wallowing in heat-related misery under a shade tree in Central Park when a man walks by in bright red booty shorts and a crop top. RIP Steve Rogers. It was nice knowing you.

honey, make this easy by steebadore [Stucky, 8k words, Explicit]

Bucky likes the way he looks. His silk button up with the tiny gold polka dots feels soft on his skin and is tailored perfectly; no pulling at his chest or belly. His hair falls in shiny dark waves and his skin is smooth and dewy. He looks expensive. He looks taken care of. He looks like Steve’s.

🌻 let's take it back to the start by howdoyousleep @howdoyousleep3 [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

How it all began.

This sleepwalking through my life. by barthelme [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

The internet is an interesting place and when Bucky came home (or, when he came to live with Steve), Steve did a lot of research. Apparently, it’s not safe to wake a sleepwalker. He assumes that waking a sleepwalker with traumatic dreams and PTSD is beyond just being frowned upon.

And he tells himself--has told himself--that this is safer for Bucky. That if he were to stop him and wake him up, that Bucky would be mortified to be slurping on his best friend’s cock. That all of the improvements he’s made would be lost, would be repressed, would be just--

They’d be back at square one.

So he lets Bucky do it.

🌻 the way i've been craving by howdoyousleep [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

"Lunch break at 12:30. My office. Hope you’re hungry…"

It’s the ellipsis that sends Bucky’s insides swimming warmly, his heart beating twice as fast against his ribs where he sits in class. Senator Rogers is concise, direct, to the point. Without an ellipsis this is lunch, this is a meeting. With it though?

This is a booty call.

nasty but classy by howdoyousleep [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

“No, you don’t have to know the purpose, that doesn’t matter. Nat showed me this challenge where couples drink a lot of wine and get drunk together but they can’t touch each other. And whoever touches the other first has to...has to give the other head.”

🌻 Put It on Repeat, It Stays the Same by giselleslash [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Steve and Bucky have a one night stand that turns into a friends with benefits situation. A weekend snowed in at Bucky’s apartment brings to light how much that really doesn’t suit either one of them.

Greetings to the New Brunette by victoria_p (musesfool) [Stucky, 10k words, General]

"You said he should have a hobby. That it would help."

"I meant, like, knitting or coin collecting. Motocross, if he was feeling antsy. A baby's not a hobby. It's lifetime commitment."

🌻 Rogers & Barnes: Partners by triedunture [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky have to pose as a couple for a mission. Nat insists it really is the only option. She's checked.

The complication: unbeknownst to even Natasha, Steve and Bucky's friendship has been rocky ever since Bucky confessed his tender feelings and Steve left him out in the cold. Can asexual, completely-in-love-with-his-angry-best-friend Steve complete the mission and win Bucky's heart?

(The answer is yes. Yay!)

this will be our year (took a long time to come) by biblionerd07 [Stucky, 4k words, General]

Bucky's therapist is worried he's using Steve as a crutch and wants him to try going on outings without Steve. It wouldn't be terrible, honestly, if Bucky could just manage to open his mouth and say something to Steve.

I'll hold my breath by Little_Lottie (tfwatson) [Stucky, 8k words, Mature]

Sometimes Bucky’s hands flex in Steve's direction. Neither of them knows exactly why, but at least one of them has a hunch.

Bucky touches everything but Steve, even though Steve is all he really wants to touch.

Start from the Beginning by Mumble_Bee [Stucky, 13k words, Explicit]

What about a sex pollen fic where the pollen-ed one doesn’t remember getting hit in the face with a sex flower, and wakes up midway through the depollenating?

Or: the one where Steve wakes up on his back with a stranger buried balls-deep in his ass.

Match by emphasisonem [Stucky, 4k words, Mature]

The situation’s actually kind of funny from the right perspective, Bucky thinks as he reads the message for what feels like the hundredth time. He’s finally matched with a hot, funny guy. Tall and broad and clean cut. An absolutely breathtaking smile. Bucky’s walking wet dream. And he’s good. They haven’t messaged on the app, but Bucky already knows him.

He knows him because Steve Rogers is an art history professor at his university. His art history professor.

Best friends and married since childhood by StuckySituation [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Inspired by @/peterssquill's post in tumblr: "bucky and steve got married on the playground when they were like eight and though neither of them would ever admit it to anyone, even each other, they still consider it official"

~♥~ ♥~ ♥~

“Natasha, stop trying to set me up with every woman you meet, I’m-”

“Too shy? Too scared?”

“No, I’m-”

“Too busy? You’re mostly retired these days, not a good excuse anymore.” Natasha smirks and then drawls: “Or just too gay?”

Steve flushes at that, even if isn’t true -- he’s bisexual, not gay. “Let it go, Nat, I’m not looking for anything. I’m already married, for fuck’s sake.”

Clearly not what she expected. “What.”

Steve grimaces. He didn’t mean to tell anyone that, ever.

“Sorry, can’t talk about it right now!” he says and jumps out of the plane.

Nobody Should Be Alone on a Holiday by emphasisonem [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

“So, um-” Bucky begins speaking again, pulling Steve from his less-than-work-appropriate thoughts. The brunet has shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark slacks, and he’s shifting from one foot to the other as he smiles shyly. “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot,” Steve grins, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his broad chest. Bucky swallows deeply as one of his hands comes up to pull at the collar of his button-up, and Steve can’t help following the motion of his Adam’s apple.

“I was, uh-” Bucky continues- “That is, I heard you don’t have Thanksgiving plans?”

In which Bucky finds out that Steve's going to be alone on Thanksgiving and invites his coworker to spend the holiday with him.

🌻 It's Been A Long Season Through by thiccbuckybarnes @thiccbuckybarnesfic [Stucky, 49k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes is in desperate need of a change in scenery, which is why he makes the foolhardy decision to quit his job, leave his asshole of a fiance, pack up his life, and move to his grandfather’s old farm all within a single day.

He expects confusion, hardship, and maybe even failure. But love? He wasn’t expecting that.

--

Or, a Stucky Stardew Valley AU that nobody but me wanted and that’s ok.

oh, peach pit, where'd the hours go? by thiccbuckybarnes [Stucky, 10k words, Explicit]

Can't see the forest for the trees.

--

Or, Steve learns that just because he and Bucky got their happily ever after, it doesn’t mean the past won’t come back to bite them.

I'll find my way by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 725 words, Teen]

Steve had watched Bucky fall, and nothing had been the same since.

AU-gust day 19: Daemons

special delivery by glim @glim [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

It's not that Steve's bad at taking care of himself when he gets sick; he just wishes he didn't have to all the time.

At least he can order most of what he needs online. That's some small comfort, that he can have soup and ice cream and everything else brought to his door.

at first chance i'd take the bed warmed by the body by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 8k words, Explicit]

This close, Steve can see exactly how beautiful his hands are. He’s never really noticed before, or at least he’s never really had a reason to notice, but the man’s hands are large, tanned like he works outside all day. There’s an endearing callus on the heel of one of his palms, and Steve can’t quite work out when calluses became endearing.

Steve pauses the video. Swallows hard. Casts his eyes around for anything that’ll keep his mind off the hands on his screen, off the words inked into those hands, the delicate shape of a bird’s wing, the curling edge of a vine.

He looks down. The name of the channel is right there, blaring the man’s name right into Steve’s brain until it feels like he’s known it all along.

Bucky Barnes.

OR: the one where Bucky's a youtuber who solves puzzles on camera, and steve's smitten and horny

🌻 Rock On! by millesable @marvelousescapism [Clintasha, 700 words, General]

“Hey, Romanoff!”

He lifted his hand, index finger and pinky finger raised, thumb out, all other fingers tucked. Their secret sign; their confession for the world to see, safe in the knowledge that the world wasn’t listening.

“Rock on!”

🌻 You Like the Way I Look by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

Bucky sidles up to him, hand boldly coming to rest on his chest. “What about you, big guy? Care for a dance?” Steve watches Bucky’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction, somehow already knowing he’s got Steve on the hook.

A decade out of the ice, Steve Rogers returns to New York. Reeling from a battle against the Chitauri, a night with the troublesome Bucky Barnes might be just what he needs.

Join the Rebellion by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 765 words, Teen]

Bucky knew he shouldn't be out after curfew, but he couldn't resist the urge. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew it was where he wanted to be.

AU-gust day 20: Dystopia

🔒 Five Days in December by mywingsareonwheels @mywingsareonwheels [Evanstan, 4k words, Teen]

“Shit shit shit shit...” muttered Chris to himself, glad that the sound of piped Christmas carols was drowning out his swearing amid the picture books. Most of the store was heaving even though it was Sunday, he’d been recognised at least three times, finding presents for all of his nieces and nephews was proving far more of a headache than expected, and he’d just sent a pile of copies of "Strictly No Elephants" tumbling off the bookshelf.

He scrambled about trying to pick them all up, and then dropped them again as someone bumped right into his backside. He lost his balance, caught himself against a bookcase, and a landslide of "Carter Is a Painter’s Cat" joined "Strictly No Elephants" on the floor. He yelped.

“Ah fuck, I’m so sorry… Chris!”

* * * * * * * * * *

London, December 2021. Amid cats, books, and the cold English drizzle, Chris finds everything he was hoping for and thought he would never have.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Reaching for Fire by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit]

Bucky has always felt a fire in his heart (and other body parts) when it came to his boss, Steve Rogers, but he's made sure to never feed those flames. When he finds out about Steve's second job, though, he's tempted to let that fire out.

i've been dreaming of a face like yours by thiccbuckybarnes [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

Bucky is about to busy himself with making a small dinner for himself when he stops in his tracks at the figure drinking a cup of coffee in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and smirking at him.

It’s Steve.

“Surprise, sweet boy,” he says before setting his cup down.

--

Or, PWP reunion sex

🌻 Somewhere, Under Your Skin by thiccbuckybarnes [Stucky, 16k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes treats himself to a one-night stand after having a very bad no good day.

The sex is good--great, even. Might be the best sex of his life.

But Bucky wouldn’t have slept with the guy if he had known that he was going to continuously run into him every day for the next fucking month.

--

Or, a Big Grump Bucky has a hot one night stand with a college kid who is popping up everywhere in his everyday life and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

(Written for HYBB Bingo Square: Grumpy Bucky)

i've played heartstrings before but not in your key by thiccbuckybarnes [Stucky, 11k words, Explicit]

He glances down, seeing a folded couple of papers, before peering up at Bucky. The older man is biting his bottom lip, making it pretty and red. Steve wants to run his tongue across where his teeth are digging into his flesh.

"What's this?" Steve asks, setting his phone down, emails forgotten. Bucky shrugs and looks away.

"I dunno. You tell me, genius," he says, sounding bratty enough that it makes Steve's dick twitch in his pants. Jesus, there has to be something wrong with him.

Steve glances once more at Bucky, who now has his arms crossed against his chest and is pointedly not looking at Steve, before picking up the stack of folded papers. He opens them, seeing a collection of maybe five or six sheets of paper. His eyes immediately land on the list of familiar words with negative next to each one. -- Or, Steve Rogers is a jealous, possessive little shit that wants nothing more than to mark up his boyfriend and stake his claim. And Bucky knows it. (And he likes it.)

🌻 I'm Home (With You) by BonkyBornes @padfoot-and-the-marauders [Stucky, 2k words, General]

In any other circumstance, the apartment would've been perfect. But it was today, and the fact that he was here meant he wasn’t out searching. He knew they hadn’t had any leads for weeks and he knew Natasha was right; all three of them were exhausted and a break would do them good. It just felt wrong to Steve that he was comfortable while Bucky was still out there—somewhere. Probably cold. Probably hungry.

The knock came again. Sighing, Steve unwrapped his hand from the dog tags and remembered how to move. Cold wind and snow greeted him when he opened the door. The solitary figure was walking down the steps, collar popped against the chill.

“Did you need something?” he called.

The person stopped. They were still. And then they turned. *

Or, the Christmas Steve deserved after Winter Soldier.

The portrait by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 915 words, General]

Steve Rogers has a Gift. He can help people find their soulmates, all he needs is some art supplies, a quiet place, and eye contact.

AU-gust day 21: soulmates

Maybe A Muse by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 2k words, Mature]

When Bucky Barnes needs extra money, he’s appalled that his best friends think he should become a model for the art department on campus. Shy, nerdy, and socially awkward, he’s not sure that’s something he feels comfortable doing. Still, he needs money, and he likes the idea of becoming someone’s muse. The problem is he had no idea two things would happen. First, one of the students in the class is exactly his type; second, he has to model nude.

[searchingwardrobes]

It’s Been . . . a DAY 1/3

Yeah, I've got WIPs, but yeah, this came to me. My oldest, years ago, had to pee really bad and NO ONE would let me use their bathroom. An insurance office, of all places, took pity on me, and my kid proceeded to pee on their bathroom floor. I burst into tears, and the woman there hugged me and told me how her kids peed in all kinds of places when they were potty training. The people were so nice, they refused to let me clean it up. I've never forgotten that act of kindness, and I likely never will. So that's the inspiration for this story which will have three parts.

Summary: Emma Swan bursts into Killian's life in spectacular fashion - when her three year old pees on his office floor. Nevertheless, Killian is mesmerized by this tenacious woman. Perhaps fate will let them cross paths again . . .

Rated: G

Words: Just shy of 2k

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @kmomof4  @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @xhookswenchx @teamhook @let-it-raines @winterbythesea @spartanguard @shireness-says @superchocovian @thesschesthair @resident-of-storybrooke @vvbooklady1256 @hookedonapirate @ultraluckycatnd @hollyethecurious @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @bethacaciakay @optomisticgirl @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @ekr032-blog-blog @itsfabianadocarmo @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite​ (sorry if I forgot anyone - I am really tired right now!)

Chapter One: 

“Can we use your bathroom, please?”

Jones & Jones Accounting Firm isn’t your stereotypical lifeless, silent establishment, just as the Jones brothers don’t look like your stereotypical accountants. Nevertheless, the frazzled blonde bursts in upon a moment of intense concentration. It’s tax season, after all. Killian takes in said blonde, her hair a wild disarray and tension in her shoulders. She’s clearly not having the best day. A squirming three year old grips her hand, doing what Liam and Elsa always call “the potty dance.”

All four employees of Jones & Jones (it technically should be Jones, Jones, & Jones, but Elsa said that was far too pretentious) hurriedly assure the woman, “yes, yes, of course,” leaping to their feet, hovering, oozing politeness, and pointing to the end of the hall to the facilities. The woman practically weeps in relief.

“Pee pee now, Mama!” the child cries, and his mother scoops him up, holding him out in front of her as she races for the toilet. It’s another maneuver Killian is familiar with thanks to Liam and Elsa - or his nephew, to be more specific.

The blonde - he really wants to know her name - sets the boy down in front of the toilet. In her haste she doesn’t even bother to shut the door.

It’s too late.

Before she can even get the child’s pants down, a yellow puddle is spreading at his feet.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasps to the adults still unhelpfully hovering.

Then she starts ugly crying. Somehow, Killian knows this is out of character for her.

The boy begins to cry in earnest too. Liam and Elsa race off, most likely to take care of this, as the only two adults at Jones & Jones with kids. Ariel, who knows nothing about personal space and has never met a stranger, puts a comforting arm around the blonde.

“It’s okay, lass,” Killian assures, “really.”

“How can it be okay? We burst in here and peed on your floor!”

Killian bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling or pointing out that only the lad did the actual peeing.

Liam appears with a roll of paper towels and a mop. “Accidents happen,” he tells the young mother cheerfully. “Potty training?”

“Yes!” the woman practically wails. “He’s three, so I know we should be done -“

“Ours is three too,” Elsa interrupts as she pushes a stack of clothes into her arms, “and he still has accidents. Which is why I have a spare set of clothes in my desk drawer.”

“Oh, spare clothes,” the woman mutters, shuffling through the massive bag slung over one shoulder. “Shit, he peed on those yesterday.”

He continues to sob as Liam lifts him out of his yellow puddle.

“So take these,” Elsa insists once again. “My name is Elsa, by the way.”

“Emma,” the blonde answers with a trembling chin as she takes the clothes, “and I never fall apart like this with strangers.” She chuckles sardonically. “Hell, I don’t do it with people I do know, but we’ve just had the worst time. Henry said he had to go, but every shop on this street said no when I begged for a bathroom. I was trying to buy him a pair of shoes. I mean, who the hell opens a kids��� thrift store and doesn’t put in a public bathroom?”

Killian once again bites his lip at the heat in her voice. He believes her when she insists that she rarely falls apart. She’s feisty and tough as nails - no question.

“Well,” Liam says, stuffing the wastebasket with sodden paper towels, “I’ve gotten most of it so you can change your lad out of his wet things. I’ll mop up when you’re done.”

Emma looks at each of them in turn, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. “Why are you all being so nice?”

It’s clear from the way she says it that kindness has been rare in her life. It makes Killian wonder about the boy’s father. She isn’t wearing a ring, but that doesn’t mean the man isn’t around. Whoever he is, he’s done nothing to ease that look of mistrust in her eyes.

“Because it’s clear you’re having a rough day,” Killian tells her gently, “and we’ve all been there.”

“Some of us literally,” quips Liam, and Elsa laughs.

“Your office was the sixth place I tried,” Emma whispers. “I never would have asked to use a bathroom in a business office if I wasn’t desperate.”

The boy - Henry - is still sniffling. “Was I a bad boy, Mama?”

“Oh baby, no,” Emma croons, falling to her knees before her son. “Even a big person might have had an accident holding it as long as you had to.”

Her soft voice melts the little boy, and he collapses wearily into his mother’s arms for comfort. Emma obliges, heedless of the child’s smelly dampness. She’s a good mother, that’s clear. The businesses on this street however? Killian clenches his jaw as he mentally ticks them off: the thrift store Emma had mentioned, a sporting goods store, a ladies boutique, a children’s book store, a jewelry store, and then Jones & Jones. Every single one had no reason to deny the desperate mother and child an exception to their “employees only” restrooms.

“Next time, love,” Killian says to the resilient mother before him, “you just stride right back to the bathroom no matter what they say.”

“Yeah,” Ariel agrees, anger flashing in her eyes, “I understand why they might not want a public bathroom, but surely they could see it was an emergency.”

“You just tell them it’s either let you use their bathroom or your kid’s gonna pee right on their floor,” Elsa grumbles. She’s clearly pissed - pun completely intended - or she wouldn’t have spoken with such poor diction.

Emma laughs, her face more at ease than it has been since she arrived. “I’ll remember that next time. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“And potty training is definitely a desperate time,” Liam commiserates.

They leave Emma and Henry alone then so she can change his clothes. When mother and son exit the bathroom, they both look much calmer.

“I can’t say thank you enough,” Emma tells them. “I’ll come back by tomorrow to return the clothes.”

Elsa waves away her offer. “No worries. Those are pretty worse for wear. Ian won’t miss them, I promise.”

“Ian Jones, I’m guessing?” Emma asks. “That’s a nice name.”

“It’s a nickname, actually,” Liam tells her from where he’s mopping the bathroom. “He’s named after this git of a brother, over here.”

“Oi, but you did name him after me, didn’t you?” Killian shoots back.

“Nickname, huh?” Emma asks with a tilt of her head and a teasing smile. “Short for . . . ?”

“Killian.” Is it just his imagination, or is she flirting with him? “Killian Jones.”

He extends his hand, and she takes it.

“Emma Swan.”

A last name! His heart soars. “It suits you.”

Emma’s smile brightens even as she rolls her eyes. No, it isn’t his imagination - she is flirting. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Only the ones with kids who pee in my office.”

She tilts her head back and lets out a full-throated laugh. It does something to his heart - makes it expand or something equally cheesy. Her cheeks are pink as she looks at him while tugging at the ends of her hair.

“So . . . um, I still feel kind of bad about that.” Her nose wrinkles, and he notices the light dusting of freckles there.

“Well, you could make it up to us by staying and having dinner. It will be here any minute: sub sandwiches and practically a whole salad bar. Ariel always orders way too much.”

“It’s better than running low!” the redhead snaps indignantly.

His smile wavers as he watches a shadow pass over Emma’s face, dimming her eyes. It’s as if he’s watched a wall fall back into place. She shuffles her feet, and ducks her head. Henry meets her gaze, popping a thumb into his mouth.

“I . . . um, think this is a Happy Meal kinda night - right kid?”

“Yay!” Henry cheers, bounding up and down in that jerky way toddlers always have. “Ticken nuggets!”

“Chicken nuggets,” Emma corrects.

“Dat’s what I say,” Henry retorts with a frown.

Killian catches the boys gaze and winks at him. The boy giggles before popping his thumb back in his mouth. Then Killian regards Emma again, weighing the risk of his next question, but he has to know.

“His father is expecting dinner too, perhaps?”

Emma’s eyes narrow, and it’s clear he’s made a serious tactical error. “He certainly isn’t expecting it from me, wherever the hell he is.”

Killian ducks his head. “Apologies, lass.”

Emma sucks in a breath, then lets it out slowly. When she speaks again, it’s with measured calm.

“I thank all of you again, but we really need to go.”

They all talk over one another assuring Emma that it was no trouble at all, but she practically dashes out the door. When it closes, sadness sweeps over Killian at the thought that he’ll probably never see her again.

“Well, you sure mucked that up, little brother.”

Killian glowers at Liam. “Shut it.”

“Leave him alone, babe,” Elsa admonishes gently. “He had to find some way to make sure he wasn’t flirting with a woman who was already taken.”

“You think she was flirting?” Killian asks.

Ariel snorts. “Please. For a minute there, she was practically melting at your feet.”

Killian groans as he runs a hand over his face. “You’re right Liam. I mucked it up.”

“I don’t think so,” Elsa muses, her gaze drifting to the door Emma Swan had just exited. “I think her walls flew back up before you probed about Henry’s dad.”

Killian sinks dejectedly into his desk chair. “And now I’ll probably never see her again.”

“So what?” Liam shoves the mop back into the broom closet before heading back to his own desk. “You only talked to her for like ten minutes.”

“There was an instant connection, though.” Ariel clasps her hands together and practically swoons.

“And you never know,” adds Elsa, “the two of you may cross paths again.”

Killian frowns as he stares at the spreadsheets on his computer screen. He hasn’t been immediately affected by a woman in this manner since Milah. Liam’s right - it’s foolish to read much into their brief meeting.

Yet he can’t help hoping that he’ll see Emma Swan again.

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Cold and empty (2/2)

Warning: More Angst, but also the promised fluff. Also one (1) corny joke that is not at all funny Wordcount: ~2k Summary: Now that the world knows about your biggest secret you fret that the life you knew will now change forever. Is there any way left to fix things?

Part 1 When you woke up, you were alone. What greeted you when you opened your eyes was the white ceiling of the hospital room that you quickly identified. The memories of what happened flooded your mind and your hand immediately wandered towards your stomach. You felt the rough material of the gauze wrapped around you and you expected a sharp pain to shoot through you. Nothing. You frowned when you noticed that your whole body was numb and you felt slightly out of touch with your body and your mind. What was going on? you asked yourself and looked around the room. The door to the hospital floor was closed and the window beside it was hidden behind the blinds, and the room itself was completely empty except the medical machinery and the lone chair beside the bed you laid on. Then your gaze landed on the window that was on the opposite side of the room. The first sunrays of the day shone through it and coloured the sky in the astonishing colours of dawn. How long have you been out? was the first question that filled the foggy space that was your mind. You had no sense of time at that moment. You closed your eyes to clear some of the confusion and daze you were in when you realized the extent of the situation. There had been police In your house, the pack had been at your house... There was no way they wouldn't know about your situation now. What now? The authorities now knew that you were a minor without any guardian. You were surely done for. Should you just leave, try to run away, make your own way. The thought had your heartbeat quickening in nervousness and fright. Leaving your pack? The people you loved and who loved you? Being completely on your own? Before you could make any sense of the thousands of thoughts that started to fly around in your head the door opened and Melissa came rushing inside, stopping at your side and taking your hand in her. "Shhh, it's okay. You're okay. Everything is fine, don't be scared. I know you're confused," she calmingly muttered to you while stroking her thumb over the back of your hand. Slowly, but surely your heartbeat calmed down. "Do you remember what happened?" she asked, carefully looking at you from where she kneeled beside you. "Y-yes," you weakly crooked out, only now realizing how vulnerable your voice was and how hard it was to speak. "That's good," she mumbled while standing up again and looking at the machinery surrounding you, "You really frightened us all big time. You were in the operation room for almost 12 hours. The bullet pierced through your stomach so we were all quite worried about if you would make it, but it's all okay now. You'll be in pain for a while, right now you're still full off pain killers so you won't feel much anyway, but as soon as that wears off, you'll be quite uncomfortable." You absentmindedly listened to her and nodded your head, your gaze now fixed on a spot at the wall behind her. "In fact, there are quite a few people waiting for you out there," she nodded at the door and smiled. You immediately looked at her. "Why do you look so confused, did you think they'd just leave you here alone? Oh no, they've been bugging me and the other nurses and doctors for hours about seeing you and nothing could get them to leave," she chuckled lightly before looking serious again, "do you think you're in a condition to see anyone?"

The entire group of well over ten people (including peter) were sitting, standing and lying in the waiting area on your floor, all of them anxious and worried. Melissa had already told them that you'd make it and that you were stable, but only minutes later she had rushed over to your room, making them even more worried than they had been before. After they had left, Scott and his entourage of angry, straight out furious, wolves/coyotes/chimeras followed the all too apparent scent of the man who had done that to you. It had taken only minutes for them to find him driving away from the city, the speed of his car nothing against the raging pace of your friends. They crashed his car and dragged him to the police station, Scott having his hands full with keeping his betas from ripping him apart (even though he couldn't deny that he wanted to do it himself too). After, they immediately joined Derek, Stiles, Lydia and (to their surprise) Peter in the hospital who updated them on your current condition and the status of your surgery. And then they waited. Except for the occasional toilet-, coffee-, or snack-run, they stayed where they were now and anxiously sat there, with worry painted on their faces. Finally, Melissa came back, looking calm enough for the pack to slightly calm down. "Is she-" "Yes, she's okay," answered Melissa the question of her Son before he could finish it and carefully gave him a smile. "She's awake and I had a quick talk with her and explained the situation-" she started but was almost immediately interrupted by Liam. "Can we see her?" Melissa sighed but kept her calm. "She told me she is okay with visitors, but at the moment I think we shouldn't overdo it. Three people at most and only for a few minutes. The pack shared looks while they silently contemplated who would be the first group who would be able to see you. The eyes quickly landed on Derek who had nervously been pacing through the space between the chairs for hours and clearly was still shaken by seeing you like that and having to sit beside you while he couldn't do anything to help you except making the pain a bit more bearable. "Derek and I will go," Scott stated, using his Alpha-status for his advantage, "and I think Lydia should come as well, she's her best friend after all." A few growls could be heard throughout the group, but no-one disagreed, leaving Lydia, Scott and Derek to follow Melissa to the room at the end of the hall which they knew belonged to you.

Standing in front of it, Derek's hand laid on the door handle, halting for a moment. He was mentally preparing for what could wait behind it, the shock of almost losing you still sitting deep, but when he felt Scott's eyes in his back he took a deep breath and opened the door. There you laid, your gaze was fixed on the window, but when you heard the steps, you looked up to the small group that had entered. When you saw Derek your eyes lit up with happiness and excitement like they always did, and it made Derek almost think that everything was okay, but then your face fell and your eyes avoided looking at your friends. For a minute the room was filled with silence when no one knew what to do or to say. It was Lydia who managed to ease the tension a bit when she walked over to your bed and sat down on the lone chair and took your hand. "Hey," she said, smiling when you finally looked at her. "Hey," you chuckled and intertwined your fingers with her. "How are you feeling?" "I feel like someone shot me," you giggled slightly, hoping that your bad joke would somehow ease the mood, but all you received were stares of horror. "Come on guys, I just almost died, can you at least laugh at my terrible jokes? I mean you won't be hearing a lot of them after that," you whispered the last part, forgetting for a moment that you were- in fact- in a room with two werewolves who basically had superhearing. "What do you mean?" Scott came forward, now standing beside your bed on the opposite side of where Lydia sat. You flinched a bit but sighed defeated. "Don't play dumb... you've seen my house," you tried to shrug, but the first sign of the pain-killers wearing off made you still your movements. "So it's true? Your aunt is gone?" "Yes. Has been for almost a year now. I mean we weren't exactly close so... I was fine. I managed," your tone was laced with defence and you averted your eyes again. "But the Sheriff said that your accounts-" "I had that all calculated okay... I had a plan. I mean sure, my life wouldn't exactly have been the dream of a teenage girl, but I would have ensured that I had another year or so with you guys and now..." your voice wavered and a sob shook your body, a warning about the emotional storm that was about to follow for you. You soon realized that crying after being shot in the stomach wasn't exactly a pleasurable experience and you had trouble trying to hide the excruciating pain that filled you with ever sob. Suddenly it stopped. It felt like all your pain wandered away from your body through the hand that wasn't held by Lydia and you looked down to find a big, rough hand grab it. You followed the black veins that were wandering his arm up and found Derek looking at you with sad, worried eyes. You wanted to say something, anything, but before you could, Lydia interrupted you and you had to tear your eyes away from Dereks. "Why would anything change now?" her voice seemed genuinely clueless and you had to hold back a sigh. "I'm a minor without a guardian who lied to the government for the last year. I can hope that the whole 'faking signatures' thing doesn't end me in jail or in any other legal trouble, but-" "Noah will never let that happen! And if it comes to the worst-case scenario, I'll even call my dad so that he pulls some strings," interrupted Scott frantically, not waiting for what was to follow. "I don't doubt that," you smiled and shrugged a bit, "but... still. They still have to report that my aunt is dead and that I'm alone with the CPS. And then, I'll have to enter the fun roller coaster of the foster care system for teenagers. Yay me!" You saw that Scott wanted to interrupt again but you continued talking before he could. "And even if not, what then. The American health care system is shit if I even get to keep the money that's still in my aunts accounts, then it's gone after I paid the bills for this," I nodded towards my new wound, both my hands still occupied. "So yeah, my only options are pitch, sulphur or wolfsbane..."   "No," blurted Derek who hasn't said anything since he entered the room. "What?" you asked and looked at him confused. "None of this is going to happen. You're neither going to end in jail, in foster care or on the street." "What! How?" "I'll adopt you!" he exclaimed with complete confidence and nodded his head. Silence. You looked up at him with wide eyes. Hope started to fill your heart, but then your sense of reality returned. "It's not funny to joke about something like that," you muttered and tried to let go of his hand, but he just gripped on tighter which would've hurt you if he wasn't still taking your pain away. "I'm not joking Y/N/N." Derek's voice was softer than Scott or Lydia had ever heard and he used the nickname he was so adamant about keeping a secret from the rest off the pack. "Are you sure? I mean if you want a child, then it surely would be better to get a younger one. I'm only a few years away from becoming 18 and-" "I don't necessarily want a child. I already have someone who's like a daughter to me." His eyes were fixed onto you and for a moment you forgot that there was anyone else besides the two of you in this building. At that moment you felt that you could trust Derek's word, that you could trust the hope it installed in you.

[kyber-crystal]

I'm curious on what you could do with 15 and 8, babes! Love goes all to you

8. “Something tells me that’s not the only thing on your mind right now.” and 15. “I hope you didn’t think I was a bad kisser or anything...I did that after thinking a thousand times.”

It’s Okay to Not Be Okay - Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~2k Warnings: slight angst, fluff Summary: He’s always there for you when you need him. Even when you claim you don’t, he knows better than that. A/N: i threw in a harry potter reference and now i’m sobbing yAy

As it turned out, balancing a double life as head trauma surgeon for SHIELD while handling the duties of a superhero were much tougher than you anticipated. 

Of course, you knew exactly what you would be getting yourself into when you chose to go down the medical route. You knew what you would be getting yourself into as soon as you accepted the call to join the Avengers Initiative. but what you didn’t see coming was the immense effects it all would have on your physical and mental health.  

If you were lucky, you got a few hours of on-and-off sleep in between missions before you were called to the OR to perform emergency surgeries on injured agents, or were deployed for another few missions back-to-back. So you relished in relaxing on the weekends. It was a rare occasion in which you actually got to kick back and do whatever you wanted without the pressure of saving so many people in a limited amount of time on your shoulders. 

Steve noticed something was wrong from the moment you stepped out of the elevator and lazily slid your coat off your shoulders, hastily tossing it onto the sofa and setting down your duffel bag before trudging up to your room. He knew you had a long day, though, and wanted to help you unwind after your long shift. Chances were that you and him, or Natasha, would be sent off the next day and you wouldn’t get an opportunity to rest like this for the next week or so.

He silently prepared a steaming hot cup of your favorite tea, knowing you were most likely exhausted. Sixteen-hour shifts weren’t kind at all.

You tried to hide all the pills - pills that were supposed to treat your anxiety, the nightmares, the insomnia - but you weren’t subtle enough for Steve. You claimed you were fine, but he knew better. He knew you like the back of his hand - he could read into all those little signs you gave off, a skill nobody else on the team had except him and him alone.

Every inch of your body was aching immensely - the aftermath of rushing around and standing all night without a wink of sleep. Fatigue was tugging at your eyes and if it weren’t for the tiny last bit of self-control you had left, you would’ve collapsed right there on the spot. 

“Hey,” he said softly as you came back down, this time exiting the elevator in a pair of sweatpants and his black T-shirt. He smiled at the sight. “How was your day?”

“It was fine,” you sighed, sitting down at the sofa and curling your knees up to your chest. He came over and wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, gazing at you with genuine concern. “Fourteen-hour transplant operation and another two patching up other injured STRIKE team members.”

“From Rouen?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket tighter over yourself. “Look, I’m fine...if that’s what you wanna ask. It’s just been a long night.”

His brow furrowed as he placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles across it. "Something tells me that’s not the only thing on your mind right now.”

“I told you, Steve, I’m fine,” you snapped, blinking rapidly to fight back tears that threatened to spill. You softened your tone as you noticed the look on his face. “Really.”

“No, you’re not,” he murmured, placing a finger beneath your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. “Come on. You really think I wouldn’t be attuned to your emotions by now? Just tell me what’s going on.”

You let out a shuddering sigh, briefly squeezing your eyes shut. You shook your head. “No. Steve, I told you-”

“Don’t lie to me. I know something’s wrong. Now tell me or I’ll have Bruce force the truth out of you.” His voice was commanding yet gentle at the same time. “Please, Y/N, tell me. I’m worried about you.”

You let out a sigh of defeat, shoulders sagging. You nodded and swallowed hard, “Fine. Today..I was in the ICU. There was a patient; an orphaned little girl who’d been brought in after a hostage raid on a HYDRA base up north- Scotland, I think? Katie was her name, I think. She was admitted about a week ago. But she’d been held captive for...almost an entire year. She was severely malnourished. She was losing hair, losing weight - she looked like a skeleton. It was only recently that I had diagnosed her with leukemia, but by the time the diagnosis was made there wasn’t much time left. But no amount of sickness could get rid of her contagious energy and adorable little smile. She reminded me so much of my younger self, it hurt.”

“She was dying. Steve, she was dying and I didn’t know,” you sobbsd, “I can’t believe I didn’t- if I had found out sooner, I could’ve helped. Now it’s too late. I could see the light fading from her eyes. Katies’ grip on my hand was growing weaker by the second and I just - I didn’t want to believe what was happening. 

“She died with me by her side...a mere three minutes later. She died holding my hand. She died without a family...she died, and I couldn’t save her-”

“But she had you,” Steve whispered. “You were there for her, and I’m sure she’ll always be thankful for that.”

“I could’ve saved her!” you yelled, voice cracking. “But I couldn’t! It’s my fault she’s dead-”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. You didn’t know. And you did everything you could. That’s all that matters.”

You shook your head wildly, feeling more burning tears slip down your cheeks. “I wish I could’ve spent more time with him -”

You tried to open your mouth to speak again but instead, a choked sob escaped your lips. It was like a suffocating pressure was tightly lodged against your chest and prevented you from being able to breath properly. Anything you tried to say came out in incoherent sobs and gasps - you felt so trapped, like you were stuck in a tiny little box with no way to escape. It was draining.

Steve did the only thing he knew how to do and carefully wrapped his arms around you, quickly pulling you into his chest. You slumped against him and continued to sob - burying your face within the fabric of his cotton T-shirt to further muffle the sounds of your crying. When he tightened his arms around your trembling frame you didn’t bother to writhe in his grasp and fight back. There was no fight left. You didn’t want to keep fighting. You were done with it all.

“Hey hey hey. Breathe, darling, just breathe,” he cooed, smoothing your hair back, “you hear that? Listen to my heartbeat, breathe in and out, that’s good...”

You took one shuddering inhale and exhale after the other, until slowly but steadily, the hiccups faded away and your crying eventually came to a halt. You knew you looked like an absolute mess - with puffy, red eyes and tear tracks staining your blotchy red cheeks.

But if he was being honest, none of it made you look any less stunning than you were. Despite your glossy eyes and tearstained face, you looked breathtaking to him - you always did, and always would.

And he gets so wrapped up in gazing down at you that he loses sense of the world around him, and doesn’t realize that the two of you are slowly moving closer and closer to one another until there’s essentially no space left.

Then, he kisses you.

He knows he could’ve picked a better time to do this. He knows. It was wrong of him to choose now out of all occasions - you were emotional and out of the loop. But he couldn’t help himself - he didn’t know what else to do. After months of suppressing his feelings deep down, he was sick and tired of keeping them from you.

So he went with his gut instinct - which was to simply go for it. And he did.

When his lips initially met yours you didn’t know what to do. But then, you found yourself kissing him back, your arms going around his neck and your eyes fluttering shut. He went to cup your cheeks and gently held your face in his hands for just a few more seconds but when you pulled apart, you were left with an aching feeling - wishing it would’ve lasted longer.

Then almost as soon as it started, it was over. Whatever warmth you felt was now replaced with an eerily chilly sensation that uncomfortably enveloped your body. And he felt it too. And he hated it. But he was afraid to make a second move - what if you didn’t react the same way you did as the first time?

Steve looked down at you and wiped the last of your tears from your face with his thumb and reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers together. 

...

You now have Steve’s oversized hoodie on over his shirt you were also borrowing, a mug of tea in your hands as he sat across from you at the kitchen counter. 

You silently picked at the castella set in front of you on the plate as he delicately held one of your hands in his, rubbing patterns across your palm. It was soothing, almost distracting, in a way.

A full hour of silence had passed, and frankly, Steve felt a little relieved. He’d trade your tortured cries for radio silence any day - he hated seeing you in pain. It was like receiving a direct bullet to the stomach - and he knew those things hurt like hell. 

“I’m sorry,” you wiped at your nose with your free hand, “I look gross right now. I’m sorry you had to see all...that.”

“Hey...it’s okay,” Steve reassured you. “Trust me, I’ve seen worse. You remember that day a piece of scrap metal got buried all the way into Bucky’s calf?”

You shuddered and laughed sadly at the thought. You remembered having to treat him and Wanda holding him down as he struggled not to cry out in agony. “Yeah. That was a mess.”

“And you saved him. You’ve saved so many people, Y/N. Don’t feel bad for being unable to stop something out of your control. Think about how many people are out there, alive, because of what you did,” he reminded you. “You saved Bucky, you saved Peter. You even saved me once.”

“I saved your ass multiple times, you mean,” you snorted. He cracked a grin. “Three times, to be exact.”

“You definitely did, sweetheart. And I’m sure Katie knows that. That you’re a hero.”

You felt your heart twist in your chest at the mention of her name. “I really hope so.”

“She knows. Trust me, she knows you are.”

“Thank you...” you muttered, “...you know, you didn’t have to stay awake for me. You could’ve just gone to bed.”

“Without knowing you were alright? That’s not happening, darling,” he chuckled lightly, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your forehead. “I’m gonna be here and I’m gonna wait for you, whatever it takes. I’ll always wait for you.”

“Always?”

He squeezed your hand. “Always.”

Your smile widened ever so slightly - and you felt stirring in your chest at his words. 

Steve then raised an eyebrow at you. “I know this is off-topic and all, but...I hope you didn’t think I was bad kisser or anything. I did that after thinking a thousand times. Though my timing could’ve been better-”

“No, no,” you laughed lightly, “you’re all good. You’re not a bad kisser at all.”

“I hope you wouldn’t mind if I tried again, then?” He let go of your hand, and slid his hand up to the back of your head to pull you closer. 

“Not at all.”

Your lips met, and for the briefest moment in time, you could pretend you were okay - for a moment, everything seemed like it would be okay again.

[queeenpersephone]

Hello! I’d love to see what you have written for the Good Omens/Doctor Who story! ☺️

yay! okay this is literally just copy/pasted from my doc for this fic (about 2k), so the plot probably won’t be obvious but hopefully it’s still enjoyable to read! i just don’t think i’m ever gonna finish it because i never finished good omens

without further ado...

take it up with the badlands

summary: If he wants her to stay, he’ll have to fight those who shaped the universe. And they could, he knows. He is an immortal demon, no longer bent to the will of heaven or hell. She is the Bad Wolf, Goddess of Time and Space, capable of feats even he can barely imagine. That’s not even in question. The question is: would she ever actually want to stay with him?

Deep down, Crowley knows the answer. And it’s not a happy one. 

The white haired man looks her up and down, a mask of evaluation on his face, before grimacing in distaste. “Oh, I suppose I know why you’re here,” he announces when he has finished deducing. “Wish you people would leave him alone,” he adds under his breath.

Rose just smiles, playing along. Maybe the man this man speaks of is someone who can help her - the reason Bad Wolf sent her here. “Sorry, can I just wait for him here, then?” She twists one of the hoops in her ears, giving the bookseller a bright grin.

Instead of looking reassured, the gentleman looks even more unsettled. 

-

“I've been working on this top secret project for years now,” she tells them. “The Dimension Cannon - supposed to get me back to my proper universe. Only, someone noticed I wasn’t aging that quick, so they somehow got my blood from my files and ran some tests. Still don’t know what they found, but a couple days later my stepdad was deposed. He only had the resources to get my mum and my little brother to a safe house before they killed him.” She swallows hard. “I was tortured for about four months.”

Aziraphale murmurs a sympathetic “oh dear!” but makes no move to comfort her. Crowley tries to refrain from rolling his eyes: angels have a great sense of empathy, but really know shit about showing it.

“Anyway, I escaped. Been on the run for a month or so - saw something in your window that made me think this was a safe place.” Something in her eyes tells Crowley that she won’t tell them what it was, not yet. “I figure something about this universe makes me age slower, but they thought I was alien. After all the crazy shit that’s happened in the last decade, they felt betrayed, I guess.”

Crowley shrugs. “You are, though.”

Rose starts. “What?”

“You’re an alien,” Crowley clarifies unhelpfully.

Aziraphale takes over. “What Crowley is trying to say, my dear, is that you are neither angel nor demon, but you are an immortal. Quite a powerful one, I sense.”

Rose’s jaw nearly hits the floor. 

-

“Well, love,” Crowley drawls, “seeing as you’re probably going to be here awhile, you might as well come for drinks.” He drapes a loose arm over her shoulder, leading her out the door as Aziraphale closes up shop behind them.

“Are you tempting right now?” Rose teases, but he can see the shock and pain that still hide behind those golden eyes. Crowley’s never had mortal attachments, and he’s not the type to be empathetic, but he still acknowledges that it must be difficult. He’s only known this newly immortal human for an hour, but he can already see how strong she is. “‘Cause I’d rather have a friend,” she admits.

Crowley, thankfully, is saved from responding by Aziraphale’s gentle hand on Rose’s shoulder. “Ah, my dear, I’m quite sure we’ll get along splendidly! My demon friend here is slower to trust, but he’ll come around.”

“Oi, right here,” Crowley grumbles, but he manages a soft smirk at Rose as they stride off to their favorite bar. He’ll get to the bottom of this anomaly if it kills him. 

-

To Crowley, Rose is a walking contradiction.

She has a dark sense of humor and a penchant for danger and trouble, with a generally mischievous air that Crowley has always associated with demons. Yet, her staunch sense of right and wrong and blinding optimism could only belong to an angel. Well, Aziraphale, at least. The rest of the lot are right bastards. 

And she’s so far out of the rest of the humans’ league that she might as well be in another universe.

From one, Crowley mentally corrects. Then he wonders when this little goddess-human prototype began to take up so much space in his conscious thought. The space usually reserved for good tea and terrorizing plants and tight jeans - now filled up with thoughts about Rose Tyler’s bright laugh and bad jokes and uncertain fate. 

-

“There’s something you’re not telling us, love,” Crowley observes.

“Yeah,” she admits, a soft blush blooming on her cheeks. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? I trust you.” Crowley makes an impatient shooing motion with his hands. “Yeah, okay, so in my universe, I sort of absorbed the time vortex? Long story short, I controlled all of Time for a few minutes - the Doctor said I would’ve burned, but he took it out of me.” Rose shrugs. “Anyway, the torture I went through.. that’s how I discovered I can kinda… control it, I guess.”

“Control it?” Crowley leans forward into her space, taking his hands out of his pockets.

Rose gestures around. “It’d be easier if I showed you - Aziraphale, do you have anything in the shop you’re not attached to?”

Crowley nearly loses it at his friend’s offended and very concerned expression. Oh, this girl is only proving herself to be more and more precious. 

-

“You’re God, huh?” Rose knows, gazing intently at the shadowy figure in the corner of her dream.

The figure straightens, but Rose still can’t make out any singular feature. It’s a woman, surely, but nothing else. “Bad Wolf, you do not belong in this universe,” God says, and Rose rolls her eyes.

“Took ya kind of long to figure that out, yeah?” 

God shrugs. “We couldn’t decide where you fit in with the Plan. And now We’ve decided you don’t fit, so We are sending you back.”

Rose's heart jumps at these words. “Back?” she stutters, “to the Doctor?”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Rose squints at Her. “You’re not doing it out of the kindness of your heart though, are ya?” God is silent, and then Rose knows. “You’re afraid,” she realizes. “You’re afraid of the Big Bad Wolf.”

“We have no fear,” God says, but it is like She is shouting in Rose’s head.

Rose’s eyes flash gold. “I take your atoms…”

“ENOUGH.” 

Rose wakes sweaty and exhilarated to the sweetest sound she has ever heard. To the sound of the TARDIS. 

-

Crowley takes one look at the Doctor and the way he holds Rose’s hand, keeping her slightly behind him in a completely unnecessary protective stance that fires up Crowley’s indignation - he left her, he left her, he has no right to protect her - before shoving him up against the wall in a chokehold. If Rose hadn’t been panicking about the possibility of them killing each other, she would probably be a little turned on. The man she’s loved for years and the demon that made her smile again, both with the body and face of her dreams? It’s probably a good thing she’d only ever think about that possibility in hindsight. 

“I fell,” Crowley growls, “through ash and fire. All for pride. Rose Tyler, all annoyingly empathetic and stupidly optimistic and fucking brilliant that she is - she helped me find peace. And that makes things very simple. If you hurt her, if she feels one ounce of pain that you had it in your power to prevent, I will fall to God’s feet and beg forgiveness for my sins just to travel between universes and rain hellfire down upon you.” His words have the same, ancient feel to them as the Doctor’s, the same cadence as holy scripture, as absolute truth, and Rose shivers. His voice is so low and heated that when she steps close between them and lays a hand on his chest to push him off the Doctor, even she can barely hear it. “And I’m quite good at that,” he adds, smirking down at Rose, who shakes her head at him with a soft smile on her face. 

“It’s been a ride, gentlemen,” Rose says, sparing Aziraphale a friendly nod before gazing up at Crowley. “Thank you.” She rubs the fabric of the henley over Crowley’s heart, and he groans in frustration.

“C’mon, love,” he tries, “look at him! I’m sure I can give you at least twice as many orgasms.” Rose giggles, used to Crowley’s brand of humor, but doesn’t miss the sharp noise that the Doctor makes behind her. “I’ll make you see heaven,” he promises, but she can tell by his eyes that he already knows her answer.

The Doctor moves up behind her, twining an arm around her and pressing his palm to her stomach. “And with me, she’ll see stars,” his voice is low and dark, and Rose knows that they need to get onto the TARDIS before a full out brawl occurs in front of her. 

So she takes the Doctor’s hand from her stomach, pressing a kiss to the back of it before shooing him back to the TARDIS. He goes, but he watches Crowley with sharp eyes.

“You’re better than you believe, yeah?” she whispers to the demon in front of her, cupping his cheek gently. “If I was meant to be here, in this universe, I’d be the one to show it to you. So you just gotta get back out there and find this universe’s match for you. I know they’re out there.” Her eyes dart to Aziraphale for a moment, wondering if something might eventually come from that. There’s history there, and they have the rest of eternity to figure it out. “Rely on your best friend, yeah?” She adds, wondering if a hint could turn into a catalyst.

“Rose-” Crowley begins hoarsely, before Rose dives her fingers into his ginger hair and pulls his lips down to meet hers. 

It’s a soft, chaste peck, nothing like that drunken night, but the possibilities hit them both like a freight train. It’s not hard to imagine their endless days: going for drinks with Aziraphale, lounging at his bookshop, Rose following his angry rants at his plants with a soft touch to their leaves, Crowley tempting ordinary humans into sin and Rose tempting Crowley into bed. In fact, it’s easy, and when Rose feels the hint of tears at the corners of her eyes, she pulls away. “Bye, love,” she murmurs, borrowing his nickname before giving him a quick squeeze. His arms don’t have time to come around her before she is walking back to the Doctor, who brushes his lips against her forehead before she walks past him and into the TARDIS. 

Crowley ignores the lump in his throat, but before he can walk away, a low tenor stops him. 

“I’m the last of my kind,” the Doctor is saying, eyes dark and intent. “I’m the killer of my kind. I’ve spent my life trying to do the best thing for the universe, but rest assured, I’ll now be doing the best thing for Rose. Forever.”

Crowley nods in agreement with this promise, before letting a smile quirk at his lips. “Have you considered whether she’ll let you?” He asks.

The Doctor grins full on at this. “Oh,” he says, stepping into his transdimensional blue box. “I can see why she liked you.”

With a groan and wheeze, the Bad Wolf disappears from this universe. God is satisfied, but Crowley sets out to get really, really drunk.

He won’t stop living, though, he refuses to disappoint his Rose like that. No, he’ll find his match.

After a few bottles of Scotch. 

-

“Did you love him?” The Doctor asks quietly, weeks later, when they have regained some sense of stability.

If she had been the same person she was when she started traveling with him, she might’ve lied. Been afraid to disturb the peace, the delicate tightrope that she and the Doctor always seem to balance on. But now, Rose is different. She understands relationships, understands love and trust and commitment, a little better. She knows the Doctor would never leave her, never let her leave unless he was absolutely sure it would truly make her happy. They’ve already hashed it all out, amongst tears and rage and late night nibbles, sitting at the foot of the TARDIS’ doors and dangling their feet into the cosmos. After everything they’ve been through, honesty comes easy.

“I could’ve,” she admits. She saves the waxing poetic, the memories of the dark quips and burning hugs and blunt speech, for their next visit with Jack. She’ll be honest with the Doctor, but she won’t set out to hurt him. “He’s a good man- demon, I mean,” she corrects. “Misunderstood and angry at the universe. He deserves a love that didn’t already promise someone else forever.” The Doctor reaches over, twining their fingers together. “And I’d never regret that promise, yeah?”

“Good,” the Doctor whispers, tugging her close. “Cause that’s how long you’re gonna stay with me.”