#Kirk: ‘…do you think maybe I could just roll up my sleeve then pull it down after?’

[divinekangaroo]

Kid’s always been into musicals and 1920s-1950s type movies, so we’ve started watching Star Trek Original Series and he’s enraptured

that difference in pace, focus, concentration on people not action, etc

[soft-for-them]

you’re going to feel so warm when you meet him ♡ aos montgomery scott x plus size reader ♡ soulmate AU

anon: Hey could I please request a aos Scotty and preferably but not necessarily plus-size reader soulmate au? Thank you so much! Your writing is lovely! ♥️♥️

really like this one, not proof read.

You were always fucking cold and you blame your soulmate.

Everyone has soulmate, a forever friend, what ever you want to call it. 

Soulmates are your other half, your best friends and whilst they aren’t necessarily romantic they can lead to your future significate other.

Soulmates feel the feelings of their other half; some people feel it straight from birth some have ‘the moment’ when they’re older, when they finally connect with their soulmate’s feelings.

For so many years you felt nothing and it had begun to worry you. Well it worried you until you felt their feelings on your first week at the academy.

You remember it like it was yesterday. 

It was a sweltering day and you had felt good enough to roll up your uniform sleeves with out people judging your chubby upper arms. 

Your new friend Jim Kirk, a man who had attached himself on you on the first day, also had his sleeves rolled up.

‘It’s too hot.’ you complained as you pulled at the form fitting red uniform.

‘We’re too hot (y/n), turn a negative into a positive.’

You playfully slapped the taller man on the arm as you both entered the large classroom.

‘Shut up Jim you know the only hot one here is Nyota Uhura.’

For the rest of the class you were taking notes whilst talking to Jim but then you had felt a shiver run up your body.

At first you had though it was the air conditioning blowing on you too much but then you realised that there wasn’t any air conditioning in the classroom.  

‘This sucks, they haven’t fix the aircon yet.’ Jim said whilst fanning himself with one of you notebooks.

Another shiver shook your body, the polar opposite feeling of cold overwhelmed you.

That day the shivering got progressively worse, so bad in fact that you collapsed in class from violent shivers with the beginnings of hypothermia.

And from that day you have been wearing an oversized winter coat so you don’t die from being so cold.

You don’t feel your soulmate for most of your life but then all you can feel is coldness and the occasional hangover, how romantic.

.

.

‘God damn it Jim this is a serious situation.’ you shout to the tired looking man and his good doctor friend, Leonard McCoy.

It’s the aftermath of the Romulan attack and you had been running around in your puffer coat all day, now only realising that you feel warm.

You don’t feel cold any more.

Leonard had checked all you vitals and he has concluded that you’re at normal body temperature, unlike your below zero temperature you normally had.

‘(Y/n) take off that coat, I don’t want you overheating.’ Bones demands.

‘Nope. Never. It’s my comfort blanket.’  you snuggle more into the ripped and sweaty garment which had taken the full force of the Romulan attack.

At first when you had gotten the specially made coat you felt horrid. It made you already big body bigger and you though you looked like colourful marshmallow.

However, you have grown to love the puffy coat with all your heart and you are hesitant to remove it from your person, even if it’s falling off you.

‘What if their dead?’ you ask out loud, it’s the only scenario that is playing in your head but Jim has been telling you that it isn’t true.

‘He’s not dead (y/n)-’ Jim sits down next you for some reassurance. 

‘But I can’t feel them- wait him?’ your plea turns into confusion as you peer up to your dear friend and then to the more confused doctor. 

‘I think I’ve met him (y/n).’ Jim calmly says to you.

You look to and from Jim and Bones watching their reactions. 

Jim looks knackered but happy whilst it takes a moment for Bones to click on about who Jim is talking about.

‘Jim. Leonard.’ you stand anger bubbling up instead of happiness, ‘You better not be fucking with me.’

Tears bubble in your eyes. Too much has happened, you don’t want any false hope for who your soulmate might be, you need to be sure.

Jim nods at Bones who swiftly carries on with his job, leaving you two alone.

‘Jim. What’s going on.’ you are desperate, salty tears are now flowing down your face.

Jim stands up and hugs you. The hug is one of great comfort and friendship, like an older brother's hug.

‘You’re going to feel so warm when you meet him.’ he holds you away from the hug like a proud dad looking at his child, ‘Though you won’t feel it with that thing still on you.’

Jim points at the coat which is over heating you.

‘I’m not taking it off Jim.’ you give him a grumpy look and cross your arms.

‘Can you even take it off?’ You look away from the man which makes him giggle.

‘...No, the zip is stuck...’ you pout, ‘I’m not cutting it off. It’s sentimental to me!’

Your arms uncross, showing the many cuts across the coat. Even though it’s broken the cuts can be easily stitched up and covered up.

Jim takes your dangling arm and drags you with him.

‘Come on, let’s get this thing off you.’

‘But what about my soulmate Jim! Don’t change the subject!’ you arm starts to hurt from the enthusiastic man pulling on it.

The signature James.T Kirk smile pops on his face, he doesn’t respond.

Through much walking and a turbolife ride you both end up in Engineering.

‘Scotty!’ Jim shouts out as you look around at the engines of the ship, ‘need some help here!’

Beads of sweat start to form on you from the warm room, the coat you wear feels like it’s getting smaller around you. 

Maybe it is the best thing to take it off.

‘Aye, Captain. What do you need?’

A man, who you suppose is Scotty, walks out towards you both.

He is a red shirt with receding hair and a sweaty forehead. However, you find him to be quite cute, especially when he sees you and smiles.

‘You got anything to unzip my dear friend from this death trap?’

Jim turns and points at you, you give Scotty a tiny wave.

To Scotty you look too cute but he does wonder what you look like underneath due to the coat covering most of yourself.

‘Ah, we just need a pencil and some patience.’ Scotty hurries away to find a pencil.

‘A pencil!’ You stare daggers at the all too happy man, ‘Jim we didn’t need to come down to engineering to get a pencil!’

Your whisper shouting is interrupted but the resurfaces of Scotty holding a flat pencil in his hand.

‘May I?’ Scotty says coming closer to you. You shyly smile and say a small ‘yes’ before he comes closer.

‘You see you use the pencil on the top of the zip-’ you allow him to closer and begin to use the pencil on the zip, ‘-and it should loosen it-’

A blush has surfaced on your face, though you can easily say it’s from you overheating but the same blush has appeared on Scotty’s face. 

He jiggles the zip which undoes, he steps away so you can unzip the coat fully.

Like it’s the easiest thing in the world the coat comes off like shedding skin. You are automatically cooler as the puffy thing drops to the floor reliving your yellow dress uniform underneath.

You feel naked.

The coat was a comfort that coved up the your curves and the shortness of the uniform dress. Sure, you’re wearing thermal tights and big bulky winter boots but you still start to feel a tad insecure.

‘How you feeling (y/n)?’ Jim shouts from the sidelines with the same big smile on his face.

‘Weird. I feel weird Jim.’

You go to kneel down and retrieve the coat but Scotty beats you to it.

‘Here lass, I’ll get it for you.’

Scotty bends down and grabs the coat, he examines the cut up martial in his hands, he looks up right in your eyes and speaks.

‘Thermal martial, quite expensive for a normal winter coat.’ his is really just thinking out loud but the observation makes you smile.

He hand you over the coat which you hug into your body.

‘Yeah, well good job I didn't have to pay for it.’  Scotty looks confused, ‘It is- it was apart of my uniform. I had a thing before, was always cold.’

Jim looks on at you both babbling about the coat, he decides to intervene for both of you haven’t realised yet.

‘Didn't you wear a similar coat on that ice planet Scotty?’ 

Jim walks closer to you, who is hugging your coat too much to fully comprehend what’s to come.

‘Nah, I still froze half to bloody death.’ 

‘...what...’ your focus sifts to the Scotsman, shock morphs onto your face.

‘Yeah had hypothermia but somehow survived. Don’t know how I did?’

Scotty is oblivious to what has just dawned on you, he carries on talking about his time on the ice planet. However, he is interrupted but the soft thud of the bulky coat dropping on the floor.

Scotty turns to you to see tears escaping your face, his eyes start to water too.

He had been sweating more than usual for most of the day and now he is crying in front of a pretty lass and his Captain, how embarrassing.

‘A-are you sure Jim?’ you barley whisper as you stare at Scotty in front of you, salty tears still poring.

‘As sure as the day follows the night (y/n).’

A sound, that is like a mix between a laugh and a exclamative ‘huh’ escapes your lips along with the biggest smile. Your face, despite having tear stains, is a bright as the sun which is still shining.

Scotty is overcome by your happiness, a deep blush rises up his neck and covers his face.

‘Lass, you ok?’ he scratches the back of his neck in slight embarrassment for his sudden ripe red face.

‘I think we may have to sit down before I tell you this.’

.

.

You groan as you wake up from your slumber, the alarm blaring for you to get up.

Like you’ve done every day you heave the heavy and thick duvet cover off yourself however you are surprised to see the thing on the floor.

‘Whaa-’ you pat around yourself to feel that you have also striped yourself of your thick cotton pyjamas, only leaving yourself in some underwear.

It the dawns on you like deja vu, you feel warm.

‘Yeah, I found him.’ you groggily say as you swing your legs off the bed. You get ready for the rest of your day, with the recurring though of ‘I feel warm.’

To making the bed to putting on uniform, you are hit with the realisation that you don’t need all this thermal stuff for you’re not going to die of the cold.

Even when you slip on the horridly short yellow uniform that does fit well around your curves, you feel slightly more happy to wear it.

Despite that, you still hover at your door when you’re about the leave. Sure it’s stupid to bring along a cut up coat but would it hurt to take a long cardigan for comfort.

You run to your wardrobe and take out a thin and long black cardigan, which hides enough of your ‘bad looking’ areas that the uniform dress has created.

Old habits are hard to kill and you’re happy that they aren’t completely dead.

In your long cardigan and big boots you joyfully walk to the bridge.

The bridge doors swish open and you feel eyes on you.

‘Ah, (y/n) you’re finally here!’ your good friend chimes, the rest of the bridge crew agreeing.

‘You look very nice (y/n).’ Uhura says.

‘I agree, everything you wear is very efficient.’ Spock joins in.

A small and polite ‘thank you’ comes out. You walk over to your seat near Chekov and Sulu, both men say their ‘good mornings’ like the normally do.

You sigh as you lower you gaze to the small screen. However, you feel a hand on your shoulder. 

Looking up you see Scotty, your soulmate, holding a cup in his hand.

‘I though I’d come and check up on you-’ he passes the mug to you, ‘And give you your morning tea/coffee.’

‘You remembered!?!’

‘Aye. We did talk for three hours last night you know.’

You remember the night before when you told the man your realisation of you being his soulmate. For three hours you sat and watched him fix parts of the ship whilst talking.

It was the best three hours of your life.

‘I’ll see you at lunch?’ Scotty questions, hoping that you also remember that you agreed to have lunch with him.

‘Would miss it for the world!’

.

.

.

it took me so long to finish this one but i really like it! i love scotty so much so i didn’t feel like a drag to write it at all.

anyhow, i’m always up for writing more scotty so if you have a star trek request please send it in!

this was edited on the 6th of December, just some little spelling errors changed.

(also finding good star trek gifs is sooooo hard.)

[dw-writes]

Trektober 2020 - Day 31: Holiday Celebration - Leonard McCoy x GN! Reader

AT LEAST I GOT SOMETHING FOR THE LAST DAY OF THE MONTH!!! I plan to go back and go some more prompts for this, so please be on the look out!! :D

@outside-the-government some fun halloween bones for you!

Trektober Day 3 - In Uniform (Bones x Reader) || Trektober Day 4 - Aliens Made Them Do It (Bones x Reader) || Trekober Day 5 - Pining (Bones x Reader) || Trektober Day 6 - Captain’s Chair (Jim Kirk x Reader) || Trektober Day 7 - Soulmate AU + Interspecies Relationship (Bones x Reader) || Trektober Day 9 - Sex Pollen (Jim Kirk x Reader) || Trektober Day 10 - Historical AU (James Kirk and Leonard McCoy) || Trektober Day 11 - Stars (Leonard McCoy x Reader) || Trektober Day 15 - Shuttle Crash (Leonard McCoy x Reader) || Trektober Day 18 - Waiting by Bio Bed (Leonard McCoy x Reader) || Trektober Day 31 - Holiday Celebration (Leonard McCoy x Reader)

You loved shore leave but you especially love shore leave at Starbases, when there were people from Earth who celebrated Earth holidays and explained them to other cultures. It really made you feel like you were home again and brightened your moods. This time, shore leave managed to overlap with Halloween and, well, between you and Jim, you had convinced almost the entire crew of the Enterprise to celebrate in one way or another while enjoying the break.

When you had said celebration, you meant costumes and enjoying some candy from around the universe and maybe convincing Spock to finally watch a horror movie or two. Jim Kirk, though, stopped listening after ‘costumes’ and started formulating a plan of his own for the spooky special day, and declined to reply to any of your questions. Instead, the day before Halloween, as you and Uhura coordinated your costumes, Jim knocked on the door and entered before you could say he could come in. He carried a bag with him.

“Hey, you remember that really, really old Earth show we watched a couple of weeks ago?” he asked as he leaned against your dresser. You paused.

“Which one?” you asked, “We watched a lot of them.”

Jim rolled his hand in front of him, stumbling over his words, “The old one! With the girl in the skirt and she fights and there’s gods—”

“Oh.” You nodded. “Yeah, I remember. Why?”

“Didn’t that blonde guy look a lot like Bones?” he asked as he crossed his arms.

You stared at him, the grip on your costume loosening the longer you watched him. Uhura was the one that groaned, though, and shot Jim a look. “Doctor McCoy doesn’t want to dress up for the party.”

Jim, to his credit, merely shrugged. “I wasn’t saying he had to! Just pointing something out.”

You should have taken that as a sign.

You adjusted the sleeves of your Medical blue sweater, smiling as you helped Uhura tie her hair back, making sure that the strands didn’t catch on the carefully crafted Vulcan ears she wore. “You think he’ll like it?” she asked for the tenth time, smoothing her hands over the blue Science top she wore. You turned her around and stared at her, any mirth forced from your face.

“Now you listen here,” you said, trying your hardest to imitate your favorite doctor’s southern twang. Nyota grinned. “Mr. Spock’s gonna think you’re the bee’s knees.”

“McCoy wouldn’t say that,” she pointed out.

You rolled your eyes. “Bones also wouldn’t say that Spock will find you very cute, but I would,” you replied. She touched her ears again and ducked her head. It was then that Jim shot through the small crowd of Enterprise crew members, looking every bit a Prince Charming in his fitted pants and nice waistcoat. He was panting, and his hair was mused from running through the halls of the hotel, but the grin he wore seemed to grow when he finally found you.

“You’re gonna love this,” he wheezed.

“JIM!” the shout rang out over the crowd, drawing the attention of everyone towards the door of the small dining hall.

“Oh, Jim,” Uhura whispered, “What did you do?”

“I did everyone a favor,” he replied. Leonard finally appeared in the doorway, chest heaving with angry pants. His hair was blonde – a blonde that did not look natural, but chemical. Jim leaned over your shoulder as he ducked behind you. “Put, uh,” he cleared his throat and ducked further behind you, “Put peroxide in his conditioner, since he leaves that in forever.” He slapped your back. “Told you he looked like that guy.”

“Cupid,” you replied as you put all the pieces together. The bag. The question. Now this. Leonard’s eyes searched every face as he scanned the room, working his jaw from side to side. He had the wings – something that was probably forced onto him by Jim, or begrudgingly agreed to – and you were a little disappointed that he wasn’t completely shirtless but instead wore a white tunic. His eyes locked onto your face and he stilled for a moment.

He had to recognize who you were dressed as. He had to!

Then his eyes drifted past you to the captain that hid behind your shoulders, and he snarled out an angry, “Jim,” before stalking across the room.

The captain gently shoved you towards the seething CMO and bolted. Leonard caught you and almost stumbled. He glanced down at you, and his fingers pressed into your shoulders. A smile softened the anger on his face. “Is that my shirt?” he asked.

You tugged at the hem and grinned. “Well, I can’t be the CMO without it,” you pointed out. You tilted your head. “Don’t think Halloween is the right day for Cupid,” you teased.

Leonard growled. “Dammit, I told Jim I didn’t want to dress up, least of all like an angel.”

You poked his chest. “To be fair, at least he gave you a shirt,” you said, shrugging, “Cupid – who is a god, mind you – is shirtless in the source material.” Your smile grew. “You pull it off nicely,” you added.

His face tinted. He carded a hand through his hair, then sighed, and grumbled, “It’s gonna take forever for my hair to grow out.” You patted his chest and turned him around, carefully leading him through the crowd towards the drink table. You’d have to thank Jim later – Leonard did look VERY good.

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Laughing and Knitting - Jim Kirk (AOS) x Plussize!Reader

Summary: You have the biggest crush on Jim but he doesn’t seem to feel the same. After years of having no contact, you see him again.

Request by: @morganofthecoves1 “Hello! Would it be possible for you to do a Kirk (aos) X plus size reader??? If so could you do like a super fluffy image/one shot where Jim and the reader went to the academy together and sat next to each other in one of their classes. They became fast friends, Jim acting like a dork around the reader, always hugging her and telling jokes to make her laugh. Maybe they don't see each other for a long time and then the reader starts to work on the Enterprise. Anything really. Thanks” --> I hope you like it! Enjoy <3

A/N: I forgot how much I love writing Star Trek imagines! This was so much fun!

Words: 2853 Pairing: Jim Kirk (AOS) x plussize!Reader Warnings: fluff fluff fluff and some insecurities

„James Tiberius Kirk, late as always.”

You looked up from your notes when the seminar got so suddenly interrupted. Your professor leaned against his table, arms crossed, a disappointed – yet not surprised – look in his eyes as he stared at Kirk who had just tried to sneak into the room.

Your classmates gave each other amused looks, some chuckled. This happened at least twice a week.

The blonde cadet let go of the door handle and slipped into the room. “Would you believe me if I told you –“

“No,” the professor interrupted him. “No, I would not. Now sit down. There are some people left in this class who take their education seriously. Even though you are sadly not one of them.”

“I’m very serious about my education, Professor,” Kirk replied with his usual smile on his lips and walked towards one of his friends who was sitting in the first row and looked just as disappointed at him than the professor did. Was it Coy? McCoy? You were sure that you had spoken to the man before but couldn’t quite remember his name. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have skipped my morning shower and my breakfast to get to your class, right?”

Some people laughed, you rolled your eyes. It was almost a miracle that Kirk was still allowed to attend Starfleet Academy.

“In that case you can stay right there,” the professor simply replied. “No shower equals no place in the first row,”

Right there meant your row, you realized when Jim turned towards you – and even worse, it meant next to you. Oh god.

James or how his friends called him, Jim, Kirk started attending Starfleet Academy the same year you did. You had noticed him already on the first evening when he boasted to everyone who would listen that he would be Captain of a Starship in only three years. Granted, this happened after five beers in a student bar in downtown San Francisco. Nevertheless, the arrogance of this guy made you hate him. There were other people, people like you, who had studied hard to get into this program and someone like him just showed up and got accepted? It made you furious. 

Those feelings didn’t last very long however. In fact, the anger turned into a full-size crush pretty soon. After a few weeks you got to see his other side – his funny, charming, always-a-smile-on-his-lips side. He still annoyed the shit out of you, don’t be mistaken, yet you couldn’t help but laugh when he cracked another one of his jokes in class.

Kirk was fully aware of his effect on women. At least, it always seemed that way. So his reputation was quickly established. He flirted shamelessly, changing his girlfriends faster than his underwear. It was one reason why you never acted on your feelings and preferred to watch him from afar, being content with your daydreams staying daydreams. The other reason was your fear of rejection. Kirk would never go for a woman like you. Not because of your looks – your rolls and curves weren’t making you less attractive. Quite the opposite actually, you knew how to flaunt them. Feeling comfortable in your body was something you had worked hard for and one man’s opinion wasn’t going to destroy that. No, the women he dated or even just hooked up with were … fierce. They were exciting and knew what they wanted. You couldn’t keep up with that and were convinced that men like Jim Kirk didn’t notice you. You simply flew under their radar.

“May I sit here?”

You flinched and nearly dropped your pen at the sound of his voice. “Yeah, sure.”

Kirk didn’t move. After two seconds passed you looked up at him, a confused look on your face. He furrowed his brows when you didn’t react and the confusion grew. Then he finally bent down, grabbing your jacket that was still on the chair next to you and handed it to you.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Your face grew hot and you quickly tucked the jacked away in your backpack.

“Don’t worry,” he sounded friendly and you were sure he was smiling again. However, you were still embarrassed and kept your gaze focused on the presentation the professor presented to the class. “I’m Jim,” he continued.

“I know,” you mumbled and instantly regretted it. Why was your brain not able to come up with proper responses?!

Jim chuckled. “Of course you do. My name just got announced to everyone.”

Sure, that was the reason.

You cleared your throat and finally turned your head. Leaning against the back of the chair, legs spread out, he seemed more than comfortable. He looked directly at you as if he was waiting for you to say something. “I’m Y/N,” you finally introduced yourself.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Jim held out his hand with a big grin.

You let out a nervous breath of air, concealing it with a soft chuckle, before you shook it. “Nice to meet you, Jim.”

 ***

 Two days later …

It was raining like someone was emptying buckets outside. You sprinted the whole way from your dorm to your classroom and practically fell into your chair, completely out of breath and soaking wet.

“Rough morning?”

To your surprise, Jim was already sitting next to you. You looked at your watch. Were you late? No. “You’re early,” you stated.

He shrugged. “I’m always one for surprises.”

“Did you miss your shower again?” You asked when you got out of your jacket. 

“What?”

“No shower equals no place in the first row,” you quoted your professors and used the sleeve of your pullover to wipe away the raindrops from your face.

“Oh!” Jim exclaimed and laughed. “No, no. I just like the view I have from here.” He winked at you.

You blushed and quickly bent down to rummage through your backpack so he wouldn’t notice it. The last time he sat next to you, the two of you hardly spoke. You were too nervous and didn’t know what to say. He occasionally commented on the lecture and caused you to laugh at the most impossible times but nothing more happened. You thought that was it. Your one chance to talk to him, to act on your crush and you were too shy to do so.

Apparently that was not it.

“Your scarf is great.”

“What?” You looked up at him, thinking you misheard.

Jim pointed at your neck. “Your scarf. Did you make it?”

“Oh,” you felt your cheeks growing hot again not sure if he was joking or not. You had knitted the scarf last year when you visited your parents home and were quite proud of it. “Yes, actually. I sometimes … make things.” You made things? Damn, your ability to articulate yourself was on point today. 

“It looks great, seriously.”

“Thanks,” you smiled softly. 

Then the door opened and your professor strutted in, a cup of coffee in his hands. “Good morning everyone!”

 ***

 Two weeks later …

“What’s that?” Jim asked when he sat down, curiously eyeing the package on his table.

You shrugged, playing dumb. “Who knows. Open it and see for yourself.”

You barely finished your sentence when he ripped it open. “No way!” He exclaimed so loudly that two students in front of you flinched. “That’s so cool!”

You smiled widely as you watched him pull out the scarf. It looked similar to yours, except for the darker color.

“You made that?” He asked you and put it on immediately.

You nodded, feeling flattered.

“Thank you!” It sounded so sincere and he looked so happy, you were taken a little aback by it. All of a sudden, he leaned in and pulled you into a tight hug. “No one ever made anything for me.”

 ***

 From this point on, the friendship between the two of you developed quickly. Soon you sat together in almost every class. You met up for lunch and study sessions. He crashed on the floor in your dorm more than once when was locked out of his room again and even had dinner with your parents when they came to visit you once.

Of course, nothing more happened. As you had suspected – men like Jim Kirk didn’t go for women like you. He never made a move, never gave you any clue that he was interested in you. So you didn’t say anything either. You stayed quiet, enjoying his company and his stories that never failed to make you laugh. The feelings didn’t go away, no. If anything, they grew stronger with every day you saw him and he pulled you into a tight hug. Jim was extremely touchy – hugs, grabbing your arms, touching your hair, it was all a normal part of being his friend. You didn’t mind though. Quite the contrary.

Your friends declared you crazy after a few months. “How do you put up with this?” or “Do you enjoy suffering?” or “Doesn’t it make you feel miserable?” were common questions. You didn’t have answers to any of them. Being around Jim never made you feel miserable. Of course, you sometimes wished you were brave enough to ask him out, to make a move. You dreamed about him realizing that you were more than just a friend to him and confessing his love to you.

It never happened though and you respected it. So you kept quiet and enjoyed the friendship between the two of you. If this was all he could offer you then you gladly took it.

 ***

 Three years later …

It was your first day on the Enterprise. You walked into your room, tired, exhausted, happier than ever. You still couldn’t believe it. When you received the call and they told you that you’ve been accepted, you were convinced it was a prank call. It wasn’t. Starfleet wanted you to transfer to the Enterprise, the most prestigious ship in the entire fleet. It was by far your proudest moment in your career.

After you changed out of your uniform and into something more comfortable, you fell onto your bed, sinking into the soft pillows. As you let the day pass by in your mind once more, you smiled. The crew had been great, welcoming you with open arms. You already loved your job and were excited to officially start the next day.

Would he you see him tomorrow? The thought crossed your mind all of a sudden and you opened your eyes, staring at the ceiling. You knew he was the Captain of the ship. Everyone knew. After all, he was the first one to become Captain in only three years. Oh, how loudly you had laughed when you heard about it in the news. No one believed him on his first day and he did it anyways.

However, Jim and you had fallen out of contact shortly after that faithful day when the Romulans attacked Vulcan. He got promoted quickly afterwards and his life turned into this adventure you didn’t seem to have a place in it. It hurt. Even now, you flinched when you thought about it.

You sat up when you suddenly heard two short knocks on the door. “Come in,” you called out and got up from the bed.

When the door opened, your heart skipped a beat.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.” There he was. Captain James T. Kirk in the flesh, wearing his golden Starfleet uniform, his hands crossed behind his back, his signature smirk on his lips.

“Jim!” You exclaimed before remembering who he was and quickly clearing your throat. “I mean … Captain.” He looked like the Jim Kirk you knew but at the same time he didn’t. Something about him had changed. He seemed more sure of himself, his composure, the way he spoke – he had matured. It was an almost scary sight.

Jim rolled his eyes. “Please, I’m still Jim to you.” Stepping towards you he continued: “I knew, I recognized that name when Spock told me about our new crew members. It’s so good to see you again, Y/N!” He opened his arms but then paused for a moment. “May I hug you?”

You stared at him. “Yes, yes, of course, Jim!” You finally replied and walked towards him.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. You breathed in his familiar scent and closed your eyes. It had been so long. Too long. “I missed you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

“Same here,” he whispered.

You laughed. “Yeah, right.”

Jim pulled back at your reaction. “You don’t believe me?” He asked, his brows furrowed.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “You’ve been so busy I don’t think you had time to miss me that much. At least it seemed that way since you never called or anything.”

He lowered his gaze, a painful look on his face. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” his apology sounded sincere. It wasn’t good enough for you though. “I really am. I meant to call but …”

“Then why didn’t you?”, you interrupted Jim, trying not to sound too heartbroken about it which seemed almost impossible. “I tried to reach you but you never replied.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Honestly I thought it was the perfect opportunity to get some space.”

Ouch. That hurt even more. Space? Why did he need space? Had your friendship been more one-sided than you realized? “Space?” You asked. “What do you mean?”

Finally, he looked at you. He raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe what you just said. “Oh, come on, Y/N. As if you don’t know what I mean.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about?!” You shook your head, growing more and more annoyed by the second.

Jim scoffed before blurting out: “I had the biggest possible crush on you from the day I sat down next to you in class!”

The words felt like a punch in the gut. They left you breathless and your brain wasn’t able to understand the true meaning behind them for a few seconds. “What?! You … what?” You stammered.

“Yeah! I was so in love with you!”, Jim repeated himself and grabbed your hands, holding them tightly. “As if you didn’t notice. Leonard – Dr. McCoy – he still makes fun of my behavior back then. I was hopelessly in love with you.” He let out a short laugh when he thought back.

No words came from your mouth. You were speechless. Confused you looked back and forth between his face and your hand that was resting in his.

Jim watched you. And then – it dawned on him. “Wait, you really didn’t know?”

You just stared at him.

“Oh.” Something happened that you never thought possible: Jim Kirk blushed. “Well, this is embarrassing.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked softly. All of this felt like a dream. Working on the Enterprise, Jim Kirk confessing his feelings for after so many years – you expected to wake up any second now.

Jim shrugged. “You didn’t seem interested. And I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“What?”

A big grin suddenly appeared on your face and before you knew it, you started laughing. “Oh, Jim,” you managed to get out, grabbing your waist while giggling like a schoolgirl. “We’re both such idiots.”

Jim looked at you confusedly. Had you lost your mind completely now? Then he started to realize. Oh no. “Wait…”

You raised an eyebrow, still grinning like an idiot.

“Please, don’t tell me you felt the same,” Jim groaned.

You nodded and the both of you started laughing again.

“Unbelievable…”, Jim exclaimed after a few seconds. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

It was your turn to shrug this time. “I don’t know. Same reason, I guess. I thought you weren’t interested and didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

Jim let out a long sigh. “I don’t believe it. How did we miss that?!”

“I have no idea,” you mumbled. “We wasted so much time.”

For a while no one said a word. It was just you and him, standing in the middle of your room, holding hands, looking at each other. It seemed too good to be true and you never wanted this moment to end.

“Do you still feel the same?” Jim finally asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Do you?”

He didn’t reply, instead his gaze wandered down to your lips. “May I …?”

“Yes,” you whispered, a shudder running down your spine. “You may.”

Jim Kirk leaned forwards, gently cupping your cheek with his hand, as his lips locked with yours – and in that moment, everything you ever wanted became true. The kiss was soft and slow, loving and longing. You never wanted it to end.

When it did end, you sighed.

Jim smiled at you. “I still have the scarf, you know.”

You chuckled. “Oh, really? Well, I can make you a new one now. I’m much better at knitting now.

“No,” he shook his head. “I want to keep it. You made it for me.”

***

My Star Trek Masterlist

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[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

ENG 114: The Classic Novel (1/?)

So this is the college/Professor AU that literally no one but me asked for lol. I don’t think I’ve written fic since my Spock/Kirk days so I apologize in advance for this. I might make this a series? Maybe? Enjoy

pairing: Pedro Pascal x  Reader word count: 1,912 warnings: THIGH RIDING. a little, because thanks guys, I am apparently unable to escape that any more lol

Summary:  “I have to say, there are some pretty glaring errors with your citations. I’m a little disappointed.” Your eyebrows draw together in a frown.

“I don’t make citation errors.” He shrugs, grin never faltering.

 “Come over here and see if you don’t believe me,”

“Do I need to buy you a watch?” His eyes unerringly find yours as you run into his office, backpack narrowly missing the precariously stacked pile of papers on the small, rickety table by the door. His lips are quirked into that tiny smirk you think he has to know by now that you can’t resist. You chance a grin back.

“I’d rather you give me something else, if you’re offering sir.” You hear a short huff of breath escape him and see that flash of something in his deep brown eyes. That something a little dark and a little dangerous that never fails to send shivers down your spine and a burning hand clenching at your insides. He allows his eyes to dwell on all the places he knows you want them to before returning to the papers on his desk in front of him. Still smiling, he pushes his glasses onto the top of his head, messing up his already dishevelled hair.

“I need those sorted and stapled for the survey course we’re supposed to be at in twenty minutes,” he informs you, effectively drenching you and your blatant flirting in a very cold metaphorical shower. You frown down at the stack of papers you had nearly sent flying. 

“That’s like, at least an hour long job!” He briefly glances back up at you, smirking at your annoyance. 

“That’s the amount of time you would have had if you’d shown up when you were supposed to, isn’t it?” 

Growling low in your throat, you toss your bag onto the floor and throw yourself into the chair in front of his desk, dragging the table with its paper punishment closer.

“Something bothering you?” he asks innocently, smiling, still reading that paper, purple pen occasionally scribbling a critique or a word or two of praise. 

“Nope! Totally cool, nothing could possibly be more exciting than this,” you force out through gritted teeth, dividing the different pages into three stacks for easy sorting. 

“Oh good. I’d hate for any part of this relationship to be disappointing to you. Or for you to be feeling less than satisfied in any way.” You feel your eyes widen in surprise as they flick across the desk to him. He still isn’t looking at you. 

Your frown turns into a sly grin as you stand up and reach across his desk for the stapler that’s sitting next to his hand. Your fingers brush across his, finally gaining his attention, and you’re about to drag the stapler slowly back towards yourself when he catches hold of it and pulls it back. You look up from the desk to see him watching you, a playful grin tugging at his lips, lifting his mustache and crinkling the corners of his eyes. You tug again and he tugs back harder. As you open your mouth to protest his other hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, silencing whatever you had been about to say. His touch successfully distracts you long enough for him to pull the stapler out of your hand and drop it at the far corner of his desk. You watch the tiny tattoo between his left thumb and forefinger as he turns your arm over, exposing the soft, delicate skin of your wrist. He traces the fine blue veins that weave their way up the inside of your arm with warm and slightly calloused fingers, watching as goosebumps follow his path and your fingers twitch in response, brushing against his sleeve. 

He lets go of your hand and sits back in his chair. You meet his eyes again as he reaches up and takes his glasses off, slowly folding them before setting the clear frames more gently alongside the purple pen and papers he had abandoned, rubbing his finger along the rough edge his dog had chewed into them. 

“This is your last paper, you know,” he remarks casually, gesturing to his desk. Your eyes follow his fingers as they massage and squeeze each other while he speaks, distracted by the thought of what else those digits could be doing right now.

“Oh yeah?” you manage to squeak out. He nods, still watching, still smirking. 

“I have to say, there are some pretty glaring errors with your citations. I’m a little disappointed.” Your eyebrows draw together in a frown. 

“I don’t make citation errors.” He shrugs, grin never faltering. 

“Come over here and see if you don’t believe me,” he offers, scooting his chair back slightly, making room for you between him and his desk. You walk around to his side and he waves at the papers in front of him, relaxing back, legs sprawled as if he were sitting on a throne. When you squeeze by him your fingers drag along his arm lightly as it rests on the chair arm, and you pluck the papers off the desk. Sitting on the edge directly in front of him, you flick your eyes up to his and find them heavy, dark, and burning, full of all sorts of promises.

You thumb through the papers in your hand till you reach your notes at the end. You scoff as you skim through them, stopping at the one that he had circled and corrected saying, 

“I didn’t do this wrong.” Still smiling, he sits up a little straighter and leans forward.

“You did.” He takes the paper out of your hand and tosses it on the desk behind you, putting his hands on your knees. “But I know this wasn’t your first citation style, it’s understandable that you get confused every now and again.” You look down at his playful grin and are unable to keep the smile off your face. Putting your hands on his shoulders and rubbing gently, you muse, eyebrows raised,

“Weren’t you the one who taught me this hellish citation style back in undergrad? So really,” your fingers move to scratch lightly at his scalp and tangle in the messy brown curls at the back of his neck. “If I have made a mistake, which I did not,” He huffs out a laugh, hands squeezing the knees that he still holds captive in his palms. “It’s your fault anyways.” 

“Oh it is, is it?” You nod, leaning more heavily on his shoulders. 

“Totally your fault. I am, of course, blameless in all things.” His fingers move to tickle the backs of your knees and your legs twitch as you try to escape his grasp.

“Maybe you just weren’t paying attention?” he asks, relenting after a few seconds, before he’s hit with a jerking knee or foot. Which has happened before. More than once. A little breathless from trying to contain the giggles he had been attempting to provoke, you gently tug on his hair and reply,

“Gee, I wonder who’s fault that could have been?” He shrugs innocently, eyes crinkling in amusement. “Well, maybe I just need some extra help. Outside normal office hours.” You lick your lips as you watch his smile turn a little sharper. 

“We can’t have you making these kind of silly mistakes when you write your thesis,” he points out, eyes still holding yours as he releases your knees and rubs the tops of his thighs. You feel your mouth go dry as you try to formulate a response, more than a little distracted at the way his pants stretch taught, remembering all the times that you’ve thought about straddling and riding them to kingdom come. “Can we?”

He stands slowly, moving into your space, trapping you against the desk, one hand resting next to your leg, warm fingers of his other hand tipping your chin up towards him, the smell of his cologne and his laundry detergent permeating the air, distracting and delicious. Your arms slip from his shoulders, down his body, falling to his waist, and you clutch the fabric of his shirt tightly as he cups your face in his large hand, watching your throat when you swallow, dark eyes full of mischief.

 “But if you’re so convinced that there isn’t a problem, why would you need my help? You know I only work with the most,” he pauses. “Serious students under me.” You shake your head slowly.

“Now, now, use your big girl words.” You shiver, that voice shooting straight through you, your eyes fluttering shut. 

“No, I think it’s better to be safe than sorry,” you breathe quietly.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You smirk, eyes trapped by his as soon as you manage to pry them open.

“Please sir,” Your breath hitches, the games the two of you play haven’t ever gone this far. “What ever could I possibly do to correct this most grievous of errors?” He smiles, hands gently separating your legs to move further between them, his body warm and insistent.

“You really want my help?” You nod. He grabs your chin again and gives your head a little shake, his other hand stroking your leg slowly.

“Yes sir,” you correct yourself with a small laugh and a roll of your eyes. “I don’t know that I will ever be able to correct these mistakes without your wise counsel, Jedi Master, expert at the MLA style citation.” 

“Now don’t get cocky.”

“No, that’s your job.” You see the points of his teeth as his lip curls up to one side in a feral grin.

“My, my, young padawan, for someone making such freshman mistakes you’re sure willing-”

“To get pretty fresh with you?” you interrupt, pleased with yourself and your pun. His head drops to your shoulder as he laughs, mustache tickling your neck. You bite back a moan at the sensation, unable to keep your eyes from closing again. Fuck you love that thing.

He stands up straight again, shifting so he could press a thigh into the crotch of your jeans. One hand still on your face, the other gripping your hip, he flexes and pulls you closer, encouraging you to grind yourself onto his leg. You gasp quietly, sparks shooting up your spine at every rub of him against the center of you.

“So you’d be willing to try anything?” he confirms, eyes hot and crinkling at the edges with the smile that still stretches over his whole face as he continues to hold himself tight against you. 

“Anything you say, sir.” you reply, still amused, very excited by this new turn of events. 

His fingers stroke your cheek gently as he leans over you and you can feel his breath on your face, his lips inches from yours. You hold your breath, unable to believe that fucking finally you’re getting somewhere-

When he boops your nose and whispers, silky smooth,

“Staple those papers and bring them to class. You’ve got fifteen minutes.” He takes a step back and grabs the glasses off of his desk with a cheeky wink. You slip forward, trying to follow his hand, his shirt sliding from your grasp, your hands falling back to your lap.

“I’m grabbing coffee, I’ll see you in a bit!” He calls cheerily over his shoulder as he walks around his desk and out of his office and you can hear the grin in his voice. 

You stare out of the window in front of you for at least a minute. 

“Well shit,” you say to the empty room, cheeks still on fire, brain scrambling to process just how close he had been to- “Son of a fucking bitch.”

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 43

~*~Emma~*~

 I remembered Will from a couple of parties and Kirk and Boone's wedding. Nice guy. Apparently, he and some of his friends thought I was the extra in a three-way with Eli and Angie. Eli didn't see a reason he should correct them. Angie invited Alissa out on one of our girls’ nights and she became one of the group. It had probably been six months since I’d last seen her. I liked her and we got along well. The friendship had never progressed past those nights. I can't remember if I met her before or after Jimmy and I broke up. Either way, I moved, and we only ever saw each other on nights out. Now I find she's married to one of Sebastian's best friends. We have at least three friends in common and our friends' group overlaps. Very cool, but very weird. Almost like we were supposed to meet.

 Wednesday I got the photoshoot "before" picture about fifteen minutes before my kids arrived. Looked like Sebastian in the morning. Hair a little messy, a crease on his face from his pillow, and his eyes not quite awake. His beard had grown in more and I ran my fingers over it in the picture, knowing it would be gone in the after. I didn’t dislike either version. I was just used to the way I’d met him.

 My aide took the kids to lunch and I went in search of my after. The first thing I noticed was his beard was trimmed super close, where it was long stubble, but it was still there. I guess they'd changed their mind. His hair was styled not that different than he did except every hair was in place and I was betting it was fixed where it wouldn't move. Makeup perfected his skin tone and somehow made his eyes even bluer. Maybe it was the dark blue robe he was wearing. It had been hours since he'd sent, but I still sent a text telling him how handsome he looked.

 I grabbed my lunch out of my mini-fridge and headed down to Mallory's room. I'd made some pasta salad loaded with veggies while talking with Sebastian last night and was looking forward to eating. Our secretary was walking toward me with a bouquet of cookies. They were shaped and iced like crayons, rulers, apples, notepads, and glue. Outside of teacher appreciation week that usually signaled a parent had gotten pissed at a grade or consequence and sided with their kid. At least, until they got both sides of the story. Cookies were good apologies and could be shared with the other grade level teachers who were sure to know every word you said and the tone of voice you used.

 "Who got yelled at this time, Jamie?"

 She lifted an eyebrow, "You."

"No one’s yelled at me." That meant they were from Sebastian.

"Then your new boyfriend sent cookies instead of flowers."

I laughed, "Good possibility." I took them from her. "Take one for you and Kim."

"I was hoping you'd say that. They smell delicious."

 I walked into Mallory's room with my healthy pasta salad and not at all healthy cookies. "I brought dessert." Our lunch group made appreciative noises.

Cindy laughed, "Who's parent did you piss off?"

I shook my head, "No one."

Mallory snatched the card while my hands were full, "I believe these are from the new man." I went ahead and sat down, trusting the card would be G-rated. Mallory read, "Halfway into the last full week. Hope this helps you all make it through. Sebastian." She looked to me, "Sebastian? That's a mouthful."

"Yes, he is."

 Before we dug into the cookies, I had everyone take one and gather together. I'd send the picture as a thank you. They'd heard about him Monday after the tournament and I talked more about him today. I wasn't ready to share him yet. I was a little surprised word hadn't traveled from the tournament, but I guess there wasn't enough overlap. Outside of my team, where I worked wasn’t common knowledge. This was an advantage of not working and living in the same school district. If there was gossip it was more than likely identifying me as the setter on that team than a teacher. The moment his last name entered my school it would be a topic of conversation in all three buildings. I don't know exactly what that would mean. I'd been here four years and it was common knowledge where I went over winter break. Ed may eclipse Sebastian, but not when you throw Marvel in the mix. We have superhero day during our anti-drug week. I see the Marvel costumes and t-shirts. There'd be a lot of talk. Once the kids were gone, I’d feel more comfortable sharing who this new man is. The kids could make this a zoo.

 Mallory, Cindy, and I were the last left. Cindy asked, "Will we ever meet this Sebastian? See a picture."

 "I’m sure." I smiled, "We haven't known each two weeks yet. It's good and I'm protecting the new relationship like you do a new kitten. It needs to grow a little more."

 Mallory agreed, "You know the Barbie Bitches at the high school are going to want all the details."

 I did know that. "I’m not ready to share."

Cindy took our trash to the cafeteria while Mal and I cleaned up the tables. We sat down to finish our drinks, stretching out our break as long as possible. Her kids coming into the room was my cue to head back to my room as mine would be a few minutes behind them. It wasn’t quite time yet.

My text alert went off with a picture of Sebastian. I reached for my phone, but not so quick that Mallory didn’t see. Her eyes went wide and I held up a finger, “Give me one minute and I'll show you.” He was wearing a dark blue suit, with an unbuttoned white shirt, and an untied bow tie. He looked amazing and about two seconds away from sex. I put my hand over the screen and pushed it toward Mal, "Can I trust you to tell no one. I'm not ready for this to be here."

 Mal put her hand over mine, "You know I'm not telling anyone. If that's who I think it is, the kids finding out will make Field Day crazy. Too much unstructured time to gossip and ask you questions." She started lifting her hand, "Let me see."

I moved my hand from the phone to my mouth.

Mallory looked at the picture a long time before she said, "Yep, that’s a Sebastian. Damn, Emma, you met him," she tapped my screen, "in the grocery?"

I nodded.

"Now I really wish I would have come to volleyball. Although, I probably would have just stared."

 "No, you wouldn't. A few minutes and you would see he's like anyone else. Nothing special."

 She grinned, "Except to you." Her kids started coming into the room.

 I stood, "Except to me."

 As I headed to the door she called out, "We're sitting in the back at faculty meeting."

 Sebastian had sent another picture by the time recess rolled around. He was in black jeans and a t-shirt a least one size too small.

 Emma ~ Might have to cut you out of that shirt. This is not a complaint.

Sebastian ~ It was stretchy.

 Emma ~ How is it going?

Sebastian ~ Good. I'm sitting in a chair having my hair changed.

 Emma ~ What are they doing to it?

 Sebastian ~ Making it look like it did when I got here. Apparently, people sleep in very expensive watches. I' II be done soon. No tommorow.

Emma ~ What will you do with the unexpected free time?

Sebastian ~ Clean my apartment.

 Emma ~ I was going to say you don't have to, but you do. Ha Ha, the first time at least.

Sebastian ~ Exactly. I’m pretty neat. Bathroom is a wreck.

Emma ~ Bathrooms always need cleaning. I have to run. Argument on the monkey bars.

Sebastian ~ Talk to you later.

 It would be Thursday night before we talked. Real-life set in. I had a volleyball game Wednesday night and Sebastian went out for drinks with the photographer once the shoot was over. I got home and was exhausted. We lost. I don't like to lose.

 Thursday during the day there were no texts. My guess is he got home late and drunk. Overslept. Busy at gym. Returns home to sleep off the night before. I was driving home when a call from Sebastian came in.

"Buna ziua, Sebasti-an.” <Good afternoon>  

 “Ce mai faci?” <How are you?>

 Thankfully he kept it simple. “Bine, tu?”  <Good and you?>

Sebastian switched to English. “I broke my phone. I pulled it out to text some woman, got elbowed by a guy on the sidewalk, and threw my phone on the ground. Screen shattered and I held it in my hand watching it slowly die. It just glitched and sputtered away in front of me."

"My poor, baby. Are you mourning the loss?"

 "Nope, an hour in an Apple store and I have a shiny new iPhone. They were able to transfer my data over. Good as new. That's why you hadn’t heard from me."

I smiled, "I thought you were sleeping one-off."

"I barely drank. Too much to do today. Sheets changed, bathroom clean, kitchen has some food, and the family room is clean. When are you going to be here?"

 "I got permission to leave a little early. I’ll definitely make the three o’clock train, but I’ll try and do the two. If that's ok with you?"

 “I'm not going anywhere after the gym. I'll be here waiting."

 "I'm excited. Seeing you. You with my friends and your friends. It’s going to be fun."

"It is."

Just to be sure. "Most excited about you."

"I like hearing that."

 I set my alarm a little early to give myself time to finish packing. I’m not normally an over-packer, but I couldn't decide on a dress for dinner. Or anything else. Insane. At least today wasn't a theme day I need to wear a costume for. I wore a pair of black capris and a bright pink top with rolled sleeves and a long zipper up the front. Up for school, a little less so for Sebastian.

 First text of the day.

Sebastian ~ Are you here yet?

 I had nothing but fun things planned for the day. Yesterday I'd had them vote for their favorite books and we read those at the top of every hour. We played math games, a science and social studies game show, and our top music and movement videos. I ate my lunch getting the STEM Lab cart and prepped everything for my assistant. The kids had been wonderful all day and I didn't feel the least bit guilty when I fled the building when she took them outside for recess.

 I waited until I was safely on the train to text Sebastian.

Emma ~ On my way

Sebastian ~ Early!

Emma ~ I’ll beat the worst of the traffic

Sebastian ~ Exactly what I was thinking.

Sebastian ~ I should shower.

 I put in my ear pods, clicking shuffle on my "Current Faves" playlist. This one changed all the time. Some never left the list. Recently there'd be an influx of happy love songs and sexy mood music. I think I even dozed off a couple of times. The closer I got the more butterflies were in my stomach. I was excited to see him, but a little nervous. I was going to his place. It would be different than surrounded by my stuff. I’m nervous about stupid stuff like where do I put my toothbrush, is it ok to look through the books in his extra room, what I do with my dirty clothes, and what if I get thirsty in the middle of the night? It's making me think back and wondering if I'd made him welcome... comfortable.

 I took a cab from the train station, looking out the window at the city I used to call home. I wasn't familiar with where he lived so I watched the numbers on the buildings. His building from the outside looked like an old converted warehouse. The brick was red with a gray stone line between every floor. Looked about seven floors. He'd texted me the entry code and I hopped on the elevator to the fifth.

 Sebastian opened his door so fast it was like he was standing beside it and I almost fell over. He was barefoot in ripped jeans and a Rutgers t-shirt. He held the door open with a hand high on the door. Add in the finger styled hair, bright blue eyes, and a smile that said he was happy to see me and he was the sexiest thing I'd ever laid eyes on. It was the barefoot part that got me.  "I'm here."

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 8: Homecoming Dance

Wrote another HAICG ficlet! Could probably use more editing but tbh I’m going to crash at pretty much any moment so I’m just gonna throw it out there. Maybe I’ll fix it up some more before putting it on AO3.

This is for @ellavere who asked for Kirk and Spock being embarrassing parents.

Post-5 year mission, ~1600 words

*

Sevin leans in closer toward the mirror, adjusting the knot in his tie one more time. Logically, objectively, he knows that it’s already perfectly straight, and that he should leave it alone. But he can't stop himself from fidgeting with it.

"It's fine, you know," a voice behind him declares. "You look great."

He doesn't turn around, but he does watch in the mirror as his dad stands up, and walks over from the bed to stand behind him. He rests his hands briefly on Sevin's shoulders, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in his jacket. Sevin is in his parents' bedroom, because they have the only full-length mirror in the apartment. But he's wishing he'd just stolen the mirror and set it up in his own room, because at least then he'd have an excuse to tell his dad to get out of his space.

Being alone with his own unfettered anxiety would be easier. Not comparing himself to his confident, handsome, Starfleet Captain parent would be easier. His dad is smiling at him in the mirror like he's the proudest person in the universe, and Sevin can barely remember to keep his shoulders straight. And he won't remember anything else, either, like how to act or what to say, and his suit is the right size, but feels like it’s much too small.

"This is dumb," he says, instead of trying to explain the rest. "I should—I should tell her I'm sick—"

"No! No, you're fine and you're going to have fun. Spock—!"

Sevin glances at the mirror again, at the bit of movement from the hall that caught his dad's attention. Jim is waving Spock over, drawing him into the room.

"What do you think? Doesn't he look great?"

Sevin half-turns so that he's facing both of his parents now, his dad still grinning and his father, next to him with his arms crossed, and what any human would think was an inscrutable expression on his face, deeply and seriously considering. "You look very handsome," he says finally, seriously, and reaches out to straighten the knot in Sevin's tie.

"It's already straight," he insists, with a hint of a whine, and his father just raises his eyebrows innocently.

"I must admit, I still do not fully understand the concept of the high school dance," he says, and Sevin rolls his eyes, because he knows this isn't true. His father does understand. He just doesn't entirely approve. Sevin's not sure if this disapproval is his protective streak showing through or just the way he sets himself apart from purely Terran rituals—or if it's no more than the usual parental denial that his little boy is a full fifteen years old. But if his father forbade him to attend the Fall Homecoming Dance, he wouldn't even put up a fight about it.

"Oh, they're great," his dad answers, while Sevin pulls at his jacket sleeves. "A real coming-of-age thing for Earth kids. You go to a crowded, stuffy gym, decorated with streamers and balloons, and stand around by the bleachers and drink unnaturally flavored punch, and sometimes dance a little, and try to avoid seeing too much of the chaperones."

Spock raises his eyebrows again, the corner of his mouth pulled sideways, his eyes starting to narrow. He is immensely amused. "That does not sound 'great.'"

“He means ‘terrible,’” Sevin mutters, in Vulcan.

Jim doesn’t hear him, but he considers a moment, then admits, "No, it's awful. But," he adds, turning back to Sevin, "also important. Rite of passage, like I said."

"Did you actually have fun at any of the dances you went to?" Sevin asks.

"I did. Once, my sophomore year. I went with my girlfriend at the time, and it was actually pretty decent. Plus, I bet a San Francisco high school dance is a step up from a Riverside High dance, so—" He reaches out, claps Sevin once on the arm. "You'll have fun."

"You will have to tell me about your experiences," his father adds, "as I have never been to such an event, and I am very curious."

"Or dad could just tell you about his and I could stay home," Sevin mumbles. His parents are already standing with their two forefingers touching, which they do almost any time they're in reach of one another, and they don't even seem to hear his comment, because his dad says:

"It's too bad we didn't sign up to be chaperones. Then you could see for yourself."

Sevin fully expects his father to protest, as he himself is protesting—"Oh, no, I don't think you'd have any fun"—but Spock seems to be giving the idea serious thought. He's tilted his head to the side, watching Jim with a careful, appraising, subtly pleased look.

"That would be an interesting experience. Of course, I do not dance—"

"That's a lie. You dance. We've danced."

"That was on a diplomatic mission and thus not comparable."

Sevin's dad is wrapping an arm around his father's waist, pulling him close, only half-joking as he drops his voice a little lower:

"What about our wedding?"

He feigns shock. "A special occasion."

"Okay—can you just—?"

They stop abruptly, almost nose to nose; both turn to him but do not disengage. Spock, at least, looks faintly embarrassed. But Jim just grins.

They are always like this. Sevin can imagine them, showing up to the dance, probably in the dress uniforms that are their only conception of fancy outfits, completely failing to police amorous teenagers because they're too caught up in their own little romantic bubble. As if fairy lights and wilted balloons really set a mood. He has a sudden fantasy of one of his teachers, perhaps Ms. York from Physics, forcibly disentangling them and chiding them for their bad example, and it almost makes him laugh.

"You can't be chaperones anyway, because who would watch Selen?" he asks, proud of himself for his logic.

His parents exchange a glance. "A babysitter," his dad says.

"Nyota, perhaps. Or Dr. McCoy," his father adds.

"Oh, well, too bad they have all the chaperones they need. Maybe another time." Another time, when he stays home with the baby, and they enjoy last year's pop hits echoing drearily in a poorly lit gym. Before either of them can answer, the doorbell sounds, and he's flooded with an intense and refreshing sense of relief.

The relief is followed just as quickly with a twist of nerves so intense, he's half-sure he's about to be sick. Do regular humans feel this way, he wonders, this strongly, or is the strength of his emotions part of his Vulcan heritage? And what mental barriers or strategies could possibly hold the Vulcan version of adolescent confusion at bay?

"I'll get it," he says, in the half-second's pause that follows. That's his date. His date and this is really happening but it will probably be fine--it's just a dance! It's just a dance. Something to laugh about when he's thirty and high school is just a series of anecdotes from his past.

He gets two steps toward the door before his dad reaches out, grabs him by the shoulder, and turns him around. He rests his hands on Sevin's forearms, and looks at him seriously, right in the eye. His dad's go-to move for weighted moments. He'd like to squirm out of the grip, and he could—he's twice as strong as his dad, at least—but in a sense more important than the physical, he is completely incapable.

"Dad, what—?"

"Just wait a moment, okay? I know you have to go. I just wanted to tell you that I've been to these dances and I know that sometimes...the night goes in a direction you don't expect, so... I want you to be prepared. No sex without safe sex, right?

He can feel his face turning red, like a tomato. Like a furnace. He is going to overheat and then faint. Maybe if he tries hard enough he can sink into the floor.

"Dad."

"I know! Dad, so embarrassing. Just promise me, okay?"

He wriggles himself out of the grip at last, ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. He can feel his father staring at them both. "I'm—You don't have to worry because I'm not having sex, okay? I'm... not in the same galaxy as having sex."

He glances at his father, stone-faced and tense, his mouth a thin and impassive line.

"He's not having sex," Jim says, as if to translate, and Spock nods, once.

"Good."

Even to Sevin's ears, it sounds like a threat.

Luckily, the doorbell rings again, and he's saved from further embarrassment—of the parental variety, at least.

"I really have to get that!" he says, and half-sprints from the room.

Three steps down the hall, he realizes both of his parents are following him, and he turns abruptly on his heel, almost running into his father in the process.

"What are you doing?"

"Meeting your date," his father answers.

"And taking pictures," his dad adds.

Sevin opens his mouth to argue, but one look at his parents' faces, and he knows he's already staring down defeat. "Just one picture," he insists, as he starts walking toward the door again.

"Three," his dad counters, while his father suggests, "Perhaps four," and Sevin starts calculating the odds that they will scare away his date before he even gets her out of the building.

The outlook appears, at first, bleak, but they are ultimately in his favor. 

[remywrites5]

Hey sup I LOOOOVE spideypool and was wondering if you could do a soulmark spideypool fic cause you're the best writer I know it's ok if you dint want to tho🙂

            It should have been a comfort after Vanessa died that Wade still had someone else’s name on his wrist. It wasn’t. Her name was still there like an ugly reminder of just what he’d lost when she’d been killed. He’d trace it sometimes, the curly lettering of the N swooping into the E. It felt almost like it was mocking him.

           The two names on his wrist had been the only thing that hadn’t been fucked up by his skin. It was like not even Weapon X could destroy that one part of him. While the skin around it matched the rest there was one perfect circle of skin that remained un-uglied. A circle with two names.

           Vanessa and Peter.

           While Vanessa’s name on his wrist was all loopy and pretty, Peter’s name looked like chicken scratch. Messy and jagged like it was written in a hurry. Wade had spent a lot of time very deliberately not thinking about Peter. Vanessa had known right from the beginning that Wade had two names on his arm. She’d never really said anything about it, just making the occasional joke about threesomes. But Vanessa didn’t have Peter’s name on her wrist, she only had Wade’s.

           Now Wade knew why and that was so fucked up.

           A part of him hoped he’d never meet Peter. For one, it felt shitty to move on from Vanessa no matter how many times he touched other people’s butts. Also it wasn’t like he was in the mood to meet another soulmate just to lose them. People around Wade had a tendency to die and he didn’t think he could handle it if he found Peter just to be the reason he got killed too.

           (But he’ll be perfect for us! Just like Vanessa was!)

           {Besides, all this moping is getting pathetic.}

           (I bet Peter’s hot.)

           {Not too hot or he won’t want anything to do with our fucked up face.}

           (He will because he’s our soulmate!)

                                                           ***

           Peter sighed restlessly and turned over in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He’d gotten all of two hours of sleep and his eyes felt heavy. Patrol had kept him out later than usual when he’d found some arms dealer selling in Central Park. He’d managed followed them back to their base of operations all the way down in the Bronx. He’d spent the rest of his night fighting bad guys and webbing them up. Of course it would have taken him half the time if Deadpool hadn’t shown up.

           They’d spent almost the entire time passing quips back and forth and arguing. Peter hadn’t been sure if Deadpool had been there to buy weapons or to stop them. That was the problem with Deadpool, you never really knew who his allegiance was to. It was why even though Peter liked Deadpool, purely for his sense of humor, he really couldn’t trust him. And maybethe way Deadpool was always complimenting him was flattering.

           He’d ended up leaving Deadpool webbed with all the other bad guys because he hadn’t really known what else to do. Deadpool was dangerous and a mercenary. He couldn’t just let him go.

           Peter turned on his side and slid the sleeve of his hoodie down. He traced Gwen’s name for what felt like the millionth time, ignoring the name beneath it. He had never thought he’d lose his soulmate when he was only seventeen and he wondered if it was why the universe had given him two names. But even though it had been three years since Gwen had died, it still felt weird to think about being with someone else. He’d tried with MJ and that hadn’t exactly worked out and not just because they didn’t have each other’s names on their arms.

           Peter didn’t like having to keep secrets but that was the nature of being Spider-man. Not being each other’s soulmates basically meant that MJ had very little reason to put up with Peter’s bullshit for very long. Being Spider-man meant that Peter had a lot of bullshit to carry around.

           Even though there was a second name on his wrist, Peter couldn’t imagine anyone putting up with his lifestyle for long. Whoever Wade was, Peter almost felt bad for him.

                                                           ***

           “Hi baby boy!” Deadpool cooed, skipping over to Spider-man and putting his head on his shoulder. It was the sixth time they had met – yes, Wade was keeping count – and Wade hoped this time would end better than the time when he’d been left webbed to a wall with a bunch of scumbags. It would have been a great Saturday night if it was just been the two of them.

           “Deadpool,” Spider-man said, shoving Wade away. “I’m surprised they called you in for this.”

           Wade shrugged. “Guess it’s an all hands on deck kind of situation. Speaking of, I’ve got dos manos if you ever need them.” Wade did spirit fingers at Spidey. “You know, for backrubs, holding your spider-purse, anything you need I’ve got two thumbs, eight other varying digits and I’m your guy.”

           “Thanks, I’ll, um, keep that in mind?”

           Wade snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t miss the way Spidey seemed to be checking out his biceps. “So is this alien invasion of the cuter variety? Because I’ve got to say I don’t think I have the heart to shoot E.T. Alf maybe and that Mac and Me fucker definitely but not E.T.”

           “So you’ll kill people no problem but you draw the line at lovable aliens?” Spider-man asked, putting his hands on his hips disapprovingly.

           “You’re not an alien are you?” Wade asked, worrying he might have offended Spidey. “Don’t worry, baby boy, even if you were an alien you’d definitely be of the cute variety. I could never shoot you even if you had antennae and like eight eyes. Do you? I mean you could have anything under that mask.”

           “No, I’m not an alien,” Spider-man said with an amused huff of breath. “And just the two eyes.”

           “Oh good,” Wade said, wiping his brow in relief. “Not that I’m above fucking an alien. If it was good enough for Captain Kirk it’s good enough for me. I would have fucked Worf any day of the week.”

           “That was next Gen.”

           “Oh my god,” Wade said, squealing slightly. “I think I just got an erection.” He glanced down at his crotch and yup that was definitely half a chode at least.

           “And on that note…” Spider-man said, walking away from Wade. Wade cocked his head to the side and watched him walk away, blatantly staring at his ass because damn!

           (break us off a piece of that!)

           {Spidey is such a babe. Bet he’s got someone amazing on his arm!}

           (Maybe it’s Black Widow. Arachnid buddies!)

           Wade followed after Spidey, keeping an eye on his booty as he walked, singing Bootylicious under his breath, unable to help himself. That spandex was hugging Spidey in all the right places. When they got to where the rest of the heroes were huddled up he finally looked away or it was going to go from a half to a whole. “Ooh first day of superhero camp! If we’re doing team games I call anyone with that maximum power level. I want to be team captain so I get to pick first! Thor, buddy, you’re with me. Brawn and beauty, the perfect combo!”

           “Wilson, if you don’t mind,” Nick Fury said with a heavy sigh. “I’d like to start the debriefing.”

           “I call dibs on debriefing Spidey!” Wade called out, putting his arm around Spider-man. Spidey turned and scowled at Wade. He couldn’t tell for sure with the mask on but it definitely felt like a scowl. For his part, Fury was also scowling at Wade. “Oops, sorry Mace Windu, master. The floor is yours.”

           Fury continued to glare for a moment and then looked around at the other heroes. “According to Danvers the aliens have just entered our atmosphere and are headed this way.”

           Wade kind of spaced out for the rest of the explanation. He wasn’t much of a team player anyway and was going to do his own thing. When everyone started to break away, Wade pulled his katanas from their holsters and flipped them once. He glanced up at the sky just as a few large ships appeared. “We’re going to live on! We’re going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence day!”

           “Easy for you to say, man,” Clint said over the coms. “Of course you’re going to survive.”

           “Yo bird man!” Wade exclaimed happily. “Didn’t see you earlier. How’s the wifey and kids?”

           “Not bad,” Clint responded. “Good to see you out here with us.”

           “Clear the coms, please,” Fury said, clearing his throat pointedly.

           Wade rolled his eyes and got ready for the action. A few nasty alien bastards landed near him and he grinned with excitement. “Let’s get ready to rumble!” he shouted, running towards them at full speed.

                                                           ***

           Peter had just barely missed being shot by a laser gun thanks to his Spidey sense. He did a leap in the air to get out of the way and then shot a web to the gun, yanking it out of the alien’s hand and sending it flying towards another one’s head. He was just about to shoot a web towards its foot to knock it off its feet when he heard something in his earpiece.

           “Wade!” Hawkeye shouted. Peter was so caught off guard that he missed and ended up webbing the space next to the alien he’d been aiming at. He quickly shot out a few more webs to contain them and then went to the edge of the building he was standing on to get a good look down below. His eyes narrowed on Clint who was kneeling down besides Deadpool. “Hey Wade, man, you okay?”

           Peter’s feet stumbled underneath him as he shot out a web and swung down to where Wade was laying in the alley. “Oh hey, baby boy, you didn’t have to come down here. I’ll be fine. Honestly you two make such a fuss over me, it’s embarrassing.”

           “Your name is Wade?” Peter asked, blinking slowly, his mind still processing.

           “Yeah,” Wade said, coughing slightly as he sat up. “I thought everyone knew that. Not like I have a secret identity like you, pookie.”

           Clint seemed to think Wade was in good hands because he got gracefully back to his feet and took off running back to the fray. Wade’s suit was torn slightly from where he’d been blasted by their laser guns and he had a rip right by his wrist. Peter couldn’t help rolling his eyes at that. Fate or some such nonsense was clearly intervening.

           “You doing okay, Spidey?” Wade asked when Peter didn’t say anything. Peter reached out and pushed Wade’s suit up his arm to reveal his name – or names – as it turned out.

           Peter swallowed, his throat suddenly thick with emotion. “Hi,” he said softly. “I’m Peter.”

           Wade’s jaw dropped. “No way. You can’t be serious… but you wouldn’t joke about something like that, would you baby?”

           Peter shook his head just as an explosion happened above their heads. “Shit, this is the worst fucking time. But you heal and I’ll go and help and we’ll talk later, right?”

           “Of course.”

           Peter nodded and shot out a web, crawling up the wall on the outside of the building to get back into the thick of it. It felt wrong leaving his soulmate injured in an alleyway but he didn’t have much choice. Sometimes saving the world could be so inconvenient.

                                                           ***

           Wade was swooning, actual honest to God swooning for real. Not only was Spider-man (Peter!) his soulmate, but he was also carrying Wade home like a damsel in distress. It was the greatest moment of Wade’s life. “Fucking laser guns!” Wade said, looking down at his charred suit. “They seem so fun in the Goldeneye game. Not so much in real life.”

           Peter set Wade down by the front door and then unlocked his apartment. Wade couldn’t believe he was actually going to get to see where Spidey lived!

           (This is the best day of our life like ten times over!)

           {We got to play with the Avengers, Spidey is our soulmate and we get to see the Bat Cave. So cool!}

           “So…” Peter said, pulling off his mask and throwing it onto the couch. He turned and Wade got the first good look at his soulmate.

           “Oh fuck!” Wade said, putting his hand over his mouth.

           “What?” Peter asked, blushing like a damn cartoon prince.

           “You’re fucking hot!” Wade said, throwing his hands up in the air over his head in exasperation. “How is that possible?”

           Peter chuckled and shook his head. “Shut up. We should probably talk about some stuff, don’t you think?”

           “Or we could skip right to the kissing part,” Wade offered with a shrug. He really didn’t want to relive his whole tragic backstory but he knew Peter wasn’t going to just let it go, especially now that he’d seen the other name on Wade’s wrist. “I’m guessing you want to know about Vanessa, right? Ex-girlfriend, love of my life, all that jazz. Knew her before I got cancer, left to go join Weapon X, got a whole heap of fuckery for my trouble, saved her life when the baddies got her, didn’t save her the second time when some chucklefucks showed up at our apartment. Tried to kill myself. Tried to kill myself some more. Saved a kid. Went to TGI Fridays. I think that about catches you up to speed.”

           “I’m sorry,” Peter said, shuffling awkwardly. “Uh my turn, I guess? Bitten by a radioactive spider on a school trip to Oscorp. My uncle got shot and I became obsessed with trying to find the guy that did it. Became Spider-man. Fought some baddies. One was a giant lizard man.” Peter pulled one of his gloves off and walked over, showing Wade his wrist with two names, just like Wade’s. “Fell in love with my classmate Gwen. Turned out she was my soulmate, or at least one of them. She was killed and I couldn’t save her. That was about three years ago. Haven’t been to a TGI Fridays in years though.”

           “This is going to be a disaster, Peter, you know that, right?” Wade said, gently wrapping his hand around Peter’s wrist.

           Peter laughed softly. “There’s not much in my life that isn’t a disaster, honestly.”

           “Sounds like we’re perfect for each other then,” Wade managed to joke. He felt overwhelmed being faced with his name on Peter’s wrist. All the time he’d spent hoping he’d never find Peter and keep whoever it was safe from him. Now it turned out it was a fucking superhero.

           “Can I see your face?” Peter asked, taking a step closer to Wade.

           “I don’t know…”

           “Please?” Peter begged, his big eyes like a god damn anime character. Wade didn’t have the strength to say no to him. With his free hand, he pulled the mask off in one go like a bandaid, getting it over with as soon as possible. He stood there uncomfortably as Peter stared up at him, his eyes roving all over Wade’s face, taking it in. “Does it hurt?”

           “Yeah,” Wade responded, unable to lie about it. He wanted Peter to know the truth. He wanted Peter to know everything. Just the small point of contact of his hand on Peter’s wrist was sending little shivers up and down Wade’s arm. “But I’ve learned to live with it.”

           Peter nodded. “I guess we’ve both kind of learned to live with a lot of things.”

           “I guess so,” Wade concurred, taking a step closer to Peter because it seemed like the thing to do. “Maybe we should start a dead girlfriends club.”

           “Sounds depressing,” Peter said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. He sighed heavily and dropped his head onto Wade’s chest. “I miss Gwen a lot but I’m so tired of feeling like this. I want something good, you know? Something that doesn’t make me feel like shit all the time.”

           “Yeah, that’s how I feel,” Wade said, bringing his hand up and running his fingers through Peter’s hair. “That sounds good. Not sure I know how to do that though.”

           “Mm,” Peter hummed, lifting his head up slightly until it was buried in Wade’s neck. ”Well this is nice. We could just keep doing this.”

           “I think I could handle that, baby boy,” Wade said, bringing his other arm around Peter and holding him. He felt Peter melt against him with their suits pressed together. Peter was a good head shorter than him and it made him look so small and precious. Wade couldn’t believe this kid actually went out and fought crime on a regular basis.

           Peter lifted his chin up and stared at Wade. “Don’t take this the wrong way but I’d really like to get out of my suit.”

           Wade smirked. “And what wrong way would that be?”

           Peter snorted. “We’re not having sex, Wade. But I believe someone mentioned a backrub.” Peter grabbed Wade’s arm and slowly began to back them up towards what Wade could only assume was the bedroom.

           “Sorry, all I heard was having sex,” Wade joked, following after Spidey willingly. Already he couldn’t think of anything he wouldn’t do for him. Christ, he’d forgotten what this felt like, the crazy blissful happiness of falling for someone new. He’d thought he was done with all that mushy bullshit but here he as turning back into a marshmallow.

           Peter stopped in the door way and tugged Wade forward. “Behave yourself,” Peter said, pushing up onto his tiptoes and kissing Wade sweetly on the lips. Wade’s eyes widened in surprise at the contact.

           “What fun would that be?” Wade quipped, ducking his head down and kissing Peter again, those same shivers now surging through his entire body and the name on his wrist tingling. As much as he had been dreading finding his second soulmate, he had to admit this had turned out better than he’d ever dared to hope for. He kissed Peter again, just because he could, wishing that against the odds he could keep this one good thing.

[holisticwolf95]

Our Future Chapter 4        Found You

Honeymaren yawned before curling up into a ball under her furs. The first glimpse of the sun poked through making her smile.    “So warm.” She thought. One of her new favorite things was waking up to the sun’s rays. The new experience made mornings even better. Her nose twitched as something gently ran down the bridge of it. Her eyes fluttered opened and was greeted with two blue orbs staring back at her.

   “Morning.” Elsa whispered as she retreated her hands from Honeymaren’s face.

   “Why good morning Princess. How long have you been up?” she grinned. Elsa shrugged.

   “A while. I wanted to check on my mother.” She explained. Honeymaren sat up, stretching her arms over her head.

   “Still asleep?” She asked. Elsa nodded. “So…. You came back to my tent?” She offered Elsa a lopsided grin. Elsa rolled onto her back.

   “I went by my tent for a few things. However, it seems like Ryder was too intoxicated to realize he fell asleep in the wrong tent.” Elsa laughed.  

    “Ahhhh. I see. Why not wake him up?” She watched Elsa smile to herself.

   “I tried. He just mumbled how nice my blankets smelled and fell back asleep.” She explained. Honeymaren made a disgusted face.

   “If I where you I would have dumped a pile of snow on his head.” Honeymaren crossed her arms. Elsa laughed.

   “Jealous?” She asked. Honeymaren raised an eyebrow and moved in closer towards Elsa.

    “Now why would I be jealous when you are in my bed? He’s right though. You do smell nice.” She gave her a taunting smile. Elsa blushed and looked away. “Oh? What’s wrong Princess? You were so flirtatious last night. What happened?”

    “Don’t patronize me.” Elsa flung a pillow at Honeymaren. Her efforts were in vain as the brunette grabbed onto her forearm. Honeymaren yanked Elsa on top of her.

    “I do believe I have every right to do so.” Honeymaren whispered as Elsa fell onto her chest. The blond scrambled onto her forearms and found herself inches from Honeymaren’s face.

    “I’m not good at this sober.” Elsa looked away.

   “Well, if you are uncomfortable.” Honeymaren began but was silenced as Elsa placed a quick peck upon her lips. Honeymaren’s mouth hung open in surprise as Elsa buried her face in the crook of her neck. “Alrighty then.” She muttered happily as she wrapped her arms around Elsa’s waist.

   “Felt like the right thing to do.” Elsa murmured into Honeymaren’s neck.

    “I’m not complaining.” Honeymaren laughed. She ran her hands gently up and down Elsa’s spine. The spirit’s breath slowed as if she was fallen back asleep. “Stay awake snowflake.” Honeymaren whispered reaching down and intertwined her right set of fingers with Elsa’s left. She brought a pale hand to her mouth and gently brushed her lips over the knuckles. Elsa sighed. “You like your hands being touched.” Honeymaren pointed out uncurling Elsa’s hand so she could plant soft kisses on her partner’s palm. She could feel Elsa smile into her neck. Honeymaren took this as an ok to continue. Her lips moved up to Elsa’s sleeved wrist causing her slender fingers to curl into a fist. Honeymaren smirked and lifted the sleeve revealing the soft skin underneath and a rather large scar. Honeymaren paused and sat up taking Elsa’s hand into both of hers. Elsa, who was forced to sit up as well, looked down at her forearm and tensed. She didn’t pull away. “Elsa, what is this?” She asked referring to the vertical six in scar that ran from the base of her wrist upwards. Her eyes narrowed with concern.

   “Can you guess?” Elsa questioned as she grabbed the end of her sleeve between her teeth and pulled it over the raised skin. Honeymaren frowned and shook her head.

     “No. Only when you are ready to tell me or, just let the past be past.” Honeymaren placed her arms on Elsa’s shoulders and leaned in to close the distance between their lips. Elsa pulled away last minute and smiled. Honeymaren gave a disappointed scowl.

    “How adorable. Too bad you are not as good at reading the sun as you are at words.” Elsa poked her in the forehead. “The sun rises later at this time of the year.” She pointed out with an evil smirk. Honeymaren cocked her head. Confusion slowly turned to panicked realization.

    “Shit!” Honeymaren nearly threw Elsa off her lap as she jumped to her feet quicker than Elsa thought possible. She watched as Honeymaren scrambled to get dressed and stumbling out of her tent. Elsa began to dress as she heard Ryder receiving a rude awakening. “Ryder! Wake up you dope!” She could hear Honeymaren yell as she crawled towards the entrance. She poked her head out just in time to see Ryder diving out of her own tent and desperately patting at the area where Bruni had just singed his pants after being startled by Honeymaren.

   “Are you kidding me Maren!?” He asked frantically as his sister grabbed his arm.

   “Use that fire he just lit under your ass and get going!” She ordered dragging the taller sibling away. Elsa smiled suddenly missing Anna. Although she didn’t deal with things as harshly as those two, it made her miss lecturing Anna on her bad sleeping habits.

    “Anna. I need to tell her.” Elsa stood; eyebrows furrowed. When would her mother wake up? And how long would it take her to get strong enough to travel to Arendelle. Elsa sighed and began walking towards tent. “Maybe it’s best to send a letter. I can just have Knokk bring her. No, I can’t do that, not with the overview of the treaty going on. Knowing her she will drop everything to come. Ughh. She’s so stubborn! Even if I tell her that we will come soon when Mother is better how can I expect her to just sit around.” Elsa dropped onto a log in front of Kirk’s tent. Elbows on her knees, she rested her head in her palms.

   “Oh, Elsa yes! I can see reason why the kingdom’s treaty with Corona over cannabis issues far greater importance then the revival of our mother who was supposed to be dead for the past six years.” Elsa Spoke enthusiastically to herself attempting to imitate Anna’s bubbly personality as she let herself fall backwards off the log and onto the soft grass behind her. She laid on her back, legs still remaining on the log, and stared up into a sky.

   She watched the clouds lazily roll by. She shut her eyes and breathed in the warm air. “So warm.” Elsa smiled. “Maybe I’ll just wait for Honeymaren here. She seems to always know what to do. Also…”

     “So beautiful.” She spoke her too herself and opened her eyes. She looked up with a dreamy smile to see Yelena staring down at her.

   “woahhhh!” Elsa yelled. She sat up quickly, hand to her heart and freezing the log.

   “Are the voices in your head having actual conversations now?” Yelena questioned. Elsa stood on her knees and blushed.

   “I um… No?” She stammered. Yelena rolled her eyes.

   “You look like a love sick pup.” Yelena crossed her arms. “Seems though my granddaughter actually had a reason for being late this morning that wasn’t her own fault.” Yelena raised an amused eyebrow. Elsa looked horrified.

    “N – no! not what you think! We didn’t do anything. I mean we did something. I mean I was with her! OW!” Elsa was silenced by a smack to the back of the head. She rubbed her skull and winced up at Yelena. “Would you please not do that.” She stood. Yelena turned her back to her.

   “When I’m dead. Now let’s go, you also have things to attend to.” Yelena ordered as she walked away. Elsa obediently followed.

   The two women entered Yelena’s tent. Yelena uncovered the dagger Iduna had wielded. She held it out towards Elsa. “Don’t touch. Just look.” Yelena warned. Elsa did. She swallowed as the familiar hissing passed through her ears. She felt her chest tighten as a feeling of dread washed over her. She took a shaky step backwards, her body trying to recoil like a wild animal to fire. “ELSA!” Yelena’s voice snapped her out of her trance. Apparently, Yelena was calling out to her the whole time.

   “Do you hear that.” She asked. Yelena said nothing. “You don’t hear that.” Elsa frowned

   “What do you hear.” Yelena asked. Elsa shook her head.

   “I’m not sure exactly. Almost like a bunch of small screaming. It’s…. unsettling.” Elsa explained. Yelena nodded.

   “This weapon contains dark magic. It explains why Nokk could not get to you when it was around. It’s nullifies light spirits. It’s made by human hands and for dark purposes Elsa.” Yelena placed the dagger back into its hidden spot. “I never thought in my lifetime I’d see such a disgusting tool.”

    “How would my mother get such a thing?” Elsa questioned.

    “I was hoping you could tell me Elsa.” Yelena stated.

   “I don’t recognize this at all.” Elsa admitted.

   “I figured as much. Hopefully you can ask her. She’s up.” Yelena revealed. Elsa’s eyes grew wide.

   “What! You didn’t tell me? How long!” Elsa nearly shouted. Yelena raised a hand to silence her.

   “An hour or so.” She told her. Elsa looked like she was ready to jump out of her skin. “I tried to find you but you were…. busy. Also, I needed to discuss this with you before you talked to her so you could ask the right questions.” Yelena explained.

   “Questions? What questions?” Elsa asked frantically. Yelena paused before looking straight into Elsa’s eyes.

    “Question’s such as why would your own mother hold such a dangerous weapon to her daughter’s throat?” She was rewarded with a glare.

    “She did not recognize me.” Elsa defended Iduna.

    “Is that truly what you think?” Yelena asked. Elsa felt anger rise in her chest but felt herself numb.

   “Elsa? Please! Don’t make me do this!” Iduna’s voice vibrated through her head. She jumped as Yelena placed her hand on Elsa’s shoulder.

   “Just remember, don’t think too far ahead.” Yelena began.

   “But keep your judgement strong.” Elsa finished. It was one of the first phrases Honeymaren spoke to here before they began sparing lessons. “Okay.”

   “Go to her then. I’ll be here if you need me. We all will be.” Yelena gave a small smile. Elsa returned it.

   “I know. Thank you.” With that, Elsa left and made her way to Kirk’s tent.  Yelena’s words troubled her but not as much as her mother’s dagger. “Why would she have such a thing?” Elsa questioned. She saw Kirk exit his tent. He waved to her. Elsa returned the gesture.

    “Hello little spirit.” The older man smiled down at her.

   “How is she.” Elsa asked hesitantly.

   “Why don’t you see for yourself.” He encouraged her to enter. She gave her thanks and continued. She entered silently and stood by the door way holding her breath. Iduna was upright dressed in a baggy long sleeve shirt. No doubt a Northuldran spare. She drank from a bowl and placed it beside her when finished. She looked up at Elsa and froze. Her one eye hard at work examining the girl before her. She relaxed and smiled.

   “Look at you. You’re practically glowing.” Iduna Gave a toothy grin. Elsa felt her lip quivering. The thought of the dagger shattered at her mother’s smile. It was her. It was her mother. She was there alive staring at her. Elsa made her way towards Iduna trembling. Iduna watched as Elsa dropped to her knees in front of her. Tears threatened to fall from Elsa’s blue eyes as she fought the urge.

    “Is it really you?” Elsa asked Iduna’s smile softened.

   “I want to ask the same thing my darling.” Iduna’s eye began to form her own tears. Elsa squeezed her arms shut and fell into her mother’s arms.

   “Mother!” She cried gripping onto the older woman’s shirt. Iduna wrapped her arms around her crying daughter. “I thought you were dead! I thought I lost you!” Elsa sobbed. Iduna just held on tight.

    “Shhh. It’s alright Elsa. It’s okay.” Iduna cooed. Elsa pulled back so she could look at her mother.

   “N- no. It’s not! It’s been six years! Six Years since you left Anna and me. You have no idea how hard it has been without you and papa. If it wasn’t for- If it wasn’t for Anna.” She choked out as her tears slowed.

   “You both are together no?” Iduna determined. Elsa nodded.

   “Mhm” She hummed.

  “Where is she?” Iduna asked.

   “Back in Arendelle. I wanted to tell her about you in person, to have you seen in person instead of having Gale give her a hand written note.” Elsa explained. As if on cue. Gale ushered through the tent and swirled happily around Iduna.

   “Ahhhh, hello old friend.” Iduna smiled

   “Gale! Not now!” Elsa scowled. Iduna gave her a confused look.

   “You named the wind spirit Gale?” She chuckled. Elsa gave her a bashful smile.

   “Well no, not exactly. A friend did. Um Olaf.” Elsa tried to explain. Iduna’s pressed her lips together.

   “Olaf?” Iduna had a thoughtful look. “You… and Anna’s snowman.” She concluded.

   “Yes! You remember?” She smiled hopefully. Iduna nodded but looked away.                          

   “You brought him to life.” The smile on Elsa’s face fell at her mother’s matter of fact tone. Iduna looked at her and Elsa caught What she thought was a hint of sadness.

   “I didn’t even know I did it at first. I was just as shocked as Anna when the little snowman ran up to me and introduced himself.” Elsa smiled at the memory. “He’s a hand full. He’s like a little child.”

   “So, he’s still in the same form as when you two use to make him as little girls.” Iduna seemed to be talking more to herself than to her daughter.

   “Form? I suppose so. I mean he’s just a snowman. Well, not just a snowman he’s a special…. Um… snowman?” Elsa gave a sheepish grin as she rubbed the back of her neck. Iduna blinked at her. Elsa blushed before snapping her fingers. “Right! Like this.” Elsa moved to the side of her mother and crossed her legs Indian stile. “May I?” Elsa pointed to a small basin of water near her mother. Iduna nodded and passed the basin over.

    Iduna watched Elsa sit cross legged and hold her hands out inches over the water. “What are you doing darling?”

   “It’s sort of something new I’ve been attempting with my powers.” Elsa explained focusing on her hands.

   “New.” Iduna backed away slightly. Elsa gave her a reassuring smile.

   “Don’t worry. I have control.” Elsa explained and focused on the task in front of her. With a deep breath the water began to freeze from the bottom up. As it reached the top, Elsa exhaled causing a white dusting on the surface. Elsa smiled and looked towards her mother who gazed back with curious eyes. “Okay so, Olaf.” Elsa touched the surface of the frozen basin. Iduna smiled as a mini figure appeared on the surface. Iduna’s Eyes opened in amazement as it ran towards the edge of the basin and looked up at her waving.

     “Hi! I’m Olaf and I like warm hugs!” It called up. The sound of Iduna’s chuckling made Elsa giddy. It was like she was eight again making her mother proud. It waddled back and forth waving at invisible entities.

   “What is he doing?” Iduna asked. Elsa gave a proud smile.

   “He’s talking to people around Arendelle castle. Water has memory and I have a direct link with Olaf since I made him. So, I thought maybe there could be a way to use water to bring up his memories. soon I realized it showed him in his present thoughts.” Elsa explained.

    “Elsa …. That’s amazing.” Iduna watched the little snowman begin to bounce up and down in pure joy as he ran towards something the two could not see. He reached up and began walking as if he was holding someone’s hand. Elsa gave a small laugh.

    “And if I know who he’s thinking about in his heart.” Elsa began to conjure a figure near Olaf who was revealed to be the entity holding onto the little snowman’s hand from above. “Then I can make them appear as well.” She smiled. Her mother gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

    “Is that?” Tears flooded from Iduna’s left eye. Elsa’s eyes glassed over at her mother’s reaction to Olaf looking up at a woman in a long gown.

    “He only ever feels like that when he sees Anna or me.” Elsa explained. She had frozen the two figures where they were. Carefully, she unfroze Anna from the basin and separated her from Olaf. She gently handed the figure to her mother.

   “My baby.” Iduna choked as she carefully took Anna’s figure from her older daughter’s hands. “Look at her. She’s stunning!” Her eyes moved towards the crown on her head. “Elsa. This crown.” She saw her daughter give a bashful smile.

   “Yep. It was yours. Then mine. Now, It’s hers as Arendelle’s queen.” Elsa brought her knees up to her chest.

   “You gave your crown to your sister.” Iduna stated as she played with the frozen hair piece.

    “I did.” She admitted.

    “Why Elsa?” Iduna did not seem angry or even surprised. She seemed extremely curious.

   “The spirits choose us. One to rule over Arendelle and one over Northuldra. Two bloodlines that have merged.” Elsa chuckled. “Though Anna will always be the people’s queen and It seems I’m destined to be beaten by Yelena for the rest of my life. I didn’t need Ahtohallan to tell me that.” She frowned as she saw her mother’s jaw clench.

   “Ahtohallan?” Iduna asked in a low tone. Elsa nodded.

   “Yes. Anna and I, we found your ship. We know you and father were looking for Ahtohallan. I found your letter.” She was confused. Her mother was acting as though she knew something yet nothing at all. “Mother… Where is Father?” She asked. Iduna straightened.

   “I can’t remember.” Iduna answered. Elsa raised an eyebrow.

   “What do you remember?” Elsa asked. Iduna gripped Anna’s figure with both hands and started to tremble.

   “I remember the pain I felt when I lost you two.” Iduna bit her bottom lip. Elsa reached for her mother with her hand when a light caught her eye. The tiny figure of Anna began to glow in her mother’s hands catching both women’s attention. Iduna pulled it away from her chest. Elsa noticed Olaf’s figure glow as well. “Elsa?” Iduna asked. The blond shook her head.

   “I… I don’t think this is me. At least, I don’t know how I’m doing it?” She watched as Olaf fell apart on top of the frozen basin. Elsa moved closer as a new figure was formed by the broken pieces. A small child in a formal suit appeared. He looked to be about twelve. “Who is this boy?” She asked out loud.

    “Elsa. Move away.” Iduna warned. Elsa looked at her mother with confusion.

   “Found you.” The little boy’s voice caused Elsa to jump. She slowly turned her head to see the boy looking up at Iduna.

   “Elsa. Where is the dagger?” Iduna asked not taking her eyes off the child. Elsa didn’t answer.

   “You’re talking.” Elsa spoke down to the tiny figure as she reached for it.

   “Elsa.” Her mother warned from behind her. Her fingers froze as the child turned his face towards her. It looked up at her and her blood turned cold. It wasn’t like any of her snowy figures that she had created before. The child seemed, real. He wore a gray and black suite with icy white hair and his skin. His skin was so pale he looked like a corpse. The worst part however, was his eyes.

    He looked up at her with two blue tinted eyes. One was pale yellow, lifeless. The other, the right, took on the appearance of her own icy blue.  He gave her a wide, frightening smile.

   “I found you, both of you.” He held up his hand. Iduna quickly reacted and threw the tiny Figurine of Anna across the tent before jumping over Elsa. “Boom.” He snapped his fingers and the figurine exploded. Shards of ice flew ripping apart the edges of the tent.

    Elsa opened her eyes and looked up at her mother who hovered over her with a pained expression. Her eyes grew wide as blood began to drip on her face. “MOTHER!” She yelled as she Iduna leaned into her gripping a bloodied shoulder.

    “Why look at that…. you’ve been impaled.” The child laughed Iduna gripped her wounded shoulder and glared at the boy.

    “Elsa. Where is my dagger?” Iduna asked, not taking her eyes off of the child.  

    “It’s in Yelena’s tent. What is going on!?” Elsa yelled. The boy raised both his hands and clapped them together.

   “Elsa! Down!” Iduna yelled. Elsa reacted quicker this time and threw up an ice shield as the whole basin exploded. When it was quite Elsa released her magic and looked around the destroyed tent. The figurines and basin all destroyed.

   “ELSA!” Yelena yelled. Elsa and Iduna saw the Elder and a few other concerned Northuldran making their way through the destroyed tent. “What on earth happened!?”

  “I don’t know!” Elsa explained horrified. She had no control over the situation. She felt panic rise in her chest.

   “It wasn’t Elsa!” Iduna cried out in pain. Elsa’s panic turned to worry.

   “Please help! She’s been hurt!” Elsa yelled. Kirk was by their side. Yelena as well.

   “Let’s move her to a different tent.” Kirk said as he helped Iduna stand.

   “Can you walk Mother?” Elsa was right by her side. Iduna gave her a reassuring smile.

   “Yes love. It’s not that bad. It just grazed me.” She explained.

   “Even so.” Kirk began. “I’d like to avoid infection in your current state.”

   “Elsa.” Yelena began. “I need you to stay put and tell me what happened.”

   “But I.” Elsa began. She looked at her mother.  

   “I will be alright Elsa.” She smiled. Elsa still shaken from the events, reluctantly agreed and Kirk took Iduna away. Elsa explained the past half hour or so to Yelena as Tribes members cleaned up the debris.

    “I honestly have no idea what it means.” Elsa had begun pacing back and forth while telling the story.

    “A vision maybe?” Yelena offered. “It said it found you.”

    “It said it found both of us.” Elsa said. “Whatever it was.” Elsa wrapped her arms around herself.  Yelena hummed in understanding.

   “I have a feeling Iduna can tell us more.” She began to walk towards the tent where Kirk had brought Iduna. Elsa quickly followed. They entered the tent to see Iduna with her baggy shirt removed. She held up a blanket to cover her chest has Kirk worked on her shoulder.

   “How is it?” Elsa asked. Iduna was swaying, no doubt from a quick shot of dream wine, but otherwise seemed fine.

   “Needs a few stitches.” Kirk replied as he began. Iduna flinched with every poke to her skin. Elsa sat beside her mother as her shoulder was sewn up. She grabbed her hand.

   “You say that wasn’t Elsa’s doing. Then whose was it Iduna?” Yelena waisted no time. Elsa looked from Yelena to her mother. Iduna looked away.

   “Mother you need to tell us the truth. You need to tell me about that boy and the dagger.” Elsa said sternly. Iduna looked at her with unfocused eyes.

   “That was no boy. He is the creation of a very powerful person. He displays the anger and rage that has consumed her.” Kirk finished and gently wrapped Iduna’s shoulder. “He’s after me because I stole her dagger.” Iduna explained. Elsa pressed her lips together.

   “Mother… who is she?” The questioned scared her.

  “If she knows where I am, she will eventually come. Once again, I’ve put you and Anna in danger.” Iduna explained.

   “Mother stop avoiding the question. Who is she?” Elsa pressed. Iduna took a deep breath.

   “I wish I had a little more time to appreciate this reality before telling you.” Iduna gave a sad smile. Elsa shook her head in confusion.

   “Speak sense Iduna. This is no game.” Yelena ordered. Elsa watched as her mother chuckled.

   “Ever the stern Elder you’ve always been Yelena.” Iduna grinned.

   “And you are still the troublesome brat I remembered.” Yelena scoffed. “Your daughters didn’t fall far from the tree.” Yelena crouched before the younger woman. “Now for their sake. Tell us why they are in danger.” She said. Iduna nodded and squeezed Elsa’s hand.

   “That boy is Olaf. The Olaf I know.” Iduna explained. Elsa let go of her hand and stared at her. “He’s from a different time Elsa. My time. My world. I’m sorry my love but I’m not the mother that you remember.”

[grandtheftstarship]

Painted Roses (Barista!Jim Kirk x Artist!Fem!Reader) [Request!]

“So, Jim is a barista in a coffe shop /he could be the owner too, but it's not that important / and the reader always goes there but she never drinks coffee just hot chocolate or sometimes tea. She's an artist and she always goes there and sits there for hours just drawing people in her sketchbook. Sometimes she's all covered in paint. /continuing/... And she somehow caught Jims attention and one time she forgets about time and sits there all day, Jim brings her refills time to time maybe some desserts to eat because she kinda forgots... Until Jim tells them that it's closing time, but they start a conversation an they sit there for a litte while longer... ||Sorry for the long ask, if you don't want to do it, it's fine, still love ya! 💕 Have a nice day ❤️” - @rh-girlonfire

I love this request SOOOOOOOOOO much!!! Mainly because I like to think of myself of an artist :) I can never get enough of coffee shop AUs! Please enjoy :) Love you too ❤︎

Also THANK YOU ALL FOR FOLLOWING ME!!! I just reached 100 and even though it’s a small milestone it still means a lot to me :) Thank you all for supporting me and what I love to do! Love you all ❤︎

P.S- I just wanted to let you all know that I see it when you guys comment and reblog! I just can’t respond because this is a secondary blog, so it won’t come up as me :( Just know that I see you, and I appreciate you!!! Every time someone comments or reblogs it makes me so happy :) Did I mention that I love y’all?

Word Count: 2157 Warnings: mega fluff, I’m pretty sure this is my favorite thing I’ve ever written ever, swearing, keep a lookout for the Office reference ;)

Take a shot every time I use the word sometimes lol

You didn’t know when you first started coming to the quaint little coffee shop on the corner of your block, and you didn’t know when you started making a habit out of it. Once or twice a month turned into several times a week, and then suddenly you were there for several hours a day to work on your projects. You found the atmosphere warm and inviting, as opposed to your cramped apartment down the street that you could barely afford.

 Yes, you were a starving artist. But that didn’t make your art any less meaningful. Ever since the first day you had been coming, you had your table. It was the smaller booth in the corner by one of the large windows overlooking the park and the busy street. It was also dotted with paint marks, but the owner didn’t seem to mind. 

It was the barista, though, that caught your eye. Every single day, he was there ready with one of your usuals. You never drank coffee, it was usually tea or hot chocolate. He usually chose for you, but you didn’t mind. Whatever he made tasted delicious. You always ordered ‘for here’, enjoying the cute, white mugs with the pretty art he made with the cream in your hot chocolate or with the honey in your tea. It was different every day, sometimes a flower, or a cute face, and one time he made an elaborate heart with swirls and sprinkles which made you blush as you thanked him. 

On days you were really working hard, you were there from opening to closing now and again, he would bring you refills and sometimes small deserts. You would pull your headphones back and thank him, smiling as he would rub the back of his neck, bashful. You thought it was cute.

In fact, you thought he was cute all the time. On days you weren’t really working on big pieces you would just pull out your sketchbook and draw the people around you, but mainly it was him, dressed in his black apron and a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You would draw him from various angles; walking with the serving platters filling both his hands, smiling at a customer, washing things in the sink: rough sketches of him filled many pages in your book. 

Other days, you would decide to paint outside in the park in the morning to get practice with realistic nature, get covered in paint, and then head over to the coffee shop for your afternoon drink. It was on these days that you felt the most insecure since you were in your painting overalls and your old vintage Queen T-shirt underneath and you were covered in various colors and stages of dried paint. There was even paint in your hair or on your face sometimes, and the barista (who, after you finally took notice of his nametag, was named Jim) would kindly point it out to you. You would get red in the face and frantically try to wipe it off, getting more paint on your already paint-splattered hands; it was all just a mess. 

Today was not one of those days, though; today you were working in your sketchbook, doodling and working on drawing people. You came in early, some twenty minutes after they had opened. Jim was there as you walked in, beaming as you walked up to the counter. 

“Hey,” he greeted, pushing a mug full of steaming cocoa up to you. 

You peeled your headphones back to rest on your neck as you pulled out some wrinkled dollar bills. You frowned. You didn’t realize how low you had been getting on money and you knew exactly where it had all been going. Nevertheless, you put a smile on your face and slid the money across the counter to him. 

“Hey,” you returned the hello, lifting the mug from the counter. “What’s my drink of the day today?”

“Well, we just got some new teas in so I thought I fix one up for you,” he replied. “This one is Chamomile Citrus, with three swirls of honey just how you like it.”

You smiled, pink dusting your cheeks. “Thanks, Jim.”

Your blush deepened as his face reddened up at the sound of his name coming from your lips. It was the first time you had ever called him by name, and you felt like he liked it. He did. 

You moved away before he could say anything else, heading over to your table and settling in. You pulled your headphones on and unpacked your backpack, flipping your sketchbook open to the next blank page and getting started. 

                                                    _______________

Jim didn’t know when he first started noticing her. Maybe it was when she first started coming in with paint splattered all over her overalls, maybe it was when he first saw her set out her paints. He didn’t really care, all that mattered was that he noticed her now. 

He had never been so captivated by someone like he was by her, his typical pulled-together demeanor was thrown out the window when she entered the shop and when she smiled all of his insides turned to mush. He didn’t even know her name. 

So, in order to capture her attention, he started writing down her orders for future reference, such as how much whipped cream she liked on her hot cocoa, or how much honey she preferred in her tea. There was one thing he knew for sure; no coffee. 

He figured out that she was pretty lenient when it came to her orders, so he started making them ahead of time. He knew that she would be in almost every day, so he made them when he had a free minute. He even started practicing latte art on other customers’ orders to try and impress her. He felt like she enjoyed it. She did.  

He would never forget the time the flower he meant to do on her hot chocolate one time morphed into a heart that actually looked pretty good so he decided to just go for it. Her face was exactly what he wanted, her cute cheeks turning a soft pink and her thank you coming out a bit quieter. 

He couldn’t deny the fact that he was attracted to her. He had been with plenty of girls, but it was different this time. His palms would get sweaty when he saw her come in and butterflies would spring up in his stomach when she thanked him for whatever thing he had brought her. 

He caught himself staring at her sometimes when hours were slow, noting how her bottom lip got caught in her teeth as she concentrated, and how that one strand of [h/c] hair fell into her eyes every so often and how she would blow it out of her face and keep working. He was mesmerized by it all. The only problem was that he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with those feelings. 

There wasn’t exactly an outlet for him to let them out through and he didn’t want to sleep with other girls, so he kept them in a little jar in the back of his mind. When he lied alone at night in the small apartment above the shop (that the owner, Leonard, had graciously let him stay in), he would let them out and let himself feel in full throttle. Sometimes it was a lot to handle.

He didn’t realize how much he felt for her until she came in only a few minutes after he opened with a large canvas. She didn’t go to the counter right away since her hands were full, so Jim came to her. He set her iced tea on the table out of the way, humming as she thanked him. 

He wiped his sweaty hands on his apron as he walked away, only then understanding what he had gotten himself into.

                                             _______________

You had never been there this long. You barely noticed the time passing as you painted, concentrating hard on the details. You hadn’t even realized that you had started painting the cafe storefront until you started mixing the paint. You decided to just go with it. 

Jim brought you little pastries and refills from time to time, making sure you wouldn’t be disturbed. Even he didn’t disturb you, letting you enjoy your time listening to [your favorite band] and just paint to your little heart’s content.

That was, until closing time rolled around. 

You didn’t know that you had been there for that long until Jim tapped your shoulder and you jumped, like, three feet in the air. 

You yanked back your headphones and smacked him in the arm. 

“You scared me!” you gasped. He chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you, but...” He waved his arm at the empty floor. 

“Oh...” you sighed in disappointment. You had really wanted to finish your project before the day was over. 

“I mean... if you want to stay I could close up shop and we can talk or something while you finish...?” he asked it like a question and a smile spread across your face at his flustered expression. 

“Sure,” You replied. “You got an aux cord?”

He nodded, leading you behind the counter and letting you plug your phone in and shuffle your playlist. 

“Wanna help me?” he asked, beckoning you over to the counter.

“With what?” you wondered, walking over.

“With the drinks,” he picked up the box of your favorite tea. “Tea sound good?”

You nodded, grinning. He showed you how to mix the two teas together and how he made honey flowers to float on top of the steaming mug before they dissolved into the hot drink. He fixed himself one before shutting off all the lights besides the one above your table and sat in the booth across from you that had gone unused for so long.

Your music played softly in the background as you resumed painting, Jim watching your brush intently. 

You looked up sharply, catching him off guard. “Wanna play A Question Game?”

“A question game?” Jim repeated, bemused.

“Yeah, like where we ask each other random questions to get to know each other better.”

“Is this what you do on all of your first dates?” he smirked. 

“What’s a first date without the basics?” you mirrored his expression. “You go first.”

“What’s your name?” he questioned.

“[y/n],” you replied, not looking up. “[y/n] [l/n].”

He let your name roll around his mind, liking the feel of it. “Your turn.”

“What’s your last name?” you glanced at him, a smile playing on your lips.

“Kirk,” he responded. “James T. Kirk.”

You looked up quickly. “Your real name is James?”

“What did you think it was?” he chuckled. “Jimothy?”

You laughed, enjoying the reference. Jim’s eyes bore into yours. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before,” he said, a little quieter. “You should do it more often.”

You sent him a knowing smile. “Next question, Kirk.”

The game went on like that for at least another hour or so, basic questions like favorite colors, birthdays, favorite shows, hometowns, etcetera etcetera. You learned that Jim’s favorite color was purple, his birthday was on March 22, and he was from Rivertown Iowa.

“I think I’m finished,” you said suddenly, wiping your paintbrush off on a paper towel and putting it in the water.

“Oh yeah?” Jim stood. “Let’s see it.”

You propped it up and turned to look at it, pride flooding your senses. 

“Wow,” he breathed. “This is amazing.”

“Thank you,” you said shyly, cleaning up your things and putting them back into your backpack. “Well, I really should be going.”

You started to open your wallet to pay for the food, but Jim stopped you by putting his hand over yours. Heat blew up in your cheeks, as you met his gaze. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, eyes flicking down to the painting. “If you want, you can pay by letting me hang that on the wall.”

You eyes blew open wide. “Seriously? You want my art on your wall?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I really do.”

You stared back into his blue eyes and let him close the distance between you, liking the feeling of his smooth lips against yours. He pulled away first, stomach flipping at the sight of your eyes still closed. They opened slowly and you smiled up at him. 

“Second date?” he asked, leaning his forehead against yours.

You giggled, raising your hand up to boop his nose.

“Mhm,” you hummed, pecking his lips before pulling out of his embrace. You picked up your backpack and slung it over your shoulder, holding your headphones. “See you tomorrow?”

“Same time same place,” he grinned as you smiled and waved as you left, pulling your headphones over your ears and putting your hands in your pockets as you started walking down the street to your apartment. 

Both of you thinking about what a wonderful day you had.

[impalaanddemons]

Enterprise Crowd - Snowy Christmas Special Part 2

Summary: A mission gone wrong. A landing party stranded in a snow storm. A relationship that needs some serious alone time. She is our mutinous Lieutenant Reader, part of Enterprise IT. He’s her commanding chief engineer. And they’re 60 inches deep in snow. Wordcount: 1500ish A/N: What do your elven eyes see? Ohhhhh it’s the second part of the fluffy fluffy christmas special. It’s just fluff. Seriously. I wanted to write fluff. PWP?! Warnings: Cursing, more cursing, rocky relationship, age difference, there is so much fluff on the horizon you have no idea, i hope you’re excited as i am

You stared at each other for what felt like a full minute in the freezing wind, although merely seconds passed. „It’s bitter cold here, Sir. And you aren’t wearing a life suit.“ „I would’nae have to, if someone would listen for once.“ he barked and stepped over to your side, leaving a visible trail in the snow. You perked your head to give him some clever retort, but he cut you short with what resembled some sort of low growl containing all his disapproval. „There’s a starfleet safehouse a mile east. Get going.“

You lifted an eyebrow at him and he laughed that short barking laughter again. “What, lass? Ye think this old engineer doesn’t have trick or two up his sleeve?“

When you arrived at the safehouse you were frozen to the bone despite your thick clothing and didn’t even want to think about how the scotsman felt. It was more of a hut then a safehouse if you had to be completely honest. The walls could use a paint job and at least one of the windows looked like it was more of a decor then a functioning piece of architecture. „You serious?“ „Ye wanna sleep outside?“ „Yeah. No. Fair point.“ you conceded and headed inside with him.

The inside of the warehouse - hut - was only marginally better - the wind whistled through a window that couldn’t be shut completely anymore and by morning the snow would’ve piled up to the roof. Kirk personally would’ve to shovel you out of that. „Ah, look, lass. They got a fireplace.“ „How .. romantic.“ you offered. The scotsman gave you a serious side eye, then went on to grab some firewood - conveniently stacked in a corner of the room - and began starting a fire in the open fireplace. It did seem rather archaic for starfleet, but who knew how long this hut had been defying the storms of this planet. „You were a boyscout?“ you lifted your eyebrows, sitting down on the edge of one of the cots in the room. It was still too cold to slip out of your environmental suit. Guilt  pinched at your gut. „Boyscout“ he huffed and stared at the small flames already licking up at the wood he had placed down.

„I’m a scotsman, Y/N! I grew up with this.“ he almost seemed cheerful now. Which was better than having a fight about your stubbornness. „Father always took me out camping when I was a laddie.“ he continued, poking the fire with an iron stick. „We’d go fishing. Have a campfire. Ah, good times.“ he chuckled to himself while the fire started blazing, engulfing the first small log of wood he’d carefully placed there. „You make it sound like it was a hundred years ago, Monty.“ you answered and immediately felt the blood rush to your face at the use of your term of endearment for her. It had just slipped out of your mouth and you bit your tongue for its betrayal. The chief commander turned around to face you - his face had gone soft, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was a handsome bastard. Tall and with muscles in the right places and a small tummy the uniform usually hid away. „I am an old man, lass.“ he answered and, after making sure that the fire was really going now, threw another log into it. The flames shot up. It would be warm in no time in the small room.

„Getting older by the minute.“ „You’re not that old.“ you carefully avoided another term of endearment, instead started pulling at the zipper of your suit. „Old enough for ya.“ Instead of an answer, you just rolled your eyes. Aside from being loyal and occasionally funny he was also stubborn enough to cover for a donkey if there was ever need for it. You slipped out of one arm of your suit in silence and listened to the storm outside howling and ripping at the hut. Listened to the fire crackling and your own heartbeat. „Ye should come over here.“ he said. „And sit on the ground? Eh. No.“ you slipped out of the other arm and then straightened up to slip out of the rest of the uniform. Too busy for a moment you didn’t notice the chief engineers eyes on you immediately - only when he looked up and you realized that you were only wearing a shirt and shorts did you make the connection between his expression and his half parted lips. You had seen that expression on his face before. A few times in fact. And the first time you saw that face was back when you had shared the first night together. You shuddered involuntarily and turned your face away. „Nothing I haven’t seen before“ he muttered, his voice in its lowest register now.

Goosebumbs crept up your arms despite the warmth of the fire. „Oh“ you looked over your shoulder and smirked at him. „Have you been spying on me, Mr. Scott?“ „I should, maybe you’d be more willing to follow your orders then?“ „Way to ruin the mood, Mr. Scott.“ you shot back and pulled a blanket of the nearest cot to wrap yourself in it. „Ye did think i’d just gonna let it pass?“ he poked the fire once more, then added another log. „I had hoped you’d fall for my charm." He raised his eyebrows and closed the distance between the two of you. His face was stern and earnest and full of intent, it took your breath away when he turned you around with one hand. „But I already have, Y/N.“ he said. A soft expression settled in the corner of his eyes, the tug at his lips. „I have a long time ago.“ his hand cupped your chin - his rough fingertips, still cold from the weather outside. You lifted your own hands and put them on his. Hot and cold. There was always a faint smell of oil and electronics on him and that other part that made him him. Your eyes found his and you smiled a little. He bent down - oh he was definitely your type how could you ever have denied that? - and placed a small kiss on your lips. You sighed. „I’m sorry.“ He quirked his head a little, like he always did when something caught him by surprise. „Lass, I need to put the date down.“ „Oh, shut up.“ you laughed. „I should call Mr. Scofield. Wait.“ he ducked away from your hands and flipped open his communicator. „You don’t.“ you snatched it out of his hands, still laughing and threw it on the bed. He chuckled, a beaming smile on his face. His right arm caught you while moving and pulled you close, right into his tight embrace.

You could drown in his arms. Surrender to his tight grip forever. A warmth that had nothing to do with the flames filled your heart and made it pump frantically. „Yer a bullhead.“ he whispered. You could feel his lips moving at your ear now. „I learned from the best.“ you muttered your voice fluttering uneasy. The scotsman chuckled. A low, warm rumble that tickled down your spine. He gently pushed you backward until the hollow of your knees hit the cot. You stood there for a second, his  free hand, the one not nestled around your hip, moving up to your hair, burying itself wistfully.

Another gentle push from him, toppling you onto the cot as gentle as possible. „Ye need to lemme under that blanket“ You had to stifle a laughter at the engineer gently pulling with two fingers at the blanket. „If you ask that nicely.“ He pushed back - just a little, not letting go of you but creating enough space to pull another blanket over the two of you.

Then he climbed onto the cot as well - some shuffling and shoving and a bit of laughter. His lips in your hair and on your forehead, he pulling you half over him like a separate blanket until you lay in his arm, the both of you fitting barely so on the cot. „No one move now.“ his voice was raspy at your ear. His lips tugged at your earlobe, the soft skin of your neck almost lazily. „I hate you.“ you sighed, leaning into his warmth and idle caressing. „Ye liar.“ You smiled to yourself. He was right, of course.

TAG LIST YES IM STILL DOING THAT (guys tagging is like an episode of GoT right now where is everyone *sighs*)

@webhoard @inaugural13 @thebloody3agle @sassymissmyra@flowerbunbunny @anotherotterlover @theleonardmccoy@thewalkingdeanisdanielhowell @dirajunara-archive@mustanglegends @elinanve @gracieinanovel @noodledragonoverloard @newhappiness430 @ambie2020 @trashcan-to-end-all-trashcans @biologik

[mtraki]

 “They don’t have any riding skirts in stock…” Catherine explained, doing her best to hide her disappointment.  The tailor apologized again, saying something about shipment schedules, but Jenny’s attention was fixed on her beautiful and proper friend.

 “That’s a shame,” She said without inflection, then shrugged, hearing Karen and Mary-Beth giggling in the dressing room, “... Really, Catherine, I don’t know why you bother with those silly riding skirts anyway.”

 “I only have the one petticoat, my dear, and it won’t support riding astride, even if I were to have a skirt that might-- which, I remind you, I do not.”

 Jenny snorted, “So buy some trousers.”

 The tailor stared at her.  Catherine stared at her. Jenny gave the tailor a dirty look, making clear it was wiser he find his own business to mind, and he scuttled over to fuss with one of the hanging outfits.

 “Jenny… I’m a lady…”

 “So?  Your legs split in the middle like everyone else, don’t they?”

 “Well, yes, of course--”

 “--So they’ll fit in trousers, which, as it turns out, were made with ridin’ horses in mind.”

 “You cannot be serious…”

 The pale-eyed lady looked at her, then around at the tailor shop, the primary reason they’d come all the way to Blackwater, despite the risk, and then back at Jenny, “...It’s… highly unorthodox, my dear. A woman of my status wearing trousers… it would draw a lot of attention…”

 Sneering, Jenny teased, “You’re right.  Maybe you ought ask yer daddy first?”

 Catherine startled like she’d been slapped, “What!--"

 “-- Or your man--”

 Straightening, the lady’s hands went to her hips and her voice turned ice cold and sharp, “--I don’t need anyone’s permission to wear anything, Miss Kirk, let us have that understanding first and foremost!”

 “That’s more like it!” The other woman laughed, “Now come on, just try a pair on!  I’m sure you’ll like ‘em once you do…”

 Slowly lowering her hackles, Catherine sighed and shook her head, “... Oh alright…”

 The tailor had her measurements already, so despite any opinions on the matter he might have (which he wisely kept to himself) he provided a selection of trousers in various colors, fabrics, and styles in sizes that would best fit her (with minimal alterations).  Leaving the pale-eyed lady to her decisions, he gratefully left her to assist Mary-Beth with the vast selection of shawls.

 Jenny started to step away also, apparently intrigued by the new hats on display, when Catherine called, “... I just realized… I don’t think I’ve ever seen-- Jenny do you wear trousers?”

 “I own a pair I’ve worn once or twice.  Does it make a difference?”

 The lady gave her dark-eyed friend a look, “Here you stand, taunting me about trousers when you hardly wear yours…?  It isn’t kind to make fun of me, Miss Kirk.”

 Sighing her exasperation, the outlaw said, “I ain’t, either.  Do as you like, Miss Fancy! Wear your tore-up ridin’ skirt until you can buy a new one.  Or buy a less fancy petticoat, a new crinoline, and a skirt to wear. Or go nekkid for all I give a damn!”

 They looked at each other a few moments, then Catherine said, “... Why do these have leather sewn on the backside?” holding up a pair of warm brown work pants.

 Jenny laughed, “Oh, those’re padded work pants.  I think the leather is so you stick to the saddle better.”

 Laughing also, the pale-eyed lady said, “... I might want to consider them, then… it might help save me from falling off another time before the year is up.”

 “If anything can.” The other teased.

 “How unkind!” But Catherine laughed still.

 “You gonna try ‘em on?  Won’t be long before them Callander boys get bored-- or too drunk-- and start makin’ trouble.”

 “Yes… Let me try these few, then…”

 Karen stopped them on their way to the dressing room, on her way out from trying on a new blouse that had caught her eye.

 “... Miss, what’re you doin’ with those trousers?”

 Jenny ushered Catherine forward again, “She’s gon’ try ‘em on.  What you think she’s doin’? Keepin’ ‘em company?”

 “... But they’re trousers…”

 “That’s what I said!” Catherine laughed as Jenny pushed her into the dressing room.

 Reaching over, Karen grabbed the curtain before the other outlaw could close it, and pushed her way in, “This I have to see!”

 With a scoff and roll of her eyes, the pale-eyed lady handed her selections to the other two women, “You might as well make yourselves useful, then, if you insist on teasing me the entire time…”

 The blonde ended up handing the pair of trousers she was holding to Jenny to help Catherine out of her coat and riding skirt, “You gonna wear these trousers with your corset?”

 Jenny burst out laughing at the open bafflement on the fancy lady’s face.

 “I… I hadn’t planned on taking it-- should I not?”

 “You and Grimshaw are the only ones who wear one every day,” Karen told her, “Hell, I’m only wearing one because we’re in town and not at the saloon!”

 “Trousers waist ain’t gonna work well with your corset if it comes down proper…” Jenny warned between laughs.

 Catherine sighed, muttering something in one of her foreign languages, “...Well… alright, help me take it off, then… If I’m going to scandalize the town and the camp, I might as well do it right the first time.”

 “Oh, we’ll call the papers,” Jenny rolled her eyes, “‘Miss Catherine’s got her tits out’…”

 Karen snorted laughter, “The men’ll like that!”

 “I’m still wearing my combinations and blouse, thank you!”

 The blouse did have to come off first, to facilitate the removal of the corset.  Jenny and Karen both admired her combinations. Karen announced an intention to get some of her own some day, while Jenny shrugged and said she didn’t have a desire for ‘lacy fancy things’.

 Catherine grinned as she pulled her blouse back on, “Maybe Mister Summers has a desire for lacy fancy things?”

 “Did Mister van der Linde?” Jenny needled back.

 “Yes.” Catherine shrugged, “As you might have guessed.”

 “What about Mister Morgan?”

 Shrugging, Catherine reached for the first pair of trousers, the padded work pants, “I don’t know.  I suppose we’ll have to ask him.”

 Karen and Jenny exchanged a look before the blonde outlaw blurted, “You mean he didn’t see in Tumbleweed?”

 Before the lady could answer, the curtain was suddenly drawn aside, and Mary-Beth was standing there, “I had wondered what you ladies--Miss Catherine are you wearing trousers?!”

 Karen dragged her in and closed the curtain again while Catherine rolled her eyes and sighed long-suffering.

 “Almost… certainly not enough for the public eye, Miss Gaskill…”

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…  But… trousers?”

 Finishing with the donning and fastening, the pale-eyed lady regarded herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands against her hips, turning this way and that, “...What do you think, Jenny?”

 “You look fine.  How do they feel?”

 “Strange.” She looked at the blonde in the mirror, “... What about you, Miss Jones?”

 “They look alright, I guess,” Was the answer, then she grinned, “Nice to know you got a bit of a rump there and it ain’t all crinoline and paddin’...”

 “Not all of us are blessed with your commanding, womanly physique, my dear.” Catherine smiled, “Mary-Beth?”

 “... I think the boys are goin’ to have some things to say…” She answered, “... Not to mention Miss Grimshaw.”

 “... I’ll deal with that when the time comes, I suppose.”

 Jenny waved the pairs she was still holding, “You trying these on or am I just holdin’ them for show?”

 “No, no… Here let me…” Catherine laughed as she worked the button-front, “... You think I’d know as often as I’ve done this for men… but it really is easier to get in and out of…”

 Once again assisting, Karen grunted, “... Maybe.  But doin’ a necessary is gonna be a pain… Men can just open and pull out.  Yer gonna go bare arsed to make water.”

 The lady blinked, apparently not realizing herself until it was said, “... That won’t be pleasant in the cold at all…”

 The ladies laughed together, and Catherine put on the next pair of trousers, this one a dove gray pair of wide-legged pants.  Jenny didn’t like them, but could tell right away that Catherine very much did from her expression and the way she held herself straighter as she turned to admire them in the mirror.

 “You want to get those, then?” She asked, wrinkling her nose.

 “No…” Catherine started to open them again.

 “No?  You liked those!  I could tell-- are they expensive?” Mary-Beth cried, “I can lend you a bit of money…  You looked so nice in them, really!”

 “They’re lovely,” The lady said, “but not as practical as the other pair.”

 “Get the ones you like,” Jenny told her, “These will do fine.”

 “I’ll get those others.” Announced Miss Schofield stubbornly.

 Karen looked at Mary-Beth and said, “... Keep your money, girl.  We’ll just let Arthur know…”

 “Oh!”

 Catherine looked over, “... Let Arthur know what…?”

 “Oh, nothing,” The blonde grinned, “just how you was mooning over these pants you didn’t see fit to get for yourself.”

 “... I don’t understand.”

 “Yes you do.” Jenny told her, tugging on the sleeve of her new coat hung on the wall hook.  The one Arthur had bought for her. It was a nice coat-- certainly worth some good money, with thick fur on the inside and around the lapels and collar.

 The reaction was immediate: Catherine flushed a dark pink from her hairline all the way down to what could be seen of her decolletage, “You will not!”

 Mary-Beth giggled.  Karen and Jenny couldn’t help but cackle wickedly.

 “There’s nothing wrong with letting a man treat you now and again, Catherine…”

 “I’ve found that very much depends on the man, Karen…”

 Batting her eyelashes, the freckled brunette said, “Oh, but Arthur’s a good sort…”

 Jenny rolled her eyes.  Karen scoffed, “Grumpy sort… but he does try to take care of us girls, I suppose…”

 The lady frowned at the three of them, “... I’ll buy these two then, if only so you don’t try and put any ideas into anyone’s head that he should get them for me.”

 “Fine,” Jenny laughed, “Is that you decided, then?  Can I go look at hats now?”

 “By all means,” Catherine answered, “Before the tailor wonders what we’re plotting in here…”

 “‘Ent roight fer a lass t’ware trousers.” Mac professed with all the blunt sagacity that could be expected of him at the bottom of as many bottles as he was.

 “My dear, Mister Callander,” The pale-eyed lady sighed, “where were you ten minutes ago when I was being harangued by these brigands?”

 “Wot?”

 “Nevermind,” Laughed Miss Jones as she sashayed herself over to the bar next to the drunken outlaw, “I wouldn’t take any advice from this fool.”

 “You hush, wench!” Scolded the man, “‘Ent roight, oi say.”

 To be fair, the nature of the looks Catherine was getting were a little different from the usual.  Though she was often turning every head in any place with her looks and gracious mannerisms, it was clear her current apparel was giving them something to chew over they didn’t seem to much like the taste of.

 “... If it’s all the same to you,” She said quietly, “... I’d rather we were on our way.”

 That Mac didn’t answer, and his brother hadn’t even looked over a second time from his poker game in the corner, made clear that they weren’t for leaving any time soon.

 Jenny didn’t often turn down a drink, but she was eager to get back to camp and see if Lenny had come back from his ride south, looking for leads. “Yeah, alright.  We’ll go, then. Miss Jones? Miss Gaskill?”

 “I’ll keep an eye on these two,” The blonde replied, waving over the bartender.

 Mary-Beth fidgeted a moment before letting out her breath, giving Catherine a hopeful look, “... I should head back too.  Miss Grimshaw wanted me earlier for something…”

 The lady was, as ever, quick to catch on, “Best come with us, then.  I’ll just have to let her know you were helping me.”

 Miss Kirk knew that they were betting on Susan’s good opinion of Miss Schofield to come through as it usually did-- the lady had a way with her, there could be no doubting-- but she didn’t put much stock in the old nan-goat’s ‘good opinion’.  Susan Grimshaw was a moody old bitch, and with the camp’s opinions turned against Catherine, Jenny suspected that the girls’ reliance on her to get them out of trouble would only get Catherine in more trouble.  Already she could hear the harsh voice cracking out about how ‘Miss Schofield fancies herself a lady with maids to help her spend up all their money’.

 Nevermind how the money had been earned by Catherine herself.

 Out by the hitching posts, the two more-experienced thieves mounted up while Catherine checked her leathers.  She’d grown even more strict about it since some mysterious incident where her latigo and one of the headpiece leathers of her bridle had needed replacing-- fortunately, more than one man in camp knew how to cut and stitch leather to suit, and there had been spare hide around.  Apparently finding everything in order, she too mounted up and they were on their way.

 “It is strange how that happened…” Miss Gaskill observed, “your bridle and your latigo…”

 Catherine shrugged, “Bad luck, I guess.”

 “Maybe,” Then the curly-haired brunette looked at her, “... How do your trousers feel in the saddle?”

 “... I’m not sure I want to say,” Was the answer with a grin, “as I’d rather not listen to Jenny’s ‘I told you so’s the whole ride back.”

 “Ha!  I did tell you so!  They ride nice, don’t they!”

 Susan had an earful for them when they got back.  Something must have happened, for she was in a temper, and could find pleasure in nothing.  Tilly had apparently rushed off in tears and was in hiding somewhere after being on the receiving end of the matron’s sharp tongue most of the day.  With new victims, she was quick to scold Jenny and Mary-Beth for being gone so long, for leaving Karen behind, for returning without the men, and for letting all the chores pile up.   Catherine quickly came to their defense, and though Susan quieted long enough to hear her, her hands were firmly on her hips and a scowl deep in her face.

 When Miss Schofield was finished, the camp boss informed her sharply that if she wanted to be treated like a proper lady, she ought to dress like one.  Laughing at this, Catherine said that wearing trousers didn’t make her less of a lady.

 “Ladies don’t wear such things.  You look foolish.  How can anybody take you seriously-- I don’t know how you can expect me to!”

 “Well,” Catherine smiled, “if the way I dress dictates my treatment, will you treat me like a man, Miss Grimshaw?”

 Mary-Beth slapped a hand over her own mouth.  Jenny didn’t bother and cackled loudly before catching sight of Lenny and heading over.  The old nan-goat was still gaping at Catherine’s retort.

 Behind her, Jenny heard Catherine call loudly in a sugary tone, “What do you think, Mister Morgan?  Do I still look fine?”

 From her peripheral, Jenny saw Arthur staring openly alongside Hosea where they had apparently been discussing something.  The big outlaw chuckled and shook his head, either bashful or embarrassed or both, “... Miss, you could be wearin’ a potato sack an’ still look fine…”

 “... Your idea?” Mister Summers was saying quietly, taking her hands with a smile, clearly hearing the victory in her laugh.

[mmazzeroo]

Chapter 17: ARYA V - Lord Dayne In Uniform

@helloimnotawesome - Chapter 17 ready for you! Hope uni isn’t stressing you out still, and if so I hope this chapter can bring a little piece of joy to your day. Love ya, sis! <3

ARYA V - Lord Dayne In Uniform:

Kintsugi is a silent proof of survival.' She didn't like to admit it, because the gods knew she hated to be wrong, but Jon had done the near-impossible. He'd managed to find a way to have Sansa understand that she was worthy and still beautiful - and should be proud of her scars and the story they told. Sansa and Jon have both survived so much and still manage to have so much light within them just bursting to get out. Maybe we're all a little broken and that's how the light gets in? Man, I need to study Naathi and YiTi cultures some more!

She'd apologised and hugged it out with Sansa before helping herself to another round of Jon's stew. When she'd visited him a while back he'd cooked fish for her on the coals of the fire and it was delicious! Oh yeah, and uncle Benjen had made breakfast for us! Yummi! That was a great weekend. She smiled at the memory of waking up to Jon and Benjen talking quietly by the fire. As far as she knew uncle Ben had only visited Jon a few times, but they seemed to get along well. Her family still held on to the age old 'there must always be a Stark at Winterfell', so for Benjen to be able to go anywhere her dad needed to go back home. Luckily for everyone it's where her dad preferred to be so uncle Ben wasn't as chained as it would otherwise sound like. Bran was being groomed to take over 'the Direwolf Kennel', the generations old Stark family husky breeding business, which uncle Ben was currently managing. In the autumn Bran would begin his business management studies, and together with Sansa, already being a veterinarian assistant, unless she's changed her mind about moving back home, those two would become a leadership duo to reckon with, she was sure of it!

A wet snout on her cheek startled her and brought her out of her musings.

"Ghost! You scared me, boy." She nuzzled his head and gave him a hug. "Oh hey there, McCoy. You found a best buddy in Ghost?"

Jon chuckled, "pretty much! The past many months it's as if when you find one white furball the other white furball is usually close by."

Past few years Dany had brought the cats to Dragonstone for the summer because they loved being outdoors, and King's Landing didn't exactly have an abundance of nature. This year with Jon and Ghost being here as well Dany thought it'd be a perfect way and time for all the boys to bond further and hang out in their natural habitat. Needless to say her experiment had been a big success.

"And the other furballs?"

"Kirk tend to find Dany fairly quickly and, if my observations are correct, he's been up in that tree—" he pointed behind himself to the large old tree not far from where they were all gathered, "—for several hours now."

All surrounding chattering halted even Rhaegar stopped playing the guitar and everyone, almost in unison, looked at Jon then to the tree then back at Jon. Stunned. As was she. How did he know that?! Can he see in the dark?

Vis was the first one to speak. "You guys do realise that the only reason Jon is still around is because he's always been extremely good at observing and analysing his environment, right?" He was clearly amused by everyone else's dumbfounded looks.

"...pff...right well, we can't all be trained to have ninja-like skills..." Why did I say that out loud? She almost rolled her eyes at herself.

"The years with the Night's Watch honed his abilities, Arya, but he didn't learn them there. Without them he most likely wouldn't even have made it that far." Without giving any sensitive information away, Viserys had in a few sentences displayed how well he'd gotten to know Jon and his past.

Once again she was amazed by her eldest brother and what he was capable of. If this is his level of knowing where everyone is despite having been here, setting up camp and fireplaces most of the day.... She wasn't sure if she wanted to ask the question lurking in the back of her mind. Maybe the rumours about the Night's Watch and their near surgical precision with which they carry out missions isn't exaggerated at all? Maybe it's really true? Maybe that kind of observation is second nature to Jon now after all those years of depending on it for survival? She knew her brother was trained to kill if necessary, but she hadn't really contemplated the depth of what that entailed. How it would affect every part of his life not just psychologically, but physically and emotionally as well. How even now surrounded by family and loved ones, seemingly relaxed, he was still watching and guarding. A little sad smile crossed her lips when she noticed where he'd placed himself: with his back to the aforementioned tree so he was able to have a clear view of the open fields all the way up to the castle and the water over by the side.

"What about Spock?" This time Marg was the one breaking the silence.

"Oh ah," he laughed lightly, "he's spending his days with Phantom. They've become quite the pair around here."

"Phantom?" Rhaegar looked puzzled

Rhaella chimed in now. "The horse I told you about, Rhae. The one the Baratheons wanted to be put down because they couldn't get him to race. They were furious there was 'no return on the investment' so to speak. They said he was uncontrollable. I believe the words 'mad' and 'crazy' were being used more than once."

"Fucking Stags!" Damn right, Rhae!

Margaery was looking straight at Rhae as she was slowly nodding, clearly agreeing with him. Her brother Loras and Renly Baratheon had been 'a thing' for a few years now, and more than once had she head Marg refer to Renly as 'one of the most pompous jackasses' she'd ever met.

"Language dad! You owe 5 dragons to the cursing jar!" Despite Rhaegar's attempt to keep his voice low his daughter had heard him anyway, and not everyone was able to hold in their laughter at the sight of the little girl scolding her father wagging her index finger at him.

"You're right, I'm sorry Nys." Rhae blew a kiss to his daughter who was currently wrapped up in a blanket  and sitting in Margaery's lap. He turned and looked at Jon when he asked, "so how did you manage to get to him?"

"It wasn't easy I'll tell you that!" Jon shook his head. "He arrived on the ranch in the evening, bolted from the enclosure after only a few hours and there was no way of getting him back in. When anyone approached he ran off again. So I began camping out here. Wanted to get him used to my presence. First time I saw him, really saw him, he was coming out of the morning fog. He looked right at me as if to say, 'what in the hells are you looking at? Who do you think you are?'" He smiled at the memory. "He's been mistreated so much that he isn't scared anymore of what you can do to him. To him humans simply means pain. So he's angry, very angry. Very mistrusting. Obviously feelings I could relate to." He shrugged as if to say it wasn't a big deal, but she knew better. He's found a kindred spirit. A fellow survivor.

Jon was staring into the flames so he didn't notice the looks and smiles being shared around the fire, but she did. Especially the look between Rhaella, her dad and Rhae, they look so proud, and between Vis and Dany. Did he just give his final 'approval' of Jon? Yeah buddy, my brother can cure animals others have doomed! Boom! Dany snuggled closer to Jon as he sat with his arms wrapped around her.

"But," her mom look unsure, "you said he and Spock had become a pair..?"

"Yes, he seems to be ok with smaller animals - and as you probably know the smart ones don't like being alone." Again with the shrug. "You should see Spock sitting majestically on Phantom's back. It's quite a sight." Jon threw his head back laughing. "Although," he continued through heaving chuckling, "he does move a bit when you join him on Phantom's back."

Dany had so far been sitting quietly on a sheep's skin on the ground between Jon's legs leaning back against him, but she bolted right up, turned and said, "you've ridden a horse that was deemed unrideable?!"

She couldn't see Dany's face from where she was sitting, but based on her tone she sounded surprised, impressed or proud. Or maybe all three?

"I have." Jon looked and sounded proud. Go Jon! "More than once although mostly at night."

"At night?!" Her mom looked shocked.

"Yes. He seeks out my company more during the night. He knows I'm awake and besides," he sighed and stared back into the fire, "that's when all the memories come back, so....we keep each other company."

"But," her mom continued. Jeez, relax mom! Jon knows what he's doing. I think... "You can't see at night, child!"

"But he can. I just need to trust him and keep my head down."

"Is he fast?" She couldn't keep the question in any longer. It had been nagging ever since they'd started speaking about the horse.

Jon grinned. "He runs like we just robbed the bank and have a horde of Dothrakhi screamers on our tail."

There was a choir of loud laughter around the fire. Her dad had laughed so hard he'd startled poor little Aegon curled up asleep in his lap, head resting on his chest. Luckily 'uncle Ned' had immediately calmed him down and the little silver-haired boy was fast asleep again. Maybe one day he'll have a little silver-haired grandchild of his own, wouldn't that be something?

Sansa pulled Jon's sleeve slightly. "Why did you even try? I mean, he wasn't injured - you could've just let him be and made sure he had enough food etc. How did you know he didn't want to be alone?"

"Horses are social creatures. Solitude is fine in small amounts, but prolonged periods is bad for their wellbeing. Physically and mentally. Just like us." He gave Sansa a wink before continuing, "and, because in my personal humble opinion leaving him be without trying would be the same as giving up on him. Giving up on him would be the same as wasting his life. Wasting his life by letting him shun any and all social interaction would be the same as slowly killing him. Killing a colt at this age, unless there's a serious injury or illness, is the same as throwing away a life - and you don't throw a whole life away just because he's banged up a little."

Instantly Dany was on him, kissing him fiercely. Paying no mind to the whistling and hollering from their families. When she finally withdrew there were clear tear tracks on her cheeks. She couldn't really blame her. They all knew his last line had been about much more than 'just' a horse.

——————————

A few weeks later, and it was Robb and Margaery's wedding day and she was currently standing in a hotel suite watching her eldest brother look like he was about to faint. Robb and their dad had helped him sit down and Grey had fetched him a glass of water. Still no reaction. He was just sitting there. Looking like his circuits had all been fried.

It all makes sense now though. Late last night Sam had been knocking on their door. He had showed up with Jon's clothes. But why not just bring it to the suite where Robb and Jon were staying? Her dad had only told her she'd understand tomorrow - and yes, she understood now. She understood why Robb and their dad looked so nervous, but she couldn't wipe the smile off her face even if she wanted to.

"I thought I lost it," he whispered. "I thought I'd lost everything."

Robb was crouching in front of him. "You did, but dad helped pull some strings for you. We know how much this means to you."

"Just dad?" Jon look sceptical down at Robb.

Dad, sitting next to Jon, cleared his throat. "No, not exactly. Lord Commander Mormont, Commander Selmy and even President Tyrell has helped getting this done for you. Everyone agreeing that you deserve it."

Silent tears were rolling down Jon's cheeks.

It's pretty awesome dad's been able to do this. Father of the Year award goes to...drumroll... He had talked to Lord Commander Mormont of the Night's Watch who had agreed immediately. Commander Selmy too had said there shouldn't be an issue given that President Tyrell too agreed. Luckily she did. Sam had agreed to pick up and prepare everything so that all dad and Robb had to do was present it to Jon. Which they'd done this morning: his dress uniform including his sword and honourary medals of valour. All pressed and polished and ready for him to wear.

She looked at the guys next to her. Like her Bran was smiling - even Grey was smiling! She glanced at the boxes in Bran's lap containing Jon's medals.  

"You sounded so broken when I asked you, and maybe I shouldn't even have asked I'm so sorry Jon, but..." he sighed. Robb, you're babbling! "Afterwards I had to tell dad and I pleaded with him if there was anything - anything at all - we could possibly do."

"Thank you. Thank you so much. Both of you. All of you. I..," he chocked on his tears.

"Guys, sorry to be the one to burst your bubble, but you really need to get dressed." Bran was tapping his left wrist with his right index finger indicating they had somewhere important to be.  

"Right!" Robb shot up. "I'll stay here with Jon. You guys go do your thing."

"Grey are you and Bran both ready?"

"Yes, Dr. Stark. All packed and ready."

"Good, thanks so much, Grey."

"No problem at all, Dr. Stark. Bran and I had a lot of fun, Sir." Always so polite! Just like Sam.

"Arya you're ready to pick up the little ones."

"Yup! Aegon's going to be so psyched when he sees you, Jon! Not to mention Dany." She sniggered. "She's going to faint seeing you in that. Lord Dayne in uniform!"

[samingtonwilson]

8 Fights You’ve Had - Jim Kirk

Summary: couples fight, some couples make up.

Warnings: language

A/N: anyway the great animal cracker debate of the twenty-third century is my favorite part of this

1

You stared at the door and waited the polite amount of time.

Well, the polite amount of time for you— which was just the thirty seconds after you’d finished knocking.

You entered the code you’d memorized months ago against the control pad you used to struggle with when your friendship with Jim was new, and the door slid open easily. With a sigh and a clearing of your throat, you entered the dim quarters and replicated a cup of coffee for yourself— after all, his replicator was the best one on board.

Piping pastel yellow mug in hand, you took long steps to his bed. “Wakey, wakey, sunshine! Lights at fifty-percent,” you added, laughing when Jim groaned loudly and pulled his plain white comforter over his head as the lighting increased.

You pulled gently on the few strands of blonde hair that managed to peek out from above the edge of the comforter. You then tugged on the covers a bit, exposing everything above his nose. Your fingers moved from his hair to his high cheekbone, sweeping your thumb across his skin only to move a little lower to pinch the fleshier part of his cheek with force.

He hissed loudly and slapped your hand away, sitting up immediately. He placed his hand against the flushed skin and grimaced at you. “What the hell? It’s a day off!”

You hummed, holding out the cup of coffee to him. “Your voice is sexy when you’ve just woken up. All that rasp, that depth.”

“My voice is always sexy,” he mumbled, taking the cup and smirking as he brought the mug to his lips. Once he swallowed and gave the coffee back, he sighed to lean back against his headboard. “You better have a good reason for waking me up on a day I planned to sleep through.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and pushed up the sleeves of the black t-shirt you wore. “I do. So Chekov and I spent the whole night researching this television series from, like, the early twenty-first century. It’s about these residents at this one hospital, and they all tend to sleep with one another more than work on patients, and it’s so absurd,” you laughed, rolling your eyes to yourself. “Pash and I spent the whole night watching episode, after episode, after episode and it’s strangely addictive and I’m weirdly invested—”

“Is that my shirt?”

You hummed questioningly, looking down at yourself. “Oh. Yeah, it is. Anyway, the doctors—”

“Do you not own any clothes of your own?” His eyebrows were together, his head tilted, his lips fallen into a frown. His volume had increased by the time he stated with a scoff of frustration, “You don’t even ask anymore.”

Your own eyebrows came together. “Jim, —”

“It’s not like we’re having sex, or dating, or something,” he continued, shaking his head. “You should ask.”

“Okay,” you said, your eyebrows now raised. “I’ll ask from now on. I’m sorry, I didn’t think— I won’t do it anymore.”

He sighed loudly. “No, I want you to wear my shirts,” he told you, his volume still just as high.

“Is your goal to confuse me?”

He sighed again. “I want you to wear them after you sleep here, after you spend the night with me. I want you to wake me up as annoyingly as you do and I want it every single morning. I want all of that. Do you—” he sighed heavily. “Starlight, do you not see it?”

“Well, don’t yell at me about it,” you replied softly. You waited a few seconds before setting the coffee down onto the floor and kneeling on the bed.

You shifted so you were knelt before him, moving your knees to be on either side of him so you could straddle his lap. You pressed your lips to his briefly tasting coffee on him and sighing at the feeling of finally in your veins.

As you broke the kiss and he leaned forward to follow your lips, you offered him a small smile and placed a hand on his chest, drumming your fingers against the thin t-shirt he wore. “Ask me out nicely, don’t fight with me about it, and I might say yes.”

2

You were drifting in and out of sleep for a while. The lights being at seventy-percent kept you from succumbing completely.

You didn’t call for them to dim, though. You didn’t make a sound. The action would have been too taxing. The volume you needed, the clear tone, the slowly enunciated words, it was all too much for your body to handle— especially after the ten hours in the medbay you spent patching up clumsy red shirts covered in steam burns.

You couldn’t bring yourself to eat, either. You’d gone through the day with a single apple and two large cups of coffee in your system, not finding time to eat anything else earlier and not finding the energy when you’d reached Jim’s quarters. You only collapsed upon the bed, sighing very heavily as you cuddled up against the far more plush mattress and much, much softer bedspread.

You heard the door slide open and wished you could sink into the bed further, maybe be swallowed by it whole as you heard Jim sigh loudly and throw his boots aside. Each sound rang in your ears and knocked around in your skull painfully.

He fell into the bed in a similar fashion to your collapsing two hours ago. But, instead of taking one of the spare pillows and snuggling it into his chest like you had, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled your back into his chest.

He hummed in contentment as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and pressed his lips there.

You sighed out and felt your body relax as his warmth spread through the uniform you didn’t bother taking off. “Can you call for the lights to be at zero?”

Unbeknownst to Jim, it’d taken all of your energy to say that simple sentence and he asked, “Can’t you?”

“I’m too tired,” you grumbled into your pillow.

He snorted. “It’s just a few words, starlight.”

“It’s not about how many words it is— it’s the volume,” the frustration in your voice was evident, your eyes opened a little more now, stinging at the harsh light. “Just do it.”

“I’m tired, too.”

“Fine, Jim.”

Though his arm stayed around you and his lips stayed close enough to your skin that you could feel his frown, neither of you called for the lights to turn down. Somehow, the two of you managed to sleep through it and threw a few cranky words at one another about the dangers of pettiness when you awoke.

3

You sat in the well-cushioned chair in Leonard’s office, your feet atop his large desk and crossed at the ankle. You narrowed your eyes, widened them, and narrowed them again. You tilted your head— left, right, down. You took a breath.

“You’re being excessive.”

You clicked your tongue, still focusing with the sharpest of gazes rather than looking at him as he sat across from you in a far flimsier chair. “I’m giving this the attention it deserves.”

Jim reached over and sifted through the remaining cookies in the bright red and yellow carton, his eyes zeroing in on the lion printed in the upper left corner. He shook his head, he was sticking to his guns. He knew animal crackers better than the best of them. “It’s a horse.”

You glanced at him rather than the cookie held between your index finger and thumb, sighing at the determination in his wide, childish electric blue irises. “It’s a giraffe, Jim.”

He clicked his tongue. “It’s a horse.”

“Your IQ level might say you’re a genius but that doesn’t mean you’re always right.”

“Sorry, all I caught from that sentence was that I’m always right,” he said with a wide grin, reaching over to brush your feet from the desk. When your feet landed on the floor with the clunk of your boots, he sighed and sat back in his seat. “It’s a horse.”

You nodded sarcastically and frowned just as dryly. “Oh, really? It’s a horse? Then why is its neck so long?”

“It’s not that long!” he shouted, shaking his head again. “Barely above average.”

“Yeah? And you know the average length of necks when it comes to animal crackers?” you snorted. “It’s also a zoo-themed box. What kind of zoo has horses?”

“Don’t be close-minded on what animals zoos have.”

“Don’t be rude and call this giraffe a horse just because her neck is a little bit shorter— that’s probably offensive, or something.”

“Oh, is it?”

The two of you barely acknowledged Leonard as he stepped through the door, only really noticing him when he took the cookie from your hand and popped it into his mouth. As he promptly chewed and swallowed, he sat down and raised his dark eyebrows at your incredulous expressions. “What?”

“You ate the cookie!” Jim yelled, his jaw clenched. “We were trying to figure out what animal it was.”

“Well, I’d figured it out already— it’s a giraffe.” You paused for a moment. “I mean, it was a giraffe.”

“It was a fuckin’ cookie,” Leonard stated, his Southern drawl warm in the drafty medbay. His tan skin was creased from exhaustion, from outrage at your toddler-like behavior— but his hazel eyes were alive. You knew he secretly loved it. “It was supposed to be eaten ‘n I ate it. Y’all are sittin’ here, arguin’ like fools. Move on, you giant babies. It was a hippo.”

As if perfectly in-sync with one another, you and Jim shouted, “No, it wasn’t!”

4

You were pacing in front of the bed, your fingers in your hair so you could pull on the ends when the frustration hit you even harder. There was a sheet wrapped around your body, your fist gripping the fabric to hold it above your otherwise bare chest.

When you almost tripped over the cotton for the third time, you sighed and stood still. You stared at Jim with wide, angry eyes and a deep frown. “I mean, is this what we are now? A fucking cliché?”

He sat with the comforter pooled below his waist, his back against the headboard so you had to actively distract yourself from gawking at his naked torso for too long. “Starlight, —”

“Like, you’re hogging the covers now? You’re pulling them onto your side? You’re hogging them like some, like some—”

“Cliché?” he guessed. He was fighting a smile as he watched you start to pace again.

“God! Hogging the goddamn covers, finishing my fucking sentences! Didn’t you make me coffee this morning?” you asked, your voice loud and outraged. “Oh my God,” you halted your steps and your palm met your forehead. “You told me I looked beautiful after sex even though I probably looked like I was just run through a prehistoric car wash. Jim!”

“What?” he asked, a laugh laced throughout. “What are you even angry about here?”

“You took the covers like a fucking cliché, you blue-eyed monster!”

“So are you mad at me taking the covers or about me being a cliché?”

“Jim!”

“Or is it about me finishing your sentences, or bringing you coffee, or calling you beautiful after sex? Which you are, by the way-- all the time.”

You groaned loud enough to have it echo off the walls. “Stop asking questions. I need to leave— sleep in Nyota’s quarters, or something.”

He couldn’t stop his smile as you walked towards the door. “At least put some clothes on first. I know how you feel about someone else knowing about our sex life.”

“I fucking hate you,” you called out as you switched course to the closet.

He hummed out a sigh. “And I love you.”

5

You sat atop the biobed in Exam Room 1, swinging your legs as you watched Leonard and Jim exchange a few choice words. You were leant against the wall behind you, your hands folded in your lap so you could pinch the blue fabric of your uniform.

You switched upon whom you focused based on which one of them spoke. It was like watching a tennis match— at least until you decided to intervene. “Not to ruffle any command gold feathers here, but I agree with Len.”

Leonard motioned towards you and widened his eyes at Jim. “There you go.”

Jim, with an agape mouth and incredulous sigh, shook his head. “Starlight, you’re not serious.”

You traced the darkness underlining his eyes, the more sullen nature of his cheeks, the borderline transparency of his skin, and the slouching of his posture. “I’m completely serious, Jim. You look six seconds from death— you need to sleep.”

“I’m the captain, this is my ship,” he pointed out with great emphasis. “I can’t just take a day to sleep when there are crewmembers injured because I flew us through a highly magnetized nebula and zapped the gravity.”

“It’s been three days,” you stated, shaking your head. “We’ve got less than twelve crewmembers left in observation, and that’s just a formality at this point. Everyone’s okay now— except you.”

“No bones are broken, I’m okay.”

You looked at Leonard for help and when he sighed with a flare of his nostrils, you clicked your tongue. “Jim, you haven’t slept for longer than two hours in three days.”

“I’m worried, I have every right to be worried!” he argued, his voice shaking the walls of medical waste bin bolted to the wall. “It’s my ship!”

“For fuck’s sake, we know it’s your ship!” you yelled back. “You can have Spock take over for a day!”

“Or, better yet, you could have Sulu take over for a day,” Leonard added, catching your eye as you peered at him questioningly. “He’s got a real fire in him.”

“You can’t take my side?” Jim asked after a few moments, pulling your attention from your fellow doctor. “Just this once?”

“I’m always on your side. No matter what,” you sighed out. “And, because I’m on your side, I think you need to get some rest. Sleep is just as important as anything else— especially when you’re the captain.”

When he opened his mouth to speak, you clicked your tongue once more. You spoke more forcefully now, “No. Get to our quarters, change out of that godforsaken uniform, and sleep. Hell, hibernate if you have to, okay? Leave.”

Leonard snorted once Jim had left, his arms crossed over his chest so the blue of his shirt rumpled at his chest. “Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t just date you myself.”

“We’re not sexually attracted to each other and I happen to really like sex,” you shrugged.

6

You were avoiding him. You spent the day hauled up in your favorite exam room, only leaving to check on your lone patient. You didn’t dare venture to the mess hall, Leonard’s office, Scotty’s makeshift office, or anywhere else you could run into him.

Every time you saw or thought about him, images came flooding in. His hands on someone else, his lips on someone else, his eyes staring at someone else in the way he’d only reserved for you. It made something in your chest stutter, something in your blood boil. You wanted to break something.

You walked into your shared quarters cautiously so as to avoid his questioning gaze. You kept your eyes on the replicator, taking careful, counted steps towards it and immediately calling for a cup of coffee.

“Any special reason why I’m being iced out?”

You sighed and gritted your teeth at the sound of his voice. You didn’t reply.

“Did I do something?” he asked, nervous laughter in his words. “Because it sure seems like I’ve done something.”

You stayed silent, picking up the coffee and taking a very, very long sip. You didn’t care that it burned your tongue.

He laughed again, you could almost feel his voice shaking. He rose from the couch and made his way to where you stood. When he was close enough, he set his hand on your shoulder only to have you shrug him off.

He sighed. “Starlight, don’t freak me out like this.”

“It’s irrational.”

“That’s okay. Just tell me what it is. And look at me, maybe.”

You shook your head, keeping your eyes on your cup rather than meet the blue eyes you felt betrayed by. “I’m mad at you. You hurt me.”

“H-How? What’d I do?”

“How the hell could you look at someone else like that?” you asked, finally meeting his confused, but bright blue eyes. You couldn’t help your high volume. You thrust your mug into his hands. “I can’t believe you would kiss someone else, and touch someone else, and —”

“I didn’t do any of that!” he shouted back after several shocked moments of silence, watching you as you walked towards the bed. “I wouldn’t do anything like that to you!”

“Yeah, well, I had a dream that you did.”

He scoffed incredulously, his eyes wide and his mouth forming a scowl. “You’re mad at me over a dream?”

“I’m not mad at you! I just keep seeing it!”

“You’re yelling at me over something that isn’t real?”

You almost growled, unzipping your boots and tossing them aside. “I’m not yelling at you!”

“Then what do you call what you just did?”

“Passionate speaking!” you contradictorily yelled, reaching behind yourself to undo the zip of your uniform. 

You sighed after a beat of silence passed. “What if you get sick of me and it comes true? It’s bound to happen! We’ve been together for, like, two years now—”

“Year, ten months,” Jim corrected.

“See? I didn’t even know that!”

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. He reached for you and wrapped his arm around your waist. When your chest was pressed against his, he sighed out. His eyes seemed to shine even in the dim lighting. “I’m not going to get sick of you. I am sick of how much coffee you drink, but never sick of you. Okay?” 

You sighed and nodded.

“Good. Now, take your dress off.”

“What?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Take your damn dress off and let me show you how not sick of you I am.”

7

Jim walked into his spacious shore leave quarters with a smile stretching his full lips. Having just come back from watching a football game with Leonard he truthfully didn’t give two shits about, he expected to be greeted with a smile and a kiss— not with the smell of melted cheese. But he wasn’t one to complain about that.

He entered the kitchen and inhaled deeply, standing beside you and bumping his hip against yours.

You clicked your tongue and pressed the back of the green spatula to the sandwich on the pan. You only sighed. You needed it to take less time.

He didn’t seem deterred by your resistance to his company. “What kind of cheese did you use?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “Whichever one was in the fridge.”

He could have sighed at your monotone voice. “Did you use butter on both sides? It turns out better if you use it on both—”

You gritted your teeth and slammed the spatula down, hearing the items in the drawer below clank and shift. You felt a burning in your eyes and a pinching in your throat. “Honestly, why don’t you just do it?”

He watched with his mouth agape as you pushed past him and slammed the door to the bedroom. He took a breath and turned a knob to switch the stove off. He removed the sandwich so it was set on a plate and placed the pan into the sink. Stray water droplets sizzled against the hot pan and he listened to it as he walked down a narrow hall to the bedroom, plate in hand.

He knocked on the door twice. Though you told him to go away, something about your voice made him open the door. His chest tightened at the sight of you sitting on the bed, your knees at your chest and your forehead placed atop them. He heard your shaky breath and sniffles, sitting before you with a deep breath. 

“I won’t push you,” he said as he tore the sandwich in half and took an audible bite of the crispy bread. “But,” his voice was thick with his full mouth, “you should eat this. It’s good.”

You shook your head. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Well, half is still yours.” His fingers encircled your ankles, he jostled them a little. “If you tell me who did this, I can kill them. I’m a captain of Starfleet, so I have access to weapons you wouldn’t even believe exist.”

You laughed despite yourself, placing your chin on your knees instead. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

Jim wiped the tears from your skin and tilted his head with a small smile. “Tell me who I’m killing.”

“I don’t need you going to prison for killing a family that basically disowns me each time they see me. S’not fair for me to lose you, too.”

He sighed and tucking your loose strands of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “I love you. You know that, right? More than anything.”

You nodded. Your eyes were unable to wave from the dilation of his pupils, the glassiness of his own eyes. “I really don’t deserve you.”

He frowned. “I think that’s a matter of opinion. Stop arguing and eat-- or I’ll finish it all myself.”

8

Knowing your tendency to forget numbers, Leonard thought it was remarkable you didn’t lose count. You knew it down to the hour.

You could hear the hissing of the door as it slid shut behind Jim, the groaning of the couch as he flipped three times, the deafening scrubbing of a toothbrush as you stood beside one another in a bathroom too small, taking turns spitting into a sink too shallow— it all replayed in your head, over and over. It replayed in your head like clockwork, alerting you that another hour had passed.

One hundred eighteen repetitions were too many repetitions, but you did nothing about it. You simply averted your gaze when he stepped through the medbay doors, simply occupied yourself with something so uninteresting in comparison to the ever-changing blue of his eyes, simply told yourself you could handle another repetition if it meant you’d be giving Jim the space he needed, giving him the space he deserved.

You’d apologized. You told him you wouldn’t do it again— you wouldn’t give yourself the chance to do it again. After all, arguing about burnt popcorn and not speaking for nearly five days felt excessive.

But there was something deeper there, you just knew it. It lied in the absurd and petty nature of this popcorn argument, it lied in the unnecessary nature of his sudden possessiveness, it lied in the near constant remarks he would pass each time you expressed uncertainty for your future. You just couldn’t see what it was.

However, you did take it too far this time. What started off as a simple argument about popcorn ended with your voice cracking as you yelled about his arrogance, about his confidence that really came from dumb luck. You told him his judgement was flawed and selfish, that he really just chased glory.

Obviously, you regretted the words as soon as you said them. You were frustrated, and had been for some time because of the uncertain cause of all your sudden fights, but that was no justification. You knew that.  

The walk to your quarters seemed to stretch on for eons. You avoided eye contact with any and all crewmembers that passed you, you even waved off a conversation with Uhura, who looked at you with nothing other than concern.

You cleared your throat as you entered the code you’d memorized years ago, watching the door slide open as if in slow motion. You threw your PADD aside the moment you stepped into the room, tossing your communicator in the same direction.

Jim glanced at you and paid you no other attention.

“Jim?” you called, your voice as small as you felt. “Have you— I’ve given you enough space, right?”

When he doesn’t reply, you across the room and kneel before the couch he was seated on. You took his hand and wiggled it around, finally catching sight of the blue eyes that grounded you even in space. “Because I’m really tired. And I want to talk to you. And I want to kiss you, and I want to know that we’re okay. It’s been five days.”

He kept his eyes on you but did nothing more.

You sighed. “I’m sorry about what I said. There’s no excuse for it. You do scare me sometimes when you do things I don’t understand, but I know you have your reasons. I don’t— I just don’t understand how this all blossomed from burnt popcorn. I don’t like fighting with you and I don’t know why we’re fighting so much.”

You set your other hand on his knee. You had to blink rapidly, uncertainty taking up your mindspace even when his pupils dilated in that special way that made your stomach flip. “Tell me what I should do. Whatever you want, we’ll do. I’ll try not to overreact again, I’ll move out, I’ll shut up. We just— Fuck, I just need my friend.”

He looked at you plainly, simply. He took a breath and nodded once. “Marry me.”

Sandpaper in your throat, you asked, “What?”

“Marry me.”

He took another breath, deep enough to reach every point of his lungs, before continuing, “I don’t want you to move out, or shut up, or change anything. I’ve been irritated at you for not reading my mind when I should’ve just told you what I want.”

His voice was almost as soft as his gaze, his touch just as gentle as he set his hand against your cheek and moved his thumb across your skin. The blue of his eyes was clear— clear than it’d been in a while. “I want commitments, I want rings. I want part of my future,” he clicked his tongue, “I want part of our future to be certain.”

You opened your mouth, but there was no sound. So Jim nodded upwards, giving you the smile that could make you agree to anything if he’d just asked. “Please marry me.”

[donaldresslerfanfic]

Time Managment.

Rating: M

Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Content.

Word Count: 3444

Donald Ressler X OC Maggie Waters.

Chapter: Forty Nine

Chapter Index

Story on Wattpad

Ressler.

Things were moving too slow for my taste, and I couldn't imagine how this wait to get Agnes back was for Liz.

Tom and Liz had come many times to me asking for help, a lead, anything they could exploit, and Liz told me Red was a little resented and wasn't exactly sharing Intel on how to get to Kirk.

However, every time I came home, crossed the door of my home and walked to Mags, everything was sunshine and rainbows on her end.

After we had to wait from the attache team in London to look over Reddington's next guy, they dismissed me until the found anything.

I got home, going up the stairs and looking for Mags on her office, she spent a lot of time here.

She was talking on the phone, writing things in a big calendar she had on one of her walls. She scribbled something down and then turned the pages, placing her hand in the box that had a big red heart.

"I'll get back to you as soon as I have some news, thank you" she hung up and took a deep breath. Then she went to her desk and scribbled down some more things in her agenda.

"Do you like that guy?" I heard another voice. I didn't know she had company, the other person was sitting in the corner out of my view.

"I think he's alright, I mean, he's got good references"

"I'll have him as a plan B if you don't like it" the other person came into view, it was Gina. "And what about this girl for interior design?" She handed her a piece of paper.

"Mmm" she scanned it quickly "ohh, this firm in PA, top notch, see if you can get a reference" she handed her back the paper and finally looked at me. I gave her a smile while Gina looked at me as well

"Don hey" she walked to me and gave me a little hug "I heard the news, congrats! I have a perfect make up artist and a hairdresser, we're going to make Maggie look dreamy for your big day"

"Won't take much, she's already dreamy" I said looking at her, she gave me a little smile while her cheeks redened.

"Aw, anyway, I'll use the phone downstairs" Gina said while walking around me downstairs. I looked back at Mags again while walking inside.

"You're home early" she said giving her watch a quick look.

"What's Gina doing here?" I asked. I smiled when Maggie hopped on her desk with a smile

"So get this, the director found out about my wedding and he said he wanted me to set up a second team in my care so they can take over while I plan this" she clapped happy and looked down to grab her agenda "Gina and I have been at this for maybe an hour, going through resumes and calling people. I've been answering messages from my family. My aunt said she wants to gift me something from the wedding, either the cake or the souvenirs, I don't know which one yet. And look at these!" She said handing me an envelope.

I opened it and checked our names, written in the cards along as 'save the date!' with a little calendar marking our wedding day.

"This came out pretty" I said, pushing the card back in.

"They're beautiful" she said while taking it back. "I'll probably be sending these this week, and we have to go cake tasting and I'm taking next week off to do the bridesmaids dresses, I have to go check out mine, my shoes" she listed, then took a deep breath "it's a lot. But here"

She turned to a stack of envelopes she had behind her and separated a few from the bunch.

"Those are for the guys at the blacksite, Samar, Aram, Cooper and Liz hopefully with baby and all"

"We're closing in, we're not going to be after this guy for four months"

"I hope" Maggie said, she was still holding an extra card in her hands "can I like... Well, not ask but consult something with you? Because-"

Ah, I knew were this one was going.

"I know that you hate Raymond and that his your arch enemy and you guys have bad blood between eachother but... Can I?" She shook the card a little "invite him to our wedding?"

I gave her a little twist of lips because no, knowing what happens when he goes to weddings I want him as far as he can from mine.

"I know that you guys don't match but... He's been good to me and he used to know my dad so, I don't want to say like it'll be as if my dad was there but I thought that-" she quieted down, and I realized that this whole thing was also kind of painful to Mags.

Her dad, the person she loved most, wasn't going to be with her to walk her down the aisle, to have her first dance, to make a toast for us.

I saw her look down, with the envelope still on her hand. I guess I'm going to have to suck this one up.

"The girl said she's perfect with the-" I head Gina interrupt from behind us. Maggie cleared her throat and hoped off the table "sorry, is this a bad time?"

"No" Maggie dismissed "I was just giving Don the save the dates and waiting for you to return, I still need to check on a project"

I leaned in and grabbed the envelope from her hand.

"I'll deliver these, call me if you need anything" I said. Mags looked at the envelopes in my hand and gave me a little smile while she grabbed her purse from the chair.

"Thank you" she whispered at me while leaning in to give me a fast kiss on the lips.

I saw Gina turn on her heels and walk down, Maggie following her. As soon as I heard the clicking sound of heels from Gina going down the stairs, Mags turned around and pulled me in for another longer kiss, my hands quickly finding her waist and pulling her for a hug.

"Seriously, thank you" she whispered against my lips, her hand slowly moving from my neck to my cheek "and I'm sorry I'm putting you in a difficult position and that you don't want him near but he's actually a good friend"

"You two knock that off until your wedding night!" Gina yelled from downstairs. Maggie gave me a smirk and kissed my lips again.

She was gone for the rest of the day, and that gave me time to check the things I had to check on my end, and that included keeping in touch with Ramona constantly, I'd come to an arrangement with her about the payment for the bookings we needed to do, knowing that Mags wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of spending almost double of what she had in mind in just one night. But I was. Not only because I wanted to see her happy but because I was sitting on 7 years of bureau payment that I didn't wanted to spend anyway else.

Once back in the blacksite the next day, we finally had a lead about this guy that supposedly was working with Kirk. I saw my opportunity then to hand the team the save the dates.

"Can I steal you guys for a second?" I said looking at the team, then searched for the envelopes on my suit's inner pocket "even though the idea of an 'on the spot' wedding sounds really romantic, we're not going to drop an Elizabeth Keen and have our wedding the same day we let people know" I joked looking at Liz, then handed her one of the envelopes, then went around handing Samar, Aram and Cooper the remaining three "and even though it's highly inappropriate giving what you're going through Liz" I sympathize with her "things are moving fast and-"

"You're getting married?" She pitched in, looking at the card with a smile.

I ran my eyes through them, they were giving me an expectant and proud smile, and I matched them with my own.

"Yeah, I am" I said.

"Oh my God" she said while leaning in to give me a hug. Cooper gave me a proud smile and a pat on the shoulder while Samar also leaned in to hug me.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but" Aram said looking at his computer "one of our suspects? Local police found a body in a park that fits his description"

"Ressler, Navabi, get to the park, ID the body and if it us our suspect, I want to know who killed him"

Samar and I nodded and got on the move. As soon as the elevator doors closed I pulled out my phone.

"Mags told me to tell you that this weekend she's having the bridesmaids go out with her for the fittings of the dresses and such, and she wanted you to come"

"Flattered" she said while the elevator opened up. "I saw her after she came back from your vacation and I saw the ring but I didn't actually believe you'd asked her"

We climbed in the car and headed to the crime scene.

"Why wouldn't I? We're in love"

"Yes but... I know about your fiance, Audrey, and how she died. And I didn't think that after that you'd like to try again. Our line of work is a very lonely one."

"Only if you don't have someone to walk on your pace. If I have to stay all night searching for something she sets up the coffee machine in a timer for me to have coffee during the night, she wakes up at six to have breakfast with me even though her work is at 9 am, she even scrappes the blood of my shirts and if that isn't a keeper right there then I don't know what a keeper is"

"I didn't say it like that, I said it in the sense that people around us get hurt because of us"

"Yeah, well in this case, the threats aren't coming from me" I said parking the car and exiting, referring to her work with Reddington. He's been the only one putting her in danger when she was and now... Now that he was gone from her life I just hoped I had all my bases covered.

Turns out Tom Keen ended up being our inside man in the case, and we captured the blacklister before the day ended, not really knowing what Reddington's end game was.

When I walked into the house, I saw Mags pace back and forth talking on the phone, I walked to her and gave her one short kiss and let her continue.

"Oh well, that's a shame, I liked that one... No it's fine I can go browse for other kinds tomorrow..... I won't be going but if Don wants to he can be my guest, I'm deadly allergic to flowers.... Okay I'll let him know, thanks Ramona"

I heard the thud on the table as she dropped her phone and sat on the kitchen table with her laptop in front of her.

"What's wrong?" I said rolling up my sleeves.

"Just some... Hiccups" she said looking into the computer "her people didn't find the vase I wanted for the table decorations and she said she can have them be hand made but that's-"

"And why don't you have them be hand made?"

"I'd like to search for more" she dismissed me "and if I don't find another alternative I'll have them hand made. But that's not what I'm upset about. I went dress shopping with Gina and my childhood friend Sara who came from Rhode Island for a week to help me out with stuff, we went through five wedding fitting venues and didn't find the one that I liked, all of them told me that model isn't made anymore even though it hasn't been a year since it was released"

She tapped a few times in the pad to open up some folders.

"Here, you can look at it since I'm going to have to pick another one anyway" she turned the laptop to me. I could understand her anger, the dress was beautiful, and I didn't know a damn thing about dresses, I just knew she would've looked bomb in it.

"Are all going to be backless? I like that one, because I like your back a lot" I said running my hand on her spine, she let out the smallest smile "and why don't you have that one hand made?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes.

"First of all, no, absolutely not. Second of all, you already looked at it, so it's cursed now. Third, this is Vera Wang, anything that I can do hand made will never come close to the actual thing. The problem is" she tapped again in the screen opening up the browser and tipping fast "all backless dress are like this" she motioned at the screen and I could see the pattern "they're all skin tight and if I get one of these, I'll have to be in a diet for the rest of my life. Besides look at all these fucking chicks! they're models! I would never look like that in one of those dresses, it has to have layers upon layers of tulle"

"Well" I said shutting the laptop down and looking at her "I've seen you with skin tight dresses and you are fucking hot Margaret"

She scrunched her nose and then gave me a chuckle

"Ew, why do you call me that?" She said opening the laptop again. I stood up and walked to the fridge.

"Because you make me mad when you say you're not hot. That you don't look like a model just because your thighs touch an inch in the center?"

"Okay, you like my body, I get it. It doesn't mean I'll look good in this dress"

I walked back to her with a bottle of water and extended my hand to her.

"I'll bet you a thousand dollars you would" she gave me a smirk and slapped my hand away. "I mean it" I said pulling my hand back to her "when you go dress hunting you try one of those on and I guarantee you'll end up picking it"

"So you know me better than what I know myself?" I grabbed her by the jaw and pulled her head up while I leaned in to kiss her shortly.

"I'm saying I know that you'll love how you'll look in that dress when you try it out"

"But if I do, then you'll know when I give you the money of the bet"

"You can hold of to it until the big night" she smirked and I leaned to kiss her lips again. Maggie stood up from her seat, her lips never leaving mine. I rounded her waist and pulled her in. She finished the kiss and leaned her head on my chest.

"Things aren't going without a hitch like I would want them to, and even then just talking to you for five seconds calms me down, and I realize everything is fixable"

"Everything is, specially if you have me"

"Okay fairy godmother" she said with a chuckle, then looked back up to kiss me again.

She leaned back just a bit, pulling out her hand, I smirked and shooked it.

"Even if you win you'll have to use the money for our honeymoon, so it's a win-win"

"And if I don't, you'll still have to use that money for our honeymoon, so yes, it is a win-win" I took her hand up to my lips and kissed her knuckles "so, what do I need to check out?" I said, sitting back on the kitchen chair and pulling Maggie to sit on my lap.

"Flower arrangements, mainly he floral settings on the tables, the arch outside and I want my nieces to wear a flower crown, so you'll have to get a info about those, and make sure the bouquet I'm holding isn't actual flowers, if not you'll have to rush me to the ER with a throat closed and the closest ER is 2 miles away minimum, I could die"

I snorted and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, moving her aside to stand up.

"Do the save the dates have a plus one? I think Aram's got a new girlfriend"

She gasped and clapped happy.

"Yes! And also, boo, I thought I could finally hook him up with Samar in our party."

I chuckled while I headed upstairs to get out of my shirt and into a more comfortable one. When I walked down again, Maggie was looking in her computer for new vases for the table decorations.

"Can you look her up?"

"Who?" She said not taking her eyes off the screen.

"Aram's girlfriend. I think her name's Elise, heard them speaking on the phone."

"On it" she said opening another tab. "Wait, I'll be right back" she said speeding off upstairs. I opened the fridge while at it and found some leftover chicken parmesan, so I threw it in the oven. I heard Mags walk back to the kitchen. Then she cleared her throat.

I laughed when I saw her fastening an FBI cap on her head.

"Where'd you get that from?" I said turning the oven on and setting a timer.

"I stole it when I went to your office"

I chuckled again sitting next to her. I couldn't believe this woman.

"So, here she is, Elise and Aram in a date to a karaoke bar. We've never been to a karaoke bar" she said clicking on a photo and opening up wider.

"She's hot" I said waiting to see Maggie's reaction.

"I like her hair, it matches her skin color, kinda tan, I wish I had that color on me" she said looking on her arm. The sun tan she'd gotten in Maui was long gone.

"I said she was hot" I repeated.

"Yeah, I heard, she is." She confirmed, looking at another photo. "Want to dump me and steal Aram's girlfriend? Fine by me Ressler I'll call her to tell her how you like your meat cooked, that is assuming she knows how to cook, and by the looks of it she doesn't" she said showing me another photo from her Instagram where she was showcasing a batch of cupcakes a wouldn't eat even if I loved her too much.

I knew she wasn't mad, she was just taunting me because she knew I couldn't live one day without her.

"Don't call me Ressler" I said leaning in and stealing a kiss from her while standing back up and walking to check the oven.

"Payback, you called me Margaret"

As I took out the chicken and checked if it was done, I heard a gasp from Mags and she quickly walked to me, showing me the picture of a flower vase that had dangling stings of pearls on the sides.

"That's pretty" I said.

"They're beautiful! I don't know how I hadn't seen this before" she said looking at the screen again and placing it on the island.

"Order it" I pulled my wallet out and handed it to her, she quickly took it and searched for one of my credit cards.

I saw her stop and look at a little picture I had on the transparent pocket of the wallet. It was, of course, a picture of her. Big smile, shining eyes, just like I loved her like.

"You should take it off, get one of Elise" she said with a little smirk and a wink while taking the laptop back to the table.

I smiled and left the tray on top of the oven, quickly walking to Mags and holding her by the waist when she put the computer down.

"Are you jealous?" I said in her ear, leading my lips to her neck.

"Isn't that what you wanted? To make me jealous?" She turned around on my arms and I pulled her legs up to sit her down on the table.

I kissed her, moving my lips heavily over hers, then I grunted in frustration and pulled back a little.

"God I love you" I said, she smiled and grabbed the collar of my shirt, pulling me back to kiss her lips again.

[occasionalfics]

The Arrow and the Flame, ii

part i

Summary: You can’t hide from fate, even if it feels too easy and too complicated at the same time.

A/N: So I think I’m gonna try to post a chapter every time I finish writing a new chapter. We’ll see how that goes! This one’s still SFW. There might be a few choice words but nothing beyond that.

Tags: (let me know if you want me to tag you in the next chapter!) @thewildomega @pitrymcbride

Words: 2,760

~~~

“He keeps asking about you,” Reyus said two days later.

You looked across the space between your bunks as you tied the laces on your boots up. “And?” you asked, trying to remain calm.

“He keeps saying something about an arrow and a scar,” they said.

You pulled the laces tight and wrapped them around the boot twice before tying them into a knot. “That’s nice,” you said, pulling the bow to double knot it, just for good measure.

“You should go talk to him,” Reyus said.

You sighed as you pulled the second knot through, then put your legs over the side of your bed to face them. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He has to heal and recover, then make a decision.”

“If he knows what the mark is about, you’re going to be a part of that decision anyway, (Y/N),” they said. “You haven’t shut up about the damn thing for as long as I’ve known you.”

“And?” you asked.

“And he seems to think you match him.”

“Again I ask, and?” You put your elbow on a knee and leaned your chin in your palm.

“You’re not that dull, (Y/N),” they said.

You scoffed. “No one believes in this shit anyway,” you said, showing them the mark.

“You do, and you can’t pretend like you don’t now.” They stood and came to stand right in front of you. “You owe it to yourself to find out if it’s true.”

You sighed, but made no other response. Reyus left as you thought that they were right, but you wouldn’t say so.

Reyus was right to say you’d been preoccupied with your mark your whole life. You wanted answers, and you wanted to know what having the mark meant for you specifically. You’d always had questions about it, but no one ever had any answers because soulmates were so inexplicably rare. And now that there was someone within reach that had a mark similar to yours, you might finally be able to ask those questions. The problem wasn’t that you were scared of the answers or anything - because you weren’t - but that...he was Centaurian, a former Kree battle slave. And he could leave. He could decide not to take your father’s offer to stay with the Alliance, and then what? You’d have a mark and no soulmate, just an aching pain in your core for the rest of your days. Granted he would, too, but that didn’t make it better.

Still, you figured that if you’d been looking for the matching mark your whole life, who’s to say this Centaurian hadn’t been as well? You knew you’d never forgive yourself if you walked away from him for good, if you never even chanced a meeting to see if this was real. If it could be. Because, you reminded yourself, he had just been freed from fighting for the Kree. Soulmates and romance probably weren’t top priorities for him, especially since he had to have surgery on his leg to fight an infection. Or so you’d heard.

You breathed hard and forced yourself out of bed. If you didn’t get moving then, you’d miss the whole day, and then you’d never hear the end of it from your father. Sure, he had an Alliance to run, but he always made time to berate you for your mistakes. Knowing that, you hurried from the bunk and made your way to the cockpit.

Your mother was in the captain’s chair while your father held conferences in the next room over. She turned to you with a stern face.

“You’re late,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

You nodded. “Sorry,” you said. “I’ve...had a lot on my mind.”

“We all do, (Y/N), and yet we all make it work.”

You sighed and crossed your arms. “Can you just tell me what my assignment is today?”

She turned around, picked up a halo pad, then turned back. You waited as she scrolled through the pad to find your name, as she did every day.

“Reyus traded assignments with you today,” she said without looking up. “You’ll be in the medical ward today.”

Your eyes widened, and you made a mental note to smack Reyus across the back of the head the next time you saw them.

“They were very insistent,” your mother said as she looked up at you.

Sometimes you were reminded of how much you were like her. She had her long, dark, oily hair she always kept in her face to scare away the faint of heart. You didn’t keep yours quite the same, but you got the hair, angled cheeks, the straight nose and dark eyes from her. You acted much more like your father, who was strong and capable as a leader, but had his softer spots. He smiled more often, and had a slower temper.

This moment, however, was a moment of curiosity. Your mother solidified that thought as she said, “They mentioned something about one of the Centaurians needing you specifically. Care to explain?”

You saw her glance, briefly, at your wrist. You swung it around you to keep it out of sight and shrugged. “Just Reyus being nosy, is all.”

She gave you an incredulous look, eyebrows raised, face lowered, lips in a straight line. You knew she knew more than she was letting on. You fidgeted under her gaze, but said nothing else, and eventually she let you go.

“Report back in six hours, Cadet,” she said as she turned back to the navigation panel.

You grumbled under your breath about how much you hated being called that. You weren’t a cadet, not anymore. You’d worked your way, fair and square, into the position of an Officer of the third squadron. You wanted to be on the second squadron or the front line, but apparently you still had to work to do to get there. Your parents occasionally still called you Cadet because they knew it bugged you, and because they were your parents. You let it happen because you knew there was no stopping them, fuming as you went to the medical wing.

The closer you got, the faster your heart beat. You didn’t want to be nervous. You didn’t even want to be there, but you were. And you had guard duty, which meant you’d be standing in the hall or assisting the medics as was necessary until lunch, and then again until dinner. Which meant you’d have far too many opportunities to get to know that Centaurian for your liking. You just prayed that you weren’t on duty in his room.

Which, of course, you were. “Officer Ogord,” said the guard of the ward, Officer Reeda. “B ward.”

You waited until you passed her to roll your eyes. Reyus was really going to get it that night, you thought as you made your way down the hall. B ward was just off to the left of A ward, and when you arrived, Officer Kirk gave a tired sigh.

“Goodnight, Officer Ogord,” he said as he left, leaving you no time to correct him. Not that it mattered.

You looked into B ward and there he was, right where you and Reyus had left him two days ago. His eyes were closed and he lay completely flat. You thought he was asleep, so it was safe to enter the room. You went to the office by the last bed on your right and reported to the medic that you’d take over duty, and to let you know if she needed any assistance. She thanked and dismissed you, and when you came back into the room, all of the Centaurians were staring at you.

“You came,” you heard. You looked at the one in the corner, the one with the mark that matched yours.

“I was assigned to this ward,” you said quietly. Without thinking about it, you went to the end of his bed and shoved your hands in your back pockets.

His crest had been fixed already, molded into a wide and short strip of red metal that matched his eyes. With his mouth hanging open, you saw that he had a few new teeth, all gold and shiny against the yellow and grey of his others. No two teeth matched - some were sharp and jagged, some were short and others long - but you’d seen worse. Aside from his bandaged leg, he looked mostly healed, at least physically.

“You look like you’ve had a rough couple of days,” you said.

He chuckled. “I had worse.”

Your face fell when you remembered where you’d taken him from. Of course he’d had worse. He’d been a slave. His life had meant nothing to the Kree, even though you were almost positive the remnants of his people existed solely on a handful of ships, including the Arcturian. He’d probably known worse pain than you would ever experience, and you had to look away from him knowing that.

“Can I see it again?” he asked quietly.

You heard rumbling around the room. When you looked up, you saw that the other Centaurians had all gone back to business as usual, ignoring the two of you to the best of their abilities. Maybe they’d look on when you weren’t paying attention, but at least now they were all looking away. So you went around his bed, pulled up your sleeve, and showed him the mark on your wrist again.

He held onto your arm gently, like he was scared of breaking you. If only you’d been on the front line so he could’ve seen you fight, you thought. He’d know, in that case, that there was no breaking you. You were Stakar Ogord’s child, after all.

You bit your lip when he ran a calloused finger across the mark. You were so used to feeling that lonely ache whenever you’d done the same that you gasped - deep - at the electric, airy feeling that climbed your body under his touch. The whole galaxy felt light. You swore you saw stardust in the room, flowing between you and this Centaurian man holding onto you. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before.

When he moved his finger off of the mark, you had to bite your lip from making dejected noises. You wanted to feel more of that, whatever it was. It was intoxicating, so lovely and easy that you hardly noticed when he let go of your arm and brought your fingers down to his mark. You focused on his features when you heard him gasp, just as you had. His red eyes widened, as did his mouth. It was like he was seeing the sky for the first time, feeling a sun’s warmth on his skin and a cool breeze against him.

“‘S never happened before,” he said when he’d, apparently, come down. He lifted your hand from his mark and looked at it himself, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Me either,” you said, not bothering to remove your hand from his. You walked to stand so you were facing the same direction as him, your back to the wall, and looked at the two marks side by side. Lo and behold, they were identical: both bright red, both pointing in the same direction, both with flames at the end opposite the point.

“What’s it mean?” he asked, looking up at you.

His grip on your hand loosened, and you let your arm fall to your side.

“You don’t know what it is?” you asked.

He shook his head.

You shouldn’t have been surprised. Sure, he was a slave, but more than that, many civilizations and peoples had long since forgotten about soulmates. Many wrote them off as poppycock and fantasy. Maybe Centaurians had stopped talking about them centuries ago - or maybe they’d never believed in them to begin with.

Which meant that you didn’t need to tell him you were soulmates. It meant that maybe he wouldn’t even believe you. But it also meant that you had to be careful. Clearly, the marks connected you. He’d know if you told him it meant nothing, or that you didn’t know. And if he said anything about it to Reyus, you’d never hear the end of it.

Still, it felt weird telling someone you didn’t know that the universe had decided to create your souls together, and that stardust from the same star filled your beings. You didn’t even know his name. How were you supposed to explain that some intangible force wanted to force you two together?

You sighed, feeling terrible for thinking about lying to the man who was clearly your soulmate. You couldn’t deny it anymore. You’d seen his mark, you’d felt what only he could make you feel. All you could do was accept your fate and let him onto the whole deal easily. Slowly. He had a lot to deal with already. “How about you tell me your name first,” you said, stepping around so you faced him again.

“Yondu,” he said.

“That’s it? Just Yondu?” you asked.

He nodded. You bit your lip and wondered if the Kree had given him that name or if he’d come to them with it.

“Well, Yondu,” you said, holding your hand out to him. “I’m (Y/N). Ogord.”

“What’s an Ogord?” he asked.

You heard a snicker from somewhere in the room, but you couldn’t say where. Maybe it was in the hall, maybe it was the medic behind you, but it didn’t matter.

“It’s my surname. From my father. Actually, from both of my parents,” you said, looking away from him. You often forgot that your father, Stakar, had been adopted by the House of Ogord family when he was an orphan child, and that technically, your mother was his adopted sister. The thought made you shudder. Whenever that came up, you reminded yourself that your father was actually Terran, and that all the Arcturian in your blood came from your mother and her family.

“What’s a surname?” he asked.

You realized he still hadn’t shaken your hand. You looked up at him to see him staring at it like it was some kind of treasured bauble rather than a friendly gesture. You decided to take action, grabbing his hand to shake it. “This,” you said, holding his hand a bit tighter, “is a handshake. It’s a form of greeting.” You dropped his hand, then watched as he stared at it. “A surname is...it’s an identifier. Comes after the first name, usually marks a rank or station.”

Yondu looked up at you, his brows furrowed. “I don’t know what any’a that is,” he said, so low you almost missed it.

You sighed again and said, “Then it doesn’t matter. I’m (Y/N).” That was probably for the better, you thought. Just in case he did stick around, he’d know automatically that your father was the captain of the ship. You’d seen one too many partners scared away by that before, even if they hadn’t had the matching mark.

He looked at you blankly for a few seconds, then relaxed with a smile. It looked like it took a lot of effort to stretch his lips that way, but you thought the look suited him, especially with the new gold teeth peeking through his blue lips. “How come it took ya so long to come back?” he asked suddenly.

You shrugged and looked away from him. “I had assignments elsewhere,” you said. It wasn’t a lie, but it felt like one. “But I’m sorry. I should’ve come back sooner.” You wondered if that was true, too. Before today, all you’d been going on was a hunch and the knowledge that this man was not only a complete stranger, but a slave. A former slave. Now he was your soulmate, even if he didn’t know it yet. But knowing that you knew, you had to ask yourself what you owed him, especially since you’d saved his life.

“‘S okay,” he said, reaching out to you again. His fingers gently brushed yours until you looked him the eyes. “I just wanted ta thank ya. Ya know,” he said, not pulling his hand back. “Fer savin’ us. Fer makin’ sure I got fixed up.”

You smiled at him and nodded. “It was part of my mission,” you said, flicking a finger out to brush against his. You may as well enjoy his touch, since you were meant for it anyway, you figured. “But you’re welcome.”