#edit: or wait is some new thing found in the light not a short fiction episode?

[polarismirage]

palisade's total length is 138:04:16, making it the longest season of friends at the table

the finale, A Palette of Colors + Some New Thing Found in the Light, Or: A Year in Nine Parts + Above the Earth, is ~29% of the length of the season.

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • V

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 6.6k

General Fanfic Warnings: 18+, explicit language, smut, alcohol, drugs, violence, mentions murder/suicide, panic attacks/anxiety, nightmares

Authors note: Chapter Five- A Dreamlike Heathen (EDITED: 09-03-24)

new? start from chapter one here

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY, IN REAL LIFE! IT IS SIMPLY FICTION, AND JUST FOR FUN! THINK OF THEM AS ACTORS LOL.

+

"Fuck, Noah," she moaned, throwing her head back against the mirror as she rode the wave of pleasure. Her eyebrows were furrowed in ecstasy.

"Don't stop," she begged, and I didn't. I gave her everything I had.

"Come for me, Y/N," I said between licks and squeezes of her hips. "Be a good girl for me."

As her legs started to tremble and her mouth opened in a silent scream, she reached the peak of her climax. I continued until she pushed me away, her breathing becoming shallow as she caught her breath. I took hold of her chin and brought her lips to mine, yearning for her to taste herself on my tongue.

Life had broken her; just as it had broken him. But when they got together, their pieces became whole. And they started on their journey, together, mended as one. - Steve Maraboli

+++++

NOAH

Twenty fucking thousand dollars. Twenty.

My thoughts were consumed by two things. The first was the daunting task of coming up with all the money myself. And the second, the fact that I had slept with Y/N last night. The next morning, I sat on the cot in our motel room, my head buried in my hands as my leg fidgeted anxiously.

“I-I should go,” Y/N hopped off the counter, wiping my release off of her stomach before readjusting her shorts.

“wait-” I grabbed her wrist, pulling her back toward my drunken state, “can I see you again?”

She gave me a wry smile, “I’d like that.” She tugged from my grasp but I held her tighter, pulling her into my arms.

My body remained swaying, the euphoria and alcohol mixed, “do you regret what just happened?”

I wasn’t sure if this question was for me, or her.

“No,” She said, her fingertips running up the skin of my neck. She fit against my body perfectly, as if she was always meant to be there.

I had left the bar with the boys minutes after fucking Y/N’s brains out, stealing lingering glances at her figure behind the counter before parting. Even though I was drunk, I couldn’t believe it happened… but I needed a release, a bit of euphoria to ride out through dealing with the crushing news D gave us.

Twenty thousand.

My eyes settled on the anklet that D had forced me to wear, the green dot blinking every few seconds. I couldn't believe that the bastard was tracking our every move now. He'd been following us for years, but this was taking it to a whole new level.

I had no idea how I was going to come up with that much money on my own. The boys and I took turns doing jobs each night just to keep our sanity, but the fact that I had to keep a log of where we got the money from and submit it to one of D's lackeys so he could monitor my work was absurd.

To make twenty thousand by the end of the month, I'd need to bring in approximately 645 dollars per day since there were 31 days. Realistically, that didn't seem too difficult when broken down, but some days we would bring in thousands while others we would make absolutely nothing. At least my final day of owing would also be my birthday; what a great present.

I let out a groan and flopped onto the mattress on the floor, feeling overwhelmed by my thoughts. Everything had led up to this moment, and I still felt completely screwed over.

Jolly sat on his bed, strumming away at his old acoustic guitar that was barely holding onto its strings. With his fingers dancing along the neck, I closed my eyes and let myself get lost in the rhythm he created, tapping my fingers along to the beat.

I began humming, words spiralling out of my mouth subconsciously, “I’ve seen the devil, more than I’ve seen god.”

Jolly gave me a slight snicker, continuing to strum, “I like that.”

“I see through you, I know what you are.”

I repeated the two phrases over and over, singing lowly as I continued to drum my fingers. Hmm. I checked the time on my phone briefly, realizing it was 4:30 pm.

I sat up, grabbed my bag and swung it over my shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Jolly asked.

“To see Y/N.”

“Why?” Jolly stopped playing, placing the guitar across the bedsheets.

It's been twenty long years I've cried, but not enough tears I've become the sum of all my fears (I feel scared, so scared)

I stared at him blankly, the cogs within my mind turning to find an answer themselves. Why was I going to see her? Why did I care that I made it for when she got off work at the cafe? Something about her was magnetizing, and I couldn’t help but crave more. I wanted to explore her mind and body; to know her in every way possible.

I don’t have time to think of someone like her; I don’t deserve to think of someone like her.

I have a job to do.

But I don’t care.

“I don’t know,” I turned to look at him with my hand on the doorknob.

Jolly’s eyes watched back quizzically, “I think you should leave her out of this. Break it off now.”

I furrowed my brows, “There’s nothing to break off.”

Jolly gave me a curt laugh, “Yea, which is why you fucked in the bathroom yesterday. Nothing to break off.”

My face warmed, unsure of how he knew. I didn’t think it was obvious.

“She seems like a nice girl. You wouldn’t want to get her killed,” Jolly warned. He wasn’t wrong. This line of business wasn’t exactly safe, and I knew I shouldn’t get Y/N involved.

“She already knows too much,” I said, avoiding his eyes as I stared at the floor.

“Det är inte riktigt rätt möblerat på övervåningen hos dig.” Jolly groaned, rubbing his eyes with his palm. Your top floor is not properly furnished (Mind is a mess).

I rolled my eyes, “Oh don’t bring out the Swedish insults you asshat.”

“Well, I suggest you break her heart now before it’s too late.”

I bit my lip as I opened the door, ignoring his burning words.

“Din jävla fubbick,” I heard the swede mutter before I shut the door. You damn moron.

Guilt crept over me like a heavy wave as I walked quickly through the parking lot of the motel. My mind was racing and my hands were slick with sweat.

What am I doing? Jolly was right; Y/N shouldn’t be dragged into this mess. But at the same time, I couldn’t deny the pull towards her. It had been years since I had someone who truly listened to me and understood me. Someone who I could relate to besides my brothers. And she was stunningly beautiful, with her sparkling eyes filled with so much hope; something I aspired to have one day. Maybe I could even share with her one day.

Hope.

You gave me a strength unparalleled But nothing compared to how much I've bled (I feel scared, so scared)

+++++

Y/N

He hasn’t shown up for his coffee again today. Did he regret what happened last night?

I swept between the tables and recalled the previous events. I don’t even know what came over me yesterday, but I do know that I didn’t have any regrets.

I knew my face began to warm as I recalled the way Noah’s fingers dug into my hips, gripping onto me as he pounded into me mercilessly; drowning his sorrows through the pleasure of our bodies.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he stared into me, aching with fervour and hunger, begging me to give everything to him.

I wanna know what it feels like Is it nothing but dreamlike? I wanna touch you now

It was anything but romantic- having a quick fuck in the bathroom of a bar, but I longed for Noah even more after that.

I feel like I’m going crazy. How could he have such a hold over me, especially after finding out he is a criminal? I should be running; so why can’t I let him go?

Lust? Infatuation? Whatever it is, I crave him.

I pushed away my thoughts, finishing the rest of my closing tasks and clocking out. I waved to Annika as I pulled my hoodie over my head, grabbing my bag and de-tangling my earbuds.

As I stepped outside, someone grabbed my hand and tugged me towards them. I let out a surprised squeal as he pulled me into his embrace, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

"Noah?" I looked up at the man above me, admiring the tattoo on his neck before meeting his gaze, feeling a familiar flutter in my heart. His smiling eyes met mine as he wrapped his other arm around me, enveloping me in a warm hug. A grin spread across my face as I buried it in his chest, taking in his surprisingly comforting scent.

"I'm sorry I didn’t come today," Noah murmured into my hair, his breath warm against my scalp. "I had some... business to attend to."

I pulled back slightly, searching his face for any hint of what that "business" might have entailed. His eyes, usually so expressive, were guarded now. A reminder of the dangerous world he inhabited, one I was only beginning to glimpse.

"It's okay," I said, trying to keep my voice light. "I was starting to think you were avoiding me after last night."

Noah's grip on me tightened, and he leaned down to brush his lips against my ear. "Trust me, sweetheart, avoiding you is the last thing on my mind."

A shiver ran through me at his words, at the promise they held. I knew I should be scared, should run far away from this man and the darkness that clung

How can it feel so right? It is nothing but dreamlike I'm gonna touch you now

“But you came now,” I said.

“I wanted to be here for when you got off work,” He said, squeezing me gently before letting go. “Do you want to do something before your next shift?”

I gave him a cheeky grin, “Something?”

Noah's eyes darkened with desire as he caught my meaning. He leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. "I have a few ideas," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

A thrill shot through me at his words. I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn't resist the pull between us.

Noah licked his lips before matching my smile, putting his finger through the belt loop of my jeans, and tugging me along beside him as we walked down the sidewalk. I flushed at the gesture as he held me next to him as if claiming me for his own.

“I meant like, dinner,” He hummed, “but I also can’t stop thinking about last night.”

“Come Y/N,” he had said between sucking and squeezing my hips, “be a good girl for me.”

A shudder ran down my spine as my mind wandered, and I peered up at Noah, his cheeks flushing through his confession.

“Me too,” I said softly, “Did you want to come back to my place? We could order takeout… because I need to get my clothes for my next shift.”

“I’d like that,” Noah peered down at me warmly.

We walked together in silence, the only sound the bustle of life that surrounded the sidewalk as we passed various shops, heading towards my neighbourhood. For “level two acquaintances” the silence between the two of us was soothing, something that I think shocked us both.

With a gentle release, Noah loosened his grip on my belt loop, tucking his hands into his pockets. His brow furrowed with deep contemplation and worry as if something was gnawing at him from within. I turned to face him, noticing the slight creases in his forehead and the furrowed lines around his mouth, betraying his inner turmoil

“Did you want to talk about it?” I asked gently, looking ahead as the light breeze slid past my cheeks.

Noah was quiet, eyes darting back and forth, “I trust you so much, and I don’t know why.”

I nodded, agreeing with his concern silently, letting him continue.

“and I don’t know who else to talk to about this with…my brothers are too involved and have enough opinions as it is,” Noah said, following me down the path that led us towards my house.

“Remember how I told you we owe a lot of money to this… guy? Well, this month is supposed to be our last month, and then we are finally free.”

I smiled widely, grabbing Noah’s arm in excitement, shaking him gently, “That’s great news! You’ll be done with it forever!”

Noah chuckled darkly, rolling his head to the side in annoyance, “Yeah, well, there’s a catch.”

My grip on his arm fell, a sullen expression taking over my joy.

“I have to get him twenty thousand, myself. The boys can’t help me.”

“Twenty thousand?” I exclaimed, stopping in my tracks to look at him, “That’s a shit ton of money.”

Noah’s hand ran across his face in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I know. I am beyond fucked.”

I blinked a few times in disbelief as we approached the steps to my house, the greeting of Juice’s trill on the other side of the door inviting us in. Noah was immediately bombarded with cat love and he gave the furry animal a small smile, bending down to scratch the top of his head before running his fingers down Juice’s back.

Closing the door I kicked off my sneakers, hanging my bag on the coat rack. Noah followed, placing his black vans politely by the front door; which was when I noticed a small anklet blinking beneath the hem of his pants.

I stared at it quizzically, and Noah caught my gaze. He lifted his leg, mouth forming a tight line.

“Like my new accessory?” Anger seethed from his tongue as he gave me a sarcastic smile, before standing in front of me, completely defeated.

I led us upstairs into my bedroom, “What is it?”

“A tracker.”

I paused at the top of the stairs and turned to face him, my eyes narrowing in confusion. "What kind of tracker?" I shifted my gaze between Noah and the small device attached to his ankle.

With a heavy sigh, he followed me into my bedroom and flopped onto my bed. His limbs sprawled out as he explained, "The guy we owe money to, D, said we have to wear these trackers to make sure I'm not getting help from the boys. And I have to keep a record of where the money comes from and deposit it weekly to match my location."

"And you just found this out last night?"

His nod was barely perceptible, yet I could see the frustration etched on Noah's face as he closed his eyes tightly. Tears glistened at the corners, threatening to spill over. I stood by the bed, observing as his whole body seemed to crumble before me. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and crawled onto the bed beside him. He shifted over, making room for me as I sat up next to him. Gently, he rested his head on my lap, seeking comfort and solace in my touch as silent tears fell from his lashes.

“I…I’m barely holding on,” He whispered.

My fingers began running through Noah’s scalp, lacing themselves through his chestnut strands in an attempt to soothe him, showing my support. I hear you.

My heart yearned for him once again, filled with sorrow and pain as he suffered in torment, dealing with the burden of his demons. Noah didn’t deserve this. He was young when he fucked up, and he hasn’t been able to escape. I saw myself within his pain, my past mirroring back at me.

“I just keep hoping that one day I’ll have something else motivating me- something more than fear, more than spite. I wanna feel like I’m living.”

I listened to Noah’s words as they resonated with me. I too, wanted to feel like I was living.

I had never been part of the right crowd, and I was always getting into trouble, due to the influence of my previous relationships. I followed their shenanigans because I had nobody else to model- and I made some poor choices. I chose to follow them.

However, I also chose to leave- to start fresh and to forget about my past. People can change, and people can grow, and Noah deserved the same opportunity. He was being puppeteered by an evil man; and I wanted to help him escape, as much as he wanted his freedom.

I chewed my cheek in contemplation, fingers still stroking his hair, “let me help you, Noah.”

“Help with what?”

“The money. You don’t deserve to do it alone.”

Noah sat up now, watching me intensely from across the bed, “You’ve built yourself a new life Y/N. Don’t fuck it up now.”

He was right. Why was I willing to risk it all?

“I’ve been willing to fuck it up the second I saw you at the cafe,” I traced his face, analyzing his expression before my mind wandered to an idea; one so insane I couldn't even believe I was about to suggest this.

“I’m going to sound crazy, and I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” I hesitated for a moment, sucking in a breath between my teeth, “but why don't you come live with me? You and your brothers?”

Noah’s eyes widened, lips parting slightly in perplexity. He blinked a few times, and I continued my thought.

“You won’t need to pay rent or anything, so you guys can save money to pay this D guy faster. The motel money probably adds up.”

Noah slid off the bed, standing up abruptly, folding his arms over his body in defence, “You cannot be serious,” he laughed with incredulity.

“Listen, Noah,” I scooted to sit on the edge of the bed, looking up at him, “I was stuck for a long time, and I didn’t have a helping hand… but I have enough to offer you. I know what it’s like to struggle.”

Noah’s fingers ran through his hair as he began pacing, shaking his head, “I don’t need your pity Y/N.”

“This isn’t pity, I swear,” I stood up, approaching Noah gently, holding both of his biceps to keep him in place from his anxious wading, “I wished someone had helped me when I needed it.”

He stared down at me in complete disbelief, his eyes scanning mine for any signs of doubt; but I remained confident in my suggestion, staring at him assuringly.

“so let me help you,” I whispered, reaching up to place a gentle hand on his cheek. With a racing heart, I rubbed my thumb across his skin, bewildered at my words.

He closed his eyes in conflict and placed a hand on top of my own, clammy and nervous.

“Why are you helping a monster?” Noah breathed, leaning into my touch, curious eyes observing me.

“Everyone deserves help. You deserve it.”

What are we allowed to do? What are we allowed to be?

“You’re not a monster Noah,” placing a hand on his other cheek, I stood on my tiptoes, pulling him down towards me, kissing the tip of his nose delicately.

I wanna cross the line with you Let's pass the point of no return

Noah watched me with pure awe, matching me by grabbing either side of my face, and placing his forehead on my own, “You are fucking crazy.”

Is this wrong? I don't wanna know A big mistake? I don't wanna know

I chuckled softly, “I completely agree with you, I think I am insane for offering this.”

I wanna know what it feels like Is it nothing but dreamlike? I wanna touch you now

Noah laughed quietly with me, still in complete doubt. His eyes kept trailing between my own and my lips, as if trying not to kiss me, before giving in.

How can it feel so right? It is nothing but dreamlike I'm gonna touch you now

Noah's lips pressed against mine with a tender urgency, as if longing to convey all the emotions he couldn't put into words. The warmth of his touch seeped through my skin and I felt myself melting into him. Our kiss deepened, the intensity building between us like an invisible electric current.

We stood there, locked in each other's embrace for what felt like an eternity before Noah pulled away, his eyes still fixed on mine. His thumb gently caressed my bottom lip, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. He leaned his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin as we stayed entwined in our own little world of shared desire.

“I’m sorry, not sorry for breaking into your house; because otherwise, we wouldn’t be here,” Noah said.

“I forgive you, clearly,” I laughed, “but you could always try to make it up to me again if you feel like it?”

Noah let out a puff of air, hands running down my neck along my curves, resting at the top of my hips, “I like that idea.”

I grinned at him, my hands resting at the back of his tattooed neck, the apple and snake teasing me.

Noah's warm breath tickled my ear as he leaned in close. "I can't stop thinking about how you taste," he whispered, referring to our one brief encounter. I moaned softly as he hungrily kissed me again, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. Our heads tilted and we shared passionate open-mouthed kisses, devouring each other in the moment. Noah pressed his hips against mine, causing a soft moan to escape from my throat. As much as I wanted to continue, I couldn't ignore the fact that I had to go to work soon.

I pushed his chest gently, “It’s already 6… I need to leave for work in half an hour.”

Noah gave me a sly smile, “You underestimating my skills?”

I chuckled, “Not at all.”

“I bet I could make you come in two minutes,” His fingers trailed up the sides of my torso, fingers tracing circles across the skin.

I hummed, “Hmm, what do I get if you can’t?”

Noah leaned towards my ear, fingers squeezing right below my chest, “then I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, and you’ll come again.”

My body shivered from his words, and my stomach began to swirl with excitement as Noah’s hands worshiped my body, whispering lustful promises as he peppered kisses down my neck. Noah peeked over at the clock on my nightstand briefly.

“6:04.”

I closed my eyes as my breath quickened, following Noah towards the wall. My back pressed against it as he pushed against me, his body radiating heat. He gripped my wrists and pinned them above my head, holding me in place while his other hand trailed down to my waistline, igniting my desire.

I succumbed to Noah’s touch as his touch slid through me, circling and prodding. Whatever he was doing left me completely giving in to his caress; the fact both of us were still completely clothed made this moment that much more invigorating.

Noah’s teeth hooked on my bottom lip as he ravaged my mouth. I moaned earnestly as his fingers sank through my slick, curling towards my need. His palm pushed against me, rubbing and maintaining a repetitive pattern, and my legs began to give out. How he could make me surrender with his hand alone had me flustered.

(I'm in a) (I'm in a) (I'm in a) I'm in a, I'm in a dreamlike state

I rutted my hips towards his touch and Noah smiled into my lips, “so needy,” he mumbled.

I sighed eagerly as he continued his method, my body trembling in response, close to my release.

“C’mon princess, you can do it,” Noah muttered, trailing his lips down my neck towards my collarbone, before snagging his teeth on a sensitive spot. He sucked and nibbled at my skin, branding me.

I didn’t even care, exhilaration taking over.

Noah slipped his fingers out, sliding them up until he reached the top, pressing the pad of his fingers and circling them quickly. I shuddered, my body crumbling as I cried out his name.

Can it feel so right? It is nothing but dreamlike I'm gonna touch you now

Noah smiled into me again as his head lay pressed against my neck, satisfied and prideful of his actions.

My chest heaved as I came down from the high, folding off of the wall into his arms. I clutched onto his sweater for support, turning my head to the clock. 6:08

“That was four minutes,” I panted.

“Looks like I owe you,” Noah’s smug smile said it all.

I chuckled, looking up at him, eyes dilated with satisfaction “Oh, what a shame.”

Noah grinned, the whites of his teeth making my heart flutter. He sat on my bed, adjusting himself in his pants before watching me pace around my room, picking out my work clothes.

I opted for leggings and a square-cut long-sleeve. I took the clothes out of my closet, holding them to my chest before turning around.

“Uh…” I looked at the brunette, his hair cascading down his face perfectly, “Do you uhm, can you turn around?”

Noah choked out a laugh, “huh? you do realize that I’ve seen you like, partially naked? And just touched you?”

My face flushed, “Yeah… but still.”

Noah chuckled, obliging as he turned around on the bed to face the wall. I began stripping, pulling my leggings up before changing my shirt. I peered at Noah, noticing his head whip back around.

“Hey!” I laughed, “No peaking!”

Noah turned around once I was dressed, sticking his tongue out playfully, “Whatever do you mean?”

I rolled my eyes as Noah stood up, scratching the back of his neck, “I’d say we’ve at least levelled up to buddies.”

Yea, fuck buddies?

I hummed, “I agree, definitely more than level-two acquaintances.”

Noah nodded at me with a lighthearted glare, “Friends would be too far right now.”

“Definitely,” I mimicked his expression before leading us down the stairs.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to eat,” I said, “but if you want, you could come to the bar?”

“I’d like that,” Noah bent down to slip on his vans as I put on my black Converse.

I chewed my lip, “Did you want to invite your friends? Maybe talk about the offer?”

Noah stood up, frowning, “Y/N- I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Well, at least ask them, see what they say,” I looked at him with a serious expression, “I wasn’t kidding with the offer. I have the basement finished but unfurnished; and a spare bedroom upstairs. You guys would have your own space.”

Noah stared at the floor, kicking up the side of the carpet nervously, “I mean I’ll talk to them.”

I couldn’t help but smile widely, “Please do. Now lets go or I’ll be late.”

+++++

NOAH

Ruffilo, Jolly, Folio and I sat in a booth at Sammy’s, with the trio observing me intently as I recounted the situation. "She offered us a place to stay for free," I whispered to my companions, stealing glances at Y/N as she attended to customers. Her hair, a lovely shade of H/C, framed her face delicately, and my heart skipped a beat at the sight of her genuine and radiant smile as she served drinks to the woman in front of her. She brought light and charisma into the room with her presence, igniting an incandescence that was hard to ignore.

“No fucking way we are doing that,” Jolly said, glancing at Y/N briefly before folding his arms, sinking into the leather of the booth.

“I mean,” Nick began, looking between us, “This would help us out a lot Jolly.”

“-and Noah,” Nicholas said, “Like we pay roughly 130 bucks a night. That’s $3,900 we’d save him right there.”

All of us peered over at Y/N, and she lifted her head, giving us all a smile.

“Why would she do that for you? For us? What’s in it for her?” Jolly said, skeptical.

I had no fucking idea why she would, but I was desperate for any amount of help I could get.

I shrugged, “I don’t know.”

She was selfless, enigmatic, and completely sublime.

“How long have you known her?” Nick raised a brow, plucking a fry from the plate in the middle of us.

I winced, “Er, two days?”

Folio’s eyes bulged out of his head as he leaned forward, chest pressed into the table, “Ain’t no fucking way this is real. She has to be getting something out of it.”

Jolly snorted, “yea, his dick.”

I scoffed, rolling my head back dramatically, “Oh fuck off !”

“That’s not what the hickey on her neck-”

“Oh, Can it Jolly, have any of you ever thought that maybe Y/N is just a nice person?

I reached for a fry and dunked it in ketchup before taking a bite. "People like us don't deserve kindness." Ruffilo glanced at me, clearly disappointed. "Don't say that. We've done some questionable things, but it's how we survive." "And besides," added Folio, "we can't offer financial assistance. D doesn't even know Y/N exists, so he wouldn't suspect any involvement from us." Nicholas nodded in agreement.

I watched the three of them as they gave me a sullen smile, “I’m worried D will be suspicious that our locations will move though; and that it will put her in danger.”

“She must know there’s a risk, considering you filled her in on everything,” Nick took a sip of his beer.

“Why she’s willing to risk everything she’s worked towards beats me,” I said, sighing heavily.

“Worked towards?” Nicholas asked.

The boys waited for me to answer.

She bargains with the world So everything she wants will come to her With no greed inside her mind She knows what she deserves

“She’s been through some fucked up shit I guess, but she saved a bunch of money and moved here to start over her life. She works two jobs almost every day to afford everything,” I looked back at Y/N for a prolonged period, my heart beating quickly, “She just kept telling me she knows what it’s like, and she wished people helped her.”

“So pity?” Jolly gave me a sarcastic smile, nodding rapidly.

“No,” I defended, “because she is a generous person.”

We remained silent, chewing our food quietly before Jolly spoke.

“Well, I suppose it’s worth a shot,” He said, eying the fries before staring at me, “for Noah.”

“Yeah, for me, but also you guys. She offered it to all of us,” I said.

Nicholas looked over at her warmly, “That’s kind of her. Really kind.”

We fell from sky with grace And landed in her soft and warm embrace She gave her love, her gift of life So we could live with her

I stood up, walking towards the bar, sitting on a stool in front of her. She nodded to another customer before smiling at me, waltzing over.

“So?” She bit her lip, almost looking hopeful.

I picked at the resin counter, my nail grinding within a divot in the material as I distracted myself from her, “How early can we move in?”

“Tonight if you want.”

Y/N and I shared a look before I nodded, giving a gentle laugh, “Okay. Want to meet your new roommates? Considering you haven’t even met the guys you offered your entire life to.”

Y/N laughed, “yea. I’m realizing how crazy I sound the more realistic this becomes.”

I motioned for the boys to come over and they did, each with a beer in their hand, sitting on either side of me along the counter.

Y/N gave them a sunny grin, introducing herself.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Nicholas said politely.

“You as well,” she nodded, before looking at Folio.

“I’m Nick, Nick folio,” He held out his hand, wrapping around her own and shaking.

She then moved to Jolly, who gave her a curt smile. Although he was stand-off-ish, she greeted him warmly.

“Joakim, but call me Jolly,”

“So, tonight?” I eyed everyone, who all turned to look at Y/N.

She shrugged, “I’m off at midnight. I can help take stuff over.”

“Well, we don’t exactly have a lot. We can probably take everything in two trips,” Nick said.

“I can help, I’ll meet you guys at the motel.”

+++++

We carefully packed all of our belongings into our backpacks and suitcases, and my chest tightened as I realized that we were leaving the place we had called 'home' for the past few years.

Nick shook his head in disbelief as he played Tetris with our belongings, fitting them perfectly into our vehicle.

"I have to admit," Nicholas said as he helped Jolly carry out their old guitars, "It will be a nice change to live in an actual house for a while."

“Good point,” Jolly mumbled, “But I’m still suspicious.”

That is why we live like heathens Stealing from the trees of Eden

Y/N made it over to the motel around 12:30, and we packed her car as well.

All of us stood outside the motel, part of us grieving for departing what we’ve always known; the other relishing in gratitude for this new opportunity.

Y/N placed a hand on my shoulder as I stared at the motel door plaintively.

Living in the arms of freedom And everything we touch is evil That is why we live like heathens

I gave her a sorrowful smile before nodding at my brothers, “Y/N will lead the way.”

As I sat in the passenger seat of Y/N's car, my eyes drifted to the window as we drove past towering buildings and bustling streets toward her neighbourhood; our new home. My heart was filled with both excitement and disbelief - how did I get so lucky to have this amazing woman in my life?

Once we arrived and entered the house, Juice, the friendly orange fur ball, greeted us at the door and immediately won over the boys with his playful antics. Y/N proudly gave us a tour of her humble abode before leading us down to the basement. As she had mentioned, it was bare and unfurnished, save for a few scattered cardboard boxes and a pristine rack of guitars that caught my eye. The room echoed with potential and possibility, just waiting to be transformed into our own personal haven.

“Holy shit- is that a Martin D-41?” Jolly immediately smiled, walking over to assess the guitars, “and an Ernie Ball Music Man John Petrucci Majesty?”

“Damn, and a Gibson Thunderbird IV Bass?” Ruffilo joined in on the geek sesh, both of them giddy.

Y/N laughed, “Wow, you must know your stuff. Those were my dads, he was really into music.”

She walked over, grazing her fingers across the strings, “I’ve kept them in his memory, but I have no idea how to play.”

I watched her as she picked up the Martin, handing it to Jolly, “feel free to use them whenever you want; they deserve some love, they were made to be played.”

Jolly’s lips fell open before he smiled warmly, gazing at the guitar, “You’re so fucking cool.”

We all chuckled and I watched Y/N in awe as she interacted with my brothers, taking them in and treating them as if she’d known us all for years.

The stone, the dirt, the dust The unforgiving promise made to us Unworthy of your light, your god, your touch We're guided by the lust

“I only have one blow-up mattress I take camping, but there is a bed in the spare room, and the couch in the living room…” She looked between the four of us until her eyes landed on me.

“Uh,” Her cheeks flushed as she spoke, “we can always share my bed tonight until I can pick up a couple of mattresses…”

We cry the fallen names We cry for those who burned beneath the flame We stand besides the good and brave The broken and enslaved

My face warmed along with her and I coughed, straightening up, “Yeah, no worries.”

The boys watched us, a low chuckle leaving Folio. Y/N grabbed spare blankets, pillows and the blow-up mattress from the closet. She set up the bed, which Jolly dibsed. Nick took the couch, and Nicholas took the spare room down the hall from Y/N’s.

Y/N and I went into her room and she shut the door quietly, turning around, sighing.

“Well,” she blew out a puff of air, giving me a kind smile, “this is interesting.”

I nodded, following her with my eyes as she began getting ready for bed, brushing her H/C hair, and wiping off her makeup for the day. I admired her beauty, staring at her with reverence. She was brilliant.

“I-I can sleep on the floor Y/N. I don’t mind,” I whispered as she slid an oversized t-shirt over her frame, stripping off her work attire.

I licked my lips, swallowing harshly before averting my eyes, reminding myself that now was not the time to get worked up. She had to be at the cafe in a few hours.

Juice purred as he curled into a bed next to her windowsill, eying us from the corner.

Y/N turned off her main light, flicking on a dim lamp that cascaded a soft orange aura across the room before she crawled into bed, opening the covers and patting next to her.

“You can sleep with me, it’s okay.”

My feet shuffled restlessly as I adjusted my hoodie, draping it over the chair by her vanity along with my jeans. Just a few hours ago, I was pressing her against the wall, consumed by passion and filled with confidence. Yet now, I felt shy and vulnerable. It was strange how this simple act of sleeping in a bed with her felt more intimate than the sexual encounter we had shared earlier.

Her love is yours But only if you give your heart to her

I walked over to her, sliding myself between her covers, and lay as close to the edge as possible.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” She mumbled, jumping out of bed and leaving towards the bathroom, returning shortly with a bottle of pills and a cup of water.

She opened the bottle, turned around and placed one on her tongue before taking a swig of water. I watched as she placed her pills on her desk, before hopping back into bed.

That is why we live like heathens Stealing from the trees of Eden Living in the arms of freedom And everything we touch is evil

She crawled underneath the covers, snuggling into the duvet as she lay on her side, facing me.

We remained silent for a few moments before she asked me a question in a small voice, “Is it ok if the light stays on?”

I preferred the lights off, but I wasn’t going to share my preference; I was invading her space.

“I have trouble sleeping,” She whispered.

“Of course it’s ok,” I said, pulling the covers over my shoulders.

“Okay,” her eyes fluttered open and closed, fighting against sleep, “goodnight Noah.”

I watched as her lashes touched the tops of her cheeks, her eyebrows releasing tension from the day, lips parted gently as sleep took over.

My eyes danced across her features, completely captivated. Y/N breathed slowly, and my hand subconsciously reached over, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear as I endeared over her.

“you’re my saving grace,” I whispered as I stroked her hair, still completely baffled this was all happening.

I watched her for a moment longer before I turned over, facing the door and her desk. My eyes trailed over to the bottle that rested on her desk, the yellow plastic alluring. Zolpidem. 700 dollars right there.

Destruction. Crime. Greed.

That is why we live like heathens That is why we live like heathens That is why we live like heathens

Chapter 6

Tags:@crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken

@princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerant

@veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @cncohshit @scrumptiousfestivalpost @melcchs

@flowery-mess @mentallynot-here @judging-from-afar @darkmxgician @badomensls

@hoe-for-daddywise @philomenie @xxkittenkissesxx @venturethroughtheveil @thefallennightmare

@blend-in-with-the-madness @reyadawn @deathblacksmoke @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @rumoured-whispers @artificialbreezy

[accio-victuuri]

(13) Fake Rumors - from the vault

I have been going through some old rumors from the fake house & decided to share some. whether these may be new to you or not, but i hope you still enjoy them as much as I did looking back. I feel like in the fandom, we’ve only ever been active when it comes to lrlg and the 49 fakes. the rest of the information that fall in between aren’t as talked about or depends on the topic. as with all other bjyx material, i want a place to store some parts of it. 🤍

these are sort of random, the ones that I had saved and found again. treat it all as fiction.

( someone please make an AU fic or edit for this xz and wyb. there is a story here. look at them. 😍😍😍 )

i have traveled a long way, you have dreamed a long time. many lonely nights drift like fallen leaves but it always finds a way….🍃🍂

(1) this one was posted for the new year 🎉

XZ: Get me a courier later

🧔‍♂️:Okay

====

🧔‍♂️:What is it? It’s so light

XZ: made-up parts, Legos.

*XZ talking to a staff so he can send out some lego parts. I think it’s light because what he is sending are “parts” that WYB is missing and he found them for him. I truly like the idea of XZ spoiling WYB when it comes to his hobbies and him being invested in it too even if he isn’t necessarily a fan too. true love! and well, reminded me of the rumored lego set gift during the early days of cql filming.

(2) have you eaten?

About the backstage live broadcast of a recent event on the same stage

WYB:Have you eaten yet?

XZ: *shakes head*

WYB: Come have dinner with me later

XZ: Who else? (Looking over it, I don’t know what I’m looking for)

WYB: Stop looking for it. I’ll send it to you next time.

Supplement: Teacher W watched Teacher X take off his makeup before leaving together.

*The usual WYB making sure that XZ eats and him waiting for his gege so they can eat with each other. Even after the CQL filming, as long as they are at the same event they will try and be together. Tho instances of that have been so rare to 0 nowadays because of the amount of eyes on them.

(3) the forbidden book lol

The crew's study period

WYB: Where is the erotic book? I want to read it.

XZ: Suddenly got up and left.

*This is one of my faves even if it’s so short! Library Pavilion behind the scenes & rumors is the gift that keeps on giving. I wouldn’t put it pass WYB to troll ZZ with this.

Here’s a GIF for you to bring you back to that time🤍

(4) call me maybe? 📱

There was a period last year where everyone had to learn rap, usually🐂 learned the fastest but he was absent-minded that time🐂 was looking at us eating delicious food while resting, it seems that he is thinking his rap, he seemed to be even more tired. At this time, staff handed over the phone and he left immediately to pick it up.

He called him, and when he came back he didn't have any special expression, but he felt refreshed. 

(5) praising

WYB: I really like to be praised by everyone and feel "wow" from everyone, so every time Da Zhen's family praises me crazily, I will secretly write it down and send it to him.

XZ: I am also a part-time praise captain. Every time I praise,None of them are the same.He can often keep up with the facts.

WYB: I don’t understand a lot of Internet slang.

XZ: I always hurt him by saying, "No, you don't even know this joke, so WYB doesn't go online?" Just. very good. Laughing, every time I feel hurt, I secretly say "He is better than me. I'm young, I know everything." What kind of tone is this? One time during a video, XZ sang "Darling, come and save me." Seeing WYB's ears slowly become red and coughed. Who can tell me what’s going on with these lyrics?

(6) baking shenanigans

The puff pastry made by XZ is very delicious, WYB will also work with XZ to help when he has time. He’s busy getting started, and they will also do some weird things. If there is a strange taste, try it with the people around you.

Once WYB squeezed minced garlic into the pastry and mixed chili powder, but forgot to mark it, XZ ate it, pinched the back of the neck and squeezed the flesh of the face "Teacher Trained WYB”

*IM CACKLING AT THIS OMG WYB 😂😂😂 what flavor of pastry is that????

(7) another one about eating

Aling period

WYB: Why are you back?

XZ: Come back for dinner, there will be a show in the afternoon

WYB: Aren’t you going to eat with your friends?

XZ: I didn’t agree when someone wanted to invite me, it was too stupid.

WYB: xls It’s so difficult to eat normally today

XZ: You haven’t eaten it, have you?

WYB: Nope. I just thought you were back.

(8) checking the weather

XZ: “The weather doesn’t look like it’s going to rain...(Look 📱)

👤: "It should be sunny..."

XZ: “I just saw📱the weather forecast showed it’s going to rain soon.

👤: How is that possible? It’s obviously sunny. "(春📱)

XZ: "Huh?" (👤♥Two people facing each other📱)

XZ: Overcast to light rain to moderate rain.

👤: What you are looking at is the weather

XZ: Oh my God, so embarrassing...

XZ forgot to switch cities. no one will know the city WYB was in that day if I don’t tell you.

*This one hits different cause for this rumor, they are in different cities but in the same country. Lately, there are times that they are in diff countries so do they look at the weather their too? 🥹🥹🥹

I can’t relate to their obsession with the weather, but if that gives them a sense of connection to each other then it’s fine.

(9) raining

💚Supplement: It’s when the temperature gradually rises. At that time, it rained in June.

💚Holding an umbrella💚❤️talking all the way

❤️Start standing on the right side of 💚

💚Hold the umbrella and tilt it in the direction of ❤️

❤️Thick clothes💚Left half of light-colored thin clothes

The edges are wet and very transparent.

❤️Just keep pushing the umbrella in the direction of 💚

I wanted to block 💚 a little more, but found it was fine.

After seeing the effect, I found an opportunity to move it to the left side of 💚

Then 💚 the right half also got wet

Both centered and symmetrical….…..

(10) them and their parents.

Regarding their parents, I currently know the older one’s mom and dad can also surf the internet, and talk about about their CP and their impression of WYB is good. But his mother actually really wants to have a grandchild. His father is very indifferent when the older one comes home. I'm sure his mother won't be able to bear it. She asked him bluntly, the older ones always focus on work to fool her in the past. In July this year not only did he tell the truth to his family but took the younger one back with him.

It’s time for dinner at home, and the younger one is very nervous. He is afraid that the family will think he is not good enough. He bought a lot of things and piled them up for backup. He sprayed perfume and dressed properly and pretended. The older one made him want to laugh when he looks at him, just fool around. The younger one calls him a big bastard.

The mother on the table was holding jianguo and said she could only count on her to give birth to a litter of grandsons.

* I know that talk about their parents is sensitive and would always lead to more discussion, but again, treat this as fiction. and tbh, who could resist WYB as a son in law??? It I had a son and he brings home WYB as a boyfriend I will be very happy. I also feel soft that XZ is trying to tease and make WYB laugh.

(11)

What happened last year

WYB: Is it delicious?

XZ: (nodding while eating) Yeah, it’s quite delicious.

WYB: What about others?

XZ: Wait a minute...Wow, I just ate that, this one has no taste.

WYB: Is it too spicy?

XZ: It’s okay, but my tongue is numb and I can’t taste other flavors.

WYB: Wait a minute, drink some water. Is it really that spicy?

XZ: Try it yourself. You didn't keep it for yourself? Wasn't it sent from you?

WYB: I didn't take it apart. Bring it to me.

Then XZ really ate so much that he left two packets and took them back to WYB.

(You send it to me and I will bring it back to you. What kind of trick is this?)

What happened this year

XZ: It’s been too cold these two days.

👤: Southern kids.

XZ: :Then northerners also feel cold. Cold is cold.

(Okay, I know you have northerners in your family, next one)

👤When teasing XZ and WYB, XZ’s response was, “Hahaha” and send out red envelopes. As expected of Boss XZ.

I saw other people's submissions and came to do some post-sale service. I heard that XZ sang to put WYB to sleep. I know that there is indeed mmxhn, and there is a six-character song related to snow. (There are probably others somewhere that I don’t know about)

(12) like a fairy

XXX was wearing Iwj's white clothes for the first time

XX: Fairy, descended to earth to overcome the tribulation

XXX: Isn’t fairy a dog? You have so much information but no good words.

XX: Compliment you for being good-looking and handsome.wls, wow, so handsome!

XXX: xls looks better than me, our xls is so beautiful, ancestor of Yiling

XX: Stop, stop, it’s so shameful

*My favorite kind of rumor is when WYB goes gremlin on XZ! 😂😂😂😂

(13) cravings

WYB has been craving for "cai cai rice" recently, XZ told him many times that spring is not so good to have wild vegetables, even if they are cooked. WYB said he doesn’t care about wild vegetables he just wants to eat the vegetable rice cooked by XZ, but I don’t have that. It smells good, I just want to eat it.

In the end, he still didn’t get the cabbage meal, but freshly baked dumplings. WYB got a bargain and acted nice, he was acting coquettishly while eating.

* Oh to be WYB and have someone like XZ cook for youuuu 😍😍😍😍

-END.

P.S : this ye mi and xiao zhan AU pairing is living in my mind rent free. 🥵🥵🥵

[yurimother]

The Best Yuri of 2019

2019 was a challenging year for many, in and out of the anime community, which is still reeling from the horrific attack at Kyoto Animation’s first studio in July that killed 36 people. However, I want to take this moment, as we start a new decade, to reflect on some of the greatest achievements in Yuri.

2019 marked the genre’s 100th anniversary, 100 years since Nobuko Yoshiya released her landmark lesbian novel Yaneura no Nishojo that shaped and created Yuri as we know it. It was possible Yuri’s best years ever, as more incredible titles were released and localized, we experienced fantastic events and moments, and more. This article is part of my continuing celebration of all things Yuri!

Note that many of the works mentioned came out before 2019, but they either were first released in English during 2019 or hit particular high points during this year. Now then, here is the best of Yuri in 2019!

15: SukeraSparo

This Japanese Yuri visual novel developer is starting to reach new heights as they set their sights on releasing new and innovate Yuri titles. The English release of The Expression Amrilato, an educational Yuri visual novel that teaches the player Esperanto, was one of the most unique and creative works I have the pleasure of playing this year. But, they outdid themselves this year, releasing a sequel, Itsuka no Memorajxo, creating one of the most beautiful Yuri games in Folklore of Kudan, and founding a sister brand, SukeraSomero, “to fill the world with YURI!”

The Expression Amrilato is available in English for PC on Steam and Mangagamer

14: Mage & Demon Queen

This outrageous and vivacious webcomic hits its stride in Season 2. After setting a solid foundation, this masterpiece by Kuru “Color-LES” is finally able to explore some more interesting plot lines such as its characters’ pasts, conflicts between the demons and humans, and figuring out who’s gonna be the bottom (it’s Malori, it was always going to be Malori). It is chock full of modern humor and moments I can only describe as hilariously kinky, while rarely feeling gross of sleazy. I can only wait to see what is next for these star-crossed lovers.

Mage & Demon Queen: is available to read in English on Webtoon

13: Yuri Anthologies

In 2018, Yen Press gave us the first hint of some Yuri anthologies starting to squeak into the West with Éclair, but 2019 threw the floodgates open! New works are coming out in both Japan and the West, featuring multiple artists coming together to create works featuring workplace romance, isekai, first-time stories, and even MARRIAGE!! Additionally, creators released volumes collecting their various short stories, like Rouge Nagashiro’s Eve and Eve, and some series saw multiple artists contribute to an already established world such as in the Bloom Into You Anthologies.

12: SHWD

Sono’s science fiction Yuri doujinshi series, published in English by Lilyka, is everything I did not know I wanted in a Yuri series. It showcases pulse-pounding action as the women of the “Special Hazardous Waste Disposal” fight to take down the horrific Dynamis. It has musclebound beasts of women that exude strength, power, and femininity at all times. And it has a compelling story about overcoming personal conflicts and learning to rely on others.

SHWD is available digitally on Lilyka

11: If I Could Reach You

No other series this year delivered an emotional gut-punch like If I Could Reach You. This tragic and beautiful manga by tMnR follows a young girl as she attempts hopelessly to overcome her attraction to her brother’s wife. Everything from the artwork to the dialogue masterfully communicates the devastation and pain that the protagonist Uta feels. It is beautiful and devastating, and I carry every awesome moment on my mind continuously.

If I Could Reach You is available digitally and physically in English from Kodansha: https://amzn.to/36vsYPe

Honorable mention: SQ/Tamen de Gushi/Their Story 

2019 was a little bit of a slow year for Tan Jiu’s webtoon, thanks to an extended hiatus, especially when compared to 2018’s triumphant and spectacular storyline. However, small moments of genius like Sun Jing’s father’s phenomenal visual monologue keep this work in peak form top and my heart. I hope that its recent Japanese serialization on Comic Walker help even more people enjoy it.

10: Still Sick

In my recent review, I called this workplace romance a “Yuri manga for Yurijin,” and there is no way I could come up with a more apt description. Still Sick surprised me with its self-awareness, knowledge, and commentary on the genre. It has an incredibly deep story about two complex and layered characters that ignite each other’s passion, in more ways than one.

Still Sick is available digitally and physically in English from Tokyopop: https://amzn.to/2rVRH07

9: Going Beyond Girl Meets Girl

Yuri stories tend to repeat the same story, two girls meet, they fall for each other, they get together, THE END! The past decade or so has finally seen more stories adding sexual elements, in contrast to earlier S works, and some even explored the dating life of two schoolgirls. However, we have recently seen something remarkable: works featuring couples “graduating” (literally or metaphorically) and enter the real world. Series like Citrus, Kase-san, and, briefly, Bloom Into You explore the relationships as they exit the honeymoon phase and get into the meat of lesbian livelihood.

Kase-san and Yamada is available for English preorder: https://amzn.to/2MXnp4w

8: Nagata Kabi

Over the past few years, Nagata Kabi has redefined what the Yuri genre can be. Her powerful autobiographical manga essays My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness, My Solo Exchange Diary, and Genjitsu Touhi Shitetara Boroboro ni Natta Hanashi communicate her experiences with queer identity, mental illness, and alcoholism. No work of fiction could ever hope to reach Nagata’s strength and crushing honesty. Nagata’s manga has and will continue to change readers and the genre for years to come.

My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness is available digitally and physically in English from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/2MZ7DWJ 

7: Bloom Into You

Nakatani Nio’s popular Yuri series Bloom Into You crushed it in 2019. It concluded serialization, ending on an incredibly high note, and dominating the market in both English and Japanese, selling over one million copies (well deserved). Additionally, Sentai Filmworks released an excellent collector’s edition of the 2018 television anime adaption that is now a must-have for Yuri collectors. But my favorite aspect of this series is the spin-off light novel series featuring one of its best characters, which have already begun English release.

Bloom Into You: Regarding Saeki Sayaka is available digitally and for physical preorder from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/2SVPVHG

6: Heart of the Woods

When I heard that one of the co-creators of Highway Blossoms, one of the better English Yuri visual novels, was creating his own studio, I was pretty excited. But nothing could have prepared me for Studio Élan's first release, Heart of the Woods, which blew me away. The enchanting adventure full of exceptionally queer characters shattered every expectation I had. I am looking forward to its Switch port and voice acting patch, as well as more titles from Élan.

Heart of the Woods is available for PC on Steam. Switch edition coming later this year.

Honorable mention: Hayama-sensei to Terano-sensei wa Tsukiatte iru

Oui Pikachi’s manga about two teachers navigating a new relationship is one of my new favorites. Everyone is so supportive of the title characters as they stumble their way through an honest and mature love. However, I am only giving it an honorable mention this year, as I am sure it will be on this list next year after Seven Seas releases the first volume in English as The Gym Teacher and School Nurse are Dating!

The Gym Teacher and School Nurse are Dating! is available for preorder in English from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/39JhXMs

5. Sexiled

Ameko Kaeruda’s spectacularly feminist and outrageously funny light novel series Sexiled is could ever ask for and more. I feel in love with its compelling female characters and their riveting battle against the sexist conventions of their society, all of which painfully mirror reality. This work is cathartic, empowering, and so very, very gay.

Sexiled is available digitally in English from J-Novel Club. Physical edition coming later this year: https://amzn.to/35u6NaW

4: Yuri Life

I adore domestic Yuri. Granted, I love a good romance and fantasy, but so many of these stories exist that it feels overwhelming, and sometimes it is just good to sit down and read about two women who love each other living their everyday adult lives in bliss. Kurukuruhime’s Yuri Life, which I have enjoyed ever since it was first uploaded to Pixiv and am so proud to own in print, is precisely that. Nine couples being cute and living together in a variety of humorous, scandalous, and adorable situations. Yuri cohabitation has never been so good! Now, if I could only get some Yuri titles about women raising kids together…

Yuri Life is available digitally and physically in English from Yen Press: https://amzn.to/35stSLg

3: Children’s Cartoons

For the past several years, children’s cartoons and media have slowly begun to allow bits of queer representation onto the screen. While we are still a long way from having Elsa kiss a girl, the small and large victories on children’s television give me hope. Some of my personal favorites include an episode of Nickelodeon’s The Loud House about a lesbian date, a lesbian couple and agender character (using they/them pronouns) in Craig of the Creek, the female protagonist of Twelve Forever developing a crush on another girl, and of course the unbelievable amount of queerness that She-Ra and Steven Universe shove into every moment. I wish I had more series like these when I was young, and I am thrilled that my students get to grow up with them.

2: Our Dreams at Dusk (Shimanami Tasogare)

Yuhki Kamatani’s Our Dreams at Dusk is easily 2019’s best manga. The incredible story explores many real aspects of LGBTQ identities, gay, lesbian, trans, non-binary, and asexual included, in an emotional and resonating masterpiece. The artwork is stunning and more expressive than words could ever be. I stand by what I said in my review, that Our Dreams at Dusk is the greatest manga I have ever read and wholeheartedly believes that it was deserving of the only 10/10 score I gave in 2019.

Our Dreams at Dusk is available digitally and physically in English from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/2s282AE

Honorable mention: ‘The Conditions of Paradise’ Licensed

One of the best moments of this year came out of Anime Expo when Seven Seas announced that they had licensed Morishima Akiko’s Rakuen no Jouken and would be releasing it as The Conditions of Paradise in 2020. Not only is The Conditions of Paradise a fantastic and mature work of Yuri literature, but it is also over a decade old, having been published originally in 2007. This license, more than anything else, helped me realize how far Yuri came this year. Not only is the hottest new series being adapted, but a historic and profound classic of the genre.

The Conditions of Paradise is available for preorder in English: https://amzn.to/2FjTE9M

1: Yuri Publishers

Not too long ago, it was rare for us to see more than a few Yuri manga releases in a year if any, but now we are at the point where a publisher can do an event announcing five Yuri licenses in a single day! As of this year, all the major publishers, and plenty of smaller ones, are actively licensing, adapting, and publishing amazing Yuri works: Yen Press, Viz, Kodansha, Seven Seas, Tokyopop, Renta, J-Novel Club, and more keep giving us incredible Yuri. I also have to mention the incredible work Lilyka Manga is doing, working directly with mangaka to adapt Yuri doujinshi titles into English, something I would have never dreamed of a few years ago.

As Yuri enters its second century, we are staring down the rest of 2020, a year that will no doubt go down in current Yuri history. The year will see a record number of Yuri manga releases both in Japan and from licensed series in the West. We are getting several promising anime series like Adachi to Shimamura, Magia Record, Oshi ga Budoukan Ittekuretara Shinu, a Princess Principal movie, and more. I cannot wait to see what this year will hold for YuriMother and the Yuri genre. I hope you all stick with me through it as we navigate the waters of a newer, gayer, and greater world of Yuri.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 5: You Make It Easy

Summary: Steve finally takes Katie out on a date.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! And a whole heap of fluffy fluff fluff.

A/N: Once again, a huge thank you to @angrybirdcr​ for her lovely little edit.

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

Chapter 4

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

The elation Steve had felt about actually getting a date with Katie soon evaporated the next morning when he realised he hadn’t the first CLUE about where to take her, what to do or what to wear. He wasn’t naïve, he knew dating had changed since his day but the fact he had no reference point to even start from, having never been on a date before, wasn’t helpful either.  So he sought some advice

“A nice shirt and jeans.” Peggy smiled at him, the old woman elated he had finally done it. “Nothing too flash, and pick a restaurant. It doesn’t have to be fancy, women are more impressed by a man who’s paying them attention instead of simply paying for the meal.”

“Okay, right.”

“You know her, Steve.” Peggy looked at him. “What type of food does she like?”

“Italian, Chinese, but we do that all the time.” He shrugged, before he stopped, suddenly remembering something she had said to Evans a couple of weeks back in exercise, “You know, come to think of it she has mentioned a new place in town. La Placa I think it’s called.” “See, there you go.”  Peggy patted him on his arm before she smiled at the look on the young man’s face “Just be yourself Steve, that’s who she wants. No one else.”

“Thanks Peg.”

“And make sure you kiss her goodnight…” She grinned, a twinkle in her eyes. “Us ladies do like a bit of passion every now and then you know.” He rolled his eyes at her cheekiness, running his hand through his hair which was in desperate need of a cut. He stayed with Peggy whilst he googled the restaurant number, made his reservation and then text Katie to tell her where he had booked.

Can’t wait xxx

He grinned to himself, and then pushed his phone away and turned back to find Peggy watching him, a sly grin on her face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before.” she remarked, somewhat wistfully

.He smiled “Been a long time since I felt this good.”

“It suits you.” On his way home he swung into the barbers and stepped in. As he sat in the chair the man asked him what he wanted doing, and he was about to say trim when Katie’s voice stirred in his mind.

“Trying to imagine what you’d look like with shorter hair and a beard…” “Shorn back and sides please,” he said as the man asked him what he wanted, “and take it a little shorter on top.”

******

Katie woke suddenly on top of the comforter on her bed, fully clothed. She’d fallen asleep!  She sat up, thinking back to the last thing she remembered before her nap, piecing her train of thought together. Ah, yes, Steve had messaged her to tell her he’d booked a table somewhere which had prompted her to start looking for an outfit. She’d realised she had no idea what to wear so had been debating calling Pepper to ask for advice, but had decided it wasn’t a good idea because she didn’t want Tony to know she was dating yet, let alone who.

But there was someone she could call. Desperate times called for desperate measures, right?

Biting her lip she sighed and picked up her phone, scanning through to the person she was looking for and the cavalry arrived an hour and a half later in the shape of a red-haired deadly assassin.

“There has to be something in here that’s first date suitable…” Natasha mumbled, as she continued to search through the various items in Katie’s closet. Half Katie’s clothes adorned the floor of her walk-in-wardrobe and bedroom as they had discarded everything she’d tried so far. “It would help if I knew where you were going.” she sipped her beer thoughtfully.

“La Placa.” Katie told her after a pause, “Tapas place, but if you turn up I swear to God…”

“I got better things to do with my spare time.” “No you don’t. And I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

“If you don’t trust me why did you ask for my help?“ Natasha drawled, still rifling through the clothing racks. “Because Pepper is a four hour drive away…”

“Well that’s just rude.” Natasha mumbled and Katie grinned, shaking her head as Nat placed her beer down on the top of a set of drawers and moved to a rail “Ok, try this.”

She pulled out a knee length navy blue Balenciaga dress with a fitted top half, scalloped neck line and three-quarter length lace detailed sleeves. As Katie shrugged it on, Natasha hunted in the shoe rack, pulling out a pair of mid-height nude Kurt Geiger courts with a stiletto heel and matching bag.

“Not bad.” She mumbled as Katie stepped into the heels and gave her a twirl.

“Better than the grey one?” “Definitely.” Natasha nodded approvingly “I think we have a winner!”

Katie gave her a double Hi-Five and Nat picked up her beer as Katie stripped out of the dress and pulled on her T-shirt and shorts, before she glanced around the large bedroom, sighing at the mess.

“Better tidy this up in case things go well.” Nat smirked, before she pondered “Huh, actually, do you reckon Captain America puts out on the first date? Mind you, knowing Roger’s he’s probably a virgin…”

“I’m pretty sure people had casual sex back in the 40s too you know.” Katie rolled her eyes. “He was on the USO tours surrounded by dancing girls, there’s no way he didn’t do the old horizontal tango.”

“Yeah but…its Rogers.” Nat pressed giving a snort “Imagine if you are the one to pop his cherry.”

Katie groaned, shaking her head. “Shut up Widow.”

She smirked “Okay, so how long have we got?”

Katie glanced at her phone “An hour and twenty. And what do you mean we?” “You asked for my help, right?” Natasha shrugged, “Thought I could do your make-up and hair too…” Katie looked at her for a moment and smiled “Thanks.” She shrugged then drained her beer before turning Katie round and pushing her towards the en-suite “Go shower then we’ll start the transformation.”

An hour later Katie was ready. Her hair was curled in soft waves, and her makeup was done, a bit heavier than normal, but still subtle enough to avoid looking like it had been applied with a trowel.

“Perfect.” Nat gave her an appraising look. “Right, I trust you can get dressed without me?” “I think I’ll manage.” Katie said, standing up as she made her way out of the walk-in wardrobe and followed her into the hall where she picked up her jacket.

“Oh and if you need me to bail you, just give me an SOS call…” Nat made a phone sign with her finger and pinkie by her ear. “I think I’ll be ok.” Katie smiled, “but thank you, for all of this.”

“Have fun…” Nat grinned and then added with a smirk “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t”

“That doesn’t exactly leave a lot…” Katie quipped

“That’s my point.” Natasha intoned as she walked into the hall and pressed the button for the elevator.

“Nat, you won’t tell anyone will you?” Katie asked, “I mean, it isn’t that I don’t trust you, just…” Nat paused turning back to the brunette to find her chewing her lip with nerves. She shook her head “I won’t tell a soul. I know how much you two like each other, you’ve been dancing around it for months, so… just enjoy ok? Have a good time. You both deserve it.” “Thanks Nat” Katie smiled. The two girls shared a quick hug and then Nat left

***** Steve had to admit, he liked his new hair. It was much more like the style people sported now, but in a way it also reminded him of how Bucky had worn his back in the Howlies. He picked a light blue shirt, his dark navy jeans and then pondered before settling on a pair of brown boots that matched his jacket and belt. He was ready with plenty of time and found himself pacing as he thought about how the night could go. There was no doubt it was going to be way different to how he had imagined his first date to be. Back in his day it was movies, dinner and a dance. Now there were no dance halls, and they watched movies all the time. But, as Peggy had advised, for once he was going to “go with the flow” and just see where the night took them both.

Finally, after an agonising fifteen minutes during which he had pretty much paced non-stop and drained a good measure of scotch, even though it did nothing bar give him a comforting burn in his throat on the way down, he headed to the cab that was waiting and they set off to pick up his date.

Jesus Christ she looked amazing. Her hair was cascading in waves over her shoulders, the smoky brown eyeshadow she was wearing made the green in her eyes even more noticeable. And her dress…navy blue, knee length with a detailed neckline and sleeves that finished halfway down her forearms. The top half clung to her body where it flared out slightly from her hips and her heels accentuated her shapely calves to perfection. As Steve looked at her he found himself imagining various crude scenarios where said delectable dress ended up on the floor, but that wasn’t gentlemanly. Nor appropriate.

Katie felt her breath catch when she saw Steve. His light blue shirt was tight enough to accentuate his ridiculously well-built top half, and a brown belt with a gold buckle adorned his toned waist. And he’d had a haircut. Gone were his longer locks and side parting, and in its place was a short back and sides with slightly longer strands on the top, tousled into an exceptionally modern style. He looked incredible.

Steve broke the silence between the two, clearing his throat gently.

“You look beautiful.” He leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek.

“Thank you, you look pretty good yourself, you do something to your hair?” Katie teased.

“Thought it was time for a change.” he shrugged it off casually as his cheeks warmed. “Still getting used to it.” “It looks great.” she assured him.

He beat her to her jacket as she reached up to take it off the peg and held it out so she could shrug her arms into it. Once they were in the elevator, he reached out and took her hand and she laced her fingers into his. He glanced down at her, his eyes meeting hers and she flashed him a smile.

Yeah, he’d lucked out, big time.

******

The restaurant was busy but not packed. They were seated at the back in a little booth in the corner. Steve had never had tapas before, but Peggy had explained it to him before.

“So the idea is we pick, what, three or four dishes?” he asked, looking at Katie

“Yeah, they’re like small portions and you share.” Katie nodded. “Although you eat like a horse so we should probably order more.”

He grinned and looked back at his menu.

“You choose.” he placed the card back down eventually, beaten by the list of items. “I literally have no idea…”

“Alright.” Katie grinned. “But you have to try everything…”

“Deal.”

The waiter returned with their drinks and took their food orders. Katie ordered a large enough selection along with a side order of olives and different breads with dipping oils before flashing the waiter a smile and he scuttled off.

“I think this is normally the part where we ask each other questions,” Steve said as the waiter disappeared. “You know, get to know each other a bit more.”

“Yeah… think that ship already sailed though.”

“True,” Steve nodded bashfully, there wasn’t many things that they didn’t know about each other, although as he watched Katie was biting her lip, almost as if she wanted to say something, but at the same time didn’t.

“What is it?” he asked, reaching out for his drink.

“Something Nat said before…” Katie flushed, caught out. There was no way she was asking that question.

“Why does this worry me slightly?” He paused, beer raised halfway to his lips.

Katie looked at him and shook her head, the flush continuing to rise up her neck “Yeah, I’m not, it’s not first date conversation.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Now I’m extremely worried, and a little intrigued.”

“You really want to know?” Katie cocking her head to one side and when he nodded she shrugged. “Alright, you asked for this…” she straightened up in the seat as he did the same, bracing himself. “Are you a virgin?”

Steve groaned and screwed his eyes shut. “No, I’m not.” He sighed shaking his head before he looked back at her. "After I first got the serum there was suddenly all this attention on me and I didn’t really know any better…” “There was no one before?” she frowned slightly, almost as if she was surprised.

He shook his head again. “Girls weren’t exactly interested in me before hand, Bucky was the one who had the looks and the swag. He had a different girl every weekend. I guess when they finally did start looking at me that way I just, I dunno…” He stopped and took a breath. “God, this makes me sound like a right jerk. There weren’t that many”

Three to be exact. And none of them had been anything to write home about. He got the distinct impression they hadn’t particularly enjoyed themselves either, not past the fact they could boast about having bedded Captain America. Plus, he was infatuated by Peggy at that point as well and found he craved the tenderness that was supposed to be associated with the act, not merely the physical bliss. As corny as it sounded, he genuinely wanted someone to be with him intimately that wanted him, not Captain America.

As he watched, he noticed Katie was watching him intently and he swallowed a little as she simply shrugged. .

“We all have a past Steve.”

“I haven’t been with anyone since I came out of the ice.” He added softly, feeling the need to explain that he wasn’t that type of man.

“I haven’t since Grant.” she eyed him. “One night stands are overrated.”

“I wouldn’t know.” He shrugged, locking eyes with her. “That’s all I ever had.”

Katie studied him for a moment. She had no idea why, but to learn he hadn’t had a girl that way before he became some kind of war time celebrity, and knowing that the ones he had been with were probably chasing nothing but the kudos of being able to say they fucked Captain America, made her kind of sad. No wonder he was always so self-doubting.

She smiled and reached across the table, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Well, personally, I think all those girls that picked Bucky over you were dumbasses. I’ve seen the photos of you before all this happened…” she raised her free hand and held out her index finger, and gestured up and down his torso. “You were sweet”

He chuckled and took a drink of his beer. “You know I heard that a lot…you’re really sweet and all but…“

“Like I said…”she leaned back in her chair slightly, “Dumbasses” Steve was aware that her ankle was brushing against his slightly and he felt the warm flush in his cheek at her forwardness, but soon found it disappeared and was replaced instead with simply enjoying the fact she wanted to be so close to him.

As tactful as ever, Katie swiftly moved the conversation on and it took a natural turn to Tony’s renovation of the tower and then New York in general, how much Brooklyn in particular had changed since Steve had left it behind to go to war.

It was through this conversation Steve discovered that in all the time Katie had spent in New York she had never been to Coney Island.

“Maybe I could take you one day, down to the fair.” He suggested.

“I’d love that.” She smiled and his chest swelled even more.

Their food arrived and they continued to talk. And, considering they had started the date off thinking there wasn’t much more to find out about each other, both of them were surprised to see exactly how much trivial stuff there was to learn about the other. For instance, Steve knew that Katie enjoyed baseball but what he didn’t know was that whilst Tony was a Yankees fan, she actually supported the LA Dodgers, having grown up in Malibu. Suddenly her teasing about the fact they had moved made perfect sense. And in turn, Katie knew that the Dodgers relocating was a bug bear of his but, since he would rather go into the ice all over again than support the Yankees, he had started watching out for the Mets results, but apparently it just wasn’t the same and as such he hadn’t been to an actual game since he came out of the ice. Both of them found out the other preferred dogs to cats, cats making Katie sneeze and their ability to hiss and scratch you with no damned warning whatsoever made Steve not trust them as far as he could throw them. 

“I can just read the headlines now!” Katie chuckled after Steve had added that if he wanted to he could probably throw a cat quite far. “Captain America killed my Cat.” Steve let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he picked up his beer. “Don’t cats always land on their feet?” “I dunno, depends how hard you’re intending on throwing it.” “I’m not intending on throwing any cat anywhere.” Steve shook his head “As much as I don’t like them I couldn’t deliberately harm one.” “Tony did. Well not deliberately, and he didn’t so much harm it as kill it…” “Oh you gotta tell me this story!” Steve grinned, leaning forward, topping up Katie’s wine glass from the bottle that was in the ice bucket in the middle of the table.

Katie grinned, “When we were kids, the first place we lived in was down this huge, posh road  with like 3 other houses on and we had this really eccentric neighbour, Mrs Livesy her name was. She had like 18 cats or something ridiculous and one morning, Tony was reversing the car out of the garage and he flattened 2 of them.”

Steve nearly spat his beer back into his glass. “He ran them over?” “Yeah…” Katie said, and by now she was full on laughing “But the best bit is, she comes round asking Dad if he’s seen the cats, dad’s got no idea what’s gone on right as Tony’s moved the cats and bribed me to keep quiet with the biggest ice cream you could imagine, so dad is all like ‘I’ve got no idea Mrs Livesy I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open…” Katie took a deep breath, wiping at her eyes “So then Tony comes back, Dad mentions that Mrs Livesy was looking for 2 of her cats and Tony’s like ‘huh, well you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat’ and me, being the little shit I was at the age of 4 pipes up ‘no that was you this morning, remember?’”

Steve laughed, and watched as she carried on giggling. “He never forgave me for that, Dad made him go round and apologise. And he had to attend a memorial for Mr Whiskers and Bagpuss…”

Eventually after desert and a few more drinks it was time to leave, Katie tried to split the meal bill with Steve but one stern look stopped that in its tracks. This was a date, he was paying. Thankfully she didn’t argue too much. Steve then asked her if she wanted to go for a drink, she gleefully accepted so he took her hand, gently leading her across the road, holding the bar door open for her. They both sat at the bar, Katie turning her seat so she was directly facing him, the pair of them leaning closer to one another as they talked. And the conversation just continued to flow, as did the odd but subtle display of affection, moving their chairs closer together, her hand on his shoulder. Steve was surprised to find how easy the whole thing was. He had no nerves, no awkward moments. The chemistry fizzled and there wasn’t a single moment he was stuck for anything to say. It was for that reason he was disappointed when the bar tender called time and reluctantly stood up as Katie drained the final bit of gin from her glass.

As Steve held out her jacket, his hands gently brushed her shoulders as she shrugged it on, sending a tingle down her spine and the hitch in her breathing didn’t go unnoticed. She turned to face him, all green eyes and pink lips, blinking as her eyes locked onto his and before he could stop them, his hands connected at the base of her spine as she moved closer to him, not moving her gaze from his, hand resting on his chest.

“I’d really like to kiss you again…” Steve said, shyly.

“You know you don’t have to ask.” she replied. Smiling softly he leaned down and connected his lips with hers, the kiss growing slightly deeper until Steve remembered they were in the middle of a public bar. He pulled away gently, resting his forehead against hers briefly, blushing like an absolute moron as a small smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.

“You know, for someone who said they’d never taken a woman on a date before Rogers, you’ve done amazingly well.” she blinked up at him, grinning.

“That’s because you make it easy to be around you.” He shrugged, honestly. He took her hand, curled his fingers round hers and made their way out into the street to hail a cab.

All too soon they pulled up outside her apartment block and both of them found themselves wishing the night would never end. Steve told the driver to wait whilst he hopped out and walked her into the lobby, their hands still twined together. There was a part of him that wanted to follow her in, and a part of her that almost invited him to, but they both wanted to do this right, take their time.

“I think now is the part where I’m supposed to ask you if you had a good time.” Steve turned to face her as they stopped by the elevator door.

“I did.”

“And if you’d go out with me again?” “I already said I would, Coney Island remember?” she replied cheekily, leaning closer to him.

“I meant before that.”  He rolled his eyes.

“I’d love too.” She muttered, and then his lips were on hers again and they were kissing, exactly where they had left off in the bar, only this time they were alone. Steve’s hand snaked into her soft hair, angling her head slightly and she parted her lips, their tongues tangling easily as once more the fireworks erupted deep in Steve’s belly.

“Always leave ‘em wanting more Stevie…” Bucky said, nudging him on the arm, winking as they crossed the fairground towards the girls “That’s the trick…”

Steve couldn’t stop himself from smiling he pulled back. Their night was at an end, it was a perfect place to leave it.

“I really did had a great time tonight, thank you.” Katie whispered as he pressed his forehead to hers, giving her lips another quick peck before he stepped back a little and she reached into her bag for her key card, pressing it to the pad by the elevator.

“Me too.” He smiled as the elevator doors opened. She stepped inside, turning to face him and flashed him another grin.

“Night Stevie.”

“Night, Sweetheart.” He replied as the doors shut. With that, he turned round and grinning to himself he walked back to the cab. Date 1 down, and it had been a roaring success.

**** Chapter 6

**Original Posting**

[go-dark-turtle]

(This is for @spaceispeachy for winning my Saucy N Spicy fan fiction raffle event. Sorry it took so long to get around to writing it~ This is a fem reader however @spaceispeachy name is mentioned here so lets all pretend we share the same name. Please enjoy~

As always there is a Saucy N Spicy warning if you dont wish to read any further. Let me know your thoughts and once again @spaceispeachy thanks for this amazing request and thanks for taking part in my raffle. ONWARDS to the fan fiction~)

Ice cream 'n' fun 

(A Part 2 Joseph x fem reader fanfiction) 

[Saucy and Spicy edition]

You just came off the phone to your boyfriend, the one, the only, Joseph Joestar. He had suggested a fun trip to the beach before his big trip to New York in the new few months. With a smile on your face you gather a beach bag, inside, your strawberry bikini, a large green beach towel and a few bottles of water. You were set. 

Joseph waited by the telephone box by the small seaside cafe. He wore his rainbow fluorescent shorts, a light blue Haiwian shirt exposing his well toned chest and abs but the creme de la creme was his dark blue sunglasses. He leaned against it, he pulled down his sunglasses and he smirked seeing you show up in a cute light yellow summer dress. 

"Heh, took you long enough, sweetheart. You look great Rachel." Joseph winked at you. 

"Cheeky... " You whacked him with your bag "I'll get you back for that mister!"

"Oww, oww, oww, okay, but I'm going to hold you to it." Joseph rubbed his arm better. 

You both walked along the path leading to the pier. There were a few gift shops and a sweet shop. Joseph raised his eyebrow and pulled you to the railings by the side of the shop overlooking the beach.

"Hey sweetheart, come check this out." Joseph smirked as he pulled you in for a side squeeze. 

"Hey! Be careful I'm going to...." You fell right into his arms. 

With a tiny smirk he accidently gave your chest a small squeeze.

"Honk.." Joseph smirked but his eyes widened seeing you slightly pout "Nigerundayo!" 

He ran down the pier walkway with you chasing after him. 

"Joseph Joestar, get your butt back here!" You giggled after him. 

You both ran back around to the gift shop entrance and Joseph looked over the railing to the beach.

"Oh man, look it's so busy I doubt we are going to have a space..." You walked up behind him and pouted. 

"Oh leave that to me sweetheart. Tell you what, go and grab us some fish and chips and I'll meet you on the beach in ten. Get a good spot for me and I might bring back a treat~" Joseph winked and went into the shop. 

You shrugged your shoulders and made your way to the takeaway shack. After requiring food, you found a spot near the changing room huts.You quickly slipped into one and put your bikini on under your summer dress, show time you thought.  You exited the changing room hut. The weather was pleasant and the breeze felt good, you placed the carrier bag with the fish and chips by your side and laid down a large bright green beach towel. You smiled and sat down and enjoyed the warm weather. You peeled off your summer dress to enjoy the heat more, revealing your strawberry bikini.  

"Oh my god what is that?!" A man screamed from the water 

"HOLY SHIT! IT'S A SHARK RUN FOR IT HONEY!" The woman next to him grabbed his arm and they ran off the beach. 

A few minutes later you saw a shark fin swimming around in the water. You looked around wondering where Joseph was. You began to worry as everyone all around you ran off the beach. The beach was finally empty.

"Heh, heh, my plan worked." Joseph smirked as he emerged from the water with a poorly made shark fin using a children's surfboard.  "Hey Rachel surprised to see me?"

"JOJO! You scared me! I hope the treat you brought was worth me nearly turning into a ghost." You pouted and ran up to him and playfully smacked his chest. 

"Hey hey, don't worry what I have in store is definitely worth it. Oh well, would you look at that, it's just the two of us." He smirked "You know we could do ANYTHING and no one will be here to stop us. Perhaps..." He whispered in your ear. "I can have some fun with that nice chest of yours or perhaps you can sit down on the best seat on the whole beach. Heh, spoilers, it's of course my well toned thighs. Ah but first we should eat, afterall we can't get into anything too adventurous on an empty stomach." 

You blush and open the bag and you both sit down to eat your fish and chips.  Joseph tucked into his food, he turned and smiled at you. He stabs a chip with his fork and dipped it in tomato sauce and licked the sauce clean off the chip, you giggle but you blush slightly. 

"Oh? Are we thinking about something naughty are we? Heh, the whole time I thought it was your heh, dare I say more..." Joseph ate his chip and smirked 

"You... ah JoJo what if someone hears us!" You try and hush him. 

"Heh, remember sweetheart,  I cleared the beach. Noone is around now. It's just the both of us. Well, that sure hit the spot but I am craving something sweet too. Be right back." Joseph leaned and kissed your cheek and went off to the ice cream van nearby. 

You sat on the beach towel and enjoyed the empty and quiet beach, your mind raced with what you and JoJo could do at that moment. 

"Hey I'm back.... Ooooops~" Joseph tripped over on purpose

The icecream landed on your chest. You were surprised by the sudden cold sensation but you let out a tiny gasp. Joseph smirked and licked his lips. 

"I guess, I better clean that up then shall I?"Joseph smirked and leaned closer 

[SAUCY N SPICY WARNING]

"Oh my Rachel, you got so messy." Joseph slowly untied the top half of your bikini "Good thing I'm in the mood for something sweet." 

He gently mouthed your nipples and licked up the ice cream that had spilled all over them. He smirked after they were clean and started to fondle one of them as he picked up the other ice cream cone. He smirked and dropped it on his own crotch 

"OH WHOOPS!" He acted surprised "You better clean that up for me sweetheart!" 

You moaned at his tongue circling around your nipple once again and you nodded. He laid down and you slowly removed his swimming shorts, your eyes shined with excitement seeing he was already very excited for you. Joseph sat up and encouraged you to go on all fours. 

"Oh, won't you please help with clean up? I would appreciate it a lot Rachel~" Joseph winked at you while he cupped your breasts. 

His fingers felt like tiny sparks. Each movement felt amazing, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and held his length gently in your hand. Slowly you pumped him in your hand and licked his tip. 

"Ahh, ahh, that's it please don't stop.... Actually sweetheart climb on top. I want you to feel good too." Joseph softly moaned for you. 

You nodded and gently placed your knees either side of his shoulders, his eyes sparkled seeing your cute bikini bottom. He hooked his finger to the side of your bottom half of your swimming suit and slid them apart, exposing your most intimate parts for him to marvel at. He couldn't wait any longer. He held your hips and darted his tongue inside you and wiggled it all around. 

You softly moaned and sucked on him deeper. You moaned into him which in turn made him moan into you, the sounds of you both moaning drowned out the sounds of the crashing waves down a ways from you both. 

Joseph pulled away and licked his lips "I'm sorry I can't wait anymore. Come and sit right here. Best seat on the whole beach."  

You lick up the side of his length as you climbed off him. He smirked and sat up and pointed to his lap. You smiled and sat on his lap and kissed him gently, he grinned and pulled your butt upwards and gently placed you on the tip of his length. You softly cry out in pleasure, he smirked and used his grip on your hips and his thick thighs to bop you up and down. He grinned as he went faster and faster you wrapped your arms around his neck and nestled your head into his chest. You felt so much pleasure but you felt dizzy being trapped in Joseph's bouncing pleasures. 

"Ah, ah, JoJo I'm going crazy I feel dizzy." You cried out to him in a daze. 

"Ah, ah, that's go crazy for me sweetheart, ah here it comes." Joseph picked up his pace as he was near to climax. 

"Don't hold back JoJo, give me all you got." You moaned loudly. 

"whooooaaaa... mmmm... " Joseph held you tightly as his wave of pleasure exploded within. 

You both collapsed on the beach towel and you snuggled into his side. 

"Hmm, we should do this more often, don't you think sweetheart?" Joseph cupped your chin and kissed your forehead. 

"Oh yes, that sounds like fun." You smiled back and cuddled into him. 

After getting the strength to move again you both got back into your swimwear and enjoy the waves crashing on the shore, you both enjoy your bottle of water. 

"AHEM!" A deep voice ruined the mood.

You both turned around and Speedwagon was there, arms folded stood next to a police officer.

"JoJo what are you playing at? You scared the whole town with your prank. You've gone too far this time!" Speedwagon tapped his foot and glared at him. 

"Just be glad I know your Uncle Speedwagon, Jojo,  or you would be in even more trouble, come along now. My lady." The police officer nodded to you and pulled up Joseph's arm.

"But I just wanted a nice beach day with my sweetheart" Joseph pouted. 

You giggled as he was escorted away.

"NO! Uncle Speedwagon don't tell Granny!" Joseph wriggled out his grip as they went to the car. 

"Tell me what JoJo?!" she sighed and saw Speedwagon and stepped out of the car. "Hm, up to no good again I see." 

"OH SHIT! Nigerundayo!" Joseph's eyes expanded as he saw her reach for her umbrella. 

He ran along the beach with the three of them chasing him you giggled. What a perfect day indeed. 

THE END. 

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

Foto: Panorama Helsinki / Finland - Dom und Parlamentsplatz (by tap5a)

“We only do this for Fergus!” is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and my contribution to the Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will probably not be approved... unless he is married and/or in a committed relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this story) @outlanderpromptexchange​

Chapter 1: Life offers you many surprises

Berlin, Französische Straße Friday, 25 July 2025, 8.50 a.m.

         Five minutes earlier, Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp had entered the large, light gray house, built in the neo-Renaissance style that dominated the whole Forum Fridericianum. In the lobby, which was dominated by marble and dark wood, Claire was greeted by a receptionist. She was asked to sit down for a moment in one of the dark leather armchairs, of which four were grouped around an elegant round table. As she waited, her eyes wandered up the high walls of the entrance hall. A few steps of a staircase led out of the hall through a large glass door that ended in a round arch at the top, reminiscent of a gate entrance. Above it was a large ornament of dark stones inlaid in the light marble. The ornament showed a circle, which, as it seemed, was formed from a belt. The words "Je suis prest" could be read in the curve of the circle and in the center of the ornament was the head of a stately stag, which looked directly at the observer.

“Französische Straße Berlin” by Jörg Zägel / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)

         Claire knew that the French motto meant "I am ready!", but just as she was wondering what the sign meant, an older lady approached her. She introduced herself as Mrs. Fitz-Gibbons. This employee, whose blue costume gave the impression of a uniform, led Claire down various small staircases and long corridors to the room where she was now sitting. Wherever they had gone in this house, it had been extremely quiet. The heavy, dark red carpets that covered all the stairs and hallways, had swallowed every sound of their footsteps. Now she sat in a room whose furnishings were characterized by dark wood and light brass and whose dimensions were more like those of a hall. But it was the antechamber of the CEO’s office of "Fraser & Son International" and behind the large double-winged door that Claire was now looking at was the study of Dr. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, one of the country's leading business owners.         Until two weeks ago, Claire did not know the man's name or that of his company. She didn't care about the gossip press, which also reported on the local "high society" in Berlin. But then Geillis Duncan, her best friend, came by one evening and showed her a job ad from the "Wirtschaftswoche" newspaper. At first Claire was completely surprised. How did Geillis, who loved to read the gossip press, come to show her an ad from Germany's leading weekly magazine for managers?

         "Dave left it on the kitchen table, and since I didn't have anything else at hand, I looked into it while having breakfast. But now take a look at this job ad!"

Geillis had emphatically pointed to an ad that featured the same ornament as the one she had seen in the lobby.          Claire had started reading. A pedagogically trained caregiver was needed for an almost seven-year-old child. The woman should speak fluent German, English and French. Further foreign language skills were welcome but not required. Furthermore, an extensive general education and an impeccable curriculum vitae (i.e. no entries in the Federal Central Crime Register) were expected. Special emphasis was placed on the knowledge and practice of the literature written by Adolph Freiherr Knigge. Three times the current monthly salary was offered, 30 days paid vacation, free board and lodging, private health insurance 1st class.

         "Just imagine Claire!" the girlfriend had exclaimed enthusiastically, "If you got this job and worked there for a few years, all your problems would be solved!”

         Geillis was right, well, almost. Surely not all her problems would be solved. But the financial problems she had to deal with could at least be significantly reduced by this job. She had to acknowledge that and so Claire, Geillis and her friend Dave met that very evening to write a letter of application. Dave, who worked for a large media company at Potsdamer Platz, immediately agreed to help her with his knowledge. The next day, Claire had sent off the application. Then she had bought an updated edition of "The Knigge" and started reading it. Shortly after, Geillis came and brought her a large pile of current newspaper clippings so Claire could learn all she needed to know about the person of James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser and the family business he ran.

         She learned a lot about the company from various business magazines, but the person of James Fraser seemed almost like a phantom. It seemed to her that this man also didn't care about the so-called "high society" and obviously he didn't deliver any headlines to the gossip press. There was neither an article about him nor a photo of him on the company's homepage. Even a Wikipedia article with his name only gave the basic data (birthday, place of birth, family, studies) and otherwise dealt more with the globally active company. "Fraser & Son International" was one of the few family-owned companies that to this day had no shareholders and, having invested in a wide range of economic sectors, not only survived the financial crisis of 2008 well, but had even emerged from it stronger. In this Wikipedia article, however, there was a photo by James Fraser. It showed him with a group of business leaders at a national conference. However, this picture was over eight years old and also very pixelated. At some point everything turned in Claire's head and she hoped that she had not learned all this information for nothing. If she would at least be invited for a job interview.          Ten days later, she hadn't dared to hope that she would ever hear of Fraser & Son International, and to her surprise, her smartphone rang just before the lunch break began. A Dr. Ned Gowan called on behalf of the company, explained that he was the lawyer for "Fraser & Son International" and asked if she could come for an interview at the company's headquarters two days later at 9:00 am. She told him that she had to ask her department head to give her time off first and would call back. As the summer vacation period was over, it was no problem to get a day off and so she called Dr Gowan fifteen minutes later and agreed to meet him (and Dr. Fraser!) two days later. Claire had to be extremely restrained not to cheer out loud. This would have immediately drawn the attention of her colleagues in the department, and she definitely did not want to tell them about it. During lunch break, she left the clinic and sat down on a bench in a nearby park. From there she called Geillis and told her the good news. Right after the end of her shift, the friends met in the parking lot of the clinic to go into town together and pick out a suitable "outfit" for Claire's job interview. Geillis, who had worked as a freelance fashion consultant for many years before she met "the rich Dave", dragged her friend directly to the fashion department of the KaDeWe. There, after a while, they found a muted dark green business costume that emphasized Claire's figure but still looked respectable.

“Kaufhaus des Westens (KaDeWe) - Foto by Avi1111 dr. avishai teicher / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)

         "That's perfect," exclaimed Geillis as Claire stepped out of the dressing room.          "Yes, perfectly too expensive for me. Have you seen the price?"          "Don't worry about that," Geillis replied. Then she whispered:          "I'll pay for it. If the job doesn't work out, we'll just give it back afterwards. And if you get the job and want to keep it, you'll give me the money back when you get your first salary.”

         They bought the costume and also a matching blouse and shoes. Claire was not allowed to think about the amount of money they had spent within a few hours or she would get sick.          But that was all forgotten at that moment. Now it was time to concentrate and make a good impression.          Mrs. Fitz-Gibbons had led her into this room and instructed her to use one of the twelve large brown leather armchairs. With the words          "You will be called in when it is your turn,"          she had said goodbye.          Claire had taken a seat and scanned the room as inconspicuously as possible. Seven other women sat in leather armchairs of the same type, which were set up on three side walls of the room, each separated by a small table. On the tables were glasses and bottles of mineral water, but none of the other women had made use of them. Claire had not intended to drink anything either. She was far too excited to drink, and she was afraid that she might have to go to the bathroom in the middle of her upcoming job interview. Slowly, her gaze wandered across the light-colored carpet to that large, two-winged mahogany wooden door. On each of the wings was a coat of arms, divided into four sections. On the upper left and the lower right quarter were three white flowers on a blue background. The upper right and the lower left quarter each showed three red, pointed crowns on a white background. Behind this door, Claire assumed, must be the director's room. What would she expect there? She did not know. Why had she only gotten involved in this thing that Geilis Duncan had suggested to her? Out of desperation? She wasn't sure. Only one thing was sure: she had never thought that she would have to have another job interview at the age of almost 30. But that was her life. Much of what had happened in her life had not been planned, nor had she ever expected her life to be like that.          Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp, almost divorced Randall, had lost her parents in a car accident when she was five years old. For the next fifteen years she was raised in the loving care of her uncle 'Lamb'. Dr. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, an archaeologist and Egyptologist whose research focus was on the Old Kingdom of Egypt and who was highly revered by his students, came to Berlin in 2015, where he taught at Humboldt University in the last years before his retirement. There Claire had also met her future husband, Dr. Frank Randall. He had been assigned to her uncle as a research assistant. Randall had courted her like no man before and they had already married in May 2016. The first four years of their marriage had gone in a way that Claire would still describe as happy today. Although, she was no longer quite so sure. What did happiness actually mean? Was there a definition for this term? And even if there was a definition for the term "happiness", was it really valid for all people? In any case, the first four years of her marriage had not been very negative. Together they had made regular trips to Paris, Madrid, Prague, Budapest, Dubrovnik, Palermo, Venice, Turin, Marseille, Amsterdam, Florence, Milan, Barcelona and Bruges.

“Palermo/Sizilien” by  nataliaaggiato 

         Claire enjoyed getting to know these cities and experiencing their cultural particularities. When Lambert Beauchamp died unexpectedly in February 2019 as a result of a stroke, Frank had been kind and, in her opinion, very sensitive to her needs. But in the spring of 2020, a strange development had set in with him. At first Claire had blamed it on the effects of the corona pandemic. After the start of the lockdown, Frank was mainly at home, giving lectures via Zoom and otherwise writing a new book on the history of the Scottish Jacobite uprising in 1745. Claire, on the other hand, was working as a nurse in the children's clinic of Berlin's Charité hospital, as she had been before the crisis. Frank had insisted that Claire should give up her job. The possibility that she could become infected with the virus seemed too high to him. But Claire could not bring it over her heart to leave her fellow nurses alone, especially in such a severe time, and thanks to the strictly observed precautions she got through this difficult time without any problems. While she could be happy about the successes in her profession, the problems in her marriage with Frank seemed to become bigger and bigger. At some point, she felt that Frank was becoming more and more monosyllabic and that they were drifting apart rapidly. But evem then she thought this was a temporary phase that would end after the pandemic at the latest. At least she hoped so. When a vaccine against the virus was finally found in July 2021 and became available in December 2021, Claire breathed a sigh of relief. She and Frank would get vaccinated and then they could travel again. This would change Frank's mind and make her marriage blossom again. But it all turned out differently. Once they were vaccinated, Frank suddenly didn't feel like traveling anymore. Again and again he put off his work. Regularly he worked until late at night at the university and sometimes he spent whole nights there. It was always about important analyses, which he published in specialist publications and for which there were tight deadlines. Even on evenings when Claire was off, he was rarely at home, and whenever she tried to initiate a little marital tenderness, he was too tired for that. In the spring of 2022, they had slept together for the last time. A few months later, Frank had stopped kissing her goodbye, as he usually did when he left the house.          What happened then had the potential to throw her completely off track. By the fall of 2022, a hunch that Claire had suppressed again and again had been confirmed. Frank had a mistress. When she returned from her work at the children's hospital one evening in October, she saw Frank saying goodbye to a slender blonde at the door of their shared house, kissing her intensely. She stood there frozen. Everything inside her urged her to turn around and run away. But then the anger that built up within her gained the upper hand. Like a burning ray that shot out of her stomach through her whole body, he took a breath. She ran to the front door, unlocked it and found Frank standing at the sink in the kitchen, where he was just rinsing out two wine glasses. He turned to her in surprise, but before he could say a word, Claire's purse hit him in the left half of his face with full force. Frank had lost his balance and had fallen over. His glasses had come off his head and had broken when he hit the kitchen floor. Claire no longer knew what insults she had used to call him. Frank had picked himself up and collected the parts of his glasses. He had not even set out to explain the situation or apologize.Claire would not have listened to him either. She had turned on her foot and had run into the shared bedroom. When she arrived there, she had taken Frank's bed linen, run back downstairs with it and threw it all into his study. Then she ran back into the bedroom again and locked herself inside. She did not know how long she had cried angrily. But before she had fallen asleep, she had made a plan. The next morning she went on the morning shift. During a break she called a lawyer and that same afternoon she went to see her to discuss the formalities of a divorce.

“Brille” by  jottbe

         Frank had had the injuries Claire had inflicted on him treated, but had not reported them to the police. It was only later that he let it show that he had orchestrated the whole situation. He had simply been too cowardly to have a conversation with her about a divorce, as two adults normally do. He probably wanted to make her feel guilty, too. Claire was convinced of that, at least. Frank had always been against her going back to work. When she accepted the job at the children's hospital a year after their wedding, he had expressed himself very negatively about it. What kind of impression would it leave on his colleagues if the wife of a prospective professor went to work? And in the last year of their marriage he had not missed any opportunity to tell her how much he felt neglected.            It took three months before Claire was able to move into a small room in one of the Charité nurses' homes. During these three months she did everything she could to avoid Frank as much as possible. Anything she couldn't take with her to the nurses' home, she stored in her friend Geillis Duncan's basement. Claire hoped that the divorce would be finalized in October 2023 after the obligatory year of separation and that she could finally start a new life. But this time, too, everything turned out differently than she had hoped.          It was a rainy autumn day in September 2023 and it was to be the last day in the life of Dr. Frank Randall. On a country road near Lübeck, where he had attended a conference for historians, Frank's car skidded for some unknown reason. The car broke through the barrier and then came to a halt in a field. There it was discovered the next morning by a farmer. When the police arrived at the scene of the accident, Dr. Frank Randall was strapped in the seat belt and sat in the driver's seat as if nothing had happened. He was uninjured and even still wearing his hat. But Frank Randall was dead. An autopsy performed later revealed that Frank had had a heart attack that caused him to lose control of the car, causing it to veer off the road. It was, as the police later said, very lucky that no other car had been hit. Claire was shaken.

“Lübeck”  by scholty1970 

         But an even greater shock struck her on the day of the reading of the will. On that day, the notary told her that she would not inherit any money, only debts from Frank. Her still-husband had bought a condominium for his mistress for 250,000 euros, which he had signed over to her. For this gift Frank had gone into debt and Claire, who was still married to him by law, inherited his debts. It was one big nightmare. Although Claire had also inherited the rights to Frank's books, these reference books sold only in very manageable numbers and brought in little money. With her salary as a pediatric nurse, it would take her decades to pay off Frank's debts. Meanwhile, Sandy Travers, this  bleached ...., was sitting in her apartment, probably enjoying herself with her next lover. Once again the anger about Frank rose in Claire's heart, but before she could think about him any further, a familiar voice tore her from these thoughts. 

[rhetoricandlogic]

By: Catherynne M. Valente

Art by: Thais Leiros

Issue: 7 September 2020

9199 words                                                                                   

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Variations in Luminance

Big Edie was a useless piece of shit.

Johanna Telle found the most significant relationship of her life on a Saturday afternoon in late May, sitting on one of those excruciatingly handmade quilts crafty stay-at-homes used to make out of their precious baby’s old clothes and putting a deep, damp dent in the buttercup-infested lawn of 11 Buckthorn Drive, Ossining, New York. A four-pointed Arkansas Traveler star radiated out around her, each of the four diamond patches so exquisitely nailing the era of the quilter’s pax materna that Johanna pulled out her Leica and snapped a shot before the homeowners could stop her: The Pretenders, Captain Planet Says No Nukes, Got Milk? and a Hypercolor tee subjected, as so many had been, to the indignity of a commercial dryer until it finally gave up the thermochromic ghost, its worn cotton-poly blend permanently stuck on a sad blown-out pink.

And Big Edie in the middle, ugly as all the sins of man, with a box of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: Second Edition modules on the eastern point of the compass, a mint condition Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Sewer Lair Playset to the west, a working laserdisc player up north, and down south, one beefy hardcase Samsonite in Executive Silver with a handwritten sign on it promising a complete set of signed first edition Danielle Steel hardbacks inside. A steal at $300, suitcase included.

Still life with late 80's/early 90's. Johanna loved it.

But she only had eyes for Big Edie. The absolute and utter trashbeast technological abortion winking up cheekily at her from within a nest of vanished childhoods.

She’d driven all the way out into the golden calcified time-bubble of the Hudson Valley after the ephemeral promises of an estate sale. The people here had so much money they never had to grow or change or evolve past the approximate epoch of their children’s most precocious years. That’s how Johanna had gotten a Hasselblad for $90 and a fake phone number a couple of years ago at a fuck-Gam-Gam-just-get-rid-of-this-junk free-for-all in Stonybrook. You just crossed your eyes and hoped the kids were the type to tell everyone who never asked that social media was a disease and didn’t sully themselves with Google or eBay.

This was clearly the case on that late-May Ossining afternoon. The card balanced against Big Edie’s case read:

Does Not Work. $50 OBO.

Johanna Telle smiled in the perfect post-processed sun. The EDC-55 ED-Beta Camcorder retailed for a cool $7700 in 1987. Just over sixteen grand in 2015 funbucks. It could produce over 550 lines of resolution in an age where high definition was barely even a phrase. Automatic iris control, dual 2-3 inch precision CCD imaging, Fujinon f1.7 range macro zoom, on-the-fly audio/video editing, capable of recording in hi-fi stereo and most impressively for its time, native video playback. Angular black and matte silver bug-ugly design. The last glorious 13.5-kilogram gasp of the Betamax world, still in its hardcase shell, that particular shade of tan that meant Serious Business for the Terminally 80's Man.

In digital terms, Big Edie was prehistoric. Big Edie was fucking Cretaceous. If there was a camera set up on a tripod to record what happened when the primordial soup stopped being polite and started getting real, Big Edie would have been a top-tier choice for the discerning prosumer.

Big Edie was archaeology.

Johanna whipped her faded seafoam-green hair to one side and hefted that machine corpse onto her dark brown shoulder. She was comically heavy. The weight of a dead world, its concerns long quieted.

Johanna Telle, when she was paying attention, when she was happy, in those moments when she was most definitively Johanna, saw down to the deeps of things. It was all she was really good at, in her estimation. She saw that world, le regime ancien, projected onto the back of her skull like a drive-in theater screen.

When she was little, she’d sat criss-cross applesauce in her mother’s lap in a kind of mute blue nirvana, watching a crew send an unmanned submersible in a metal cage down the icy miles to find the HMS Titanic. Before her father left them, before they lost the house, before the hundred little fatal cuts of getting from one end of childhood to the other. Long beams of light broke the black water of forgetting and scattered across that ghostly bow and found what had been lost. Impossibly lost. Forever. Johanna had barely been able to breathe. She knew herself then, in that terrifying way you know things when you are small. The warmth of her mother’s chest rose and fell behind her, an entire universe of protection and presence. A gentle little prick of the aquamarine pendant she always wore against Johanna’s scalp. The familiar smell of Pink Window, her mother’s signature Red Door knockoff, pulsing off her clavicle. The tinny voice of a rich man floating out of the blue ocean. Later, when the neighborhood kids played games on their unforgivably Spielbergian suburban streets, hollering I’m the Incredible Hulk or I’m the Pink Ranger or I’m Tenderheart Bear, Johanna would call out something nominally culturally appropriate but whisper the truth to herself, which never changed, no matter the game or the streets: I am the exterior lighting array on Robert Ballard’s Argo ROV unit.

Johanna put her eye to Big Edie’s viewfinder. The black cup pocked gently against her cheekbone. Such a nice feeling. Like holding a girl’s hand for the first time. She stared into inert darkness.

“It only takes these weird old tapes,” someone said from outside Edie’s warm lightless innards. A friendly, well-hydrated, nicely-brought-up male voice, full of solicitude, exhausted, heartbroken, hanging in there, like the orange kitten in the old poster.

Johanna didn’t look up. She amused herself picturing the kitten putting its paws on its hips and whistling regretfully through its sharp teeth at the $50 OBO paperweight before them. She suppressed her not-very-inner snob. Yes, dear, ED Super Beta II and III series cassettes. You can still get them, anywhere between $35 and $50 a pop. You can still get anything if you don’t care what it costs.

“There’s one stuck in there. Made a nasty sound when I tried to lever it out. I don’t have any others, though. Dad didn’t stick with this one for very long. I put his digital cameras around by the hydrangeas, way better. You want me to show you?”

“Does it turn on?”

“Nope. Well, not unless it’s a Tuesday and the moon is in Pisces and you’re standing on one foot or some shit. I keep the battery charged up, though. I heard you have to do that or it degrades. I’m Jeff, by the way.”

Of course you are. That’s what they always name soft orange kittens like you.

Johanna’s fingers slid down Big Edie’s flank and found the raised plastic goose-pimple that marked the power button as easily as a practiced accordionist settling onto C Major. She pointed the lens at the bereaved child of its former owner and hit the big red square.

A firehose of light white-watered through the generous 1.5” black and white viewfinder into her cerebral cortex. In the middle of it stood, not the hang in there kitten, but a tall handsome guy in his late twenties or early thirties. Big emotive eyes, tennis shorts, dark polo shirt, with a shimmer of beard-stubble six or seven hours deep, hair the cut and style of debate team and law school and firm handshakes and warm decades ahead in a secure center-right Senate seat.

A shard of glass punched through his chest. Black monochrome blood sheeted down over his shorts and his long, grey, summer-muscled legs. His neck whipped hard to the side, like he’d suddenly seen an old girlfriend and was about to call her name, but when he opened his mouth, a jet of dark liquid spurted onto the quilt of his so-loved childhood clothes. It cut across the white block-print Pretenders in a clean spattered line.

“What’s the verdict?” Jeff asked. That voice like a clean fingernail cut through Johanna’s attention. She yanked her face up off the viewfinder. Jeff’s fine blond eyebrows arched curiously before her in full color, waiting to find out if that old Betamax monster still had juice. If the moon was, in fact, in Pisces. He shoved his hands in the pockets of a paint-splattered pair of jeans.

Johanna glanced back down into Big Edie’s gullet. It was waiting down there, that death-image of silver and ichor.

“I like your shirt,” she said. The walls of her throat stuck together. Inside the camera, that charcoal polo dripped silent-film blood onto his new white tennis shoes. Outside, he wore a slim-cut celery-green tee with Newport Folk Festival 2010 stamped across his chest in a faux-rustic font. She could look back and forth between them. Back and forth. Black and white. Color. Black and white. Grey and green. Green and grey. And wet, dripping jet-onyx blood. All that faded thermochromicity blazing back onto the scene to react with the not live but definitely Memorex heat-death of Jeff from Ossining.

Big Edie went down for the count.

The image guttered out like a pilot light, a sound both grinding and whining shook through her, and she rather ungracefully peaced out.

“$30?”

“All yours,” Jeff grinned.

He took Johanna Telle’s money and strode off across the mown lawn, through the labyrinth of his late father’s obsessions, the sun on his shoulders as though it would never leave him.

Aliasing

It’s much easier to pry a stuck tape out of a machine when you’re not that bothered if you break it. Get a screwdriver and a Sharpie and believe in yourself. It came free with significant but impotent protest, trailing a tangled mess of ropy ED Supra Beta II behind it. Johanna wound the mistreated tape back through the cartridge with the pen the way kids would never do again, and she would have been perfectly content for the rest of her days on this maudlin, over-saturated planet if she could have said the stupid suburban sun got in her eyes and that’s all she really saw.

But Betamax tells no lies.

Johanna sat on the floor of her apartment like the kid from Poltergeist all grown up, heavily medicated, and a cog in the gig economy. A massive daisy chain of converter cables hooked Big Edie up to the living room flatscreen, each one coaxing the signal five or six years forward from 1987 to the slick shiny present day.

The reflected video image washed her face in color. A forgotten pleasure, like the taste of ancient Egyptian beer. You used to always see your shot in black and white when you looked through the viewfinder. You only got to see the colors when you reviewed the footage. Inside the camera was another planet. Color was a side effect of traveling from that world to this one. Step from Kansas into Oz, cross your fingers for fidelity, saturation, hue, hope those shoes still look as red as they did before you crammed them through a lens.

So. No more black and white artsy viewfinder image. Now it was straight outta Kodachrome. But this tape sat in Big Edie’s time-out box for thirty years. Chromatic degradation slipped and popped all over the image, sickly green blooms, hot orange halos, compression artefacts, uncanny edging that rimmed this and that object in weird chemical colors.

Johanna watched a factory-direct 70's mustache-dad with tennis socks up to God’s chin helping his small, yet unmistakably Jeff, son unwrap a record player on Christmas morning. Big Edie came standard automatic fade-in and fade-out, so everything transitioned elegantly, creating a subtle sense of deliberate editing where none truly existed. Fade to black, then a slow melt into a hopeless lacrosse game, small children running nowhere, hitting each other with sticks too big for them to hold properly.

Another bloom of darkness.

A school play, reedy, vulnerable pre-adolescent Jeff dressed as a cloud fringed with silver tinsel rain, twirling and twirling, technique-free, his arms stretched out. Then another and Johanna presumed this was Jeff’s mother, the maker of the T-shirt quilt, 80% Diane Keaton, 20% Shelley Duvall, a white-wine flush on her cheeks, smiling up at the man with the camera in frank, unguarded affection and not a little desire, her shoulders bare above a strapless summer dress the color of the hydrangeas she probably hadn’t even planted yet.

Such wildly un-special moments, clichés of heart-beggaring authenticity, carefully cut out of the flow of time and pasted into the future, selected for immortality for no particular reason, random access memories transfigured into light that cannot die—but can get stuck in a metal cage for want of a Sharpie and a flathead.

Time travel. The only real time travel, unnoticed and uncredited because it was so unbearably slow. In the present, you use this astonishing machine to freeze the past. And you send it to the future. One second per second.

The image cut to black and then it was 2015 and Jeff selling off a lifetime of his father’s lovingly dragon-hoarded objets d’American masculinity. Standing on a lawn with catalogue-ready light and dark green stripes in the grass. Talking not to the man who produced and directed his childhood but to Johanna. She can hear her own voice on the recording.

Does it turn on?

He makes a joke about the moon and tells her his name. Sitting alone in the dark, Johanna realizes he was flirting with her, and she has a second to wonder what his mustached father’s name was before the glass smashes through his sternum again and blood streams down to soak a just out-of-frame blanket stitched together from mass-marketed polyester and lost time.

Johanna ran the tape back. Then she watched it again.

Back. And again.

She was still doing it when the morning broke into her apartment without announcing itself.

Five weeks later, she’ll be down to two or three run-throughs a day. An article will swim across her feed.

Late Night Four-Car Pile Up on I-84 Leaves Two Dead, Seven Injured.

Jeffrey Havemeyer of Westchester County, NY, 34, remains in critical care.

Johanna will feel nothing. She’s seen it a thousand times already.

Overclocking

“Sit there,” Johanna tells her cousin’s daughter, pointing at a cracked leather barstool.

Anika is nineteen, in her second year at Columbia. She is everything Johanna is not: mentally stable, tall, good hair, vegan, grounded by parental encouragement and affection, prone to healthy relationships, able to commit to an exercise regimen. The twenty-first-century girl. Johanna has always found her fascinating. Scientifically. It’s like hanging out with an alien. Your whole ecosystem is based in carbon and abandonment and trash, and you just always assumed those were the essential building blocks of life, but it turns out they’re totally unnecessary and sentient beings can just as well be made out of palladium and love and sensible choices instead, look at this actual good person right here, you have the same nose.

Johanna’s arthritic Great Dane watches them coolly from his massive fluffy bed.

“Your hair looks like a badger,” Anika says.

It’s been some time since Ossining and quilt and the hydrangeas and what Johanna has come to think of as the glitch. Technical difficulties. Runtime error. It’s late summer. Sweat darkens Anika’s hairline under the expected carefully messy topknot. The boroughs are one long incessant screech of twelve million window-mounted air conditioners and the smell of warm garbage bags, round and shiny on every doorstep.

Seafoam green softheart mermaid look out; icicle-white collarbone-length brutalist bob with black tips in.

“I like to think of it as ermine. You know, royal cloaks and all that.”

“Did you know ermines are just regular stoats with their winter coats on?” Anika helpfully informs her. “Not special at all. Fancy weasels. Glam weasels.”

“That’s perfect. I myself am a decidedly unspecial glam weasel.”

Johanna adjusts the tripod under Big Edie. It took Johanna weeks to gut the old girl, order parts, and convince her that modern life truly was worth living. Nothing really wrong with her at all, other than the audio-visual equivalent of osteoporosis and a bad back. Johanna loved the work. Data was invisible now. Stored on sand, transferred on air, transcending physical form. Light talking to light. But not Big Edie. She was very visible. Gross and awkward and tangible. The girl would never be good as new again. But she was good enough.

“No you’re not, you’re amazing,” Anika says softly, and Johanna can hear the little girl she’s known in that grown-up, gonna-save-the-world-with-believing-it-can-be-saved voice.

Johanna ignores this obvious lie.

They’ve already done a few shots with the Hasselblad, the Leica, a couple with her phone. She doesn’t really know why she’s putting on a show. Anika wouldn’t question just sitting in front of an old Betamax camcorder for a few minutes and then heading off for Hungarian pastries and a good full-body-cleanse political rant. But it feels important that today has the appearance of a plausibly professional kind of thing. Not that Johanna is using her.

Which she is.

Johanna doesn’t have access to a lot of people at the moment. They find her offputting. Not user-friendly. An unintuitive interface. Carbon-based.

“Can you let the blinds down halfway?” she asks.

Anika does. Slats of August light and dark slash down her face and torso (like glass slicing through skin) like an old pre-lapsarian end-of-programming test screen. It would be a gorgeous shot even if the shot was the point.

“I mean it. This apartment, your work. Margot. Mapplethorpe.” The Great Dane’s floppy black ears perk up at the sound of his name. “I love it here. You’re living the dream.”

Johanna hesitates with her forefinger over the record button. God, she remembers how much she hated it when people told her college wasn’t the real world and she had no idea what it was like out there, as if studying and working full-time wasn’t more work and less fun than the barren salt flats of adulthood between your twenties and death. But she wanted badly to shovel the same shit for Anika now. The only way you could look at this place and see a dream was through a lens that had never touched reality.

This is fine, she tells herself. The Havemeyer Glitch is not a thing. Just a shill for Big Coincidence. It’s not like he died. And besides, nothing bad can ever happen to Anika. She is a palladium-based life form. So this is fine. It’s for science. You will take beautiful footage of your beautiful niece-once-removed, and buy her a walnut kolachi, and she will tell her mother what a nice time she had.

“Margot moved out last week,” Johanna says without emotion. Margot moved out three months ago. She left a purple brush in the bathroom. Long black hair still tangled up in it. Johanna can’t bring herself to move the last cells of Margot that exist in proximity to Johanna’s cells.

“Oh,” Anika replies gently. “So that’s why you changed your hair.”

Johanna hits record.

For eighty-seven seconds, the only thing Big Edie has to say is that Anika Telle was born for the camera, a portrait of her generation, artlessly artful, a corkscrew of loose dark hair hanging forward to catch the light, one grey bare leg tucked up beneath a billowy sack dress with small elephants printed on it, the other not quite long enough to touch the peeling floor. Her expression genuinely, infinitely, but entirely temporarily sad for the misfortunes of someone else. See? This is fine. Tell her to say something. Recite Shakespeare. Or Seinfeld.

Deep in Big Edie’s viewfinder, Anika’s left eye crumples in a wet gush of pearl and black. Her head rockets back, shrouded in mist. She coughs, gags, tears streaming from her remaining eye. She’s still sitting on the barstool in Johanna’s apartment with silvery botanical wallpaper behind her, the tall window, the August sun, the half-drawn blinds. But the Anika in the camera wears black leggings, a puffy black winter coat, a black surgical mask. White duct tape criss-crosses the back of her jacket to form the words: #NOJUSTICE. She’s older, the lingering baby softness in her jaw gone, her hair a buzzed undercut. The cords on her neck stand out as she runs, her face ruined, blind with pain, stumbling, looking over her shoulder as she bolts on the video feed from one end of the living room to the other. Out of nothing, a cop in riot gear steps out of Johanna’s kitchenette, grabs the back of Anika’s skull in one hand and shoves her down. Anika-in-black falls to her knees, sobbing, puking into her mask, holding one hand to the hole where her eye used to be, screaming silently into Johanna’s (Margot’s) red paisley rug.

Johanna yanks her head up out of the sucking desaturated pit of the camera.

Mapplethorpe snores loudly. Trucks beep in reverse outside the apartment building. Anika sighs softly, bored but not rude. She scratches a mosquito bite on her knee. “I really am sorry. I liked Margot. She was good for you, I think. Got you out of the house.”

All the blood has either rushed to or drained from Johanna’s head. She can’t tell which. All she can hear or feel is her own pulse slamming itself against her eardrums.

“Do you … want me to do something?” Anika asks uncertainly.

Johanna shuts the camera down quickly. The image at the bottom of the viewfinder clicks out of existence. She tries to talk, but there’s no talk to be found. Just the burning hot green-on-red afterimage of a crystal brown eye collapsing in its socket, over and over.

“Come on, Auntie J,” Anika says finally, hopping lightly off the stool and bending down, scratching Mapplethorpe between his spotted shoulder blades. “Dinner’s on me. Malaysian okay? Maps can have a curry puff, can’t you, baby?”

Test Pattern

An experiment that cannot be repeated is evidence of nothing.

Johanna establishes a beachhead in Owl’s Head Park. Back supported by a black walnut tree. Bare toes clenched in a sea of tiny white flowers and clover-infiltrated grass. Big Edie propped against her breastbone, lens stabilized by knees on either side. Mapplethorpe’s yellow lead loops around her ankle, but the big fellow has long passed his days of running off after unsuspecting children. He munches philosophically on a pricey organic broth-basted rawhide shaped like a braided ring.

She finds a target, hits the button, rolls footage for a few minutes, tracking them as they throw frisbees for far-inferior dogs or kick soccer balls or kiss on picnic blankets or drag giant wooden chess pieces across a giant board or just walk aimlessly, whatever Saturday afternoon moves them to do. She doesn’t look through the viewfinder into that hellworld of black and white. Just presses buttons.

Turn it on.

Shut it off.

Find someone new.

Repeat.

She chooses at random. No more Anikas. No one is special, or unspecial. It doesn’t matter who they are or what they look like. They’re just data. That man, that woman, that child, that set of twin babies, those skaters, that guy sleeping with a James Patterson book over his eyes. Compressed data to be converted later.

Johanna’s brain checks out and begins a speed run through the five stages of grief over the death of a reliable reality. Denial: you’re losing it, change up your medication, girl, it’s not real, it’s not anything, just a stupid old camera that you bought because you are stupid, at best it’s old footage coming through on an old tape.

Stop recording. New person. Girl in green skinny jeans with a sketchbook.

Anger: fuck this, fuck you, fuck estate sales, fuck Robert Ballard, fuck the Columbia School of Law, fuck sad elephant print fabric, fuck hydrangeas, fuck curry puffs that make my dog poop out his soul, fuck Betamax you dumb drooling obsolete idiot tech, fuck me, fuck my dad, fuck Jeff Havemeyer’s dad, fuck I-84, fuck Margot, fuck the linear flow of time, fuck everything, life is garbage and this is proof. Why is this happening to me?

Stop. Scan. Record. Lanky white-dude dreds fuckboy in a vest but no shirt.

Depression: Of course it’s happening to me, because I am garbage and this is proof, and whatever cosmic hazmat disposal dump site got its back end trapped in my camera would only open the gates to a warped maladjust like me.

Stop. Scan. Record. Old man on the bench with god-tier eyebrows and a yellow plastic sunflower in his lapel.

Bargaining: I’ll just watch this back tonight and whatever happens, afterward I’ll tip Big Edie in the bin and never tell anyone. And then I will straighten up and clean my apartment and go on Tinder and eat leafy greens five times a day and see Anika more often and make amends and buy an exercise bike. Okay, Elder AV Club Gods? Deal?

Stop. Scan. Record. Kid on a dirt bike with (elephants) puffins on her dress.

Acceptance.

Acceptance.

Acceptance is Johanna sitting cross-legged (criss-cross applesauce) on Mapplethorpe’s bed while he snoozes jowlfully on the couch. She braces herself for red slicks of gore and bone. For Jeff and Anika redux. Once is luck, two is coincidence, three is a pattern … or at least time to wake up and smell what your inevitable descent into psychosis is cooking.

But that’s not what Big Edie has for her.

Not entirely, anyway.

Entropic Coding

Gloppy August sunlight washes out the image. Everything is overexposed, too bright, unforgiving. His thin chest rises and falls with his breath. He watches a small blue and white bird hop nervously down the iron rail of his park bench. A cerulean warbler, Johanna notes with supreme irrelevance. Closer to him, then further away, then close again. He crumbles a crust of brown bread on his tweedy knee and waits knowingly. This goes on long enough that Johanna starts to relax. It isn’t going to happen again. The bird will give in, and eat, and Johanna’s life will resume the program already in progress.

Then the sunlight cools, then it darkens, then it is a dim nothing-watt lamp with a tacky early 60's cherry pattern on the shade. The branches of black oak and Dutch elm in Owl’s Head Park still reach into the frame like kids who’ve spotted a news crew, showing off in the background, dying to get on TV. But the bench and the octogenarian perched on it have become a mustard-colored corduroy sofa and a young man with his head in his hands. Vaguely Scandinavian mid-century wooden end tables bookend the couch. A clock with thin brass spikes radiating out around it ticks over a clearly decorative fireplace. Above the man hangs a proto-Bob Ross painting of standard-issue lake/pines/mountain/lonely boat in a dizzying array of shades from brown to brown. Children’s toys cover the floor. At least one boy and one girl. Maybe more. Wooden blocks, a rocking horse with yellow yarn hair, green plastic army men. Donald Duck and Bugs Bunny and Snoopy staring lifelessly at the ceiling in a triple rictus of frozen grimaces. A book of Connie Francis paper dolls with most of the smiling valium-glazed Connies already carefully cut out hiding under the formica coffee table. A Funflowers Vac-U-Form Maker-Pak Johanna recognizes from a box of crap her grandmother let her play with the year they had to live with her because, no matter how she tried to pretend it was an adventure, her mother had no options left. You squeezed out perfumed lucite goo into molds and made “Daffy Dills” and “Tuffy Tulips” that looked like crystals in the sun until you got bored and broke a vase just to get some attention. A Spirograph and stacks of spiralled paper, scattered across the avocado shag carpet like ticker tape after the parade has gone. Like mystic offerings before the massive, inert cabinet television that probably weighs more than everyone who lives here put together. The kinds of toys you lift off a flea market shelf with joy and reverence, despite the peeling paint and chipped edges and missing vital organs.

But these are all new.

A wind moves through Owl’s Head Park and dappled shadows in the jaundiced light of the living room move across the man, the sofa, the table, the TV, the toys, the cherry lampshade.

The man on the yellow sofa looks up.

He is so young. Perhaps thirty-five, perhaps not even that. His incredible, architectural eyebrows are dark brown now; he has all his hair. He’s still wearing a suit, but this one has wide lapels, no tie, a plaid pattern that will crown endcaps in Goodwill until the sun burns out. He looks exhausted. Someone’s been smoking all night and it was probably him. maybe not just him. Butts overflow a pink pearlescent ashtray under the cherry lamp. About a third have frosted coral lipstick prints glowing on their filters, each one fainter than the last.

Johanna braces herself for the shard of glass or the ruination of his eye or gunshot or gas leak, whatever is about to break this poor soul in half. Her heart rate spins up into the rhythm of a jet propeller carrying her into nothing and nowhere. Her stomach muscles clench for impact.

But: the man gets up. Wipes his palms on his wrinkled pants. Walks across the room. Stops. Bends down to pull one perfect yellow Vac-U-Form Funflower out of the pile of misshapen attempts. Slides it into his lapel. The man leaves the house. He closes the door behind him so gently it doesn’t even click. No sound at all until his car engine starts outside, and then that’s gone too.

In the margins of the image, the cerulean warbler flies off with a cry. The shadow of his little body flickers over the empty room.

Fade out.

Fade in on the girl in the green skinny jeans and peasant blouse lying with her sketchbook under the willow tree.

Johanna makes it five people and ten minutes sixteen seconds deep by the overlarge alarm-clock-style timestamp before she scrambles off the dog bed and shuts the whole rig off.

An hour later, she gets out of bed and pads back to the living room on tiptoe, as if afraid to wake Margot’s brush. Blue light washes her cheeks and her hands and her walls and Johanna doesn’t move until it’s over.

Then she hits rewind and starts over from the beginning.

Image Burn

Mapplethorpe makes it another year before turning his creaky back on that big dog life. Since Johanna got to keep him through the quiet post-apocalypse of their union, they agreed Margot could have his ashes.

She looks the same. Just the same. As if Margot stepped out of the day she left and into today with no interruption in continuity. Johanna knows that dress, the navy blue vintagey thing with white piping and a little too much room in the torso, but that she refused to take in or give up on, because at thirty-seven, she might still have some growing left in her.

“Your hair,” Margot says softly. She steps gingerly over the map of cables and playback devices that have replaced living breathing life for Johanna and sits uncomfortably in the old bisque-colored armchair (falls asleep re-reading Harry Potter in it during a snowstorm five years ago; Johanna drapes a crocheted blanket over her and squeezes the bare foot hanging over the overstuffed arm gently, fondly). She sits as though she is trying to hover, as thought it might burn her to stay.

“What about my hair?”

“It’s … shocking.”

“It’s my hair.”

“I assumed you would have gone puce or checkerboard by now. Your actual hair hasn’t seen the light of day since high school as far as I know.”

Johanna only dimly recalls that she used to care about things like wilding her hair. It seems like a fact about a stranger. Like something she would see on Big Edie and use to pinpoint a date.

They make small talk. Margot is leaving the city soon. She’s bought a house in Providence with her wife, two blows Johanna absorbs expressionlessly as a cascade of words concerning Victorian architectural flourishes and small, private ceremonies patter down around her ears like raindrops. Mrs. Margot was apparently called Juniper, because of course she was, bet you call her June-bug too, gross. She was joining the obstetrics team at Rhode Island Hospital. Margot would teach very well-scrubbed scions of the even-better scrubbed at a private prep academy in the fall. Plant heirloom squash. Adopt three-legged rescue Labradors.

What are Johanna’s plans? If she has a gallery show before September, Margot would love to come. Anyone new in her life? How is Anika?

Well, Marge, I plan to shoot weddings and graduations and bar mitzvahs in which the cakes have significantly more artistic value than my entire self until I die alone pitched face-first into my takeout massaman with no dog and no stomach lining and no friends except a magic camera, can I get you a 40%-off Pinnacle buttered-popcorn-flavor vodka straight up, because that’s where I am right now.

But she doesn’t say that. She would never say that.

Instead, she decides to ruin Margot’s life. And in that moment, she genuinely believes it’ll work.

“Can I show you something?” Johanna says.

“Of course. Always.” Margot brushes her hair out of her eyes, now and a hundred thousand times in that chair, in this light. “New work?” Miss M was always her first audience, first viewer, the only other eye she trusted.

“Sort of. Mostly I just want you to tell me I’m not crazy.” And she doesn’t realize how entirely true that is until it’s out of her mouth and loosed on the dusty air.

Margot frowns. “You don’t look well. I didn’t want to say. Are you still drinking?”

Johanna laughs bitterly as she flips through the input options on the flatscreen. “Why would I not be drinking? Drink is friend.” She shoves delivery detritus off the couch to make a space: receipts, plastic bags, black takeout containers, breath mints and fortune cookies and after-dinner toffees.

And they watch together. Side by side. Just the same. Like it is before. Like she will pick up her purple brush again tonight and run it through her hair and come to bed and tomorrow will be years ago and the film of them will run forward from the splice.

Rather, Margot watches. And Johanna watches Margot.

The colors waver on her face like she’s underwater, staring up at the parade of strangers fading in and out before her.

The old man/young man on the park bench and the mustard-corduroy sofa.

The girl in the green skinny jeans under the willow and sitting at a bistro table with fake electronic candles as a man walks in, says her name uncertainly, kisses her cheek, orders an old-fashioned.

The guy with white-boy dreds and a vest with no shirt steps off a bike path and into a gorgeous apartment in no way decorated by a man who would wear a vest with no shirt even once, all minimalist monochrome, and a woman in pajama pants and jade chip earrings sobbing get out get out not one more minute I’m done get out.

A kid in a Spider-Man hoodie swinging upside down from a jungle gym and lying on his couch, a teenager, playing Madden on XBox, yelling to an invisible mother that he’ll mow the lawn, yeah yeah, just one more game.

And worse. A boy’s face fades into his forties on the subway. He asks why he’s being pulled over. A gash blooms on his beautiful brown neck. A student drinking alone in a bar ages fifteen years and loses twenty pounds between sips of house red. She waits for someone with frantic energy and when somebody shows up, gives her a little wax paper packet, leaves her to it, her fingers start to turn the color of corpses on the wine glass. A volunteer museum docent grows red rings and bags around his eyes but loses his wrinkles. Somewhere between the Ancient Greeks and Mesopotamian pottery, gets out of a Camry, locks it, and runs toward an appointment, wholly unseeing the baby in the backseat, asleep in a puffy lavender knitted hat.

“What is this?” Margot says. “Glitch art? Datamoshing? Like Planes and Jacquemin? What program did you use? It’s really seamless.”

“No program.”

“What do you mean ‘no program’? This is a practical effect?” Johanna chuckles mirthlessly. The screen shimmers. “Where did you find all these actors?”

“No, look, you’re not seeing. You have to look. The calendar in the apartment. The clothes the girl in the bistro is wearing. Do you recognize any of the players in that Madden game?”

“You know I don’t care about sports. I wouldn’t recognize any player’s name five minutes after I heard it.”

“Okay, fine. The song on the radio when the guy gets stuck in traffic.” She pauses it, waits for Margot to catch up, to see the faint cursive 2026-At-A-Glance calendar on the inside of the pantry door in that perfect sleek flat, the unfamiliar controls on the car dash. “I’ve never heard that song. You’ve never heard that song. Because that song doesn’t exist, on any service, in any catalogue, anywhere.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. Come on, you couldn’t possibly know that for certain, Jo.”

But Margot doesn’t see. Margot isn’t Robert Ballard’s submersible lighting array. She doesn’t know how to crawl into an image and live there. What she does glimpse in Johanna’s pleading eyes is the weight of time. Time she has spent searching for these things, for connections, hoping, honestly hoping, to find that song buried on some indie compilation CD with some revoltingly photoshopped jacket art and a discount sticker. And a thousand other objects like it. Books on televisions, limited edition toys, tie-widths, license plates, worse, more scattered, atomized, randomized information that never coalesced into anything but Johanna’s increasing silence and solitude. She vibrates so intensely it looks like she is sitting still.

And so, slowly, knowing how it sounds, hating how it sounds, Johanna explains about Big Edie as more strange moments unfold before the not-really-that-long-lost love of her life; naked bodies, and there are a lot of them, in embraces violent and lovely or both or neither, strangers meeting, over and over, in different clothes, different hairstyles, different seasons, a child abandoned in an airport in Reno, calling for her mother, surrounded by slot machines ringing in cherries and oranges, tears rolling down her face. And at the end of the reel, Jeff and his glass heart, Anika and her shattered eye, the long staircase into images that has become Johanna’s life.

Margot says nothing for some time. It is a terrible, sour nothing that lingers far too long in the air between them.

“So you think your camera shows … what? Death?”

“Maybe. Sometimes. But not always, not even often, really.”

“Then what if not that? The future? Like the calendar.”

“That’s closer, I think. Better. But at least a third of them are the past.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, the man in the living room is 1970. You can tell by the Updike book on top of the TV. That was the first edition cover, and it’s pristine. You can figure it out, sometimes. If you care about these things. If you know too much about garbage. And you know I know too much about garbage, M.”

Margot smiles faintly, but it is very faint.

“But also I went back to the park and talked to the guy. His name is Antony.” Johanna scratches at the back of her hand. “Antony left his family. In 1970. Just up and walked out on Grace, Walt, Irene, and Amelia, who he’d married when she was fucking seventeen. The proverbial running out for a pack of cigarettes. Left them like they were just … a skin he was molting.”

Margot looks for a way to shut it off, but Johanna doesn’t help her find it. Why should Margot get to turn away from it? Why should she escape?

“Fine,” she says coldly. “What is it then?”

Johanna takes a deep breath. “So whenever you transfer or transmit or store data, especially a lot of data, like audio or video or both, it gets compressed, and in the process, you lose a little bit of it. Maybe a lot, like MP3s were always straight garbage compactors for sound. Maybe only a little bit. Maybe so little you wouldn’t even notice. But in order to fit the storage device or the bandwidth, in order to save information or share it, you have to … you have to harm it. And that creates distortion. Halos. Noise. Warping. Busy regions in the image. Blocky deformations called quilting, and visual echoes called ghosts. They’re called compression artefacts, and that’s … that’s what I think these are. Distortions created by the present and everything else getting compressed, crushed into one stream. Halos and noise and warps and quilts and ghosts. A lot of words for damage. Just damage.

“But the answer is: I don’t really know what it does. Technically speaking, it’s a problem of parallax. Catastrophic parallax. A vast difference between the apparent object and the actual object. And for awhile, I thought it showed the worst day of your life. Which, odds are, for some percentage of people, is going to be the day you die. But not for everyone. Not for Antony. See, nothing ever went right for him after he left. Two more divorces and a dried-up retirement fund. Grandkids he isn’t allowed to meet. Lung cancer he picked up working a big gorgeous free man’s HVAC repair shop. But it took him almost his whole life to understand any of it. To process where he fucked up. What he lost when he thought he was barreling down the highway to a big gorgeous free man’s life. Big Edie knew it in an instant. She had his number faster than a speeding therapist, and that number was 1970. So it seemed to make enough sense. When I shot old people, Big Edie usually spat out the past. Young people mostly turned up older on playback. The future. That kid playing Madden. Madden 23, to be exact.” She points to him on the projection. The hole in his sock. The length of his hair. The name on the Patriots’ QB jersey.

“Do you actually expect me to believe your camera recorded something in 2023? Jo, come on. I’m really busy, and frankly, I’m not in the mood.”

“Just listen. Because then there was this. A wedding. Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel and Lucy Vaclavik.” She fast-forwards through scene after scene. Johanna can tell just the sheer number of them is starting to look bad on her, and the manic sizzle in her voice isn’t helping, but she can’t stop herself.

The creams and golds and pops of understated rose-shades of a high-end matrimonial spread flood the screen. The bride waves her lily-dripping bouquet in the air. The Hudson River throbs with sunset behind her. Her hair sparkles with carefully applied glitter. Eyeliner and brows that date her nuptials as surely as a library stamp. Her new husband, in a grey tux, bends down to kiss her expertly neutral-frosted lips and their unified families clap like a gentle river of approval. The picture flows smoothly to the edge of the frame. No ghostly picture-in-picture. No shadows cast from other places, other times.

Margot smiles politely. Johanna knows she is losing her (has lost her). “I don’t get it.”

“I didn’t either,” she confesses softly. “I shot this no differently than the others. But what you see is what I saw. What Big Edie saw. No parallax. No difference in images. I rolled tape and the wedding marched right through the lens and back out again and it was just a wedding, no more or less. Nothing else has been like that. And the next day we got right back to business-as-horrible. I couldn’t figure it out. Why was it special? What was different? The thing is … he killed her. It made the news for about thirty seconds in April. They found her in the woods in Connecticut. But, you know, hedge fund guys aren’t that good at forensics, even if they’re 100% current on all CSI franchises, so they caught him pretty fast. So maybe … maybe Big Edie doesn’t record the worst thing that ever happened to you. Maybe it’s something so much smaller than that. The moment when the worst thing that ever happens to you sees you coming. Turns toward you in the dark. I think, once she married him, he was always going to hurt her. Because that was in him, an egg or a seed or a tumor, whatever you want to call it, a future that no longer has the option of not happening. The flowchart flows until you meet that person at that conference and then there’s no more choose your own adventure, you’re going to fall in love and they’re going to bankrupt you or betray you or just … disappoint you until there’s nothing left but cynicism swirling around at the bottom of your heart like tea leaves. Or leave you in the woods in Connecticut. I don’t know, maybe it’s just a huge ugly regret machine. And mostly I will never understand these. What happened to the Madden kid or the girl in the bar or why getting stuck in traffic on that particular day was so important to that man’s whole trajectory, or any of them, because that stuff doesn’t come across the AP like Mrs. Vaclavik. They’re just moments, unconnected, pulled free of every other moment.”

The wedding fades out and the two women wince together as a man they do not know pushes a woman they have never met against a wall. Blood trickles down her temple where she hit a picture frame and she looks up at him with unbelieving eyes.

“Enough,” Margot says. She grabs the remote. Shuts it all down. Turns to Johanna and touches her face. Touches her. No one has touched Johanna in a year. It is an alien burn. It is Margot. It is the past and the future and death, stroking her hair and making enormous eyes at her while the constituent atoms of their dog look on from the coffee table.

“I miss you so much,” Johanna whispers, and wishes she could have thought of something better, more elegant, more memorable, but her need banishes pretty words.

“Don’t,” Margot answers with finality. The finality of Providence, Rhode Island and heirloom squash varietals and Harrington Preparatory School and June-Bug and poor Mapplethorpe in a box.

“What do you think?” She cannot help that either, the need for her approval, her regard, the perfect full absent moon of her gaze on Johanna’s work, Johanna’s self.

“Honey … I think you need help. This is … this is nothing, J. It’s a bunch of slice of life shots of nothing in particular and three or four gory jump-scares. You taped over some movie of the week with a lot of nonsense. And I’m supposed to believe it’s what, magic? It’s you stalking strangers. Listen to yourself. Catastrophic parallax? You’re manic, you need care.”

But Johanna can’t hear that. “Okay, but that’s just exactly what I mean. Do you know what catastrophe means? It’s Greek. It just means a turn. A turn down or a turn under or a turn inside. A turn away.”

“Jo, this is basically a conspiracy theorist wall and you’re unspooling more red yarn. This is not an X-File. This is you not coping. As usual.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’ll show you. Just stand over there, I’ll shoot you for a few minutes, a few seconds, and you’ll see.” And what will Big Edie see? Margot leaving that hot, humid, unretrievable night, Margot packing up boxes for Providence, Margot right now, right here, telling Johanna she will never believe her? One of them, maybe, surely. What else was even possible?

“No,” Margot whispers firmly. “You don’t need me. And you definitely don’t need to ride that camera any harder. I’m not going to enable this. You just need help, baby. Professional help. That’s all. I have to go.”

“Wait—”

“I have to go.”

There is a disentangling, a hurry to go back, edit, remove even the idea that physical contact was made. Margot excuses herself to splash water on her face and Johanna sees herself in the mute black monitor, sees as the ex-moon of her night sees: a woman so thin her clothes don’t fit, who smells sour, whose hair hangs limp and unwashed, whose face has grown lines it didn’t have even a few weeks ago, degradation lines, juddering through the frame of her face.

Margot emerges awkwardly, chagrined, her familiar elfin face not one cell altered from the day she left, her voice echoing against every surface: I’m so fucking lonely, Jo, I’m lonely even when you’re here. Especially when you’re here. I’m lonely right the fuck now and I’m looking at you.

She holds up something in her hand. Something purple. Something precious.

“Forgot my brush,” she says softly.

And then she is gone.

Ghosts

Johanna puts it off for a long time.

Why bother? What use could it possibly be to her? What use is any of this? You couldn’t do one single thing with it. The shot was too tight to predict the future. Fight crime? Protect the innocent? No. The camera crowded the subject, an unbearable idiot intimacy that took away everything but the seeing itself.

But eventually, she was always going to do it.

Johanna watches herself on the flatscreen. Watches herself get up in Big Edie’s face. Fix the focus, back up to sit on the same barstool that held Anika all those ages ago, shifting awkwardly as she looks into the lens like an actor breaking the fourth wall.

She knows what she will see. She is calmly certain of it. She shouldn’t have bothered running the tape back for this little screening. She saw it the first time, when she was seven. When she was thirsty in the middle of the night and padded quietly out of her room to get a glass of water. Out of her room and past her father sitting alone in his armchair, the moonlight crawling in after him through the window, grasping at him just before he shot himself and her life … turned. There never was any hope for her. She was turned before she got one foot in the world. It wouldn’t be a prettier shot now.

The compression artefact burns out from the center of her nuclear-powered selfie. Her stomach muscles seize up the way they do when she just barely reaches the tipping point of a roller coaster and enters freefall, down the rails into her old house, the rugs, the stain on the ceiling, the off-kilter hang of her bedroom door. Her father’s face. Her mother’s soft snoring from the bedroom.

But that’s not what she sees.

No moonlight. No armchair. No 3 a.m. drink of water in a seven-year-old girl’s hand. It is just Johanna, seafoam green hair and all, walking on the lovely light and dark stripes of green on a lawn in Ossining, in sunlight direct from a photography lab, approaching a quilt made of old T-shirts and the objects it carries. She bends down and presses her warm thumb into the patch of Hypercolor shirt, waiting for the fabric to change color, to unsuffer the damage of too-constant exposure to the very thing that it was designed to react with, which of course it will not, can not, ever again.

Johanna touches her own face on the television, that seafoam green girl who still had Margot and Mapplethorpe and opinons about everything, that familiar face, yet better-fed and better-loved and almost obscenely untroubled. An ancient version of herself, suddenly unearthed at the bottom of the sea.

Finite State Machine

Johanna puts Big Edie up on Craigslist, all her specs laid out like a personal ad: enjoys long walks on the beach, getting lost in the rain, composite video output, and turning everything you point me at into an avant-garde film-school short. If you can’t handle me being haunted, you don’t deserve me being way more work than the camera app on your phone.

She lowballs the price. She means it. She can change her artefact. She can let it all go, like Margot said. Get care. Be normal. Cope. She can take that moment in Ossining and make it nothing. Make it just another random memory on a compilation tape of the decades fading in and out, like the little tinseled cloud boy turning and turning on his forgotten school stage, meaningless, untethered, beautiful and sad and without connection to anything before or after.

And then anyone could. The boy who doesn’t want to mow the lawn. The girl meeting that man at the bistro. Lucy Vaclavik. Antony. Jeff. Anika. Anyone. The long white beam of the Argo’s exterior lighting array sweeping through that dark and missing the great hulking skeleton in the blackness, brushing gently by, just barely, just by inches, finding nothing but open water.

She doesn’t answer a single query.

Six months later, Johanna doesn’t even remember what it’s like to leave the house without Big Edie. The pockets of her original-issue carrying case bulge with new tapes.

[bananaofswifts]

Never be so polite you forget your power,” sings Taylor Swift at one point on evermore, her second surprise album release in less than six months. Shortly afterward, she follows that statement up with “Never wield such power you forget to be polite.” It’s a line Swift has been trying to walk in recent years, both professionally and creatively, and it’s not a bad summary of the glorious new album, which offers bold and striking new sounds while still coming across as a generous pandemic offering to her ride-or-die fans at a time when they may need her more than ever.

Swift also leans even harder into the new kind of storytelling that she explored on folklore, which was released just as suddenly in July to thunderous acclaim, became the biggest-selling album of the year, and is currently in the running for Album of the Year at the Grammy Awards. Reaching back to her country roots in strategy if not in execution, she’s spinning narratives that, for the first time, reach outside of her own experience, sometimes examined from multiple perspectives. As evermore tackles big city disappointments and small-town dreams, crime, and (as always) heartbreak, we witness her songwriting becoming mature, even literary.

Quick tip: Do not play poker with Taylor Swift. She had plenty of chances to tease this new project in recent weeks—from the headfake she delivered when she accepted the American Music Award for Artist of the Year and noted that she was taping her acceptance speech in the studio where she’s currently re-recording her old albums (seeking vengeance for the second sale of those albums’ master recordings) to the lengthy Q&A in Entertainment Weekly that came out earlier this week but made no mention of new music. Yet first thing Thursday morning, she revealed in a post that her ninth studio album would come out less than 18 hours later, two days before her 31st birthday (“Ever since I was 13, I’ve been excited about turning 31 because it’s my lucky number backwards,” she wrote).

Swift indicated that evermore is intended as a “sister record” to folklore, but while this album is clearly an extension of the shimmery indie-rock/singer-songwriter direction unveiled on the previous record, it’s definitely not just leftovers from those sessions; it stands on its own as yet another triumph in a remarkable career. If it’s less consistent than folklore, it’s also looser, experimental, both softer and louder, chilly and warm—ever more.

The intimate, classic-yet-modern sound of folklore (recorded in secret and untroubled by the necessities of touring and promotion and avoiding Swift’s usual glossy and bright production) drew much of the attention, but there were clear precedents to that approach in songs of hers like “Clean,” “New Year’s Day,” and “The Archer.” More radical was her shift away from using her songs as diary entries to writing stories and sketches in the voice of characters, both fictional and real.

Swift mostly left it to listeners to connect the dots in the love triangle that ran through multiple songs on folklore. This time, though, she spelled out her intentions explicitly in a flurry of social media activity (even taking fan questions in the chat window during the YouTube premiere of the video for the opening track, “Willow”). She noted how the evermore songs “mirrored or intersect[ed] with one another,” pointing out the “two young con artists who fall in love,” “the girl who left her small town to chase down Hollywood dreams—and what happens when she comes back,” and “the ‘unhappily ever after’ anthology of marriages gone bad that includes infidelity, ambivalent toleration, and even murder.”

The strongest of these songs stand with her best work. “Tolerate It” is a devastating depiction of a love gone—not exactly cold, but harrowingly lukewarm. “’Tis the Damn Season” is the aforementioned tale of the celebrity returning home for the holidays, and you can’t help wonder if this one is a situation that hits close to her own heart. The twangy “No Body, No Crime” not only features her friends (and former opening act) Haim, it names the central character Este (how meta!) as it recalls the gleeful revenge of the Chicks’ “Goodbye Earl” and the swagger of Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats.”

Aaron Dessner of The National was the primary producer of folklore, but Swift’s longtime collaborator Jack Antonoff handled six of that album’s songs; here, it’s truly Dessner at the helm, credited with all but one of the fifteen songs on the standard edition of the album. Moving away from Antonoff’s pop chops (he picked up the remaining track, the pulsing “Gold Rush”) makes the pleasures come more from sonic details and nuances rather than big hooks.

The songs are less linear structurally and texturally, and the credits are littered with instruments like glockenspiel, modular synth, pocket piano, and chord stick. A glitchy rhythm track powers “Long Story Short,” while the clangy “Closure” is damn near industrial. Dessner’s band is officially credited on one song, but its members appear throughout evermore; Bon Iver returns after folklore’s aching duet “Exile,” this time playing and singing on multiple songs, and Marcus Mumford turns up on the finely-etched grifter’s tale “Cowboy Like Me.” (William Bowery, who Swift outed as her boyfriend, Joe Alwyn, on the Disney+ special Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions, gets three co-writing credits here, and even contributes the piano part on the closing title track.)

Not all of the stretches work: “Coney Island,” the duet with the National’s Matt Berninger, strains for “poetic” imagery, with the awkward refrain “Sorry for not making you my centerfold,” while the pairing with Bon Iver on “Evermore” doesn’t recapture the chemistry they found the last time. But damn, the girl can still write a punch line. “I come back harder than a ‘90s trend,” she sings on “Willow,” while on “Closure,” she drops a perfect post-breakup snapshot— “Don’t treat me like some situation that needs to be handled/I’m fine with my spite, and my tears and my beers and my candles.” Swift even seems to nod to the debacle of the Cats movie in the title track, acknowledging that “motion capture put me in a bad light.”

“I have no idea what will come next,” wrote Swift in one of her posts during the brief countdown to the release of evermore. “I have no idea about a lot of things these days.” But there’s little uncertainly in this confident, daring record—a surprising yet natural next step in Swift’s evolution—which feels like it will continue to reveal itself over repeated listens. In the chilling “Happiness,” she sings, “I haven’t met the new me yet,” meaning both her own replacement in a broken relationship and the person who will rise from those ashes. I can’t guess which Taylor Swift we will get next, but I can’t wait to meet her.

[exosmutfactory]

Hi! I’ve been reading a lot of your works and supporting your writing endeavors! I just wanted to have a few questions because I’m a lil confused 🥺 is this blog run by two people? 🥺 just saw your aff post and I wasn’t suddenly sure whether this is one person running a blog 👀

And for the second question I just wanted to ask if you could maybe share how do you usually outline/plot your stories? Esp 6P since they are loooong and obviously you did sneaky stuff in each chapter that will now make it all crumble on us.. love it so much!! ❤️❤️

Hello, hello!~ 🥺 Thank you so much for the support, dear, I appreciate it a lot 💗💗💗 I'm Nisa and this is my tumblr blog. Jenny has her own @jenny-udinov but she doesn't use it often like I do with mine 😊💞 I’m the only one who runs this account~

We both post our stories under candyfizzbyun on aff, and she has her own account there as well. Aff has that cool co-author feature that allows us both to edit stories from our own accounts.

Plotting stories... this will be a bit long, I apologize in advance 💖

Plotting stories, for me, takes a long time in the present, but saves time in the future. In my earliest years of writing I had this “act first, ask questions later” routine that ended up with me losing sight of the plot halfway through from lack of planning. Now I plan every square inch of plot for my stories. It saves me time and future heartache from incomplete projects.

Stories are born from two (2) scenarios.

1) Music

I live for music. No matter if I understand the language or not, I can get a good feel for the mood and tone of music, which leads me into the second scenario

2) Emotions

More likely than not, I dream up a new story idea, whether awake or when I’m asleep, particularly when I’m in my most vulnerable moments. It always starts with emotion when it happens this way. I vividly dream through a scene, sometimes I’m the protagonist, sometimes I’m watching from a bird’s eye view. 

In either case, the emotions felt through those characters are fleeting. If I don’t write it down the second I wake up, it will be lost forever. So what do I do? At this point, (with 2 years of Six Phases under my belt... hi 12am-4am perfect writing time,) I’ve trained my subconscious to wake me up the moment a scene ends so I can type it into a doc - which leads to lack of sleep, but it’s always worth it.

Now on to what helps me not only plot a story and all its major events, but write the details.

(This applies to my chaptered fanfics more than my one-shots - but even those have their plots too):

Every story needs a playlist

The main characters must have a backstories

The side characters all need individual personalities

Got two main characters that hate each other? Great! Turn that into a bittersweet romance.

Need a fresh new type of OC? Okay! Play around with different traits. Make the readers love some, hate some, and not know what to do with others.

I always try to make my fictional stories contain “real” characters that all face their own hardships. Yes, I love to keep plots engaging and complex, which now leads me into talking about the story I adore with all my heart:

Six Phases

This story was supposed to be short. Just a little thing I wanted to write to show my gratitude to the masterpiece that is City Lights. 6 songs. I wasn’t even aiming for 10k back in July 2019. Yet I found myself making my first ever story playlist and pulling an all-nighter to write a 5k+ 1st chapter.

Phew... would you believe me if I said that it was love at first sight? Or more like listen?

“Betcha, we were destiny, I’m gonna getcha.” 

That album speaks to my soul. And thanks to it, Riley and Baekhyun were born.

I won’t go into full details in fear of writing 12 pages 😅 I plan to make a post about everything when I complete the story, (which is almost done!~ One more update to go!~) But here’s some “juicy” info...

Six Phases is inspired by:

Baekhyun’s City Lights

&

Ariana Grande’s discography

Riley is a free spirit just looking to get through college, and Baekhyun is that playboy millionaire that knocks her world off-center. But just as bad as he has tipped her out of scale, he’s now flying out of orbit too.

They come together, they clash; they kiss, they fight; they love, they hate. And the worst part is, if it wasn’t for Baekhyun’s past, they could be perfect together.

Honestly, the most direct answer is that the up & down complexity of their relationship is based on a bunch of true stories. :’D Relationships are not all sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes you love someone so much it hurts, and to hurt them is to hurt yourself too.

All the side characters have their importance in this, (painstakingly,) intertwined story, and, really, if you think this is a lot of details to pay attention to, just wait for what comes next 🤭🤭😇😇😇

Six Phases comes straight from the heart... I feel every scene. That’s why it takes forever to be updated. I’m so happy that I didn’t delete it as I wanted to a year ago and kept going, and I’m so happy that you love it so much 💗💗💗

Also... 🤭 did you hear the news? Six Phases is... becoming... a...

series.

[aspenflower17]

Wrath is The Cat

Hey everyone! This is my first completed fan fiction. It is very long, but I want to make sure I don’t leave you guys hanging with an unfinished fic. It is for Obey Me! and I had fun writing it. Know that I have finished Lesson Twenty regular and Lesson 15 Hard, so there might be spoilers. It also talk about Fruits Basket in this fic, though I don’t think there’s any major spoilers for that (also, if you haven’t read it or watched the new anime, you should!).

I am posting this at midnight, so I apologize if there’s formatting problems or such. Please comment or DM me with anything major you see and I will attempt to fix :)

Satan / Reader

Word Count:  3960

[some angst at the end]

“Are you reading that again?” Satan asked, eyeing the newest volume of My Hero Academia Mc had.

“Technically,  this is the first time I’ve read this volume, but yes, I am reading My Hero Academia.“

"Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why would you read that when you could read real literature?”

“Hold on just a minute,” Mc said, fully shutting the volume so she could face him, “What did you say?”

“Come on. You can’t tell me you find that more compelling and as well written as A Portrait of Dorian Grey.”

“I never said one was superior to the other. Just because on is good does not invalidate the other. By that mode of thinking, no one should make new literature because it would never be as good as the classics, which is, simply put, a stupid idea.”

“Well, what about the issue of the art itself. These over idealized figures that couldn’t actually look the way they do in real life. ”

“Says one of the prettiest men I’ve ever met,” Mc muttered under her breath.

“Hmmm… what was that?”

“Are you talking about uber-boobs and uber-muscles?” Mc asked, hoping he honestly hadn’t heard her.

“Among other things, yes,” Satan said, though she could feel him trying to figure out what she’d actually said.

“Not all manga and comics are like that! It’s a trope in both genres. Before I started reading them, it’s something I thought too,” Mc said, not realizing that her voice had gotten very loud and fervent. Satan sat there, looking as if he was deciding whether to continue the conversation. Mc took a deep breath, her inner fan girl needing to quiet down in order to get through to him, “Have you read any?”

“Yes… Well, I tried once. Levi begged me to read one, so I conceded. Long story short, it was not to my liking.”

“Which one?”

“I believe it was called, That Time I Accidentally Fist Fought A Monster.”

Mc pinched the bridge of her nose, a habit she’d subconsciously picked up from Satan. He smiled softly as he recognized the imitation. That was a terrible anime or manga to start someone off on. It had a pretty good story, but it had far too many silly anime tropes for someone like Satan.

“That… That is not the one I would’ve started you out on.”

“And just which one would you have started me out on?”

Mc stopped, and started to think. Most of the anime and manga she liked were romance, and she wasn’t sure if those would be a good fit for him, especially since most of them didn’t have much of a story line besides the relationship. Although, there was one she had been able to get her brother into…

“My first instinct would be Fruits Basket. I’m not sure how much you'd like it at first, but I think if you give it a real chance and read until… the third volume, probably… I think you’d really end up enjoying it.”

“What do you think I’d like about it?”

“Hmmm… You’d probably really appreciate the dynamics between Kyo and Yuki. I also think you’ll appreciate the character depth and development. There’s also a lot of plot intricacies and plot twists. I also agree with a lot of people online that it’s a good introduction to anime and manga.”

“I’ll try it then.”

“Wait… What?”

“I have a feeling you’ve had more success introducing people to new things, especially since you have specific elements you think I would enjoy. So, I will try out your suggestion.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with my impulse reaction? I probably know of one’s you’ll enjoy more,” Mc asked, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable. Fruits Basket was one of the first anime she’s found on her own, and it still stood as one of her favorites. If Satan, who’s opinion she really valued, ended up hating it…

“I find I can trust your intuition most of the time. We also have similar tastes in regards to literature.”

“Oh… Well, I do have a copy of the first volume in my room if you want.”

“You have a copy here in the Devildom?”

“Mmmhmm. I ordered the whole set off of Akuzon after I found out Levi hadn’t read it.”

“I see. In that case, sure.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Mc smiled to herself the whole way back to her room. Though she was still a bit nervous, but after hearing Satan praise her tastes in literature, she was feeling more confident, “If I can at least get him to acknowledge it’s worth, I’ll feel accomplished.”

After grabbing the first volume, she thought for a second and grabbed the second. She put them in her book bag, and started on the familiar route to his room. All the brothers had a defined smell to their room, though Satan’s had always been the easiest for her to find. The smell of books started the moment you turned down the hallway his room was on. Standing in front of his dark wood door, she took a deep breath, knocked, then entered.

Satan was not where she had left him, which was kind of odd to her. Carefully avoiding a stack of books she had knocked over on a previous occasion, she started looking around, “Satan?”

There was some shuffling, and then his voice came from above, “You’re back quicker than I thought you would be. Come on up.”

Wait… What? Up the spiral staircase? For real? Everyone knew how rare it was to be allowed up to the second story of Satan’s room. No one went up without express permission. Even Mammon stayed out after being hexed so many times he’d lost feeling on the side of his big toe. Mc had only been up there once, and that was because Satan had wanted to show off his newest rare book. She had only been allowed to sit in the single armchair he had up theorem and she couldn’t touch anything, and for good reason. Satan kept his oldest, rarest, and most important books up there. He had even put a spell on every book up there to preserve them, and, if rumor was correct, a barrier that stopped him from going up there was he was upset. Aside from the few grimories and numerous magic books he had up there were rare human finds as well, all originals or first editions. One of Shakespeare’s folios. DaVinci’s Codex of Leicester. The Babylonian Talmud as well as an exemplified copy of the Magna Carter, both copies that the rest of the world didn’t know existed. A Gutenberg Bible, though his brother’s had no idea he had it. A collection of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Even an original copy of the Kama Sutra, which Asmo had given to him as a birthday present.

Getting to the top of the stairs, Mc stopped, not wanting to get too close to any of the books. Looking around, she couldn’t repress the sigh that emerged unbidden to her lips. Soft lighting that was perfect for reading with the spines of all the ancient books facing the world. Scrolls rested in their holders on the far wall. And there was the fourth eldest, crouched near one of the shelves, hand to his mouth and a furrow in his brow, thinking hard about something. His blonde hair had an almost golden hue in the light and his green eyes sparkled.

At the sigh, he looked up and smiled, “Go ahead and have a seat.”

Mc nodded and started over towards the chair she’d sat in the one other time she’d been allowed up here, but stopped halfway. The chair she sat on last time was still there, but now there was another chair. They looked fairly similar, being big reading chairs, but the new addition was much less worn and was more feminine in design. Having found the book he was looking for, Satan walked past Mc, and sat in the larger of the two chairs, effectively showing Mc which chair to take. After sitting down, she had to take a moment. It was by far, the most comfortable chair she’s ever sat in.

“I take it you like the chair then. Good, I’m glad,” he smiled, “I made sure it was large enough that you can curl your feet up on the seat like you do when you’re reading.”

“Wait… This is for me?”

“Of course. You need your own place to sit and read when you’re up here.”

Mc was at a loss for words, the gesture speaking volumes, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just promise you’ll keep coming over for our reading nights; that’s all I ask.”

“That’s the easiest promise in the world to keep! Of course I will!”

Satan smiled again, one of the real smiles she’d been gifted with more and more frequently, “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. Now, where’s this book you were talking about?”

“Yes, hold on,” Mc turned and grabbed it from her bag, “So, these are collector’s editions, so I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to be careful, but…”

“No problem,” Satan replied, taking the book, “If you’d indulge me, I also have a story I want you to read,” and he grabbed the book he had gotten from the shelf, “Do you remember the mystery author I told you about?”

“Yeah. Isn’t his name A. Cohen?”

“That’s the one. Well, I was wondering if you’d read his books while I read yours? I know mystery isn’t necessarily your favorite genre, but -” Satan cut off, looking down at Mc’s hand on his arm.

“I’d be more than happy to,” Mc beamed.

Satan smiled, “Glad to hear it. Now, these books are hard to come by in the Devildom. Please be careful with them. I happened to find a box set of his complete works, so replacing it would be pretty hard. The first one is Blind Intrigue.”

“Got it. Not that I wouldn’t be uber careful with anything you have up here.”

Satan laughed, “Well, I appreciate that,” and he opened the manga volume.

“Oh, did anyone tell you the way to read manga?”

“You read it right to left, correct?”

“Yes, including the speech bubbles. So, you’d read a page like this,” and Mc proceeded to show the way a page should be read.

“Ah. That would have been helpful last time. Thank you.”

“No problem,” and with that, they both started reading. Mc found Blind Intrigue very intriguing, enjoying that it wasn’t just another run-of-the-mill murder mystery. As she got further into the book, she subconsciously slipped off her shoes, and curled her feet up next to her. She almost forgot about the demon next to her. A sudden shift next to her brought her back to reality.

“I finished it.”

“Ah… W… What do you think?”

“It is much better than Levi’s suggestion. I am interested in continuing the series.”

“… If you want, I did bring the second volume with me…”

“You did?”

“Mmmhmm. I was hoping you’d like it enough to want the second volume…”

“Well, you did ask that I read until the third volume, so sure.”

“Mc beamed as she grabbed for the second volume, after safely tucking the mystery novel between the chair and her legs.

“So, are you enjoying Blind Intrigue?”

“Yes! It is really good. I like that it’s an actual mystery novel, a lot like the Sherlock Holmes stories. Most mystery novels revolve around a murder, but since this one dpesn’t, I like it more.”

“Very good,” Satan said while handing her the first volume back, “So, who’s your favorite character?”

“Huh? In Blind Intrigue or Fruits Basket?”

“Fruits Basket.”

“Ah, Momiji.”

“He reminds me too much of Mammon.”

“I… Guess? Just… give him some time. He’s really great.”

“So… who’s your second favorite?”

“Well, Momiji is my favorite favorite. Kyo is my main character favorite.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I have a feeling you’ll really end up liking him.”

“Ah, well, good to know,” Satan said, as Mc handed him the second volume.

There was silence for awhile until Satan burst out laughing. Mc looked up expecting him to share, but he kept reading; a sign he really liked the story. Pretending to go back to reading, Mc snuck a glance at Satan. He had a content smile on his face, and was even further along in the book than she had thought he would be. She smiled, feeling satisfied and a little vindicated in her choice.

Mc was about halfway through Blind Intrigue when she heard Satan shift on his chair. She looked over to find him sitting with the second volume closed and eyes on her. She in turn closed his book, waiting for him to speak.

“If the rest of the series is this high of quality, I definitely want to finish it.”

Satan helped Mc transport the rest of the volumes to his room that day. Though he really loved the series, he would only read it when Mc was around. As she now had a chair upstairs, Satan suggested they read up there, and he began sharing all the amazing books he had up there with her. It was nice for Mc, especially since none of the other brothers knew she was allowed up there. Satan finished Fruits Basket fairly quickly, not quite gushing about how much he loved the characters and story, asking Mc if she had any other manga recommendations. She was more than happy to oblige. Soon, Satan was reading manga whenever Mc was in his room, but only when she was in his room.

He didn’t like manga that were all trope and no substance, but he would try anything Mc brought him since she usually brought “good manga”. One of his favorites was Jo Jo’s Bizarre Adventures. It came as a surprise to him when, one day he declared a series to be his second favorite, after Fruits Basket, and Mc told him it was a series that Levi had gotten her into.

“You know, I’m sure he’d love discussing it with you…”

“Wait. You think I should go waltzing into his room and say, ‘Hey Levi, I really enjoy The Watchman’s Spell and am all caught up on it. We should talk about it’?”

“Well, yeah, basically. I’ll be there to referee, so I can help if needed. I almost never see you two hanging out together, and I actually think you two have more in common than you realize.”

“He just gets so long winded about… whatever. He also acts childish at times.”

“I do those too.”

“You will apologize though. He will not,” Satan paused a second, and then continued quieter, “Plus, it’s different when you do it.”

“Have you ever considered that he doesn’t back down or stop because he feels like no one cares what he thinks or what his interests are?”

Satan stopped, his retort lost. Was that really why? He considered again, and then turned to Mc, “Okay, I’ll do it, but he’s not invited to our reading nights.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Levi didn’t take the news the way Mc would’ve liked.

“Wha… Mc, w-w-what are you t-talking about?”

“I’ve been showing Satan some manga and he’s liked some of them. I think you should show him some too since you know waaaaaaay more than I do. He really loved Watchman’s Spell.”

Levi seemed scared but also irritated, “You had him read Watchman’s Spell?! Why?!”

“I… I thought he’d appreciate it and when he did, I thought you’d be excited to have someone new to talk to about it…”

“I have the entire internet to talk to about it, plus you. Why would I want-” Levi broke off, scowling as he turned away, but then rounded back on Mc, “Are you doing this to make fun of me? Are you tired of me, and so you’re trying to pawn me off on someone else? What, are you using your pact to make Satan act like he’s interested in talking to me?”

“No, Levi, listen to-”

“Glad to hear it, because you’re not getting rid of me, ya normie! You’re the one that wanted to make a pact, so you’re stuck with me! We’re also best friends so you better-”

“Levi!” Mc grabbed his face with both hands, worried as she saw his tail appear. She had expected some jealousy, but nothing this bad.

Levi stopped. Having Mc this close to his face made his mind go completely blank.

“Just because I expanded Satan’s literary horizons does not change the fact we’ve already discussed our wifeoo’s. It doesn’t erase all the time we’ve spent watching and discussing TSL. All the raids we’ve gone on, owning all the noobs… Though I’m kind of a noob… The point is, Lord of Shadows, your Henry is trying to get the Lord of Masks and you to become friends, just like with the Lord of Fools.”

Levi screwed up his face, bringing up his hand to hide behind. Mc let go, feeling the tension leave the room.

After turning and composing himself a bit (Did Mc just hold my face?!?!?!?), Levi turned, lifting his eyes to Satan, who was simply watching him, “Who’s your favorite character?”

“Zeke.”

“He’s actually my second favorite.”

“Who is your favorite then?”

“Brielle.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that she seems like the type of character you’d enjoy. She’s not bad. In fact, I enjoy the dynamic she brings to the tower.”

“Well, she became my favorite when she stopped the entire colony from starting an uprising against Charles when they thought he was keeping them from going home.”

“That was chapter 5 right?”

“Y-yes, actually!” Levi smiled, his eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree, as he started discussing the plot and fan theories with his brother. Satan responded to all his prompts or listened quietly, occasionally adding his own thoughts. He was being more patient than Mc had ever seen him be with Levi, and even seemed to be enjoying himself.

Good, Mc thought, watching the two bond, They both needed someone to get them out of their own head. At least I know I can leave these two without too many regrets.

Mc hadn’t brought up the fact her year was almost up to any of the brothers. She didn’t know if any of them had realized how close it was. She was not looking forward to leaving, but she knew she couldn’t let them just revert back to the way they had been, especially Satan. They had all come too far.

“Mc has an interesting thought on this subject actually. Mc, what are you doing over there? Come over here!”

“Coming!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Satan traced his fingers along Mc’s chair. Of course he’d gotten the chair for her so she could be more comfortable, but also to have a piece of her after she’d left. He hadn’t realized how much it would come to mean to him.

He pulled out his DDD, starting to flip through all the photos he’d snuck of her. Her, next to him. Her being so careful with his books. Her, sleeping in his bed, hair splayed across the pillow. He couldn’t count the number of times her scent had kept him from going after one of his brothers since she’d left.

He knew he was being reclusive, and she wouldn’t have liked that. But, weren’t they all being reclusive?

He sat down, head sinking into his hands, DDD put on the arm of the chair. Why did she have to leave? She had been such a breath of fresh air, so willing to discuss anything and everything with him. He had been able to open up to her, and she’d accepted him just as he was. No strings attached. For the first time in his life, he’d felt unique. Wanted. Needed. No longer alone.

He knew she’d been that way with all of them, but… It felt like she’d specifically picked him. He hadn’t been particularly interested in the human living with them, other than to see what she was doing to his brothers. She had been the one to approach him about books. She had been the one to pick his brain. She had read almost every book he’d suggested. He was special… Right?

He hadn’t noticed the tears until he opened his eyes and only saw a blurry floor, “If I’m special, why didn’t she…”

Mc had given each brother a gift when she left. When it was his turn, she’d whispered something in his ear, but she’d been crying so her words had caught. He couldn’t make out the words then, and even though he’d run them through his head more times than he could count, he couldn’t figure out what she’d said. She’d been so beautiful standing there, fresh tears ready to fall. And then… she was gone.

He had isolated himself for a week afterwards. He hadn’t been in the House of Lamentation though. Too many memories. In some small shack in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere he could release all his feelings and hurt no one.

As he was about to get up, a white blur caught his eye. Blinking, he bent over and picked it up. It was a letter. He turned it over, his heart jumping when he recognized Mc’s handwriting. He traced the letters of his name, hands shaking. He then carefully opened the letter and started reading,

My Dear Satan,

Seems you were able to hear what I said when I left. Good. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get it out.

Anyways, I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t give you your gift in front of everyone else. Not only is it too heavy, but you’re too special to me for them to be part of the gift.

I wish I could tell you everything in my heart right now, but I don’t want to cheapen anything. I will return to you so please be patient and wait until then.

If you would, please go check on Levi for me. I can tell you right now, he’s not okay right now. He gets so lost in his own head and I worry about him. I leave him in your stead until I get back.

Satan, always remember: You are important. You deserve every ounce of love you can get. You also have the right to feel whatever you are feeling. You are not your brother, and I never want you comparing yourself to him, because you are an individual. I may not always be there with you, but never forget: you may not have had control over your birth, but that is not what defines you. You are so much more than a word.

Love,

Mc

P.S. I just realized you never told me. Who is your favorite Fruits Basket character?

Satan had never moved so fast down his staircase. Why had he chosen a spiral staircase? He was so eager, he almost knocked over the book pile he was looking for. When he saw what was behind it, he sank to his knees and gathered every Fruits Basket volume in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Levi was moping around his room when there was a knock on the door. For a second he thought it was Mc, but then realized she was gone, making himself sad all over again. He shuffled over to the door, and opened it.

There stood Satan with… manga… and, puffy eyes?

“Hey, can we hang out?” Satan asked.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Update: I now have a part two to this story and here’s the link

[sketchguk]

Hi, friends! I can honestly say that I’ve been on Tumblr for about 9 years, but only 7 of those months have been spent on this account. Being a part of this fandom means so much to me, and as cheesy as it may be, I’ve never felt so much love from a community like this. I think that I should spread a little love back to everyone through this festive follow forever post in the spirit of the holidays (there’s also a message for my beautiful followers at the very end, so bear with me). Although I may have not spoken to you all personally, you’ve made my experience here amazing!! Whether it’s seeing you on my dash or in my inbox, you’ve all made me smile one way or another!! I’ll admit right now that I’ve sent so many anonymous messages to you all because I’m really shy, haha. Not to mention, I follow so many amazing content creators, gif/gfx makers and fic writers alike, and I want to make you smile as much as you have made me!! Y’all are so lovely, and I’m not totally sure why anyone chooses to interact with me or to follow me nonetheless. Maybe you’ve read a fic of mine, or none at all, I appreciate you all the same 💕 I know some of you may be in and out of hiatus, but just know that I’m thinking of you!! And if this is the first time you’re coming across my blog, I guess this is a good time to introduce myself. Hi, I’m Teresa. It’s nice to meet you 😄

If you’re reading this, hopefully we can chat a little more. I would love to get to know such lovely people 😊  To my beautiful mutuals, I love you all sooo much 💓 I’m not the best at expressing my feelings, but I hope that this is a start! @190713 @95swifi ✩ @alwayschoosechocolate ✩ @aureumjeon ✩ @beebopboobop ✩ @boobearcupcake ✩ @btsaremyfaves ✩ @btssmutheaven ✩ @bwiq ✩ @engeljimin ✩ @ddaengwrld ✩ @emiyooa ✩ @geniuslab 💌 ✩ @gimmeyoon (@gimmeyoon-main) ✩ @girlwiththespecs ✩ @gukgalore ✩ @gukkheaven ✩ @guktwt ✩ @hobimygs​ ✩ @hoseoknysus ✩ @idiotscalledfriends ✩ @joonary ✩ @kitsutaes (@geniusguk) 💌 ✩ @littlemisskookie ✩ @llsanjoonie ✩ @lovehrs ✩ @magicshop-myg ✩ @map-of-yoongi ✩ @maptoyoongi ✩ @mercurygguk ✩ @minflix ✩ @minlexia ✩ @minyoongsueit ✩ @mygsii ✩ @outroguks ✩ @pjmskosmos ✩ @sdmnluv ✩ @softaellie ✩ @spookitokki (@spookitokkimain) ✩ @starrytete 💌 ✩ @syugasshi ✩ @taesseok 💌 ✩ @tokyoscript ✩ @ve1vetyoongi ✩ @vminary 💌 ✩ @vtbts ✩ @vxngguk ✩ @wthkook ✩ @yourdelights 💌 If your url is bolded, scroll down for some words of affirmation. ✨ If you have an emoji (💌) next to your url, scroll down for a special message. 😇🌟  And here’s a shoutout to some of my favorite fic writers, because you all allow me escape to my happy place !! Thank you so much for contributing to the writing community !! This online space is pretty hectic, especially as of late, but you all make it worth it. Even if you’re taking a break from writing, I am here cheering you on !! And to let you know that I’ll support you no matter what. I hope you never lose your spark for passion and creativity !! Sometimes life gets the best of us, and other times, things are not in our control, but I want to send my love and appreciation to you nevertheless. Your fics have inspired me to try my own hand at writing, and I’m forever grateful ✨ You’re spectacular, every single one of you, so never forget that! Kpop isn’t that serious, but I’ll probably think about your fics until the day I die. @bymoonchild ✩ @floralseokjin ✩ @foreverpark ✩ @geniuslab ✩ @gimmeyoon ✩ @gukgalore ✩ @gukkheaven ✩ @guktwt ✩ @jamaisjoons ✩ @gukyi ✩ @kookswife ✩ @kinktae ✩ @kpopfanfictrash ✩ @minflix ✩ @mygsii ✩ @personasintro​ ✩ @prolixitae ✩ @readyplayerhobi ✩ @spookitokki ​ ✩ @ubemango ✩ @ve1vetyoongi (yee, you might see some repeats because my moots are super talented) 💖  A love letter from me to you: 💌 @geniuslab Megan !! This might sound soo sappy, but you’re the very first person I followed when I made this blog !! It’s because I’ve read all of your fics (perhaps more than once on my old account), and you inspired me to start writing as well. You have no idea how happy I was when you said you would get back into writing fics. I guess I’ll expose myself right now, but I’ve sent a few anons to you on the matter haha (yes, I am a 7 Chances enthusiast, one of many). You’re so talented, and I admire you so much 🥺 A gif maker and fic writer ?? Nothing you can’t do !! Among other things, you’re such a kind-hearted individual. I’ve read plenty of your text posts, and there’s just something so warm about the way you carry yourself. You deserve the world, and I wish for nothing but the best for you !! I hope you have an amazing new year and that you have space for peace, love, and healing. Please know that I support you through and through, and that you are well-loved ❣️

💌 @kitsutaes (@geniusguk) Yas !! I know we just started chatting, but I love getting to know you !! It’s hard for me to reach out to people because I’m shy, but I’m really grateful that you hit me up 😊 It’s been so nice getting to know you, and I hope we can get closer 💕 I’m already learning so much about you because our chats just flow from one topic to another !! You said you wanna visit new york one day, so I’ll hold you to that 😉 I’ll be your tour guide, and the only exchange I’ll ever need is your friendship !! Some dried mangoes would be nice too 😚 haha jk … unless 😳 I hope you have an amazing year filled with lots and lots of love. May you receive everything you’re wishing for !! 

💌 @starrytete Mirelle !! I’m still getting used to your new url LOL. But how could I ever forget you?? You are quite literally the human embodiment of an angel. You’re always spreading positivity, and I adore you with all my heart. I wish that I could be as radiant as you !! All the emojis that I’m using in this post?? An homage to you 🌼☀️ I don’t think I can ever look at emojis the same way thanks to you haha. Sending you lots of love!! I hope we can speak more in the future!! May the new year bring you happiness and good fortune!! Please take care of yourself, ok?! Message me whenever because my inbox is always open 🥰 

💌 @taesseok Mia !! I just love seeing you on my dash. I’ll give you a quick run down: Teresa: :[ Mia: *posts* Teresa: :] It’s like the universe knows. You’re a light in this world, and I hope you never lose your spark !! May you smile as often as I do (all thanks to you) 💗 I wish for nothing but your happiness since you deserve it and more. In fact, it’s the world that doesn’t deserve you and your sparkle !! I hope this year was rewarding for you, but I already know that 2020 will be better and better. I’ll be sending you lots of positive energy for the new year hehe 💞 Hopefully we can talk more soon !! I’d love to be friends !!

💌 @vminary Kiara !! I’m so happy that you reached out to me all those months ago because you’ve become one of my closest online friends !! I can’t tell you how much you mean to me because the limit does not exist. It’s so easy to talk to you, and sometimes our conversations are big sis/lil sis -esque (I’ve always wanted a sister lol 🐣). I feel as if we’ve taught one another so much, especially because of our cultural differences and the tiny age gap that we share. I find myself missing you because of the time zones LOL. In the middle of the day, I’m wondering whether or not you’re sleeping well :’) Why do you have to live across the world?? 😔 I would totally send you a package if I wasn’t broke haha. I’m sending you all my love here though, and I hope that’s enough !! 💛

💌 @yourdelights Destinee !! You are SUCH a sweetheart. The messages that you send me are so kind, and I don’t know what I did to deserve you. Do let me know how you stumbled across my blog because I feel like you’re way too cool for me LOL. Your posts are always so hilarious, and the tags have me dying. Your sense of humor >> !! My love for you is immeasurable, and I hope you know that, ahh. I think it was truly solidified when I found out you’re a fan of day6 and the rose :’) I’m not really a multi-stan, but from that moment on, I was sold. That was the only time my instincts did not let me down 🌹💝 I swear I’m getting introduced to new fandoms because of you haha. And when you went on a lil hiatus, I really missed seeing you on my dash !! I hope that you’ll be with us for a long time though !! I really can’t wait for what’s in store for next year, because no pressure or anything, but I’m sincerely excited for your WIPs hehe. I’m rooting for ya, so make sure you make the new year your b*tch !!  Lastly, thank you so much to my followers !! I see y’all in my activity, and I wanna let you know that I love you from the bottom of my heart !! At this point, I’m more of an update blog than a fanfic blog LOL :’) And if you follow me because you’ve stumbled through my fics, I just want to say 🤯 what?! It blows my mind that anyone reads my work, let alone enjoys it. I never would have though that I’d find solace in reading and writing considering I’m a full on STEM nerd. In conjunction with that, I literally started writing fiction 7 months ago to this day. I didn’t even realize that it would lead me to such amazing connections. With so many lovely people, popping in and out of my dashboard, inbox/DMs, and activity page, my heart b u r s t s with love!! Your interactions mean the world to me, even the most minute things like reblogs make my heart flutter. I really do check the reblogs to see if anyone has left a tag. Single words and keyboard smashes mean the world to me too !! Before I was a fic writer, I was just a silent reader. I always admired writers for the worlds they craft, the characters they develop, and the plots they devise, all for it to come together in one cohesive work of literature. Now that I have a vague understanding of what that’s like, I know that it’s nothing short of strenuous. Words are so powerful, and although I’m a really sensitive sap, I’ve read so many things that hit me to the core, and now I’m sure to tell the authors how much I enjoy their fics. If they went through hours (perhaps days/weeks/months) of drafting, writing, editing, and formatting, a quick comment from the reader really doesn’t hurt !! It’s the most rewarding thing a writer could ever ask for. As an amateur author myself, being on the receiving end is the thing that keeps me going !! I promise you, I don’t take any of it for granted. Your words seriously resonate with me, and it’s a huge motivator for me !! I hope that in the new year, I can work on new pieces for you all (as much as I don’t want to make up excuses, juggling life is not easy as a student!!) I always say that I write for myself, and as true as that is, I want to share my stories with you lovely people !! I pour my heart and soul into my work, and the build up of excitement is nothing if it means I can’t share it with someone else. So, old supporters, new supporters, look out for new content in the future. I hope you’re as excited as I am for the new year!! Please take care, y’all, and remember that I love you. My inbox is always open 💌 So let’s be friends 😇

[what-is-your-plan-today]

CSI:Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Serial Cereal Killer

Episode 2- A Sequins Of Unfortunate Events

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Episode Summary: Contains some sequins and a dumbass Steve as we flash back to THAT night (which is why most of it is in italics) and we see the real reason Katie’s a little pissed at him! Fasten your belts, this is a long one but we think it’s worth it. Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (in an elevator and then in a bedroom) NSFW and no under 18s. A bit of angst and feelings and…yeah, stooped with two os. LONG episode but necessary cos, well, when is smut not needed???

Episode Pairings:  Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark (yeah she likes his ass in this episode but only because it’s mostly a flashback…and we challenge anyone not to want to shake him hard at the end!)

Song for Episode:  Slow Hands by Niall Horan 

A/N: This entire series contains dark humour (CSI + Brooklyn 99=CSI Steeb) Avengers and Stark Spangled Banner Easter Eggs and jokes. You don’t need to have read the SSB series to understand or enjoy this, but we’ve used the Universe to spin this off from so somethings might puzzle a few of you if you ain’t, but feel free to ask.

Also, our knowledge of American Policing and Brooklyn is limited, so bear with us if we slip up, but at the end of the day this is a fiction so we’ll claim any mistakes as creative license!!

Oh and I just wanna give some BIG recognition for my lovely co-writer…she’s written most of this Episode. (I just provided the smut and some editing coz I’m a ho!) And it’s beautiful and clever and she deserves some praise especially as English isn’t her first language!!

As always we live for re-blogs and comments  

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List

“Hey Cap…” Thor nodded to Steve as he approached the bar where most of his team were stood, chatting.

“Hi fellas…can I get any of you a drink?”

They all nodded and thanked him, stating their orders. Steve turned to pay and at that point he heard Thor give a low whistle

“Holy shit…” he mumbled at the same time Clint also cursed.

“Damned…she looks good!”

“Oh for fucks sake come on guys…” Tony let out a sigh “That’s my little sister! Epically not cool.” Steve took a breath and turned to glance at Katie, his eyes widening. He couldn’t argue with Clint or Thor, she looked good. Better than good actually, stunning even. She was dressed in a tight, long sleeved green sequinned dress that was pretty damned short now he studied it. Not that he was complaining, particularly when she turned to speak to someone and he got a glimpse of how it curved over her shapely ass perfectly, leaving her toned legs on display, which looked even longer thanks to the patent black high-heel courts she was wearing. She continued her path into the room, her two-toned (“It’s called balayage, Stevie, you idiot!”) honey and dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulders in wave after wave of shiny, brunette locks which bounced as she walked, and he could see all the way from where he was that her eyes were lidded with some kind of gold sparkle and her lips were a dark, blood red.

Fuck! It was enough to make his pants feel tight. Really tight in fact. Steve thought she was pretty anyway, he’d be blind not to notice, and he’d seen her dolled up on so many occasions but tonight…well, tonight was something else.

She stopped, smiling and grinned, giving Romanoff a hug and the two women headed over to a table to the right.

“You’re catching flies…” Sam’s voice whispered in Steve’s ear. Steve turned instantly to look at him.

“No, that’s…I wasn’t…”

“You don’t have to pretend to me, man.” Sam grinned, taking the beer that Steve passed him as he dished the drinks out. “Pretty obvious you got feelings for the girl that go beyond friendship.”

Steve sighed and looked at Sam, preparing some kind of denial but he didn’t get the chance.

“You know she feels the same way, right?” Sam asked, “I can tell by the way she eye fucks you every time you’re in the same room.” “Sam.” Steve nearly choked on his bottle “Stop.”

“I’m just saying…” Sam grinned, “Tis the season for giving after all, if you get my drift…”

“Jesus…” Steve mumbled as Sam winked, turning to talk to Tony.

Steve fell into a conversation with Bruce, Clint and Thor about their plans for the holidays. Clint and his family were heading over to Minnesota to his in-laws, Thor was going to his Girlfriends seeing as this was the first Christmas his brother would spend behind bars, something that Steve could tell the man was a little bit upset about.

“You gotta admit.” Bruce looked at Thor, “Your brother…man, he’s not all there. His brain is a bag of cats.” “He’s still my brother.”

“Man, he killed 18 people in 2 days.” Clint looked at him.

“He’s adopted.” Thor shrugged.

“Did you forget the rest of your clothes or…” Steve heard Tony’ quip and turned round to see Katie stood in front of her brother. “I can see what you had for breakfast young lady.”

“Piss off Tony.” she shot back, and he quirked an eyebrow, looking at Sam.

“Rude.” he mumbled.

“I think you look great.” Sam said, “Doesn’t she Steve?”

Steve shot Sam a filthy look before he turned to his best friend, smiling “Stunning, as always.” “Smooth Rogers.” she grinned at him, making a deal of looking him up and down “Looking pretty fly yourself!”

He glanced down at the light blue button down he was wearing underneath a tweed blazer, coupled with dark Diesel Jeans and brown brogue boots before looking at her, grinning cheekily “Well my best friend is also my self-appointed stylist and she knows her stuff, what can I say?”

“You can thank her by buying her a drink.” Katie winked back and Steve laughed, turning to order her a martini.  “Gin…” “Not vodka, yeah I know…” he finished for her as she bumped her hip against his. She curled and arm round his waist and he found his dropping round her shoulder, giving her a friendly squeeze before they released one another.

As always happens at parties, everyone started to drift off to speak to people they knew and take the time to catch up. Katie and Steve remained at the bar and the party was in full swing by the time Katie finished her drink and Steve drained his second beer. She ordered them another round as Steve took a quick look around. The hip, rooftop bar they were in, The Westlight, was located in the William Vale, a 5 star hotel in the heart of the City, and it was crammed with people celebrating. This year the local authorities of New York had decided to indulge Brooklyn security forces and had decided to throw an over the top Christmas party for both 99th and 101st units of NYPD and the Brooklyn section of New York's Fire Department and had hired the entire bar. Katie had joked about getting a room in the hotel simply so she could pretend she was a right high-roller for a night and a day but had soon balked at the fact they were over $300. Mind you, Steve had to give it to them. The views the place offered of the New York Sky Line was something else.

 It almost made up for the obscene prices at the bar. Almost.

With a thanks he took the beer that was slid his way and they resumed their conversation, talk between the pair of them easy as always, and they launched into a discussion about Steve’s new car which he had collected earlier that day.

“So you drove?” Katie looked at him and he shrugged “Dude, it’s the Christmas party…” “Yeah and I can leave it here if I decide to.” Steve shrugged “It’ll be safe enough with the valet...” “Why didn’t you just get a cab?” “Hey, look, I’ve been waiting 12 weeks for that baby.” he said, looking at her “I wanted to drive it.” “You know, your obsession with cars is kinda a little bit sad” she grinned.

“I could say the same thing about you and shoes.” “Hey, at least my obsession fits in a wardrobe…”

“Yeah, they also fit in my hand when I end up carrying them, and you, home from a night out when you can’t walk in them anymore…” he looked at her.

She narrowed her eyes playfully and was about to quip something back when they were interrupted.

"Having fun Kiddo?" Tony asked and Katie turned to her brother as he made a gesture to her with his hand "Just roll with me." he mouthed.

Katie smiled and raised an eyebrow at him. "What's up with you, Tone?" she asked amused, sharing a side glance with Steve who was now also smiling at Tony's awkward face. 

"Shhh, trying to get rid of..." he was about to explain but was interrupted by an overexcited Peter Parker.

"Whooooa, this party is pretty awesome Mr. Stark! Don't you think?" he piped. "I mean, this is... Look at all those people, they are... there are hundreds of them, and the place is just..." he continued babbling while grabbing Tony by his arm and looking all around him.

"Yeah, you're very articulate, aren't you?" Tony deadpanned.

Katie giggled softly "Glad you're having fun Peter." 

Peter, who hadn't noticed that Tony stood beside Katie and Steve by the bar, turned to her and couldn't help but check her out in awe "Oh my God! Katie, I mean, Miss Stark, you look hot!" 

Katie started laughing like crazy after Peter's remark and Steve shook his head at him with a grin.

“Ok Underoos, time to shut up that squealing mouth of yours before I stick a coaster down your throat." Tony said glaring at him, picking up a bar mat from the surface and waving it threateningly in Peter’s direction.

Peter, who was now blushing fiercely, tried to come up with an apology "Oh, I'm sorry Miss Stark, you're not hot…”

Katie was looking at Peter with a raised eyebrow and an amused expression on her face, she had a soft spot for the boy. Tony was now getting annoyed and rolled his eyes "Oh, come on...." 

"Sorry, that's not what I meant, I mean yeah you look hot,... Oh, God... I mean, you look great tonight Miss Stark...." he stuttered and turned to Steve who now gave him a wide smile.

"Peter." he greeted the kid.

"Cap…Captain" he greeted back a mixture of shyness at his boss and embarrassment for the ongoing conversation he was trying to get back on the right track much to Tony's dismay.

“Just Steve outside the station Peter…” Steve smiled at him.

It was then that Sam approached the group, bottle of beer in his hand and moving his head to the beat of the music which was blasting from the speakers all over the club. 

"Is he misbehaving?" he asked Tony, Katie and Steve with a fake serious face."Are you misbehaving, kid?" he turned to Peter now patting him on the back. "You know you get cranky when you don't get your juice box."

"Yeah, kid's on a sugar rush." Tony quipped.

"Ok, let's get you some hot cocoa short stack." Sam offered.

"I'm not a kid Mr Wilson, you know I'm 21..." Peter started rambling again as Sam took him by his arm and both disappeared among the sea of people.

"If you excuse me, gentlemen, I'm going to greet some people" Katie said to Tony and Steve as she also started to make her way towards a group of people who were perched on a table by the large windows which looked out over the City.

Steve waved her goodbye "See you, later". And turned to Tony who was now ordering his third tumbler of Scotch and one for Bruce who joined them moments later. Steve found himself trying to pay attention to what the two men were telling him, but although he was nodding and humming in agreement with Tony's bragging and Bruce’s slightly more modest chat, he didn't have a clue to what either man was saying. 

He couldn't keep his eyes off Katie. He had tried but failed spectacularly. He was continuously gazing in her direction where she was now talking to her former friends from the 99th. Peralta, Diaz, Boyle and Jeffers welcomed her immediately, Jeffers standing up to give her a huge hug before he she slid onto the bench seat next to him, joining in the conversation. A few moments later, Boone from the NYFD sauntered over and the table greeted him and he made to sit down and join them, which was quite funny to Steve as he knew from Katie’s tales that Peralta and him had a long history of confrontations.

But what wasn’t funny to Steve was the next man that joined them. Steve hadn't seen him before so he presumed the guy was from the Fire Department, which seemed to be confirmed when he reached over, shaking Boone’s hand before Boone proceeded to gesture around the table. Mystery man then shook everyone’s hand in turn, but when it came to Katie he saw the man’s entire body language change and he kissed the back of her hand before gesturing to the seat next to her. She nodded, smiling and moved up slightly to allow him to sit down.

Steve watched as they struck up a conversation and the sight of the tall, well-built, really quite handsome man leaning over to say something into her ear was enough to send Steve to a place he had never been before, certainly not when it came to his best friend. Was it protectiveness, annoyance at the memory of shitweasel Ward? Was it concern about her safety, after all she didn’t know the guy did she? Was it exasperation at the guy's bold mannerisms as his arm curled round the back of the bench she was sat on, his entire body angled towards her? Was it uneasiness due to the fact that she actually seemed to be pretty comfortable around the guy and looked like she was enjoying the attention? Was it....?

Oh God, it was, wasn't it? It suddenly struck him like lightning.

"Are you Ok, Cap?" he heard Tony ask him. "You're staring blankly at us and clenching you jaw. I mean, I know the gadgets Brucey and I have put together are pretty awesome, but still..."

Steve swallowed thickly before he composed himself. "Excuse me Tony, Bruce…need to find the restroom."

With that he started walking away from the men, heading to the door that led to the outside roof terrace, not looking back. He pushed the door open, the cold December air hitting him like a sledge hammer, but he hardly noticed. He was too busy trying to make sense of the million and one thoughts which were careering through his brain, but no matter how much he tried to tell himself otherwise, it was no use. He knew exactly what that feeling that had swept over him when he’d watched Katie was.

He was jealous.

If he was being perfectly honest, it wasn’t the fact that he was jealous that had him so distressed, it was the realization that all those feelings he had been harbouring for Katie over the last ten years had hit him right between the eyes when he least expected them. 

Steve leaned his arms on the railing of the balcony and ducked his head between them, letting out a oft groan. His mind was wandering back and forth in time, searching a rational explanation for what he was feeling. But what can be explained rationally when it comes to feelings? He closed his eyes and sighed. Feelings developed slowly, didn't they? They didn't just hit you all at once in a bar in Brooklyn just because a pretty girl made one hell of an entrance in a tight sequined number.

He straightened himself and gazed into the beautifully lit skyline of the city, his analytical mind working at full speed, roaming through all those years he had known Katie. Ten years. Ten years they had been friends, best friends even. So close that everyone laughed at the fact that they seemed just like a married couple.

And now that he came to think of it there were those small things that would likely have given him away in the eyes of others all through that time. How he hated Ward for starters, he had never trusted him. How he would look away whenever he kissed her or even hugged her. Katie had teased him about PDAs making him uncomfortable but it wasn’t that. It was because those particular ones did.

He had never been uncomfortable around Katie, in fact he had quite liked all those funny little feelings he got when she laughed or teased him, flirted with him slightly in the way she always did. He smiled remembering how he had flushed whenever she behaved like that with him, it was a warming feeling that had made his cheeks red every now and then that he had simply put down to awkwardness or embarrassment. But it was nothing of the sort, it was just him having feelings for Katie, and those feelings had been there for some time now.

Almost ten years in fact. So, when he thought about it, it had been a pretty slow burn after all.

"Fuck"  he whispered at the realization Sam had hit the nail on the head.

What now? How did he act on those feelings? That is if he should act on them in the first place. What was that Sam had said? Did she have feelings for him too? Did he want to know? Too many questions and the only thing he knew for sure was that he wasn't gonna get an answer to any of them out there. He decided to get himself together, go back inside and play it cool. As cool as he could manage that is, considering that the scrawny Brooklyn kid he once was usually liked to make an appearance in situations like this.

He could do this…he could do this… get it together Rogers.

He pushed himself back from the railing and turned round

"Let's see how it goes" he whispered to himself before opening the door that led back to the bar.

He needed a drink was the first thing he thought while he made his way through the people, greeting some colleagues and acquaintances alongside. Yup, some Dutch courage…even if he still had no idea to what purpose.

He found Bruce, Thor and James Rhodes, or Rhodey as they called him, Head of Relations with the Press, by the bar. When he reached the three men, he ordered another beer from the barman gesturing with his hand.

"Gentlemen." Steve greeted them. "Enjoying yourselves?"

"Yeah, some more than others." Rhodey pointed with his head to Thor who had now his left arm and head slumped on the bar counter.

Bruce, who was looking at a certain redhead dancing the night away in the middle of the dance floor with Wanda, Rosa, Gina and Amy from the 99, turned to see what Rhodey was talking about and asked "Is he sleeping?"

"No, I'm pretty sure he's dead." Rhodey deadpanned.

And with that Thor snored and woke himself up, stumbling on the stool he was half seated. Steve scoffed and swept his eyes around the club searching for Katie only to find her still seated chatting with the fancy fireman. He turned around to face the counter and grab his beer in an attempt to calm himself and steady his hands. He saw Thor's now empty glass there, in an almost reflex action he took one of the ice cubes that still hadn't melt and put it in his mouth, munching it instantly, the crunch satisfying.

Bruce looked at him at the sound of his teeth and jaws grinding ice and with a raised eyebrow asked "What's with you and ice?"

"Childhood trauma." he said sharply.

"Yeah, I get it. I still have issues with green veggies." Bruce said shyly. "They still make me angry." 

"You seem quite a calm guy" Steve said now smiling at Bruce.

"No, that's my secret Cap, I'm always angry." Bruce retorted.

They suddenly heard a loud thud and looked down finding Thor, who had slipped from the stool, sprawled on the floor. 

"Now, he's dead." Rhodey said laughing while Steve, Bruce and Sam, who had come to the rescue, helped the big man up. 

"I'm good. I'm good." Thor said and started dancing to the music and singing loudly, and out of tune, to the song that was playing while giving a thumbs up to the DJ in the cabin.

"What's that awful noise?" Tony who had now joined the small group asked.

"Blondie here, murdering song after song." Rodney replied.

"Thor! Thor!" Tony called. "Thor, for fuck sake, will you please stop squealing? You think you're a full tilt diva but your voice is hitting on my head like a hammer!"

Thor stopped singing but continued moving his arms and head and stomping his feet to the rhythm of the music. Steve laughed softly at the clumsy ways of such a big man and when he looked up he smiled at the vision of Clint approaching them the team ladies in tow. 

"Heads up, everybody" Clint yelled impersonating some kind of MC, "Let's have a toast for the 101st."

"Sure thing" Tony said gesturing to the barman and ordering a drink for everybody to toast.

Steve tensed up when he felt Katie by his side, her arm brushing against the fabric of his shirt. 

"Having fun, Cap?" she asked with a playful smile.

"Not as much as you." he replied face-palming himself internally at his own reply. 

He saw Katie look at him with a frown and her mouth wide open. She was about to ask him something, probably what had come over him, but she couldn't as at that very moment Tony came back with a tray full of champagne flutes for everyone.

"Ok, raise your glasses everyone and let's hear it for the Brooklyn 101" Clint yelled.

"For the Brooklyn 101" everybody yell back clinking glasses and sipping from them. 

They all turned at the loud sound of a glass breaking and saw Thor grinning as he looked at the shards on the floor, before he glanced up and with a huge bellow shouted "Another!"

The staff of the club, however, weren't that willing to laugh at Thor's shenanigans as they came to gather the broken glass to avoid someone being badly cut. Clint, Sam and Rhodey took Thor outside to breath some fresh air. Natasha dragged Wanda and Bruce back to the dance floor. And Tony went to the restroom or as he put it, to take a leak.

Now that they were alone Katie pulled on Steve's hand and headed for a more secluded table at the far end of the club. He let her tug him along and settled onto the bench besides her.

"Ok, what was that about?" she shot at him.

"What was what?"  Steve asked trying to avoid giving her a straight answer, allowing him a moment to think about how he was going to play his cards. Was he going to play them? His mind was in turmoil. He felt a bit dizzy, he had had too many beers, he knew. Luckily, that nutrition programme he took part in during college had gifted him some sort of increased metabolism which prevented him from getting overly drunk, well, Thor scale of drunk anyway, that was unless he hit the hard stuff.

"You know what I mean Steve, don't play dumb with me." Katie was raising her voice now.

"I only said you seemed to be enjoying the company." Steve shrugged trying to appear relaxed.

"Of course I was! It's been a while since I'd been able to catch up with the boys." she said. "I was having a great time watching Peralta and Boone roast each other." She laughed. "See what I did there." She winked. 

Steve merely raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oh! Wait.." Katie smiled amused. "You're talking about.... Yes, you are, aren't you?"

Steve didn't answer, he continued looking at her, not sure if he wanted to know more about the mystery fancy fireman.

"He's a friend Steve, well sort of, we hadn't actually met before tonight." Katie said softly like she was talking to an angry child.

Steve frowned, not understanding how one can be friends with someone and have never actually met.

"His brother in law is friends with Tony, freak scientists stuff..." Katie explained now. "You must have heard about him, Reed.... Reed Richards?"

Steve stared blankly at her, trying to match a face with that name in his mind.

“He developed a lot of the forensics awareness training new officers do.” she said.

“Ah, yeah…vaguely…” Steve nodded, the image of a tall, dark haired man crossed his mind.

"Johnny is a fireman, he works under Boone’s chain." Katie continued while stirring her drink with the straw. "He seems nice, we've only been chatting..." she suddenly stopped and looked up at Steve. "Hang on! Why am I explaining myself to you anyway?" she asked squinting her eyes at Steve.

Steve hesitated for a few seconds and was about to provide her with a feasible answer that would soothe her when he felt someone slap him on his back.

"Hey, Cap" Tony squealed and turned to face his sister.

"Been talking to Fury, kiddo. The Pirate says you're considering DC after all." he said looking at Katie trying to keep his legs steady and leaning on her shoulder. "Warn a brother next time, will you? You made me look like a fool." he slurred and turned to the dance floor trying to focus his sight.

"Hey, Bruce, good moves..." he said now leaving the friends sat there, walking off to join his team mates on the dancefloor, moving his arms suggestively over his head.

"What was that?" Steve snapped. "About DC? You've made your mind up?"

"I'd be stupid not to go. But hey, nothing's set up in stone. I'm just considering it" she answered trying to lighten up the mood.

"I didn't think you'd be serious about the role." Steve demeanour was getting bleaker.

"Why?" Katie asked frowning at him. "Of course, I'm serious, Steve. You told me there's no Sergeant vacancy in the unit, not as a Detective and I don't wanna go back to uniform."

"I know. It's just I didn't think they would actually offer it to you." he said now trying to sound as convincing as possible.

He wasn't prepared to let her go. To let her leave him. Not now. What if? What if history repeats? Peggy left him for the chance of pursuing higher ranks at the force. She had broken him and now he wasn't sure if he would be able to cope with Katie leaving him as well. He had known Katie way more years than he had known Peggy after all.

"You didn’t think they’d offer it to me? Why’s that, Steve?" Katie was getting visibly annoyed now. "Because I'm not good enough?"

"No! That's not what I meant!" Steve couldn't help but yell back.

"That’s the second time you spoken to me out of turn tonight" she said, her nostrils flaring. "I'm done."

Katie stood up and pushed between him and the table, grabbing her purse and stalking over the room heading for the door.  

Steve fumbled a bit and watched her go away. "Shit" he yelled behind gritted teeth. Slamming his beer back onto the table he jumped up and started to walk towards the door, needing to catch her before it was too late. 

On his way across the dance floor, well a straight line is always the fastest way to your target, he heard Tony say "Uh-oh, Kiddo rant scale currently at 7..." while Natasha turned to Clint and deadpanned "They need to bone and get it out of their system."

Just what he needed to hear now. Damned his better than normal hearing. Steve emerged into the entrance hall of the bar floor but there was no trace of Katie. He looked up and saw the light of the elevator signalling it was going down. With no time to spare he opened the door that lead to the stairs and rushed down two steps at a time.

When he reached the ground floor he was panting as he burst through the door into the lobby of the hotel and stopped in his tracks as he spotted Katie putting on her coat by the reception desk. Thank God, her stop at the cloakroom had provided him with a few precious minutes.

He walked to the reception trying to make up his mind on what to say. When he caught up with her, he heard her ask for a cab to the receptionist.

"Cancel that." he said to the receptionist.

"Don't you dare." she looked at the receptionist.

"Cancel it!" he said again, his voice this time stern.

“Grrr!” with an angry growl she turned and glared at him "Fuck off, Steve." she snarled and started to walk to the main door "You're an asshole." she said before stepping out and slamming the door, not caring if she nearly clipped Steve's face.

Steve followed her and grabbed her arm. "Come here." he said taking her away from the brightly lit area by the main entrance to the hotel to a more intimate spot a bit further along that was slightly dimmer.

Katie flinched slightly at the strength of his grip and Steve noticed and let her loose. "I'm sorry." he said raising his palms. "I'm sorry, doll" he said again. "Just talk to me, right?"

"Why don't you support me? I thought of all the people you'd be the most thrilled about me having this opportunity, Steve." she said wrapping her coat around her chest, a hurt look in her eyes.

"Of course, I support you." Steve said quietly. "You're an amazing Detective. It's not that..." he hesitated, not knowing how to carry on.

"Then, what is it? Explain it to me because you've been acting weird all night" she said her green eyes pleading him.

He was well damned fucked. Point of no return.

"When I told you about that opportunity last month, you were all for it so I applied, so what changed?" she continued trying to make her point seeing as he wasn't saying anything.

Steve closed his eyes for a few seconds and then opened them again.

"You" he simply said.

"Me? I've changed?" Katie asked not understanding what he was trying to say.

"No. Not you..." he paused before continuing. "God, this is messy..." he rubbed the back of his neck. "The way I see you." he finally said looking directly into those beautiful green eyes. “That’s changed.”

"Oh" Katie managed to mutter. She was suddenly silent, searching into his blue eyes. After a moment, which seemed an eternity to Steve, she stepped forward and whispered.

"Say it." 

"Say what?" Steve asked still looking into her eyes.

"Use your words, Stevie. Tell me what you mean." she softly encouraged him.

Oh God, that damned pet name…

"Can I ask you a question?" he said, licking his lips nervously.

"You just did, but I'll give you another go." she smiled.

He rolled his eyes but smiled back at her before saying "Sam told me before... that you have..." he paused. 

"That I have what?" she asked.

"That you have feelings for me." he finished.

"Oh" she simply said, her eyes wide. Her cheeks flushed and she bit her lower lip. "Did he? Are those gonna be his last words?" she said with a shy smile not losing contact with his eyes.

"Is it true?" he asked, a tinge of hope in his words, bolstered by the fact she hadn’t denied it. "Do you feel it too? I mean, when we're hanging around, when we spend time together? Because it feels more to me, like we’re more than just friends…"

"I feel it when you're not around, Stevie." she said gently, cutting him off. Her eyes still locked onto his.

Steve breath hitched at her admission, a shy smile spread across his face.

"Steve, I..." she started to say but fell into silence, her face was now really flushed and so was her neck, in the way it always did when she was feeling slightly awkward or embarrassed or excited.

"Use your words, doll." he said softly, smiling at her. His attempt to ease the tension worked and she giggled and looked down, tucking her hair behind both her ears before she glanced back up at him, desire now sparkling in her eyes.

"Steve, I've liked you since the day we met. I think you're the most amazing person in the world. You're gorgeous inside and out..." she breathed deeply before continuing "After everything, well you make me feel safe like.... like I'm home…I just never thought in a million years that a guy like you would ever look at me like that.”

Now it was Steve who fell deadly silent. He pondered Katie's words for a moment and gave her a shy side smile. “You have no idea how beautiful you are do you?”

She gave a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she looked down muttering the word “Charmer.” as he reached out and gently tipped her head up so she was looking at him. His eyes bounced across both of hers for a second or so before he gently tilted her face up, angling her head. The distance between them closed…until she was knocked sideways, stumbling a little. He caught her and turned to glare at the culprit.

“Heyyyy!” Boyle smiled, swinging his arms out to the side “Didn’t see you there…” “He’s drunk…” Peralta apologised, “And so am I…we’re gonna get food…” Katie nodded at them both and with the hand that was curled around her waist, Steve gently squeezed her hip.

“NINE NINE!” Peralta yelled, punching the air as he left, Boyle whooping and repeating the chant as he tripped slightly before they rounded the corner. As they disappeared from sight Steve bent over and softly spoke into her ear.

“Shall I take you home, Doll?”

“Thought you were never gonna ask…” she said, not looking at him. He squeezed her hip again and together they strode back towards the valet, reaching into his wallet for the ticket, neither of them saying a word.

As soon as she was in the car she kicked off her shoes and let out a groan. “My feet are killing me…” she said, placing her feet up in front of her. She looked around the inside of the car, not actually having been inside it yet seeing as he had only picked it up that afternoon and gave a hum of appreciation.

“It’s nice…not as sexy as your mustang but I like it.” she said.

“Sweetheart, I haven’t had that mustang in years” he chuckled.

“Yeah I know.” she sighed “I liked that car, I still can’t believe you got rid of it.”

“Thought it was time I grew up a little…” he shrugged, looking at her.

“You’ll be driving around in a Prius soon, like Brian off Family Guy…” “Piss off…” he laughed as she let out a chuckle, flexing her dainty painted toes as they rest on the leather of the dash.

“Where did you this one from again?”

“It was imported from Germany, now get your feet off the dash.” She looked at him, a coy smirk on her face and moved her long legs one by one, placing her feet in the foot well. How the fuck she made such a simple movement as much of a turn on as she did, he had no idea. Had she always been such a teasing minx?

The rest of the car drive was spent in a comfortable silence. Well, as comfortable as it can be with a semi-lob on. His fingers were impatiently tapping on the arm rest between them and Katie reached out and pulled his hand onto her lap, gently running her finger tips over his knuckles as his palm lay against the bare, warm skin of her thigh. His jeans began to feel even tighter and it was all he could do to stop his hand wandering further up her skirt as he drove. Every so often she’d shoot him a knowing look, her eyes sparkling, and he’d simply grin back, or try and ignore her, keeping his eyes on the road.

Thankfully her place was nearer than his so he found a spare space outside her block and climbed out, opening the passenger side for her.

“Thanks.” she said, her voice quiet but oh so loaded and fuck, it made his trouser predicament even worse. He walked behind her, up the few steps into her building where she unlocked the door and dropped her keys into her pocket. His arm once more around her waist, they waited impatiently for the elevator.

No sooner had the elevator doors shut than Steve's final tendril of self-control snapped and he spun, pushing Katie back by her shoulders. She let out a soft squeak of surprise as his hand slid up to the back of her head, fingers winding into her hair, holding her face steady. There was a split second where she gazed up at him, her eyes bright with a lust he had never seen before, and then she bit her bottom lip and he was done for. Their lips met and God it was everything he had imagined it to be, and more. His lips massaged against hers, softly at first but then he felt her hands sliding up round his neck as she pulled him to her harder, and Steve couldn't help the soft groan that left his mouth. He felt her lips curve into a smirk and he took the chance, tongue sweeping across her bottom lip. Obligingly she gave him what he wanted, and depend the kiss even more, her mouth opening to grant him access. She tasted slightly sweet, the remnants of her last drink invaded his senses as his tongue fought hers for dominance and holy fucking shit he didn’t ever think he'd ever been kissed like this before in his life.

Pressing into her more he moved his hands to gently grab at her hips, hands dropping to her ass where he hauled her up, pressing her back into the elevator wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed up against her, hands gently creeping up the hem of her dress, fingers softly caressing the outside of her thighs and his lips moved from hers to the pulse point of her neck and she gave a soft, sultry sigh. Steve knew he was an absolute gonner and he couldn’t help but react to her noises and movements by pushing against her and the noise she made as his denim clad crotch rubbed up against the fabric of her underwear was fucking sinful. His cock twitched and somewhere in his brain his logical mind desperately fought for a shard of restraint because they were still in fucking elevator after all... But it was her that stopped, quite suddenly too. Steve felt her tap him lightly on his shoulder and he moved from where he had been softly nipping at her neck to look at her, questioningly, wondering if she was having second thoughts. She bit her lip and nodded behind him which made him turn, and he saw the elevator door had opened and a small, blonde woman was looking at the pair of them, eyebrow raised, mouth dropped in slightly shock. "Shit." Steve mumbled as Katie gave a very un-ladylike snort as he set her on her feet. He bent down to retrieve her purse for her as she straightened out her dress. She took the purse in one hand and reached for his with her other, lacing her fingers between his. As they passed she nodded to the woman and said her name, but all too late Steve realised he hadn't heard it as his brain was still trying to catch up. Not wanting to be rude he nodded to the woman "Neighbour..." "Have a good evening..." she replied, not even bothering to hide the smirk from her face. "Did you seriously just say neighbour?" Katie snorted as she crossed the hall towards her door. "Well I don't know her name..." he said as she turned to face him.

"What?" She blinked, shaking her head. "Sharon! I literally said it like 3 seconds ago!" "And you think I was listening?" He said, arching an eyebrow as he placed both hands on the door, palms flat at either side of her head, caging her with his strong arms. His face was inches from hers again and she grinned "You gonna give me a chance to find my keys or just kick my door in?" With an arch of his eyebrow his left hand slid into the right pocket of her coat, and he pulled them out, hanging them in front of her face. Not taking her eyes off his she reached out to take them, before turning around to slip the key in the lock. Steve gently swept her hair off her neck and trailed hot kisses up towards her ear. With a sigh she rolled her head to the side as his mouth grazed a path to her jaw line before he placed a soft kiss at the side of her mouth.

“Open the door sweetheart” he said, his voice low and she jerked back into action, turning the key. Steve leaned over, pushing the door open and she stepped inside, Steve following. The door opened into the hallway which was dimly lit by a lamp on the table to the side of the door. Katie tossed her keys onto it, along with her purse as Steve clicked the door shut, leaning back on it as he watched her turn to him, eyes heavy as she looked up at him. There was a moment’s pause before he stepped forwards, hands creeping up to cradle her face as he gently pressed his lips to hers, the kiss a stark contrast to the urgent ones they’d shared moments before. Soft, sensual, his large hands caressing the side of her cheeks and neck as she leaned up into him eagerly. The kiss broke and he ran his nose against hers, pulling back slightly.

“You sure?” he said, his voice a whisper, needing to know she still wanted to go through with this, cross that final line. Without a word she turned, tugging on his hand, leading him to the right down the hall towards her room. As the reached the doorway he pulled her back towards him, spinning her round making her giggle as she fell into his chest, his arms wrapping around her as he bent to kiss her again, the pair of them blindly stumbling into the room, which is when Steve felt a searing pain in his shin as it collided pain fully with the wooden doorframe.

“Mother fucker…” he cursed, releasing Katie as he bent to rub at his shin, hopping on one leg into the room as Katie laughed whilst a plethora of curses that would make a sailor blush tumbled from his lips.

“Awww want me to kiss it better?” she teased as she undid her coat and tossed it over the back of the chair that sat in front of her vanity unit.

“Oh, you’re gonna kiss summink…” he snarked back as he kicked the door to the room shut, smirking at the look on her face as she arched an eyebrow.

“Very presumptuous of you Captain.” she teased.

“Think we’re a bit past the presuming stage don’t you?” he said, closing the distance between them again, on arm snaking round her waist as he pulled her back to him. Her hands ran up his chest to the lapels on his jacket as she pushed it back off his shoulders and Steve moved his arms allowing it to fall to the floor. Next she was working at his shirt, tugging the bottom of it out of his jeans as his mouth claimed hers again, hungrily. He felt the soft brush of her fingers as she worked the buttons undone, pushing it open and her warm hands slid over the planes of his stomach, travelling slightly downward towards the buckle of his jeans.

“ah ah…” he said, breaking the kiss and grabbing at her hands. “Your turn…”

“But I’m only wearing one thing…” she pouted, looking up at him. “You’re like…”

“You have an argument for everything…” he said, his hands sliding up the back of her dress, feeling for the zip.

“Do not.” she shot back and he sighed in exasperation.

“Argumentative brat, as always…look, does this thing even have a zip?”

She laughed, “No…”

He reached down to grab the hem, her breath catching slightly as his fingers brushed against her thighs but he didn’t argue as she held her arms up to allow him to pull the dress over her head. Steve gently reached out to brush her tousled, long waves back off her face before he glanced down, swallowing at the sight of her stood before him in heels and a matching black lace lingerie set.

“Fuck…” he mumbled, his hands reaching down to her hips, pulling her back flush to his body, kissing her again. This time when her hands fell to his belt buckle and undid it he didn’t object. He kicked off his boots as she worked his jeans open, her fingers grazing the skin just below his waist band and he bucked at her touch.

“So sensitive for such a big, tough guy…” she teased into his kiss and he gave a chuckle.

“You know I’m a big softie really…” he said

“Nothing soft about this…” she remarked, her hand reaching into her boxers and grasping his painfully hard cock, causing him to buck violently in response.

“Jesus Doll, give a guy some warning…” he stuttered out between his grit teeth.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she shot back.

Unable to take it anymore he moved, stepping out of his jeans and backed her to the bed, hands reaching round to unhook the clasp of her bra. As it fell away he gave another moan at her now bare chest in front to him, perfect pink skin on display.

“God you’re beautiful.” he said, eyes locking onto hers.

“Bet you say that to all the girls…” she teased back.

He snorted “They’re not exactly lining up sweetheart.” “More fool them…” she said, leaning up to kiss him again, her hands snaking round his neck. They both fell back onto the bed with a soft thud, and he moved her gently so she was led under him. She pulled away pushing on his shoulders and looked up at him as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“Socks.” “What?” he frowned.

“Take them off.”

“Katie, I-” “Steven, I’m not having sex with a guy who leaves his socks on.” Katie said, shaking her head “That’s just fucking weird.”

“You’re killing me doll, you know that?” he groaned. He sat up, shaking his head and pulled the offending garments off before he crawled back over the top of her. “Ok now?” “Yeah…” she nodded, grinning.

With a roll of his eyes he dropped his lips back to hers and kissed her again, hands gently tangling in her hair as he held her face still, lips moving from her lips to her jaw line to that spot on the neck he had noticed she’d appreciated him lavishing affection on before. She gave a soft moan, and her hips bucked upwards slightly, drawing a soft growl from his throat at the feeling as she pushed against him. His mouth moved downwards, lips and tongue circling the swell of her breast before he gently took a nipple into his mouth, listening to her soft keens as he teased her, his other hand sliding down over the curve of her hip, fingers brushing the skin just above her panty line. Without a word he slipped his fingers down, over her mound and she groaned again, arching her back.

“Fuck…” she mumbled, “Steve…”

He didn’t waste any time. His deft fingers began to play, coaxing more and more wetness from her as he went. He glanced up to see her head was thrown back against her pillow, eyes shut in utter bliss as she bit her lip.

“Look at me…” he said softly, moving so that his face was hovering over hers again, fingers still working. She opened those emeralds he felt he could drown in and her pupils were blown with desire. His fingers picked up their pace and he slid one, then two inside her, curling against her spot over and over again. He watched as her jaw slackened as her back arched and she let out a low keen.

“Stevie…” she panted “I..”  her words trailed into a low gasp which turned into a groan as her back arched, her eyes fluttered shut and she convulsed underneath him, and he felt her tighten around him. Eventually she relaxed and her breathing evened out slightly and she looked up at him, a soft smile on her face before her hand slid up into his hair, bringing his face down so she could kiss him again.

Then it was a fast scramble to get both of them out of the last remaining, thin barriers of clothing before Steve nestled into the v of her legs, mouth nipping at her collar bone.

“Need you…” she purred into his hear and fuck, did he need her too.

“Need a…” he said, pulling back, fully intending to retrieve that little foil packet he always kept in his wallet, not that it ever saw the light of day mind, but she stopped him and shook her head.

“I’m ok, covered…that’s if…” “Yeah, I’m good…” he nodded, settling back over her. Her hand reached down between them, and she gently guided him towards where she wanted and as he looked up at her, a bit too quickly, his forehead collided with hers.

“Ow!” she spluttered out a giggle and he gave a groan. How was it that she’d managed to reduce him right back to that dumbass little kid from Brooklyn.

“Sorry…” he muttered, but she simply laughed again and pressed her lips to his.

“Don’t keep me waiting…” she said softly.

And Steve, never one for refusing to help a lady out, was happy to oblige. He worked into her with a steady, gently movement which made him shudder, dropping to his elbows over her as she gave a soft moan.

“Ok?” “Yeah…I’m good…” she said as he began to move, his thrusts slow and gently at first, hips rocking against hers. His lips met hers again in a sloppy kiss as she raked her hands down his back, nails digging into the skin, the bite of pain was like a hot wire to his groin and he gave a groan, picking up the pace slightly, her body moving with him with each thrust, skin sliding against skin, the soft sounds of sex and groans and whimpers filled the air and half the time Steve couldn’t tell whether it was her or him.

“More…” she begged softly, and he hooked his hand under her knee, wrapping her leg up round his waist allowing him to drive deeper and she gave a loud mewl underneath him as her nails dug into his shoulders as he moved faster, reading the signs she was giving him, his hips snapping back and forth with a needy desire, the carnal want he had for this woman consumed him and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Come on baby…” he said, his breath ragged on her ear as he gently sucked at that spot again, feeling her writhing underneath him. “I got you, let go…”

His breath caught slightly as she tipped her head to press her lips to his, the kiss heated and he swallowed the loud groan she made before her head fell back her hands gripping to his back as if her life depended on it.

“Stevie…I’m…gonna…” she managed to stutter before her mouth once more slackened and her sultry lament made Steve shudder as her body spasmed underneath him, her leg twitching as he gripped it tight round his waist. Her tight heat gripped him, tightening again and again and he felt the burning deep in the pit of his stomach, the surge of his own orgasm felt like it was rising from his very toes as he drove into her once more.

“Fuck, Doll…” he mumbled, before a guttural rumble erupted from his throat as his hips stuttered slightly before he made another few shallow thrusts until he collapsed forward, burying his head in her neck as the afterglow consumed him.

He had no idea how long passed before he managed to muster enough about himself to raise his head. She still had her eyes closed but there was a satisfied smile playing on her lips, one he couldn’t help but mirror. As he watched her face, the tip of his nose gently resting against hers, her eyelids flickered open and he smiled down at her, gently pressing their foreheads together.

“Ok?”

“Yeah…” her voice was raspy and she swallowed “That was more than ok…” He chuckled as he met her lips in a soft kiss, before he gently rolled off her, laying on his back and reaching down for the duvet which was tangled around their legs. After a short wrestle with it and a bit more giggling they both settled down, Katie’s head on his chest as he lay on his back, his hand softly carding through her hair…

Steve blinked, the sun creeping into his hotel room through the crack in the blinds was warm on his face as he roused into consciousness. Despite knowing he’d simply been lost in a memory he glanced to the side and found the bed cold and empty…just like she had done the morning after that night.

He rolled onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling. Two more rounds they’d gone after that. Once when she’d risen to get a drink, bringing back half a small bottle of water which he’d gratefully drained before she’d taken the empty off him, tossed it to the floor and then kissed him with all the ferocity of a woman in need, a need he’d been happy to once again satisfy. And then again when he’d nipped to the bathroom and climbed back in besides her, pulling her into him, her face gently pressing to his chest. She’d nuzzled her nose up along his sternum to his neck, then across his jawline where her teeth gently skated at his beard. He’d been rock solid again in seconds and as she’d pushed him onto his back, gently straddling him and lowering himself down he remembered thinking it would never get better than it was right then and there…

Steve gave a groan as his head pushed back onto the pale blue pillows of his hotel bed. He was rock solid now as well, the memories consuming him totally. It had been the best night of his life, and then he’d gone and ruined it all…

It was still dark when he woke, Katie’s soft body pressed into his chest, arms wrapped around her from behind, nose buried into her soft hair. Blinking he recovered his senses, shifting slightly as he felt her move a little. She settled almost immediately and he swallowed thickly.

Oh shit, what had he done?

He’d never thought confessing his feelings would get this far! No, actually, he hadn’t thought at all. He should have just ignored it like he had been doing for 10 fucking years. He was her boss…this was bad, really bad. Whilst there were no rules, per-se about relationships between colleagues, hell half the force was married to one another if you thought about it, but getting involved with someone in your command chain was a big no-no.

The more he lay there, the worse it got. If they carried on seeing one another, someone was going to have to move out of the department, and he knew that realistically would be her as it was easier to move a detective than a captain.

And then when you threw the DC opportunity she’d been offered into the mix…if she went, what then? It would end just like it had with Peggy. She’d find someone else, someone there…

No, this was Katie…she was different. He’d talk to her, yeah, that was it. They’d always been honest with one another, so as soon as she woke up he’d talk to her, explain that he did care about her, did want to be with her but they needed to think about how they worked it and … fuck, who was he kidding? This was a mess, a huge mess.

He had to go, had to get out. This was too much to process.

Gently he untangled himself from around her and ran his hands over his face, before he moved as quietly as he could around the bedroom, gathering his discarded clothes. He dressed quickly and efficiently before, with one last glance over his shoulder at her as she lay in the bed still sound asleep, he left.

Steve felt like crying. He should have stayed, should have talked, told her his concerns. Bucky was right, they probably could have worked things out, even with her going to DC. Katie wasn’t Peggy after all. But no, instead he’d done the one thing he swore he would never do, hurt her. He’d left her before she woke, and then ghosted her for days, been cruel and effectively made her think that he’d only been after one thing.

And now, the damage was done. He’d lost his best friend and he only had himself to blame. With a loud, angry curse he swung his legs off the bed was making his way to the shower when there was a knock on his door. He padded over the carpet, glanced through the spy hole and seeing who it was, turned and hurriedly grabbed the pair of sweats that were tossed over the chair in the corner. Pulling them on he swung the door open and Bucky sauntered into the room behind him, paper bag in his hand.

“Morning.” he said, as Steve turned to face him. The Captain still looked half asleep, even if he was, erm, standing to attention, so to speak.

“Good dream was it?” Bucky said, nodding to Steve’s crotch and the Captain glanced down and gave a low groan. He’d hoped that the sweatpants he had pulled on would hide that particular predicament. Clearly not

“Did you want something?” “Wasn’t sure what time we agreed to leave.” Bucky said, offering Steve the paper back. “And I was on my way past back to my room so thought I’d check in…”

“You know breakfast is included in the room rate.” Steve said, declining the offer with a shake of his head “No need to go fruit foraging.” “I like plums what can I say.” Bucky shrugged.

“And to answer your question we’ll leave in half an hour, so if you don’t mind I need to shower and sort myself out…” “You can say that again…” Bucky sniggered, nodding again towards Steve’s trousers. Steve rolled his eyes and headed towards the bathroom. “Oh, Steve…”

The Captain stopped and turned to face his friend.

“Just so you know, water is not a good lubricant. Now shower gel on the other hand is, as long as it ain’t that mint tingly shit.”

Steve blinked, and shook his head “What the fuck, man? “Hey I’m just stating facts” Bucky said. “I got that stuff on my balls once…not good. Felt like someone had dunked them in chilli powder. Was burning for hours.”

Steve groaned and looked at the ceiling, shaking his head as he turned and walked through the door leading to the bathroom, slamming it behind him.

“Backed up…” Bucky snorted, as he left the room, grinning to himself as he ate his plum.

@the-omni-princess  @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld  @cobalt-gear  @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13  @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie  @navispalace @patzammit  @joannaliceevans-fanficblog  @djeniiscorner​  @ayamenimthiriel​  @coldmuffinbanditshoe​  @disneylovingal​ @madzmilllz​  @sgtjaamesbaarnes​ @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​  @southerngracela​ @goldenfightergir​ @kellymat​ @official-and-unstable-satan​

[gryfon-spanish-werewolf]

7. What story/headcanons do you feel the proudest of?

15. What is the fanfic you’ve written that you’re most proud of? 

16. What fanfic tropes do you avoid writing for?

17. What fanfic tropes do you gravitate to writing for? 

20. What feedback makes you the happiest to hear?

21. Is there an idea you’ve always wanted to write, but haven’t yet? 

36. What fanfic of yours has the symbolism you’re proudest of? 

39. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

Fanfic Writer Asks

7) In terms of headcanons (which I wouldn’t say I make often) I think I’m most proud of how I unabashedly use magic in a lot of my stories. Elsa’s magic, Troll magic, Other-magic - if I think something is neat then I kind of just roll with it!

Elsa’s ice magic, in canon has a LOT of uses, but I like pushing the boundaries. Ice-GPS? Check. Icepack for that burn? Check (though who hasn’t xD). Troll magic used for time travel? Check. Troll magic used for Dream-traversal?? Check. Physical embodiment of a strong emotion via magic? Check. Physical, evil appearance of an emotion incarnate via ice magic and troll magic and the POWER OF LOVE? Where’s my BINGO sheet? Cuz check that too.

15) OOF wow, that’s a hard one. I hate to say it but it MIGHT be one that’s not published and is currently sitting on my GDrive >_>;; I’m really proud of my Frozen!StarWars crossover

But of the ones that are published? Either A Banisher’s Dilemma or Great Knight Annatorias, The Abysswalker. I got to be super nerdy and meta on the second one^^

16) I avoid writing smut, I’ve never really been game for it. I’m always amazed that other people can write it, but I never really want to. I also tend to avoid angst, especially if it’s for no other reason than JUST angst. It has it’s place, but I don’t like using it just to get a reaction. (Some of you are already pointing fingers at Spirit - I know I KNOW xD It was a one off, I swear!)

17) I immediately gravitate towards anything SOFT. I love slice of life, I love characters bonding with each other, I love when they have CONVERSATIONS, especially about hard things that they can work through together! I also love “Firsts’”! First meeting, first hug, first confession, first kiss, first hand-hold, first date, first anniversary, etc etc. I love confessions and conversations. On the flip side I really love established relationships? Whatever they are: familial, friends, romantic or marital. There’s something really nice about a a pair or a group already being together. I have no idea where that all fits under your standard trope lists, but those are mine!

20) I absolutely scream if anyone ever quotes my stuff back to me saying stuff like “I really liked this line/paragraph/part because...” and then says why. I lose my mind. I also love when people say “This made me feel X” because I’m just ever so curious about how writing affects people!

Edit bc I forgot: I’ve had one (1) person make me fan art once as “feedback” for a story and I was on cloud 9 for like, shit, a month?? I still think about that person. I legit hope they are living their best life.

21) I wouldn’t say I “always” wanted to write this since I’m WAY too impatient to wait on ideas most of the time BUT I have had this au sitting in my WIPs folder for nearly 6 YEARS and it’s about how the King and Queen of Arendelle are secretly part of a vampire hunting guild. They kill a vampire that snuck into the castle one night but not before it infects their daughter and heir to the throne, Elsa (who’s like, 6 or 8). Even though they’re oathbound to kill vampires, they can’t kill their daughter. The castle is closed similar to post-Accident Frozen 1.

Jumping to modern times, Anna is a history student exploring the mountains of Norway with her classmate, Hans, and a guide, Kristoff, and they are heading for the ruins of Arendelle castle for a research project. Rumors say that despite wars, invasions, thrill seekers, and treasure hunters, a lot of people that go into that foggy area of the fjord waters and forest end up lost and never found. The few that make it out tell tales of strange chills and the feeling of eyes at their backs. Locals know that the headstones of the last living Royals (who died at sea) are still tended to, though no one knows by whom. Anna gets separated from the group and encounters a sleeping Elsa in the castle before sundown. Afraid for the stranger’s safety (it’s winter, it’s cold, and it’s going to be night soon), Anna attempts to wake Elsa, to no avail. Realizing she’s sort of stuck herself, Anna builds a fire and awaits morning (and her own rescue), unknowing that in the last rays of sunlight her “companion” is about to wake. For the worse.

Unrelated to fanfic, I HAVE always wanted to write a story about a girl named Rain (as such for her birth during a terrible storm) that misfortune is heaped upon by the bucketful, so much so that everyone believes she’s cursed, except for her tutor. I want her name have a double meaning that she both slumps and shines under, since rain may bring destruction, but also growth and healing.

36) A Banisher’s Dilemma, hands down. I did SO MUCH RESEARCH for that fic AND I was in a Bible New Testament class at the same time, so I just SHOVED a whole bunch of Christian history, themes, imagery, and references in there. It’s not the only symbolism however, as I mixed plenty of other global and cultural references in there as well. Hard not to, since Anna is literally jet-setting to a new location nearly every chapter.

39) Surprising maybe no one: light humor! My writing is often funny, mostly because I like to make myself laugh :D If I’m not having fun, than what’s the point!? Most often it’s shown off in my one shots or short fiction, but even re-reading some of my longer chapter fics still has me laughing at the same jokes I wrote many years ago.

If not humor than portraying strong emotions. I’ve received too many (generous and loving <3) comments about how pinpoint accurate or visceral my portrayal of joy or sorrow, grief or fear, or love and happiness are to deny it. And that’s much less of a boast and more a humble acknowledgement of people who have written very thoughtful responses to my work, and it would be irresponsible to imply that their words over the years were false in any way.

Thanks for the ask! These are a lot of really good questions!

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 14: Nothing Personal

Summary: Steve confronts Fury about the Lemurian Star mission and the Director reveals just exactly what it is he’s been working on. However, when Fury is later gunned down in Steve’s apartment right in front of the Captain and Katie, the two are forced to run from the very people they’ve called colleagues and friends for years.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Violence.

A/N: I love this edit from @angrybirdcr​

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

Chapter 13

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“You just can’t stop yourself from lying, can you?” Steve seethed as he crossed the floor of Fury’s office.

Nick didn’t even need to ask him what he was talking about. Without turning round the Director spoke calmly. “I didn’t lie. Agent Romanoff had a different mission than yours.”

“Which you didn’t feel obliged to share” Steve pressed, raising an eyebrow as the Director spun in his chair to face him.

“I’m not obliged to do anything” Fury replied simply, looking at him.

“Those hostages could’ve died, Nick.” Steve pressed, holding the man’s gaze.

“I sent the greatest soldier in history to make sure that didn’t happen.” Fury stated, and Steve could feel his temper rising even more. He hated the blasé attitude the Director was discussing the issue with, like it was simply something he wasn’t all that bothered about.

“Soldiers trust each other, that’s what makes it an army.” He said after a short pause. “Not a bunch of guys running around and shooting guns.”

He wasn’t expecting the response he got. Fury leaned forward, frowning as he levelled Steve with a look.

“The last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye.” Fury spoke, his tone steely. Steve cocked his head to one side, crossing his arms but maintaining his silence. “Look, I didn’t want you doing anything you weren’t comfortable with. Agent Romanoff is comfortable with everything.”

“I can’t lead a mission when the people I’m leading have missions of their own.” Steve pointed down at Fury’s desk, stressing his point.

“It’s called compartmentalization” Fury eyed him. “Nobody spills the secrets because nobody knows them all.” Steve snorted silently and gestured at Fury. “Except you.” Fury took a deep breath and levelled Steve with a look. “You’re wrong about me. I do share. I’m nice like that.” Steve frowned as Fury stood up and motioned for him to follow.

“Where are we going?” Steve’s frustration was evident on his tone.

“You’ll see.” Fury stepped inside the elevator. Steve followed. “Insight bay.”

A photo of Nick’s SHIELD ID flashed up on the screen, surrounded by a green light. Then Steve noticed his, but the light was red as the SHIELD computer spoke. “Captain Rogers does not have clearance for Project Insight.”

“Director override, Fury, Nicholas J.” Fury spoke, without missing a beat.

“Confirmed.”

The elevator started to moved downwards. Steve leaned against the rail which ran round the middle of the glass box and clasped his hands in front of him by his belt. Despite his initial annoyance, he had found himself beginning to understand what the Director was saying. SHIELD had so many secrets, many a matter of national security. It made no sense for everyone to know everything, it was a security risk, he got that. But it still irked him.

“You know, they used to play music.” Steve said, his tone softer as he broke the silence, making a joke at his own expense.

“Yeah. My grandfather operated one of these things for forty years.” Fury mused, somewhat nostalgic. “My granddad worked in a nice building, he got good tips. He’d walk home every night, roll of ones stuffed in his lunch bag. He’d say ‘hi’, people would say hi back. Time went on, neighbourhood got rougher. He’d say ‘hi’ they’d say, ‘Keep on steppin’. Granddad got to grippin’ that lunch bag a little tighter.”

The flash into Fury’s personal life surprised Steve somewhat. He cocked his head to one side and looked at the man. “Did he ever get mugged?”

“Every week some punk would say, “What’s in the bag?”

“What did he do?”

“He’d show ‘em. Bunch of crumpled ones and loaded point twenty-two Magnum.” Fury smirked “Granddad loved people. But he didn’t trust them very much.”

Steve had to smirk slightly, thinking that Fury sounded a hell of a lot like his grandpa. He looked down for a second, and when he looked up he was aware that they had now travelled down the side of the Triskellion and were descending further, underground even. As Steve looked around he realised he was in some sort of below building hangar, and he looked out of the glass, spotting three giant Helicarriers. His mouth fell open in surprise, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, I know. They’re a little bit bigger than a point twenty-two.” Fury remarked.

Eventually the elevator stopped and Fury stepped out, Steve hot on his tail as he watched people bustling around the hangar shouting, carrying things, fixing things. The helicarriers were bigger than the one they’d used during the Chitauri invasion, each being able to house at least twenty Quinjets.

“This is Project Insight.” Fury explained as he led Steve across the floor of the hangar. “Three next generation Helicarriers synced to a network of targeting satellites.”

And then Steve understood. “Launched from the Lemurian Star.”

“Once we get them in the air they never need to come down. Continuous suborbital flight courtesy of our new repulsor engines.” Fury stopped underneath one.

“Stark?” Steve asked, frowning.

“Well, he had a few suggestions once he got an up close look at our old turbines.” Fury nodded, as they continued. “But don’t worry, that’s not something Nova is keeping from you.”

“I wasn’t” Steve said honestly, as he looked up and around the hangar. “I trust my girl.”

Fury looked at him before he turned his attention back to the matter in hand and pointed up again “These new long range precision guns can eliminate a thousand hostiles a minute. The satellites can read a terrorist’s DNA before he steps outside his spidy hole. We gonna neutralize a lot of threats before they even happen.”

Steve crossed his arms. “I thought the punishment usually came after the crime.”

“We can’t afford to wait that long.”

Steve could feel the nerve twitching in his jaw. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“After New York, I convinced the World Security Council we needed a quantum surge in threat analysis. For once we’re way ahead of the curve”

“By holding a gun at everyone on Earth and calling it protection?” Steve looked at the director, frowning. He didn’t like this. It smacked of something HYDRA would do.

Fury picked up on his tone and he looked at Steve, arching an eyebrow. “You know, I read those SSR files. Greatest generation? You guys did some nasty stuff.”

Don’t I know it? Steve thought to himself as he took a deep breath. “Yeah, we compromised. Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep so well. But we did it so the people could be free.” He turned and pointed at the helicarriers before looking at Fury “This isn’t freedom, this is fear.”

“SHIELD takes the world as it is, not as we’d like it to be.” Fury stated simply. “It’s getting damn near past time for you to get with that program, Cap”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t hold your breath.” And with that he left.

He changed quickly, eager to put as much distance between him and SHIELD as possible for the rest of the day. After a short conversation with Rumlow about a mission report, he was on his bike and heading for Katie’s apartment, his mind whirling. What was Fury playing at? This wasn’t what he signed up for, at all. It felt so far removed from what he had joined the army to do, to keep people safe, free. Had he really changed that much? He felt a sudden pang for his Howling Commandoes, for Bucky, for Peggy, for Colonel Philips, for all those damned missions which had been simple- destroy HYDRA before they destroyed you.

Despite the fact he had woken up that morning and felt so happy with his girl being there, he couldn’t help but wish life was as simple as it had been back then.

*****

Katie’s morning had been far more productive. She had looked at a couple of transcript extracts her editor had selected. She had to admit, the guy had a good eye for a future blockbuster, and this one she particularly liked. After discussions, they settled on an initial run of two hundred hard copy of the books to be sold online, along with a downloadable kindle version, and if they went they would review how many more we needed.

Pleased with her mornings work and having cleared her diary for the afternoon, she had lunch in the kitchen and had just finished when she heard the elevator door open. She headed into the main area of her apartment to greet Steve, taking a deep breath as she noticed how drained he looked.

“Dare I ask how it went?”

His response was a sigh as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug, simply wanting to feel her close.

“That good huh?” She squeezed him back gently before she pulled away and headed towards the kitchen, him following behind her.

“Debrief was fine. Fury, however, went on about compartmentalisation, the usual crap.” Steve sighed, running his hand over his face, smiling softly to himself when he saw she was gathering stuff out of the fridge to make him a sandwich “And then shared something I really wish he hadn’t.”

“Like what?” she asked, throwing some turkey and mayo onto a sub. “Ever heard of Operation Insight?” Steve looked at her, even though he knew the answer. There’s no way she would have and not told him.

“No?” She handed him the plate containing his sandwich.

“Well apparently your brother has. Thanks.” He took the plate from her sat at the breakfast bar taking a bite of his food. He swallowed and then continued “Three huge hellicarriers that are basically designed to go up in the air and never come down based on Tony’s arc reactor tech. Programmed to monitor potential threats and wipe them out before they get chance to do anything.” She frowned, settling on the stool next to him. “And Fury has sanctioned this?”

Steve nodded, taking another bite of his food. “I don’t like it. Like I said to him, punishment normally comes after the crime.”

Katie could see he was really struggling with this and that his faith in SHIELD was running very, very thin. A lot of what the Agency did was political, not just about keeping people safe. She’d tried to explain that the lines were a lot more blurred than back in the 40s, but still had to admit she was kind of with him. As she pondered for a moment, Steve could see the cogs whirring in her brain, the slight v shape crease that always formed in the middle of her eyes when she was thinking was present. Steve didn’t blame her, it had thrown him too and he’d had the full explanation. The hangar had been huge, and there were enough people in there to make him realise that a LOT of people knew about it. What he didn’t know was who on his immediate team knew about it.

“I just wanna know who I can trust” He sighed, looking at Katie as she reached out gently, touching his cheek.

“I know, Soldier.” she said, softly before she shook her head. “Okay, no more talk about SHIELD or hellicarriers, or whatever.” She moved to pick up her soda. “What do you want to for the rest of the afternoon?”

Steve wanted to go to the Smithsonian. He’d been thinking about it since they had emailed him to invite him to open the exhibit on him, which he had politely declined. But he was curious to see what it was like, curious and also eager, after today, to be reminded of a time when he worked with people he knew inside out, people that he would trust with his life. And he was keen to share that with his girl, the woman who had months ago before they even started dating, been the one to help him pick what the museum would display.

“You know, we’ve still not been to the Smithsonian since they opened the exhibit.” He shruged, hoping his tone was casual enough to make it sound like he hadn’t been thinking about it enough. He failed though, smiling as Katie looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

Busted.

“Call it curiosity.” He shrugged.

“You know what curiosity did don’t you?” Katie quipped back, her eyes flashing playfully.

“What?”

She grinned as she delivered the punchline “Killed the Cap.”

*****

“A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honour, bravery and sacrifice,” the narrator at the Smithsonian museum said as we entered the exhibit.

Steve paused to pull the collar of his blue jacket up a little further, a gesture that, along with the cap that was pulled down over his face, he hoped would prevent him from being recognised as they made their way to the start of the pieces.

"Denied enlistment due to poor health, Steven Rogers was chosen for a program unique in the annals of American warfare. One that would transform him into the world’s first super soldier,” the Narrator continued. Steve paused to look at the display to his right when Katie gently nudged him.

“Think you’ve been rumbled.”

Steve looked down at her, and then followed her gaze as she looked to her left at a small boy dressed in a light blue T-shirt adorned with the design of his shield who was watching the pair of them, his eyes growing wide. Steve smiled, put a finger against his mouth to indicate for him to keep quiet. The boy nodded and then turned, running back off to find his mum.

Without speaking Steve took her hand and led her over to the part of the exhibit that had an older looking motorcycle on a platform and some black and white footage playing beside it. The footage was of him in his older Captain America uniform, also currently on display, running through a battlefield.

“In this rare footage, everyone’s favourite war hero, Captain America…”

He didn’t stop to hear the rest, he could remember that mission by heart. It had been on the outskirts of Toulouse, liberating another HYDRA prison camp. Katie allowed herself to be led by him, this was his moment after all. They slowly walked to a display of mannequins dressed in his original suit, plus those of the Howling Commandos, which had been donated by their families. His eyes lingered on Bucky’s for a second and he took a deep breath.

“Battle tested, Captain America and his Howling Commandos quickly earned their stripes. Their mission, taking down HYDRA, the Nazi rogue science division,”

Katie looked at the uniforms, a smile on her face. She had only seen photos of Steve’s war suit, never seen it in person and it intrigued her. More so because this was something that her dad had made, something physical he had touched. She felt a tug on her hand again, and she looked up to see that she was being led to a section dedicated to Bucky. The familiar (albeit again, only from photos), handsome face of his best friend looked back at them as they wandered over to read what it said in more detail.

“Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were inseparable on both school yard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country…”

The narration didn’t cover half the text on the black, glass screen and in Katie’s opinion it wasn’t a particularly good tribute to a man who had lost his life in such tragic circumstances. She read the rest of the text as Steve’s eyes skated over it, reading, despite the fact he knew it all. He wished he could have saved him, he really did. He’d loved him to have been able to meet Katie. But then, he wouldn’t have anyway. As he would have most likely been dead now. Or what’s to say things may or may not have ended up differently. Would Buck have been on the Valkyrie with him?

He watched the black and white footage playing, where the two of them were talking and then laughing about something and he felt the sadness hit his chest again. And as if she sensed it too, Katie gripped his hand a little bit tighter and lay her head against his arm, her weight giving him something to anchor himself too, and he was grateful for it.

They carried on walking and then they found there was a small cinema area a bit further round the corner playing footage and interviews. Steve paused for a second and then looked at Katie, the question stayed silent. She nodded and together they walked in, taking a seat on one of the benches. There was a bit of introduction footage, and then a familiar face appeared on the screen.

Besides him Katie took a deep breath and whispered a single word “Dad…” and he automatically dropped a hand to her knee, where she placed hers on top of his as the two of them watched her father an animatedly talking to the camera.

“Rogers was different” Howard spoke, smiling, the caption on the screen telling him the footage had been filmed in 1953. “He was constantly striving to do the right thing, with no fear or care for how it would affect him. He, err, when we dropped him behind enemy lines we had no idea if we would see him again. I narrowly escaped myself, the machine guns nearly took our aircraft down but without thought to how he would get back, he told us to leave him behind. When they declared him missing in action the entire company was devastated but, lo and behold… well they can’t keep a good man down.”  Howard paused and then looked down and back up at the camera “I can only hope that if I’m graced with Children, they grow up to be half as driven as he was to do the right thing…”

As Katie looked down at her feet, a stray tear fell down her cheek. Seeing her dad there like that was raw. She knew that Tony felt the loss of their parents far more than she did, she had only been seven after all when they had died and Tony had been her father, if you will, for far longer than her actual dad had. But still, seeing him in front of her so candidly, talking about his hopes for his future children, made something in her chest tighten and she couldn’t help but feel sadness at the fact she never got the chance to really know him. Steve gently squeezed her knee, but then as they looked back up at the screen it was his turn to still as someone he recognised extremely well, her face painted into his memory for life, entered the screen and began speaking, also in 1953. 

"That was a difficult winter. A blizzard had trapped half our battalion behind the German line. Steve, Captain Rogers, he fought his way through a HYDRA blockade that had pinned our allies down for months.” Peggy Carter stumbled slightly through the interview. “He saved over a thousand men, including the man who would become my husband as it turned out. Even after he died, Steve was still changing my life,” And despite the fact that she smiles slightly at the end of this line, it’s clear to see that talking about Steve affected her a lot.

Katie leaned against him and with a breath he lay his head on top of hers. “We haven’t seen her for a while…” she whispered as the video finished. “Shall we go on the way home?” He gave a soft chuckle and dropped a kiss to the crown of her head.

“You read my mind.”

*******

Peggy was pleased to see them, as always when she was having a good day. They both greeted her and after a few pleasantries they told her about their trip to the Smithsonian. Peggy smiled, informing them that she remembered the interview, like it was yesterday, apparently the man interviewing her had been an “utter rogue”, but she didn’t elaborate on what that meant further than saying he was worse than Barnes, which made Steve laugh.  They chatted a little about her time as Director at SHIELD before she trailed off with a sigh as she noticed that Steve was uncharacteristically quiet. After a little gentle coaxing from her and Katie he told her what was on his mind.

“My whole life I’ve just wanted to do what was right, I guess I’m not sure what that is anymore.” He paused for a moment, thinking of how to voice his worries about SHIELD “And I thought I could just throw myself back in and follow orders, it’s just not the same.”

Peggy chuckled as she rolled her eyes and looked at Katie. “He’s always so dramatic.”

Katie let out a small laugh, nodding her agreement. “Tell me about it!”

Steve shook his head, a smile on his face as he raised his eyebrows slightly and looked away as Peggy continued to speak.

“Look you saved the world, we rather mucked it up.”

“No you didn’t. You know, knowing that you helped found SHIELD is half the reason I stay.”

“And the other half being?” Her eyes strayed to Katie who smiled, looking down and then up at Steve as he caught her eye, his hand resting on her knee.

“I quit remember?” Katie reminded her.

Peggy smiled “Indeed, a woman with principles. That I can get on board with. ”Katie gave a little smile as Peggy continued. “Look, the world has changed and none of us can go back.” She spoke softly. “All we can do is our best, and sometimes the best that we can do is to start over.“

At that she started to cough. Steve quickly picked up a glass of water from the table and rounded the back of the chair Katie was sitting in to try and hand her the glass. 

"Peg?” He held the glass out as her coughing subsided and she took a sip. Once she had finished she looked up and stared at Steve as if she was seeing a ghost

“Steve?” Peggy breathed out in an amazed yet broken voice.

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, his heart sinking as he recognised the look in her face. Her memory had gone, again.

“You’re alive! You, you came, you came back,” Peggy whimpered. Tears were gathering in her eyes at this point as she tried to hold them back and Steve was struggling to do the same with his own. One of the smartest, nicest, bravest women he had ever met was being betrayed by an illness that was literally rotting her brain. It was cruel, and every time she did this, they went through the same routine.

“Yeah, Peggy.” Steve responded forcing a smile onto his face as Katie squeezed his hand gently, standing up so he could take the chair next to Peggy.

“It’s been so long. So long,” Peggy started to cry, giving up on holding back her tears.

“I’ll leave you with her.” Katie spoke softly as she gently touched Steve’s shoulder. His hand briefly reached up to lay over hers before he leaned over to take Peggy’s.

“Well, I couldn’t leave you.” He forced himself to smile. “Not when you still owe me a dance.”

Normally that calmed the old lady down, but not today. She was becoming more and more confused and in the end he had to press the call button.

“Again?” The nurse who attended asked softly, and Steve simply nodded.

“I’ll fetch the doctor.”

Outside Katie took a deep breath and headed towards her car. Ex partners could always be an issue in relationships but this was something else, something completely different. She opened the passenger side to the car and sat side on in the seat, door open, legs dangling out. She felt sorry for Peggy, she really did, and her heart ached for Steve. It can’t be easy seeing the woman he once loved, and probably still did in some way, fading like that in front of your eyes.

She ran her hand over her face, rubbing at her eyes slightly and waited as she watched various people coming and going out of the main doors of the hospital. It wasn’t that long before a familiar figure appeared, a flash of white T-shirt standing out against his dark navy jacket and equally dark jeans as he walked towards her, hands in his pockets. She stood up, not saying a word as she wrapped her arms around him and he buried his face into the nook of her shoulder and neck, his safe place, his hands gently resting on her hips as he breathed out a sigh.

“Is she okay?” she asked gently. “Yeah they sedated her.” He said as he pulled away.

“I’m so sorry Steve.”

“What for?” “Peggy…it’s so unfair.” “Yeah…” He replied simply. And it was. He wished things could be different, that Peggy wasn’t ill. That she could be home, with her family, living out the last years of her life with the dignity she had lived the rest of it. She deserved more. He looked over the car roof across the street and watched for a second, everyone milling about their business, getting on with their lives. Like he was, and whilst he wished things had been different for Peggy, he suddenly found himself thinking and wondering if he would change anything if he could.

He felt Katie still in front of him, reacting to the fact he himself had changed posture, and as he looked down at her he was suddenly struck with the answer to his question. Despite everything, despite his sudden feelings of nostalgia sparked by the events of the last twenty hours or so, no he wouldn’t. Because whatever had happened, every action, every decision, it had led him to the girl now in his arms, and he loved her so fucking much it hurt. Yeah he had loved Peggy, he still did in some ways, but it was nothing compared to this. Nothing.

He reached out and took Katie’s hands, pulling up her arms so they were round his neck, pulling her closer to him as his own hands joined at the bottom of her back

“I love you.” He said gently, needing her to understand, to believe him. “My best girl.”

“I hope I’m your only girl, Rogers.”  She sassed back with a sniff, and he smiled softly, happy that she understood.

“How about we head back to mine and not leave the flat for the entire day tomorrow?” Steve looked down at her, the idea suddenly coming to him and her face lit up. Katie loved lazy days. It was rare Steve was in the mood for them, his incessant energy normally meant he had to be doing something. But on the odd time he agreed, it usually involved them staying in bed till about midday, then watching old movies on the TV under a blanket on the couch, maybe a bit of fooling around and then calling a take out before retreating back to bed. Right now that sounded like a damned fine idea. “Can you clear your diary?”

“Consider it cleared.”

“I just wanna make one quick stop on the way home” He suggested, his journey of contemplation was leading him to one more place. He glanced at his watch before planting a kiss on her lips as she looked at him questioningly. “Thought we could pay our jogging friend a visit.”

********

“Look who it is. The running man and his pretty girl.” Sam joked slightly as he came over to the doorway where Katie and Steve were stood.

“Hey.” Katie smiled as he dropped a kiss onto her cheek.

“Caught the last few minutes. It’s pretty intense,” Steve commented as Sam shook his hand.

“Yeah, brother, we all got the same problems. Guilt, regret,” Sam shrugged.  As his sentence went on his voice got more serious and softer.

“Have you lost someone?” Steve asked, perceptive as ever. Katie mentally cursed herself for not filling him in fully, but Sam didn’t seem too bothered to talk about it. He nodded gently.

“My wingman, Riley. Fly in the night mission. A standard PJ rescue op, nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before, till an RPG knock Riley’s dumb ass out of the sky. Nothing I could do. It’s like I was up there just to watch,” Sam paused to cross his arms over his chest, his posture slightly tense. “After that, I had really hard time finding a reason for being over there, you know?”

“But you’re happy now, back in the world?” Steve asked

“Hey, the number of people giving me orders is down to about zero. So, hell, yeah,” Sam joked, loosening up slightly, before getting a bit serious, “You thinking about getting out?”

“No.” Steve replied quickly before he took a breath. “I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t know what I would do with myself if I did.”

“Ultimate fighting?” Sam shrugged and Steve laughed as Katie snorted.  “It’s just a great idea off the top of my head. But seriously, you could do whatever you want to do. What makes you happy?”

Steve turned his head to look at Katie, an unconscious movement, smiling gently as he shrugged. “I dunno…”

“Oh I think you do.” Sam said, smirking slightly as Steve placed his hand on the small of his girl’s back.

“Oh, stop by the front desk on your way out,” Katie turned to Sam, smirking, and he raised an eyebrow in question,

“We asked for you by name.” Steve clarified.

“She seemed thoroughly impressed.” Katie finished. Both of Sam’s eyebrows rose at that and he looked down the hallway towards where the front desk was.

“You two are the best.” A smile stretching across his face as he began to turn to head down the hall. “Stop by anytime.”

“No problem.” Steve grinned in amusement as Sam jogged his way down the hall.

It was gone eight by the time they got home, having made a pit stop for a beer on the way. Steve held the door open for Katie, and she stepped into the apartment building and started to climb the stairs in front of him, giving him a quite pleasing view of her ass as her hips swayed side to side in front of him.

“Sam’s right you know.” She continued their discussion from the bar. “And so is Peggy.”

“What about?”

“If you wanted to get out you could do, start over.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I want, but spending the rest of my life playing janitor for Fury is not it.”

“I can write you a resignation note.” She grinned and Steve chuckled slightly and then took a deep breath.

“You know, it’s funny when I think about it. Us, stuff, what we’ve done and how far we’ve come in a year.”

“You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing.” She teased as she stepped onto his landing.

“No, that’s not what I mean at all.”  He took a deep breath as she headed towards his door and turned to face him “You know, I’ve never really talked to anyone or shown them about my past in detail or introduced anyone to Peggy bar you.”

“Well I am your girlfriend.” She shrugged, holding onto the hand that wasn’t digging into his jeans pocket to fish out his keys.  “Your best girl.” At that he smiled. “So you should be able to talk to me about anything.”

“I know, I’m not explaining myself very well.”  He remarked, finally succeeding in obtaining his keys. And he wasn’t. He was trying to tell her that he couldn’t imagine his life without her, that he wanted her to share his everything, including his home.

“Spit it out Rogers.” She teased as he slid the key into the lock.

He took a deep breath. “Coming home last night and you being there…and then this morning…it was perfect, Doll, and I want that all the time.” He turned to face her leaving his key hanging from the door. “How would you feel about us maybe moving in together?”

She paused for a moment, looking at him, realising he was deadly serious. She raised her eyebrow.

“I thought you came from a time where man and woman didn’t live together until they were married?”

“We could get married if you want.” He blurted out. That made Katie raise both eyebrows as she studied him again, her mouth dropping into a small ‘o’. Steve looked back at her, trying to keep his face passive, as if it had been a joke, even though he knew it wasn’t. He’d known for months she was the one.

But to blurt it out like that? Outside his apartment door, in such a dumbass way?

Way to go, Rogers.

Katie cocked her head to one side, there was a funny look on Steve’s face that she couldn’t place. But whatever it was, even if Steve was serious about them getting married, she knew him well enough to understand that was not how he would want to propose, and that he was probably kicking himself about stumbling it out the way he had done. So she broke the nervous tension, as she always did, with a slight joke.

“You know, that’s not much of a proposal.” She slid her arms up around his neck. “But its one step up from you’d make a great housewife, I suppose.”

“Should I try again?” A cheeky grin spread across his face, glad the tone was playful, his arms circling her waist “Yeah, with a big, fuck off Tiffany diamond.”

“I didn’t think you were so materialistic?”

“Well, you know what they say? Diamonds are a girls’ best friend.”

“And there I was, thinking it was me.” He muttered, his lips pressing onto hers.

“That’s so sweet!” A voice interrupted and they both turned to look at Kate, his neighbour from over the hall. For a split second Steve thought she was talking to them but it soon became apparent she was on the phone. “That’s so nice…but hey, I gotta go…okay bye…”

She dropped the phone into the basket of laundry she was carrying before grinning at us both “My aunt, she’s kind of an insomniac”

Steve smile before looking at the basket of washing in her arms as he dropped his arm round Katie’s shoulder “you know if you want…if you want, you can use my machine. Might be easier and cheaper than the one in the basement.” “Thank you, but I already have a load in downstairs actually, and you really don’t want my scrubs in your machine.” She grinned. “I just finished a rotation on the infectious diseases ward, so,”

“Ah, well, we’ll keep our distance,” Steve grinned, holding his hands up, palms out.

“Hopefully not too far.” She chuckled. “Don’t want to lose my best neighbour. Okay, well I better be off.” She turned to go before she stopped and spun back round to look at Steve. “Oh, by the way, I think you left your stereo on.”

“Right, thank you.” Steve watched her go, frowning. He looked at Katie as they both pressed their ears to the door. The record player was certainly on but…

“We definitely didn’t leave that on before.”  Katie looked at him, as the gentle tones of Kitty Kallen Long Long Time hit their ears.

Steve held his finger up to his lips and gestured to the window, before leaving Katie where he was. He ran off, down the stairs as fast as he could and then he scaled the gate on the fire escape easily. Once he reached the steps which were parallel to his window he took a running jump, easily pulling himself up over the sill and into the kitchen area. Quickly and quietly he moved along the wall, picking up his shield which was leaning against the shelving unit. Holding it up, he cautiously peered round the corner of the room into the living area and instantly relaxed when he saw Fury lounging in a chair.

“I don’t remember giving you a key.” He said, somewhat sardonically.

“What, you really think I’d need one?” Nick replied. Steve shook his head and headed to the front door of the flat, pulling it open.

“Fury.” He said with a roll of his eyes, turning and walking back into the apartment.

“Huh?” Katie asked as she followed him into the living room, where the music was coming from, to see Fury sitting on the couch in the dark.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded.

"Nice to see you too, Nova. And in answer to your question my wife kicked me out.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” She continued, frowning. And she didn’t. And she wasn’t sure that he was.

“There are a lot of things you don’t about me,” Fury replied casually.

“I know, Nick. That’s the problem,” Steve grumbled walking forward as Katie remained where she was, eyes narrowed at her old boss. Steve flipped on the light switch, instantly recoiling in surprise when he noticed Fury’s injuries. Besides him Katie gasped slightly and moved to get closer to help but Fury indicated for her to stop and the both of them to stay quiet. He turned off the light again and typed something on his phone.

'EARS EVERYWHERE’.

Bugs? His apartment was bugged? By who? They both exchanged a glance and instantly Katie looked up and around the room, as if she expected to see a microphone glaring at them.

“I’m sorry to have to do this but I had nowhere else to crash,” Fury looked around a bit before he typed something else up on his phone:

'SHIELD COMPROMISED’.

Steve and Katie shared another glance, the pair of them wide eyed. This was bad.

“Who else knows about your wife?” Steve asked, keeping his voice even.

Fury showed them another text;

'YOU TWO AND ME’.

“Just my friends,” Fury grunted in pain while getting up and walking closer to them.

“Is that what we are?” Katie blinked at him. She still hadn’t completely forgiven the man for lying to them all about Coulson. 

“That’s up to you.” Fury replied, his eyes darting from Katie to Steve.

Then out of nowhere came a rapid succession of gunshots. Steve quickly pushed Katie out of the way, the pair of them taking cover behind the kitchen wall as Fury groaned before he collapsed down to the floor. Steve scooted forward, keeping as low as he could, pulling him into the kitchen. Katie knelt next to him and tried to check his injuries through his black clothing when he reached up and handed something to Steve.

“Don’t, trust anyone,” he coughed before passing out.  Katie and Steve both looked at what he had been handed and saw that it was a flash drive. Steve curled his hand around it and looked at Katie, but before either of them could say anything else there was the sound of someone breaking into the apartment. Steve quickly moved into a defensive position, in front of Katie and Fury, raising his shield.

“Captain Rogers?” a familiar voice suddenly called out and they watched as Kate, his neighbour, cautiously walked in with a gun pointed. “I’m Agent Thirteen of SHIELD’s Special Service.”

“Kate?” Steve frowned, shaking his head. He’d just about had his fill of surprises.

“I’m assigned to protect you.” She continued

“On whose orders?” Katie snapped.

Kate stopped as she spotted Fury lying on the floor. “His,” she dropped besides Katie, checking Fury for a pulse and then spoke into her radio

“Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs.”

“Do you have a twenty on the shooter?” A SHIELD agent questioned through the radio.

Then there was a movement on the other side of the window, on the roof adjacent to the building.  Steve instantly glanced up and saw a flash of silver and the shadow of a figure running across the rooftop.

“Tell them I’m in pursuit.” He said and with that he took a running jump and smashed straight through his window, and through into the office building opposite. Steve ran, keeping his eye on the man, smashing through walls, windows, anything in his way. Eventually he caught up with him on the roof and flung his shield at the assassin who, to Steve’s shock, caught it with one swift move in the hand of his metal arm. There was a pause as Steve could do nothing but eye the man with surprise before the shield came flying back. Steve caught it, with both hands on its rim but the force pushed him back a few yards along the gravel surface of the roof. By the time he had stopped the momentum moving him, the assassin had jumped. Steve ran to the edge of the building and looked down.

He was gone.

*****

“What happened?” Hill asked as they all looked through the glass window at the hustle and bustle of the operating room. Steve moved his arm from around Katie and took her hand in his, squeezing her fingers gently.

"He was at my apartment when we got home.” Steve started. “I hadn’t even had chance to ask why when there were two blasts, then another. Someone shot him through the window- three times. I tried to go after the shooter, but I lost him on the roof of the building across the street.”

Steve had no doubt in his mind that if there was anyone else in SHIELD they could trust right now it was Hill, but both he and Katie kept quiet. He had taken Fury’s warning of trusting nobody seriously and had told Katie as much as they had strode through the ED of the hospital. Both were aware that Hill was studying them, side on, her face stony.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She asked quietly.

“Nothing.” Katie answered for them.

Before Hill could drill either of them anymore, the door to the observation room flung open and heavy footsteps crossed the room, stopping at the other side of Katie.

“Is he gonna make it?” Natasha asked, almost inaudibly, staring through the window.

“We don’t know,” Hill mumbled.

“Tell me about the shooter,” Natasha whispered

“He’s fast and strong. And he had a metal arm,” Steve said, letting go of Katie’s hand to fold his arms across his chest and as he did, they both caught the look of recognition and slight fear on Natasha’s face reflected in the window.

“Ballistics?” She swallowed heavily.

“Three slugs. No rifling and completely untraceable,” Maria answered softly.

“Soviet made?”

“Yeah,” Maria looked at Natasha in shock. Steve turned to face her, as did Katie, but she didn’t look back. She stared straight through to the operating theatre but before Katie could ask what it was that she wasn’t saying, the operation room went into overdrive. Machines started beeping erratically, the doctors and nurses were rushing around the room and the panic was palpable even behind the glass. But they couldn’t save him.

“Time of death, 1:03 A.M.”

A few moments passed as the four of them stood completely in shock. Katie reached up to wipe a tear that had trickled down her cheek away, before Natasha turned and almost sprinted out of the room.

Steve pulled his hand out of his pocket, turning the flash drive that Nick had given him over in his hand. Nick had been killed because he knew whatever it was that was on that drive. What could possibly be so bad, so secret, so dangerous that the Director of SHIELD was deemed a threat for knowing? He glanced up at Katie who was watching him, tears in her eyes. She might have had her issues with Fury, but he was a good man and would never have wished him dead. With a sigh Steve placed the item back into his pocket and pulled her in for a hug.

******

A little later, they were all in the same room as Nick’s body. Natasha was by him, hardly having moved a muscle, almost like she was in shock. And it unnerved Katie. Nat wasn’t one to really show emotion but then again, Fury had meant a lot to her. The door opened and a doctor entered, speaking to Hill. She nodded and then walked over to Katie and Steve, coughing to clear her throat.

“They need to take him.” She said, her voice cracking slightly. Steve nodded and stepped forwards.

“Nat. Natasha…” But at that she turned away from them all and made her way quickly into the corridor of the Hospital. Katie and Steve looked at one another, before they hastily followed her.

“Why was Fury in your apartment?” Natasha span around to ask Steve. Her eyes were filled with sadness, but Katie could also see suspicion etched on her pretty features.

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed shrugging his shoulders, and before the conversation could go on further they were interrupted by Rumlow.

“Cap, they want you back at Shield,” He informed them, gently touching Katie’s shoulder. “You too Nova.”

“Alright, give us a second,” Steve nodded dismissing Rumlow, perhaps a little more harshly than he intended, as he turned back to Natasha but Rumlow was insistent

“They want you now,”

“Alright” Katie spoke firmly but calmly. Rumlow nodded and then moved back down the hallway.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Natasha shook her head at Steve with her trademark smirk that didn’t reach her eyes before she turned and left.

“What the hell is on that drive?” Katie asked Steve after a moment of silence.

“I don’t know, but it’s what Natasha was saving data to on our mission the other day.” He replied before he looked up staring very focused into a vending machine to his right, which was open as a janitor filled it up. He didn’t want to take the drive back to the Triskellion, just in case. He knew that something wasn’t quite right.

Katie caught his eye before glancing around the hallway that was mostly full of SHIELD agents, luckily they were all congregated on the other end.

“Do it.” She nodded, figuring out his intention to hide the item “I’ll distract them.”

Without another look back at him, she began to stride forwards towards Rumlow.

“Its almost four am.” she glanced at her watch. “What do they want us for Brock? We already told Sitwell what we know and I don’t work for SHIELD anymore, remember?”

Rumlow shrugged “Honestly, I don’t know Nova. I’m just under instructions to get you both back to base.”

At that point Steve reached them, but he wasn’t stopping. Taking Katie’s hand he nodded to the STRIKE leader

“Let’s go.”

“Yeah,” Rumlow fell into step with them, fixing his earpiece. “Strike! Move it out.”

Steve drove to the Triskellion, Katie’s car flanked by the Armoured SUVs as they sped through the streets of DC. Katie dozed off for ten minutes and Steve let her sleep, lost in his own thoughts. He had expected her to be called in alongside him, especially after she had been, along with him, the last people Fury had spoken to him before he died. But he wasn’t happy about it, he wanted her as far away from whatever the hell was going on as possible. Once they arrived he gently shook her awake and the two of them were given an hour or so to grab something to eat. Neither were hungry, but they forced down their sandwiches, Katie’s brain working in overdrive as she did so. Something was nagging at her, and she was trying to make the connections, figure it out, but her head simply kept replaying Fury getting shot over and over.

“Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs.”

“Do you have a twenty on the shooter?”

She frowned.

“What is?” Steve asked, coffee in his hand as he sat back on one of the large chairs in one of the common rooms by the kitchen area.

“Before…when Kate…Agent thirteen, whatever the hell her name is called back to base…she said Fury was down and needed EMTs…”

She paused and Steve waited, knowing how her analytical brain worked. She had to follow threads, talk them over or write them out, letting them weave together as she did. A look of comprehension crossed her face as the threads connected.

“Sitwell…” She whispered.

“What about him?” Steve asked. “He was the one that replied, at least it sounded like him.” She bit her lip, but not in the seductive way that made his crotch twitch, the way she did when she was thinking “And he asked…do you have a twenty on the shooter.”

Steve frowned, not quite sure where this was going. “Okay…”  “Well, how did he know Fury had been shot? How could anyone know he had been shot?”

Now he understood. He understood completely. Damned it she was clever. “They couldn’t.” He sat up and leaned towards her, his voice dropping. “Not unless they were there or Kate…whoever, told them.”

“And she didn’t. She just said he was down and unresponsive.” “Which means…” Steve began, but Katie finished for him. “Sitwell knew about the hit. Because he was in on it.”

The both looked at one another, their faces wearing similar looks of shock. Fury was right, SHIELD was compromised. But how far, they had no idea.

Before Steve had chance to say anything else, the door opened and Rumlow stepped in

“Secretary Pierce is ready now guys.” “Thanks.” Katie nodded, shooting Steve another glance as they both stood up.

“Not a word.” He mumbled as they got into the elevator “We say nothing, not until we figure out who we can trust.”

“If we can trust anyone.” She mumbled back.

*****

“Captain, why was Nick in your apartment last night?” Secretary Pierce looked at Steve as he sat on the couch next to Katie in the large office.

“I don’t know.” He answered in a soft voice.

“Did you know it was bugged?” Pierce pressed on.

“We did.” Katie nodded meeting the secretary’s eye. “Because Nick told us.”

“Did he tell you he was the one who bugged it?”

Steve took a breath and glanced at Katie, his expression stony but the two of them shared the understanding.

No, no he had not.

“I want you to see something.” Pierce continued, and gestured to a monitor just behind the couches we were sitting on. On the screen was a man tied down to a chair, he looked to be currently being interrogated. Katie didn’t recognise the man, but Steve did.  It was Batroc, the lead merc from the hijacking of the Lemurian Star.

“Is that live?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, they picked him up last night in a not so safe house in Algiers.”

“Are you saying he’s a suspect?” Steve didn’t take his eyes off the screen “Assassination isn’t Batroc’s line.”

“It’s more complicated than that. Batroc was hired anonymously to hijack the Lemurian Star. He was contacted by email and paid by wire transfer, and then the money was run through seventeen fictitious accounts. The last going to a holding company that was registered to a Jacob Veech.” Pierce said handing Steve a folder.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Steve skimmed through the file offered to him in curiosity and confusion.

“Not likely. Veech died six years ago. His last address was 1435 Elmhurst Drive. When I first met Nick, his mother lived at 1437.”

“Wait,” Katie frowned as she gathered what Pierce was suggesting. “Are you saying Fury hired the pirates? Why?”

“The prevailing theory?” Pierce shrugged. “The hijacking was a cover for the acquisition and sale of classified intelligence. The sale went sour and that led to Nick’s death.”

“If you really knew Nick Fury you’d know that’s not true.” Steve replied strongly, and he believed it. Fury was a lot of things, but a traitor he was not.

Pierce nodded in agreement. “Why do you think we’re here talking?” He then got to his feet and began to walk towards the window. “See, I took a seat on the council not because I wanted to, but because Nick asked me to because we were both realists. We knew that despite all the diplomacy, and the hand shaking and the rhetoric, to build a really better world sometimes means having to tear the old one down. And that makes enemies.”

Steve didn’t like the way this was going. He looked at Katie and gestured for her to stand as he did. Pierce turned back around and looked at them both.

“Those people that call you dirty because you’ve got the guts to stick your hands in the mud and try to build something better. And the idea that those people could be happy today,” Pierce shoved his hands in his pockets. “Makes me really, really angry. Captain, you and Miss Stark were the last ones to see Nick Fury alive. I don’t think that’s an accident.” Pierce said matter-of-factly. “And I don’t think you do, either. So, I’m going to ask again was he there?”

“He told us not to trust anyone.” Steve said honestly.

Pierce made a humming sound. “I wonder, if that included him.”

There was a tense moment of silence before Steve spoke again. “I’m sorry. Those were his last words. Excuse us,” He turned to leave, picking up his shield that he sent down upon our arrival and attaching it to the harness on his back, before ushering Katie out of the room slightly ahead of him.

“Captain,” Pierce’s voice halted him mid step and he turned to look at him. “Someone murdered my friend. I’m going to find out why. Anyone who gets in my way is going to regret it.” Pierce’s voice rang out again, a pointed look in their direction.

Steve wasn’t a stupid man, and he knew that was a veiled threat. He took a deep breath, considering his response, before he decided appearing un-rattled was the best option.

“Understood.” He nodded, holding the door open for Katie to step through keeping himself between her and Pierce as he followed, anchoring his hand on her back to keep her moving.

“You should have lied.” She whispered.

“Huh?” “Back then, said we didn’t know why Fury was there. By telling him that he told us not to trust anyone he knows we know and that we’re hiding something.” Her tone was a little panicked and Steve simply took a deep breath.

“We need to get to the hospital and get that stick.” He looked at her, remaining  adamant that whatever it was that was on there would hold the answers. He looked up and down the corridor before they stepped into the elevator.

“Operations Control” Steve spoke as the elevator scanned his face and Katie’s Guest ID.

“Confirmed”

Just as the doors were about to close, Rumlow stepped in with two other STRIKE agents.

“Keep all STRIKE personnel on site” He was saying.  Both the agents nodded and voiced their acknowledgement of his order. “Forensics.” 

“Confirmed.”

“Cap, Nova…” Rumlow nodded to them both.

“Rumlow.” Steve acknowledged him as the doors closed and they started to descend.

“Evidence Response found some fibres on the roof they want us to see.” Rumlow turned his head to look at Steve. “You want me to get the tac-team ready?”

“No, let’s wait and see what it is first.”

“Right.” Rumlow turned back and Steve looked out of the side of the elevator, pondering what his next move was. Chase down the man responsible? The drive? The elevator stopped at the next floor and Rollins plus a few more SHIELD and Strike agents entered, Steve moving over slightly to allow them in.

“What’s the status so far?” Rollins was saying.

“Administrations level” another one asked, before they continued whatever it was they were talking about, moving round to find a space behind Steve and Katie.

He noticed Katie look round, a frown on her face, but before he could say anything Rumlow spoke, looking over his shoulder at Steve.

“I’m sorry about what happened with Fury. Messed up, what happened to him”

“Thank you.” Steve nodded.

Katie could sense something was off. Years of training as an Agent didn’t just leave you when you quit, and those years of training had taught her very well to read body language. Rumlow was alert, too alert, and it was more than just a nervousness because Fury had been killed. There was an atmosphere in the lift, and she glanced at one of the agents that had joined them at the last floor. He was still talking, normally, but he there was a bead of sweat dripping down his cheek from his temple.

Steve could sense it too. He watched as Rumlow and Rollins exchanged a glance and looked down at Katie who was watching him, nervous expression on her face. He shook his head gently, instructing her to keep calm.

The elevator stopped and another agent entered.

“Records”

This one stood in front of them, facing the elevator doors and it was then with a slight air of exasperation at allowing it to happen, Steve realised they were surrounded. Whilst he wasn’t too concerned, he knew he could more than likely fight his way out, it was his girl he was bothered for. It had been months since she had been in active combat, and this was going to be brutal. Besides him Katie stiffened, feeling very underprepared for what was about to go down. She had no weapons, nothing. Instinctively Steve gripped her hand and pulled her forward so she was stood next to him instead of behind and moved his feet apart slightly, hands on the buckle of his belt, adopting his Captain stance, preparing for what was coming.

“Before we get started,” he sighed, looking down before he stared straight ahead, “does anyone want to get out?”

His eyes flicked to the back of Rumlow’s head. There was a moment’s pause before all hell broke loose. They both put up a good fight, ducking, diving, punching. Steve was then shocked with a baton, but he simply grit his teeth, absorbing the electricity into his body. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. And then, three of them managed to snap one of his arms to the wall of the elevator using some kind of metallic clamp, before five of them piled on him at once, attempting to pin his other arm in too. He kicked out, taking down as many as he could.

Just as Katie had floored the second of the agents who had launched at her, she was grabbed from behind by her hair and hauled to the edge of the elevator, being wrestled roughly to the floor by Rumlow who was instantly on top of her, trying to get her wrists from where she had positioned them underneath her body in an attempt to stop them restraining her.

"Brock…” She spoke gently, looking at him as she swallowed. “What’s going on?” “I’m sorry Stark.” He shook his head. “Just following orders.”

“Yeah well follow this.”  She snarled, the anger brewing in her as she jerked her head forwards as hard as she could, feeling it connect with his nose.  He yelled, and then her head snapped painfully to the right as he back handed her straight across the face. She felt her lip split and the warm, metallic taste of blood hit her taste buds, stars flashing in front of her eyes as her ears began to ring from the harsh knock.

Steve saw Rumlow land the blow to Katie’s face and let out a growl of anger and aimed another kick at the final agent standing, causing them man to collide with the side of the elevator before slumping down. He turned, pulled on his arm as hard as he could, wrenching the cuff off the side of the elevator and looked up in time to see Katie, who was now pinned against the wall by another set of those damned cuffs, take a blow to the ribs from Rumlow causing her to cry out in pain.

“Rumlow!” Steve yelled causing the man to whip his head round, surprise on his face. Katie, using her arms as leverage, swung her legs upwards, kicking Rumlow with both feet. The STRIKE leader stumbled slightly as Steve snarled at him, his entire body and face alight with rage “Touch my girl again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Rumlow got to his feet, holding one of his arms out, electric rod in his hand “Whoa, big guy. I just want you both to know, this ain’t personal.”

He then lunged at Steve with his electric rod but one on one Steve was easily able to defend himself, he moved to the right, dodged and grabbed Rumlow, throwing him harshly upwards where he crashed into the ceiling of the elevator, before falling to the floor, unconscious.

“Yeah well, it kind of feels personal” Steve said, his breath slightly ragged from the exertion. He used his foot to flip his shield over like a Frisbee, catching it perfectly.

“You alright?” Steve asked, stepping over the bodies that littered the floor of the elevator to get to Katie.

“Yeah.” She assured him. Steve cut the cuffs that were restraining her into two pieces with his shield and she bent over, his hands gently on her back as she rubbed at her side before straightening up and stalking over to where Rumlow was beginning to stir slightly. She kicked him hard in the face, causing him to flip backwards and he was out, unconscious.

“Nothing personal.” She spat, then looked up at Steve. There was a moment during which they both looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened, before the elevator doors opened and Steve pulled Katie sharply behind him. They both stared at a team of STRIKE agents pointing their weapons into the elevator. Steve raised his shield.

“Drop the shield! Put your hands in the air!”

Steve looked round, and spotted the elevator wires to the left of Katie’s head

“DUCK!” he yelled at her, and as she did, he swiped with his shield over her head sending them plummeting. Eventually the emergency brake systems kicked in and the elevator stopped, slightly misaligned with the doors by a few feet. As Katie bent down to retrieve a gun and some ammo off one of the Agents, Steve forced the door open, intending to climb out but more STRIKE agents were approaching. He closed the door again and looked at Katie, then around the glass walls, looking down below us at the glass roof of the main Triskelion atrium.

It was a long way but they could make it.

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” Katie exclaimed, realising exactly what he was thinking.

“Give it up, Rogers! Get that door open! You have nowhere to go!” came the yell from the floor outside the elevator door.

“Do you trust me?” Steve asked, both his hands cupping Katie’s face.

“Of course I do, but…”

“Then hang on…”

She sighed and jumped onto his back, swinging her legs round his waist and her arms round his neck. Steve raised his shield in front of him, before he propelled them forward and broke through the glass in the elevator, spreading his arms out wide as he fell to prevent them from tumbling through the air before tucking his body as tightly in to his shield as he could. Katie did the same, burying her head into his back as they crashed through the glass ceiling and hit the floor with a loud clang, to screams and shouts from people all around the atrium.

Katie gave a soft groan, rolling off Steve who moaned and stretched out, having been winded from the impact. But Steve knew they had to keep moving. With a monumental effort, he pushed himself up onto his knees, took a deep breath and offered his hand to Katie to help her stand. They both took a quick glance around before he started to run, pulling her with him. She stumbled slightly, but Steve kept hold of her, not letting her fall until her legs seemed to be working again.

And then they ran.

**** Chapter 15

**Original Posting**

[gamesis426]

Gaming pc, where to buy near me

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