#if i were to do it as an if fic i would probably do it about irvin bc his powers is lightning

[hedwig221b]

You are amazing ✨✨✨

Do you have any feral Derek fic recs?? Especially if he’s stuck as a wolf?? Bonus points if Stiles thinks he’s just a big friendly dog 🥹

Hi, love! Thank uuu! I absolutely love feral wolf Derek, it always delivers. Here's a very long rec list, enjoy!

Waiting by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Not wanting to think on it too much, Stiles took a step forward and passed his hand between the bars, moving the bleeding side closer to Derek’s mouth. “Not too close, he bites.” Stiles snatched his hand away just as Derek had been about to lick at it. The snarl he got in response was not comforting. “He what?” Stiles asked nervously, turning to Deaton. The man looked a little amused. “Don’t worry, only if he doesn’t like you.” “Well, he probably hates me, now!” Stiles insisted, turning back to Derek.

He looked extremely displeased.

You're My Sanctuary by lilmissdaydreamer

The Argent Wolf Sanctuary. It’s been Stiles’ dream since he was five years old to work with the wolves, ever since his mother took him up there to see the magnificent creatures on one of their ‘full moon runs’ that the Sanctuary does once a month. The wolves are beautiful and much larger than Stiles would’ve thought, or at least, the newest wolf is. The owner had said he’s a special breed. Stiles just didn’t realize quite how special he is.

Stuck in This in Between by calrissian18

“You’re not getting better, Derek.” And it was the first time he’d called him that since he’d realized he wasn’t really.

The Feral Alpha by halcyon1993

Derek has lived in a half-feral state in the wilderness ever since hunters killed his family. When the hunters return years later, he gets his revenge and finds his true mate in one of the boys they were holding captive. He claims him immediately.

Safe Mind by LadyDrace

Derek goes missing for a while and comes back full wolf. Only problem is that his mind has gone wolf too, and for some reason the only one he'll allow near him… is Stiles.

Of Blood and Feral Wolves by Flicker_Ash

After Stiles is hurt in a surprise attack, Derek's wolf takes over and won't let anyone near him. Doesn't matter if it's Scott or a paramedic, when there's blood and no sarcasm, no-one's touching Stiles.

Light at the end of the tunnel by Lesatha

“Careful, Stilinski. Don’t think you can go around telling me what to do, or coddling the werewolf.” “What does it matter to you?” “If the feral alpha kills you, it will be my fault, as your supervisor.” Stiles’ head whipped towards the werewolf. He couldn’t see much of him apart from his red eyes, always following Stiles. Crazy as it might sound, it comforted him. The werewolf wasn’t the rabid animal Elis seemed to picture. He was just… hurt.

Feral by melofttroll

Scott’s yelling now as the Jeep comes to a halt, and Stiles ignores him as he clambers from the seat. The skid turned the Jeep completely around, and his headlights are pointed at something that is decidedly not dog-ish, or bear-ish, but very, very human. And by the shuddering breaths coming from the man’s chest, very much alive. Feral!Derek, Sterek AU

Lessons in Humanity by exclamation

Fleeing from werewolves, Stiles comes face to face with Derek, a werewolf human in shape but animal in his mind. Stiles is terrified of being killed, but it seems Derek has decided Stiles would make a suitable mate. Unfortunately, his idea of a romantic gift is a dead animal on the doorstep. Stiles must help Derek remember what it is to be human… and figure out how to explain his new werewolf stalker to his dad.

Throw Away the Key by mommymuffin

Stiles knew it was stupid to go to the hunters’ headquarters all by himself, so when he finds himself caught, he can really only blame himself. It shouldn't surprise Stiles when the situation quickly goes from bad to worse as the hunters throw him to a feral werewolf waiting to tear him apart. Sucks that it's Derek, though.

Thanks for Thumper, But I Prefer Cheeseburgers by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

The wolf’s head whipped around so fast, Stiles felt like he was watching The Exorcist. Stiles wondered if he could just stand still enough to make the wolf think he was a tree. A very bright red and jean-clad tree. He doubted it, but one could hope. He knew it was a lost cause when the wolf turned fully, lips pulled back from its sharp teeth—so very sharp, good fucking Lord!—and began walking towards Stiles. “I didn’t see anything!” Stiles shouted, both hands out in front of himself and sweat instantly breaking out across his skin. “I swear to you! I didn’t see anything! I didn’t see anything! I won’t tell anyone! I won’t! I’ll keep this to myself, until the day I die! I promise! I promise!”

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life. There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

Hallowed Grounds by damnfancyscotch

Everything in Beacon Hills is the same when Stiles comes home from college. Well, except for the fact that he's a published author now, Scott is halfway across the world with a travelling circus, Erica's epilepsy has been cured, her boss offers him a job too, and there's this weird black dog that seems to be following him around just to judge him. Oh, and the murders, of course. But other than that stuff… totally the same old BH.

There Are No Wolves in California (Werewolves on the Other Hand…) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella), KioFox

“I’m not calming down until you call animal control! I fucking saw it! There were fucking wolves!” “There are no wolves in California, Mr. Daehler,” the principal said, sounding exasperated, like this was the third time she’d said it to him. “Well clearly there are!” he shouted back, showing such a lack of respect for the woman, Stiles had to applaud her for her fortitude not to smack him in the face. “Perhaps you were mistaken,” she said calmly. “No I wasn’t fucking mistaken,” Matt insisted, sounding incensed. “No way these were dogs, they were massive!” For a second, Stiles felt like the world had slowed considerably as those words wormed their way into his brain. Because—he knew a dog that was massive. Honestly, he’d also brushed away the idea of the dog being a wolf because there were no wolves in California. But… what if there were? Holy shit, had Stiles literally spent his lunch break with a fucking wolf cuddled into his side while he pet it?! Good God, he was lucky to still have all his limbs!

Where the Real Beasts Are by kaistrex (weishen)

Crown Prince Stiles is gifted a direwolf on his eighteenth birthday by King Gerard I of Venatia. The only instruction? Never remove the collar. Stiles never has been one to do as he’s told.

The Soul Knows What the Heart Wants by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“Holy—shit,” Stiles breathed, Bacon stopping in what he was doing, still staring at him intently, as if begging him to understand, for someone to finally understand. Stiles felt like he’d been electrocuted and he leapt out of his chair, kneeling in front of Bacon and grabbing at his furry face. “Holy shit! Oh my God, are you—wait, holy—you’re not fucking with me, right?!” Bacon let out two quick barks, which Stiles chose to interpret as ‘no.’ "Oh my God, are you a real person in there?!” Stiles shouted in the wolf’s face, staring him right in the eye. He was still holding the wolf’s head with both hands, but Bacon dipped his muzzle in confirmation and Stiles officially lost his mind. “Oh my God!” he shouted again, releasing Bacon to clutch at his own hair. “Oh my God! Dude, for real?! You’re—holy shit! Holy shit!” He didn’t know how to react to this news. He had no fucking idea how to react. This was a person?! But how?! How was this a person?! People didn’t just turn into wolves!

Rabbit Hearted by secondstar, Tsuminoaru

Storytellers were known for their talented tongues, their ability to weave tales and enthrall the listener. Their stories held weight, taken as truth as they were passed down from generation to generation. A tale of a cursed pack of wolves was one such story that Stiles had known since he was a child. Never did he think that he would become part of that tale, or that its weight would be up upon his shoulders. A tale of curses, sacrifices, and acceptance of one's inner self.

Being Close to You by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Realization dawned and Derek cursed himself viciously. How could he be stupid enough to forget Scott was a Werewolf? He could fucking smell him! Scott knew it was him! “Stiles?” Scott asked uncertainly while Stiles started opening and closing various cabinets, looking for who knew what. “That’s not a d—” Derek snarled and let out a loud bark, eyes glowing blue in Scott’s direction since Stiles couldn’t see him from where he was standing. Scott scowled at him, moving closer to him and inhaling pointedly. “What are you doing here, Derek?” Scott asked, voice low enough that Stiles wouldn’t hear. He wasn’t listening anyway, still panicking and randomly opening things.

(You) Bring Out the Beast (In Me) by Ember

“Should I make out the wedding invitations?” Stiles swallowed his mouthful of soda.”What?” Lydia smirked. “Well, you and Derek have seemed awfully cozy lately. Just wanted to be supportive.” “Oh, yeah, because that’s exactly why I went into wildlife preservation.” He rolled his eyes. “Beastiality jokes.” +++ Aka the one where Derek is a wolf and Stiles is his trainer, and then magic and transformations and feelings happen.

A Boy’s Best Friend by KnottheWolf

Stiles was just having some ‘me time’ when things escalated with his dog, Wolf. Or at least, he thinks it’s a dog.

"good boy" by quackquackcey

Stiles doesn’t think his senior year can get any worse with his best friend turning rabid every full moon, until he finds himself stuck with a massive black wolf overnight that doesn’t even like jerky. But on the bright side, the hot guy with the half-dying sister he met at the gas station seems to be in town for a bit, so there’s still a chance that his senior year, his supposed best year of high school, isn’t a complete lost cause…right? That is, if he can manage to juggle the sassy wolf that he takes care of at night and the hot guy that asked him out on a date for some reason.~ 🐺🍕

Other fic recs: angsty fics | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles

[lavenders388]

hey :) I was wondering if you could do a Dae ho fic, where he and the reader are absolutely oblivious to their feelings and Jung-bae decides to do what he can to push them together (the ultimate wing man) Thanks

~Oblivious~

Kang Dae Ho x Reader

requested 💌

a/n: this is the cutest request ever:) i love jung bae and dae ho together and this is such a sweet idea! sorry if this seems a bit rushed!! i wrote it before school:3

"during lights out, we should keep watch over the group in pairs." gi hun states sternly. he is met with some mumbled "why?"s, but out of desperation and lack of anything else to follow in the place, everyone has silently agreed to just go with what he says.

as the recorded voice echoes throughout the large, intimidating room you all will call home for the night, you look around to who could be your second for watch duty. you think about choosing maybe guaem ja or her son as they have become the closest to you, closest to friends.

"hey y/n, you watch with dae ho tonight." you hear from the bunk next to you. you look and see it to have come from jung bae, the man who knows gi hun from before the games. you've grown to trust him as well, his genuineness aiding in delivering moments of relief from the awful place you've all found each other in. you notice he's trying to hide a smile.

"okay sure!" you say with a small smile, relieved to know what the plan is for the night as well as to have someone to spend it with. the thought of not being alone relieves your fear massively, and then thought of dae ho being your partner made your twinge.

"may i stay here until it's my turn?" you ask gi hun, referring to your bunk that's across the X side of the room. "yes of course, it wouldn't be safe to walk all that ways in the night." gi hun replies. the reminder of the unsafe situation makes your skin crawl thinking about what could come throughout the night.

all you want is to just go home, but knowing that home wouldn't be much better makes your spirit falter. you've grown to enjoy being apart of your group, the community being something very starkly different than what you're used to. you had a few friends before coming to the game, but you were never super close. they probably haven't even noticed you're missing yet. as the brisk thought of them not having a clue of your whereabouts crosses your mind, you look around to the group who decided they would protect you throughout this before even knowing you. they're all talking amongst themselves, joking and being kind. its refreshing. it makes you forget all about where you are.

you decide that when you're out you wont be notifying your friends back home. you'll take the money and spend your time with the people you're with right now, the people who chose to care for you out of the kindness of themselves.

thinking about this makes you realize how much you don't want to stop spending your time with these people. your thoughts are interrupted by a soft hand on your shoulder. you turn and see dae ho.

you smile at him, and listen as he begins to tell you why he got your attention. "we should stay close together until its time for our watch. would you like to sleep in the bed next to mine?" he says with his normal confidence, all though you notice his voice faltering a bit when he asks you to sleep next to him. "of course dae ho, thank you for asking." you say smiling at him again.

"actually would you guys be okay taking the first watch, it would probably be the safest one." you hear from above you as you see jung baes head poking out of one of the taller bunks. you both agree and get out of bed heading to where gi hun designated the watch point of your little base.

after you get settled, an awkward silence falls on you. "do you really think that people will try to fight us tonight?" you ask dae ho in a whisper, trying to start a conversation but also speaking your worry in a way that might make you feel better. "I'm not sure, but gi hun said that's what happened last time. he didn't say it was every night though, so maybe we'll be okay tonight." he says in a soft but still confident tone. it makes you feel safer, knowing that fighting may not even break out tonight. his voice comforts you as well.

"what do you plan on doing with the money when you get out?" you ask him, looking up at him for the answer. "well first i would pay off some debts, then i think i would buy a house, or even an apartment depending on how much i get. and then after that i haven't really thought of anything." he says with a chuckle that brings a smile to your face. "what about you, y/n?" he asks you. "honestly the same as you. like exactly. I wanna pay off whatever I can and then settle down somewhere. and then I'm not sure." you say to him with a smile. you think its funny you both have the same plan.

"i think thats a great idea y/n." he says to you softly and genuinely. you've grown to really appreciate the way he speaks to you, to everyone. you smile at him again as another awkward silence falls over the two of you. "if you make way more than what you think you will, then what do you think you would do?" he asks sweetly, caring for your answer as well as to dissipate the silence. "I have no idea!" you say a little louder than you should've, with a hint of sarcasm. "i think maybe id get like a cool car or something i don't know." you say laughing at yourself. your laugh makes him smile.

"what would you do dae ho?" you ask him in return. "i might start up a business or something, like maybe a coffee shop or a little market." he answers. you find this endearing. "that's really interesting!" you reply. "that sounds really fun, maybe ill do that as well."

"maybe we could do it together."

he states, his mood shifting from small talk to something more.

"i would really like that." you reply.

"hey lovebirds its our turn to watch." jung bae says laughing with gi hun from behind the two of you. you wonder how long they've been standing there.

as you crawl back into the bed next to him, you begin to hope there was truth in jung baes words.

[capitanoidyll]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 13 | What Belongs to Him

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

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You originally thought that sleep would be hard to come by, however, you were proven wrong when you woke up the next morning. Your body feeling better than yesterday thanks to the medicine that Luocha gave you. Sitting up in bed, you looked around your room, and then to your bedroom door. Your room, as far as you knew was your only safe haven and a place you could hopefully let your guard down. Though, you still worried… what if someone was in here right now hiding? You closed your eyes and tried to listen carefully, but you couldn’t pinpoint anything.

Moze has definitely left an impression on you…

Shaking your head after a few moments, you finally got out of bed. There was a dull ache in your legs and back, but it was bearable thankfully.

Now, Jing Yuan said my maids will help me today, but… ever since coming here no maid has ever made such an effort. Maybe once or twice, but that was about it. Probably because they don’t like me all that much.

You sighed at your thoughts and went for your wardrobe. Opening the closest doors, your eyes roamed over your dresses. Wait… are there more in here than before? You decided not to question it as you went for a dress that just so happened to be your favorite color. If Jing Yuan asks about it, then you could just say that he had said that it was your favorite color and that you could understand why you liked it so much now that you see it in person. Now, putting the dress on proved to be a hassle but you managed… somehow.

“Ok… so now what?”

You looked to your bedroom door again. Do you even risk it? Then again, it definitely beats staying in here all day.

So, gathering nay courage that you had, you went to your door.

“Ok, so I’m a princess with amnesia, and I’m to be married to the Emperor. In other words, I should act like I own the place, right?”

Steeling yourself, you opened the door and stepped out of your bedroom. Looking left and then right, you decided to head right. (You knew that the kitchen and dining room were that way, but you would just tell anyone that asks that you took a guess on which way to go.)

Walking down the halls, you noticed how some of the maids avoided you, not that you minded. You didn’t particularly want to talk to them either. It wasn’t until you passed by the stairs that you fell down that you stopped.

Thinking about it now, this means you fell down these stairs twice, right?

I hope I don’t make it three…

“y/n.”

You jumped a little and spun on your heel to look at who had spoken to you, but the voice was distinct. You already knew who it was.

“Yuan?”

The Emperor was smiling at you, “I’m surprised that you’re already out of bed,” he said as he came to stand next to you his eyes shifting from you to the stair case.

“Well, I know you said my maids will assist me, but no one ever came to check up on me, and…,” you shifted from foot to foot, “since I’m to marry you…. I thought I was allowed to walk around. Did I- did I mess up?”

Jing Yuan chuckled softly as he held out his arm for you. Taking a moment to realize what he was doing, you hesitantly wrapped your hands around his arm. One hand on his bicep and the other on his forearm. Once you gotten a hold on him, he started to go towards the stairs and with a shaky step from you, you both began to descend the stairs.

“You’re allowed to go anywhere your heart desires within my domain. Though, I do ask that you be escorted.”

You wondered if he could feel your fingers tremble against his arm. His arm, to which you noticed was lined with taught muscle. Focus, y/n, focus!

“I- I’m sorry, no one was by my door either…”

“I know, Blade, your bodyguard, was taking care of some business for me. He’ll be by your side again after breakfast.”

“Then is that why you were coming down the hall? To come get me?”

You saw a glint in his eyes as he smiled at you.

Once down the stairs, you went to let go of his arm, but he raised his other hand to keep your hands where they were. You looked back at the steps.

“Was this the staircase I fell down?”

Jing Yuan looked to where your eyes were watching, “yes, it was. Do you remember anything?”

You shook your head, “I just.. have a feeling is all,” you looked back up at Jing Yuan as he turned his gaze back to your face, “how about the one who pushed me… I heard it was.. a maid?”

“Yes,” you could hear the sigh in his voice, “a maid, but I wouldn’t worry about her. She has been properly dealt with.”

You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine. While you were sleeping in bed… some maid was getting killed.

“But why not give her a punishment instead?”

Jing Yuan hummed thoughtfully as he dropped his arm causing you to let go of his bicep and forearm.

And all too quickly he was in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks as his thumbs pressed right under your jaw and tilting your head up. You could feel the way your breath hitched and how your heart seemed to skip every other beat.

“Because little sparrow, I truly despise when someone damages what belongs to me.”

He let one hand fall from your cheek to rest against your throat. His fingers encircled your throat with careful precision as he leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips that contrasted with the way he held you in place. And all too soon his hands didn’t feel to domineering or suffocating as he moved them to slide down your arms and to your hips. His lips slowly detach from you as you silently caught your breath.

“Now, princess, let’s go eat breakfast. I was sure to tell the chefs to cook your favorites.”

He was going to kill you again; you were sure of it.

Taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[tinum]

Can I request a fix where reader had heart surgery and they are kinda loopy after the anesthesia and just flirt with harumasa??? Ok it's not realistic to meet someone directly after surgery but I think it would be cute XD

Heartbeat - Harumasa x Reader

Warnings: Little bit of angst, probably incorrect portrayal of heart surgery, errors WordCount: 966 Notes: I felt like readers personality was closer to his in this fic but its okay because he was just worried!

When Harumasa first heard about your surgery from Soukaku, he could barely contain his anxiety. Thoughts of all the complications swirled in his brain, prompting him to reach for his phone with a shaky hand. He immediately texted Yanagi that he would not be going in to work for the day. She understood your situation, and though she wanted to respect your wishes, she knew Harumasa wouldn't back down. Not when it came to you.

Harumasa was no stranger to hospital visits; in fact, he was quite friendly with the staff. He knew the ins and outs, the sterile coldness, the checking in, the waiting. He sat for what seemed like hours, his leg bouncing in place and a deep pit in his stomach. Whenever a door opened, he would snap out of his trance, hoping it would be your doctor.

When the time to visit came, he was leading the doctor. The halls were practically mapped in his mind. A few turns down hallways and up an elevator would lead you to the recovery ward.

This ward in particular always left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. The walls seemed to be painted with such a vibrant hope: to heal and never return. His eyes had grown used to the colors; they'd grown dull and hope seemed like a foolish notion. Could it really be classified as recovery if coming back was the only outcome?

"We already administered them pain medication so they should be resting. Try not to do anything that'll increase their heart rate," the doctor advised. He nodded, not fully listening. It's not that he didn't care about protocol; no, he quite understood the importance of it. He just couldn't bear another moment wondering if you were okay. "They're strong. A full recovery is likely."

It was as if the doctor could sense his worry. Maybe he noticed his shaky palm reaching for the doorknob, or he was just doing his job. Either way, he had to see you.

Upon stepping into the room, a wave of frigid air struck his cheeks. It was dimly lit, the only light coming from the lines on a nearby monitor. You were lying on your side, slowly twisting upon hearing someone enter the room.

"Haru?" Your voice was hoarse.

He cringed at the weakness coming from you. In a way, it was painful to see you like this: frail and sick. "Hey, how you feeling?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle.

"Like I just had surgery." He smiled at that, he supposed it was a good enough sign. You weren't the type to hide your struggle behind a cheesy joke like he did. He admired that about you.

A few moments pass before he speaks again. "I didn't know."

"I thought I hid it well enough. You weren't supposed to find out." You look up at him; his brows are furrowed and his eyes hold some sort of pain behind them. Maybe it was just the meds, but he seems more beautiful than ever.

"Soukaku told me," he lets out a sigh, "you can tell me anything, you know that, right?" Pulling a chair from the wall, he sets it next to your bed.

"I know. I just didn't want to worry you." Why at this moment did you decide to be selfless? Though he couldn't fault you. It was as if you had taken a page from his own book.

"I'd be worried either way," he murmured, letting his gaze fall under the weight of something tender. "I care about you."

"I don't get it, why are you so worried? It's just surgery." You laugh, a smile rising to your lips. It was rare that Harumasa was this soft. Usually, his tenderness would be waved off by an onslaught of jokes.

"I already said I care about you. You're practically family." His eyes analyze your face. He couldn't quite tell if you were being serious or just fishing for more heartfelt words.

You place a palm to your heart in mock hurt. "Ouch, Harumasa! Did you just family-zone me? That hurt more than the surgery!"

"Oh, c'mon. You know what I mean." His hand wraps around yours, nuzzling it into his cheek. He is warm, or the room is getting hotter. "I care about you. More than just a friend."

Harumasa doesn't miss the way your cheeks flare up or the sudden beeps from the monitor. He retracted his hand in a swift motion and stood up, his expression showing worry. "Are you all right?"

"What's wrong, Harumasa?" you smirk, wiggling your eyebrows at him. "Did you do something bad?"

Running a hand through his hair, he stares at the monitor. Your heartbeats slowed down and no doctors seemed to be rushing in. He was sure he was going to faint, the thought of possibly hurting you fresh in his mind.

"So, was that a confession?" You snap him out of his trance with your teasing voice. His eyes snap to yours, giving you an unimpressed look. You were going to give him a heart attack one of these days if you continued like this. The more he thought about it the more he didn't mind, maybe they'd put him in the room next to yours.

"You," He scoffs, flicking his finger against your forehead lightly, "need to get some rest."

"Aw, running already, Asaba?" As much as you tried to stifle it, a yawn slipped it's way out your throat. His gaze softened when he realized he was making the correct choice. You needed rest.

"Nah, just leaving before you make me do something that'll get me into trouble with your doctor." You didn't catch it from your angle, but his cheeks blushed with a quiet warmth of his own.

[mimipolo]

hey :) could you do a nam-gyu fic where thanos is flirting/put claim on the reader, but she clearly like nam-gyu more. just him dealing with his attraction for her, but still trying to be on thanos' good side

Nam-gyu x reader

I don't know if I did this right I had like five different ideas for how it could pan out so I hope this is alright

| ₊˚⊹ᰔ

You were content with the idea of completely ignoring Thanos, his odd claims and even weirder way of flirting. Sure, it was fairly entertaining but it wasn't something you planned to put up with for long.

That was until he walked up to your bunk with a friend in towe. A friend that immediately caught your eye.

"Ayy Senorita!" He draws out in his usual musical tone, behind him a man that looked uninterested, perhaps even annoyed to be there making you grin slightly.

"Aren't ya gonna come down." A whiney voice calls up to you, his face pulling into a frown as he crossed his arms.

"Dude, this a waste of time let's just go." He's still behind Thanos, a hand already on his shoulder, nudging him slightly, hoping to convince him to turn back, and as his gaze went from him to you he stops. The eye contact he made with you was so undeniable you actually looked at the rapper directly for once, startled by how your heart suddenly raced.

"I think I'll stay and eat up here...thanks though." Your refusal immediately has him grumbling as he dramatically pivots to walk away. But his friend hangs back a small moment longer, the brief acknowledgement held a value only you two could fathom.

"Come on Nam-su we outt." Thanos drawls lazily, his arms in his pockets as he swayed from side to side.

"Nam-gyu..." He sighs defeatedly, it was pretty clear this wasn't the first time and likely wouldn't be the last time he'd have to correct the rapper of his name.

Nam-gyu huh? You wouldn't like to admit it but you kept the name close to your mind, maybe he'd favour you for remembering it. Which was a weird thought to have for someone you hadn't actually properly met yet.

You hoped to though.

And he did too, when Thanos was insistent on getting you to eat with them he was almost instantly irritated. Why? What was the point of that? From the beginning he wasn't a fan of any distractions that could lead Thanos away from him, it was inconvenient and if he wanted to win he needed both their focus on that damn cash prize.

What he hadn't prepared for was the you. You who Thanos had miraculously spotted among all the bland people in this weird murder game. And he would never admit it, especially not to him that he understood why he was so hooked on you.

And with that came a jealousy. A deep, seething jealousy that came from nowhere. Now he was frustrated with himself, Thanos and you. And the worst of it all is him actually being just as bummed you didn't come down to eat with them.

| ₊˚⊹ᰔ

From then on there was this tense love triangle between the three of you which Thanos held no part in. You had no intention of making it clear to the man you weren't interested, first of all: it'd be too much of a hassle, and second because of his favour you've been able to survive games you probably wouldn't have. So you'd put up with him, no big deal.

The only thing, no, person making this harder was Nam-gyu. He was also seemingly smart enough to judge it's best to not make any big move as you were both benefitting from being close to Thanos. But it was painfully clear his attention was always on you, his eyes only snapping back alive at the mention of your name during the moments Thanos seems to talk forever. Having to tip toe around the unspoken attraction towards each other was fine by you, exhilarating even. But you're really starting to wonder if Thanos really can't notice when you and the longer haired man only glance between each other whenever he flirts with you.

Apparently the small amused smiles and prolonged eye contact wasn't enough for Nam-gyu. This could end badly if he was caught but he couldn't care less at this point, this whole time it's just felt like the two of you were saying a million things while saying nothing at all. And he'd actually be damned if he let Thanos hold him back from talking to you. He believed you felt the same, it's not just anyone that looks at him so fondly and sees him as an individual. You saw him like he was someone familiar and when he lies awake, he's convinced that's why he's so drawn to you.

Which is also why he's sneaking to see you during lights out. Was this a good idea?

Probably not.

But he'd already climbed past a snoring Avengers threat so he might as well see it through. He sucked in his breath harshly when he heard the familiar snoring pattern pause when he finally made it to the ground. His heart only relaxing when it fell back into rythmn. Not that he was too worried though, he had thousands of excuses on the tip of his tongue. A benefit that came with being a pathological liar.

He is oddly greatful that the majority of the people that were on your bunk had died, the only remaining players being two beds above yours. Meaning he didn't need to sweat about not waking anyone on his way up. As he begins climbing he draws to a question. What if you're not even awake? Even worse what if you are or he wakes you up and you think he's some weirdo. He physically shakes the thought away as he continues his ascent, he just needed to see you, then he'd go back.

It was odd being able to see you so up close, watching the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. Seeing you like this calmed him down and made him want to fall asleep himself.

He freezes when you shift and his hair brushes your nose, your face scrunching up as you waft away the unwanted texture with a groggy hand. Eyes squinting open to see a stunned Nam-gyu instead of a stray price of fluff from your pillow.

What, is he doing here?

You gasp sharply, immediately sitting up and accidentally banging your head against the bed above you in your rush. He's quietly shushing you as you hold your head in whine in pain. You only look back at him when the pain has slightly subsided, hissing one last time before tear pricked eyes meet his.

"The hell are you doing here?"

"Can't I come to see you?" You squint at his words, they pissed you off, obviously he could but you were literally sleeping?

"You came to watch me sleep?" You ask sarcastically, grinning knowingly as he groaned and rolled his eyes.

Seeing as you weren't entirely put off by his night visit he crawls onto your bed fully, catching you a bit off guard but you make no objection against it which makes him strangely glad.

"Thanos isn't any good, you shouldn't be with him." He says bitterly, when you don't say anything immediately after he looks away from you and runs his hair behind his ears.

"...And you're saying you are?" you say with the slight raise of your brow.

You were just fucking around you already liked him more from the moment you saw him. Long disobedient hair and an angular face and a surprisingly sharp tongue when provoked. Ticking most of your boxes, you just wanted to see how he'd respond.

"Nah... but I could be better, than him at least." He says with a small huff which makes you laugh slightly, and he immediately notes he's never heard it before.

"I'll see you to that." Your words make his heart seize up but in the way when he's won when he didn't expect to. The carefree act he had going was going to crumble if you kept being so casual with him.

It's only now he feels the tensity of the situation, sitting in your bed in an area mostly secluded. He was actually feeling nervous being around you without Thanos there as some barrier to the two of you. You're looking at him expectantly as if waiting for him to make some smart ass response but you're so pretty right now. Your eyes on him and him alone. He's keeping quiet because if he spoke as he was now... he couldn't promise he wouldn't immediately embarass himself.

Instead he looks between you and the wall, his eyes scanning your face each time before he looked away. Despite the chaos of feelings reeling from inside him his face was mostly unreadable. The only thing telling you anything was his jaw tightening and loosening, maybe chewing the inside of his cheek.

You tilt your head to see if he'd look at you if you were more in his line of view but he only locked eyes with you for a moment before looking up.

He was nervous?

The thought made your chest swell even though you knew he was probably just deep in thought. Either way your fighting back a smile as you take his face in your hands and place a soft kiss on his lips. It was honestly amazing how he came back to reality from the contact. Staring at you with wide confused eyes as if questioning why you would even do that.

And when you start to laugh to yourself quietly he's chuckling flustered beside you. His lips pursed tight to not let the grin on his face appear, but his feelings were clear in the new softness in his eyes.

Nodding lightly like he's fully savoured your presence he's manoeuvring himself to leave your bed, giving the underside of your knee a light squeeze before settling on the ladder.

"G'night..."

"Night Nam-gyu."

The first genuine smile of the night freely slips onto his face, making your own smile appear before he's making his descent back down. Grinning to himself like an idiot all the way back to his bed because he managed to get the girl Thanos saw first.

| ₊˚⊹ᰔ

Ever since then it's been this mutual joke between you two. You're holding back a snicker as Thanos serenades you because Nam-gyu's right behind him rolling his eyes and mocking him.

Nightly routines of him visiting your bed comforted you on those nights you couldn't will yourself to sleep. There's been more than one occasion he's stayed the night and forgot to go back to his bed and when questioned about where he was so early in the morning it's always "Needed to piss". He's glancing back at you accusingly as if you forced him to stay (you asked repeatedly very nicely.)

I love him sm I'm gonna cook him into a lasagna.

[kneazle]

More of the tsunami fic! Probably the weakest part (in my opinion) but I believe we're coming to a close with this soon maybe one more part? 😊 again thank you to everyone whose shown this love, I appreciate it more than you can imagine 💕

Tags are under the cut but let me know if you want to be removed! (hopefully I didn't miss any of you that wanted to be added!)

part 1 • part 2

Tommy breathed heavily, cold seeping into his bones while his skin broke out in a sweat. It was an odd feeling, and one that didn't bode well for him. 

He didn't know how long passed since he lifted them onto the platform. His leg throbbed when there wasn't pain shooting up it, but he could do no more than he already had at the moment, having used his plaid button-up to stop himself from bleeding out like he was. There's no telling if it would hold, but it was something until he could get Jee to safety.

Tommy glanced down at where she was curled into his side and his heart clenched.

He looked up to the sky and closed his eyes for a brief moment. 

Please just let her be okay, please

The air was tense in the engine on the way to the pier. Worried glances were thrown his and Chimney's way but Buck avoided meeting those gazes.

They were on their way back from a quick call when it came in about the tsunami, everyone holding their breaths at the thought of another one. Buck felt their eyes on him and had grinned sadly, a weak joke about at least he wasn't there this time but not fully meaning it as another tsunami meant people hurt, lives lost. 

Until Chimney made a strangled noise from his seat. Choking out that Jee was at the pier with Tommy. That Tommy volunteered to watch her when Maddie got called in for a shift and their normal babysitter couldn't, and was planning on taking her there.

Buck's chest felt empty and constricting at the same time as Chimney spoke on the phone with Maddie for a few seconds. His worry burrowing inside, steadily growing at the sound of their voices. He didn't say a word but shared a look with Chim– yet what right did he have when this was their child? Bile rose in his throat that he pushed down, hands clenching. Jee and Tommy were god knows where and in what state, but Buck would do anything to trade places with them at this moment.

"Uncle Tommy Uncle Tommy!"

Tommy's eyes shot open, blinking rapidly at Jee's shouting and shoves. Fuck. He internally cursed at himself for not staying focused, having felt drowsy– no doubt an infection but there was no time to think more on it.

"Look!" 

He sucked in a breath. A boy of about seven or eight was coming their way yelling and crying for help, holding onto a board that was barely keeping him afloat. Tommy saw this little boy with soaked curls, wet black glasses that slid down his nose– and Tommy turned to Jee, "Stay right there Jee don't move!" He told her quickly.

Tommy jumped back into the water and grunted against the pain as he swam out enough, grabbing for the boy as soon as he was in reach. 

He didn't hesitate to cling to Tommy who held the young boy to him. "I got you buddy, I got you, hang on alright?"

Relief slammed into him so hard when they were all on the platform and Jee didn't move an inch, that Tommy let a tear escape mixing with the wetness of the water. Fear clawed its way in his chest.

"Thank you!" The boy coughed out, body giving a big shiver as his lower lip trembled.

"What's your name kid?" Tommy asked softly. "I'm Tommy and this is my best buddy Jee."

He rubbed at his nose, wiping water from his eyes. "D-Danny."

"Alright Danny, can I know who you came here with?" 

"My b-big brother, he- he got pulled away." Danny whimpered, and Tommy could have cried the way Jee scooted closer, her little hand coming to hold Danny's slightly bigger one.

Tommy wrapped two terrified children in his hold, trying to stay awake and focused on them and not the feeling of his body fighting for sleep with the piercing throbbing pain spreading through him.

Fear wasn't new to him– but this was an entirely new kind of fear he realized.

@not-as-straight-as-i-appear @todd-harper @klutzygirl @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @bidisasterevankinard @comfortingevanbuckley @laundryandtaxesworld @tommykinard @sherlockismarvelous9-1-1 @mmso-notlikethat @iphyslitterator @racerchix21 @a-mel0n @station18908 @beckym2001 @bi-bi-buckleys @loulou-land @tommykinard6 @beanarie @fuselsstuff @chococara25 @owlgirl495 @thestrangestthlng @buckleyskinards @nznaturalkiwi @daughterofscotland @livelaughlou @hyperfocusthusly @teabroomsandbooks @thecarrott @tistai

[poppitron360]

Okay so I might’ve mentioned that I’m writing a fic where the children of Percabeth, Solangelo, and Valgrace go on an epic quest to rescue their parents and the rest of the Seven from the clutches of evil and I’ve kinda been Hyperfixating on it for a while so here is the first character I would like to info-dump about.

Meet Finley Di Angelo-Solace!!!

He’s currently my favourite out of the Next-gen trio and definitely the one I have the most fun writing for. I genuinely love him sm.

Rant under the cut-

Fin is the son of Nico and Will, and was created using divine godly magic so is biologically both theirs (hey if Zeus can have a baby from his thigh this can happen)

His powers are a complex amalgamation of both of his parents: he can shadow-travel in sunlight, he can heal and talk to the dead and his main weapon is archery

He’s autistic

He has hypersensitive hearing (it could be an Apollo thing, it could be an Autism thing we don’t know. It’s probably both)

He prefers ranged combat partially because he is touch-averse and likes to keep his distance (also bc the other two characters both use melee weapons so I needed some variety)

I see your “Trans Will Solace” hc and I raise you- “Transmasc son of Solangelo who they love and support so so much”

He will INSIST on wearing a binder throughout the entire quest, rib cage be damned! (This will become a problem bc apparently you’re supposed to take breaks and you’re not supposed to do any physical exercise in them so running around chasing monsters is not gonna go well)

A big theme in the fic is gonna be “names have power- but the name you choose is so much more important than the name you were given”, a continuation of the theme from my Married Valgrace AU (which this is canon to) where Jason chooses to take Leo’s name instead of keeping the name of the mom that abandoned him. I feel like Finley would be a great character to symbolise this- someone who chose his own name.

His favourite colour is green/turquoise

Think of Nico’s scariest moment that you’ve read in canon or in a fic- where he is just a force of complete and utter darkness and death. Are you picturing it? Good. Now multiply that by ten. Now imagine someone tried to misgender his child.

The same can be applied to Will. No transphobe would dare mess with Solangelo’s boy.

He is childhood best friends with the two other main characters, Isabella and Olympia, and talks to them a lot but is kinda shy around everyone else.

He also has a major crush on Isabella- the daughter of Valgrace. I have so many cute hcs about those two y’all have no idea.

He is good with medicine and has a magic first-aid kit that acts a lot like Leo’s tool belt with replenishing supplies.

He loves Star Wars

While all the other characters’ POV chapters have regular PJO-style funny titles, all his chapter titles are TOA-esque haikus.

@demigod-shenanigans @twomanyfandomshelp @puzzled-pegasus @m-for-now @lavenderfairiez @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @123letsgobestie @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @frayna-of-the-hollow @via-rant @hadeslegacyhephgirl @pjowasmy1stfandom @thetourturedwritersclub @inky-void @deciduowl @day-draws

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Between Loyalty and Love

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (Ghoap x reader)

Warnings: Mild violence, swearing, poly relationship, intimacy (Simon/Johnny, Simon/you, Johnny/you), fluff, slow-burn romance, smut and spice

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy this Ghoap fic (am I using that right? Lord I don’t know ship names-) I uh also made Switch!Ghost x Switch!Johnny a thing in this but it turns into Ghost getting dommed-🤭

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The first hint of something more began to stir during an intense training session. You were focused, your attention on Johnny as he attempted to outmaneuver you. His grin was playful, the ever-confident swagger present in every swing and twist, but you were determined not to let him get the best of you.

“Come on, lass! Can’t keep up?” Johnny teased, stepping forward, just barely dodging your last punch.

You smirked, narrowing your eyes. “I’m just getting started, Soap,” you said with confidence, trying to close the gap between you.

Johnny laughed, that familiar sound echoing in the large room. But the sound stopped when you made a quick move, landing a soft punch against his side. He stumbled back, eyes wide with surprise.

“Wha—”

“You were too busy laughing,” you quipped, pride in your voice.

Simon, who had been observing silently from the side, finally spoke up, his voice smooth and firm. “She got you good, Johnny.”

Johnny shot Simon a teasing look. “You’re just jealous that I’m the one she’s sparring with.”

Simon raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused. “Hardly.” But the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

Johnny leaned against the wall, stretching out his arms and pretending to catch his breath. “Maybe we should see how you handle her,” he suggested, his voice lowering slightly.

Simon shook his head, but his hands moved to adjust his gloves, stepping into the ring with you.

---

Later that evening, you sat together in the quiet of the rec room, a bottle of whiskey resting on the table between you. Johnny sprawled across the couch, his head resting in Simon’s lap, while you settled on the other side. It was an unexpected comfort, the three of you all close but not necessarily needing to speak.

But Johnny broke the silence. “I’ve been thinkin’ about us,” he said quietly, his tone unusually soft.

You turned to look at him, your chest tightening as he met your eyes. “Us?”

“Aye,” Johnny said with a crooked grin, though it wasn’t quite as playful as usual. “The three of us. Don’t know when it happened, but it’s obvious now. I care about you both more than I should. More than is probably allowed.”

Simon’s hand stroked Johnny’s hair, a rare softness in his touch. “There’s no rulebook, Johnny,” Simon replied quietly, his voice steady but warm. “We’re not breaking anything.”

You met Simon’s gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. “I feel the same. We’ve grown close, all of us. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”

Johnny’s eyes softened at that, his grin spreading wider. “Good, ‘cause I don’t think I could do this without either of you.”

Without waiting, Johnny shifted closer, lifting his head from Simon’s lap and wrapping his arm around you. You relaxed into him, your head resting against his shoulder.

Simon watched both of you, his gaze intense yet filled with warmth. “We’re in this together,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was gentle, his fingers lingering longer than necessary.

---

The days that followed were filled with small, intimate moments. Johnny and Simon began to subtly claim you in ways that made your heart race. They would touch you when you least expected it—Simon’s fingers grazing yours as you passed him, Johnny pressing a kiss to the top of your head when you were lost in conversation with someone else.

One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, you found yourself in the kitchen, preparing a meal for the three of you. Johnny had made himself comfortable at the counter, leaning in to watch you as you chopped vegetables.

“I hope you’re not trying to avoid me, love,” Johnny teased, his voice low as he leaned in closer, his breath tickling your neck.

You smiled, but your heart thudded in your chest as you felt the heat of his proximity. “Just busy, Johnny,” you said, trying to keep your composure.

Simon stood just behind him, arms crossed, his eyes flicking between you and Johnny. There was something in his gaze—something possessive, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable. It was a feeling of ownership, yes, but one that came with deep respect and care.

“You know,” Simon said slowly, his voice darker than usual, “I don’t mind watching, but I do prefer to join in eventually.”

You met Simon’s gaze, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Maybe later.”

Johnny chuckled, his fingers brushing over the back of your hand. “That’s the spirit, love. You’ll find it’s easier when we’re all together.”

Later that night, after the meal was shared, and the conversation flowed effortlessly between the three of you, Johnny nudged Simon. “You ready for the quiet night you promised me?” Johnny asked, his voice lower, his eyes glimmering with something more intense.

Simon raised an eyebrow. “You don’t need to ask me twice,” he said, his gaze flicking to you. “You okay with this?”

You met his gaze, a little flutter of excitement spreading through you. “I’m more than okay.”

---

Later that night of your evening together was one you would never forget. There was an unspoken agreement between you all—no pressure, no expectations, just mutual care and love.

You and Simon had been lying in bed, the soft glow of the moonlight spilling in through the window. Johnny was sprawled across the other side of the bed, facing the two of you, his breath slow and even.

Simon’s hand brushed against your arm, a gentle gesture that spoke volumes. “You okay?” he whispered, his voice like velvet in the quiet room.

You turned toward him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I’m more than okay.”

Johnny shifted in his sleep, rolling closer to you both, his face nuzzling into your side. You chuckled softly, brushing your fingers through his messy hair.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Soap,” you teased, smiling down at him.

Johnny grinned up at you, his eyes still heavy with sleep. “Not if you’re all over me like that, love.”

Simon’s hand found yours, threading his fingers through yours in a simple but intimate gesture. He pressed his lips to your temple, murmuring softly, “You mean everything to me.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of Simon’s body beside you, the steady rise and fall of Johnny’s breath, and in that moment, everything felt right.

“We’re in this together,” you whispered back, your heart full.

---

The following day, Simon and Johnny had a moment alone. Johnny leaned against the counter, a slow smile tugging at his lips as he watched Simon prepare coffee.

“You know,” Johnny began, his voice low and flirtatious, “she’s perfect for us, isn’t she?”

Simon, who was busy making his coffee, nodded silently but looked up at Johnny, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “She is.”

Without another word, Johnny crossed the room, closing the distance between them. He stood close behind Simon, his fingers brushing Simon’s shoulder. “I think it’s time we let her know just how much she means to us, don’t you?” Johnny said softly, leaning in closer.

Simon’s fingers stilled on the coffee mug, his gaze meeting Johnny’s. “I’m not one to shy away from that,” he said quietly.

Johnny grinned, then moved in, capturing Simon’s lips in a heated kiss. Simon responded without hesitation, his hands finding Johnny’s waist, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, their bodies pressing together, each touch a reaffirmation of the bond they were forming, a bond that was equally shared between all three of you.

After a long moment, they pulled away, their foreheads resting together. Johnny’s voice was low and teasing. “Think we should go tell her?”

Simon smirked, his voice smooth. “We’ll let her decide when she’s ready.”

“Until she does… do you think something could happen with us?” Johnny asks, leaning into him before they kiss with Johnny’s hands traveling up and down Simon’s body

Simon's eyes darkened with lust as he gazed at Johnny, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, I think something's definitely going to happen with us. The question is, where do we start?" His voice was a low, seductive growl, thick with desire.

Johnny grinned, his own eyes blazing with desire as he pressed himself harder against Simon. "Well, I was thinkin' we could start right here, right now. Ye ken, get a lil' preview of what's to come." His hand slid down to palm Simons's hardening cock through his pants, squeezing it gently.

Simon let out a low groan, his hips bucking into Johnny's touch. "Fuck, Johnny... if you keep doing that, I don't think I'll be able to hold back." His hands found the hem of Johnny's shirt, slipping underneath to caress the firm, muscular planes of his back.

"Then don't hold back, aye?" Johnny challenged, his Scottish brogue thicker than usual. "Take what ye want, Simon. Take what we both want." He captured Simon's lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and desperate hunger.

They stumbled back towards the bed, hands roaming and groping, tugging at clothes. Simon ripped off his shirt, tossing it carelessly to the side. Johnny made quick work of his pants, shoving them down his legs. In moments, they were both left in nothing but their boxers, their hard cocks straining against the fabric.

"Lay back, handsome," Simon commanded, his voice rough with lust. "Let me show you what I've been dreaming of doing to you."

Johnny did as he was told, sprawling out on the bed. Simon crawled over him, settling between his spread thighs. He ran his hands up and down Johnny's muscular legs, squeezing and caressing, before hooking his fingers in the waistband of Johnny's boxers.

"Ye want this, don't ye Johnny?" Simon murmured, slowly tugging down his boxers to reveal his thick, hard cock. It slapped against his belly, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

"Fuck, yes," Johnny groaned, his hips lifting off the bed. "Want to feel your mouth on me, want to fuck your face until you choke on my cock."

Simon smirked, a wicked glint in his eye. "Such a filthy mouth you have, MacTavish. I fucking love it." He leaned down, dragging his tongue up the underside of Johnny's shaft, swirling it around the head before sucking him deep into his mouth.

"Ungh, fuck!" Johnny cried out, fisting Simon's short blond hair as he began to fuck his mouth, his hips snapping up and down. Simon took him deep, swallowing around him, his nose pressed against the coarse hair at the base of Johnny's cock.

They lost themselves in the act, the wet sounds of the blowjob filling the room. Simon worked Johnny over, sucking and licking and fondling his heavy balls, until Johnny was a babbling mess, begging for release.

With a roar, Johnny came hard, his seed shooting down Simons's throat. Simon swallowed it all, licking his lips as he pulled off with a satisfied smirk.

"Fuck, that was just the beginning, love," Simon promised, crawling up Johnny's body to capture his lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. "Wait until we get our girl in here. Wait until the three of us are tangled up in the sheets, lost in pleasure, lost in each other..."

He rocked his hips against Johnny's, letting him feel how hard he still was. "Think you can handle that? Think you can handle the three of us, together?"

Johnny grinned, his eyes gleaming with wicked anticipation. "I can handle anything, as long as it's with the two of you. Now, why don't you get that sexy arse of yours up here so we can finish what we started?"

Simon smirked, climbing up their bodies until he was straddling Johnny's waist. "With pleasure, handsome..."

Johnnys's hands roamed over Simons's muscular back, feeling the flex of his muscles as he positioned himself above him. "Ye ken, I've wanted this for a long time, Ghost," Johnny murmured, his Scottish accent thick with lust. "Dreamt about havin' ye beneath me, begin' for my cock."

Simon shuddered, his own member throbbing with need as Johnny's breath hot against his ear. "Fuck, Johnny... you have no idea how badly I've craved this. Craved you." He bucked his hips up against Johnny's, their hard lengths rubbing together through the thin fabric of their boxers.

Johnny captured Simon’s mouth in a searing kiss, plundering and possessing, his tongue delving deep to taste every inch of Simon’s mouth. His hands slid down to grip Simon’s firm ass, kneading the taut globes as he ground their hips together.

Simon moaned into the kiss, his own hands grasping at Johnny’s biceps, feeling them flex and bunch beneath his fingers. The kiss turned more urgent, more demanding, as the need between them grew.

Breaking away, Johnny trailed his lips down Simon’s throat, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. "I'm going to fuck you now, LT," he growled, his voice raw with desire. "Gonna make you feel so good, you'll be beggin' for more."

"Please," Simon gasped, tilting his head to give Johnny better access. "Want your cock inside me, want you to take me hard and fast. Fuck me until I can't think of anything else."

Johnny grinned wickedly, his eyes darkening with lust. "Oh, I'll fuck you alright. Gonna claim this sexy arse of yours, make it mine." In one swift motion, he shoved Simon's boxers down and off, tossing them away.

Simon's cock sprang free, long, hard and thick, the swollen head an angry red. Johnny licked his lips at the sight, reaching out to wrap his hand around the hot shaft. "Fuckin hell, LT... you're so big."

Johnny shuddered, his hips thrusting into Simon's grip. "Gonna fill you up, aye. Gonna stuff your tight hole full of my cock until you're beggin' for mercy."

Simon released him, spreading his legs wider, baring himself completely to Johnny’s heated gaze. "Then take what you want, Johnny. Take me, claim me, make me yours."

With a feral growl, Johnny positioned himself at Simon's entrance, the broad head of his cock pressing against the tight ring of muscle. He pushed forward, slowly, relentlessly, until the head popped inside. Simon gasped, his back arching off the bed.

"Fuck, so tight," Johnny groaned, pushing deeper, inch by hard inch, until he was buried to the hilt inside Simon's hot, silken passage. "Ye feel incredible, baby. Like your arse was made to take my cock."

Simon could only moan in response, his body clenching and fluttering around the thick intrusion stretching him wide. The burn of the initial intrusion faded into a deep, throbbing ache of need. "More," he gasped out. "Give me more, Johnny. Fuck me harder, deeper."

Johnny needed no further encouragement. He drew back until only the tip remained inside, then slammed forward, setting a hard, fast pace as he pounded into Simons's willing body. The headboard slammed against the wall with each powerful thrust, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

Simon wrapped his legs around Johnny's waist, locking his ankles at the small of Johnny's back, urging him deeper, harder. "Fuck, yes! Just like that, Johnny. Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop!"

Johnny panted harshly, sweat dripping down his face as he rutted into Simon, his heavy balls slapping against Simon’s ass with each snap of his hips. "Fuck, Simon... can't... fuck... gonna come... fuck!"

Simon clenched down hard, his release slamming into him with the force of a freight train. He screamed out Johnny's name as his cock erupted, painting his chest and belly with streaks of thick, hot seed. The sensation of Simon's body spasming around him pushed Johnny over the edge.

With a roar, he buried himself deep and came hard, his cock jerking and twitching as it emptied inside Simon's clutching heat. They collapsed together, both gasping for air, their bodies slick with sweat and spent passion.

"Fuck, that was... incredible," Simon panted out, his arms wrapping around Johnny to hold him close. "I could get used to this."

Johnny chuckled breathlessly, nuzzling into the sweat-damp crook of Simon’s neck. "Aye, ye could say that again." He lifted his head to look down at Simon, his eyes soft with satisfaction and affection. "Ye know, I've never... felt like this with anyone before. Never wanted someone the way I want you... and her."

Simon smiled up at him, cupping his cheek, his thumb brushing over Johnny's lips. "I do know. I feel the same way, Johnny. And I can't wait to make all three of us feel this good, this complete."

"We will, love. Soon as our girl is ready, we'll give her the same pleasure, the same love and devotion that we give each other."

"Can't fucking wait," Simon murmured, pulling Johnny down for a slow, deep kiss. "But for now... how about we take a shower, get cleaned up? Then maybe we can take another go at it, just the two of us."

Johnny grinned, his eyes lighting up at the idea. "I like the way ye think, handsome. A shower sounds perfect right about now. And then we can go talk to Bonnie ‘bout us all.”

With one last kiss, they disentangled and made their way to the bathroom, ready for a thorough cleaning. The road ahead was uncertain, but in this moment, they had each other. And soon, they would have their love too. The thought made their hearts swell with anticipation and love.

---

The following day, everything felt different. Johnny and Simon were closer than before, and it didn't go unnoticed by you. Their interactions were lighter, more natural—there was an ease to their conversations now, a shared joke or a look that spoke volumes between the two of them. Johnny was often leaning closer, his hand brushing Simon's as they worked together. Simon, usually reserved and stoic, would let out the smallest chuckle when Johnny said something offhand, his eyes softening in a way you hadn’t seen before.

As the day wore on, it became apparent to you that the bond between the two men was deepening. She watched them exchange quick glances, their touches becoming more frequent, but each one felt purposeful, as though they were testing the waters. The chemistry between them, while subtle, was undeniable.

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something in your chest as she watched the pair. It was a mixture of curiosity and desire, but also a certain confidence that she hadn’t felt before. Maybe you had been too hesitant, too unsure of yourself, but as you observed Johnny and Simon, it clicked. You weren’t a bystander anymore. You are part of this dynamic—part of the connection they were building. And maybe it was time to let yourself be fully immersed in it.

Your decision was made. You couldn’t deny the attraction you felt to both men. They brought out different sides of you, made you feel seen in ways you never had before. The intimacy they shared—whether it was in the quiet moments when Simon would speak low to you, or in Johnny's playful teasing that somehow made you feel special—was something you didn’t want to ignore anymore.

You made your way over to them, catching Johnny's eye first. He gave you a warm smile, the kind that always made your stomach flutter, and you felt yourself draw closer to him. Simon glanced over, meeting your gaze with that intense, unreadable look of his, but there was something softer in his eyes now, a hint of approval.

"You okay?" Johnny asked, his voice low and warm, a trace of concern behind it.

You nodded, then looked from Johnny to Simon, your heart racing slightly. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking... maybe it’s time we... talk. About us. All of us.”

Johnny’s expression softened even more, and Simon seemed to relax, his posture easing as if waiting for you to continue.

“About how we’re... closer now,” you said, your voice firm, yet with a touch of uncertainty as you searched their faces for their reactions. “How I feel about both of you.”

Johnny’s hand found your wrist, gently pulling you a little closer, and Simon shifted slightly in his chair. There was a brief silence before Johnny spoke, his voice laced with warmth, “And how do you feel about us?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over yourself. “I think... I think I want to be with both of you. If you’re both open to it.”

Simon’s lips twitched upward, and Johnny chuckled, the sound low and almost a little breathless. "We're more than open, sweetheart. Just had to make sure you felt the same," Johnny murmured.

Simon stood then, moving closer, his large frame casting a shadow over her as he placed a hand on your cheek, his touch soft and surprisingly tender. "You’re not the only one who's been thinking about this," he murmured, his voice rough with something you couldn't quite place.

As the tension between the three of them shifted, your pulse had quickened. You knew the moment had arrived, and now, it was time to let everything unfold.

Johnny grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement and desire as he pulled you in closer, his hand sliding from your wrist up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "We've been waiting for you to realize what we already know - that the three of us are meant to be together."

Simon's thumb brushed over your lower lip, his intense gaze holding yours captive. "You've got no idea how badly we want this, sweetheart. Want you." His voice was a low, seductive rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

Johnny leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Tell us what you want, baby. Tell us how you want us to make you feel, and we'll do it. Anything you desire, it's yours."

Your heart raced, your body trembling slightly as you gazed into Johnny's warm, inviting eyes. You could feel the heat radiating off Simon's body as he stood close behind you, his hand still cupping your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw.

"I want... I want you both," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion and longing. "I want to feel your hands on me, exploring every inch of my body. I want to feel your lips on mine, kissing me until I'm breathless and aching for more."

Johnny captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim and possess. He pulled you flush against him, his strong arms encircling your waist, crushing your soft curves against the hard planes of his body.

Simon pressed himself against your back, his large hands sliding down to grip your hips, pulling your bottom against the prominent bulge in his pants. He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he murmured, "We're going to worship this sexy body of yours, baby. Going to touch you until you're writhing and begging for release."

Johnny broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he gazed down at you with lust-darkened eyes. "We're going to give you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams, sweetheart. Going to fill you up in ways you've never experienced before."

Simon spun you around, taking your mouth in a hungry, demanding kiss, his tongue plundering the warm cavern of your mouth. He gripped your ass, squeezing and kneading the firm globes as he ground his hard cock against your belly.

Johnny grasped the hem of your shirt, slowly peeling it up and off, tossing it carelessly to the side. He drank in the sight of your exposed flesh, his eyes roaming over the swell of your breasts, the hardened peaks of your nipples straining against the fabric of your bra.

"Fuck, you're stunning," Johnny breathed, reaching out to reverently cup the weight of your breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. "Can't wait to taste these perfect tits, to suck on your nipples until you're drowning in ecstasy."

Simon made quick work of your bra, unhooking the clasp and tossing it aside, allowing your breasts to bounce free. He dipped his head, taking one aching nipple into his hot mouth, suckling greedily as his hand rolled and plucked at the other.

Johnny captured your mouth again, swallowing your moans and whimpers as Simon lavished attention on your breasts. His hands slid down your back, finding the zipper of your skirt, slowly tugging it down.

Together, they peeled the skirt and your panties off, leaving you bare and exposed before them. Johnny stepped back, his eyes raking over your nude form, his cock straining against the confines of his pants.

"Spread your legs for us, baby," Johnny encouraged, his voice gravelly with desire. "Let us see that pretty little pussy, so wet and ready for us."

You parted your thighs, revealing the glistening folds of your sex, the heady scent of your arousal perfuming the air. Simon's fingers delved between your legs, stroking through the slick heat, circling your clit.

"Fuck, you're soaked," Simon rasped, pushing two thick fingers deep inside your clutching sheath. "Can't wait to feel this tight cunt wrapped around our cocks, sweetheart."

Johnny grasped his rigid shaft, stroking it slowly as he watched Simon finger-fuck you, his eyes blazing with lust. "We're going to fill you up so good, baby. Stretching this pretty pussy, stuffing it full of our cocks until you're screaming for more."

Simon pumped his fingers faster, the obscene sound of your juices filling the room as he fucked into you harder, his thumb rubbing tight circles around your clit. "That's it, sweetheart. Fucking soak my fingers, get them nice and wet. Gonna use all that slick to slick up our cocks before we stuff them inside this sexy little hole."

You could only moan and writhe beneath their ministrations, your body burning with a feverish heat as they touched and teased you. You knew in that moment, you were exactly where you are meant to be - sandwiched between the two men you loved and desired most, ready to fulfill the fantasies they had all been dreaming of.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight 💜

[lvrrgirlll]

Knight in Shining Armor

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Pairing: medieval princess ! reader x knight ! Patrick Zweig

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut, p in v, fem reader, knives mentioned (briefly in a nightmare?), some Christian biblical imagery and mentions of sin/religious related guilt (I was playing into the whole medieval royalty thing idk)

Notes: Thank you guys for all the love on the moodboard/little blurb on this!!! Without all the support I wouldn’t have been inspired to go crazy and write this (I fear this will seem like the most pretentious fic ever written bc I really lent into the medieval thing so the language feels kinda crazy at some points…idk, if y’all were rocking with the last one, you’ll probably rock with this lol) Enjoy!!

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

You did your best to avoid Patrick in court the following days. You were unsure if you could even face him after your dream. But, of course, nothing can last forever. An attempted attack on your wing of the castle (which was, thankfully, stopped by the valiance of Sir Patrick) led to a change that would greatly affect your fate.

As you entered the grand hall of the castle to take your seat in court, you noticed Sir Patrick in his armor —something rather unusual to see in the castle, though you didn't mind— speaking to your father, metal helmet in hand. Your father had always favored Patrick, you presumed for his determination and natural swagger, and acted as such. He was the head knight of the royal guard and spoke with the King frequently. Taking notice of your presence, your father addressed you whilst you curtsied. “Good daughter, what fortune you arrive now of all times. In light of the attack on your wing, I have decided to appoint Sir Patrick himself to be your personal guard. Your safety is of the utmost importance to me and this entire kingdom. It is only right I appoint our best knight.” Your father smiled warmly at Patrick then.

“I thank you, your majesty,” Patrick bows before the King. “I shall be prepared to risk my life for the life of our princess.” At that, he turns to you, offering a look so secretly smug you have trouble maintaining your composure. You simply smile and nod, silently acknowledging the workings of your father and the knight that now create a great dilemma for you.

“Father, I am suddenly feeling quite faint. Might I take my leave and rest for the afternoon?” You just want to get away from him. He’s dangerous. You can hardly control yourself around him. And what’s worse is he knows it.

Your father, concerned, approves of your leave, though you feel dismayed when Sir Patrick follows you. “I am perfectly capable of making my way back, myself. Thank you, sir,” you offer, trying to be as strict as you can, for your own sake more than his.

“M’lady, perhaps you did not understand. As your personal guard, I am tasked with protecting you at all times. This would require that I be with you at all times. The King wills it so.” He speaks formally though his tone is far too pleased to be merely dutiful. You had not considered that. Sighing, you merely nod in understanding before turning again to return to your room.

In your room, Patrick takes his station directly outside the door. “I am only a moment away. Do not hesitate should you need me.” He may not know exactly how you may need him…

You nod, though, smiling softly before closing the door, creating a divide between the two of you. You are overcome by desire. You feel dirty, guilty, and wrong…but you know he feels the same. And he is noble; he is a gentleman…would it be so bad if you acted on your feelings? God, you feel foolish. You have hardly spoken to him in the years he has served at the castle. What feelings could you really be harboring?

Sick of your racing thoughts, you resolve that a nap would be the best right now. In your sleep, though, you dream of enemies breaking through your windows and climbing up the tower of your wing. It is utterly terrifying. You can feel yourself stirring, heart racing and sweating profusely, as your subconscious plays tricks on you. In your nightmare, a cloaked figure, face hidden in the shadows of his hood, plunges a dagger through your heart, causing you to lurch awake with a loud cry. You are breathing heavily, trying to adjust to your new, real surroundings and shake the terror of the dream when you hear Sir Patrick through the door.

“Your Majesty? Are you alright…?” You do not answer, still shaken and attempting to compose yourself. “I am entering, m'lady.” And before you can tell him not to, that you’re alright, Patrick burst through the door, already reaching for his sword. Seeing you are merely sat in bed, his urgency leaves him, concern taking over. “Is there not a threat?” He observes, then, the state you are in. Dressed only in your thin, white nightgown (which has grown somewhat see-through on account of your nightmare induced sweat soaking through the fabric), Patrick is reduced to nothing but a mere man in love, forgetting himself entirely. Unbeknownst to you, he adjusts himself in his trousers, clearing his throat.

The room is illuminated only by the cold, pale light of the moon shining through your large paned windows. Shadows dance across his features as a breeze blows the trees outside steadily. He has never looked more beautiful. Both concern and lust play on his face, leaving you to squirm just a bit more than you normally would have under his gaze. Looking down then, you reply, embarrassed. “Forgive me for my foolishness. There is no present threat. I am sorry to have wasted your time and effort, good sir.” You bow your head in remorse. This on its own is a sign of you respect for the knight before you. Technically, he should be bowing to you, but under his gaze you feel so small, yet so regarded at the same time. It is unlike with any other man, though it is rare you interact with many often anyways. You lift your head, meeting his eyes again and feeling your stomach flip.

A pang of guilt runs through you as you realize you are noticeably smiling at him. Despite his nobility, you believe the two of you would never be. The only way your union: emotional, physical, spiritual, or (more officially) marital would ever occur would be if your father willed it. And though Sir Patrick was your father’s right hand man, it was the relationship of that of an employer and his best employee, not that of father and son nor of old companions.

Your smile dropped and so did his. He knew what he was doing, his silent, unspoken, but clear pursuit of you ever since that fateful night was wrong. But he did not care. He had no regard for his own life or death, he was a knight, after all. He risked himself for this kingdom, he would be willing to risk himself for you. He brought a hand up, cupping your face in his large palm, and offering you a sorry smile. “To defend you, threat or no threat, is my life’s honor, m’lady. You have wasted nothing of mine.” His hand brushed your ear as he tucked your hair behind it. Seeing you with your hair down for the first time was something entirely new to him, similar to when you first saw him shirtless that night. In typical court fashion, you would never leave your chambers with your hair fully down. Seeing you so bare, so honest, and unadorned felt novelty. He was grateful for his wit, being able to convince the King that he should serve you personally.

You, however, were so deeply conflicted. You knew better. Your station in society as well as in life did not allow for these endeavors. But your mind, you body, your heart…they longed for your knight in shining armor. His touch, though somewhat chaste, only holding your head in his hands, felt deeply intimate. You considered your options. “Sir, might I ask your discretion in asking a favor?” Your felt fearful of your own desires, but conjured up as much confidence as possible.

“Always, m’lady.”

You tugged your bottom lip into your mouth for a moment, before continuing. “M- might you…kiss me?” It was hard to maintain your composure, overcome with shame as you looked up pleadingly into his eyes. It was only the two of you in your bedchamber, the door closed —yet another forbidden thing.

Softening, a smirk gracing his features, he sighed. “I would be a fool not to.” This was exactly what he had been wanting since he first saw a portrait of you. The strength required of his position kept his feelings concealed, but in this one, small moment alone with you, he could reveal them. He leaned in slowly, closing the gap between you as his lips move against yours feverishly. You can feel his tongue dart out and wet your bottom lip, but you pull away quickly before he is able to deepen the kiss.

“I am sorry. This is…” you search for the words, not wanting to be so harsh but wanting to be clear. “This is sinful.” Your eyes meet his, pleading for him to offer you a reprieve from your consuming feelings by distancing himself. Though, that twinkle behind your eyes and in the corner of your lips betrayed you. He could see you had fallen for him the same as he for you.

He takes a seat next to you on your bed, looking into your eyes earnestly. “If I it is a sin to touch you, I would become a sinner every day till I am dragged to hell, should you allow me?” He was begging you to let him touch you, feel you, love you. And who would you be to deny him?

You were quiet for a moment, considering your fate and whether or not you would be able to find absolution after giving in. Throwing caution to the wind, you allow yourself, for once, to make your own decisions. "Please, good sir. Touch me. Take me, for I am all yours."

He wasted no time, leaning in to kiss you, his armor clanging against itself as he did so. The kiss was passionate, the years of admiring you from afar being poured out in this one moment. Breaking the kiss, suddenly, he stood, leaving you confused until he began swiftly removing his armor. He made sure to set each piece down gently, so as not to alert and servants lingering nearby of his presence in your chambers. You tried to stifle your smile as his form was revealed more and more with each layer of metal gone. It was new and exciting, and his gentleness despite his clear eagerness was unbelievably admirable.

Once he had removed it all, clad only in a white linen undershirt and trousers, he returned to your bed, leaning over you and pulling you into another deep kiss. This time, he slipped his tongue into your mouth, licking softly into it, his nose brushing against your cheek as he pressed closer into you, as if he longed for your two bodies to be one. It was impossible to be any closer, but you did not mind one bit. Though timid at first, your kisses matched his fervor. You could feel his calloused hand combing through your hair as his other snuck lower, carressing you through your nightgown. You let out a shivered breath at his touch.

"Is this alright, my lady?" He pulled back, looking into your eyes longingly. God, forgive you, but you needed this so badly. You both did.

You nodded, lifting your hips to gather your nightgown up and off of you, casting it aside carelessly. Now, you really felt exposed. But something about Patrick made you want to feel honest; made you want to seek pleasure shamelessly. His eyes widened in tandem with his smirk. He was so pleased and so in love.

"I've never...I-...I'm a virgin," you admitted, looking up at him through your thick lashes. His smile only widened, but not in some sort of sick, smarmy way. It was genuine and kind.

"Oh, I know, your highness. Or...I imagined as much. Not to worry, I am well aware of how to please a woman," he spoke softly, trying not to intimidate you. You would have taken offense at his mention of his previous experience, but you had imagined he was experienced in the first place, as many men and knights of his age are by now. It is different for you, a princess, always expected to remain pure. With him, you did not fear impurity after this. You felt strongly that you would steadfast remain pure in his eyes till the end of time.

He leaned in again, placing hot kisses along your neck. He moved to remove his trousers as he did so, working at the string that held them up quickly. As he did so, your fingers found their way to the tie that held his shirt together, pulling at the string with a new confidence, you brought your hands to the hem and he pulled away from your neck to remove his shirt. Both his bandages and bruises were gone, a good sign, but there was a scar where he had been scratched, a reminder of your previous encounter.

His trousers finally hanging low around his legs, he teased himself around your entrance, causing you to jolt and whimper beneath him. The feeling was entirely foreign but oh so enchanting. He reached a hand down, running his fingers through your folds, smirking at the wetness that gathered on his fingers. "You are like the Lady of The Lake...beautiful, otherworldly, and so, so wet..." Patrick murmured lustfully. It was such a dirty compliment, but you were so deeply moved.

Like your dream, you were both under your layers upon layers of white sheets, so warm, close, and intimate. His fingers danced around your clit, circling it at an agonizingly slow pace. You gasped, sucking in a breath quickly and biting your lip so as not to make any more sound. He did not miss this, leaning in to peck you on the lips before reminding you "The walls are stone, the door thick oak and iron. We should be cautious, yes, but you mustn't be embarrassed to make a sound. It is better, in fact, if you do."

His reassurance brought a smile to your face as you dropped your lip from your teeth, a sign that you were allowing yourself the honesty you so craved with Patrick. He resumed his hand movements around your most sensitive spot, causing you to let out a symphony of high pitched gasps. His fingers moved away then, moving down and slipping inside of you, first one, then another. The stretch was unfamiliar and hurt a bit, something your scrunched eyebrows didn't hide, but he did not move them for a moment, allowing you to adjust. "All will be well," he cooed into your ear, lips brushing against your skin. "I just need to warm you up."

His fingers began to move, first only in and out at a steady pace, but soon replaced by him scissoring his fingers deep inside of you, your walls squuezing him tightly. "Good sir..." you sighed in pleasure.

"Patrick," he corrected. "You may call me by my God given name: Patrick."

"Patrick..." you sighed again as he quickened the pace of his fingers. To your surprise, though, he pulled his fingers out abruptly. You almost protested, but he swiftly replaced his fingers with his cock, pushing lightly at your entrance.

"May I," he asked, looking into you eyes unwaveringly.

"Please," you nearly moaned in response. He followed your request, sheathing himself inside of you slowly, allowing you time to adjust to the thickness and length that so differed from that of his fingers. He watched your reaction carefully, taking in the way your breath hitches and your eyes flutter shut, eyebrows knitting together in both pleasure and pain. You inhaled sharply as he bottoms out, feeling as if he was practically prodding at your stomach.

"Are you ready for me to move," he inquired, eyes lidded and breathing already heavy in awe of you beneath him.

Looking up at him then, as if he were an angel or possibly some type of temptation sent by the devil that you had so easily fallen for, like Eve and the apple, you yearned to take a bite. "Patrick," it felt unfamiliar to address him so informally, but there was an undeniable intimacy in doing so as well. "If I should wait any longer it may kill me."

With that, he began moving, his pace quick but not agonizing, instead quite tender. You cried out, moans, sighs, and gasps leaving your lips repeatedly as his hips met yours time and time again. His gaze didn't leave yours, except when he would close his eyes, losing himself in a particularly deep thrust. His skin on yours was warm, a stark difference from your naturally cold body. "God, Princess, you are better than I've ever imagined."

The thought that he had imagined this with you made you feel elated, but you couldn't even bring yourself to offer a witty reply, overtaken by pleasure. "P- Patrick," you moaned, your whole body feeling hot suddenly. He quickened his pace just a bit, leaning in to suck at your neck as his other hand came up to toy with your hardened nipples. It felt so sinful but so perfect and right. How could something this good ever be wrong?

At his added touch, hips still pistoning in and out of you, it all felt like too much. Your stomach began to tighten, walls clenched tightly around him, bringing him to an almost sorry state as his jaw went slack, eyes closing suddenly and his thrusts becoming sloppier. It was impossible to restrain yourself as your hips began bucking up to meet his. "Please, please, please," you didn't even know what you were asking for but you knew you needed it.

"I'm there too, Princess. Come on, let's finish together..." he moved his hand from your chest to you clit, rubbing swift circles as he slammed his hips into yours. Pleasure finally overtook you entirely as you fluttered around him, body stiffening and falling weak as you reach your high. He pulled out of you quickly, his hand moving to finish himself off lazily on your stomach through stifled grunts. When you were both completely spent, he momentarily laid next to you in bed, both of you looking up at the grand vaulted ceilings of your bedchambers.

"Thank you, Patrick, for showing me a kindness I should never know how to repay," you whisper softly. He sits up slightly, turning to you and offering a chaste kiss to your cheek.

"You should never have to 'repay' me. After all, I live to serve you, my dear Princess."

[sleepingorshifting]

Smitten..!

pinkmermaid!reader x soft!rafe

plot : reader gets super drunk at a party her and Rafe are at, and is suddenly smitten for Rafe.

warnings : alcohol, but overall none - its just fluff :)

word count : 566

authors note : First fic, kinda nervous ;) - masterlist coming soon

"Yo Rafe, you seen your girl?" Topper asks, appearing behind Rafe, beer in hand.

"Nah, why?" Rafe asks, slowly sipping at his own beer.

"Because man" he laughs, "she's suuuuuuper drunk" Topper exclaims, also super drunk.

"Oh god" Rafe groans, expecting the worst. Maybe you'd thrown up and he would have to help clean you up, or maybe you had done something stupid like fallen into the pool.

Rafe turns around as he begins making his way through the sea of people, shoving them aside as he tries to find you, his girl.

As he steps outside where the party continued, he looked around before hearing a familiar gasp.

"Rafey babyyy!!" you giggle, throwing up your arms for a hug, two solo cups in hand.

"Oh baby" he sighs in relief, hugging you back. He takes the cups out of your hand while you were distracted as he begins asking you questions.

"Having fun baby?" he asks, placing a kiss on your forehead.

"mmhmm" you mumble, your head pressed into his chest.

"Missed you" he admits as he holds you close.

"Did you know that you smell really really nice Rafey?" you ask him, taking in the scent of his shirt.

"Wha- did I know that I smell nice? What?" he asks, confused.

"Nyeah, you smell really really really nice" you giggle. "And have I ever told you how much I love your huuuuuge bisceps?"

"Babe what's got into you?" he laughs.

Although he had to admit your behaviour was strange, he wasn't exactly complaining. It wasn't every day his girl was smitten over him.

"Nothing, just love. Loves gotten into me" you smile, pulling yourself off of him to take a look at his face. "My handsome boy" you admire as you brush your hands over his jawline with a drunk pout.

"You're so cute like this" he grins, picking you up. "But, I do think its time to go back home missy, you're too drunk" he says sternly.

"Nooo Rafey noo" you groan, kicking your legs in the air dramatically. "Put me down right now mister" you demand, grumpily hitting his chest lightly. "Or else I'm going to have to punish you, and I hate punishing cutie patooties" you say, your nose scrunching.

"Oh I'm a cutie patootie now huh?" he laughs as he unlocks his truck.

"mmhmm" you nod.

"Alright in the car now babe", he says as he opens the door like a gentleman, helping you up into your seat.

He shuts the door and walks around to his side of the truck, turning the truck on.

"Seatbelt baby" he reminds. After getting no immediate response from you he turns to see you asleep, leant against the window. He sighs as he does the seatbelt up for you, and leans your chair back slightly so you would be more comfortable.

As he was about to start driving he pauses for a second, turning to face you as he looked down at your sleeping figure. He places a gentle kiss on the top of your head before driving off into the night, leaving the roaring party behind.

The entire drive back, he kept stealing small glances at you, making sure you were sleeping soundly and comfortably, occaisionally patting your head lightly.

Maybe it wasn't just you smitten tonight, but Rafe as well. But I guess you probably won't remember in the morning anyways...

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Not a Word 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, violence, parental abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a life in hiding, away from your father and the world, until a man decides to drag you into the light. (non-verbal reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note:😻.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The cops wade in and out of the house as your world turns as dusky as the ocean depths. You sit at the table, staring as the smell of seasoned pork wafts in the air with the voices and the crackle of radios. Footsteps go back and forth down the hall as shadows loom over you.  

The one across from you says your name. Again. Officer Bolton has thinning gray hair but a thick mustache. You know him. He knew your dad and would stop by whenever his cruiser needed a top-up. 

“I need ya to write it down, miss,” he taps on the notepad in front of you. “Since ya can’t talk. Need a written statement anyway.” 

You blink at him. You feel sick. The smell of the cooking meat is making it worse. You frown and get up. You go to the stove and turn the dial off. It’s probably dried out anyway. 

“Miss,” Bolton calls after you. 

A sniff comes from behind you and you turn. Sy enters with another officer; Private West. He’s probably about your age. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen as many of us in one place,” West says in a tone brighter than the circumstance. 

“Well, it’s a sight to see, isn’t it? Old Don, crushed...” 

You wobble forward and latch onto the back of the chair. You can hear the impact of Sy’s fist over and over. You glance at him as his brow furrows. You just got to tell the same story he did. The one he went over before they got there. 

“It’s her daddy,” Sy says as he comes forward to help you into the chair. 

You sit and rub your throat. You don’t have much of a choice. If you tell the truth, it doesn’t get you much. Your dad is still gone. You don’t know that anyone would believe it anyway. He always told them all you were too stupid. 

“Sorry, miss,” West scratches the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean nothing.” 

You stare at the paper and pick up the pen. Your hand shakes as you hover it over the page. What happens after? What happens if you don’t listen? Will Sy hurt you too? 

You put the nib to the paper and lean forward. It’s like writing a story. You go through what he told you too. You were in the kitchen and you heard a loud noise... 

“Good girl,” Officer Bolton praises. “We just need that statement then we can go file the report. They’ll have that body down at the morgue by midnight.” 

“Awful stuff,” Sy shudders. You almost believe him. 

“Should we keep someone here?” West asks. 

“Ya think the engine’s got a mind of its own,” Bolton scoffs over the scratching of the pen. “Sy, you gon’ look after the girl? Don’t think she ever spent a night without her daddy.” 

Just like always, you’re not there. They talk about you like a thing. Like you can’t understand them. You’re just the same burden you always were. 

“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? Her daddy just gave us his blessing, like I was telling the Private. You know, I offered to help finish up that old Bronco so we could talk about the wedding...” 

“Blessing?” Bolton leans back and stretches his arms behind his head, “well, how about that? Syverson, you a good man. Knowing she need someone, huh?” 

“She’s a nice woman,” he puts his hand on the back of your chair. “Quiet. And she makes a hell of a dinner. Seeing as you and the boys came all the way out, I’m sure you can help out with the roast she was slavin’ over. Can’t have it goin’ to waste.” 

You put the pen down. That’s it. The lies are in ink. 

You stand up and go to the stove. This is how it will be. Same as it ever was but it’s Sy now. You open the oven door and put on the mitts to take out the pan. 

“Does smell good,” Bolton says. “My old lady always overheats the damn thing and she got not taste for flavourings.” 

“If you don’t mind,” West adds. “I usually just pop a frozen pizza in after my shift.” 

“Y’all been so good about Don and there’s lots to go around.” Sy affirms as you carve up the tender meat. Not dry at all though to you, the smell is sickening. 

“It is late, past dinner, ain’t it?” Bolton grumbles. 

“We’ll get some plates down. Least we can do is feed y’all,” Sy drawls. 

You keep your head down and obey his indirect orders. You blood is a flow of ice. You’re trembling as you scoop the gravy and potatoes over the roast.  

Your dad’s dead. It’s a startling reality that hasn’t quite sunk in. That’s not what has you unnerved. No, it’s that new truth that you’re struggling to accept. Sy. He’s not going anywhere. 

You understand now what he was asking your dad. He wants to marry you, but why? Why you? Your dad wasn’t wrong. You’re boring. You’re dull. There’s something wrong with you. So why would anyone want you when your only family could never even stand you? 

💍

When the house is quiet, you don’t know what to do. When it was you and your dad, he ignored you. It was just like being alone. But with Sy, everything is different. Nothing can be like it once was. Like it always was. 

He calls your name from down the hall. You haven’t moved from the kitchen table since you served up the roast to the men invading your home. You didn’t kill your dad but you feel like you helped. 

If you could just speak up and tell Sy to go home before everything turned bad. No, you just stood there and listened. You put your back to it all and then... 

You get up and peek around the corner. His silhouette is like a cloud of gloom at the end. You shuffle toward him, hands fold, feet heavy. He flips on the light and you squint. 

“Hey, sugar, you tired? It’s real late, isn’t it?” 

You shrug and look at your bedroom door then back to him. You flinch as his large hand lands on your shoulder. You pout up at him and hold back a quiver of fear. You can feel how easily he hurt your dad. 

“I’m gonna have a shower, wash the day off,” he says. You notice his tie is undone. “You go on and lay down. You deserve a rest.” 

You lower your chin and he catches it in his hand. You bat your lashes and stare up at him. You move your hands behind you and bunch your fingers until your nails jab your palms. He leans in as you stand rigid and terrified. 

His lips meet yours and his coarse beard tickles you. He hums as he kisses you softly. You squeeze your eyes shut as your heart thumps. You’ve never been kissed before. Never even thought of it because it was just never something that would happen to you. 

You feel as if you might tip over as he pulls away. You stay like that as his hand falls away and he clears his throat. You open your eyes and blink. 

“Was that... okay?” He drags his hand over his beard. “Ahh, probably scratchy,” he combs his finger through the hair. “I’ma get nice and fresh for ya, sugar.” 

Your lips are tingly and hot. You turn and push through your bedroom door. He’s watching you but you’re too afraid to look back. 

You close the door but don’t latch it. You don’t want to make him angry. He exhales and his weight creaks in the floor. The bathroom door clicks and the shower buzzes shortly after. 

You turn on the light and glance around. You sit at the folding table. The small beads lay in their clusters, sorted by colour, but you can’t bring yourself to put them into the grid. Your vision blurs as you languish in the aftermath. 

You should cry. Your dad is gone. You should be sad. You’re scared, you’re confused, you’re lost, but there’s nothing in your heart missing.  

The air ripples and Sy’s yawn frightens you. His shadow moves into the room behind you. He grunts as you watch his arms stretch above him in his grey silhouette. Even then, he is huge. 

“You should come to bed, sugar,” he girds as he sits and tests the frame of your bed with a bounce. “Come ‘ere.” 

You look down at your hands and splay your fingers over your legs. You slowly stand and turn to him. He tuts as you gape at his shirtless form. He wears only a pair of plaid boxers. You gulp. You’ve never seen a man like that. Through the fabric, you can’t even trace... well... 

“You can’t sleep in that, can ya?” He says. 

You peer down and up again. You jump into action and go to your dresser. You take out a loose pair of linen pants and a bulkier tee. Before he can react or you can think, you flit out. 

You lock yourself in the bathroom and change. The familiar task keeps your panic from flowing over. When you’re done, you hesitate. You gather up your clothes and face the door. You have to go back now. 

You shudder and leave the bathroom. You enter your room and go straight to the basket of dirty clothes. You drop in the day’s outfit and stay facing the corner. He coughs. 

“Turn the light off, sug.” 

You keep your gaze averted as you obey. You turn off the light and tiptoe to the bed. You linger before it. You wince as he locks onto your wrist and tugs you closer. Your knees hit the frame and you let him bring you down next to him. It’s a small bed, narrow just for him, crowded with both of you. 

He nestles you against him as you curl up on your side. He brings the blanket over both of you and hugs you snugly. He nuzzles your hair and drones in content. 

“Isn’t this nice, huh?” He asks. 

You can’t move. If you had a voice to speak, you couldn’t. You just give in to his power. That’s what always kept you safe. To appease is to survive. 

You close your eyes and he yawns again, “I’m beat too,” he rasps. “But I’ll be all too happy to wake up next to you.” 

His breath puffs into your hair and swathes your scalp in damp heat. As each intake and exhale slows and steadies, he snores like rumbling thunder. It isn’t the noise that keeps you awake though. 

The night wears on with the subtle movement of shadows through the window. You listen to the house and its creaks and cracks. Even with Sy wrapped around you, you feel alone. Desolate. You wallow with the whirling winds as they swim through the leaves. 

Morning slowly peeks over the window sill but your world is no brighter. You grow restless and squirm beneath his arm. You turn on your back as you try to peel it away. He grunts and draws his hand back, cupping your chest to your horror. 

You clasp onto his hand and he purrs, “so soft.” 

You pinch his forearm then slap his bicep. He can’t touch you like that! You didn’t say he could. His eyes snap open and he leans back against the wall with a grunt. 

“Hmph, sugar, what’s going on?” He asks groggily. 

You sit up and cross your arms over your chest. You put your chin down and scowl. He reaches for you again, this time he strokes your arm, and you swat him away. He took your dad, he made you lie, and now he’s just touching you! Kissing you! 

You turn quickly and hop off the bed. He calls your name and you wave at him dismissively. You hurry from the room without looking back. Your heart races as you listen for his pursuit. You don’t hear it, even as you get to the kitchen. 

You stop on the tile and take a breath. Coffee. You can handle that. He drinks it, just like your dad. You remember. If men are all alike, then all you need to do is cook and clean and keep to yourself. 

[screamingcrows]

Between Desires

Notes: This was supposed to be a fic about massaging Ratio. This fic is not about massaging Ratio. Steal for AI or anything else and I'll make sure your bathwater is forever infected with Legionella spp. Tags: Dr. Ratio x fem reader, irresponsible bath behaviour, mostly fluff, oral f receiving, established relationship, nsft end, 1.7k Minors DNI

"-came to the conclusion that while each perceivable object was, on a grander scale, made from incomprehensibly small pieces, all of them identical, order had been imposed on the system to-"

A little twitch and the following motions of the warm bathwater had Veritas diverting his attention from the pages down to where you rested between his legs. Only then did he notice the soft snores accompanying your breathing. To say the sound and sight of you so relaxed made his heart soar would be an understatement.

As long as you weren't swallowing bathwater again.

Although Veritas would've preferred for you to stay awake, somewhere down the line, he had become quite accustomed to your small interruptions. Huffs, chuckles, sighs, questions, corrections. Your curious mind was something to be treasured, some of your commentary insightful in ways that had Veritas questioning the value of all his titles and diplomas.

The foam had all but dissipated and your scented candles almost fully burned down, the intermingling fragrances heavy and comforting in the air. A trip past the artisan who made both would be due soon. He set the book down onto the small bench beside the tub, finding himself no longer in the right frame of mind to read.

Veritas had long since had to accept that between savoring how perfectly your curves slotted against him and enjoying a book by himself, the first would always come out on top. It was an entirely different matter when you were listening as well, of course.

If the old theories of a cosmic mind and the nature of all material had been true, then Veritas had no doubt he was made of the same as you, his being constantly drawn in by yours. Just as how both of his hands had unconsciously sought the softness of your stomach, thumbs tracing the wet skin with the reverence of an artist touching a masterpiece.

Not his masterpiece. No, you did not belong to anyone but yourself, and Veritas considered himself blessed to have you so close. Blessed in far more important ways than an Aeon's gaze could ever grant.

Vanilla invaded his senses after pressing a tender kiss to your wet hair, unfortunately, the taste of soap that followed had him tensing with effort to suppress a cough.

"Mmm… I'm listening…" Your words were a little slurred, your sleepy mind probably thinking he'd cleared his throat to get your attention.

A small smile tugged at his lips, arms fully encircling your waist to maneuver you properly onto his lap, "Of course, so what do you think?"

"What I think?" Veritas couldn't help but smile at the uncertainty in your sleepy voice. He guided your head back, carefully bringing a handful of water up to rinse the remaining soap from your wet strands. "I think someone is trying poke fun at me."

"Do you now?" Warmth bloomed in his chest at the sight of your hand reaching behind your head, the familiar playful tug of his hair making it impossible to keep from smiling into your hair, "by preemptively assuming the intentions of others, we become less inclined to recognize non-verbal cues, subsequently hindering genuine interactions."

Barely had Veritas processed your unimpressed hum before a splash of lukewarm water doused him. "And childish attempts at deception are rewarded with equally immature retaliations, plaster-head."

After wiping his eyes, Veritas could no longer resist the urge to curl around you, letting his lips trail gently along the curvature of your shoulder and licking up a few droplets of water. Only when your breath came out shaky did he pull away, taking a moment to appreciate how perfectly his palms cupped your chest.

There were numerous reasons to despise how easily blood pooled in his lower half, the simple pressure of your thighs enough to have his skin burning and mind buzzing. Countless unfortunate situations had arisen and been narrowly avoided due to how easily you affected him. A fleeting kiss, a teasing whisper, a light brush of hands. All of which had caused him to throb with desire in the past, just as he did now, burying his head back into the crook of your neck.

But no inconvenience mattered in the face of your content hums, not even the knowledge that continuing to rut against your thighs while submerged in water would leave his skin irritated for at least a day. Under normal circumstances, Veritas would be the one holding his desires back until both your comfort was guaranteed, even as need seared every nerve in his body.

Which was exactly why feeling you pull away had his eyes widening. Water sloshed against the sides as you stood, leaving Veritas to frown despite the tantalizing view of shadows dancing across your backside as you stretched. "Better get out before I fall properly asleep, or you turn into a raisin, whichever comes first."

A raisin. He huffed in (mostly) faux indignation, running pruney fingers through his hair before hoisting himself up as well, "Some would argue the heavy snoring earlier was indicative of already being 'properly asleep' as you say," he carefully stepped onto the fuzzy bathmat - acquired to combat your complaints about cold feet despite being a breeding ground for microorganisms - reaching for a pair of towels and pressing one into your outstretched arms.

He went rigid with anticipation at the light press of your body against his back, mind readily abandoning the jars lined up on the counter and letting the years of practiced movements take over. If there had been awards given out for restraint alone, Veritas deserved it for getting through the deep breaths it took to have his half hard member not jump at the first sign of attention. "Hurry," your breath danced along his skin, "or I truly will be asleep before you can join me."

Had he been a simpler creature, Veritas would not have hesitated to abandon rime and reason to follow at your heel. The vision reflected in the mirror was not one of myth, not an elven girl dancing and laughing in a marsh, shrouded by mist just waiting for someone to ensnare in their madness. Your back was turned, no gaping hollow anywhere to be seen.

Still, based on ability alone, the accusation wasn't entirely without merit - you had at least captured and ensnared him without any trouble. Three of four applied, cleanse, toner, serum, moisturizer. The eye cream wouldn't be necessary today. Hadn't been for a few weeks.

Veritas couldn't help but snort quietly to himself at the sight meeting his eye upon stepping out from the bathroom. Fae creature his foot. There was nothing graceful or even remotely elegant about your current predicament. Face down on the bed and spread out like a sea star. And somehow, it was all the more appealing to him. What need was there to drape your body in silks and jewels when nothing could be as beautiful as the story told by every mark life had left.

If sayings were to be taken literally, Veritas' heart would have collapsed in on itself long ago with how tightly it squeezed. Knowing exactly what was needed to resuscitate him, little time was wasted lingering further. Observation constitutes a sound first step in most investigations, but Veritas had already taken six with determination to cross the room, knees swiftly making contact and sinking into the mattress.

"So slow…." You whined, the sound regrettably going directly to Veritas' groin.

He couldn't help but smile at the string of content sighs that followed his lips' featherlight path along the back of your thigh. So delicate beneath him, Veritas kissed the raised lines adorning your legs, the ones that always had you fretting, before moving further up the bed. It was all he could do to not immediately cage you in as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Memento vivere."

Despite your proclaimed exhaustion, your hips raised with both speed and precision, drawing a soft gasp from Veritas' lips at the teasing press. "Mm, yes well.. To the late are left the bones.."

Oh Aeons above, your sleepy voice was driving him mad.

As soon as his hands had found their home on your hips, it was impossible not to give a tentative thrust forward, just enough to have him shuddering at your inviting heat. It treaded the narrow path of his desire, not the scalding heat of coffee nor the faint whisp from a candle. Before you had time to complain, for he knew you would at his withdrawal, Veritas had moved to kneel behind you, inhaling the heady scent of your arousal.

No matter the choice of fragrance you chose to rub into your skin, honey, almond, roses, berries, vanilla, you'd gone through a plethora of variants over the years, nothing could rival what met him upon gingerly parting your slick folds. One arm had already wrapped securely around your thighs, knowing how you always squirmed at first.

Veritas couldn't help but groan at the first languid pass of his tongue, gathering up your essence to taste. It always stroked his ego how you shivered, even more so when your hole clenched to eagerly ask for more. So much practice and observation had gone into knowing precisely the pressure and angle at which to nose your clit to keep those exquisite sounds from pouring forth.

Clearly, your exhaustion had been quite honest, not even bothering to put up a display of embarrassment as you usually did.

Instead, he felt an amused grin tug at his lips when your hips rocked back to chase the tip of his tongue. The only thing to lament as Veritas continued to work you open on his tongue was how the position wouldn't allow for observing your expressions.

"Veri-," your whine barely pierced his concentration, fingers moving to properly grasp your thighs, peeling back one work of art to better perceive another. "…more"

Usually, a 'please' should have found its way into your request (which would at this time have been denied regardless, for Veritas was far from satiated) but the picturesque arch of your body had him keen on heeding your desires. Just for today.

"Mm," his fingers tightened their grip, his heart fluttering at the contentment hanging in the air, "patience, remember?"

[aziraphales-library]

Back to bug you again! Randomly thought about "there was only one bed" and then immediately randomly thought "lol there was only one body" as in for some reason I was secretly starving for possession fics? Not a lost fic ask. Just a "got any for me?"

Read a great one, Tether by Gingercat a while back.

But it is a crime that "there was only one body" does not seem to be a tag.

Basically I mean I'm ISO fics with any unfortunate events that cause either Az or Crowley to have to possess the other's body. And most likely it devolves pretty quickly from there.

There is not a 'there was only one body' tag, but there IS a sharing a body tag. Here is a selection for you...

Possession by spunknbite (E)

“So my idea, and please don’t dismiss it offhand - ” Aziraphale settles back against the pillows, “I think you should possess me.” “That’s a terrible idea,” Crowley says flatly.

And I Would Hide My Face In You by amerande (E)

It had been six thousand years, more or less, since Aziraphale had last been without a corporation. He'd forgotten how different some things were. OR: The one where they share a body.

Bonded by Guanin (T)

Aziraphale had almost died, almost fucking died, and now he was sharing Crowley's body, his spirit surrounding Crowley, a loving, pulsing presence right in the very heart of him. He had never been this close to Aziraphale before, had never dreamed that it would be possible. He was sorely glad that he didn’t need to breathe, for he wouldn’t be able to manage it with Aziraphale’s presence making him feel drunk and mellow. It was a miracle that he could drive at all. Aziraphale had grafted himself onto Crowley’s soul, the border between them permeable and merging at the edges a little more with every second that passed by.

I've Got You Under My Skin by redundant_angel (E)

Crowley must possess Aziraphale in order to prove to Hell that he's worthy of keeping his demonic powers. Aziraphale agrees to help. ------ “Regulation demands that you must prove to us that you are worthy of your demonic status by possessing another being and having them bend to Satan’s will.” “Oh, is that all?" said Crowley.

Meanwhile… by TheTalkingPeanut (M)

My alternative take of these scenes/the near-ending of the 6th episode (and that one from the 5th). I got a 'what if' in my head after I heard these lines: "I just need to find a receptive body. It's harder than you think. I just need to find a body...pity I can't inhabit yours." To which MY mind added his response: "Why not? Who said you can't? I'm right here, Aziraphale. Take me."

A bit snug by fenrislorsrai (T)

“I do need a body. Pity I can’t inhabit yours. Angel, demon...probably explode…” --- And there was only one bed body. They can't be made to fight if they're both in the same body. It's the surest way to cancel each other out and make sure they won't have to face each other at Armageddon if they can't stop the end. They may not explode, but there's definitely other consequences. Not least of which is getting to know the parts of each other they hid from each other or were too afraid to admit to. What can they learn from each other's experiences? What ARE bodies? After all this time, they're finding their ideas of such were perhaps too limited by what they'd been told. What is Self and what part of it is defined by other's perception of you? and what if that Other is now with you? Can you still deny you are worthy of love when you must direct some of it back at yourself to love another who’s currently part of you. Which is all very serious but also they bicker a lot, flirt with someone in same body (awkward), have Opinions about how to take their tea, make a demonic pact, and confuse Gabriel with math.

And the one you mentioned...

Tether by Ginger_Cat (E)

Aziraphale, Supreme Archangel of the Heavenly Host, is just minding his own business. Really. It's not like he's trying to get summoned to Earth during highly important archangelic duties. And Crowley's not trying to summon him, he swears, but somehow it still keeps happening... Now, if they could only figure out why?

- Mod D

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Friendship In Escape

Summary: Steve Rogers x fe!Reader -> After escaping a party, you meet Steve Rogers. It's in a simple conversation, you and him find common ground and from that a friendship grows. Question is, will either of you ever find the courage to act of the underlying feelings?

Disclaimer: This is a LONG one. Spoilers ahead for most of the main Captain America/Avengers films from The Avengers. Also, there's probably a lot of plot holes in this fic so we're just gonna ignore them. Slow, slow burn. Angst-y moments. Found family, fluff, taking care of each other. Some swearing. Reader helps Steve adjust to the modern world. Lots of hugging. Probably spelling and grammar mistakes but we're gonna ignore them, too (it's late and I'm pretty sure my brain is fried). Hope you enjoy it <3 Not proof read.

The party had been humming to life for an hour or more before the honorable host finally showed his face. Dawned in a big name branded suit, Tony Stark stood at the top of the stairs, calling for people to start the party. 

There was meant to be music, laughter, too many drinks and a fight he’ll be able to tell a story about at the next party. And you were sure, by the end of the night, he’d get his wish. 

This party in particular had been the third you’d been dragged along to in the space of a month. It hadn’t changed since you were a child. 

Posh names belonging to posh people with deep pockets and, when the time called for it, had long arms, too. The amount of money that was gathered from parties like this were worth the events being held. 

But never once had you felt comfortable. 

It wasn’t the shoes or the dress. In fact, getting ready was the best part of the night. But being dragged to the same people, with the same stories, being told about the same single people in their family, their sons, nephews, cousins. Being told to stand and take a picture with a smile that will let everyone know how fun the parties are. 

But they weren’t. 

For others they were. But for you? You had more fun spending time alone in the libraries at University, studying, answering company emails and working, mostly, from behind the curtain. 

If you could have done that, you would have avoided the parties all together. Relationships with other businesses were already solidified and had been for almost fifty years. 

So, after the fourth hour of walking around the gala room, standing and being forced to listen to the same conversations that you’d heard your whole life, listening to people be more interested in what Tony Stark had placed around his hosting room, and being introduced to another twenty something with a multi-billion dollar company behind his family’s name, but no integrity, you found your escape. 

“Darling, where are you going?” Your mother asked as you handed her your drink. 

“Just to the bathroom.”

She gave you a smile. “Hurry back. Sandra told me she’s bringing her cousin. Special invite from Mr Stark himself.”

You forced your millionth smile of the night and nodded. “Will do.”

As you took the stairs up towards the upper floors and bathrooms, you looked down over the edge of the balcony. They were preoccupied, listening to somebody’s story. 

Rather than taking a right, you took a left, bumping into a waitress. 

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Can I help you with something?”

You looked around you. “Just promise you didn’t see me. I need a break.”

The waitress just smiled. “There’s some rooms that haven't been decorated yet. Just take a right at the end of the hall.”

You looked down the hall, looked back and smiled at her. The first genuine smile of the evening. 

“Thank you.”

She shrugged. “This is my fifth party helping the host. We all need a break every once in a while.”

You thanked her again before walking down the hall. The minute you turned the corner, the party seemed like it was miles away. Every once in a while, you heard a roar of laughter but it never got any louder than that. 

With a sigh of relief, you decided to explore the different rooms. Some had tarp over the entrances, the insides not being suitable to survive at least an hour in. From holes in the floors to fresh paint fumes and drying plaster. 

But then one at the very end of the hall had a door. So, taking your chance, you opened it. 

“Oh!”

Inside stood a man dressed in a woolen style suit, his tie loose around his neck. He looked as if he’d been pacing and deep in thought before you’d opened the door. 

“I-” You looked around you, fearful you were about to get into trouble. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone- Sorry.”

“Trying to escape the party, too?”

You stopped trying to close the door and looked at him. You couldn’t put your finger on it; maybe it was the way he stood, maybe it was the tone in his voice or maybe it was the way he was looking at you, but you saw something trustworthy in him. 

An unlikely friend in a place where you had none. 

“What gave it away?”

He smiled, softly. “You’re welcome to stay, if you’d like.”

You stepped inside. “Thank you.”

“I- I’m Steve, by the way.” He held out his hand and you shook it. 

“Y/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

For the second time that evening, you gave a genuine smile. “Likewise. So, what are you hiding from? A match-making mother, or a business minded father?”

“Neither.” Steve laughed a little. 

You walked further into the room before finding a spot with less sawdust on the ground. You’d been on your feet for a long time. You found the perfect spot against a wall between two windows. 

“Wow,” you brushed what sawdust you could with your feet before turning around and tucking the skirt of your dress down. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

He chuckled. “Not a big one.”

You shrugged, stretching your legs out and crossing them at your ankles. You patted the ground beside you. “My parents want me to socialise. I’d say talking with you qualifies as that. I’ve got time.”

Steve smiled as he watched you, finally agreeing to sit beside you. 

And for the first time in almost a month, you weren’t bored. 

Talking and listening to Steve didn’t make you so bored out of your mind you would have rather ran a cross country race. Talking with Steve was the first time you felt comfortable at one of these fancy galas. 

You’d come to learn that he was, in fact, the man they’d dug out of the ice. That he was the soldier lost to time, being forced into a new century without any idea how to deal with it. 

“I know a little of what that’s like,” you admitted to him. “To feel lost. I’ve been attending different parties like this since I was a kid. And never once have I felt comfortable attending them. I can talk to everyone in the room and feel completely loney, but I can sit on my own in a quiet place like this and…feel comfortable and be myself.”

“I had that once.” Steve told you. “I’d say back home, but I’m still in the same country. To be honest, I don’t know what anything is outside of this room.”

Then an idea popped into your head. “I could help.”

“How?” 

You shrugged. “I could help you adjust. I’m no therapist but I know how most things work in the 21st century. Movies, media, books. You said they gave you a document packet?”

Steve nodded, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a folded over thick document. 

“With all the stores and street names, I don’t recognise anything anymore.”

Opening it up, Steve handed it to you. It had an address, some pictures, different appointments and different wifi codes. 

“I know where this is.”

“You do?” Steve seemed surprised. They’d given him the address three days ago with no instruction on how to find it. They just told him something about Google Maps. Whatever a Google was. 

You nodded. “It looks kinda old.”

Steve shrugged. “‘Guess it’s their way of giving me some familiarity.” 

You shook your head. “When do you move in?”

“End of the week.”

“I’ve got a meeting in the morning, but I can take the rest of the day – help you move in, if you’d like.”

Steve looked at you. “You’d really do that for me?”

You handed his document back and nodded. “I would. Just because you were given an image for them to control, doesn’t mean that they should take advantage of the person you are behind it all.”

“That’s really kind of you, ma’am.” 

You smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

For an hour more, you and Steve just talked. Filled with quiet laughter and genuine smiles, you and Steve found an unlikely friendship in each other that evening. 

A friendship that would only grow stronger and stronger over the years. 

At the end of that week, you met Steve outside the SI building before walking with him towards the underground and pointing out different landmarks for him to recognise. A university campus, a museum, a deli store that served the best sandwiches. You explained about the times for the trains that headed towards the different states. Finally, walking down the different streets, Steve started to recognise a few different places. New businesses stood in their places, but the bricks around them were the same. 

“Pretty sure I got beat up in that alley.”

You followed Steve’s eye-line before looking back at him. “Bet your mom was beside herself with the amount of times you came home with a black eye.”

Steve held a reminiscent smile on his face as he looked at his shoes. “Just a kid from Brooklyn who was too dumb enough to run away from the fight.”

You watched Steve for a moment; something in his tone told you those weren’t just his words. 

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

You took Steve’s hand, leading him down the street before you both arrived at the apartment block. A couple of younger kids were playing out in the street, kicking a football around until they scored it round the corner of the building, one of their mother’s yelling to play in the back. 

A guy with a coffee cart served passers by heading back from their lunch break, on the corner. 

Unlocking the front door, you and Steve walked up the first few flights of stairs before finally reaching his new home. 

As Steve opened up the door and walked inside, he was met with a living space that probably hadn’t had someone live there…maybe ever. The furniture seemed old, the kitchen table was rusting a little at the bottom of the legs and the curtains had seen better days. 

A few boxes had been stacked by the entrance way with different labels scribbled on them. 

You rifled through them. “Bed sheets, books, clothes.”

You took a note of the size label. “You know, I think one of my friends might have some clothes you’d like. She runs a clothing company that does everything from a vintage style to modern day. I’m sure she’d love to let you rifle through her products; see if there’s anything you’d like to take off her hands.”

You turned around but Steve hadn’t been listening. Instead, he’d been focusing on the case files that were strewn across the kitchen table. 

Standing beside him, keeping your eye on his reactions, you looked down at the table before you came across a picture. You had to take a breath. 

Steve had told you a little about his friends from the war. The Howling Commandos. 

“Is that them?”

Steve nodded.

It took Steve a while to get used to his new apartment, but with your help, he found it becoming a home. You helped him change the bedsheets and work out his washing machine before putting your phone number into his phone. 

“Think of it like a telegram,” you told him. “But rather than waiting weeks to hear back, it’s almost instantly.”

In the weeks that followed, you met Steve at his apartment every few days. On the weekends, you showed him around some of the thrift stores where he’d found a new kitchen table and some dishes to use in the kitchen. 

One of your friends – the same friend that ran a clothing company – had delivered some new curtains. They were plain, but they were better than the ones Steve had been left with. 

Meanwhile, Steve found an old gym where he could spend his evenings and, with your help, had figured out the basics of a phone and computer. 

The one Shield had given him was far too high tech, even for you. So, you had brought Steve one of your old ones. It was still pretty modern, but it was a lot simpler to use than the Stark Industries issued one. 

Then he got pulled into helping Shield with a threat that, to him, would have been best left in the ocean. 

News reports came in thick and fast during the attack on New York. You hadn’t heard from Steve during it, until you nearly ran into him in the middle of the street as mechanical…whatever the hell they were, were flying through the sky. 

“Why are you still in the city?! Everyone needs to get out.”

You nodded. “I know, but people needed help.” You looked down at his shield. “You know how to use that?”

Steve nodded. 

“Can you break a lock with it?”

Steve followed you as you ran down an alley before disappearing around the corner and to an employee entrance. Neither you or Steve could tell what had welded a lock shut, but considering some kind of blue weapon lay not too far out in the middle of the street with similar residue being left of the door, you could only gather it had been some alien technology. 

It took a few tries but the lock finally busted open and a bunch of parents with their kids came flooding out of the doors. As you and Steve started directing people to safety out of the city, you saw the way the kids looked up at Steve. 

The whole image of Captain America had been controlled by the government, making him an image away from Steve Rogers. But nothing could control the way those kids looked up at Steve as their hero. 

A comic book hero that existed in real life. 

“Ma’am, is that everyone?” Steve asked one of the women that left the room. 

She seemed distressed as she looked around. “I-I think so.” Then she ran off with the others. 

Something in your gut told you to check the rest of the room, and Steve followed you inside. 

“Go! Help the others! I can look after myself.”

“But-”

“Steve.” You looked at him. “Go. They need you.”

It took him a minute but he took your word for it and ran back out of the door. Meanwhile, you checked under every table and desk before something caught your eye at the side of one of the cabinets. 

A kid, no older than six. 

“Hey, honey.”

“Mommy was meant to pick me up.”

You looked around, hearing something hit a building nearby. 

“I’ll help you look for her. Can I pick you up?” The kid nodded. “I’m Y/n, what’s your name?”

“Sophie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sophie. Come on, let's go and find your mom.”

After three hours of destruction over the city, and countless injuries being collected by people, it wasn’t until a mom came running through the crowds of EMTs and doctors, screaming out for her child that you and Sophie, sitting in the back of an ambulance, looked up. 

And Sophie called out. 

Jumping from the bench, Sophie looked outside and saw her mom running through the crowd. You watched as they collided and sank to the ground. 

“I’m so sorry, baby. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why aren’t you with the rest of your class? Where are they?”

“Hey,” you said, walking behind Sophie. “They got separated when trying to clear the city.”

“Did you save her?”

“I got her out-” Suddenly, the mom crushed you with a hug. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know what I-” The tears continued to flow from her eyes. 

“It’s alright. All that matters is that she’s safe.”

“Thank you so much.”

Hours later, you had finally made it back home, had showered and switched your TV on. The news had been following updates and different people’s theories of what had happened. 

Then a knock came to your door. 

Upon opening it, you were greeted with a fresher looking Steve Rogers. 

“Shouldn’t you be with a medic?”

Steve smiled, “Shouldn’t you? Between the pair of us, I’m the one who has a serum running through their veins.”

You looked in his hand. “Is that a pizza?”

Steve nodded. “Didn’t know which kind you’d like, so I got the classic. Figured you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

Inviting him inside, Steve laid it on the coffee table. 

“Shouldn’t you be helping The Avengers or something?”

“Avengers?” Steve looked at you with a curious look. 

You just pointed at the screen. “Oh, right. Yeah, we’ve all decided to take a break. But Shield tells me they’ve finally found me a job.”

“That’s something to celebrate.”

Steve shrugged. “Kinda hard to celebrate when an entire city almost got levelled to the ground.”

You understood. “I’m gonna head back tomorrow and see if they need any help.”

“Can I come with you?” 

“You don’t have to ask, Steve.”

He smiled, if a little sheepishly. 

For the rest of the evening, you and Steve shared a pizza and talked until neither of you wanted to say anything else. 

So, you picked out a film and placed it into the DVD player. And you and Steve just sat and watched it. 

As the months passed, you and Steve slipped into a familiar routine. He got better at texting, but you’d come to find he preferred to call. And during the days he was at the training facility in Washington and devoid of signal, he’d write you letters. 

And you wrote them back. 

He’d also started keeping a list, you’d noticed, of things you’d say in passing or you’d tell him to listen to or watch. 

On the quiet afternoons you spent together, Steve would open up more. He told you more about the 40s and being in the army. He told you more about his childhood and his best friend, Bucky. 

You’d surprised him one afternoon by taking him to the Smithsonian. They had a new exhibit put up – one pillar being dedicated to Bucky and his friendship with Steve. 

In one of his final letters, he’d told you of a man he’d basically been trolling on his morning runs. You’d come to find out his name and you smiled. 

Outside of you and the members of his team, Sam Wilson was the first friend Steve had made. 

However, you didn’t get to meet him in person until you got a call from him, under Steve’s contact. Of course, the minute the headline had flashed on your screen, you’d tried to get into contact with him. He’d fallen, or rather, jumped, from an elevator and fallen a hundred feet or more to the ground. His own work seemed to be after him. 

So, when you were told he’d fallen, once more, from one of the jets and had been in surgery, you rushed to him. 

Entering his room, Natasha had been the one to take you to his room after two nurses read your name on his file but wouldn’t let you through. 

“He’s alive, as you can see.”

“If I get a call like this again, telling me you’re dead, I’ll kill you myself.” You warned Steve before you walked to his side. The bastard had the audacity to chuckle. 

“I promise. If I’m gonna die, I’ll ask your permission first.”

From behind you, you heard a voice smile. “I like her.”

“Y/n, this is Sam. Sam, this is Y/n.”

From that day on, the movie and pizza nights came to include both Sam and Natasha. However, unbeknownst to you and Steve, the movie nights also came to include the rest of the team. 

Natasha had been trained to read people. And she’d never read anyone easier than you and Steve. 

And her information soon became Clint’s information which soon became everyone’s information when he accidentally let it slip to the others. 

Tony had been planning a party. Rather, he wanted to throw one and Pepper had come up with a list of people to invite. And when she read out your name, Steve had looked up but Clint had spoken first. 

“Is that Steve’s girl?”

They all looked around at each other before looking at Steve. He had a girl?

Steve faltered. “Yes, well, no. She’s my friend. We’re friends but-”

Tony turned to Pepper. “Invite Steve’s girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends. And she doesn’t really like big parties so-”

“Invite her anyway. I can’t believe Clint knows about her before we do.” Then he turned to Natasha. “I suppose you already knew.”

She just nodded. 

And that was just the start of it. 

A few nights later, Steve had given you a heads up which you appreciated but it did put you on edge a little. But all in all, it was…fun. 

It was the first time you enjoyed yourself at a party and didn’t hate every minute of it. 

Firstly, the attire was fancy but not gala fancy. It was a celebration of Hydra finally being overthrown from Shield.

You arrived in your heels that didn’t hurt your feet so much, wide legged trousers and a graphic t-shirt. 

“Now, who is that?”

At the bar, Rhodey, Thor, Tony and Maria all stood watching as you entered the room, clearly looking for someone. Tony and Rhodey had met most of the building at the party. Maria had met them all – at the very least, she had a file on them all. 

But not on you. 

From behind the bar, Natasha leaned over. “That’s Steve’s girl.”

From the bar they watched as Sam noticed you first and called you over. You looked relieved at seeing a familiar face. Even more relieved at seeing Steve. Tony watched as Steve noticed you, too. 

The game of pool Steve had been winning at suddenly took a dip as his aim went off kilter, his attention immediately going to you. 

“Steve has a woman?” Thor asked, the other just nodded. “Well, we must meet her.”

However, as they all went to walk towards the pool table, Maria reached her hand out. “You boys swarm her, Steve will make sure you never get to speak to her again. I will go.”

And so she did. 

The others watched on as Steve introduced you to Maria, every protective instinct a man got when introducing his girlfriend to the rest of his family going up. And somehow, with simple ease, Maria had gained a small part of your friendship and led you towards the second bar. 

Meanwhile, Steve watched as you walked away, the heart in his eyes never leaving. Not even when Sam nudged him and they got back to the game. 

Throughout the night, Steve kept his eye on you. 

He almost broke the sound barrier by how quickly he turned up at your side when you were dragged into the conversation circle with most of them. 

“So, tell me.” Tony said, sitting beside you. “How did you meet our fellow Captain?”

“Tony.” Steve warned, though no true malice could be traced in his voice. 

You smiled. “It’s okay. We actually met at one of your parties.”

Tony sat back. “Really?”

You nodded. “Some fancy gala a few years back.”

Conversation between yourself and the rest of the group seemed to take a natural flow until eventually, all your nerves had subsided. 

But that didn’t stop you from needing a break by the end. Between talking with Natasha, Maria and Thor for most of the night, and beating Sam at a few rounds of pool – something Steve found incredibly entertaining,

Tony had backed Sam on his idea that you were cheating. Nobody won that many rounds of pool one after the other. So, as the others gathered and watched the game, Steve stepped forward and he covered your eyes. 

For a moment you looked up at him and smirked, and he smiled back with a light shrug of his shoulders. 

“Yes, thank you, Cap.” Sam said. “See. This will prove that she’s cheat-”

As you hit the white cue ball, everyone watched and was left speechless as every ball suddenly found its home in the pockets, leaving you with an automatic victory. 

Opening your eyes once more and standing up, you looked at the pool table with a proud look before looking at Sam. You’d never seen him as shocked. Looking at Steve, he seemed shocked but also proud. 

“Still think I’m cheating?” 

Tony just looked at you. “She’s a witch. She had to be. Were you cursed as a child? Born to some Vampire in Europe or something?”

Steve chuckled, as did you. 

“Come on, Tony. Accept your defeat.”

As the hours passed, eventually you found yourself outside on the balcony, taking a breather from the party. 

“Figured you’d find some place quiet.”

You stood back up, holding onto the balcony bar. “Hey.”

Steve smiled. “Hey. You okay? They can be a bit much.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not that. Just needed a minute. You know, this is the first time I’ve enjoyed myself at one of these?”

Steve looked up at the building before looking back at you with a smile on his face. “It is better when people aren’t trying to show you off.”

You nodded with a smile. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for escaping the last one and finding me in that room.”

It was in that moment that you realised the last time you’d gone to any kind of gala or party of the same scale was the first time you’d met Steve. 

You smiled fondly at the memory. “Thanks for not being mad when I opened the door.”

“I could never be mad at you.”

“You didn’t even know me.”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve got a good judge of character.”

You felt yourself chuckle before you looked out across the rest of the city before a cold wind blew through making you shiver. 

“Here,” Steve shrugged off his jacket but before you could tell him you were fine, he placed it over your shoulders. 

It smelt of him. 

“Thanks.”

Steve just nodded with a smile watching as you placed your arms through the holes and wrapped it a little tighter around yourself before you looked out at the rest of the city with him. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Is something going on between Maria and Sam?”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “She’ll eat him alive.”

“He might be into that.” 

Steve laughed and closed his eyes in disgust. “What makes you ask?”

You shrugged. “Just something I’ve noticed. He looks at her like she hung the moon. Though, of course, that’s when she’s not looking. When she is, it's like I’m back at school rehearsing for Much Ado About Nothing.”

Steve’s joy widened. “You were in a play?”

You laughed. “I wasn’t any good. I was only put on stage because my folks donated so much money to the school. All I wanted was to work with Tech.”

Steve chuckled. “I’d pay good money to see that. But, I get what you mean about Sam and Maria. Who knows? If the timing is right…”

Steve looked at you and you felt something bigger was being hidden behind his words. Part of you certainly held out hope that there was. 

“We should probably get back inside.”

An hour later, most people had gone home so it was left with just Steve, yourself, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, Maria, Tony, Rhodey and Thor. 

Still wearing Steve’s jacket, you were sitting in the middle of the sofa, your legs curled towards your chest. After he stood up, Steve came back and handed you a beer before he nudged your legs allowing him room to sit down before he pulled them across his lap. 

It was the standard procedure for you and him to sit on a sofa together. Mainly because his sofa in his old apartment had been small enough to do so. 

Despite changing apartments and the sofa, it was just something that stuck. 

The others took silent note of it as the debate continued between Thor and Clint over his hammer. 

By the time everyone was trying to lift it, Steve became one of the last. Sharing a look with you before looking at Thor, Steve stood up and tried to lift it. 

You watched as it squeaked on the table for a moment, but moved no further. However, your knowing grin – despite it never truly lifting from the table – caused you to look at Thor. 

He looked panic stricken. 

But Steve stood back and held his hands up. 

“Or…you’re all not worthy.”

“It’s still a trick!”

In the moments that followed, everyone turned to their own conversations; including you and Steve. 

But Clint and Natasha kept their eyes on you and Steve. Your legs over his lap, wearing his jacket, his focus solely on you, his hand rubbing lightly against the bottom of your leg that was exposed under your wide-legged trousers, your ever loving gaze on his that matched yours, light and soft smiles on your faces. 

“Ten bucks says they’ll be married in two years.” Clint whispered up to Natasha. 

“Deal.”

Something that Clint didn’t know, that Natasha did, was that you and Steve were fucking oblivious. 

They’d all be lucky if it happened in two years. 

Quite frankly, it should have happened two years ago. 

Suddenly, a high pitched noise rippled through the room. 

“Of course you’re not all worthy…”

Your eyes landed on an oil leaking…zombie robot?

His voice was deep and menacing and nothing about any of it felt comforting. 

“Steve?”

“Stark?”

“Jarvis?”

In a single turn of events you’d gone from laughing and joking with each other to suddenly defending yourself against a robot who claimed he’d killed someone. 

A swarm of them flew in through broken glass panels and Steve kicked up a table before any of them could hit either of you. 

You landed on the floor beside him, a little winded. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “I’m okay. Go, go, go. I’ll be fine.”

Steve helped you up before running off in the other direction. It was a whirlwind of blasts, bullets and shattered glass. 

At one point, one had you cornered as Tony unhooked another. And for a moment, you thought you’d be sent flying out of the window and out into the open before Steve took hold of it, throwing it back towards Thor before Clint threw him his shield. 

And it all ended as Thor sent his hammer flying through Ultron. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“Banner.” Tony called him over before they headed towards their lab. 

Meanwhile, Steve turned around before heading straight towards you and holding you in his arms, almost lifting you from the ground. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, letting the scent of him, his clothes, his jacket, calm you. 

“Yeah. Thanks for saving my life.”

Steve truly breathed for the first time since the high pitched noise had rang through the room. With a hand at the back of your head, he pressed a kiss to your temple and he closed his eyes. 

“Come on, let's go and find the others.”

However, as he took your hand, you pulled him back. “Steve.”

“Right, you-you’ll want to go home-”

You shook your head. “It’s not that. You’ve got glass in your arm.”

“Oh.”

“Does Tony have tweezers in his lab?”

Steve nodded. “I think so.”

Less than five minutes later, you sat Steve in one of the chairs, Bruce handing you and Maria a set of tweezers each. 

Staring with his arm, you plucked out the small fragments of glass before his skin healed over them, before holding his palm up to face you. Meanwhile, they began discussing the extinction of The Avengers and the possibility of nuclear codes getting out to the rest of the world.

Then rage got passed around the room. 

By the time morning rolled around, Steve drove you back home.

“Whatever happens…” You looked at Steve, a small voice in the back of your head begging for him to be imprinted in your memory as if he hadn’t already. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

Steve nodded. “I promise. You’re the only one that can kill me, remember?”

You felt yourself laugh. At least he remembered. 

Looking at him again, you hugged him. “I mean it, Steve. Please be safe.”

He hugged you back, the feeling of him strong enough for you to still feel hours later. 

“I promise.”

Each day you didn’t hear from him was a little more worrisome than the last. And then when the media reported Shield helping evacuate people from a floating country…all you could do was hope Steve wasn’t one of the casualties. 

“Maybe I’ll take a leaf out of Barton’s book.”

“The simple life?”

“You’ll get there one day. Maybe you could get there with Y/n?”

Steve couldn’t deny he hadn’t thought about it once or twice. You and him. Together. More than friends. A part of him did think you felt it too. The same spark. Familiarity. The same love. 

“If something was gonna happen, it would have happened by now.” Steve told him. “Besides, I think the guy that wanted all that went into the ice seventy five years ago.”

Tony shrugged. “Don’t count on it. That guy is still there somewhere. See you ‘round, Rogers.”

As Tony drove away, Steve took in the building in front of him. And despite the acceptance he felt of being home, the idea of you and him…he figured that would always be with him. 

Even if it never happened. 

That night, Steve turned up outside your apartment with the next movie on his list and a case of soda. However, when you didn’t answer, he went in search of you. 

Opening the door to the roof, he looked around before spotting you in the very corner, sitting on the table of the picnic bench. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Looking around, you gave a sigh of relief at seeing him. He dropped the case on the table before you reached for him. 

“Thank god you’re okay.”

“How long have you been up here?”

“Since Nat called me and told me you’d landed. I couldn’t sit in my apartment anymore so…I came up here. Last time I looked out at the city was before everything went to hell.”

Steve looked out at the city himself before looking back at you. “We’re not out of the woods yet. Ross is probably about to reign hellfire down on…everyone.”

“What about the girl?”

“Wanda?”

You nodded. 

“I don’t know. She went through a lot, losing her home and her brother in one fowl sweep.” 

“You should train her.”

“What?”

“Train her,” you repeated. “You’re the only one who knows what it’s like to be in a war, to sign up to be experimented on. She’s gonna need someone who actually understands some of what she’s going through.”

Steve agreed with you. You had a point. 

“Tony can have a lot of influence and his heart can be in the right place but he doesn’t always remember that people didn’t have his childhood or his life.”

“He’s been through a lot.”

You agreed with Steve. “He has. But he’s never lost a brother, or his life to somebody’s cause. She’s gonna need help.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The rest of the evening was spent talking over what had happened, what Steve had thought when the earth quite literally started to lift from beneath him, what had happened with Banner and Nat and then you gave him your news. 

Bucky had been spotted. 

The next time you saw Steve was at Agent Peggy Carter’s funeral. You sat at the back for most of it, watching as Steve helped carry the coffin and as people gave their eulogies. 

You didn't know much about Peggy Carter personally, though you could remember learning about her in school. The founder of Shield, working alongside Captain America in her early career. And from meeting Steve, you’d come to know more about her. As well as how deeply both she and Steve were in love. 

You’d seen the clips at the museum, and with Steve beside you, it gave them a whole other meaning. And even though Steve living through the ice and landing himself in the 21st century had given you one of the greatest friendships you’d ever had, part of you felt angry for him. 

Angry at the fact he missed out on his chance with Peggy and that she had to live a life where, as far as anyone knew, Steve was dead. 

A soldier and a love story left stranded in time. 

You could remember when Steve had first visited Peggy, again. 

And now he had to say goodbye, again. 

“It was a beautiful service.”

Steve looked up and down the aisle to where you were walking towards him. He felt the breath get knocked out of him. Or maybe back into him. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Thought you could use a friendly face?”

 A silent conversation then took place between you and Steve. Silent conversations weren’t unusual between you. A thousand words could be said in a look, but you’d both understand.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen after I leave here-”

“No, I know. I know.” You understood completely. After he walked out of the church, Nat would be leaving without him. 

“Today’s been a lot. Tomorrow’s gonna be a lot.” You looked back at Steve. “Right now can just be…right now. You’ve lost someone, Steve. Right now you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You don’t have to be Captain America right now.” Your gaze turned to Peggy’s picture. “I might not have met her, but I know you and I both know she would be telling you, you don’t have to be Captain America right now. At this moment, you’re just Steve: World War Two veteran who has just lost a great love in their life and deserves a moment to breathe.”

Steve gave you a weak smile, his emotions building up in his chest. “Thank you.”

Stepping forward, you wrapped Steve in a comforting hug and for the next twenty minutes, you both stayed inside the church. 

There he told you the smaller facts about Peggy – the ones he’d learnt when she was with him and his Howling Commandos. 

But then the time came to leave. 

Walking down the different streets, hearing time tick away, you and Steve soaked up what time you could before everything was about to go to shit. 

And on a bench beside the River Thames, you and Steve said your goodbyes. Both of you knew something was going to go wrong. What that was exactly, neither of you could put your finger on it. But something was going to happen. 

It was only a matter of time. 

“Here.” 

“What’s this?”

Steve read the piece of paper. It was a set of coordinates. 

“I own a house. It’s in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in Europe. If anything happens, Ross can’t touch you. The house had been in my family’s name for generations but one of my great aunt’s left it to me. It’s yours to use.”

“Y/n-”

“Take it, Steve. Nobody knows it exists so they won’t find you. It’s run down but there should be running water.”

Steve finally accepted it. “Thank you. You know, if Tony ever finds out about this, he’s gonna believe that you are a witch from a vampire family.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I am, you just don’t know it.”

Steve shrugged, pocketing the paper safely. 

“I’m gonna miss you.”

You took his hand. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

You tried your best to avoid the tears, but they were trying their hardest anyway. 

“Just promise me one thing, Steve.”

Steve nodded, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Be safe?”

You nodded. “Be safe.”

Your eyes locking with his, Steve decided to take a risk. There was a chance he might never be able to see you again. Whatever was going to happen, the first person they’d put a tail on would be you. 

He kissed you. 

With your hand on his lapel, you held him closer. It was short and bittersweet, but the memory of him and his kiss would forever be seared into your brain. 

And for a few moments, you just held onto each other, fearful of opening your eyes and accepting that one of you would have to walk away. 

With his finger, Steve gently brushed the stray hair from your face away and behind your ear before kissing you quickly for a second time. 

“One of us has to say goodbye.”

“I know,” you sniffed. “I know.”

“If there’s one thing I’m grateful for, it's that you walked into that room when you did. You were the first person to treat me like one and to help me. Thank you for wanting to escape that party.”

You laughed through the tears. “You never have to thank me for that. It’s crazy to think I almost didn’t go.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“So am I.”

Looking at each other for one final time, you leaned in and kissed him. You prayed that his hand by your waist would leave a brand – a different pain to carry with you than the one in your heart. 

Feeling yourself stand, the kiss broke away and you were the first to say goodbye. 

Walking down the stone pavement, you looked behind you before you turned a corner, only to find Steve had already gone. Between the bustling people, the bench you’d both just been sitting at was exactly that. 

A bench. 

Going home, you tried to find a way to keep yourself busy but no matter where you looked, everything reminded you of him. The movies you’d watched with him, the ones you didn’t. The pizza’s shared, and soda spilt, the curtain, bedsheets, books, clothes, pictures. 

You had some of his artwork in your house. Some of them people, most of landscapes – people and places you’d seen together. 

And in an album under your bed, you had his letters. 

Each one in its original envelope on one page and the pictures he’d drawn of the skyline from wherever he’d been. 

Some evenings, you’d reread his letters – still able to hear his voice. 

Then the headlines started to roll in. 

Captain America was a fugitive and had broken his team out of a high secure facility. 

And for almost two years a hunt was put on for him. You were interviewed every couple of months with the same questions. 

Did you know where he was? Had he contacted you? What information did he share with you?

Just because you’d given him a set of coordinates didn’t mean he’d use them. The last time you’d heard from Steve was in London and the only information he’d shared with you that day was about Peggy Carter and some of the old stories of when he was first in London in the 40s. 

In the meantime, your parents had convinced you to attend different dinner parties, charity shows, fundraisers and galas, all the while helping you find a date. 

Most of the people your mother had first introduced you to years ago, they were recently married. But the single ones she’d found; you dated some, though it never went any further than a sixth date – usually the date after your parents invited them to attend dinner. 

But no matter the fancy meal, or the conversation, or the man; none of them could beat a pizza, soda, a movie and…

Steve. 

None of them could beat Steve. 

But that all changed one afternoon when you were gardening. 

Living in the city had reminded you too much of Steve, and with the constant reminders of the memories and new threats and superheroes popping up, you decided to find somewhere nice to live. 

Someplace…simple. 

So, buying a house outside of the city with a few acres of land, you started renovating. Any business meetings you had could be done online which meant you had more time to fix your new home up. 

The smell of plaster, paint and sawdust filled your home for most of the days until finally things started to come together. New windows and locks were installed, the faulty taps were fixed and finally the entire place was given a new lease of life. 

And just as you were half way through with fixing your garden; planting some flowers and digging patches for a small allotment, a car pulled up outside your drive. 

On your knees in the dirt, it took a moment for your eyes to focus on the person climbing out of the car in the distance. 

They were tall, broad and had a beard. 

However, the closer they got, memories started to kick in. The walk, the frame…

You stood up and walked closer until you stopped again, feeling the breath being knocked out of you. 

“Oh, my god…”

He watched as you stopped in your tracks, your brain confirming who he was. Then you started running. Across the grass and onto the gravel path, you collided with Steve. 

“This is you, I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Steve shook his head and he held onto you, the essence of you filling his senses. 

“No, you’re not dreaming.”

You leaned back and looked at him before hugging him again. 

Finally, Steve set you back onto your feet and his hands remained at your waist. 

“Why are you back? Last I heard…”

“The team and I are keeping our distance for a few days. Nat’s headed to Ohio and Sam is trying to see his sister. It’s the best way to avoid Ross.”

You nodded, checking him over. He didn’t seem like he was dying. 

With a hand on his cheek, you smiled a little, pointing out the obvious. “You grew a beard.”

Steve smiled a little. “Helps me blend in.”

You looked into his eyes and smiled. “It suits you.”

Holding gently onto your wrist, Steve turned his head and kissed your palm and for a second you closed your eyes, leaning into him. 

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Placing your hand over his heart, Steve seemed to bear into your soul. “So am I.”

What followed was two hours of conversation around where he’d been and what he’d been doing since he left, and what you had been doing. 

Then he started to help. Painting the porch on the back of the house as you continued planting in the back garden, you spent time together. 

Time that was all too precious knowing he was on a clock. 

“Where did you learn to cook?” You asked Steve as you helped him chop up veg. 

With a smile on his face, Steve continued to prepare dinner. “I have a contact in Scotland. Their aunt runs a cafe and needed a few extra hands in the kitchen.”

As you helped Steve prepare dinner, you listened to the stories he’d gathered over his time away. Scotland, Spain, Germany, Italy, England, Poland, Norway, and many others. 

Once dinner was finished, you started to clean up. But from the table, Steve looked at you standing by the sink in front of the window. 

You’d never left his thoughts. 

Sat on that bench in London, he watched you walk away and for a moment, he remained where he was. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to see you again – not without heavy restrictions. 

He wanted you so desperately to turn around, but if you did, he would have followed you. He would have stood up and ran after you. 

So he left. 

He left before you could look around, he left before he would stop fighting himself and follow you. 

And each day he woke up, for the few moments in the morning where he would forget what had happened, where he would forget the world he’d been found in, he thought about you. He thought about calling you or writing you a letter. He thought about seeing you when he’d roll over in bed. But each time…

You weren’t there. 

You weren’t with him. 

You were at your home, thousands of miles from him. 

And he had no way of talking to you. 

Walking across the kitchen floor to you, he placed a hand on your waist before reaching across to the window cill. 

“What are you doing?” You smiled. 

Looking at you and turning up the dial, Steve smiled. “Come with me.”

Taking the cloth from your hand, Steve dropped it back into the bowl of soapy water and took your hand in his. Then, pulling you into the middle of the kitchen with him, you both started to slow dance. 

“What’s this for?”

Steve shrugged, holding your hand over his heart once again. “I don’t know how long I’ve got with you. Figured we could spend it not washing up.”

You felt yourself smile. “I think I like that.”

It was soft and slow. Swaying with the beat until the radio turned static, you and Steve remained in each other's arms. 

“Can you stay the night?”

Steve nodded. 

“Good.”

The night soon settled over your home, the stars slowly emerging from behind the clouds. With your porch taking on a blue hue in its own shadow, you and Steve sat side by side on your porch swing. 

Your hair still a little damp from your shower, Steve continued to run his fingers through it. And with your head on his chest, you let his heart beat calm you. For a moment, Steve turned his nose into your hair and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

After a few moments, he didn’t say anything. Not that you would have heard anything considering your body was begging for sleep. 

Carefully standing, Steve slipped one of his arms around your back and one under your legs before carrying you inside. He tucked you under your bed covers before making his rounds, locking up the doors and windows. Finally, he got in beside you. 

For years, he’d dreamed of it. 

Being with you, by your side, a domestic and loving day before laying beside you knowing he would be waking up beside you every morning. 

And Steve smiled as in your sleep you moved closer to him, your arms wrapping across his middle. 

You couldn’t remember when you’d gone from the porch to your bed, but you could remember Steve. Feeling his arms around you, his heartbeat under your cheek, his lips on yours…

“Hey,”

Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed by your legs, fully dressed. 

“Hey, what time is it?”

Steve kept his eyes on you. “A little after four.”

You gave a groan and closed your eyes again. Steve chuckled. Reaching out, he gently swept the hair from your eyes, your head turning towards him. With his hand on your cheek, he felt your smile. 

It was your turn to hold onto him and kiss his palm. 

And just as the knowing sadness started to grow, Steve still smiled, leaning forward and kissed you. 

You would never get bored of his kiss.

Peppering it out, you held onto his face before your hands slipped around his back and you held him closer. 

With a sigh, Steve held you closer to him, trying to imprint the feeling of you in his arms. 

Trying your best to ignore the growing tears, you spoke. 

“Just promise me you’ll be safe?”

Steve chuckled a little. “You know you’re the only one who's allowed to kill me. But I promise.”

“Good.”

Holding on a little tighter, you silently begged for more time with him. But the clock was ticking. 

From above, there was deep rumbling. 

“You better go,” you told Steve. 

It took him a moment before he let go and with one final kiss, it was his turn to say goodbye. 

Hearing his boots walk across the floor of your bedroom, down the hallway, through the living room and towards your front door. 

You heard his pause for a moment and in that moment, you wondered what he would do if you called out for him. 

But he couldn’t stay any longer. 

People needed him. 

The world needed him. 

Hearing your front door click open, Steve’s footsteps trailed off as it closed once more until eventually the only sound that was left was the ever quieting sound of a rumbling jet engine.

Six months later, half of the world disappeared. 

With a snap of Thanos’ fingers, Steve watched as half of his team, his family, disappeared. And upon returning back to the Avengers’ compound, you were his first call. 

Only, you never answered. 

“Go.” Natasha told him. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

Making a break for it, Steve ran down into the garage before hopping on his bike. He’d made it to yours in half the time. 

Pulling up, he started calling out for you. His voice filled with desperation and fear, he ran up to your front door. 

It was unlocked. 

He almost tripped inside as he tried the door, the hinges getting stuck. 

“Y/N!”

He raced around your home; checking the kitchen, living room, pantry, washing room, office, bathroom, and the bedrooms before finally reaching yours. 

The bedding was strewn a little, the soft lines of the fitted sheet folded into where you would have been laying. The pain in Steve’s chest seemed to grow heavier by the minute. 

You weren’t here. 

One hand on his hip, another covering his mouth, Steve turned around in a slow circle. Tears pricking at his eyes, his mind had gone from running a thousand miles a minute to…being completely overrun by pain. 

He had nearly a thousand chances to be with you, to share a life with you that he’d always dreamed of – all before everything went to hell. 

But it was too late. 

You were gone. 

Just like half of the world, you were gone. 

Gripping onto the cold metal of your bed frame, Steve tried to steady himself. 

You were gone. 

Somewhere behind him, he heard a click. 

His entire body stilled. 

Slowly turning around he found…

No one. 

Somewhere down the hall, a door closed. 

As quietly as he could, Steve walked from your bedroom and down the hallway. The noises started to compile together. 

Shoes shuffling, a bag being thrown onto a counter, a bucket handle rattling against itself. 

From a corner, Steve saw an apron thrown across the back of a kitchen chair. A tap started to pour before someone switched it off. 

Then someone started to hum. 

You started to hum. 

Fully stepping into the kitchen doorway, Steve felt the entire life get knocked back into him. 

Then you turned around. 

He scared the shit out of you. 

The bucket slipping out of your hand, it knocked against your sink, the water spilling down the drain. 

Just as it did, you recognised him. 

Rushing forward, Steve enveloped you into his arms, your feet lifting from the ground. 

“You’re alive,” you breathed. 

“I thought you were gone.” Steve mumbled into your shoulder, holding onto you tighter. 

“Steve, what’s going on?”

“He won.” 

Steve set you back down on your feet and for the first time in almost seven months, you finally got a good look at him. He looked tired, worn. Beaten. 

“We almost did it, but he won.”

“Whose left?”

Steve tried his best to name those who were left. 

“We think Tony’s gone but we can’t be sure.”

The tears were falling from Steve’s cheeks as he told you. Wiping them away, you pulled him back into a hug. 

“I tried calling you but when you didn’t answer…” You could feel Steve’s entire body shaking under you. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer. Steve, honey, you need to sit down. Let me get you some water.”

As you sat him down, Steve watched as you moved around your kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, running the tap until it was cold before handing it to him. 

“I’ll make you some food. When did you last eat? You should call Nat.”

“Right.”

After calling and updating Nat, Steve hung up the phone. And for the next few hours, Steve talked you through everything he could; right up to him running through your door. 

In the months that followed, a transition started to take place. People had to get used to a world where half of the people they loved were gone. 

And somewhere between Steve finding you in your kitchen and Tony and Pepper having their daughter, yourself and Steve finally came together. 

Properly. 

This time there were no goodbye kisses and fear of never seeing each other again. That biggest fear had been and gone. 

What you were left with was…acceptance. 

Acceptance that you had both almost completely lost each other for good. There was no point in avoiding feelings, or being scared of what might happen. 

You both had a chance at a life together. 

So you both took it. 

From then on your home with Steve became interchangeable between the Avengers compound and your house. Saving her from the lifetime supply of peanut butter sandwiches, you dragged Natasha when you could to your home with Steve and made her a decent meal. 

Being out in the open also gave her a breath of fresh air away from the training facility walls that never changed colour. 

And eventually things…settled. 

People found a new way of life, coming back each year to celebrate those who were lost. And then new life was brought into the mix. 

Not too long after Pepper had given birth to Morgan, you were faced with a positive pregnancy test result yourself. 

And Natasha was your first call. 

“What’s going on? I have an extra gun in the car if we need it.”

You showed it to her. “What does that show?”

“Holy shit, you’re pregnant.”

A small whimper left your lips as you handed her the test stick and started pacing around your bathroom. 

“Are…are we not happy about that?”

You whimpered again as you paced up and down. “I-I don’t know. We-we haven’t planned anything. I mean, we’ve talked about it a few times but what if something goes wrong? Are you sure it was positive?”

Natasha looked back at it. “Well, it’s got a plus sign so-”

“It’s the third I’ve taken this week. The other two came up invalid but that one was like a bright flashing light.”

Reaching for you by the shoulders, Natasha sat you down. “Okay, first off, breathe.”

You did so. 

And then some more. 

“Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna go and get you another box of tests. Proper ones, not these things. And you’re gonna call Steve.”

“He’ll probably pass out. Why do you think I called you?”

Natasha laughed. “Just call him. I’ll be right back.”

And she was. 

Walking back inside, she called out and Steve called back. 

Three minutes later, you were all huddled in the bathroom waiting for the result to finally show. 

“What if it’s a false positive? If it’s positive-positive, will I be able to carry the baby?”

Crouching down in front of you, Steve held your hand. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Together. Okay?”

You took a breath and nodded. Leaning up, Steve kissed you and you kissed him back. 

You’d been having conversations about starting a family together for a while, but neither of you had started planning it just yet. Mostly because you hadn’t gotten around to it. And you didn’t know if you could even carry Steve’s kid. For all either of you knew, the serum would carry onto your child. 

Natasha looked at her phone. 

“It’s time.”

With a shaky breath, you and Steve stood. However, you paused as you reached for the test. 

“Count me down.”

Steve chuckled softly, counting back from three. 

After one, you turned it over. 

Pregnant 3+ weeks

You felt yourself smile and laugh a little before showing Steve. 

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

Taking the test from your hands, Steve took one look at it before the water-works started. 

Nine months later, inside the Avengers compound, Natasha was walking with you. 

“Once they started arguing over what the manual said, I made a break for it.”

Tony had surprised you and Steve at your home and after an hour, Steve had wrangled him in to help build the crib. It was the final thing that needed to be built and since Steve had banned you from lifting heavy things since you had elected to ignore your midwife and pushed the crib from the living room and into the nursery. You couldn’t help. 

“Have you decided on a name yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“Well, I might be biassed but Natasha is a really good name.”

You laughed a little. “I’ll think about it.”

Natasha smiled, holding onto your hand as she helped you down one of the narrower steps. 

However, halfway around the building, you stopped. 

“Everything okay?”

You nodded. “Just a bit of cramp.”

But it wasn’t just cramp. 

Barely a second later, you felt water trail down your leg until there was a louder splash against the tiles. 

“Oh, shit.”

You looked down. “Oh, my god.”

“Okay, okay. We’re okay.”

You nodded, taking hold of her hand as she walked you down the hall. 

“Steve’s old room is just down the hall. Once we get you there-”

“Call him.”

“I know, I will.”

“No, call him now. Please.”

Twenty minutes later, Tony’s car was kicking gravel up and onto the windshield. Steve ran inside, nearly taking out a few employees on the way. 

Almost fifteen hours later, a healthy baby girl was delivered. 

With her in Steve’s arms, bundled in a fresh baby blanket, everyone stood around the bed. 

“Only took you a decade.”

Steve chuckled, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his daughter. And neither could you. 

And for almost four years, it was blissful. 

As your daughter grew up, Steve told her stories and showed her pictures of the 40s. Even at the age of three, she seemed wise beyond her years. 

Then one night, everything changed. 

Recently, she hadn’t been sleeping. So, lay in bed with you whilst Steve was still at work, you told her a few bedtime stories but when Steve came in an hour or so later, he found her still awake. 

“You should be asleep,” he whispered to her. 

“I tried. Mommy fell asleep, though.”

Steve looked over and smiled. “Come on, let your mom sleep.”

Picking his daughter up, Steve carried her down the hall, leaving his jacket on the bed beside you. Making sure to close the door behind him, Steve started to talk to his daughter. 

Their conversation eventually turned to someone from Steve’s past. 

“Daddy, whose that?”

Steve looked at the photo. It was him and Bucky during his army days, though both were out of uniform and in civilian clothing. There weren't many pictures of Bucky in normal clothes. 

“That’s Uncle Buck.”

“But he’s not in green.”

Steve chuckled. “You’re right, he’s not. That was when we were in London. Pinky, one of the Howling Commandos, decided to take us on a tour of London.”

“Wow.” 

She was awe-struck. 

“Does he know I was born?”

Steve felt a pang in his chest. “Maybe. I don’t know if he can hear me, but I’ve told him.”

“Would he like me?”

Steve smiled. “He’d love you.”

Kissing her temple, Steve sat down in one of the chairs. “Try and get some sleep.”

Steve himself must have fallen asleep because next thing he knew, you were waking him up. Your daughter was still fast asleep, he carried her to bed before you led him down the hall and he collapsed onto your shared bed. 

The next time he woke up that morning, everything you both knew was about to change. 

Time Travel. 

There was a chance everyone could be brought back. 

And after a long conversation, one that was overheard by your daughter who had been playing in the back garden with the family dog, Steve accepted what he had to do. 

“You and Aunty Nat will have pictures again.”

Handing Steve a slightly mud scattered, crinkled, crayon drawing; your daughter had drawn a picture with everyone on it. 

Herself, you, the dog, Steve, Nat, Bucky, Sam with his wings, Clint with his bow and arrow, Thor and his hammer, Tony, Bruce…the stick men with different items, standing on a green field with a corner sun, continued on and on. 

It was that night you kissed Steve and he said what could have been his final goodbye to your daughter. She held onto him tightly, telling him she loved him. The only thing that carried him on his feet was the thought of going through what Scott was. 

In the time he got stuck, he thought his daughter was gone. 

Steve would have done anything to get his daughter back. 

And it didn’t take much for him to remember the pain that washed through and over him when he thought he lost you. 

Scott, like many others, had lost someone they loved. So had Steve. But he hadn’t lost you, though he thought he did. 

People needed their families back. 

And that’s what they got. 

At the cost of Tony’s life. 

After everything had settled, you drove as fast as you could to find Steve. And you found him far outside of the Avengers compound, crouched on the floor. 

“Steve!? Steve!”

Looking up, he spotted you amongst the grey smoke. A shining light in the darkness. 

Running as fast as you could, you eventually reached him. 

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to know if you were okay. Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice was quiet. “He’s gone.”

“Gone? Who’s gone?”

Steve’s voice broke. “T-tony. Tony’s gone.”

“Oh, my god.”

As Steve hugged you, you held him as tightly as you could. He asked about your daughter. 

“She’s with my dad back home. She’s safe. She just needs a cuddle from her dad.”

Steve nodded. “I think I need one from her, too.”

Two weeks later, Steve brought Bucky and Sam home. 

“Honey, come here.” Your daughter ran to her dad’s side. “Sam, Buck. I’d like you to meet Aurora. Rory, honey, this is Sam and Bucky.”

Sam knelt down and shook her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, miss.”

Meanwhile, Bucky was in pure shock. Slowly, he knelt beside Sam and Bucky felt his life flash before his eyes. 

“Steve…she looks like your mom.”

As Rory studied Bucky, she decided to hug him. Sam smiled and so did you and Steve. And eventually Bucky hugged her back, frightened he might break her. 

“Can I show them my room?”

The consensus was yes and whilst Sam was dragged towards her bedroom, Rory shouting for you to follow, Bucky and Steve followed behind. 

Inside her room, her walls were covered in different pictures she’d drawn of the different stories Steve had told her. Of course, most of them were stick men, but the message was still clear. 

A week later, a funeral was held for Tony and the Stones had to be returned. 

Standing beside Bucky as Steve stood on the platform, Aurora stood and waited in between both of you. 

And in what was a few seconds later, Steve returned with Natasha by his side. 

Aurora gasped and bolted forward. 

“Aunty Nat!”

“Careful, kiddo.” Steve warned just before Aurora collided with her, but Natasha shook her head. 

“It’s okay.” 

Lifting her into her arms, she hugged her tightly.  

“You’re back.”

Natasha smiled. “Thanks to your dad.”

Looking at her dad, she smiled before hugging Natasha again. 

“I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Natasha nodded and carried Rory back towards you before everyone started running over. Meanwhile, you watched as Steve walked over to Sam. 

Ten minutes later, your daughter bolted from the crowd and towards her dad who was finally out of his protection suit. 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

Seeing you again, Steve kissed you before kissing Rory’s cheek. 

“Everything okay?”

Steve watched as Fury made his way over to Sam, and he smiled. 

“Everything’s good.”

Kissing you again, Steve smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For walking into that room when you did.” Steve told you. “I’m just sorry it took me so long to do something about it.”

You shook your head, looking from him to your daughter and back to him. “It happened when it was meant to.”

Steve smiled before he kissed you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tony was right; Steve found the life with you he’d always wanted, even if it did take him a decade to do something about it. 

[lesbianherald]

random not super consequential thought (apologies if you’ve addressed this already): was your mental image of viktor in coming home commune era long hair or academy era short hair? or some variation thereof? what about the fantasy au?

since i wrote coming home before season 2 came out, season 1 for sure! i kind of imagined them mirroring their act 1 looks, but older, jayce maybe with some stubble.

I went this way (in my head) because I imagined this world (for all of its flaws) as a kinder one where neither would age as quickly. this is a choice i kind of regret now? again at the time i was like dont think just write this stupid lil thing and your brain will stop feeling like a prison DKFSJHD.

you were probably expecting two sentences but since we are on the topic, descriptors are kind of high key my biggest regret with coming home. at the time they didn't have many looks. but also I was so so so used to/deep into writing screenplays that i forgot my prose background/just hadn't worked that muscle in a long time. this is also why I personally HATE the first two chapters - because in my own re-reads I can really tell I'm trying to re-work the prose muscle back to life let me tell you it is not like riding a bike.

when you write a screenplay, you usually leave out a lot of what other departments would cover unless its super relevant - costumes, props, hair, etc - and it was only when i was like wayy too late in the game that I was like fuck bro. I screenplayed them DSKLFJHSD. again - it started as a project for me - i had no ideaaaaa you know. now i definetly wish i put more care into describing them.

but that also has created for a really fun side effect of different interpretations of them in the art.

this is something i'm really excited to NOT do in my upcoming fic. in fact, i'm working with an incredibly kind artist in the fandom on really bringing their looks to life. which is so fun. and i'm so excited for ppl to see it.

Viktor is in his long hair baylage era but he's.... not purple LOL. He's using his crutch. Has a sick cloak. Won't give too much else away.

Jayce has his beard/longer hair. Starts out out of his brace but gets an injury where he subsequently wears it. Very similar to episode 8/9 jayce. He will have one feature that is very unique to this fic that he inherits at the end of chapter 1 that is very... well you guys will see its ... i have a flair for drama and romance what can i say.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Sneak Peek

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

A/N : Here's the first little sneak peek at my next Billy fic. I'm going with something slightly different for the reader character this time, so I hope you like what I've got planned. The first chapter will be posted on the 31st of January, and I'll be updating weekly. If you've already asked to be tagged, I'll tag you in the first chapter!

Sneak Peek

“Good morning, Mr Russo,” you said, heading towards his desk. “I’ve got your morning coffee and a couple of bear claws, and Mr Castle is waiting outside for your morning meeting.”

“Thank you,” he said, lingering at the window a moment longer before finally turning towards you. “Can you send Frank in and grab the files I asked you to prepare yesterday?”

“Of course, sir.”

You did as you were asked, sending Mr Castle in while you got the files from your desk. By the time you made it back into Mr Russo’s office, both men were perched on his desk, drinking their coffees and eating bear claws.

“However much he’s payin’ you, it’s not enough,” Mr Castle grinned at you, and that had the forced smile on your lips becoming something far more genuine.

It wasn’t so much that Mr Russo didn’t appreciate what you did for him - you knew that he did - it was more that he wasn’t particularly vocal about it. But you’d heard the horror stories of the PAs who’d come before you, the ones who’d quit mere weeks into working for him. At first you’d feared that it was him, that he was impossible to work for, but you’d quickly figured out that he wasn’t impossible, just... difficult. 

There was a lot of reading between the lines when it came to Billy Russo, and a lot of your time was spent trying to anticipate what he might want or need at any given time; when he was in a bad mood you’d found that food often helped, and frustration was usually mitigated by redirecting him towards smaller, easier to deal with tasks to distract him.

It wasn’t easy but you’d figured him out and, now, things ran pretty smoothly.

“Here you go,” you said, placing the files on his desk beside him. “I took the liberty of colour coding them; the green tabs are the ones most likely to want to engage Anvil’s services based on the research, orange means they could be convinced, and -”

“And what about red?” Mr Russo asked, pulling a file from the bottom of the stack.

The only file with a red tab.

“Red means it’s extremely unlikely that they would choose to offer Anvil a contract and that they’re probably not worth the money and resources that it might take to change their mind,” you explained, trying to sound as clinical as possible.

“And why do you think the Van Der Koy family wouldn’t be interested in contracting with Anvil?” He asked.

Immediately your cheeks started to heat as you tried to find the easiest (read: safest) way to explain it.

The Van Der Koy’s were old money, with dozens of high end resorts, hotels and casinos across North America. They were a literal goldmine for anyone who got to work with them. Landing a security contract with them would be worth millions of dollars, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that that was the file that Mr Russo wanted to concentrate on.

But how were you supposed to tell him that he was the reason the Van Der Koy’s would never work with Anvil?

“Well, the Van Der Koy’s have very old fashioned family values - it’s not about the money, it’s all about appearances and reputation...” you said.

“And what’s wrong with Anvil’s reputation?” Mr Russo prompted.

“It’s not Anvil...” you tried to explain, your voice turning quiet.

“Then what?” He asked, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone.

“Jesus, Bill,” Frank said through a mouthful of pastry. “She’s tryin’ to be polite.”

There was a silence for a few moments before Mr Russo finally seemed to realise what was being said.

“You’re saying that they won’t contract with Anvil because of my reputation?” He asked, and you gave the smallest of nods. “What’s wrong with my reputation?”

“Sir, I really don’t think -”

“You can’t expect her to answer that,” Frank said, speaking at the same time as you.

He looked from you to Mr Castle and back again, as if he really had no clue what you could possibly mean.

“I won’t get angry or blame you,” Mr Russo said. “I just want to know what you know.”

You didn’t want to answer, but you knew that you had to.

“Well, from what I was able to learn, it’s... it’s everything,” you said, unable to even look him in the eye as you explained. “The parties, the women - it sends a certain, uh... message...”

It felt like his gaze was burning into you as you fixed your eyes on his desk and the stack of files.

“What message?” He asked.

“She’s sayin’ the uptight, old money folks don’t like that you’re a fuck-boy who spends all his time with bimbos, Bill,” Mr Castle answered for you. “Now, could you stop makin’ her feel uncomfortable about it and let her do her damned job?”