#pretty sure you still have to pay for cap & gown

[sonicrainicorn]

Applying for graduation is just me clicking a button going "I'm ready to graduate" and then someone checks my classes

But the fee is definitely a ransom lol. Commencement (the graduation ceremony) is something separate

it's bullshit I have to pay to graduate. literally pay to win

[asha-mage]

cadsuane, prompt: empathy

[Send me a character or pairing, and a one word prompt, and I'll write you a drabble!]

Cadsuane’s small sitting room seemed to glow gold and red in the faint light of the dying sun. Clad in simple green gown suitable for an evening alone, she watched the sunset while working the handle of her oak hairbrush, the one carved with the trefoil leaves. It had been a gift from the King of Tarabon during one of her misadventures about a century ago. Her hair hung down her back today, out of it’s usual bun, still slightly shinny and damp from the water of her bath. It was glossy black now more then slightly streaked with grey. It would probably turn full white before to many more decades.

Cadsuane’s rose beds where visible to her through the sitting room window, long boxes filled with a shower of different colors, from red to white to gold to blue. For a while she had entertained the idea of cultivating a row of roses for each color of the Ajahs- but without the aid of the Power she could not find a way to cultivate brown and grey roses, and she knew herself enough to know that is she used the Power for one thing with the roses, she would end up leaning on it to much. She would would be coaxing them  to grow without thorns next, then to bloom just a little longer then the season would allow- and before she knew it the simple pleasure of the act of gardening would be all drained away.

“Good evening.” A voice called from the door to her sitting room, interrupting her thoughts, and Cadsuane looked up and found herself smiling. Emarin was there in the doorway, his head of dark brown curls seaming to glow as gold as everything else. They where tied back from his face in a simple cord, and his shirtsleeves of where rolled to the elbows. He had washed up thourughly before coming up to her of course- she had impressed the importance of keeping neat in him sharply- but some flour still clung to his forearms all the same, and to the white cloth bundle he held gently in the crook of his elbow.

You would never know, looking at him, that he was a Tearian High Lord. Or rather had been one. By the laws of Tear he had lost all claim to that title the moment he had first touched the Source.

“Good evening.” Cadsuane replied in kind as she rose, setting down her hair brush. “Another day’s labor?” She asked as she moved to the small tea table before the window. Emarin joined her, laying out the oblong bundle and setting down a small jar filled with jelly beside it.

Emarin nodded as he sat. “I barley burned this one.” He said dryly. “I’m improving. Algarin won’t be able to believe it.” Gently he unrolled the white cloth revealing a golden brown loaf of bred, the end caps just slightly turned an ugly black.

“Barely? Phwah.” She shook her head. “Well, you’ll have all tomorrow to take another stab boy. Still, let’s see how it is otherwise.”

They broke the crust together and smeared it with generous amounts of jelly. It wasn’t bad- a bit hard on the outside and doughy in the center, but good for all that. Nothing Cadsuane would pay coin for of course, but that wasn’t the point.

They ate in quite silence, and when the light began to fade Cadsuane rose to begin lighting the candles with the aid of a spark wheel.

“You don’t have to do that.” Emarin said as he cleared away the last of the crumbs. “I wont open my veins if you channel to light a few candles.”

Cadsuane sniffed. “You have an inflated sense of self boy.” She said coldly. “Have you considered that maybe I enjoy doing things by hand?” She shook her head.

“Do you?” He asked dryly. “Because I’m pretty sure I saw you clear away that fox with a few well placed sparks of-“

Reaching out to the True Source, Cadsuane embraced saidar long enough to weave a thin flow of Air, and snap it like a string, flicking the boy in the ear. He smirked at her and stuck his tongue out in her direction, for all the world like a child of eight.

“It is important.” She said smoothly, pointedly lighting a stick on the spark wheel and pressing it one of the candle wicks. “To do things with your own hands. Even for those of us that still have the Power. Maybe especially for us. If we make life too easy: if we depend on the Power to much, we run the risk of letting ourselves believe we are more then human.” She released the Source as she talked and moved to light the next candle on the mantle piece, her hand steady. It had been for centuries now- ever since her time spent on Norla’s farm.

“Is that why you set me a new hobby every few weeks?” Emarin asked, his voice still holding faint mirth, but also a thoughtfulness, and something else: an edge she knew he wold not be able to put a name too. “Why I spend sun up to sun down, gardening and baking, sewing and wood carving, and whatever else you can imagine? To remind me I am human?”

Cadsuane simply nodded. Their was no sense in denying it. “People think you need to find something to fill out the emptiness that the Power has left behind. It varies what: A husband usually, or charity work, or some passion like drawing or music. Phwah.” She shook her head and lit another candle. “They are wrong. Nothing will ever fill that void. That cut can not be mended, and nothing will ever patch the hole it’s left behind. Not really. Like a man whose lost a limb, someone Stilled or Gentled, needs to be reminded that their wound has not made them less human. They needed to be grounded in this world, to feel it’s beauty as well as it’s pain, to accept what is, and learn to live with it.”

Emarin looked down at the jar and sighed, fingers playing with the lid. “You sound as if you speak from experience.”

Cadsuane considered him…and then nodded. “I do.” She said simply and he raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, his questions remaining unasked. For a moment she considered leaving it at that, but it felt cruel. The kind of fertile ground to give rise to false hopes. Best to be out with it.

“I meet a toothless Wilder when I was a freshly raised Green, long ago now.” Cadsuane explained. “Drunk on my own pride and arrogance, I thought I could bully her.” She laughed. Cadsuane doubted anyone had ever succeeded in bullying Norla. “She shielded me and tied the knot so tight I could not hope to untangle it. Then she gave me a through thrashing for my sins and set me to work gardening. To teach me humility and humanity she called it. Well, she succeeded.” Cadsuane smiled. “In teaching me that, and a great deal more.”

Emarin nodded and sighed tightening the lid shut on the jar. “And that thought you what it’s like for men who can-“ He cut off and swallowed. “For men who have been gentled?”

Cadsuane shook her head. “No. Nothing but the experience of stilling could teach me that boy.” She told him, not without kindness. “But it taught me to look beyond myself, my shawl, my might….” She shrugged. “To be understanding, where others would close themselves off. To care, where others would be cruel.”

Emarin stood nodding and tossed the cloth over his shoulder. “To have empathy.” He said. “That’s why you care for the men you find, isn’t it? When all others want to be blind.”

She nodded. Empathy. She supposed that was it after all. “It’s easy, for the Reds, for the whole Tower, to close themselves off, to not let themselves see or care for the pain of the men we Gentle. It must be done, and so it’s easier for everyone to be blind to the cruelty of it. But it’s a mistake.” She shrugged. “We can not lead or guide those we do no try to understand and care for.” That she thought, more then the Black Ajah, more then the passage of eons, more then the shifting of time, was why the Tower was failing, growing more brittle by the day. A lack of care. Of humanity and humility. And empathy.

“Thank you.” Emarin said stepping over to squeeze her shoulder. “For caring.”

Cadsuane smiled at him and lean over lit the final candle.

[capriciouscaprine]

happy new month to everyone!!!

I have SO MUCH to do for my coursework, but I wanted to take the time to write a post about what I'm up to currently, what this month holds for me, and what my goals are for the future as we all head towards summer

currently, I just hit a goal # this morning, although it didn't feel all that impactful, and I'm pretty sure that's bc I both didn't get enough sleep last night and bc I don't have any rewards set up for myself besides the emotional reward of hitting that goal; obviously, I need to be consistent about getting enough sleep and have rewards ready for myself, but both of these are uniquely tricky right now bc I have an absurd sleep schedule (6 pm-2 am), no time, and even less money

I'm coming out of a six week full time unpaid internship, so my hours were drastically cut at my actual job; instead of five days, I was down to just two, and they were the two days the least amount of work and thus fewest available hours to get paid; I got a boost from cat sitting for my neighbor, whose cat needs careful monitoring and specific medicine on a pretty strict schedule, but this pay cut was on top of paying tuition for the semester, so I currently have negative money aka am carrying a balance on my credit card, to the tune of $3.5k (oof)

the good news is that with spring pollen comes increased hours, as my job is on a farm with both plants and animals; we've got seedlings to water and plant, babies to feed, and field trips to prep for and manage, so I've jumped from 3-4 hour days to 5-6 hour days, five days a week; I get paid pretty okay ($16/hr after taxes), but I still typically get less than 30 hours a week, so my monthly pay is only around $1.5k (rounding down for safety, especially since this a very recent jump)

looking forward to things happening this month, I have my final paper for my most important class of my entire masters degree, due WITH a presentation and handout on April 10th, and then two weeks later (less than or exactly 14 days, iirc) I must give a comprehensive presentation (and possibly turn in some other stuff??) about myself, my internship, my previously mentioned final paper, and a problem from our final exam, which will determine if I get my degree or not

oh, and I need to plan and record another internship observation, which I had been under the impression that I wouldn't need to do, which is due by the 15th, right in between all of these other things being due

I am under immense pressure right now, and it's definitely having a negative impact on my mental health; I'm managing not to burst into tears constantly or run away to the woods (a very short distance for me, so particularly tempting) thanks to both succeeding at other goals and knowing that their are specific dates for all of this to be over by; all I have to do is turn everything in on time (even if it sucks), and I'll be done with this degree by the end of this month and officially graduate in early May (ugh, need to order and pay for my cap and gown this week (~$200))

heading into next month, after everything is turned in (seems impossible to imagine, tbh, which is why I'm writing this post), I'll be free to PLAN and SET GOALS

(I'm so excited!!!)

like I said before, my pay isn't high and I've got debt I need to address on top of more bills coming in the future (six months of car insurance D: ), but I have to believe that I can get everything paid for and still have enough money to have a tiny bit of fun, too; I need to still down and draw up a budget, ESPECIALLY for food since I'm going to finally have time to make more things for myself!!! which will absolutely be cheaper than all the pre-made and pre-portioned meals and snacks I've been buying

the last time I had a big goal, I had a bar and a line graph to track my savings (my house down payment! ty 2018 mini recession, you made home ownership possible); now it'll be the double whammy of 'saving' for bills and paying down the old debt, plus I'm genuinely at the point of needing a new phone WITH a case, and all the actually functional phones with enough storage space, etc run just under $350, so with accessories that could be $500 aka NOT an impulse purchase!

otherwise, my big goal is to clean up my house: it has been TRASHED by consecutive roommates, but particularly by the most recent one; I have bits of stuff taking up space from everyone who's moved in and then out again over the past 5+ years, but the last one (who I made a whole rant post about) was so filthy when it came to using the kitchen that they left me an infestation of MULTIPLE types of insects, some of which I've never even seen before!!!

here in the southern US, we already deal with some insect trouble bc it doesn't get cold enough to fully kill them off, plus they can always be brought into a clean house from our great outdoors, which we have lots of; it isn't unusual for even the shiniest of mansions to get a roach sneaking into a bathroom or a line of ants running into the kitchen

in comparison, my house is genuinely disgusting, and I haven't been able to DO anything about it since classes and thus deadlines started back in August; the good news is this project won't take, relatively, that much money, and I even have a pretty good idea of what all I need to do to almost completely fix this! the only real problem is that it'll take a fair bit of physical labor and thus energy, which I don't always have a lot of, so I'll need to be strategic and get things done in phases and also not give up!

there are a lot of expensive things that have gone wrong and need fixing around the house, and there are even more expensive changes I want to make; I need to remind myself that all of these will happen in time, and I need to not obsess over them or let them demotivate me as I'm working towards addressing the issues that I can

in the far-flung future (it feels like), getting my degree means I am qualified for teaching jobs!!! math and teachers in general are in pretty high demand in my area (where aren't they right now?), and the pay is relatively high, as in double the highest I've ever made before in my entire life; once I've got my degree, I can dedicate myself to getting one of those jobs at a nearby school, and at that point, once I start getting those paychecks (fingers crossed), a whole new world will open up for me!!!

[sejanusbaby]

Being in a Relationship with Eddie Munson…

A/N: I literally manifested Eddie into Stranger Things. You don’t understand. He is actually dream boyfriend for me. I’ve never become so attached to a fictional character like this. I might make an NSFW version of this, or just turn this into a fic instead.

Warnings: Like, one curse word. Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns. Reader is also a bit of a “girly girl,” if you will. It’s also implied that the reader is shorter than Eddie. This might as well be a fic, but here we are.

I did not proof read this and sort of threw it together last minute, so I have everyone likes it. Let me know if I should turn this into a series instead! Also, send me any of your Stranger Things requests please!

Contains possible spoilers for Stranger Things, season four!

You had just transferred schools when you moved to Hawkins. Much against what you wanted, your parents had convinced themselves that the small town was the best place to be.

You wouldn’t have minded it, really. However, they chose to move right before your senior year began. This caused a ton of unwanted stress, on your part. You were forced to make new friends, in a new environment.

Your first day couldn’t go that bad, right? You stuck to your usual routine, styling your hair to perfection, wearing your pink lipstick and glittery eyeshadow. You had already set out your outfit for the day too. A light pink, long sleeved blouse with some ruffles on the sleeves. Your nicest blue jeans, with a pink belt, and some white flats.

Sure, you weren’t trying to impress anybody, but it wouldn’t hurt to make a good first impression. Right?

The assistant at the front desk was kind enough to give you your schedule for the semester. The school wasn’t too big, but still intimidating, nonetheless. She could probably tell by the look on your face.

Behind you, in one of the chairs, a boy, not much older than you, sat slouched over. He was tapping his foot, drumming his fingers on his knee. He had long, curly brown hair, tattoos scattered on different parts of his body, and wore a shirt with “The Hellfire Club” across it.

He must have felt you staring at him, because his finger drumming ceased, and he glanced up at you. His eyes were a warm, but dark brown. He smiled at you, causing your cheeks to flush, and you turned back to face the assistant at the desk.

“Okay,” the woman started to say. “Here’s a list of different clubs and extra curricular activities you might be interested in. Also, don’t forget the deadline coming up to pay for your cap and gown for graduation.”

You nodded, eager to figure out where your classes would be. As you took the paper from her, she glanced right behind you to the boy you had just noticed. “If I let you go now, do you think you could stay out of trouble for the rest of the day, Mr. Munson?” She inquired.

The boy stood up instantly, nodding his head, smiling. “Of course, Mrs. Nelson. I swear.” He said. The lady, Mrs. Nelson, rolled her eyes.

“The other condition is that you assist Ms. Y/L/N today, with helping her find her classes, and giving her a tour of the high school.” She stated, taking a seat in her chair.

“Yes, that’s no problem at all.” He said, still wearing a wide smile on his face. He rushed by you, opening up the door to the office, and gestured for you to go before him. “My lady, after you.” You smiled shyly. He was cute, for sure. Not someone you thought to be your type, though. Plus, you hadn’t even met anyone else yet. I’m sure there were plenty of other people in Hawkins that could be a match for you.

Eddie, on the other hand, felt his heart racing for some reason. You were so cute, the way your hair framed your face, the pink lipstick perfectly applied to your pretty lips, and the way you smiled. He needed to calm down, though. He didn’t even know you. He, quite literally, just met you.

“So, I didn’t quite catch your first name, hun.” He looked over to you. You blushed again, your eyes meeting his, only for you to break contact with them almost immediately. “It’s Y/N.” You said. “What’s yours?”

“It’s Eddie. Eddie Munson.” He shot a toothy grin at you. “So, where are you from, Y/N? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I used to live in New York, but my parents wanted somewhere more quiet to live, so here I am.” You explained to him. He listened, not interrupting at all.

“So, let’s see what we have here.” He said, snatching the schedule from your hands. “Hey, your first class is with Ms. O’Donnel. I have her first period too. Maybe we can talk more about you over a boring English lesson. What do you say, New York?” He teased you with the nickname. You smiled, starting to feel comfortable in his presence. “Totally.”

—

“Mr. Munson, are you and Ms. Y/L/N going to join us today?” The teacher asked, clearly annoyed with the whispering and giggling coming from you and Eddie.

“I’m sorry, Ms. O’Donnel.” Eddie cleared his throat. “I’m just helping Y/N here get comfortable with Hawkin’s High.” He nudged you with his elbow playfully, smiling at you. That damn smile, again.

—

Eddie helped you find each of your classes after that, even inviting you to sit with him and his friends at lunch.

After your first class, the day went pretty smoothly, until it was time for lunch. As you walked into the cafeteria, tray in hand, your eyes darted around to find Eddie, or at least an empty table to sit at.

Somehow, Eddie was able to spot you pretty quickly. He sauntered over to you, grasping one of your hands in his. You could feel the coolness of his rings on your own fingers. You had just met this guy. Why did it feel so natural to hold his hand? “Hey there again, New York. I saved you a seat right next to me.” You smiled as he led you to said seat.

“I’m honored to get to sit next to you, Munson.” You playfully teased. He laughed, “Hey, not many others have such privilege to be in your spot, New York.”

You noticed his friends eventually began to take there seats at the table. They were all sporting the same shirt that Eddie had been wearing. “So,” you began to say, “the Hellfire Club. What is that?”

“Have you ever heard of Dungeons and Dragons?” One of Eddie’s friends asked. He wore a baseball cap and had curls like Eddie. “I’m Dustin, by the way. Dustin Henderson.” He smiled brightly at you. You gave him a smile back. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Dustin. And yes, I know of D&D. I’ve never played though.” It was true. You had a younger brother who was into the game, though you never agreed to play with him and his friends.

Dustin was about to speak, when suddenly Eddie began speaking in a very deep voice, a magazine held up close to his face. “The Devil has come to America. Dungeons and Dragons, at first regarded as a harmless game of make-believe, now has both parents and psychologists concerned. Studies have linked violent behavior to the game, saying it promotes satanic worship, ritual sacrifice, sodomy, suicide, and even…” he trailed off, only to slam the magazine onto the table in front of him, “murder!”

You giggled at his impression, along with the others. “We’re freaks because we like to play a fantasy game.” He stood up on the table now. “But as long s you’re into band or science or parties or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets…”

Across the room, one of the basketball players stood up, looking at Eddie with a face of disgust. “You want something, freak?” He yelled. Eddie just stuck his tongue out at the guy, laughing while doing so.

“It’s forced conforming.” Eddie spoke. “That’s what’s killing the kids! That’s the real monster.” His friends laughed once again. Finally, he took his seat next to you again. “So, guys, this is Y/N.” He introduced you. His friends made brief introductions to you.

“So, uh, speaking of monsters, uh, Lucas has to do his, uh, balls-in-laundry-baskets game.” Dustin spoke, nervously. Eddie just glanced over at him. “So…” He trailed off, laughing, probably due to anxiety. “He’s not gonna be able to make it to Hellfire tonight.” He continued on, “And I know there’s no way we can beat your sadistic campaign without him. So, me and Mike were talking, shooting the shit, and we were thinking that maybe we might…” He paused.

“Postpone!” Mike finally spoke up, finishing off Dustin’s thought for him. Almost instantly, the majority of the group protested. After a heated discussion, Eddie came up with a solution for the two boys. Find a sub for this Lucas guy.

Dustin gestured to you. “What about your new girlfriend here, Eddie. She said she knows enough about the game. Have her sub for Lucas. Plus, you’ll get to spend more time with her that way.” The boy teased, chasing your cheeks to turn bright red. Eddie chuckled, looking to you.

“What do you say, New York? Just one time?” He asked, reached over and giving your hand a squeeze. “For me?” He put on a fake pouty face and batter his eyes at you. “Sure.” You agreed.

—

That was the beginning of you and Eddie’s relationship. You two became pretty much inseparable. Two best friends. You trusted him enough to try weed for the first time. Since then, you two met up at his trailer almost every day to smoke and hang out.

Your parents weren’t huge fans of him, as polite as he was when he came over to hang out with you. But they managed to tolerate your friendship with him.

One particular night, Eddie invited you over after school, and suggested a sleep over. “We can go pick up any movies you want to watch. We can even get pizza and smoke and have a good time.” He proposed to you, leaning against the lockers next to yours.

“I don’t know, Eddie. My parents would never let that happen. And I have that huge test on Monday to study for.” You rambled on. You were so cute, Eddie thought to himself.

“C’mon, sweetheart. It’s one night. Just tell your parents that you’ll be at Nancy’s. Plus, you have the rest of the weekend to study. I’ve barely gotten to see you this week.” He pleaded with you, holding his hand over his heart dramatically. You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Just pick me up from my place at 5 o’clock. Just so I can get some stuff together.” He smiled, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles.

“Of course, my lady. Your chariot will arrive at 5 o’clock sharp.” He said, smiling down at you. He was so pretty, you thought to yourself. “I’ll see you later, New York.” He called out, heading to his next class. You shook your head and laughed at him.

—

After picking you up, the movies up, and the pizza, you found yourself at Eddie’s trailer again. His uncle worked nights, so you knew you guys would have a smooth, undisturbed evening.

Eddie passed the blunt over to you, and began to set up the movie on the small TV that sat in the living room. You took a couple of hits from the blunt, and once your felt comfortably high, you passed the rest of it back to Eddie. You knew he’d finish it off, anyway. He always did. He knew you hated the burn.

The movie started, and you and Eddie began to eat your dinner together. He would make fun of the actors or characters most of the time. “Come on, Y/N. It’s so cheesy.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Someone’s got an attitude tonight.” He remarked, poking at you for fun.

“Eddie, I swear to God, if you touch me again, I will personally have to lay you out.” You laughed, threatening him playfully. He chuckled. “I would love to see you try, sweetheart.”

Without warning, you reached your hands over to Eddie, and began to attack his most ticklish spots. His ribs. “Not fair!” He protested, only to be cut off by more of his own laughter as you kept going.

At some point during all of this, you ended up on top of him, holding him down during your brutal attack to his sides. Eddie was able to get one of his free hands and start his own attack on you. “Hey!” You exclaimed, laughing uncontrollably now. You were both flipped now, Eddie pinning you down this time. He smiled down at you, and his hands ceased their attack on you. Once your caught your breathe, you noticed Eddie smiling down at you, his brown eyes locking into yours.

“Eddie—” you started to say. “You know, you’re so pretty, New York.” He said quietly. Without hesitation, you reached up to grab his face, and kissed him. He returned the kiss, his own hands finding their place on top of yours. He pulled away suddenly. “I’m sorry— I don’t know what I was thinking—” Eddie cut you off with another kiss. “Why are you apologizing. Don’t you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” He said quietly against your lips.

From that point on, you two were the knew “it” couple. Not for the same reasons that Steve and Nancy were. But because nobody understood why a girl like you was with a guy like Eddie.

Hell, even Eddie didn’t understand it. But he just knew how much he loved you and how lucky he was.

You two still continued to hang out pretty much every day. The hardest part was telling your parents about it. You told Eddie that you could tell them on your own. But he refused. “Your parents already don’t like me very much. The least I can do is be courteous and tell them I’m dating their daughter.” He had told you.

You were at every single band practice, too. And you showed up for every concert, as small as they were.

Everything was perfect. Eddie was completely in love with you.

He loves when you play with his hair, or even style it for him.

He’s just so proud of you. You’re the love of his life and he gets to call you his? It’s almost too good to be true.

Totally sneaks in through your window, now that your parents don’t let you have him over as much.

He usually takes you with him anytime he’s “doing business with someone.” This time, it happened to be Chrissy. Much to both of your surprises, but you could tell she was going through it.

It seemed like your presence with Eddie made it less intimidating for her, and you were glad it did. But when she asked for something stronger, and you and Eddie took her back to his trailer, everything went from totally perfect to a complete disaster.

[raineydays411]

Thanks T

 Summary: A dad is supposed to be your rock. Someone you can go to when times are hard. Someone whos supposed to protect you. WHat happens when your dad doesn’t fit the bill, and Tony does?

A/n: Hello yall! So this story hit really close to home for me lmao. It was mentioned that there aren’t any good dad/step dad Tony fics so I hope you like it. Everyone thank @alphaandromedae97 and an anon for this fic. 

Hope yall enjoy!

Your life was complicated. 

How can it not be when Tony “billionaire playboy” Stark is your step dad. 

Yes you read that right, step dad. It’s funny really, turns out he has a thing for waitresses that aren’t interested in him at first. That waitress being your mom.

They met when she was working a shift at the restaurant she works at, and he came in with Avengers. He expected her to fall at their feet like everyone else did, but she just scoffed and asked for their order. Pretty epic. 

Then one long montage later, and they ended up getting married. You were happy for your mom, of course. Deep down, Tony is a good man and you knew he’d do anything for your mom. And he’s always been nice to you, making sure you were okay with him proposing and then you moving upstate with him and your mom. He always made sure you felt included, maybe a little too much. He actually took interest in your life, which you’ll always appreciate. 

But you were a total daddy's girl by heart. You always felt like you had a close relationship with your biological father. He was a good dad, he took you out to movies, went to recitals, and always made sure to take you to the father-daughter dance your school district put on every year. It was your tradition. But after your parents divorced a few years ago, it seemed like he was getting more and more distant from you. He stopped calling as much, would skip out on your days to visit him and when you did visit, he’d lock himself in his office, claiming he had to finish some paperwork. It broke your heart, knowing that a man you were so close with, seems to be detaching himself from your life. But, in his defence he always managed to take you to the father-daughter dance. He always did. No matter how long the both of you went without seeing each other, no matter how long you haven’t spoken, he always made sure to take you. 

That act alone, reassured you that he did still love you. He was just busy. In fact, you were getting ready to go to the final father-daughter dance, as you were going to graduate this year and therefore you would be too old to attend the next year. This year was especially important to you. You wanted this night to be perfect. 

And you were positive your father would pull through as he has the past years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were filled with excitement as you tried on multiple different dresses. You always liked this part of getting ready, the dress shopping. 

The confidence you feel when you finally found the right dress. The happy feeling you and your mother had, browsing through the dress shop downtown. Tony offered to buy you a custom designer dress, but you couldn’t accept. This was the shop you’ve been going to since you were a little girl, since you went to your very first dance with your dad. Call it nostalgia or tradition, but you couldn’t shop anywhere else. 

“ Hey ma! I think I found the one.” You shout from the dressing room, finally finding your dress after hours of searching. 

“Come out here and let’s see bug” She replies from where shes seated. You take a deep breath, soothing the wrinkles on the dress and walking outside. Your mother gasps as she see the gown. It was beautiful really. It was a glittery, lilac purple floor length dress with spaghetti straps. And it even had pockets! You were absolutely obsessed. Plus, you could probably use it as a prom dress if you really wanted to.

“Oh baby...you look so beautiful...” You mom says, tearing for the millionth time. 

“Ma, are you crying again?!” You laugh, “ Come on, that's the fifth time you’ve cried since we’ve been in the store!”

She laughs with you, sniffling as she wipes her tears,” I’m sorry, but you’re getting so big, it feels like it was only yesterday we were walking in this shop to get your first dress...and now...” She starts to cry again.

You smile softly, understanding what your mom was saying. You were in kindergarten when you first started attending these meetings, now you’re a senior in highschool. 

“Alright, no more crying. It’s a happy day for you. Has your father called texted you when he was going to come pick you up?” Your mom asked wiping her tears.

You frown, “ No, I haven;’t hear from him since two weeks ago when he said he wanted to get lunch.”

You can see your mom roll her eyes in the mirror, “ Mom he’s just busy. I’m sure he’ll call when he can.”

“Oh sure, I just hate that he doesn’t answer you fast enough.”

“I know ma, but he has work” You argue, “ He calls when he can, and that's okay.”

Your mom sighs, knowing that you were stubborn when it comes to your father. 

“ Well, let’s get this wrapped, Tony wants to get lunch and we need to convince him to get something other than shawarma.” 

You roll your eyes, “ God, what’s with that man and shawarma. It’s like his life line or something”

“I know!”

After the two of you buy the dress, you pick up Tony from the HQ. You loved the drive up there,mainly because of the scenery, but also cause you can see Cap running laps outside.

“Hell my love, hey kiddo” Tony greets switching seats with your mom.

‘Hey T” You greet, smiling at the man. 

“Did you find the dress?” He asks, driving away from his place of work and to a restaurant. 

“Yeah! It’s like the one I told you I wanted. I was surprised it was there to be honest.” You reply, “ Mom practically dehydrated herself shopping though.”

“Oh? How many times did she cry this time? Cause she was crying earlier when she was getting read-- OW! Hey I’m driving” He exclaims as your mom swats his arm.

You giggle at their antics, chest warming with the sight of your mom happy again.

“She cried five times while we were shopping. Five!”

“Five? I didn’t know the human body had that much water.”

The two of you chuckled as your mom made an offended noise.

“I hate that the two of you get on so well.” She pouts, “ And excuse me if I’m a little sad my baby is growing up so fast.”

You tune out the rest of their conversation as your phone buzzes. 

Dad

Hey kid, I’m gonna have to meet you at the school tomorrow. I have a meeting that’s gonna run late.

You

Okay daddy, I’ll see you there <3

You frown, your dad always managed to pick you up from the house. He used to take you to eat before the dance. And he always used to take the day off, devoting his time to you.

“ Uh oh, someone's frowning back there.” Tony remarks, “ What’s wrong kiddo, did a character off that show you like die/”

“Uh no, ma do you think you can drop me off at the dance tomorrow? Dad said he has a late meeting and won’t be able to pick me up.”

Your mother makes eye contact with Tony. They both know how your father has been flaking on you and how it breaks your heart that he does. It makes Tony especially mad because it remind him of his childhood. How his father really didn’t pay attention to him unless he was criticizing  his life choices.

“ Hey y/n, I can drop you off if you want.” Tony offers, “ I really don’t mind.”

You smile, “Thanks T.” 

“No problem kid.”

And with that he pulls into the restaurant parking lot. 

As your family is seated, you take a quick look around the restaurant, wanting to see the reactions of the patrons when they realize Tony Stark is in the building. But as you do, you see a man who looks very familiar. But before you can take a closer look your mom interrupts you.

“Y/n, you know it's rude to stare.”

“Oh sorry mom.” 

So you take a seat and continue with your meal. You tune out your mother and Tony’s conversation as you can’t take your mind off of that man. You take a quick glance back while your parents discuss the dessert menu.

That’s when you realize that the man was your father!

You stand up from the table and make your way towards the man. Surprised to see him there because as far as you know, he’s supposed to be in a meeting right now.

“Daddy?” You ask cautiously. The man tenses up before turning to you.

“Y/n? Honey what are you doing here?” You notice he doesn’t make an attempt to get up and hug you. 

And you also notice the second plate of food across from him and a napkin stained with what looked like lipstick.

“Um, T and Ma wanted to grab dinner.. I thought you were at a meeting?”

“This is a five star restaurant, and you just stopped in?” He asks ignoring your question, “ Of course Stark did..”

You wanted to roll your eyes. Everytime your mother was even close to being happy, your dad always found something wrong with the person she was with. But he seemed to have a strong disliking towards Tony for some reason.

“Um right...So you told me you were in a meeting? That’s why I couldn’t come over after dress shopping?”

“Right! A meeting...I’m currently in right now.” He says quickly looking towards the women's bathroom, “ You should go back to your table hon, my boss is really strict”

“Oh right, sorry” You say dejected, “ I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” your dad says with a soft smile, “ I love you Bug.”

You smile at the nickname your parents gave you, “ I love you too pop.” 

And with that you walk off, back to your mother and Tony. You can see they’re trying to hide the fact that they were watching by covering their face with the dessert menus.

“Oh here you are, we got you a tiramisu” Tony says nonchalantly, pushing the dessert towards you.

“Uh huh” You hummed teasingly, “ Dad says hi by the way.” 

“ Oh does he now?” You mom said not convinced, “ That’s nice of him.”

You hummed, mouthful of cake signaling that you were done with the conversation. Your family finished up their meals and signaled for the check. As you were walking out the restaurant, you turned to say goodbye to your dad, only to see his “boss” was back from the restroom.

Only this boss was a 5′3, brunette bombshell in a tight red dress and having her neck kissed by the man you call your father. 

Your stomach felt sick.

“Oh gross, I really didn’t need to see that.” You mutter catching the attention of Tony who was behind you. 

“See what kid?” He asks following your gaze, “Oh. Yikes is that even allowed? I didn’t know your dad was a vampire.”

You snort, “ Oh god T, that's disgusting.” 

He just laughs and pats your head, “ Come on, lets go before your mom yells at us.”

You smile, but you wondered why your dad didn’t tell you that he was on a date. Or that he was even seeing someone?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thoughts of your fathers secrets where wiped from your brain as you scrambled to get ready for the dance the next day.

Tony surprised you and your mom with a mani-pedi day at 10am and a hair appointment for you at 1pm. After you had to get shoes for your dress at the mall and then be home by 5pm to get your dress and makeup on, take pictures, and then be out the door by 7pm to take pictures with your dad, then finally be at the dance by 8pm when doors open. 

The whole day you were messaging your dad about how excited you are, getting similar replays back. He pays for you shoes and complements your hair. 

Your heart swells as you think about how hard it was in the beginning of the divorce. But your father always tried his best to spend time with you and made sure you knew he loved you.  

It was hard on you at first, but you appreciate that he tried for you. The fact that he’s been taking you to this dance since you were a little girl is proof enough. You were a little sentimental, this was your last dance after all. 

You smiled looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked beautiful in your dress. Your makeup was done to perfection and you had gotten a silk press in your hair. You felt like a princess.  You heard your mom sniffle.

“Mom, again?” You laugh,turning to face her.

“I’m sorry! You just look so beautiful!” she says with a sad smile, “ God, you grew up so fast bug” 

You roll your eyes, but feel the tears spring to your eyes as well, “ Ma! Stop I can’t ruin my make up” 

You both laugh as you fan your eyes

“You ready?” She asks, “ Tony’s waiting for you in the living room.”

You nod, gathering your things and walking out the door. You let your mom walk down the stairs first. You can hear Tony and you assume Happy in the living room. You finally make it down the stairs. It turns out it was Tony, Happy, and Peter Parker. Your mom was chatting with them and they all had their back turned to you. 

“Ahem.” You clear your throat, catching their attention.

You see Peter stiffen as he gazes at you and mutters a soft “Wow”

You blush, what can you say he’s a cutie.

 Happy gives you a comforting smile.

 And Tony?

He has a soft look on his face, “ Jeez kid, you clean up well.” 

You laugh, “ Better than you old man, what's up with the pants?”

He had on Iron Man pj pants.

“Oh hush.” He laughs, “ You look beautiful kiddo.” 

You look down with a grin.

“Oh pose for some pictures!” You mom says excitedly, “ Go Y/n, by your self first and then with me. Then with Tony.”

You sigh, knowing how long it was gonna take.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally after three million pictures, your mom and Tony drove you to the school.

“Okay bug, is your dad here?” Your mom asks looking around at the group. 

“Yeah! He should be inside.” You say kissing your mom goodbye and waving to Tony. You show the ticket and waltz in the gym. 

You smile and wave at classmates and parents. These people you’ve known since you were a child and who knew you. You finally got to the table you always sat at woth your dad. 

It was empty.

You frown and look at your phone.

Me

On my way pop!

It said the message was read.

“He must be on  driving” You think to yourself as you sat at the table.

But then twenty minutes passed. Then an hour. then two

You were still there, waiting for your dad to come. You sent five messages and they all remained unopened. 

You looked around the gym, seeing a few parents looking at you with pity in their eyes. You can barely stand it.

You got up and went to the restroom, trying not to cry. and in the restroom you tried calling you father, but you were sent to voicemail. The you finally got a message. 

Dad

“I’m so sorry bug, I can’t make it to the dance. I have a meeting today. :(”

You felt dejected. Humiliated. 

Your father has rearranged visitation days, skipped out on little crimonied and rectitals you’ve had, but this by far was the most disappointing thing he has done. 

He promised multiple times that he’d be here. Never has he ever skipped out on the dance before.  ANd he knew how important this was to you. Thi was your last dance, and he ruined it. 

You let yourself cry. You sobbed as you realized that your father has been distancing himself from you. That your relationship hasn’t been okay for a while. And you just didn’t want to let go.

You sigh as you realize you’ve been in the restroom for a while. You stand up and look at your face. Despite the red eyes and slightly red nose, your make up was pretty much intact.

“Huh at least my setting spray hasn’t let me down.” You say to your self. After a few mintues of calming down, you walk out of the restroom and bump into a figure. 

“Sorry” you mutter about to pass the person. 

“Gee you took a while in there, I told you not to get that coffee kid.” 

You quickly look up and se Tony.

Dressed in a suit, flowers in hand.

“Hey kid.” He says softly

“what..what are you doing here?” You whisper, tears filling your eyes again.

“Well apparently you need an rent a dad, and I happened to be in the neighborhood.” He jokes, then says, “ I’m sorry your dad didn’t come kiddo, and I know I’m not him, and quite frankly I’m glad I’m not. But I do love you like you’re my own, and well...yeah here I am.”

You stay quiet, looking at Tony in wonder. Touched that he did this for you.

“Of course if you just want to leave then we can just get out of here” He rambles nervously, “ But you gotta tell me kid cause I’m kinda freaking out.”

“Can we get ice cream after?” You ask him

“What?”

“After the dance, we should go get ice cream.” 

“Uh sure?” Tony says, “So what do you usually do at these things?” 

You laugh and steer him to the tables where they have all the activities at. You actually have more fun with him than you had recently wit your dad. Tony is definitely more competitive than your father and treats every game as a challenge. Not like something he’s humoring just for his kid. He celebrates with you instead of telling you to calm down. He chats with the adults, is nice to the kids, and does the goofy dances with you. Seeing Iron Man do the chicken dance is something you didn’t know you needed till now. He managed to turn this horrible night to one of the best ones you’ve had in quite a while. 

Finally the father daughter dance started to signal the end of the dance. Tony bowed dramatically and said in a horrible british accent, “ Lady Y/n?”

You laugh and make your way to the dance floor. You’re both quiet for a bit, snorting at how serious the other dads and their daughters look.

“Hey T?” You say softly, looking at the ground.

“Yeah kid?” 

“Thank you. It’s nice to know that one of my dad's isn’t a total asshole.” You say. knowing that this is the first time you referred to Tony as your dad.

His eyes get misty as he clears his throat,

“Anytime, bug”

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Paloma, Part I

Series Masterlist - Part I - Part II

Word count: 4100+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Statesman!Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels, and "You" (OC cis/het female reader, Statesman research analyst, code name “Paloma”; age 26; reader is “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: fully legal age gap; curse words; references to M/F sex; lots of yearning; a little sprinkling of angst; American readers, please be warned that this piece features the absolutely filthy fantasy of Statesman paying off your student loans in full

You left Kentucky on a sunny June morning with a rolling suitcase, six cardboard boxes, and a heart full of golden light. You were ready for the new challenges of your promotion and the move to New York, but it was still hard to quell the little butterflies that insisted on dancing and twirling in your gut. Statesman HQ was like a beacon that had been calling to you for the last three years, and you were half-convinced that the promotion and the move were a daydream; something that would be snatched out of your hands if you thought about it too much.

It was strange to leave Kentucky, your home since you were four years old. You had been raised in a small town about an hour south of Louisville, and you hadn't had the opportunity to leave until college. Even then you didn't travel very far, just to a dorm room at the University of Louisville, going back to your hometown for every vacation instead of flying off to California or Europe like some of your more glamorous friends.

You had put your time to good use, though. You busted your ass and completed an accelerated program in Criminal Justice that earned you both a Bachelor's and a Master's in one go, with a minor in statistics and data science. The result was a deep and abiding love of research and analysis, with the burning desire to do good in the world.

---

The Friday morning of your graduation ceremony, you emerged from your apartment fresh-faced and giddy, ready to walk the stage and start the next phase: adult life in the "real world." You knew that your life was about to change, but as you juggled the garment bag with your cap and gown and tried to lock your door, you had no idea just how much. You heard a soft voice say your name behind you, and it made you jump and drop your purse, spilling the contents across your doorstep. You turned to see a woman of about 40, with flawless terra-cotta skin and an adorable mop of chestnut hair. Black horn-rimmed glasses framed bright, inquisitive eyes. She immediately bent to help you retrieve your belongings, stammering gentle apologies.

"I'm so sorry! Let me help you get your things. I didn't mean to scare you." She smiled sweetly at you and handed you back your sunglasses and lip gloss.

"No! It's fine, I'm sorry I'm so preoccupied." You lifted the garment bag by way of explanation. "Graduation day! Um, how can I help you?"

"You don't know me, but my name is Ginger. I work for an organization that recruits bright young minds like yours. It's a lot to explain, but if you're interested in a job interview next week, we'd love to talk with you." She handed you a creamy white business card with a Louisville address.

You frowned. "Statesman Distillery? I don't have any experience with alcohol production or marketing. I do data analysis and my degrees are in criminal justice."

"We know. We've been following your research and your schooling for a while." She gave you a mischievous smile, and it looked for all the world like she was hiding something fun behind it, something secretive and intriguing that made you want to know more.

"Please, just give me an hour of your time next week? When you have some time to pay us a visit, just call that number and ask for me. I'm really looking forward to chatting with you."

You thanked her and promised you would call, and then you tucked the card into your bag and forgot all about it for nearly a week. Graduation day was hectic, with lots of relatives visiting and interrogating you about your career plans, and the days afterward were spent attending parties and saying goodbye to friends who were scattering to far-flung places. After you had finished the last of your university-related errands like returning a few library books and picking up your official transcript, there wasn't much left to do except putter around your apartment and take a few days off before beginning a job search. Those student loans weren't going to pay themselves off.

You found Ginger's card in your purse on Wednesday morning and put it on the fridge with a magnet. On Thursday you were so hungover you didn't want to make any calls. On Friday you found yourself at loose ends with nothing planned, so you picked up the phone and dialed. When you reached the switchboard you gave your name and asked for Ginger, and they put you right through. She picked up after one ring, as if she had been waiting for your call.

"Hi! I'm so glad you called me! Can you come by today?" Ginger sounded genuinely excited to talk to you, not smarmy or fake like other corporate recruiters you had spoken with.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, yes, thank you. Are you sure today's okay? I can come next week if that's better."

"No! Please come whenever you're ready. I'm really hoping you'll like what you see."

"Okay, will I need to dress up? Will I be meeting with anyone for an interview? Should I bring copies of my resume?" You wanted to make a good impression, but you weren't sure if this was just something the distillery did casually, like a winery tour, or if you would need to be ready for a formal interview.

"Nope! Just bring yourself! We already know everything we need to know about your qualifications."

"Ah... okay. I'm all yours. I'll see you in about an hour?"

"Perfect! I'll leave your name at the front gate with the guard. Just show them your ID and they'll wave you through."

You said your goodbyes and put the phone down. What kind of data analysis job was even available at a distillery? Market trends? Did they need a criminal justice major for tracking down rip-offs, like people counterfeiting their product? But wait, didn't the government do that kind of thing? The ATF? You shook your head clear of questions and hopped in the shower. You could ask Ginger all of your questions, since she seemed to be so happy to talk with you.

When you arrived at the Statesman Distillery an hour later, you were impressed at the size of the facility. Distilleries were pretty common in the state of Kentucky, with lots of little family companies sprinkled around. But Statesman rivaled the big names for sheer square footage.

Ginger met you in a conference room and offered you coffee, and then asked you to sign a non-disclosure agreement. You didn't think twice about it. NDAs were common in lots of industries, and you guessed that it had something to do with trade secrets, Statesman not wanting to leak information about their whiskey production details. When Ginger began the tour and you walked down a long hallway with multiple sparkling white laboratories behind thick glass, you found it unusual, but not alarming. Cleanrooms, maybe? Something to do with alcohol distillation formulas, probably.

When she ushered you into a large wood-paneled office and introduced you to Champ, the head of Statesman, you thought it was odd. Companies didn't normally introduce new college graduates to executives during tours. Based on the size of the organization, you thought you might meet the CEO or President once or twice a year, maybe at a holiday party or a company retreat. But he was friendly, and he seemed to have already heard of you; his eyebrows raised an inch at Ginger when she gave him your name. He also seemed far more interested in criminal justice and data analysis than you expected for a distillery executive, but you shook hands and answered all of his questions politely.

When Ginger asked you to step into an elevator and it dropped 10 floors, you started to wonder a little. When the doors opened and she walked you to a room with a huge bank of monitors, with screens showing all kinds of maps and security video feeds, you were downright confused. But when she revealed the cherry on top, the fact that Statesman was not in the business you thought they were? That was too shocking. You were sure she was joking. You turned behind you to look for hidden cameras, expecting a prank show host to come jumping out at you.

"This is a joke, right?"

Ginger smiled that sweet, warm smile at you. "No joke. We want you to join the Research Unit, working in the Data Analysis section. You would be keeping our agents safe, helping them make the best decisions possible. And in turn your work could save lives, hundreds of them. Maybe even thousands. What do you say?"

"I... uh... I still think you’re joking. I’ve never heard of anything like this. I… are you sure you want me?"

"Yes, if you're interested. We could use you on the team." She pushed a little slip of paper into your hand, and when you saw the annual salary that was listed, you almost fainted.

"Ginger, this is way too much. I just graduated and this is, like... this is a senior analyst's salary. I'd be able to pay off my student loans in like three years!"

"Actually, we would be paying your student loans off before you start work. If you have financial burdens hanging over your head you could be vulnerable to bribes or extortion attempts from foreign governments or bad actors. We want you clear before you start with us. Think of it as a signing bonus."

"Holy shit! Sorry, I mean... I... Jesus." You looked at her in confusion. "Y'all really want me?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, we really do."

"Okay, when do I start?"

And that had been it, your first "big girl" job out of college. You were welcomed warmly to the Statesman team, and you loved the fact that you did interesting work that had a real impact. The hardest part had been telling your friends and family the required cover story, saying you were doing market analysis until you could find a job in criminal justice somewhere. But since you were happy with your new job and it paid well, none of them pressured you to move on.

During your first two years with Statesman you climbed the ranks, earning promotions and new responsibilities that eventually put you in the seat of Assistant Director of Data Analysis. You had risen high enough in Statesman that your work required a code name, and you chose “Paloma,” a nod to your favorite grapefruit cocktail. You answered directly to the head of the Research Unit, and every report that your team produced was vital. You weren't wasting your talent in some corporate hole, enriching the CEO's salary at the expense of your sanity. You were saving lives, making a difference. Your reports had even been sent to the New York headquarters, where they used them as a model for operations.

And the job had brought you romance, too. One day not long after your promotion to Assistant Director, you were walking out of the conference room, so focused on your phone that you didn't see where you were going. You bumped into something large and solid in a denim shirt, and a pair of warm, calloused hands held your shoulders to steady you. You cursed softly to yourself and then looked up into the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes that you had ever seen. A man with patchy stubble and a well-worn baseball cap smiled at you, eyes crinkling with warmth.

"Whoa! Are you okay?" His eyes looked concerned as they searched your face. You looked at him with wonder. He was so, so beautiful. The smile dropped, and then his brows knitted together into a slight frown. "I said, are you okay?"

You realized you were staring with your mouth half open like some lovestruck teenager, and that an embarrassing amount of time had passed since you first met his eyes.

"Yes!" Your voice was louder than you intended. "Yes, I'm sorry. Sorry I bumped into you. I should have watched where I was going. I'm sorry."

"That's okay. Did I hurt you?"

"Ah, no. No, I'm fine. Sorry. Just distracted today."

"That's okay. Sorry I startled you." He smiled again and squeezed your upper arm.

You could have stayed there forever, leaning into his touch. He let go, much to your chagrin, and then went into the conference room. You made a note to ask someone who he was, to see if you could find out more about him. He wasn't being escorted by a staff member, so he was obviously part of the Statesman organization somehow. Someone would know who he was.

You went into the ladies room, running into Ginger at the sinks. "Oh, Paloma! I'm so glad I saw you. I need to steal your boss for an urgent matter. Can you run his 11:00 meeting in the conference room? I know it's last minute, but I'll buy you lunch later."

Your brain flickered out for a nanosecond. The 11:00 meeting? The conference room? The handsome man? You recovered your composure and smiled at Ginger. "Yeah, no problem at all. Tell him to drop his notes off in the conference room and I'll be there in just a moment."

Ginger smiled and punched your shoulder softly. "Thanks, Pal. I owe you one."

You washed your hands in a trance. Oh lord, this was going to be interesting. You squared your shoulders and met your own eyes in the mirror. You looked exactly like you had this morning, just your normal self. Most of the time that was fine, but right now you wanted to be more glamorous, more devastating. You wanted to absolutely bewitch the handsome mystery man in the meeting. In the absence of some kind of last-minute emergency Hollywood makeup team, you would have to settle for a fresh application of lip balm and a quick scrub of your teeth with a damp paper towel. You flicked a stray eyebrow hair into place, sighed, and headed back to the conference room. Looks weren't important anyway, right? Statesman had hired you for your brain, not your face. And really, you were more interested in showing your boss that you could do well in your new role. So you banished your insecurities from your mind and breezed into the meeting.

"Good morning everyone." You studiously chose not to look at the handsome man you had run into, keeping your eyes on your notes for the time being. You were afraid that if you looked at him you wouldn't be able to tear your gaze away. "The Director has been called away for an urgent matter, so I'll be leading today’s operational planning meeting. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Paloma."

You risked a glance at the handsome stranger, relieved to see that his eyes were on his notepad and not on you. You let out a breath and found your stride, walking the group through the team's findings, the data, the implications, and the desired outcome for the mission. Agent Tequila asked a few cocky, half-assed questions, probing you for weaknesses. Normally that would have irritated you, but today it was a welcome focus that took your mind off the butterflies. You knocked Tequila back in place with a few well-chosen words, and then opened up the floor for questions.

The handsome man raised his hand, and your eyes fixed on how large and thick his fingers were. Oh God, this was torture. "Yes, Mr...?"

"Catfish. Um, can you tell me more about the extraction plan?"

"Yes, absolutely." You went over that phase of the mission, giving all the details your team had gathered about the terrain and the timing. When you were done, Catfish smiled at you, and your knees went weak at the sight of the dimple that appeared. No one else had questions, so you closed the meeting and stood to leave.

Suddenly there was a warm wall of denim at your elbow. "Hey, that was really detailed information. Thank you so much for walking me through everything."

You turned and smiled. "You're welcome. Glad I could help." You fumbled for something to say, trying to extend the conversation and keep him in your orbit for however long you could while everyone else filed out of the room.

"So, um, you go by 'Catfish.' Can I ask why? That's your code name, right? There's not some kind of hidden tragedy where that's the name your parents actually wrote on your birth certificate?"

He chuckled, throwing his head back. The expanse of his thick neck and bobbing Adam's apple did nothing to improve the butterflies. They only fluttered harder, rising higher in your chest.

"It's an old Army nickname, I was Special Forces about a million years ago. Now I'm here on the transport team. I'm a helicopter pilot. When we're not working you can just call me Frankie."

"Ah." You bit your lip and nodded. Why couldn't you think of something else to say? Fortunately, Frankie continued the conversation.

"And you're Paloma around here? I love that drink. Am I allowed to know your real name, or is that classified?"

You grinned and shook his hand, giving him your name. When it rolled off his lips in that deep voice it sounded like heaven to you. You didn't want anyone else to say your name ever again. Just him.

He leaned closer, like he was sharing a secret. “Can I ask you a question? Top secret.” He winked, and you nodded.

“Can I take you to lunch?”

Your heart dropped into your pelvis, and you gulped, hard. “Y-yes. Yes, that would be great. I’d love to.”

---

When Ginger found you in your office at 2:00 p.m. you were staring off into space, smiling blissfully.

“Hey, Paloma. Why did you blow me off for lunch? I came by at 12:30, I was going to take you out.”

“Oh! Oh my god, Ginger, I’m so sorry! I had a date.”

She raised her eyebrows at you, settling down in one of your visitors chairs. “A date?”

“No! Not a date. A, um…” You burst into husky giggles, and then confessed everything to her: the handsome man, the crinkles around his eyes, his dimples and his silly code name, the easy conversation over lunch, and the fact that he had scribbled his phone number down on a sticky note that was now burning a hole in your pocket. You felt like you were 12 again, confiding in your girlfriend about crushes and cute boys.

Ginger laughed and gave your hand a squeeze. “No wonder you forgot about me. I can’t compete with a handsome helicopter pilot!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Ginger. I really didn’t mean to forget.”

“No, it’s okay. But definitely call him this weekend and make a real date. I’ll want details when you take me out for an apology lunch on Monday.” She winked and left your office.

You sat back in your chair and tilted back to look at the ceiling while you considered it. Was it too soon to call him and make a date? Ugh, this was agony. You decided that going by conventional rules hadn’t really mattered to you at any point in your life until now, so why the hell not?

You took a deep breath, trying to puff up your confidence. When he answered the phone on the second ring, you dove right in. “Hi, Catfish? It’s Paloma. Listen, I had a really good time at lunch, and I’d like to see you this weekend if you’re free.”

---

On Monday, you had a whole lot to report to Ginger.

Frankie took you up for a sightseeing flight on your date, and you loved the way he controlled everything; making sure he warned you before any sudden movements, and checking that you weren’t getting airsick or anxious. When the rotors were stilled and you were back on the ground, Frankie reached over to help you unbuckle your harness. Something got stuck, and the agonizing extra seconds of feeling him jostle the strap near your hip made you bold. When it was finally free and he was about to pull his hand away, you grabbed his wrist. He looked at you, alarmed that something was wrong, and you crashed your lips against his, all teeth and tongue and wanting. Frankie was as good a kisser as he was a pilot, and you spent the rest of the date making out in his truck.

The next weekend, you found out that his warm, work-worn hands were also magic in the bedroom. Frankie was adept at tweaking your sensitive spots as gently as the little buttons and switches of the flight panel, bringing you to thrumming heights the same way he did his helicopter.

The rest of the summer passed in heady, humid days and nights like a dream. You loved Frankie’s easy sense of humor and his confidence in the cockpit. But Frankie was less confident about your relationship, voicing concerns about the decade-plus that separated your ages, and whether he was keeping you from dating men your own age. He made self-deprecating comments about being an “old man,” and you reassured him that there was no one you’d rather be with, no one who could sway your attention. You loved using your hands and arms and lips and tongue to reassure him, finding that he had his own sensitive spots that you could manipulate. You loved sending him to sleep with a smile on his face.

But as much as you and Frankie enjoyed the relationship, the nature of his work with the transportation team meant that he was never in town for very long. At the same time, your job was getting more complex, requiring late nights at the office that interfered with your time together. You refused to dwell too much on the fact that you were torn, that you loved your work as equally as you wanted to spend those nights with Frankie.

By the end of the summer, you both came to the realization that it was nobody’s fault, simply a case of poor circumstances, and you decided to end things and remain friends. In October Frankie left Statesman to take a job that relocated him to Florida. You were wistful, and you missed him, but at least it had been an amicable split. At least friends was something. And as sometimes happens even with the best of intentions, the time in between each phone call grew longer, and you eventually lost touch. Last you heard he was spending weekends with his old Army buddies who all lived nearby, and he had a new girlfriend. By February the ache was starting to subside, and by April you were nearly ready to date again.

In May, almost three years to the day after Ginger’s visit to your apartment had changed your life, you were offered the position to lead the Data Analysis team in New York. You jumped at the chance. Statesman located an apartment for you, and from the pictures you were already in love with it. Huge windows looked out over the city, and it was within walking distance of Statesman HQ. Your farewell party was bittersweet. Ginger offered to come visit you, and promised that New York would be everything you hoped it would be. Your team gave you such high praises that you joked that if that’s what it took to hear accolades, you would have left ages ago.

---

Your first few days in New York were spent acclimating to the Statesman HQ, and getting to know your neighborhood. It was strange to find that you could walk or take the subway for whatever you needed, compared to the Midwest where a car was required for everything. Your new team was welcoming, and you enjoyed your new duties immensely. Your first two weeks on the job passed in no time, and you went home every night feeling like you could fly.

And then you hit a wall, in the form of Jack Daniels, a.k.a. “Senior Agent Whiskey.” You knew him by reputation, of course. Ginger had filled you in on his exploits, his overbearing charm, his smarmy flirtations. You had seen him once or twice in passing when he had visited Champ’s office, but you hadn’t actually met him in person.

When you finally did, you almost asked for an immediate transfer back to Louisville. --- "Paloma" Series Masterlist Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

Tag list: @honeymandos @driedgreentomatoes @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @honestly-shite @anaaaispunk @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @nicolethered @dihra-vesa @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @anxiousandboujee

[protect-him]

For DADW “You did WHAT?”

For @dadrunkwriting

I actually have no idea what this turned into. All I know is it's fenders and these two have been very busy developing distant feelings and telling no one, as per usual.

“You did WHAT?”

Anders grabbed his best friend’s arm and shook him.

“Garret Fucking Hawke.”

Hawke grinned, that shit-eating grin that had gotten Anders and himself into so much trouble—and so much fun—over the years.

“Please tell me you didn’t invite Fenris. You have to be joking.”

“Look, I know you think he’s pretentious and arrogant.”

“He is.”

“But he wasn’t doing anything, he was asking about how your studies were going, and I thought I’d invite him to your graduation ceremony.”

“From the fucking University of Mage Arts.”

“Sure, why not?”

Anders pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know they have demonstrations scheduled. Magic demonstrations. And I’m doing one of them.”

“Exactly! Let Fenris see what magic can do.”

“He knows what it can do. It did worse things to him than ever came out of the Maker’s bum.”

Hawke burst out into laughter.

“Hawke, this isn’t funny!”

“Anders, it’s going to be fine. I’ll be sitting next to him, he knows there are going to be demonstrations. I’m not that dense.”

“Pretty damn close to it,” Anders muttered, cramming his graduation cap on his head.

“Hey, in all seriousness.” Hawke put a hand on the silky fabric covering Anders’ shoulder. “I know what this means to you. I wouldn’t have invited Fenris if I didn’t think he’d be respectful and decent.”

Anders sneered doubtfully, but remained silent.

“Besides, he’ll come to the Hanged Man with us after, and the more the merrier!”

Anders rolled his eyes.

“Go on, get out, I need to prepare the rest of my spells for the demonstration.”

Hawke waved and ducked out of the classroom where Anders was preparing for the ceremony. Anders only had a short speech to do, and then there were seven demonstrations, his spirit healing demonstration last of them all, being one of the most promising theses being presented this year.

As Anders mounted the steps to stand backstage while the presenter before him flourished and threw sparkles into the air above him to finish his demonstration, Anders smiled. Of course! Everyone who came to see the graduation ceremony had to sign a consent form to be possibly affected by magic. There was no way Fenris would have signed that form. He gave Dorian a cheerful smile as they passed each other, and Anders stepped onto the stage. His smile wilted as he looked to where Hawke’s arms waved in the air, giving him two big thumbs up. And next to him sat Fenris. Anders couldn’t see his face beneath the bright hair, but he imagined Fenris glaring at him. He swallowed and refreshed his smile for the audience.

His professors all sat in the front row and eagerly clapped as Anders gave the very short version of his thesis, hopefully in words that even grumpy mage-haters like Fenris could understand. At some point he forgot about Fenris, caught up in explaining how spirit healing could help with medical procedures, calming and numbing spells to act in place of anesthetics.

“For my demonstration, I am going to perform a spell that I’ve been working on,” Anders announced. “Panacea is defined as something which cures all ailments. My altered Panacea spell does not cure anything, but it is a soothing spell which will ease pain. If anyone in the room is experiencing a headache or some other pain, you will most likely feel it easing, or perhaps leaving entirely. I’ve been modifying this spell to be unintrusive, unnoticeable, and to extend over a greater distance. Though, for theatrics, I have included some lights.” He grinned and widened his stance to begin casting. Panacea didn’t really take much to cast, it was simple, but for the sake of demonstration, he added some flair and a sparkling green glow. The movements of his arms did help him to cast the spell further, so that it could reach the entire room.

Silence fell as the spell settled over the audience. Anders knew it was working, he could feel the spell soaking into the audience, doing its quiet and gentle work.

“It will last through the end of the ceremony,” he said, giving a bow. His professors jumped up, clapping for him. Hawke did as well. Fenris did not, but he was clapping along with the audience. That was something at least. Anders smiled and waved as he left the stage. There were a few other short speeches, but Anders didn’t listen, he was too excited to pay attention.

Anders changed out of his graduation gown and cap and went out to meet Hawke and Fenris. Hawke designated Anders to ride in the passenger seat, and Fenris sat in the back.

They arrived at the Hanged Man.

“Anders, may I ask you something?” Anders was surprised to hear Fenris from the back seat.

“Uh, sure.”

Fenris glanced at Hawke.

“I’ll meet you two inside,” Hawke said, handing Anders the car keys.

“You’ve been quiet,” Anders said, once Hawke had disappeared inside.

“I was thinking,” Fenris said, his eyes fixed on his knees.

“I admit I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Anders said. “Hawke said you’d agreed to attend, but I assumed you wouldn’t sign the consent form.”

“The spell you used.” Fenris looked up at him.

“My Panacea spell?”

“Yes.”

“It didn’t hurt, did it?”

“No, it—” Fenris grimaced and looked down again. “It worked.”

“Good!” Anders smiled. “I didn’t go back for my Masters for nothing.”

“I did not know I was experiencing pain,” Fenris said.

“Wait, what?!”

“It was gone,” Fenris said, his brows furrowing. “This ache.”

“Where?” Anders was trying to run through possible scenarios where Fenris would be in constant dull pain.

“The markings,” Fenris said, as if it should be obvious.

“The… tattoos?”

“They are lyrium. The experiments I was involved in were more involved than simple tattoos.”

“H-how?” Anders was twisting in the seat now, trying to get a better look. Fenris was still leaning back in the seat, not exactly forthcoming with information. “Do you mind if I look?”

Fenris held his breath for a long moment, and then sighed.

“Alright.”

Anders climbed between the two front seats, his long legs flopping awkwardly as he wriggled through the small space.

“You could have gone around,” Fenris said.

“I know,” Anders said, chuckling, “I don’t care too much if I look ridiculous. Now, can I see?”

Fenris pushed up his sleeve and held his arm out.

Anders frowned. They really weren’t tattoos.

“And they hurt?”

“They... ache,” Fenris said, “though I did not realize.”

“Maker,” Anders muttered. “I am surprised you even agreed to come.”

“I do not wish to be a bigot,” Fenris said, his voice softening as he looked away.

“I don’t think...ah, okay I used to think so. I apologize,” Anders said. “I don’t even think I can do anything to help with your...”

“Markings,” Fenris supplied. “I apologize as well,” Fenris said, turning back to Anders, and finding him surprisingly close.

“Oh,” Anders said, finding those green eyes uncomfortably close and wide.

“I was unfair in my judgment of you as a mage,” Fenris said. Anders could only look at his lips.

“It’s behind us now,” Anders said. “Thank you for coming. It...meant a lot to me.” He watched Fenris swallow, his eyes not leaving Anders’ face. Could Fenris feel the tension as well?

“I am grateful to Hawke for inviting me,” Fenris said. He grabbed Anders’ hand. He could feel Anders’ stiffness.

“I am not fragile,” Fenris said, rubbing a thumb over the back of Anders’ hand. “May I kiss you?”

“Me?”

“Is there another Anders in here?” Fenris raised one brow, smirking.

“Just the one, as far as I know,” Anders said. “And you may, though I might get feelings if you do.”

“Well, then we’ll have something in common if that is the case,” Fenris said, reaching up with his other hand to tangle his fingers in Anders’ hair and pull him closer to kiss him. Anders’ eyes were gold and unfocused when they pulled apart.

“Hawke’s going to wonder if we killed each other,” Anders murmured.

“Do you dislike the idea of … this?” Fenris asked.

“The opposite, actually,” Anders said. “I was just thinking my life was about to get boring now that I have my Masters. I think I could use some excitement to keep me on my toes.”

“And I’ve been thinking about getting a cat,” Fenris said, grinning.

“Now I know this can’t be real.”

“Need me to pinch you?”

“I think a kiss would suffice.”

[marzipanandminutiae]

you asked and I am desperate for an excuse to happy to deliver! presenting A Point-By-Point Takedown of This BS Doll Article By Some Lady Calling Herself A Professional Antiques Appraiser

so she starts off with a random story about how she was in a warehouse doing appraisals and a dresser started glowing, and when she looked in the dresser the source of the glow was an antique doll. this convinced her that dolls “carry the energy of wicked little girls.” but not all of them! anyway now she’s scared of dolls. but not really. but yes, really

...okay then

she then shares a doll one E.H. sent her photos of for appraisal

(Pretty! French fashion doll, I’d say maybe a Barrois or an early Bru, late 1860s.  You can tell by the distinctive “cobalt blue” eyes, that deep sapphire shade that only appears in the earliest era of FFs. Wig looks original, almost certainly mohair, and she has some sort of blouse or gown on that seems antique from the look of the lace. Could be a modern-made garment with antique materials. She’d probably fetch over $1,000 at auction unless there's some REALLY bad damage elsewhere on her person.)

EH’s one doll has a fabulous body that points to its age as 3rd quarter 19th century, because the body is made of fine-grained hand stitched leather. So what follows is a rough explanation of how you can determine if your doll is OLD, and that of course influences value – to an extent. The older dolls that are valuable are ALSO rare. And by the 1890’s dolls really were NOT rare.

Couple of issues with this. first of all, kid leather bodies can be seen on dolls as far back as the 1820s and as late in time as the early 1920s. the typical French fashion bodies were fairly distinctive,  but just saying that the material determines the age isn’t correct. or if it is, it’s not a very precise dating

also like...what even is the last sentence? dolls weren’t rare in the 1890s. dolls weren’t rare in the 1860s. dolls can be made out of literally anything, at any price point, and have been present in almost every culture in human history. dolls, as a broad category, have never been inherently rare

if she’s saying dolls from the 1890s are not considered rare by today’s standards...oh honey, meet my dear friend the Simon and Halbig 1159

(This doll is c. 1900. This doll fetched $1,800 at auction. What was that about age determining value, again?)

also maybe Google “German art character dolls.” friendly suggestion

Another fact about doll valuation is that the best antique dolls are not replicas of children, but are replicas of fabulously well-dressed young women.

this is so ridiculous I laughed out loud. there is no single “best” type of antique doll. some people will pay top dollar for Kewpies, others for 1880s child dolls, others still for first-issue Barbies. there are examples that are the rarest in their class of doll, sure, but no one class dominates across the board. it’s one thing to say a certain type is your favorite and another to say it’s the Best(TM) as a professional appraiser

My favorite fashionable young lady dolls, French or German, have leather bodies made of kid leather, stuffed with cork or sawdust. When you check the bodies, look for tight stitching at the joints, because, if the arms and legs are meant to move, they must be compress seamed. That makes sense because with the stuffing, a moved joint will pop open if not sewn correctly. Look for another overlay of leather at the joint called a gusset, which indicates greater value. Only the legs, the body, and the top of the arms and shoulders will be made of leather. The arms will be creamy porcelain or bisque, or sometimes a wood pulp combination composite material. You will notice the head and shoulder plate fits in a U-curve around the shoulders, which are leather and affixed expertly.

couple of things

1. not all FFs have the bisque lower arms- that’s a rarity point, not the norm. most with leather bodies have leather arms, too.

(This is my Jeanette. She has leather arms. Guess she’s not really a French fashion doll, then, despite her markings, face painting, face mold, body construction, eye type, and literally everything else about her!)

2. this describes most reproduction FFs out there, and many bodies used for German child dolls later on. so unless you’re planning to give people other things to look for, not entirely helpful

oh but wait! here are the other things to look for! let’s venture

The best French Fashion dolls wear the latest styles and little girls never played with them. Wealthy fashionistas in the 3rd quarter of the 19th century collected them.

remember, all that contemporary hand-wringing about little girls being corrupted by their fashionable “Paris dolls” was planted by Big Children(TM). #wakeupsheeple #thetruthisoutthere

These come in the finest white leather bodies with a nice bust line and quite wide hips, as we know as the style for the shapely ladies of the 1870 and 1880’s.

...who’s going to tell her leather bodies are definitely not the finest

can it be me

can it be me with my Charlotte, who has one of the rarest wooden body types that I’m still not sure how I got for such a (relative) steal

can it be us, perched on the end of her bed, at midnight

The hairstyles of real human hair will also be ‘period’, and some will have real gem jewelry. These weren’t meant as toys for a middle class little girl. These were expensive and can sell today for a couple thousand dollars in perfect shape. Surprisingly the leather has withstood time if well preserved.

as I said earlier, for French fashions, mohair (wool from an angora goat) was a WAY more common wig material than human hair. sometimes the hair will be down, not in a “period” style, because it was meant to be played with and styled by the child owner

real gem jewelry DID exist for these dolls, but most of what you’re likely to find is of rhinestones and gilt. that was much more common, as you’d expect

a middle-class little girl, if she was very lucky, might be able to count one middling or lower-range French lady among her dolls. they were expensive, but, well, middle-class girls often have one American Girl doll today, right? these dolls ranged in price from AG-level to “this was bought for a young princess and has that real gem jewelry mentioned above”

her price assessment is accurate for the majority of FFs, with outliers on either end ranging from “got really lucky with a seller who didn’t know what they had” to “a museum bought this doll because not even the richest collectors could afford to.” but...well, just keep that “couple of thousand dollars” figure in your mind for later

Let’s compare this leather-bodied doll with another cheaper type of body. In the late 19th century a ball-jointed body could be made of a wood pulp composition material, or even Papiermâché with little hinges of wood at the joints. Of course, since these bodies are wood based, they’re painted, and you’ll find the ghastly colors, as the once flesh tones turn to green or olive.

remember that doll from 1900 I showed you? 

she has a jointed composition body

$1,800

I do not feel any further comment is necessary at this juncture

(leather bodies came to be considered something of a budget option when the jointed compo bodies came into common use, because they couldn’t be posed and took less work/expense to make)

Finally, let’s think about the heads, if we dare.

oh bite me

Most heads are made of a porcelain type of material, and in this case, the porcelain is usually white with a painted ON skin tone. If the head is Bisque, bisque is material that will take a color or stain into itself and is often not painted nor glazed. The porcelain heads are more prized.

okay kids

porcelain is a type of very fine, translucent ceramic. it can be made matte, often called bisque, or shiny and glossy, often called china

(this stylish miss by Francois Gaultier is of matte bisque, the most common type of porcelain finish used for French fashion dolls. she’s also rocking the baby bangs look, and kudos to her for that)

(this early girl by Rohmer, on the other hand, has a glossy, shiny china head. note again the cobalt-blue eyes, another clue to her age. this is rarer than matte bisque for French fashions, though German glazed china dolls with molded hair could be quite commonplace depending on many factors like size, body type, hairstyle, etc.)

complicating everything further, a lot of older and even contemporary sources can use “bisque,” “porcelain,” and “china” interchangeably. context is key. but in modern terms, that’s sort of the breakdown

ding dong this blogger is wrong

You’ll see what I mean when I say dolls are sometimes too lifelike for my taste–or my nightmares. Notice the toes on EH’s doll. Pretty obsessive. The value is unknown until I find the maker of the doll, but a rough estimate might be $600, because the outfit seems original.

stitched toes are normal on kid-bodied French fashions in the most common size range (14″-17″). also

(The actual picture provided)

THIS gives you nightmares? really? I have Many Questions

also remember that valuation from earlier? a couple of thousand dollars? yeah. now she comes back with $600

depending on size, condition, and costume intricacy, I’ve seldom seen a doll of this type sell for less than $1,700 at auction (source: the online catalogue of past auctions at Theriault’s, the premier doll auction house in the U.S., and also personal experience)

and that’s a problem because the doll’s owner is PAYING for this “appraiser’s” services. they’re PAYING for an accurate idea of what they have and what it’s worth, whether for selling or insurance purposes. even if it’s just out of personal curiosity, you shouldn’t be swindled for a slew of misinformation and half-truths capped off by a wildly inaccurate dollar value

also the Creepy Doll stuff is massively unprofessional

Marzi out

[janeykath318]

Beautiful In White: A Shieldshock Soulmates Story

Darcy had been a bridesmaid six times already and still had a rainbow collection of colorful dresses in her closet, but for her seventh bridesmaid appearance, the bride was wearing the colorful dress, and the bridesmaids were all wearing white. Natasha Romanoff certainly was all about bucking convention and Darcy thought the deep red ball gown she wore was absolutely stunning. Apparently, Bucky agreed, judging by the way his eyes bugged out when she’d walked down the aisle toward him.

Darcy didn’t have any objections to white, but it was a very challenging color to wear and she was extremely careful during the reception to avoid any spills. Nevertheless, despite her best efforts, she ended up in the restroom, scrubbing furiously at a spot of something.

When she emerged, she had a wet spot on her dress and was more than ready to change, but the evening was still young. Heaving a sigh, she watched the couple enjoy their first dance as newlyweds, smiling at how relaxed Natasha looked in Bucky’s arms and how Bucky looked at her like she was the center of his universe.

“After today, I firmly believe that white is overrated,” she said quietly, to the tall figure who stood beside her. Steve’s gaze moved from Natasha to her and he gave her a very appreciative look, which caught her off guard. She’d known Steve for a while now, but she’d thought he thought of her as just another friend, the quirky scientist wrangler who showed him the ways of Instagram and Netflix.

“Well, I think it looks beautiful on you,” he said softly, making her blush. Steve Rogers didn’t just go around telling people they were pretty. Oh, no. If he offered such a compliment, it was definitely sincere.

“Ah, Steve, you’re so sweet,” she sighed, then suddenly jolted at a very intense tingly sensation in her left shoulder. She frantically rubbed it, wondering what the heck was going on, and noticed Steve rubbing his own neck and staring at her.

“What in the…..?” She began, trying to examine her shoulder and not being able to see clearly.

“Darcy, I think Your Words just appeared,” Steve said, sounding rather awestruck. “They’re on your shoulder blade.”

“Really? What do they say?” She asked, heart starting to pound.

“Um, they say what I just said to you: ‘Well, It looks beautiful on you.’”

Knowing Steve would never lie about something like this, Darcy gasped, turning around to face him and seeing a glimpse of her handwriting on his neck, where there definitely hasn’t been anything before. She lifted her hand and lightly traced over her declaration about white being overrated which had now permanently marked him as hers. Most of the time, Soulmarks appeared the first time two people ever spoke to each other, but in rare cases, they happened later, which was evidently what had occurred with Steve and herself.

Steve placed his hand on hers and she could have sworn she saw his tears in his eyes.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me, Lewis,” he said, cracking a watery smile.

She grinned back up at him. “Yup. But I must confess, I’m really happy it’s you. I was so bummed when Words didn’t appear when we first met.”

“Really?” Steve asked in amazement. “After I had just been handed my ass in front of you?”

Darcy giggled. “Especially then.”

She’d first met Steve when she was hanging out with Clint in the gym, watching the super soldiers sparring and trying not to openly lust. Bucky had sent Steve sprawling, wind knocked out of him and she’d instinctively run over to make sure he was okay.

Dazed blue eyes had looked up into hers and she’d blurted out, “Want me to beat him up for you, Cap?”

He’d looked at her startled, then glanced at his smirking best friend and grinned.

“I would pay good money to see that happen,” he’d gasped out. “The jerk’s getting cocky in his old age.”

And they’d been friends from the start.

Steve and Darcy were still staring at each other when Bucky and Natasha finished their dance and approached.

“Whoa. You having a moment, punk?” Bucky asked, clapping Steve on the shoulder.

“Looks like a very important moment,” Natasha agreed, pointing at Steve’s neck. Bucky took a quick looked, then grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

“I’ll say,” the groom declared. “Delayed soulmate marks. Congrats, guys.”

Bucky beamed with pride and Darcy couldn’t help but show off her own Words, wiggling her bare shoulder a bit.

“I must say, fate got it right,” Natasha said, giving Darcy a hug. “You two are perfect for each other. I suspected this would end up happening. I’m calling dibs on a bridesmaid spot.”

Darcy blushed and laughed.

“Okay,” she said giddily. “But I’m gonna make you wear blue, so just be prepared.”

“Worth it,” Natasha said, winking at Darcy before she dragged her husband away to give them space.

Darcy turned her attention back to her Soulmate, reaching up to place her hands on his very broad shoulders.

“You happy, Steve?” She asked.

“Very.” he murmured, hands wrapping around her waist. “I’ve been stuck on you for awhile, but thought destiny was against us. Guess it just needed time.”

“Let’s make up for it,” she suggested, giving him a very encouraging look.

Steve grinned and did his absolute best, making Darcy’s knees buckle from his kiss.

Happily for him, he did get to see Darcy wearing white again, and she looked just as beautiful, this time with a delicate veil over her dark hair.

[heyheydidjaknow]

I’m uploading this Friday at 12:10 am. Or, at least, that’s when I finished writing this. Yes, we’re still on the angst thing. It won’t last forever, but still.

Chapter 9

“How is she?”

Donatello sits down next to his brother on the couch. “Same as yesterday,” he sighs. “Comatose.”

“I still can’t believe it,” Raphael smirks. “That stupid bitch decided to total the fuckin—"

“Raphael,” he promises coolly, “I will personally make it my life’s goal to make sure you can never open your mouth again if you don’t shut up.”

He puts his hands up. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Will you two be quiet for a minute? I’m trying to listen.” Leonardo kneels in front of the television.

There is a new news story.

“They can’t arrest her, can they?” The tallest brother glances at the others.

“Nah.” Michelangelo is sprawled out on his portion of the couch, eyes dully focused on the screen. “They’ll side with her before someone from a street gang, ‘specially with those…” He trails off. “’ Sides,” he clears his throat, “any good public defense lawyer would call it self-defense, and there’s no way the police would convict a teenage girl of any degree of murder with the injuries she has; bad press.”

“Mikey,” Leo asks, “how come you know that and not how to multiply numbers by seven?”

“Because seven is a stupid number that was created just to make us all feel stupid.”

“Leo—”

“He’s right,” Raph agrees. “They won’t put her away for something like that.” He chuckles darkly. “Besides, there’s no more evidence.”

“After what happened with the neurologist?”

“Donnie,” Leo turns to look at him. “She’s going to be fine.”

He opens his mouth to argue, closes it.

” The perpetrator,” the news anchor reads, ” was found this morning after a panicked nine-one-one caller had seen the hand of the assailant hanging over a ledge. The corpse had, presumably, been flung away from the scene of the incident as a consequence of the explosion, miraculously landing on the roof of a nearby restaurant. The body has been identified as Fong Zhao, who was arrested on multiple charges of armed battery earlier this year. The police have refrained from offering Channel Six detailed information, but we have an anonymous source who claims that he and the gang he is supposedly involved in, locally referred to as the Purple Dragons, was also involved in the hijacking of a truck carrying a substance believed to be tear gas. The driver of the truck testified in favor of this statement earlier this evening. An investigation is currently ongoing regarding the involvement of the men in question, and we at Channel Six implore our viewers to come forward with any information you may have on the case or the supposed ringleader, the recently escaped Xever Montes. More on that later tonight. Up next, a local—”

Leonardo shuts off the television. “Well, there you go.” He stands up. “See? Didn’t even mention her name.”

Donatello breathes out a sigh of relief. “Good,” he nods after a moment. “That’s... good.” He cradles his head in his hand, his concerns hardly pacified by the report.

This, he cannot excuse. This is entirely a matter of his own negligence.

‘I should’ve noticed sooner, insisted to come with.’ He zones out, his brother starting a conversation about something he cannot bring himself to pay attention to. ‘How could she be that reckless? It’s Shredder for fuck’s sake; I should’ve at least noticed the body or something, anything.’ His fingers lace together as he stares a hole into the ground. ‘Even if I couldn’t have stopped her, I should’ve been there, if only after the fact.’ He runs his tongue along his teeth absentmindedly. ‘Some ninja I am. Some friend. Some—’

“So, I broke Y/N’s arms, right?”

His head snaps up. “You what?”

“There he is,” Raph chuckles. “Knew that’d get his attention.”

“Don’t make me go over there,” he glares. His face flushes in embarrassment.

Leonardo rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics. “As I was saying, it’s been pretty quiet, hasn’t it? Since the incident?”

“Now that you mention it,” Raph points out, “since the whole Leatherhead fiasco, I don’t think anything’s really happened. Ya know, besides the Kraang thing.” He crosses his arms behind his head, leaning back into the couch. “It’s been getting’ kinda boring If I’m bein’ honest.”

“It’s that desire to fight that’s going to get you killed,” Donatello informs him, staring at the television screen. “Saw what happened to her, right? Weren’t you just saying how stupid she was being?”

“Yeah, but that’s different.” He smiles sharply. “She’s got exactly no training. As much as you guys seem to have a thing for humility all of a sudden,” he waves his hand contemptuously, “the only reason she got hurt is that she was being stupid, so we’re pretty much undefeated, no thanks to Leo.”

He stands up, deciding against fighting him. “If you need me,” he says curtly, “I’ll be in my lab.”

“Watch it, Raph,” the eldest brother snaps.

“Why should I?” He throws his hands up. “Am I wrong?”

Mikey quietly grabs his comic off the floor, retreating to his room, presumably.

Donatello slides the door in between him and his brothers as he sits down at his desk.

You have been stuck in the hospital for about two weeks now.

‘Technically,’ he corrects himself as he pulls his laptop open, ‘it’s been three hundred fifty-seven hours, meaning it’s closer to fifteen days than two weeks. Why do I know that?’ He pulls up an image, uncapping a permanent marker and working on one of the more mindless parts of his latest project: reviving an incredibly battered map. He already has a frame for it once he is finished, but, knowing his brothers, the fading colors would likely be a point of contention if he did not at least make an effort to make it easier to read. Fortunately for him, it is not laminated. Unfortunately—depending on how you look at it— a lot of the finer details—the integral streets names in particular—are all irreparably smudged and, therefore, will have to be all rewritten by hand, turning a once twenty-minute job into at least a two-hour investment.

He tries to tune out the incessant arguing of his two older brothers as he focuses on making his minute handwriting legible despite the infuriatingly fat marker nib.

“You should have taken her offer for a pen when you had the chance,” he mumbles to himself.

His hand stops.

‘Would it be weird to go check on her again? Just to make sure she’s still alright? I mean,’ he goes back to work, ‘even if it were, how would she know?’

He shakes his head to clear it. ‘Stop that. You’re being a creep again.’

Over those two weeks, his distractedness has become more of a problem than it has in the past in reference to his work. He is hardly a stranger to having a thousand thoughts bouncing around his head at once, but where once a rapid stream of information was there is now an aggravatingly slow sludge. The origin of said mind sludge is not at all a mystery to him, which makes the whole thing infinitely more frustrating. ‘Frustrating? Depressing? Does it even matter?’

He rubs his eye absentmindedly with the heel of his palm as he strains to see what he is doing. The smell of the marker is corrosive in his nostrils. His hand shakes. He sets it down, wringing his hands as if to force them back into submission as he stares holes into the map. ‘This is not supposed to be challenging.’ He closes his eyes, the image of you lying on the ground, a bloody, skeletal figure shaking and begging for your life carved into the backs of his eyelids, a hideous scar.

He can not stop thinking about what you said the night before the incident. Something about being able to care for yourself.

What would you say to him now? He imagines that it would be something to remind him of how the accident is your fault, how he should not beat himself up over it, but all that does is convince him that he should have been faster to act or to respond or something. There had to have been something he, in his infinite wisdom, could have done. What else can he reason? That he is powerless? That he had no say in what happened that night of nights?

‘How come I can plan and build a combat vehicle out of alien technology and an old subway car and I can’t—’

He jumps at a loud banging at the door.

“Donnie!” He can hear Raphael’s wicked grin from behind the door. “Bank robbery! Let’s go!”

He sighs, capping the marker. His breakdown will have to wait.

“Comin’!”

--

The ringing in your ears is already annoying.

You have been awake for about five minutes. You have elected against moving for a plethora of reasons, but the ringing is a relatively large determining factor in your decision. You are, admittedly, not sure where you are until you hear the tell-tale incessant beeping you remember from your childhood. You do not open your eyes yet. You are incredibly drowsy for some reason.

‘Hospital?’

You sit up carefully, wincing as a numb pain permeates through your arms. You run your fingers over your face curiously, feeling for any perceived disfigurement as your eyes scan your surroundings. The small room you have been placed in seems standard; there are a couple of chairs under a window that makes up half of the wall, a television screen in a corner of the room, an inoffensive painting, and a small vase filled with some sort of white flowers.

You feel a protruding scar on the right side of your face. It traces from the bridge of your nose to about halfway across your cheekbone. As you bring your hands down to pull the hospital gown away from your body, you catch sight of your hands. Long, jagged cuts run vertically along the front of your hands, and as your eyes travel up your arms, you notice fewer, shorter scars along the insides of your forearms. You swallow, pulling the cloth away from your body to see long scratches running from your thighs to under your ribcage. You pull the blanket off to find that one of your legs is encased in a white cast.

You blink. ‘What stupid thing did I do?’

You lay back down, fingers absentmindedly tracing the scars. ‘I must have been out for a bit.’ You push the hair out of your face, noting how oddly shaky your hands are as you try to focus on what had happened. ‘Why wouldn’t my folks be here? They wouldn’t ditch me in a hospital, would they?’ You hold them out in front of you, palms to the ceiling. ‘I don’t look old or anything. My nails aren’t much longer than they were before, so I can’t have been out for that long.’

Your eyebrows furrow. ‘Parents…’ You swallow. ‘Oh, right. The fire.’ Your eyes go out of focus. ‘Dead. I was, too, until recently.’ You put your arms down. ‘I’m hungry. Where am I?’ You close your eyes. ‘New York. East coast. How far is the East Coast from the West Coast? I should call her so she knows I’m—no, she’s dead.’

“All dead and gone,” you mumble the tune to yourself.

You cover your face. ‘Focus. What happened?’ You recall what you think is a church. ‘Turtles. Turtle. Oh, TMNT. Where are people? Focus.’ You yank at a piece of your hair, mumbling to yourself as you try to run through the memory again.

The image of that man’s body takes your breath away.

You shut your eyes tighter. ‘Right. Car. Glass. Glass would be a good candy. Could you make glass out of sugar? Isn’t that what a lollipop is?’ You hug yourself tightly, careful of the IV as you roll onto your side towards it. ‘I killed someone. Someones. That’s not a word. Gasoline smells bad.’ You feel tears prick at your eyes. ‘I deserve to die for that. There has to have been an easier way to do that. I deserve to burn again. That explosion was so prettily animated in that episode. I can’t breathe.’

You curl your legs up towards you, using the arm not connected to the IV to hook behind your knees. You bury your head in your shoulder as you force your breathing to slow. ‘I miss her. Where is he? They’re dead and you killed them, you heartless bitch.’

You feel a sob rise in your throat. You swallow it back. ‘Stop being a pussy.’ You hear yourself start to count softly. ‘They’re all dead and gone. You’re on your own here, so get a grip.’ You grip the blanket. ‘After all, who are you going to turn to? The guys who already risk their lives every day? Or maybe Splinter, who will probably tell you some bullshit about letting your pain go?’

‘That’s not fair,’ you argue with yourself. ‘You can turn to Murakami. Casey might be willing to help.’

‘Because Casey’s known for his reliability and Murakami would want to deal with your stupid emotional problems.’

“Twenty-three,” you whisper, keeping your voice even. “Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…’

You pull yourself back up, bringing your knee to your chest as you wipe any tears that may have leaked out with the back of your hand.

You do not have to wait long until someone comes in to check on you, a taller gentleman with sharp features and sunken eyes behind curly black hair. He introduces himself as Nurse McGrath, gives you a run down of the dizzying number of injuries you had suffered in the accident, what they had done to fix the problem, and starts to discuss what would become of you now.

“The doctor predicts that you’ll be able to remove your cast in approximately six weeks, and that you will regain your fine-motor skills fully in eight.” He is obviously half asleep, but you can hardly blame him; the clock on the wall reads that it is about three in the morning. “The symptoms from the whiplash should completely fade in about three months. If you would be open, there are medications we can prescribe to help with the pain.”

You smile. “Thank you, sir, but I’d rather not.” You are sincerely concerned what might happen if you start taking any sort of medication right now, considering your mental health.

“I should probably warn you in advance that the police might ask you to come in to identify the guys who kidnapped you.”

You blink, confused. “How do they know I was kidnapped?”

“Anonymous tip, according to the news.” He scratches something into some form or another. “I dunno the specifics, but nobody thinks they’re gonna charge you with anything, ‘specially since the driver was from that street gang.”

You nod. “Gotcha.” You purse your lips. “What day is it?”

“Twenty-fourth, now.”

You sigh. “Well,” you shrug, ignoring the pain it causes, “at least I’m not dead.”

“At least.” He caps his pen. “Technically, you’re free to leave, but the doc thinks it’s a good idea to stay overnight. Your insurance provider has your medical bills covered, so you’re good for it.”

“Honestly? I’m surprised I don’t feel weaker.” You smile. “I’m more than happy to head home tonight, if that makes most sense.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t stay.” He starts heading out of your room. “Your cellphone is locked up. I’m guessing you want it?”

You nod eagerly, realizing quickly that makes the ringing worse.

“I’ll bring it right back, then.”

You refrain from touching it until he leaves.

It looks as if it was put in a blender, but you find it does still turn on. A problem quickly arises: your hands cannot hold the phone. You set it down on the mattress, each movement taking a ridiculous amount of time to coordinate as you type like someone who has never used a phone before. ‘Fine motor skills. Right.’ You type out a message after approximately too long that tells Donnie that you are out of the hospital and heading home.

You check out of the hospital at approximately four-thirteen. The trip home is a straight line of a walk that takes you approximately twenty minutes. Getting in through the door with a walker is a bit of a challenge, but it works out well enough.

You lock the door and windows when you get home, shutting your phone off as you crawl into bed.

You let out a low groan as your head punishes you for your heinous crime of moving. You had realized ten minutes into your walk that you were not at all physically strong enough to walk that long, and you already hate yourself for it, among other reasons. As you crawl into bed, ignoring your body’s protest, you still stand by your decision to not take any medication, especially now.

You feel as though you are being suffocated as you cling onto your pillow, pressing your face into it as you cry silently, the ringing in your ears only getting louder in the silence of your apartment.

‘I feel sick.’

You remember your first night here. You remember the feeling it had caused you, the numb ache of loss as you submitted to the situation you had found yourself in. It feels like an eternity ago, now. You know, logically, it cannot have been more than two months since you got here.

You had decided against taking a cab back home. You had the cash, and you still do, in your bloodstained pocket. You saw many as you walked home, and you had turned a blind eye to them all.

You feel yourself trembling again. You remember the first night you had slept on your own here, the nightmares you swore were the product of a mind much more sadistic than yours ever was. You remember, too, the nightmares you had after Bradford, the way that, for the first time in your life since you were five years old you woke up drenched in sweat and crying for your mother.

What possible dream could come from this?

You reach a hand to the nightstand, hovering over your cellphone as you consider your next action.

Slowly, you retract it, letting it rest next to you. ‘It’s four. He’s not awake.’ You do not have the energy to get up to grab the bottle of sleeping pills from your bathroom.

‘I don’t want to sleep. I can’t take another nightmare.’ You rest your cheek on the pillow, forcing your eyes shut. ‘Mare. Why is it called a nightmare? Are mares truly that terrifying?’

“One,” you whisper. “Two. Three.”

Table of Contents

Chapter 8

Chapter 10

[trillian-anders]

the harlot - i

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: descriptive violence, angst, fluff, smut, slow burn

word count: 4.2k

description: harlots inspired au;

one last run before shipping off steve rogers is brought to a brothel to love a woman in case of his untimely demise at war. he meets the reader, young and fresh, not yet tainted by the world they’d been born into. a torrid one night love affair that costs their mother greatly. a promise and years later they meet again, the reader resentful and distrustful. the charming, now captain rogers, seems as captivated in reader as ever. but it’s never meant to be. and you both know that.

The wiles of women. They were a trap for men, the bawdy, the harlots and succubi that taint husbands and sons with powdered skin and lips red as blood as if pricked on a rose’s thorns. The pink blush of their cheeks, draped fabric and perfectly coiffed white wigs. Their ribs crushed under the ties of a corset leaving bruises on their belly and hips. Small tight shoes that pinch their toes and a shiny penny shoved against the entrance of their womb to prevent pregnancy.

You could be one of those. You had potential. The kept woman of bureaucrats and bankers. In a home paid for them by the men who made the world turn.

“A beautiful girl you are.” Men would say. Their fingers tilting your chin up to gaze upon the craft of your Mother. They always called you beautiful. When you were a child and free, running through the streets in your patched skirt and ruddy knees. The grab of a man’s hand interrupted by your Pa.

A brawl or two for your protection, your Pa’s fists bloody and raw cracked on the jaw of a man trying to fondle his child in the street. Otherwise left alone. He wasn’t your birth father. The man who spewed you into your Ma’s belly you’d not a clue of. With this profession you can never be sure. Your Pa was a man who loves your Ma. They had a little boy together and they run the house that women sell their sex from.

The house you live in and have lived your entire life.

The only gain for hope in your Mother’s case, was to sell you to someone who would give you a good life. Better than a whore on the street, but not as good as a wife with a man to love and a man who loves you.

“You’ll never want for anything,” Your Mother would say, curling your hair around her fingers as she painted your lips, a soft pink. “You’ll be taken care of.” Pinching your cheeks for color. “And a man will not have control over what you own.”

You’d be kept on a salary. Like an employee in a home as part of the package. The goal of having a sweet little place in high society where you’d attend parties and drink and charm your way about in fine silks and a coy smile. One your Ma had you practice in the mirror. A gaze to bewitch me and have them chase your skirt all about town.

Your image was perfection. Hair in perfect curls and the flush of your skin against power pink fabric and a tightly bound corset, breasts pushed oh so innocently up. A tease for the body that they would have to pay to see.

Men love a blushing virgin.

A favorite you were. Taught piano, how to read and write. You learned card games and how to flirt with a glass of wine, your lips meeting the rim and peering up through your lashes at men who were drooling and waiting for their turn upstairs.

You played piano with a coy eye while the girls worked the room at parties. Watching a hand slip up a skirt, a drag into the dark hallway and the creaks of their beds through the floor.

And tonight was no different.

“Your bid is going soon.” Your Ma flit around the room, pulling a beautiful silk lavender gown and laying it before you, circling behind to tighten your corset. A free breath gone from your lungs, hands clutching the bed post as your breasts spilled upwards and your waist was synched tight. The wraps loosened on your curls, pinned in a bow away from your face. Innocent and sweet. A heavily jeweled necklace on your throat. A tight nude colored shoe and the dress was laid over your skin, soft and barely worn. “It’s a special occasion.” She reasoned.

You were to put on a face, shy and sweet, endearing. A group of men coming to the house for a party, special, and paid in advance. Men who would hold great standing off fighting in the King’s army. Men who would one day be those very men who make the world turn. Generals and servicemen alike. “A fine fit, I would say.” Bids for the sweet honey pot between your thighs.

You’d had offers when you were young as ten. But your Ma wouldn’t. “You’ll be better than I was.” Better than a young girl sold off and meant to please the perverts that prey on the young. “You’re worth more than that my sweet girl.” Her fingers would brush your cheek with affection. The love she felt for you palpable. The favoritism in her own blood opulent. How many pounds would be enough to sell your flesh for the very first time?

You were to be shy and sweet. Stick by her side as men approached and aimed to charm you upstairs. You watched as girls you knew and trusted, the ones you read the paper to and ones you’ve aided with pregnancy and illness, these girls nothing more than a hole to find solace in for the night. A night before leaving to risk their lives on some expedition for the King’s need for global power.

Some were handsome, charming, and one with a chipped tooth made you blush. But one by one they disappeared up the stairs and out of sight. Raucous moans and the slamming of headboards. You catch a thief in the kitchen.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” A boy, or a man, his cap held in his hands as he worried the brim. He looks smart with his blonde hair back and tied neatly in a black bow at the nape of his neck. Not a mark on his uniform, the jacket open to his shirt underneath. He seems startled by you. His mouth parts, lips pink and a blush on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I—” He stands, “I uhm…” His hand reveals a fuzzy peach, missing a bite. It was the shine on his lips. You were unsure of what to do. This was the first time in your life that you had been truly alone with a man.

“You haven’t found your way upstairs.” A soldier who hadn’t found his way into the cunny of a girl before leaving tomorrow. “Isn’t that the point of even being here?”

“It wasn’t my choice, I uh—” He was naïve, it was sweet. Nervous. “I don’t know what I’m doing here if I’m honest.” You worry your bottom lip. In the light of the fire you could see how flushed he was, his fingers digging into the peach enough for the juice to run over his fingertips.

“Most men come here for sex.” To put it bluntly, he looks down at his shoes, scuffs them on the floor, then back at you. Your head tilted to the side, “Are you a virgin?” The way his mouth parts, his eyes widening. The answer was yes. You smile, soft and sweet. “Me too.” Leaving the doorway, you settle yourself at the kitchen table. “I’m Y/N.” The scoot of the chair back across from you as he sinks into the seat.

“I’m Steve.”

…

The fake moans. It’s what really gets him. The back arching, toe curling, screams. The vice of your heat on his cock. A familiar and rough tug and pull of your skin. His hands finding your flesh, gripping at whatever hold he could get. “You’re a jewel, a proper pearl among the sea of shit that is in my life.”

Alexander Pierce was a King’s man. Older with a wife who couldn’t be bothered and children older than you. He paid a pretty penny for your maidenhood. Your coy smile the charm you’d give his guests. He paid you well. Just what your Ma wanted. The mistress of a man with more money than you could ever spend in this lifetime.

Your life had changed from where it had been by such leaps and bounds that you couldn’t help but be grateful. Where people could see anyway. You were brought fabrics from China, intricate designed cloth from Spain. A row of shoes in your closet in each color you could possibly imagine. Dresses lavishly adorned with jewels. Pearls and rubies. Ribbon and lace.

“Tonight.” His fingers gripping your hair as his hips viciously slap against yours, “You will be proper and charming.” A grunt, “And you will make my guests feel welcome, no matter what I ask you to do,” The harsh rip of your hair, “You will do as I say.” Your scalp would be sore, ache as you pin your hair back to fit under the powdered wig you’d be wearing for the night. Your eyes more vacant than ever. Watery and tired.

You needed a drink.

You hardly ever got to see your Ma anymore. On occasion she would be allowed to call on you. If your schedule coordinated, she would see you out on your daily stroll, but she’d been wrong. Your contract didn’t give you freedom. It didn’t give you power. It didn’t give you control. It kept you wedged under Pierce’s heel. A pretty little ornament he would fuck while you would prey for his seed not to take root.

You wondered if it would have been better to be back home. Where your Ma and Pa were with Peter, your brother who must almost be a man by now. Ten years is a long time.

You bring the façade of life back to your eyes as he meets you in the mirror. His face powdered, but breeches still open. A smirk of satisfaction on his lips as he comes to brush down your cheek. “The pink lipstick.” A demand. “And the blue dress.” His new favorite. He was getting reminiscent lately. Of the night he first had you. In a blue dress just like it.

It would be in the evening, buzzing with wine that you’d fall into old memories. As you watch the other girls bought for the evening flit about while you watched from afar like their own bawd. An artifact is what you became. A whore only touched by one.

…

“Did you always want to fight for your country?” You asked him. The blushing boy, who really was not yet a man. He was too kind for this place. In that instant in the kitchen of your Ma’s home you wondered what life would be like in that moment. If you’d met this son of a wealthy aristocrat as the daughter of one. How he would court you and beg for your hand.

Would he write you poetry? Recite it to you as you walked about in the garden with your chaperone? Would he be asking your father for your hand? And what of the wedding? Would it be like you read in your books on romance and love?

“It’s my obligation,” He shakes his head, picking at the peach pit laid between you. “My father says it will perhaps give me more courage and strength.” While tall, he was thin and gangly. Nervous and unsure. “And on my return I will take over for my family,” A shrug, “Start one of my own perhaps.” It’s to be expected.

“In the country?” You ask him. He sung you a melody of his family’s country estate. The lush foliage and homey cottage that he’d spent most of his youth in, only brought to the city for schooling and now, his stint in the military. “It sounds beautiful.” But not meant for you. Not as bad as you would want it.

“Have you ever been to the country?” You step away to pour more wine, for both you and him. A gentle buzz.

“No.” You laugh, “I’ve never been anywhere outside of London.” You sip from your cup.

“Would you like to?” He’s so naïve and as you look at him incredulously, he seems confused.

“That’s not exactly in the cards for me Steve.” The chair creaks beneath you as you sit back down. His fingers close to brushing yours on the table. You watch him think for a moment, unanswering.

“If you could do anything,” He starts, “If you could be anyone and live any life... what would you do? Who would you be?” His fingers brush yours, a heat on your cheeks.

“I—” You shake your head, “I don’t know.” You’d imagined things of course. As you just did in an alternative life where you would be the wife of a wealthy man in a house you’d get to make yours. But it was never really like that right? A woman couldn’t own property. Even the use of her body was sold in different ways. Sometimes for silks, sometimes for love. Or the imitation of it.

“You’d never thought of it?” The tip of his finger brushed against your skin. He seemed to remember himself and pulled his hands back. “You’d never thought about if you’d been dealt a better hand?” You make the move, capturing his hand in yours. His skin smooth and soft. The tale of a boy who’d never had to do hard work in his life.

“You’d never thought about if you’d been dealt a worse one?” Your thumb smoothed over the back of his hand. He gives you a sad smile.

“You deserve better than this.” A sad laugh,

“You don’t know anything about me.” He leans forward, a soft squeeze on your hand. He licks his lips before saying,

“But I want to.” His eyes searching yours, “I want to know everything about you.”

…

“Lay off the drink.” A harsh squeeze to your side. A tug on your skirt as Pierce’s hot breath reaches your ear. “I can’t have you embarrass me as a lush.” His hand meeting the back of your neck and gripping hard. “Go and socialize.” A harsh push on the back of your neck and forcing you from the corner where you’d buried yourself in your wine.

So you made your rounds. A smile on your face and a drink partially empty in your hand that you never replenished. Putting on a show for the man you knew staring you down from across the room while you charmed his guests.

Men he worked with whose hands wandered, but never strayed too far lest they’d face the wrath of your jealous master. A playful jibe and banter that was practiced and well meaning, never too much of an overstep. Always superficial and always on the surface. Waiting to be called on by your master to appease whomever he was trying to impress.

Working your rounds back to him, charming and entertaining he lay his hand out, two fingers crooking at you. You take his hand as he drags you from the sitting room and out back, girls milling about with men, walking around the gardens and a small group smoking a cigar in the courtyard. A group of men seemingly just arrived, Pierce needing a fashionable jewel on his arm to show a display of his status.

You could have died. Right then and there as you met the gaze you’d dreamt about for nearly a decade. He’d changed, but you assume, so did you. That tall and lanky boy, you could still taste the peach on his lips. Sweet and sticky fingers, unsure and shaking. His shoulders broad and chest muscled, his face full. Your breath caught as his tongue wet his lips, still pink and full. Just as it had been before when you had tugged it between your teeth.  

“Captain Rogers,” Pierce’s hand out to shake, “Glad to see you healthy and back from the front.” A smile, the way he smiled. Side of his mouth endearing. It made your legs shake.

“Glad to be back.” The shake was firm, you could tell, “And who might this enchantress be?” Pierce’s feathers standing tall, a stiff peacock of pride. Steve. His hand grasps yours. Rough and weathered. A kiss to the back of your hand.

“Y/N Parker.” Pierce’s hand met the back of your neck, “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Parkers.”

…

He tasted of the peach he’d stolen. His lips soft and wet against yours. The sweet stickiness of it making you dizzy. It started soft. Ever so soft. Your elbows on the table as you leaned over towards him and met his lips once, twice, and then when his fingers cupped your cheek they melded together and took the breath from your lungs.

Your hand gripped his tightly, dragging him from the table and slipped to the room behind the stairs. Your room.

“Steve.” You sigh, his kiss making your brain swim in your thoughts, you shouldn’t be doing this. “She’s taking bids for me.” Your forehead against his as your back meets the door. “For my virginity.” His brow pulled in concern, his hands cup your jaw, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “But I want to choose.” You watch him swallow, his voice unsure and shaking,

“Are you sure about this?” You weren’t, you were sure your Ma would be furious, but maybe she wouldn’t need to know. Maybe she wouldn’t find out.

“Are you?” His lips meet yours again, gentle, slow and when you part, you turn, the buttons on your back nervously plucked from their holes. The heavy fabric shifted off your body to fall down off your hips. His hands rest on the stiff corset around your waist as you turn back to face him, shifting his jacket off and tossing it to the floor. Fingers plucking at his breeches as his fingers find the ribbon holding your corset together and slipping it loose.

You’re finally able to really breathe as your hands work on the laces, the bones of the corset peeling from your skin as you’re left in your shift.

Steve’s hands shake as his breeches fall to the floor. His boots tossed off and he’s left in his drawers standing across from you in the lamp light. You could see the hard length of him pressing against the fabric and it makes you shiver. A step towards the bed, his hands found your hips again, capturing your lips as his hands massaged the tender skin, your slip falling from your body to pool on the floor.

He fell to his knees before you, and you’d never felt so powerful. His lips pressing to the red markings on your belly. A soothe for the dig and restriction of your breath for the sake of beauty. A silent worship. His eyes on yours as his lips make their way to your sternum pressing between your breasts. A gentle lead to the bed. His drawers gone and a heat growing between your thighs at the sight of his firm pink cock pointed up at his belly button against a dark blond patch of hair.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks again, finding his place between your thighs. The length of him pressed against your wet cunt. You part your thighs wider, knees cradling his sides as you pressed your lips to his in assurance. Your hand dipping between your bodies to grab him, hot in your hand, and press the tip of him to your entrance.

“I’m sure.” A slow thrust of his hips. It was a strange sensation, different from the curious exploration of your fingers. A mutual gasp as he seats himself fully, a burning stretch. Your hands gripping his shoulders. He dips his mouth down to yours, a soft comforting kiss. A gasp as his hips move back to thrust again.

“Are you okay?” It wasn’t what you expected. Not in the least. He came quickly, as virgins do and he brought his lips to yours before cleaning the cum from your thighs. It wasn’t some big miraculous moment. And you didn’t feel horribly changed by it, “I’m sorry,” He whispers next to you. You lay facing him in the sheets. “I know sex isn’t terribly wonderful for women… at least not the first time. My friend… James, he says… that it takes time and practice to have sex be enjoyable for a woman.”

“Is that why you came here?” His lips pressed to the inside of your wrist.

“I didn’t want to come here at all, honestly.” His fingers were sticky as one traced your bottom lip, “But I’m happy I did.” He sighs, pulling you closer to him, the heat of his body warming you from the chill of the room. “I wish I could take you away from here.” He whispers against your lips, “I wish I could be yours, and you mine.”

…

Steve lets out a laugh, nervous, “I may have heard word of them.” Peirce’s hand tightened on your neck, a silent order to not speak unless spoken to.

“This is Mary Parker’s only daughter, a rare jem and the crown jewel to be held above all.” His other hand tilting your chin towards him. Steve’s face betrays no emotion, shifting into a smile as Peirce meets his eyes again.

“Simply stunning.” Steve agrees, making your heart race.

It’d been so long you didn’t know what to do or say. So you did nothing. And stupid with drink you distanced yourself from him almost immediately. But his eyes you could still feel on you as you walked with Pierce so he could introduce you to a General, and a man named Quill who just came into property in the states.

More wine. And maybe he won’t be able to perform later. The kitchen familiar and dark, a bottle plucked from the counter to refill his glass. The hulking figure in the doorway giving you pause. Your breath catches in your throat. Wine bottle grasped in both hands. He looks as though he’s searching for the words to say, his mouth parted and eyes looking upon you with the boyish innocence they had before.

It bubbled from your throat first, “You never came back for me.” An accusation that comes out more aggressive than you meant it to be. He steps into the light and you take him in tip to toe.

Maybe his father was right to send him off to war. The thin lanky boy that left you came back a broad shouldered and well-shaped man. But it was still him in the way he looked down at his shoes and then back at you. Like he had ten years prior. Bashful. Ashamed.

“I hadn’t been able to come back for anything until now.” You shake your head, sighing and go to move around him,

“Maybe you shouldn’t have come back at all.” His hand shoots out to grab your arm as you pass and you flinch from the action. A stunned reflex he lets go, immediately.

“Y/N—” The anger was bubbling up. Maybe from the wine, maybe from where you’d buried it long ago, but you couldn’t help it.

“My Master needs me.” Leaving him in the doorway and walking back to Pierce whose relaxed posture made you aware that he was almost there. Drunk enough to stumble into his own bed whereas you could sleep alone in yours. A rare blessing in this life.

…

“When I get back from war,” A whisper between your thighs, “I’ll come back for you.” The flat of his tongue in your cunt. A soft whimpered moan of sensation not before felt by you. Those measured means towards ecstasy. His fingers laced in yours as he worked to please you. The boy who’d just became a man, who’d just made you a woman.

As you meet your end he presses those sweet pink lips up your body, to meet your mouth, “Do you promise you’ll come back for me?” His fingers tracing your cheeks, eyes betraying love.

“I promise.” You’d been naïve. Of course, you’d been naïve. When your Ma had come to wake you the next morning and found you with that boy in bed, you’d been flogged for it. A weeping,

“How could you do this?” Her fingers hard on your chin. A curse at Steve, “You will tell no one of this.” And the blushing bumbling boy said,

“I would never.” He hadn’t even been gone a week when Pierce put his bid in for you. Nothing to turn your nose up at. A startling 400 pounds a year salary. One hundred up front. And a pension of such should he tire of you. If he ever tired of you. That first night as you lay under him you thought of your soldier boy, off to war with the promise of a return.

It was in your dreams and hopes, your prayers at night. But as each year passed it grew more and more distant in your mind. Your soldier boy wasn’t returning for you.

And you’d felt a fool.

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Final Act - Liam Dunbar x Reader

(gif credit)

Summary: It’s graduation day for Liam and y/n. They’re going to different schools on opposite sides of the country and she still hasn’t confessed her true feelings for him.

Word Count: 1816

Warnings: angst, fluff, cursing

a/n: hi again! here’s my first liam fic, let me know what you think! also, feel free to send me a message for requests or to be added to my taglist :)

masterlist

y/n blew out a long breath, smoothing out her maroon graduation gown as she stood in front of her bedroom mirror. She adjusted the cap on her head, a bittersweet smile gracing her face. So this is it, she said quietly to herself. The drive to the school was quiet, not that she expected anything different. y/n’s parents were almost always too busy with work to pay attention, nonetheless talk to her, unless they noticed a B instead of an A on a report card. She was honestly surprised they took the time out of their schedule to come to her graduation, but she had still mentally prepared herself for one or both of them getting a work related call in the middle of the ceremony and leaving without saying anything.

Growing up, y/n and her parents moved around a lot for their jobs, so it was hard for her to maintain any lasting friendships. When she finally got to high school, her parents decided to stay in one place at least until she graduated. Her freshman year she joined the lacrosse team, deciding to put her years of playing on teams for a max of a few months at a time and playing alone as best she could to good use. Despite her being one of the better players on the team, she ended up lumped in with the underdogs because she was a freshman and a girl. That’s how she met Scott and Stiles, who were sophomores at the time. They soon were like big brothers to her and the trio became inseparable. 

y/n hadn’t been out in the woods the night Scott was bitten, but she was the first person that Stiles came to once he started connecting the dots. She found herself alongside the boys for each supernatural disaster from that point forward and ironically enough y/n and Stiles, both very human, became the first members of Scott’s pack. She quickly became friends with each new member of the pack, Liam especially. They talked to each other about pretty much everything and spent more time with each other than they did with the rest of the pack until Hayden came along. If the pack hadn’t known before, they definitely knew the moment that Liam started spending almost all his time with Hayden that y/n had feelings for him. She was down in the dumps for the first few weeks but was able to manage her feelings a bit better once she started hanging out with Kira, Lydia, and Malia. They’d always been friendly and she found that it was nice to have some close girl friends for a change.

“y/n, we all know you like him. It’s a little painfully obvious,” Lydia pointed out with a sympathetic smile one night when they were having a sleepover at the red head’s house before the three older girls left for college.

“Yeah, just ask him out already,” Malia agreed around a mouthful of chips. Kira, the more understanding one of y/n’s friends, rested her hand over y/n’s.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Kira consoled and was quickly met by glares from Malia and Lydia.

“Come on, you’ve been pining after him since your sophomore year,” Lydia said.

“-aaaaanndd he’s now a single pringle since Hayden dumped him,” Malia added. y/n rolled her eyes but deep down knew they were right. She did like Liam, a lot if she was being honest.

“It’s not worth risking our friendship for,” y/n sighed quietly. Malia murmured “bullshit” under her breath, Kira offered y/n a sad smile, and Lydia simply hummed as she moved to set up the movie.

As luck would have it, y/n ended up sitting next to Liam for the graduation ceremony, she half expected it though since they had the same last initial. She waved to her found family when she spotted Malia, Kira, and Scott in the audience with Mama McCall, as y/n affectionately called her. If she was being completely honest, the ceremony was rather boring. The principal and different school personnel gave speeches, along with the valedictorian and a random alumni. Once it came time for students to walk across the stage and shake hands, everything seemed like a blur to y/n. So this is it, she repeated her words from earlier in her head. She hadn’t even realized that the people next to her had gotten up to line up at the edge of the stage until Liam lightly shook her shoulder. 

“y/n,” he spoke into her ear. “y/n, it’s time.” Still in a daze, she managed to make her way to the edge of the stage without breaking an ankle in her heels. As she got closer and closer with each name called, she began to have flashbacks of the last four years, particularly the moments she had spent with the pack and the moments she had spent with Liam. Liam, the boy that she might even love but who had no clue that she wanted them to be anything other than friends. It made y/n want to scream sometimes, but she had somewhat accepted the fact that there wasn’t much that she could do about it now. At the end of the summer she’d be headed off to Boston to attend classes at Harvard and Liam would be staying in state, going to UCLA.

She was about to reach back and hold his hand but she stopped herself. Her eyes began to water as she watched the last three people in front of her start to walk across the stage. Fuck it, she thought, and she whipped around to wrap him in a bone-crushing hug as she lightly sniffled into his neck. Liam paused for a moment, shocked by her sudden action before he wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her close.

“y/n y/m/n y/l/n,” called the senior administrator. y/n pulled away from Liam, offering him a small, sad smile as she began to turn around. He watched as she walked across the stage, beautiful as ever, even with tears in her eyes. When it came time for him to walk across the stage he wasn’t as concerned about shaking hands and picking up his diploma as he was about getting back to y/n’s side. He sat down in his seat soon after and looked towards y/n, whose tears had since dried. She was staring straight ahead, trying to ignore the fact that this was it for them. Sure, they were in the pack together and would see each other over school breaks, but it was never going to be the way it was. 

“Hey,” he whispered in her ear, barely heard over the applause and cheers for the students still walking across the stage. She hummed quietly in response so he knew she had heard him. “Are you okay?” he asked sincerely. y/n thought about lying for a moment, but she knew he’d be able to tell.

“No, not really,” she murmured, quietly enough that he probably wouldn’t have heard her had it not been for his supernatural senses. Liam decided it was better to let the topic rest, at least for the rest of the ceremony. The remaining names were called and the principal stood in front of the podium once again.

“Family and friends, I now introduce to you the class of 2018,” the older man announced . The students threw their caps in the air and began cheering. y/n hesitated for a moment before Liam squeezed her hand in his own and gave her a reassuring nod. She gave him a watery smile before plucking the cap off her head, careful not to mess up her styled hair, before they tossed their caps in the air in unison. She let out a bit of a laugh as she dodged a few falling caps before grabbing her own. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Liam asked, pulling up her chin to look at him as other students began to clear out and meet their families.

“I just can’t believe it’s over,” y/n admitted. “Not just high school though,” she followed up as she cleared her throat. He raised a brow in confusion and urged her on with a nudge. “I mean, we’re not going to be together anymore. The rest of the pack is already in college and has moved away, sometimes it feels like we’ve lost them. Now I’m losing you too,” her voice broke towards the end. Liam pulled her into a hug and ducked down to whisper into her ear.

“You’re never going to lose me, no matter what happens,” he assured. y/n smiled into his shoulder but shook her head.

“You don’t get it,” y/n let out a deep breath. Now or never, I guess. She pulled away from him and held both of his hands as she looked him in the eye. “I’ve- I’ve liked you since you got here. God, I didn’t realize it until we’d spent the better part of a year hanging out. And then- then when you got with Hayden, I realized that I love you,” she sucked in a breath and waited for his reaction as she searched his face. Liam wore a blank look for a moment. Fuck, I just screwed up the best thing that I’ve ever known. She opened her mouth again, preparing to tell him to pretend she’d never said anything, when he lunged forward and brought her in for a deep kiss. One of his hands held the back of her neck gently while the other hand was placed on her waist, pulling her closer to him. She squeaked in surprise at first, her eyes wide, before she relaxed into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck. The pair hesitated to pull apart, only doing so once their lungs were screaming for oxygen.

“Did that just-” y/n began, out of breath.

“Yeah, it did,” Liam replied as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

“I told you so!” Malia’s shout could be heard throughout the entire room. Liam and y/n looked towards their friends sitting in the bleachers and blushed. Kira was holding out a big thumbs up for y/n with a wide grin on her face, Scott was clapping, and Melissa was shaking her head with a smile at the kids’ antics. y/n ducked her head into Liam’s shoulder and groaned as he chuckled and rested his chin on top of her head. When she pulled away he leaned forward and pressed a sweep kiss to her lips.

“I love you too,” he murmured against her lips as his icy blue eyes gazed into hers.

taglist: @linkpk88​ 

[lesbianzhane]

gigi goode does NOT simp (crygi)

gigi goode is a popular instagram designer and model. her friend, jan, constantly posts photos with a pretty girl that gigi falls head over heels for. when nicky throws a party, and that pretty girl just so happens to be there with jan, gigi knows that her friend was pulling out some sort of scheme. 

ao3 link!

Gigi never liked to call herself an ‘influencer’. The word seemed far too snobby, and she really didn’t believe she was all that big of a deal online. Sure, she had a couple hundred thousand (closer to a million, really) followers. But, in the grand scheme of things, did that really matter? People would tire of her one day, they’d find another pretty fashionista to gush over in the span of a year. For the time being, she just wanted to bask in whatever glow she had. The fame would come and go, and soon she’d be left with nothing but the memory of her silly little instagram account. 

Speaking of, the blonde haired girl set up her next post. Her caption had been some witty pun made up by her best friend, Jackie, because obviously she wouldn’t think of something so endearing yet stupid at the same time. Gigi usually ripped her captions from stupid things her friends would say, or she would force Nicky to translate some song lyric into french and use that. She wasn’t exactly the most creative when it came to captioning her posts, but she made up for it with the fact that the clothes she wore were all hand designed. 

Ever since she could remember, Gigi loved fashion. She loved being able to make things that people loved and wished they owned themselves. She adored the way that people would ask her where she got a garment, and how she could answer that she made it herself. Most inspiration she had came from her mother. She had been a seamstress as well, and as a child Gigi would watch her work. She was fascinated with how easily her mother put together clothes, and she started designing at a young age. It’s what led her to where she was now. 

Gigi began posting her outfits on Instagram a year prior. She didn’t expect it to go anywhere, really. So, when she started gaining followers, she was completely shocked. People actually liked her designs and her fashion enough to follow her. Enough to anticipate her next post. It was mind boggling to her. 

As she hit post, she scrolled down her Instagram feed. It was mostly filled with her friends. Jackie’s silly little Star Trek stan account that she had insisted Gigi followed, and Nicky’s own fashion account. Jackie had even forced her to follow the girl she had been pining after for years now, Jan, and she could have sworn the girl combusted when she got that follow notification. The direct message that followed consisted of a fully caps locked message, and a whole bunch of spelling mistakes that Gigi couldn’t even count. 

Pausing her scrolling, one post in particular caught her eye. It was from Jan, posted about an hour ago. In the photo, Jan was smiling brightly with a taller girl standing by her side. Her bouncy red curls were flying all over the place, and her smile lit up the entire photo. Gigi loved when Jan posted photos like this. She didn’t even know the name of the mystery person, and there was never an account tagged in the photos. Gigi was left wondering who that beautiful girl was, and of course she brought it up everytime she saw Jan. 

Gigi could recall the most recent time she brought up the mystery girl. Her, Jan and Jackie were gathered around a busy diner booth, all sharing one basket of fries. It was a silly idea, because Jan could eat far faster than the other two, so by the time Gigi had tuned back into the conversation, half the basket was already gone. She didn’t really mind though. She was aimlessly scrolling through her Instagram, as she does, when another photo of the mystery girl popped up on her feed. She slid her phone towards Jan, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Who is this?” Gigi had a rather harsh tone of voice, and oftentimes she sounded meaner than she had intended to. But, Jan knew her well enough to see past that. 

“That’s me and my friend, why?” Jan was much more upbeat than Gigi was. Sometimes, the blonde would wonder if Jan had ever felt any emotion aside from happiness. 

“Yeah but like, what’s her name? Her Instagram?” Gigi pressed forward. 

A grin spread onto Jan’s lips, and she snatched Gigi’s phone up. “Are you being a simp? Are you simping for my friend who you have never met?”

“What does that even mean?” Gigi attempts to snatch her phone away from Jan, all while Jackie sits back and does nothing to help her. Some best friend she is. “Jackie, help me.”

“I want no part in whatever you two are doing.” Jackie throws her hands up, before taking another fry and popping it into her mouth. It’s so like Jackie to not get involved in their silly squabble, it makes Gigi wonder why she loves the girl so much. Except, not really. She knows why. 

“Give me my phone! I don’t even know what a simp is.” Gigi stretches across the table until she’s practically kneeling on it. It’s garnered the attention from other occupants in the diner, most of them wondering what the hell this twenty something year old is doing. Gigi pays no mind, finally grasping her phone and sinking back down into her seat. 

Jan goes on to explain exactly what a simp is to Gigi, and the girl can't even deny the fact that maybe she is simping a little bit. She doesn’t think it really counts though, she’s never sent this mystery person any money. She doesn’t even know her name for crying out loud. 

It’s about a week later, and Gigi still has no answers to who this person is. Jan refuses to tell her, for whatever reason. She has to push those thoughts aside for the moment, because their close friends are throwing a party that evening and she still has yet to get dressed. She moved over to her closet, rifling through her clothes for something suitable. It wasn’t something super fancy, so she could skip out on long gowns. She didn’t really feel like showing up in a cocktail dress either, though. 

After searching for an allotted time that she doesn’t really want to admit, Gigi finds the perfect outfit. It’s a turtleneck shirt that hugs her figure like a glove, and it has a beautiful floral print on it. She pairs it with a simple high waisted short, tucking the shirt into them. It makes her waist look skinny, and her legs long. She adds a small little pink scarf tied around her neck. She pairs it with a matching pair of pink boots that make her even taller, and she looks over her outfit in the mirror. It’s perfect for a casual party, plus she looks pretty enough for anyone new she might meet. 

Grabbing her purse, she slips her keys into her hand and heads out the door. Thoughts of the mystery girl are completely void from her mind, which was rare. She was glad for the distraction though, and she drove towards Nicky’s house with Clario blasting throughout her car. 

Nicky has much more money than Gigi did. Her house was larger than Gigi thought was possible, and the other woman surely didn’t need that much space. It helped though, when she had parties like this. Though it was mostly kept to close friends, other friends were brought around and it made the house bustle with noise. Gigi stepped inside without even knocking, knowing Nicky well enough that she didn’t find it necessary to do such a thing. 

As she was crossing the main hall to go find where her friends were tucked away, she saw her. Long legs covered by a pair of worn out denim jeans that were absolutely covered in iron on patches. She was wearing a bright green blouse that hung loosely off her shoulders, and it was unbuttoned enough to reveal the white tank top she was wearing underneath. Bracelets and necklaces clinked together every time the girl moved, and there were the signature red curls adorning her head. She looked even prettier in real life. 

Before she could even take a deep breath, Jan was by her side tugging on her wrist. Gigi stumbles a bit, still a little dazed from seeing the mystery girl from all those photos right in front of her. “Hey girl! You drooling? Better pick your mouth up off the floor before she notices!”

The music from the house pumps in her ears, and she can barely hear Jan making fun of her because of it. Barely being the key word here. Gigi shoves her, puffing out her cheeks. “I didn’t know she would be here. You should have told me, you bitch!” 

Jan simply laughs, grabbing Gigi’s wrist and pulling her over towards her. She can feel her heart in her throat as they get closer, and Gigi has time to appreciate just how beautiful this girl is. Sure, her fashion is louder than Gigi’s, and she certainly looked more creative than herself. Her features were soft, her lips look fuller in person if that was even possible. Gigi was absolutely blown away, how was it possible for someone to be that pretty?

Before she could get over whatever she was feeling, the mystery girl was right in front of her. Her smile lit up the whole room, and Gigi was finding it difficult to even breathe in the presence of this girl. She was already striking up a conversation with Jan that Gigi was tuning out. In favor of listening, she was simply staring at the girl and hoping that she would be swallowed by the floor. She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t talk to someone this pretty. All the confidence she prides herself on having was washing away. And then, that smile was directed at her, and she thought she might just pass out.

“Hi! I’m Crystal!” Crystal. That was her name. Such a perfect name for such a perfect girl. Gigi thought that Crystal suited her, considering she was about as unique as a crystal. None of them looked perfectly the same, and they all stood out on their own. 

“Uh..” Gigi stuttered over her words, looking around the room as if she had forgotten her own name. “Gigi! I’m… Gigi.”

“Pretty name for such a pretty girl!” Crystal shot her a wink, and Gigi felt her heart stop in her chest. The way the music pounded made her feel dizzy, and Crystal giving her that flirty little smile wasn’t helping at all. Gigi simply laughed the compliment off, waving her hand and excusing herself from the two of them. She needed to get some air. 

Stepping out onto Nicky’s back patio, Gigi looked down at the pool below her. There was a small staircase that led down to the pool's edge, and with the beginning of summer fast approaching, Nicky had just opened up the pool. The water shone with the sunset, rippling and allowing Gigi to get lost in her thoughts. The mystery girl, Crystal, had actually been here. Jan was probably planning this all along. Gigi wouldn’t be surprised if the reason she kept any and all information a secret was for this exact night. Actually, she guaranteed that was the reason. 

Reaching into her pocket, Gigi took out the one object that always brought her comfort. Her phone. She opened her Instagram, scrolling through her notifications until a certain name popped out at her. 

crystalemethyd has followed you!

Crystal Methyd. That was her full name. She clicked onto the page, finding herself lost in scrolling through pictures of the beautiful girl. Her follower count was low, and it was clear that this was a personal account and not a business one like Gigi’s. Crystal's vibrant smile captivated her, and she didn’t even hear the door to the patio opening. She was far too engrossed in the current photo of Crystal holding up her cat and laughing at the camera. The way her eyes crinkled slightly was absolutely adorable, and Gigi couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. 

“That’s my cat, Tic Tac.” The sudden voice behind her startled her, and Gigi nearly dropped her phone down into the pool water below them. She took a deep breath, locking her phone quickly and pressing a hand to her chest. 

“You can’t just sneak up on somebody like that, jeez!” Gigi puffed up her cheeks, though her voice was much softer than she intended. Crystal just laughed quietly at her, holding her arms up. 

“I’m sorry! You were just standing out here by yourself, thought you could use some company.” Crystal shrugged, and Gigi had to force herself to look away from those perfectly painted lips. She looked up to the sky, watching the way it melted from a light purple to a beautiful pink. The edges of the sun were setting, and she could see how all the colors blended together to make a masterpiece. 

“So…” Crystal broke the silence. “Why are you out here scrolling through my Instagram? Are you some sort of stalker or something?” The playful grin on her lips made Gigi’s heart tremble, and she looked away quickly. 

“No! I just noticed you followed me.” She swallowed. Since when was she this awkward? Never in her life had she found herself fumbling for words like this. “I’ve seen pictures of you and Jan before. You were never tagged in any of them.”

“Oh yeah, I didn’t want Jan’s followers like hounding me or something.” Crystal laughed again. “People on the internet are scary. And mean.”

It was the first time since she had seen Crystal that her smile faltered. There was a flash of nervousness, of insecurity in her eyes before it was replaced by that confident aura that seemed to follow her. “Yeah.” Was all Gigi could bring herself to say. 

The two of them stood in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, both sneaking glances at the other. Gigi still couldn’t believe how beautiful Crystal was in person, and that fact that she was really standing in front of her was starting to settle in. As if the silence was actually physically hurting her, Crystal brought her hands down onto the railing of the patio, forcing Gigi to look over to her. 

“Well, it’s been great standing here and doing nothing.” Crystal starts, and Gigi assumes that she must think she’s the most boring person in the whole world. “But, Jan is going to throw a fit if I don’t help her with Jackie. That’s why I’m here after all. And for this mystery girl who has been simping over me for a while.”

Crystal winks at her, and Gigi feels her entire face go red. Of course Jan had told her about that, because why wouldn’t she. She swore that she would get back at her at some point, probably by using Jackie against her. Really though, she knew that Jackie wouldn’t go along with it. 

Crystal grabbed her arm, producing a pen from her pocket. Gigi hadn’t even realized what was happening until she felt the numbers being scrawled across her arm. They were loopy and beautiful, and she never wanted to wash them off. She gasped at the numbers that were clear for anyone to see, and Crystal just grinned at her. 

“You do know I have my phone with me, right?” Gigi challenges her, and Crystal just waves her hand.

“Where’s the romance in that, miss Goode?” With those final words, Crystal shoots her one last wink and disappears into the house. Gigi is left standing there, mouth hung open as she tries to process what had just happened. Did Crystal want to go out with her? Was this a date invitation?

Gigi had no idea. But she took her phone out, copied the number into it and put a cute little heart next to Crystal’s contact name. After a few deep breaths, she went back inside to find where the hell Nicky and Jackie were. Plus, she wanted to see whatever scheme Jan had planned to swoop Jackie off her feet. 

Gigi never really understood slang, despite her follower count. Most of it went over her head, and she wasn’t well versed in meme culture. But, in the words of Jan, maybe she was a simp. 

And maybe that was okay.

[imalifegen89]

A Legacy Left Behind - Chapter - 7 - When the Past Unfurls - Part I

Rating: Mature

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1, Hawaii Five-0 (2010)

Relationship: Steve McGarrett/John Sheppard

Characters: Steve McGarrett, John Sheppard, Danny "Danno" Williams, Evan Lorne, Bates (Stargate), Laura Cadman, Alicia Vega, Kono Kalakaua, Adam Noshimuri, PO Higgins (OC), Samantha "Sam" Carter, Jack O'Neill, John McGarrett, Dr. Lam, Catherine Rollins, Wo Fat, Original Goa'uld Character(s), Original Characters

Additional Tags: Action/Adventure, Action & Romance, Military, Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Violence, Character Bashing, Not Catherine Rollins Friendly, No DADT, Swearing

Summary :

"Sure John, I'll call," He promised as the SUV came to a stop in front of them. He and Danny both got in and seated themselves. He then gave a short wave to John who was still standing there by the exit watching them leave. Steve hoped what John had told him would be true, that his dad would be able to make it through. He was not ready to lose his only remaining parent. ‘God please, not again! Not so soon ...' His mind was repeating the mantra as Steve let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes."

Steve will find out about what happened to his father, who was involved in it, why it happened and so much more than he ever bargained for...

Hello All, Here's the next part of the series, and it's a two-parter. There are some plot twists on the way and hope you all will enjoy it.

Aethir - Thank you so much for your hard work and for finding some time to help me with editing, commenting, and giving out very helpful tips and suggestions. Idea bouncing and snark is always so much fun with you!!!

Part 1 - Honolulu General

Honolulu General Hospital

Hawaii

The six-hour-long flight in the old and noisy Globemaster had left both SEALs travel-weary and sleep-deprived. Neither had talked much during the flight, trying to catch a few hours of shut-eye, but among the jarring engine noise, the comms chatter, the endless shuddering, and the training maneuvers, that had been impossible. At the end of the flight, they had thanked the crew and disembarked with relief, each carrying their single duffel.

They were both on leave and therefore in civilian clothes, and instead of the usual armory they carried around, they only had their handguns and with extra clips in their bags. Although they were only making a visit to the hospital, neither of them was willing to go completely unarmed.

A short taxi ride brought them to the hospital from Hickam closer to the midday visiting hours. They figured if needed, they could wait in the hospital until they could see John McGarrett.

……….

"Hello, My name’s Steve McGarrett, I got a call last night about my father. Somebody named Curtis called me," said Steve, presenting his credentials to the male nurse manning the reception area of the Outdoor-Patient-Department. The nurse - L. Rider, according to his name tag - gave Steve and his ID a once over and started accessing his system.

"Yes, Mr. McGarrett, your father's been moved from the ICU. He’s in room 308. You can take that elevator to the left," he informed.

“Thanks.”

Steve and Danny both took off towards the given directions.

The room Steve's father was in wasn't hard to find. It was located on the third floor and the room had the number and the name 'John McGarrett' on a plaque clearly displayed. It also had 'Dr. Leonard T. Lester - Cardiologist' listed as his primary care physician.

"I'm going to go look around and find some coffee. Do you need anything?" Danny asked. He was going to give his friend some time with his dad before going in.

"Yeah sure, I could use some coffee.”

……….

During the six long hours he’d had to think about what happened, Steve’s mind had been busy contemplating some horrible scenarios. He hadn’t realized that he had been subconsciously bracing himself for the worst. Nobody in his family had any history of heart attacks and he didn't know what to expect, what to do or how to prepare. Being the trained planner that he was, Steve found the lack of knowledge rather unsettling.

What the nurse at the reception told him, gave him hope though. He theorized that since his dad's already been moved from the ICU to a regular room, his condition shouldn't be that bad.

Steve took a moment to compose himself, watching Danny as he walked away. Then he took a deep breath and knocked on the door before entering room 308.

……….

He stood still by the door to take the scene in.

His dad was lying on the bed and a white and blue hospital gown was peeking out from underneath the white blanket. There was a monitor attached to his chest and Steve could see the leads disappear through the opening of his gown. The apparatus was quiet and its screen indicated a steady rhythm while John McGarrett slept. Steve noticed there was an IV connected to his dad's left hand as well. He scrunched up his nose when the strong odor of antiseptics hit him in the face, contrasting starkly with the smell of gun oil and Old Spice aftershave he usually associated with his dad.

McGarrett senior was sleeping peacefully and didn't seem to be in any pain. Steve was content to let his dad be, preferring to let him wake up on his own. As he stepped further into the room, he saw a chair by the bed and lowered himself to it slowly, mindful not to make a sound. Then he placed his duffel bag on the floor and settled in to wait.

Maybe it was his instincts of being an active duty police officer - John McGarrett surfaced from his slumber knowing that there was somebody in the room with him, within a few minutes of Steve’s entrance. The slight change in the rhythm of the heart monitor alerted Steve to the fact. Not wanting to startle him, Steve leaned forward and addressed his father softly.

"Hey dad," he reached to touch his hand, the one without the IV needle.

"Steve!" His dad's eyes went wide, realizing his son was sitting by the bed. "What are you doing here?" John knew Steve was deployed and he was the last person he expected to see in the hospital this early. He hadn’t even been in here for 24 hours.

"The hospital called me and told me you had a heart attack," Steve explained. He was relieved to see that his dad was speaking clearly and wasn't showing any signs of disorientation or pain. In fact, he looked quite normal. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," John smiled at the raised eyebrow he received from his son at that. So he elaborated. "Just a little tightness in my chest area. But the doctor says it's normal after an attack. Other than that, I really am feeling fine. To be honest, I didn't even know what it was. I only knew I had a heart attack when Dr. Lester told me this morning," He was more curious as to how his son got here so quickly. "Where were you when they called you?"

"Colorado Springs." Steve smiled. He couldn't really get into details about his deployment or his whereabouts other than that, but he was glad that he was in the States to make this trip.

"Hah, and you’re here already. That was quick,"

"Yeah, I got lucky and caught a transport.”

Steve was more than happy to just sit there and exchange pleasantries all day long. But he needed to know what happened first. He got up to go and fetch a glass of water for his father from the bedside table. "Dad, what happened?"

His dad took it and drank some water before handing it back to Steve. Then he turned on his bed to fully settle on his back. Steve put the glass away and leaned towards his dad, giving him his full, undivided attention.

"It was the weirdest thing, kid," said the senior McGarrett, frowning as he cast his mind back to the chain of events that led to his sudden health failure. “I was in that small grocery shop by the filling station near home. I had just finished filling up the tank on the truck and was getting some stuff for the weekend. I remember walking towards the counter to pay and that’s it - for the life of me, I can't remember having any pain or calling for help or anything. I was standing there one moment and was waking up on this bed the next.” He paused to take a deep breath and then exhale slowly. “Then there’s this fellow - Dr. Lester - is telling me how lucky I was to come back from a severe myocardial infarction with no visible damage to my heart,” he made a face, remembering his earlier conversation with the overly cheerful doctor who described the incident in vivid medical detail.

“How’d you get here?”

“He said that the shop owner called for emergency services and sent me here. Apparently, I coded on the way, but they managed to get my heart started again without much fuss. And now, here I am.” John finished recounting the incident.

Steve rubbed a hand across his face, trying to take it all in.

“I wouldn’t obviously know what to expect, it’s not like I’ve had a heart attack before - but I'd have thought that at least you get some kind of a warning sign, you know? Like breathing difficulties, chest pain or something,” McGarrett senior continued after a moment. “Not this going about your normal day-to-day business, and then a complete blackout, followed by waking up in a damn hospital bed - it just doesn't feel normal,” his frown deepened.

Steve didn’t say anything for a long while. He just took his time to sit there and watch his dad who seemed to be doing pretty much okay after going through such an experience. He was immensely relieved and was happy to take his time to enjoy the feeling, letting go of the worry and stress that had built up since the moment he’d received the call.

A knock on the door interrupted the comfortable silence in the room and Danny Williams entered carrying two styrofoam cups of coffee.

“Ah there you are, Cap, how are you feeling?” He asked, handing over a coffee to Steve and coming closer to stand near the bed railing.

“I’m feeling alright, considering,” John smiled crookedly. “Where’s my coffee, Williams?”

“Hey, I don't think coffee is on the approved list for you,” Danny grinned. He was glad to see the man looked healthy enough for someone who had just had a serious health scare, fit to be up and making demands. “Besides, this hospital swill is so bad it might just give you a different problem or three,” he sipped his coffee and grimaced theatrically to prove the point. “So when are they letting you out?”

“Don't know yet, my doctor is supposed to drop by any time now. I don't think I need to stay here any longer at all.” John stated confidently. He was not accustomed to sitting around on a bed all day, especially when he wasn’t feeling different from any other day.

“Let’s let the doctor decide that, yeah dad? As you said, this is the first time something like this has happened to you and they just might need to keep you under observation for a bit - just saying,” Steve cautioned.

He knew his dad and he could see the stubborn man was already planning on going home, to start acting as if nothing happened. He might even insist on going to work unless the doctor gave him strict orders to rest and take it easy for a while.

“Which reminds me, do they know at the station that you are here?” Steve asked his dad before he could start protesting about staying put in the hospital. “I tried calling Kelly before I left, but it went to voicemail,”

“No, I’m on leave - only due back the day after tomorrow,” his dad replied somewhat petulantly.

The room door opened again, this time granting entry to a short, balding Hawaiian native. The name tag embroidered over the chest area of his white coat identified him as Dr. L.T. Lester. He smiled cheerfully at all of them and went to the nearest monitor connected to McGarrett senior.

“So how are you feeling today, John?” the doctor inquired while studying the monitor.

“I’m fine doc, when do I get to go home?” John got straight to the point.

The doctor continued taking readings and making notes with an amused smile on his face. Then he went to unclip the chart hanging on the bed railing and made a few notes on it. After that, instead of answering his reluctant patient, the doctor turned to Steve and Danny to introduce himself. At the end of exchanging pleasantries, he finally turned to address John.

“Well, Mr. McGarrett, I can see you’re doing quite well and your readings are good. But, as I explained to you earlier, what you went through is quite serious and you might have damage to your heart muscle.”

Then sensing the alarm from the visitors of his patient, the doctor hurried to explain. “It’s what happens during a heart attack. The blood flow into the heart gets interrupted and it goes into a sort of overdrive trying to restore the flow. This overactivity can cause damage. Your dad was quite lucky that people near him reacted quickly and sent him to the hospital on time.” The doctor smiled again.

“So, what’s next, doc?” Steve asked.

“We do need to assess the possibility of damage and the cause of the infraction. The most common reason is usually coronary artery disease, which means cholesterol clogging the arteries. There are some instances this could happen if you were experiencing a seizure with severe spasms and contractions. We’ll need to run some tests to determine the cause and then plan steps for the recovery,”

“And how long will all this take?” The McGarrett senior looked crestfallen, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to get out soon.

“I actually have you scheduled for some of the tests now. Some blood work, an EKG, and a scan. An attendant should be here shortly to take you for those,” Then the doctor turned to Steve and Danny. “The tests will take about an hour or so. If you need to step out and have a meal or something, now would be the time.”

An elderly female attendant entered the room quietly, pushing a wheelchair as the doctor finished, and started unhooking Steve's dad from his various monitors. Steve took the doctor's advice and took his leave with Danny, after letting his dad know that they’ll be back once the tests were done.

……….

“Well, I’ve gotta admit man, your dad’s right. That does sound weird.” Danny said after listening to Steve about what happened.

“Why?” Steve frowned.

“My uncle Mario had a heart attack a couple of years ago. The man was moving some heavy boxes around. He’d been sweating buckets and breathing through his mouth for about an hour when my aunt found him and made him take a break. Then he felt pain in his chest and aunt Rea took him to a doctor. The doctor took one look at him and sent him to an ER. He’s been suffering from a heart attack for hours by then,” Danny paused and tried to remember the exact details his mother told him about what happened to his uncle. “He is fine now. He had to have a bypass and has to stay away from all the greasy food and the alcohol, but he made it,” he said inspecting the sandwich he took from the vending machine. They were both seated in the hospital cafeteria with bottles of water and sandwiches.

It was crowded and almost all the tables were full with families huddling together having lunch - most probably waiting for news about their loved ones. It wasn’t that noisy, despite being crowded to capacity - and nowhere near cozy or inviting - as one would expect from a busy dining area. It felt as though the sense of expectation, the sense of happiness, and the overpowering sense of grief had all tangled up together to create a very subdued atmosphere. Even the smell of food mixed with the underlying odors of disinfectant contributed to the gloom that pervaded over the souls lost in their own private worlds.

“Wow, I’ve forgotten how crappy the hospital food is. This doesn't look like a roast beef sandwich man,” Danny sniffed at it. “Sure doesn’t smell like it either.” Then he shrugged and started eating. It didn’t taste much better either, but he was hungry after the long flight.

Steve didn’t say anything as he nibbled on his food. He wasn’t really hungry but knew he had to have something to keep his energy up. He was thinking about his dad’s recounting of the incident. He hadn’t said anything to his dad earlier, but the more he thought about it, the less it made sense. What Danny was telling him also made it clear how unusual the whole thing was. He made up his mind to pop into the shop his dad was in, later when they left the hospital. Maybe he could talk to the shopkeeper and even have a look at their security footage if they had any. He might even find something that could explain his dad suddenly suffering a heart attack. Maybe there was something that his dad had forgotten to mention.

He needed to get in touch with Sheppard as well, to let him know his dad’s condition. He knew that John would worry until he heard from him. Taking the last bite of his sandwich, he decided now would be the best time to make that call.

“Listen, I need to call Shep and let him know dad’s alright. I’m just gonna be over there by that balcony,” he told Danny as he stood up, fishing his phone out of his jacket pocket. Then he walked to the area he pointed, dialing Sheppard. “Be right back.”

………..

The sweet and subtle smell of her perfume reached Danny first, as he realized the lady who was wearing it was standing right in front of him. He looked up and saw the familiar, smiling face of Lieutenant Catherine Rollins looking down at him.

“Well, hello!” He grinned. “Fancy running into you here, of all places,” he gestured at the seat Steve had just vacated. “Take a seat,”

“Thanks,” Rollins smiled charmingly as she sat. “I’m just here visiting a friend of mine. She just had her second baby - a cute little baby boy,” her face took on the same expression all women wore when talking about babies. “I popped in here to get a drink and then I saw you,” she said. “I thought you guys were in Colorado? Is everything ok?” Her expression turned into one tinged with concern.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m here with Steve, actually. We got a call about his dad, but he’s alright. We just saw him,” Danny explained without going into much detail. He noticed the Lieutenant perking up at the mention of McGarrett junior.

“He’s over there, on a call.” he pointed with his head.

Steve was leaning over the balcony with his elbows resting on the railing and busy talking to Sheppard. He didn’t see the new arrival as he had his back to them.

Danny saw the wattage of Cathrine’s smile go up as her eyes ran over the view the oblivious SEAL presented. He hid the grin and blinked at her innocently when she turned back to face him.

“So, will you guys be here for a few days then?” She inquired, her gaze snapping back to where Steve was, almost unintentionally.

Danny knew she was mostly interested in finding out whether Steve was going to be around for a while.

“Well, that depends.” He hedged. “We have to see his dad’s doctor and see how it goes,”

He didn’t want to give any definite answers or any other details without Steve’s say so. He opened his bottle and drank some water, wishing Steve would soon return. So that he could decide what to tell this infatuated Lieutenant who was back to staring at Steve’s ass with a dreamy look on her face. Then something started to nag at Danny about what she said earlier, but he couldn’t place it. He pushed it away to sort out later as he saw Steve finishing his call.

……….

“Yeah, so that’s what happened. He seems alright and man, that’s a relief. Depending on what his tests and scans show, it’ll be a day or two more. But I’ll message you when I find out,” Steve said to John, who was quite relieved at the fact that Steve’s dad was fine. He insisted that Steve take as much time as needed to make sure his dad got all the support he needed. He also made Steve promise to message him with updates and implored him to take care of himself before finally ending the call.

Steve put his phone back inside his jacket with a smile. He very much appreciated the time he was given to take care of his dad. Moreover, he was deeply touched by the way Sheppard sounded over the phone. He had been really worried and the relief that poured over from his lover through the call was almost a tangible thing. Steve made a mental note to send regular updates as promised. It wasn’t something he would have done for anyone else, but he knew Sheppard would stress otherwise. It felt nice to know that he had somebody who cared that much about him.

He felt the good feeling wilt away when he turned back to see the penetrating gaze of Catherine Rollins directed at him. He was pretty sure he caught her in the act of staring at his ass. She smiled brilliantly at him and waved. Steve was somewhat reluctant to wave back and tried his best to summon a smile for her. He was sure it looked more like a grimace instead.

Steve didn’t have anything against beautiful women. He was definitely not opposed to being the subject of desire of one, either. He had gone out with many pretty women and Catherine Rollins, with her long black hair, soulful brown eyes, and radiant smile was exactly his type. But he was very much invested in another hazel-eyed brunet and he didn’t see himself veering off anytime soon - if ever at all. Even if he wasn’t, Steve knew that he still wouldn’t be interested in this particular woman. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something off about Lieutenant Rollins - something that rubbed him the wrong way - that made him want to be on his guard whenever she was nearby.

“Hi, Steve,” Rollins greeted cheerfully as he walked towards them.

Again, he was instantly put off by the overly friendly greeting. They had only known each other for about 48 hours, hadn’t they? He had to make a conscious effort to return the greeting without letting his true feelings show.

“Hello, Lieutenant,” He asked, more or less politely. “What brings you here?”

Danny cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, picking up on Steve’s discomfort instantly.

Rollins either didn’t notice or didn’t let it bother her because she launched into the story of her friend and her cute little babies with great enthusiasm.

Steve kept the smile plastered on his face as she talked. Then he made a show of checking time and gestured to Danny. “Hey, listen, it’s nice bumping into you here. But Danny and I’ve gotta run. My dad should be done with his tests now,” he said to the woman as Danny got up from the chair to go with him. Steve didn’t want to give her any details about their visit here and hoped Danny hadn’t run his mouth either.

With that somewhat curt parting, he turned and walked out of the cafeteria, with Danny following closely behind.

“So, it isn’t just me, hah? She gives off weird vibes to you too?” Danny asked, turning his walk into a half jog to keep up with Steve’s longer strides. Steve was eager to put as much distance as possible between them and Rollins.

“Yeah, you didn’t tell her why we’re here, did you?” Steve asked while stabbing the buttons on the elevator.

“Nah, not really. Just told her that we’re here for your dad. That’s it.”

“Is she following us?” Steve was staring at the shiny surface of the elevator door.

The reflections on it were slightly distorted. But Danny could discern the shapely figure of Rollins in tight-fitting jeans and green sleeveless top, slowly making her way towards them.

“Forget this,” Steve spat, pressing a few more buttons for various floors on the keypad. Then he swiftly walked away to the nearest staircase and started climbing two steps at a time. He knew his behavior was a bit irrational; she was just a colleague after all, not another enemy combatant gaining on him. Nevertheless, he wanted to get away from her as soon as possible.

When they finally reached Steve’s dad’s room, the man was already there, enjoying his lunch. It didn’t look much better than what they had either. John McGarrett insisted that there was no need for them to hang around since he was just going to take his pills and take a long nap anyway. He could see the boys were tired and wanted them to go home and catch a few hours of sleep for themselves. Steve relented and promised his dad that they’d drop by later around dinner time. He made him promise to call them if he needed anything before that and then finally hugged him fiercely, before taking their leave.

[hellcaster901]

The Wedding

summary: Y/N is getting married in a few months, and its something that she’s been looking forward to for a while. But she runs into an old coworker, one that she just can’t help feel a connection to. Not only is her best friend not helping, but she’s trying to figure out now what she really wants.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT 

Author’s Note: I was having some really tough writers block for my story Leather Dreams and just started writing this. It’s supposed to be a ONE-SHOT, but if you guys are wanting to a second part, I can come up with something! I also used the same tag list from my Leather Dreams series for this one! Enjoy!

Masterlist

I turned in the mirror, looking down at the long white gown that trickled down like a waterfall, dripping over the small stand  I stood on. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my mom and best friend gush over the quality and beauty of the dress, but yet, it still didn’t seem like me.

“What do you think?” The stylist asked, flaring out the skirts. 

“I don’t know.” I answered honestly. Loving the way he fit my waist, but hating the way it made my breasts looked. I looked like I was almost from the 50s with how pointy my breasts were.

“What don’t you like about it?” The stylist asked, looking up at me. I could see the annoyance in her face. The way she got tired of how many dresses I was trying on. But this is her job, gotta keep her busy some how. 

It’s not that I didn’t like the design, the way the lace laid over the white skirt, and trailed up to the arms and bosom was gorgeous, it was simple yet elegant, but there was just something that wasn’t right.

“My boobs, look at them, I’m going to poke his eye out once I get up there.” I chuckled, running my hands over the very much padded dress. 

“You look fine darling.” My mom said, waving a hand. I could tell she was getting tipsy. The champagne they kept giving her was hitting her harder and harder each glass. 

“If you don’t like it, then look at another one.” Mary smiled, a simply shrugging at me. I bit the inside of my lip, nodding.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think this is me.” I told the stylist.

“No problem!” The woman smiled, helping down from the stand, grabbing onto the trail and following me to the changing room.

***

“I don’t know why I can’t find a dress.” I sighed, lifting the bags onto the chair, sliding the tray of food onto the table. Mary sighed with me, sliding her bags onto the empty seat beside her. “They’re literally all gorgeous. I don’t get why none of them are catching my eye.” I reached for my slice of pizza, taking a giant bite. 

“Just none of them are what you are envisioning.” She chuckled, twisting a fork into her noodles.

“I didn’t envision anything.” I mumbled with a full mouth. “I didn’t want a big wedding.” I swallowed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Adam’s parents are paying for the wedding and Adam is just willing to let them make all the decisions for it.” Mary made a sound of disgust at Adam’s name. “Stop it.” I laughed, shaking my head.

“I just don’t think he’s the one for you. You can do much better than that pervert.” I rolled my eyes, taking another bite. “He’s a jerk and just doesn’t give much thought to you.” 

“Stop it Mary.” She’s done this before, almost tried to convince me when Adam proposed to say no. “I love him, and you literally can’t stop me from marrying him.” I told her, but it almost sounded like I was trying to convince myself. She rolled her eyes, stuffing a fork full of noodles in her mouth. “I’m going to get a refill.” I mumbled, grabbing my cup and heading to the soda fountain. 

I turned quickly once it was full, gasping as I shoulder checked the person behind me. “Oh my god.” The drink spilt slightly getting onto me and the leather jacket the man wore. “I am so sorry.” I chuckled awkwardly, looking up at the man. I was almost speechless as I saw who was towering over me. 

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” He reached for a napkin, wiping off the liquid. “Good thing it’s leather.” He joked, making eye contact with me. The realization that he knew me clicked, a smile spreading on his face. “Y/N?” 

“Yeah, oh my god, I haven’t seen you in forever Negan.” I smiled, setting down my cup. He wrapped a lean arm around my waist, a slight squeeze as a hug. “How have you been?” He shrugged, setting down his empty cup next to mine, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Oh you know, teaching is still a fucking mess.” He chuckled, that gorgeous smile sending chills down my back. “How about you?” He asked, gesturing a hand at me. “Heard you were getting married.” I nodded, almost feeling embarrassed.

“I am, in a couple months actually.” I smiled, covering my left hand with my hand. “Just tried to do some dress shopping and am not having the best of luck.” I chuckled awkwardly again, glancing at Mary. She stared at the two of us, her eyebrows raised, pointing at Negan. 

“Well, congratulations Y/N.” He smiled, reaching for his cup again. 

“Thank you.” I smiled, looking back at Mary who kept point and mouthing words at me. 

“You look absolutely great.” He added, looking over my form. I blushed, brushing back some of my hair. I watched as he took a little too long looking over me, his tongue coming out and swiping his bottom lip. I felt my chest tighten, nerves rushing at me. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” I smiled. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mary stand up, reading to walk over to us. “I should get going, can’t really leave my friend alone for too long.” I lightly joke, seeing a small smile formed on his lips. “I hope to see you soon.” He nodded, watching as I grabbed my cup, turning quickly on my heels and heading straight to Mary.

“Who was that?” Mary gasped, not tearing her eyes away from Negan. I glanced back, his muscular lean back towards us as he filled his cup. 

“That’s Negan.” I giggled, watching as he put a lid on his cup, walking back towards his table where another older man was sitting. We both watched as he sat down, slinging an arm over the empty chair next to him, bringing the straw up to his lips. I could see from the distance the way his throat moved as he swallowed. “Back when I was a substitute teacher, I substituted at the high school he works at.” We both watched shamelessly as he talked and drank his drink, the way he laughed or moved his hands with the man he was with. “I’m not sure who his friend is, but he must be a new teacher there.” 

“He is absolutely gorgeous.” Mary drooled. “A real silver fox.” I rolled my eyes, but kept on watching him from across the food court like creeps. He must’ve felt our eyes on him as he looked over at us, both of us scrambling to make it seem like we were looking at something else. I felt my cheeks grow hot, both Mary’s and I’s cheeks bright red. 

We broke out in a fit of giggles, ducking our heads down and staring at our plates. I took a glance back at Negan and his friend, both smiling and chuckling. Negan looked over at me, our eyes locking for a few seconds. I saw the smirk growing on his gorgeous mouth, sending a wink my way. 

“How did you not tap that?”

“He has a wife Mary.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Either way, I don’t think he’d go for someone half his age.”

***

“Drink Drink Drink Drink!” My friends chanted, watching as I took shot after shot, the liquid burning my throat as it flowed down. 

“No more, no more.” I coughed, shaking my head and waving my hands at the shots. “I can’t take another one.” My friends booed, all laughing as they saw me struggle. “That was way too much.” I laughed, standing up and tripping over my foot.

“You just took them, calm down.” Mary laughed over the music watching as I flipped her off, going to the bar. I sighed as I sat down, running a hand through my hair, fluffing it up and getting it out of my face. 

“Hey, can I just get some water.” I motioned to the bartender, she smiled at me, reaching under the counter and grabbing me a bottle. “Perfect, thank you.” I lifted my hair, reaching around and placing the water on my neck.

“Getting a little crazy over there, huh?” I glance a few seats down, seeing Negan sitting there, an elbow on the counter, a beer in his hand as he watched me. I chuckled, shaking my head. Of course I’d see him here.

“Hopefully not too crazy, I still wanna remember the night.” I joked. He watched as I twisted the cap off, taking a huge swig. “How about you?” I breathed deeply, the cold water rushing down. 

“Oh you know, trying to let some steam out.” He smirked, looking me up and down. I blushed a little bit, taking another drink from my water. “Pretty hellish day at work.”

“Those kids just not running those laps huh?” I laughed, he laughed with me, shaking his head. 

“Just a bunch of shitheads is all.” He sighed, running his left hand over his face. I noticed the lack of a wedding ring he had, my eyes widening slightly. I had to tell Mary. “How about you? We didn’t really get to talk before you ran off the other day.” He smiled. Before I could answer he got up from his seat, moving to the empty seat beside me. 

My heart was racing in my chest as he sat closer, and I could really see how handsome he was. When I knew him a few years ago he was handsome but now… he really was a silver fox. The grey weaves through his facial hair, that shit eating grin that he gave me hasn’t changed either. 

“I’m currently teaching at East High school. No longer a substitute.” I smiled proudly, my finger tracing the edges of the bottle, water coating the tip of my finger. Negan watched me, his eyes moving down to my lips, trailing over my body, down my legs and back up, our eyes meeting once again. 

“How’s your wife?” I panicked, trying to keep the dirty thoughts at bay, but also trying to control the wetness I began to feel between my thighs. Negan sighed, again running a hand over his face. 

“Divorced.” He dimpled said, a shrug and then a swig of his beer. 

“Guess she lost something good.” He looked up at me, a look in his eyes I haven’t seen before. 

“How long have you and your fiancé been together?” He asked, an eyebrow arched. I mentally kicked myself for moving the conversation to our significant others, not really wanting to talk about Adam to Negan. 

“About 2 years.” I pushed back some hair, noticing the way Negan looked over my neck. There was an undeniable tension between us. If it was either the alcohol or we’ve just grown as adults. Either way, I wanted him, and from the way he looked at me. He wanted me too. “He’s a contractor.” I added lamely, wincing at how awkward I am. Negan nodded, listening. 

“Y/N!” I looked back at the girls, seeing Mary standing there, squinting her eyes at me. She looked over at Negan, her eyes widening when she realized who it was. “Just let me know when you’re done.” She waved, a bashful smile on her face. Negan chuckled lowly, waving at her. I knew she blushed, waving back then sitting back down in her seat. 

“I should probably get back.” I stood from my seat, standing before Negan. My heels giving me a good couple of inches. “It’s been great talking to you.” I smiled, placing a hand on his arm, the cool leather cooling my sweaty palms. 

“Hopefully I get to see you again soon.” He smirked, placing his hand on top of mine. I tried to ignore the warmth from his hand, spreading through my fingers and up my arm. I nodded, slipping from his hand and getting back to the girls. 

Throughout the night I knew Negan was watching as I danced, drank, did anything. And every time I looked, our eyes met. 

In no time, I was no longer dancing for myself, letting the alcohol take over, moving my hips and swinging my arms above my head, moving my body for his eyes. 

This was surely something an engaged woman shouldn’t be doing, but the shots were clouding my judgment, and no one was stopping me. From the way Negan was now leaning against the bar, his legs spread and hooked on the railing, watching me closely, he knew what I was doing was for him. An unspoken connection that neither one of us wanted to break. 

“I don’t think he’s taken his eyes off of you this entire time.” Mary whispered into my ear, her body moving against mine. I nodded subtly, keeping my eyes away from him. “If you’re not going to mess around with him, I will.” She smirked. 

“I’m getting married.” I fought back weakly, shoving her shoulder lightly. “There’s not any messing around while I have this ring on.” I flashed her the ring, her eyes rolling.

“Live a little.” She smiled, throwing her arms over my shoulders, “You know you want to.” I looked over at him, the beer to his lips as he drank, his eyes trained on me. 

“I can’t Mary. I can’t do that to Adam.” I wanted to. I wanted Negan to just ruined me. But I couldn’t do that to Adam. Not months before my wedding. That internal war was waging, and one side was winning. 

“Who said Adam had to find out?” Mary whispered in my ear. I leaned back, looking at her. I knew she didn’t like Adam, and her convincing me, trying to convince me only proved how much she disliked him. I thought for a moment, glancing back at Negan than at Mary. 

“I’ll be back.” I whispered to her. A huge grin grew on her face as I pulled away from her, her hand landing a smack on my ass, a grin on both of our faces. I walked towards the bar, Negan watching me the whole time as I walked past him, sending him a flirty look as I got to the bathrooms. 

I checked the woman’s stall, keeping it unlocked as I stood before the mirror. “I'm an idiot. He’s not gonna come in here. He probably doesn’t even know what that fucking look meant.” I’m going to look like a complete idiot. I just know it. 

I jumped as the door of the bathrooms opened slightly, revealing Negan’s gorgeous face as he stood there. I stood with my back against the sink, staring at him as he walked in, shutting the door behind him, the small click of the door being locked ringing between us. I swallowed the lump in my throat, the alcohol in my system telling me to just jump him, but that small part telling me turn and run and go back to Adam. We stared at one another for a moment until he spoke.

“How come we’ve never hooked up before?” He whispered, taking steps towards me, looking at me like I was his prey. 

“You were married.” I whispered back, the nervousness and excitement evident in my voice as he got closer. He could hear it, the smirk on his face growing.

“And now?” he asked, stopping before me, snaking his hands behind me, leaning against the sink. He was inches away from me, his legs brushing against mine slightly, his breath hitting my face as we stared at one another, his hazel eyes watching over me. I took a deep breath, the smell of his leather, musk, and beer filling my senses. “You’re engaged.” I nodded, my breaths coming out swallower and swallower each second. “And you’re in the bathroom with someone who isn’t your fiance.”

“Are you trying to convince me to leave, or what?” The boldness was coming through, every atom in my body telling me to just unbuckle his pants and get down on my knees. “If that’s the case, I’ll leave right now.” He only smirked, pressing his body against mine, the evident bulge in his pants pressing against my hip. I shuddered, already feeling how huge he was. 

This was wrong in every way. I was getting married in 7 months, and I’m here, ready to risk it all for an older man I had a crush on a few years back. 

The tension between us was running high, his eyes looking over my face for any indication that I didn’t want to do this, and much to his surprise, he couldn’t find any. Without any words, he slammed his lips against mine.

And just like that, the dam broke.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, our kiss frantic and passionate as he grabbed my hips, pulling me harder against him, his thick bulge straining against his zipper, begging to be in me. I moaned as he held me, his tongue swiping across my bottom lip, asking for permission when he knew he already had it. I opened my mouth, our tongues clashing together, fighting for dominance, and without a doubt, I was ready and willing to be submissive to Negan in any shape or form. 

“You can back out now.” He mumbled against my lips, moving to my neck, peppering kisses along my jugular, his beard leaving behind a sting as he moved. “We can act like this never happened.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, trying to keep his distance from me. His lips attached to the soft point where my neck met my shoulder, tugging a low moan from my lips. He pulled back, staring down at me with plump red lips, a devilish look to him. “I’m serious Y/N.” He let me think, let me decide my options, but as of right now, I couldn’t of anything else other than getting him balls deep in me.

“Fuck me, and we can worry about the consequences later.” I whispered to him, moving my hand to his hair and tugging firmly. The devilish smirk came across his face, showing his white teeth.

“That’s my girl.” And with that, we were a mess of hands and lips. Each of us trying to kiss one another, our hands rushing to remove clothes that no business staying between us. I slid my hands under his leather jacket, pushing it over his shoulders, the metal loops clinking against the tile. I moaned as I felt the muscles in his back flex as I moved my hands, the thin black shirt no doing any justice in hiding him. “Do you know how hard it was not to fuck you every second at the school.” He moaned against my ear, his teeth scraping my earlobe, a chill running down my back at his words. “How hard it was not to bend you over each and every desk and fill you with my cum.” 

“Jesus Negan.” I moaned, tiling my head to give him more access.

“Everytime I saw you in one of those fucking skirts-” his hips thrusted against my hip, a low moan leaving his plump lips. “-And seeing you bend over in those, I had to jerk myself off to the sight in my office.” I gasped, his words sending moisture straight to my cunt. I couldn’t even respond as he turned me around, my back pressing against his chest, both of us looking in the mirror, his mouth attached to my neck. “How bad I wanted to have you ride me in my office, bouncing on my lap.”

“Negan, please.” I whimpered, arching my back, pushing my breasts out for his eyes. He greedly accepted, his hands moving up and  grabbing onto my breasts, a low, deep moan leaving his lips.

“What do you want?” He whispered into my ear, our eyes locking onto one another through the mirror. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.” I watched as his hands moved from my breasts, down to my pants, messing with the button and the zipper, teasingly pulling it down. “Tell me Y/N.”

“I want your cock.” I whimpered, his fingers trailing the skin the peaked out from my shirt. “Please Negan, I need you.” I sounded desperate, and that’s exactly what Negan wanted. His fingers worked quick as he unbuttoned my pants, tugging at the zipper and tugging them down my legs, leaving me in my black undies. I slipped my shoes off, kicking my pants off as he cupped my sex. I moaned loudly, throwing my head back onto his shoulder, his thin fingers rubbing against my clothed cunt. 

“You’re fucking soaked.” He moaned, dipping his fingers into the waistband of my panties, brushing past the small bush and instantly dripping a finger between my folds. “Holy shit.” I gasped as he rubbed my clit, his fingers touching every and any spot he could reach. I planted my hands against the sink, arching against Negan, my ass rubbing on his thick bulge. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” I begged, gasping as he traveled lower, sliding a long finger into my entrance. I moaned loudly like a bitch in heat.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He moaned, thrusting his finger into me, adding another finger in, stretching me out for his cock. I was a whimpering mess against him, bucking against his body as he fingered me, his hand becoming covered in my juices. He pulled his hand away, a whimper leaving my lips as I watch him bring it up to his mouth, sucking his finger. My mouth hung open as I watched him, his eyes shut, his mouth latching onto his finger. He was enjoying it, and it was only making me wetter. 

“You taste so fucking sweet.” And like an animal, he grabbed at my clothes, yanking my black panties down, tugging my shirt over my head and leaving me in only my matching black bra.

“I don’t think this is fair.” I chuckled lowly, watching as he greedily grabbing at me, touching every part of my body.

“How come?” He mumbled in my ear, trailing kisses down to my shoulder.

“You still have all your clothes on.” I smirked, biting down onto my bottom lip. I felt him smile against my shoulder, his hands leaving my body as he took a step back.

“Go ahead.” He smirked. I turned instantly, staring up at him as he smirked, holding his arms out, letting me do what I needed to do. I grabbed onto his shirt, tugging him closer, clashing my lips against his.His large hands wrapped around my waist, holding me to him as we kissed, his thin lips moving against mine. 

I couldn’t help feeling that this was right. That this, being here with him in this dirty bathroom, was right. 

I moaned pulling away, tugging his black shirt over his head, throwing it onto our pile of clothes. I breathed deeply, looking over his chest. Negan was a thin man, but he was lean, anyone could tell from one look of him that he could fight if he needed to. 

With a wink at Negan, I lowered myself to my knees, Negan cursing at the sight before him. I bit my bottom lip, undoing his belt, ripping it off and throwing it to the side as I got to his zipper and unbuttoned his pants. He leaned forward, holding himself up on the sink, watching as I teasley pulled his pants down, hooking my fingers onto the boxer briefs he had on. 

“Oh my god.” I mumbled to myself, watching as his cock sprang free from his pants, bobbing up and down. I looked up at Negan, seeing the smug look on his face. He knew he was well gifted with such a cock, and me being surprised only boosted his ego. He quickly stepped out of his pants that pooled at his ankles, kicking them to the side in a hurry.

I wrapped a hand around the base, his cock twitching at the connect, an animalistic growl from Negan as I pumped him. Without warning, I leaned forward, stuffing as much of his cock as I could into my mouth, my hand pumping what I couldn’t fit.

“Jesus Christ.” He moaned, a hand coming to the back of my head, gripping onto my hair tightly. I bobbed on his cock, the tip hitting the back of my throat, gagging as keep him deep in my throat. I pulled back with a gasp, a thin line of spit connecting my bottom lip to the tip of his pulsing cock. I worked my hands over his length, moving my spit around to coat him, the wet sound becoming music to my ears. I took a deep breath, going back and deep throating him. “Fuck, Y/N.” He moaned, pushing my head further down on his cock, his hips thrusting. I gagged, keeping my place as he held my head still, thrusting his cock into my mouth. “Jesus your mouth feels so fucking good.” 

He pulled his cock out with a pop, air rushing to my lungs, spit covering his cock and dripping down my chin. He reached down, lifting me up and setting me on the sink, the cold feeling great against my warm body. He leaned down, kissing me harshly and roughly, his hand stroking himself. “If you kept going, I would’ve busted in your mouth.” He chuckled, a smile finding its way onto my face. “I’d rather cum in this tight pussy.” My eyes widen, watching as he got down onto his knees, spreading my legs apart. “God, look at you.” He praised, reaching up and gliding a finger through my lips. I threw my head back, hitting the mirror, moaning at his fingers. “Fucking soaked.” I looked back down at him, watching him gather my juices on his finger, sucking my taste off. With a smirk, he leaned forward, dragging the flat of his tongue over my cunt.

“Oh my god.” I gasped, reaching down and lacing my hand through his hair. I tugged harshly against the strands, earning a moan from him, vibrating against my soaked center. He licked at me, swallowing my juices, wrapping his lips around my clit, letting his tongue work magic against me. “Jesus Christ.” I moaned, the sex god himself looked up at me, a mischievious look in his eyes as he continued to eat me. He moved his head side to side, sucking onto my clit. I felt my legs shaking, my thighs closing around his head as I felt the growing bundle in my stomach ready to explode.

“Negan.” I cried, feeling the waves crashing through my body. My hips bucking against his face, my legs shaking as he guided me through my climax, lapping up my cum that slipped from my dripping cunt. Negan pulled away, his tongue licking around his lips, the hair on his chin glistening from my juices. I watched as he smirked, using the back of his hand to wipe away at his mouth. He stood, a smirk on his face as he towered over me, pushing himself between my thighs, his large hands rubbing and grabbing at the them. I was breathing heavily, watching as he studied me, looked over my body. He was taking mental pictures of me as I sat there, legs spread, needy and willing to take his cock.

“You want this?” he asked, wrapping a large hand around his cock. I looked down, groaning at how red the tip was, precum leaking out. I watched as he reached up, his thumb collecting the liquid and rubbing it over his cock. I nodded, drooling at the sight before. “Nuh uh.” Negan smirked, hooking a finger under my chin, lifting me to look at him. “Use your words, baby girl. Do you want this?” He asked, taking a step closer, rubbing the head of his tip against my clit, slapping it down. I jerked against him, whimpering.

“Yes Negan. I want your cock. Please.” I begged, spreading my legs wider, a smirk on my face as Negan groaned, looking down between us. “I need you to fill me up.” With a growl he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me to the edge of the sink, lining himself up to my entrance. 

“We can stop now.” He reminded me, looking down at me. “Act like it never fucking happened and-” I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling me to me. He thrusted into me, both of us groaning loudly. His cock stretching me, the slight pain only mixing with pleasure.

“Shut up and fuck me.” I whispered into his ear. 

“Fucking dirty girl.” He smiled, slowly pulling out, leaving the tip in me and thrusting back in. A small scream left my lips, the girth and size of him stretching me wider and better than I’ve ever been stretched before. “Holy shit, your so fucking tight.” He groaned, grabbing a hold of the back of my head, keeping me to him as he buried his head into my neck, and his cock in my cunt. A string of ‘please’ left my mouth, the tip of his cock hitting my g-spot each and every thrust. 

We both breathed deeply, our moans and breaths mixing together, sweat rolling down our backs as he completely let ourselves go to the feeling of one another. 

Negan slid his arms under my legs, hooking my knees on his arm, tugging me closer to him, holding me as I sat on the edge of the sink, spreading me even wider for his cock, hitting deeper than before. “Negan.” I cried, feeling almost like he was splitting me in half, and if that’s the way I go out, that’s the way I go. 

“Take it baby, Take this cock.” he moaned into my ear, thrusting harder. The sound of skin slapping filling the air. I knew by the end of this, this bathroom was going to be smelling like sex. “Finally being in this pussy feels like fucking heaven.” He moaned, thrusting hard, his balls slapping against my ass. 

“Don't stop, Negan.” I cried, feeling the growing climax in my stomach. “Please, don’t fucking stop, You feel so fucking good.” I begged, wrapping my arms around his neck, digging my nails into his back. He groaned, thrusting harder as I dug my nails in. “I want you to cum in me.” I whispered in his ear, Negan’s thrust losing rhythm, a guttural sound coming from him.

“Don’t fucking temp me.” He growled in my ear, his hands on my hips tightening. I pulled back, moving his head to look at me. He breathed deeply, hard breaths coming out and fanning over my chest.

“Fill me up with your cum. I want it.” I pleaded, clenching around his cock. He moaned, pulling out. “What?” I gasped, a small yelp leaving my lips as he grabbed my hips, flipping me around, bending me over the sink.

“Take my cock like a good girl,and you’ll get this cum.” He whispered into my ear, our eyes locking through the mirror. I nodded, watching as he stood up, grabbing onto his cock and sliding right back into me. 

We both moaned at the different angel, his cock getting deeper, my pussy clenching around his thickness as he pumped himself. He reached up, both hands grabbing onto my shoulders as he began moving, thrusting harder than before. “Fuck.” I gasped loudly, Negan’s hand coming up and covering my mouth. I watched as he lost himself in me, his eyes shut, his stomach flexing as he fucked me, his arms holding onto me as he brought both of us closer and closer to our sweet release. My legs shaking as I stood myself up, my body tensing as I felt the waves of my orgasm coming.

“You gonna cum for me?” Negan asked, his thrust hitting each and every spot. “Gonna come all over my cock, aren’t you baby girl?” I nodded, his mouth still covering my mouth as he began losing his rhythm. My pussy clenched around his cock, my ograsm ripping through me, my moans muffled from his hand as I bucked against him. “Holy shit baby.” He groaned, low deep growls as his cock twitched in me, releasing his cum into me, coating my walls in white. “Fuck fuck fuck.” Negan growled, his fingers digging into my shoulder as he pumped his cum into me. I trembled against him, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as the waves of my orgasm crashing through me, the way he filled me and the way he kept thrusting made my head spin. Negan fell against me, his sweaty chest sticking to my back as we tried to catch our breaths.

I felt like I was on cloud 9, almost like my whole body was simply weightless as I stood there, bent over the sink, with man taking a quick rest on my back. 

We stood like that for a few moments, letting each other collect ourselves. I whimpered as Negan stood, his limp cock sliding from me, the empty feeling being replaced with his cum slowly leaking out of me. “God damn, you’re looking like a fucking pornstar.” I looked at him through the mirror, the proud look on his face at the mess he made of me. I rolled my eyes, picking myself up, moaning at the soreness in my thighs. I turned leaning against the sink, watching as Negan grabbed his pants and underwear, tugging them on. He glanced at me as he fixed his belt, a smug smirk on his face. He closed the gap between us, leaning down and placing a kiss on my lips. It wasn’t like before where it was rush and heated, more of a reassuring kiss, letting me know that this wasn’t going to be far from his mind in a while. He pulled away with a smirk, reaching down and grabbing my clothes, setting them on the sink. I watched as he grabbed my shirt, fixing it and holding it up by the shoulders. “Arms up.” he smirked. I giggled as I did what he asked, lifting my arms, Negan sliding the shirt and dressing me. He gave me a small smile down at me, watching as I reached for my panties tugging them on and then tugging my pants up. 

I tried to ignore the fact his cum was now dripping into my underwear, but also the fact there wasn’t any awkwardness between us. It almost felt like what was going on was natural, that we’ve done this a million times before. He quietly watched as I grabbed my shoes slipping them, watching my every move.

“So what now?” He asked, watching as I stood before the mirror, fixing myself. I sighed, the guilty feeling settling in, the fact that I just cheated on Adam filing my thoughts. I turned towards him, his thin tall figure leaning against the door, the leather jacket back on, a look of pure satisfaction on his face. 

“I don’t know.” 

~~~~~

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[notyetneedcoffee]

Glasshouse

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Nothing – this one is a load of FLUFF

Written for the @cake-writes 1k followers challenge. Thanks for the prompt!  

ooooo

“You’re fidgeting.” Pepper Potts smirked into her champagne.

Crossing your feet at the ankles, you tugged at the hem of your lavender cocktail gown. Cool air circulated through the back of the limo, but you wished you could roll the window down for fresh air. “You know I’m not very comfortable in dresses.”  

“Well, I think you look lovely.” Tony Stark smiled.

“Thanks, but I know I look alright. I just prefer my jeans and boots.” You winked.

“Yeah,” Tony half turned to his girlfriend. “How come she gets away with the casual attire. How many times did force me into a suit?”

Pepper smiled. “No, I just tried to make sure you weren’t wearing the clothes from the night before. Y/N can dress however she wants. She’s my PA. She doesn’t work for the company. Besides, even in jeans she’s always stylish.”

“Thanks, Pep.” You grinned. “I’m really looking forward to this. I’ve always wondered what it looked like at night. Thanks for the invite.”  

“No problem. It’s a great event.”

The limo pulled onto the road along the edge of the New York Botanical Gardens. It lined up with the other cars for a drop off at the steps of the Enid Haupt Conservatory. You could see the enormous Victorian-style glass house. The late afternoon sun shone off the panes.  

“Is there going to be anyone else there that I know?” You asked.

“Joseph, Mike and Rachel from the CFO office with be there. Kim from the gallery is coming, too.” Pepper thought.

“I gave tickets to Rhodey Nat, Bruce and Cap.” Tony finished off his drink. “Although, I don’t know if they’ll come.”

You took a slow drink, silently hoping one in particular did.

As your limo pulled up to the Conservatory, you smiled. The entry courtyard looked beautiful with extra pots of late summer flowers, six foot candelabras with flickering electric bulbs, and a long carpets rolled out for guests.  

Tony got out first, smiling for the photographers. He held his hand out for Pepper, who gracefully slid from the car. They posed for just a moment. Tony then reached out a hand for you. You forced a calm smile onto your face. Stepping out, you managed to not fall.  

Inside, the scent of earth and oxygen rich perfumed air hit you in the face. You loved it here. The botanical collection dated back more than a hundred years, and the building reminded you of the giant Victorian glass house like those in Kew Gardens in London. Ran or shine, this garden was perfect.  

Tonight, tall cocktail tables speckled the area allowing for people to set down their drinks. Wait staff wove between guests with trays of champagne or wine. Some trays were full of hors d’oeuvres. You wondered away from Pepper and Tony, more interested in the flowers than the business associates.  

As you made it to the Desert displays, after walking through the orchids, you spotted Steve Rogers. He wore a perfectly tailored dark blue suit, his tie a bit loose. He held a full glass of champagne. You stopped, watching for a moment because the look of complete panic in his eyes made you want to laugh.

Four lovely, but heavily made up, young ladies crowded closely around him. Their clothes were very expensive, and if you were any judge, so were their hair extensions. They beamed up at the super soldier, practically draping themselves over him. He looked immensely uncomfortable.  

Few people wandered this far from the center of the conservatory, where the party was most dense. You wondered if he’d come out here to get away from the crowd. Perhaps the quartet ambushed him. An idea brought a smile to your face and you turned back the way you’d come.  

Finding what you needed, you turned around and marched straight towards Steve. At the last second he saw you coming and stepped back from the women as much as he could without stepping into the plant beds. Holding out the glass in your left hand, you slid yourself between one of them and tucked yourself into Steve’s side.  

“Here you go, Babe. I told you I could find you a beer even at a function like this.” You smiled up at him, trading him the beer for the champagne.

Even though he’d only met you in passing a several times over the months, Steve easily fell into your ruse. “Thank you, Sweetheart.” He pulled you a little closer and kissed your temple. Taking a long draw off the glass, he sighed. “So much better. Mmm,” He licked the head of the beer from his lips. Your eyes following his tongue. “Y/N, this is Britney, Rachel, Sarah, and Ashley.”

“Girls.” You nodded with a smile. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“I didn’t see you come together.” Sarah smiled coldly.  

“I came straight from work.” Steve answered immediately.

“So, I just rode with Tony and Pepper.” You finished.  

“Oh,” She looked deflated. “We didn’t realize you were involved. It’s never been reported.”

“Benefit of working with a bunch of spies.” You smiled into your champagne.  

Steve laughed. It was a warm genuine laugh. His hand, comfortably resting on your opposite hip, pulled you a little closer. He smelled wonderful, woody, spiced, and rich. You hand slipped under his jacket to rest on his lower back.  

“Well,” Rachel gave a tight smile. “You make an adorable couple. I could really use a fresh drink.”

The others agreed and the four soon wondered off, leaving you and Steve standing alone among the cactus and aloe. He pulled you a little closer. You could see the pulse beat at his neck. His tongue slid over his lush lower lip. In the time you’d known him, you’d never been able to just admire him.  Doing so this close practically took your breath away.  

Steve’s breath tickled your ear. “I owe you.”  

“Yes,” You giggled. “Yes, you do. The look on your face when I walked down here was priceless. You looked like cornered prey.”

“I didn’t want to be rude, but they were coming on pretty strong.” A light flush colored his neck. Even though the reason for your ruse had walked away, he still kept you close with his hand on the small of your back. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“No problem.” You smiled. A part of your mind marveled at how utterly comfortable his touch felt. “This is a great suit, by the way. You wash up pretty well.”  

He beamed. “Got to wear something other than a uniform once in a while.” Steve’s eyebrow quirked up, he leaned very close to your ear. “I’ve never seen you in a dress before, completely took my breath away.”  

You pulled back and looked him in the eye, somewhat surprised.  

“You’re lovely anytime,” he grinned, expression softening. “But you look particularity stunning tonight.”

“Wow, thank you.”  

Steve led you around the beds of plants, walking slow. “I’m sorry we’ve never really had the chance to talk much. Every time I’ve seen you, you’re in and out before I’ve had the chance to say anything.”

“The only time I ever get over to the compound is when Pep needs Tony to do something. And running him down is like chasing a toddler who’s eaten too much candy.” You giggled.  

He laughed. “That’s pretty accurate. He thinks highly of you, though. Which is saying something. There’s not many people Tony compliments for their intelligence.”

You gave him a sly smile. “Sure. He’s just worried I’m going to reprogram his shower to go ice cold at random intervals, or that I’ll have all his suits taken in by a half inch.”

Steve’s laugh drew the attention of a few people milling around. He pushed his fist against his mouth, trying to hold it in. “I would pay money to see Tony freak out because suddenly nothing fit.”

“Oh, he would never say a word.” You chuckled. “He would just drink more of those awful concoctions instead of eating, and work out like mad, and have F.R.I.D.A.Y. do all sort of body scans.”

“You’ve thought about this too much.”

“Got to keep my mind occupied while I’m waiting on his preening before events. He takes twice as long as Pepper.” You tossed him a sideways grin.  

As you walked slowly through the plants with the warm air carrying the complex earthy smells, the hand on your back held your complete attention. His palm was hot, you could feel it through the fabric of your dress. The urge to lean into him felt overwhelming.  

“You know,” taking a sip of champagne, you steeled your nerves. “You can always call me sometime… if you want to talk.”

Steve stopped, looking around. He took you by the arm and led you behind a gorgeous display of purple and pink orchids. “That would be okay?” The innocent question in his eyes made your heart flutter. You nodded. He smiled. “Okay. I’d really like that. Although you know, I never know when I’ve got to go…”

You touched his chest, stopping his words. “Believe me, after spending the last year and a half working with Pepper, I complete understand how chaotic your life can be. It’s not a problem.”

His blue eyes studied you, intense yet curious. Moving a piece of your hair away from your face, his thumb barely brushed your cheek. Such a tiny gesture, such a delicate sensation, yet you needed to fight the urge to moan.  

“I suppose you would.” A soft smile curved his lips. “It’s not exactly something you can just explain to some one. Would you like to go for a walk?”

“Yeah,” you tucked your hand into his arm and set your glass on a nearby table. “I would like that.”

Steve set down his own glass and covered your hand with his own.  He led you out of the ornate iron and glass doors. Wondering slowing along the path, the difference between the warm air of the glass house and the cooling air of park made you shiver. He stopped, and removed his jacket. Before you could object, Steve’s suit jacket was settled over your shoulder. The scent of him becoming stronger.  

You sighed. “Thank you.”

He stood directly in front of you, pulling the jacket closed. You watched a pinched line form between his brow. “I need to confess something.”

“Oh?”

“We, um, we may not have had much chance to talk,” the pink flush touched Steve’s neck again. “But, I do, um, know a fair amount about you.”

“Have you been checking up on my file?” You teased, faking shock.

He smiled, biting his lip. “At first, but I saw the reference to your past times, and that led to that website with all your sketches.”

“My Instagram?”

“Ah, yeah. You’re really good.” He tucked your hand into his arm again and turned you towards the roses and conifers. “I like your pencil work. You have a great eye.”

“A what does Steve Rogers know about art?” You glanced sideways at him.  

A wide smile spread across his face as he looked up into the trees. He sighed.

“What?”

“It’s just that you asked ‘what does Steve Rogers know’ not ‘Captain America’.” He couldn’t wipe the smile away.

“It’s who you are.” You stated plainly, although the way he beamed was infectious.  

“Yeah,” Steve stopped, taking your hands into his own. “But people tend to forget there’s a man beneath the uniform.”

You nodded, knowing it to be true. “I don’t need to be reminded of that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve sighed. “And it’s really nice.”  

You giggled. “And you’ve avoided the question.”

“Oh,” He shrugged. “I draw a little, too.”

“Really,” Your fingers wound in his. “What other secret talents do you have? And don’t say bench pressing a BMW, because that’s not a secret.”  

Steve laughed. Holding your hand, you began your walk through the garden again. “Um, I like to bake bread.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I used to help Bucky’s Ma back in the day. I still remember how. There’s just something about filling the house with that smell, you know?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“What about you? Any other secret talents?”  

“You cannot tell Tony about this one.” His brow popped up, but he nodded. “I know Shiatsu. I give a killer massage.”

“Really?” Steve’s grin turned devious.  

“Any more secrets?” You leaned into a little closer.  

“Oh, I’m full of secrets.” His voice dropped just a little. You involuntarily licked your lips. Damn.

“Yeah.”  

“M-hm” Steve’s eyes drifted between you eyes and you mouth.  

“Like what?”

“Like I’ve been dying to kiss you since you called me Babe.”

Your lips parted in a silent ‘oh’ just as he leaned close. Steve’s lips brushed yours, a gentle and soft touch. His hand slid along your waist. Pulling back enough to look into each other’s eyes, he smiled before pulling you closer. Kissing you more thoroughly, his tongue tentatively touched your lip and you opened eagerly for him.  

His other hand slid to the back of your neck, as the keep deepened. You leaned into his strong body, feeling his muscles beneath the smooth shirt. A small moan escaped your throat as his teeth lightly tugged at your lower lip. Steve broke the kiss, only to rest his forehead against yours.  

“Whoa.” You grinned, wanting wrap yourself around him, surprised at the intensity of your reaction.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “So, um, it may be a little old fashioned but can I ask you to be my girl?”

You kissed him again, pulling him close and molding your body against his. Smiling against his lips, you purred. “I can definitely do with a little more ‘old fashioned’ in my life.”

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