#she reorganised my tea???

[yousaytomato]

Living with a hoarder who fills every inch of every communal space full of their own useless stuff, but who will then spend the day going through the tiny storage space you use and control, throwing things out and reorganising without even asking <3

[bangtanhoneys]

Magic Shop - Grace

[BTS WEVERSE] GRACE started their LIVE: How are you feeling?

ARMY got their notification as it came through to their phones in the middle of the afternoon in Seoul. It had been awhile since Grace had been seen, heard or even mentioned since all members of BTS had enlisted with the military, Jungkook & Jimin the last two to go. Fans had taken to messaging or commenting on Instagram posts or on LIVE videos of TXT, CL, Seventeen and IU to see where Korea’s noona was. 

The background didn’t belong to any studio or a modern apartment like ARMY were used to seeing from BTS. It looked homely, warm, unique and with a hint of British to it. She was sitting in a brown leather office chair, dressed in a jumper but with a cardigan wrapped around her and a blanket thrown over her legs. 

As always, she was cradling a cup of tea.

The video was muted as she turned to her left, said something then nodded before turning her attention to the screen in front of her which was then when the video was unmuted. 

“Good afternoon, ARMY. How are we doing?” she asked, shifting so she brought a knee up to rest her mug on as she leaned forward to see the screen.

“You’re feeling sad? Hungry. You’ve got homework to do, ooh someone is about to go on a date. Well have a lovely time. Sad, sad, sad,” Grace read through the fast incoming comments. 

“I’m feeling sad,” she admitted as she smiled slightly. “As you know, the boys have gone to do their duty for the military. I’ve seen them all off now so I don’t know quite what to do with myself. I’ve come to stay with my parents for a little bit, Min-ji is enjoying himself with his grandparents. But I just wanted to come here and show my face, to say I’m here, I’ve not disappeared. I just needed a little while to reorganise my mind, if that makes sense?”

Grace took a sip of tea and watched the comments go up the screen, ignoring the ones that were plain stupid or the ones that only cared about one member in particular.

“Will I have contact with them? I will. Don’t worry, the group chat is alive and well. Namjoon sent a message which translated, means I’m freezing my ass off,” Grace explained as she switched to English when she saw the English comment come in. “So they're doing well. Seokjin is getting promoted left right and centre, Yoongi is having fun being a civil servant, Hobi is kicking ass and obviously our boys are adjusting. I’ve been keeping an eye on them in the best way I can. But it won’t be long till they are home. You just have to deal with me for a while.”

She laughed as the comments came in, some saying: ‘Grace noona is going to be the best ARMY leader ever’ ‘when is your solo stuff coming?’ ‘when is Seokjin coming home?’

“My solo stuff. Ah well, it’s coming. I promise. I have a lot planned but I can’t reveal everything yet. I’m under tight instructions not to say anything until it’s ready and we’re nearly there, you just need to wait a couple of months or so and then it will be here and you won’t know what to do with yourselves.”

“Am I okay?” Grace read one comment, pausing as she looked at the screen then the mug then back to the screen again. 

“No is the honest answer. I’ve been with all of them for 13 years now? Roughly. I met Namjoon first, then Yoongi & Hobi and then all of them trickled in. I’ve been at Big Hit since I was 18 or 19 and I’m nearly 34. That’s a long time. So my world since the day I signed my BTS contract has been them and now I don’t have that. They're doing their duty and I’m very proud of them but it’s hard not having one of them here, every moment of every day. So I’m adjusting to the fact that I don’t have access to all of them now. It was alright when it was just one or two but now it’s all of them.”

Grace paused and took a sip of her drink, smiling slightly. “But don’t worry about me, I’m getting there. Like all of you, we were all here and now there’s only one but I know the boys have plenty of things to entertain you with while they enlist and you’ve got my things coming as well, so you won’t be bored. In fact, you’re going to be complaining.”

It was obviously a tease and she knew exactly what she was hinting at with Yoongi’s Suchwita episode with her still to come where the announcement would be that she was coming on her birthday and then it was going to be a whirlwind from her birthday onwards and then her tour. 

So much to do, so little time but for now, she was content to sit with ARMY and just chat. 

“Sing Magic Shop,” one comment caught her eye. 

“I don’t have Jungkook’s karaoke set up but one moment, let me see what I can do.”

She untangled herself from her cocoon and went to the door, left the room and then came back with another phone. “I’ve stolen my mother’s phone so one second everyone.”

Grace closed the door behind her, just as Min-Ji slipped through the door. “Ah I guess he wants to say hello.” 

She sat back down in her chair and sorted her blankets, tapping at her lap so Min-Ji could jump up. He gracefully did so and put his front paws on the desk, sniffing at the phone that was filming her live. 

“You done? It’s only ARMY. Say hello.”

He gave a soft meow as he turned and made biscuits in her lap while she searched on her mother’s phone for the Magic Shop karaoke version. 

“Okay, here we go. So everyone, I’m fine, sad as you are but I’m here if you need me. Just shout my name on WeVerse and I’ll come running - no matter what you need, what you want to ask, what you want to see, don’t hesitate to contact me, okay? After all, I’m in charge of the Magic Shop now,” Grace smiled as she lifted her hand to show her heart fingers. “I love you all.”

ARMY were left with Grace singing her version of Magic Shop to them, which the clip would be later uploaded to Twitter with many asking for Grace to release it for ARMY as a present. 

[atinygoblin]

Hi, yesterday was a frustrating day. I live at home with my parents and my younger sister. (#4)

My relationship with my parents is difficult, our personalities clash a lot and there not much trust between us. Growing up, home life was always difficult. No money, four kids, parents always working. Stress levels was HIGH.

My mum is the perfect manipulator and gaslighter. She would purposely make us feel bad and then play the victim when we would stick up for ourselves. Which then her behaviour would change and would become so passive aggressive. Leaving us walking on eggshells around her and never really trusting her because we never knew how she would react.

On the other hand, my dad was always at work. Working 2 jobs, day and night, means I never really got to see him so I having a bond with him was difficult. I can’t be mad at the situation because he was the reason we had food in our belly’s. When he was home, he was tired and if we did something that he didn’t like - he was explosive. An angry man. Just very aggressive and with his explosive behaviour, we couldn’t trust him because we were walking around on egg shells.

As we’ve gotten older, my dad is less aggressive but now really defensive and my mum is in charge of everything. If she doesn’t like something, he will kick off about it. But about 2 years ago, my dad cheated on my mum. It was during the 2nd lockdown when we all found out and having to live in the same space as them was traumatic. There was no escape from them.

That’s why it’s hard to trust them.

Nothings ever been worked out, we all just ignore it and try carrying on. Me and #4 do not get involved. It’s not our relationship, therefore don’t bring us into it. We had to become their therapist and quite frankly, we are done with it.

I’m never really home but when I am, I’m constantly cleaning up their mess around the house. I don’t mind, because it keeps me busy but some of their mess makes no sense so I get frustrated. I’m organising everything and just getting angry because what they think makes sense, doesn’t in fact make sense. So I’m questioning “why!?” - All the time.

Yesterday, I was organising the fridge. My dad is the one that cooks but he is a mess. He makes a mess. Nothing in the kitchen makes senses. So I reorganised the fridge this time because it was a mess. Everything was on top of everything. It was salmonella’s wet dream of cross contamination.

This is when I saw that we have some pak Choi about to go out of date and I was like “what a perfect time to make something fresh, healthy and from scratch.” I wasn’t at work and I looking cooking so I was excited.

I called my sister #1 about what to cook, that I can incorporate pak Choi and her and her partner suggested chok which is a rice porridge/soup dish. Super easy, super cheap and super exciting to make. She gave me a bit of ginger and I literally had everything else at home to make it with.

I steamed all my vegetables and made the chok and it was really nice. Not my favourite thing I’ve made but it was still really nice. Everything tastes better when you’ve made it though. And I cooked it for everyone to have for tea. Everyone is always going on how they want something new and healthy to try and I’ve literally just made it.

When my mum finished work, we saw sister #2 and her baby ( lil cutie ) and on the drive back my mum was like “ohh what should we have for tea?”

“I’ve already made tea for everyone” I said in the back of the car. “I made it all from scratch, you should at least try it. I got the recipe of #1 and her partner”

“Eww noo, I don’t want that, I want some proper food” she replied back.

I replied back with silence.

I was so angry and upset that no one wanted to eat what I made them. They drove to Tesco’s and picked up some pizza for themselves and that only upset me more. When we got home they cooked it immediately and left food on the side. My mum was like “ohh help yourself, there’s loads left over” which translated to me that what I cooked wasn’t real food. They didn’t even try it. I was just like “I’ve already eaten mum, I don’t need more food.”

To be so excited to cook something for everyone, to have it all thrown back in my face, I was so frustrated. To know that I tried and no one wanted to even taste it literally just broke my heart. I was angry because it was such a waste and it was so ungrateful of them.

My dad makes some atrocities in the kitchen and we still have to eat it. Force fed in all fairness because we get guilt tripped into it because “it’s wasteful�� and it’s “ungrateful” because“ I just spent ages cooking that” so “you will eat it”. Hypocrites! That’s what angered me the most. The hypocrisy of them frustrated me to the point I couldn’t even look at them, there was no need for any of that, and then they waste their money on frozen pizza!?

What hurts most, is that I tried to do something nice for them. The gesture was never even taken into consideration either. Not even “Thanks for cooking for us, but we’re going to have something else”. No. Wasn’t even recognised. It really makes me question why I even try. I said to #4 that it was the last time I’m going to do anything for them but I know I was lying.

Our relationship is difficult, but I try and they don’t so what am I supposed to do?

[smol-grey-tea]

Secret Ending Three - Chapter Four: Options

Been ages since I've done any writing. Finally sat down to get some done.

I did some research into Korean culture for this chapter. The stuff that Lance says about school looks to be true, from what the internet has told me.

It's funny. My teddy bear's hand in mine, I'm sitting here at Banjul. A cafe. Places famous for the clutter and mess of food. Facing me is my silver haired doll, looking down at the papers he's placed on the table. The surface is clear of crumbs and completely spotless, now covered in notebooks and forms, all ordered neatly beside each other. It's all colour coded and even the pens sit next to each other in their black-blue-red order.

"Now, I've written up, in detail, what each option for us entails. Facts are written in black, opinions are written in blue. Pros on the left, cons on the right. In this folder is all the information you need about the academy, while this folder has information about jobs or other opportunities. Here is a pad for your own notes. Any questions..? Yes, Red?" "When can I go to the bathroom?" "You should have gone during lunch." "But I didn't need to go then!" "Fine," Lance relented with a tired sigh. I think if this were my first impression of school, I'd rather just stay home.

"It looks like a lot..." he says beside me, fidgeting with his sleeves as he takes all the paperwork in front of him in. "I'll definitely be in the same class as you guys though, right?" "Oh, of course, I'll make sure of it," I reply. "In my class, there'll be you, Lance, Yeonho, Soi and Shinbi. I'm the health commissioner, meaning that Mr Yujin gets to boss me around; Soi's the class president, so she kind of represents the class and is in charge when there's no teacher, and Shinbi's the vice president... You remember Soi and Shinbi, right?" "How could I forget that noisy blonde girl who wants to be a model?" "Oh, Soi's not the model, Shinbi is. She's on loads of magazines, but her dream job is to be a full time model for this one company... Hmm, I can't remember the name of it right now, but I know it's a big one." "Yeah... I can't blame you for not knowing, it sounds really boring. Standing around, posing in different outfits. I've done enough of that." "Well, maybe it's boring to you," I considered, sipping the last of my tea. "I just know she really enjoys it... Oh, and I also really like the clothing."

"Well, alright then... But do I have to become a class commissioner or a health president too? It sounds demanding" "You don't have to have any particular role in the school, no," Lance explained, for once refusing the chance to correct someone's poor wording. "But you can if you want to. Unfortunately, those specific roles are already taken, but you can take up similar roles in clubs."

Lance flipped through the academy folder and found the section he wrote on clubs. I don't think there'll be a day that the beautiful and professional way he organises everything doesn't amaze me. There lies, first of all, a contents page, listing all the different clubs in the school. The next few pages go into more detail about what each club is about, who founded them, and other things like where it's held and when.

"I, personally, am a member of the student government. This means that I handle matters relating to the school and making sure that everything runs smoothly, like ensuring that other clubs are being appropriate and not breaking any rules in their activities." "... By cross dressing?"

I watch Lance's pale face cloud pink and smile to myself, watching his eyes find anything to focus on other than us... Heheh... I had no idea something like that might come out of my bear's mouth.

"... What?" Red, who'd returned from the bathroom, asked. "Cross dressing? What do you mean?" "Um..." I struggled to find words without almost bursting out laughing. But Lance cleared his throat, reorganising the papers. "That is none of your concern... Let us change the subject if we're done with this topic." "But-"

"School doesn't just consist of club activities and friends though. You will attend classes every day, including maths, science, Korean, moral education, social studies, practical arts, physical education, music, fine arts, and foreign languages." "Right..." says my bear, head in his hands. "Classes are fifty minutes long with a ten minute break in between and seven classes a day, beginning at eight forty in the morning, ending usually at about four thirty in the afternoon." "Uh huh..." "You will be provided with notebooks for each class and will be expected to make sufficient notes during so that you will be able to pass all the exa-."

"When can I go to the bathroom?" "... Well, the teacher will usually let you go to the bathroom if you ask-" "It's over that way, isn't it?" "Oh... You meant right now."

He stood up and walked in the direction he saw Red walking in earlier, before finally finding his way and disappearing from sight. Lance watched him silently, probably wanting to object, but instead turned his attention back to his notes with a sigh.

"Where do you think the nearest stationery shop might be? We could take him there afterwards and see if he'd like a particular set." "Oh, that's a good idea. I'm not too familiar with this area though. Maybe I'll look it up."

I opened my smartphone and flicked past the background of the seven of us to find a search engine. The clever map on my phone highlights a bunch of different shops, one that's about a ten minute walk away. I never knew before that the internet would let me see a street view of the place from my phone, as if I were there myself. There are a couple of people around and even a dog. On the left is a cute looking candy store, and on the right...

...an estate agent...

... Right. Some of the dolls might have to move. We'll probably have to use one of these.

I wonder... It wouldn't hurt to take a look, right?

The website lists properties that are near and far, small and big, cheap and expensive. It looks like there are a few properties with two bedrooms not that far from our house actually. Might some of us have to move into a place like this?

Just out of curiosity though... Just because they're pretty to look at, some of these four bedroom houses look nice. This one has two bathrooms and even has a pretty cherry tree in the back garden.

"Did you find one?" Lance's cold voice snaps me out of my trance. "Huh..? Uh, yeah. This one looks good." "..." "..." "... That's a house." "... Huh." "No stationery shops around?" "... Oh! Yeah, uh... I found one near here, yeah." "Okay, then let's go there after. But..." "Hm?"

"I'm worried." "Why?" "Hasn't he been in the bathroom for a while now?" "Oh... Come to think of it, yeah." I must have spent longer than I thought on that letting website. "Do you think he's alright?" "I don't know... Would you go and check on him?" "Yeah, I should. I'll be right back."

Through a small hallway decorated with elegant instruments and antique cutlery was just one bathroom. The red colouring above the door handle showed it was definitely occupied, and it's thankfully quiet today, so there's no queue.

I hesitantly knock. "Hey, it's me. You've been a while, are you okay?" There's a shuffle before the door becomes unlocked... Does this mean I should come in?

I'm met with the view of my bear sitting in the corner of the room, huddled into a small ball... It looks quite sad.

"I want to go home," he mumbled, barely audible. "Oh my god... Are you okay? Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?" I close the door behind me and he simply shakes his head as I cradle him in my arms.

"This isn't gonna work, I'm not good at anything. How am I supposed to go to school? I've only ever watched you at school, I've never actually been there myself. And even if it wasn't so hard, it's always so crowded. If you struggle with school and you've been doing it for years, how awful am I gonna be at it? That silver head thinks it's so easy. At least those dolls were made with the idea of going about society. I was just made to be cuddly and stay home. How am I gonna do this..."

"What? No way! I'm so sorry we made you feel that way, but I promise it's not that bad. And besides, you don't have to get straight As if it's too difficult. We can just take it slowly." "You really think so? You don't remember how that guy used to lecture you every single day and study with you for hours? How many questions you got wrong? You don't remember what he said about Yeonho being bad at maths?" "I..." "Even if it doesn't matter what the teachers think, he'll still be there when I go home. At least in the near future. I can't do it at school or at home and I'll just be bringing everyone else down with them trying to support me. It's not gonna work. Should we just give up?"

"Hey... I know how you feel. School is difficult for me too. But you can't give up when you haven't even started yet. And you don't have to be good at everything. We don't have to worry about exams anyway when we have more important stuff to worry about right now." "But Lance..." "Just... Listen. He's not gonna hurt you. He can be harsh sometimes and definitely a bit intimidating, especially when it comes to school, but he just really likes to stick to the rules. He'll understand if you're not breaking the rules just because you can. You're struggling. It's... Hmm."

Maybe I should have noticed sooner the way that he was getting so overwhelmed by what Lance was saying. And all the papers as well. Even how clean the table was. Lance sure can be a bit overbearing at times... But he doesn't mean it.

"I think it's something that we should just talk to Lance about. He's definitely the expert, right? He's even a discipline guide, so it's his job to help." "Really..?" "Yeah. Even if he can't help, it's best to be straight forward about it anyway. This is your future we're discussing here. We shouldn't just get all the facts straight about the academy, we should get the facts straight about you and how you feel too. Come on. Let's go and speak to Lance now, yeah?" "I..." I looked into his face and held my hand out to him. "Okay. Let's go." His hand is soft and warm in mine.

We didn't have to walk too far to find him though. As soon as we opened the bathroom door, there he stood in the hallway. I'd chastise him for eavesdropping, but I think this is an exception.

"Um..." He clears his throat again, hands visibly fidgeting behind his back. "So... I didn't... Well... I understand if you no longer wish to go to the academy. It's not something that's easy." I stroked the hand in mine with my thumb supportively. "Uh... It might be okay if I try going to the academy... It's just... What if I fail..."

"That's okay. I understand that I might have overwhelmed you with information and may have emphasised the negative aspects too much. I know that I've been quite insensitive towards other people in the past, but I'm working on changing that now." Lance bows his head sincerely towards us both. The ice is melting in his heart...

"I will do everything in my power to help you acclimate to the academy and will ensure that you always stay on top of classes and have enough time off if it becomes too overwhelming. I will personally give you a tour of the school on the first day and give you the highest of quality study sessions, according to your own schedule and preferences."

He straightens himself up and smooths down his clothes and my attention is once again drawn to his tidiness. His clothes had been recently ironed and even his fingernails were trimmed neatly in the same shape and size as each other.

"But I'm not saying this just to impress the owner. We are in competition, after all." I keep almost forgetting... "So I've had to start considering what my life might entail if I am not the one to win. I would like to pursue the position of student government president.

"A big aspect of being the student government president is impartiality and strict adherence to the rules. But I have learned, through Eri's help, the importance of emotions and patience. I know now that another big aspect of being the student government president is trying to understand other people's perspectives and why they might not be following the rules or meeting the highest standards."

Lance looks into his eyes, determined. I don't know how my bear's feeling, but I feel really happy that Lance is saying something so kind and thoughtful. I remember how his nickname, Ice Prince, didn't just come from his looks, but from his past attitude towards people. I'd almost forgotten that Lance hasn't always been so thoughtful. He was getting ahead of himself earlier, talking about the academy without thinking, but it was him who said he was worried. Worried about someone else...

"If you ever find yourself in a problem relating to the academy, you can always come to me. I do not mind and I can always make time to help people in need. That is my vow," he said with a final bow. "I...greatly appreciate it," my bear said, bowing back in reply.

I can't help but smile at this scene. We return to our seats and the rest of the day at Banjul goes much more smoothly. All in all, a good day. I hope I never forget these happy memories together.

[legacyofacat]

[14] Where Your Core Rests (Kongō x Reader)

Can also be found on Ao3, Wattpad, FanFiction.net and DA.

First Last

We are at the end!

I'm thankful for all the support I was shown, though, and hope that I brought you joy with that little story of mine!

Maybe we'll see each other again on my next story <3

Where Our Hearts Lie

Kongō sat beside her human, Arizona and the Old Man opposite of them, steaming cups of tea in front of each member and utter confusion in the very air.

Arizona looked like she was the one having the hardest time coming to terms with… whatever the shit this was.

Old Man stood up to get some snacks from Arizona's kitchen, petting her head when passing her Mental Model and making it blush.

Sniffing a chance, the other human addressed Arizona: "What?"

"I don't know I don't know I don't know…"

"Don't get yourself worked up!", they backpedalled immediately in fear of the next fight starting, "It's fine! I'm happy we were able to resolve this peacefully in the end!"

Ringgold, having suffered quite a good beating from Nagara (who clicked cheekily), gave a depressed string of clicks – she was ignored.

"I still got one question, though?"

Arizona nodded with a heavy sigh. Whatever, it didn't matter anymore anyway.

"Why was Nagara's Core in the attic?"

"I forgot that I had her."

"I'm sorry, you what?", Kongō interrupted.

She bristled: "I forgot that I had her", then she blushed, "I found her again when reorganising some documents."

And then panicked but she was not going to reveal this.

"Because I was already living together with the Old Man by then, I couldn't exactly bring her back and had to get her out of the house – so I spread rumours and hoped for thieves to find her and take her away."

That seemed like the only part of her plan that actually worked.

Kongō took a sip from her tea: "Why did you attack us?"

If she wanted to get Nagara out of the house so that she wouldn't attract trouble for the Old Man, then it was illogical to engage them in battle.

"They brought you back, then you dared to come back a second time."

Simply put, it brought all the pain and rage back to the surface and made it finally erupt.

The blonde looked at her silently for some time, then returned to her tea when steps sounded from behind.

Old Man, bouncing over like a damn child, placed little sandwiches before the girls and then continued to sit down again, slapping his hands on his thighs: "So, since when are you two married?"

"MPF-!", the human choked on their tea, giving Luigi the chance to steal one of the snacks while Kongō suddenly stopped moving altogether in an effort to not end up like her companion.

Since the other was still busy dying, Kongō unfroze herself, sat down her cup elegantly and said: "We're not married."

He wasn't believing her, instead giving a knowing smile and an "of course".

What's with that smile!?, the girls thought.

Kongō looked at her not-spouse: "Are you alive?"

"I appreciate", a half-dead inhale of fresh air, "how none of you even attempted to stop the cat."

"Were we supposed to?", that damn smirk again!

They gave her a look, deciding that she wasn't worth a response.

Luigi at least had the conscience to look apologetic even if he definitely wasn't.

"How did you two meet my Ari?", Old Man dared to open his happy mouth again while tugging Arizona into his side, making her blush and give a startled sound.

"The fleet", Kongō half-lied.

"Yes!", Arizona jumped into action, "we met through the fleet. Long ago. It was time to visit, right? Haha…"

Please never lie again, that was such a bad performance that the human's very shitty lying ability suddenly seemed capable of winning an Oscar.

"But! They have to go now!"

He looked legitimately sad: "Oh, why?"

Arizona's eyes flitted over to Kongō as if saying "this is your fault, get us out of it!".

It wasn’t her fault, but the whole experience was so strange that leaping over her shadow was a lower effort than continuing to withstand this conversation: "My sisters await me."

"Lui's got an appointment for his yearly check-up as well", the human supported, "it would be sad for the food to go to waste though…"

Arizona and Kongō almost had the 3rd most shocking moments of their lives.

One thought this:

It's made from nanomaterial! Don't you know how old people are!? He'll never let you leave!

The other this:

Don't say that! I thought you wanted to leave too!?

Fortunately, the Old Man reacted swiftly, put around half of the food in a little lunchbox and handed it over so that the guests found themselves slumped over back on Kongō’s deck soon.

"Human…", Kongō drawled in warning.

Said human merely beamed at their free food: "I won't have to steal food tonight~"

Kongō glared at the box now: "I can make you food too."

"Yep, but if I get it for free you won't have to work, right?", they walked away with a jump in their step, humming some random melody happily, "I'll be putting this in the storage~"

She followed after them with something that would’ve been a pout on anyone else, hovering near.

The human didn't pay any mind to it, busy with keeping Luigi from making them drop their well-earned earnings.

When they finally noticed Kongō's proud self following after them while turning a corner (almost resulting in a heart attack), they started talking about the first thing that came to mind: "That was some wild goosechase we went on, huh? I'm glad that it ended though, even if it ended up being quite uneventful in the end."

"Are you disappointed?"

They almost snorted: "By the end? No", they blushed a bit, "being inside a battle is not really exciting, you know. Ah! For a ship like you it might be – I'm sure it was a good exercise for you."

It had been fun, if she were honest. The sea was calm now, as it should be, but Kongō did miss the chance to… stretch her limbs, in a way.

"It was."

"I can imagine!", they finally stored the food away without losing anything to Luigi, "I'm honestly missing stealing things too."

Kongō gave an amused huff.

That certainly wasn't a good thing to miss either, but it had been a good deal of fun from time to time.

They gave a nervous laugh: "Don't tell that to the police, please."

"Don't worry, I will bail you out."

With what money!?, they thought, but turned around to smile at Kongō, "What are we gonna do now, Ojō-sama?"

"Hm?", she cocked her head cutely.

A blush was creeping up on their cheeks, they could sense it and cursed Kongō for it: if she wasn't being cool then she was unfairly cute and both weren't good for their heart!

"W-well! We don’t have a bigger goal anymore, so I was wondering what we were going to do now?"

"Hmmm", Kongō said again, arms crossed, "may I try something?"

"Uh", a blink, "sure?"

Kongō took a few steps forwards, gently nudged Luigi out of the way and hugged her human tightly, breathing into their neck.

They turned into a frozen tomato instantly: "O-ojō-sama!? What are you doing!?"

"You're warm", she said smiling, no doubt pleased with herself.

"It's not like you're ice cold!", her Union Core produced warmth! Really!

"I'm not simulating metabolistic functions."

True, but you're still not cold!

"Uhm", they returned her hug hesitantly, not fully believing this but all the more glad for it, "if I… if you want then, uh, you can take all the… warmth you want."

God, you're an idiot, stop stuttering!

Kongō just seemed more amused, placed a short kiss on their cheek and continued to laugh at the face she got in response.

They couldn't even form words anymore, instead just stuttering as their brain tried to reboot.

"Don't die on me", she petted their shoulders and placed their foreheads together, "I plan on having you and your little four-legged friend in my life for quite a while."

Deeply touched and redder than red, they surged forwards and closed the distance with a cute squeak. 

Kongō smiled against their lips.

[glitterisevil-blog]

Angel Cake - a short story

“Just keep the shelves tidy, help customers find things, make sure they know they can borrow books as well as buying them…oh, and make your boss a coffee now and again!” said my new manager, Cath.

It wasn’t my dream career, volunteering in a community bookshop on Trafford’s quietest high street, but that Duke of Edinburgh award wasn’t going to award itself. So here I was, being shown the ropes (and the kettle) by Cath.

I was killing some time reorganising the teen fiction, when he tumbled through the door. The fierce January gale threatened to blow him away along with his hat. He looked seven stone wet through, with tracing paper skin and a faint smell of tobacco that clung to his weather-worn overcoat.

He moved frustratingly slowly, dragging a frail finger across each shelf, squinting through his thick glasses to make out the words on each spine.

“Go on then, don’t just stand there gawping at him – go and help him!” said an exasperated Cath.

“Can I help you with anything?” I said in my friendliest and most efficient voice. I had to say it again, only much louder the second time.

“Do you have a cookery section?” he almost shouted. “I’m baking a cake this week. Never made one in my life! The wife thinks it’s hilarious that I’m attempting my first ever angel cake aged eighty-seven!”

I directed him to the cookery section, and proudly thrust Delia Smith’s Book of Cakes into his hands.

“What Delia doesn’t know about making a cake isn’t worth knowing!” I joked, as he took the book from me and started to thumb through the pages with a look of abject concentration.

“Special occasion?” I enquired, hoping for the sake of the recipient that it wasn’t. I was sceptical at how this virgin attempt at a complicated, multi-layer sponge cake would actually turn out.

“Wedding anniversary” he beamed back at me. “Fifty years on Sunday and never a dull day” he grinned.

“Wow fifty years - is that gold?” I asked.

“Yes, I suppose we are quite old” he replied wistfully.

I flushed crimson and went to correct him, to assure him that I wasn’t casting aspersions about his age. But he seemed so beautifully lost amidst pages of meringues and roulades that I decided to stay quiet.

He fished in his pocket and found a crumpled note which he handed to me; his eyes hopeful that it would cover the cost. It didn’t.

“You can borrow books from here too you know?” I offered, hoping he’d consider this as an option. “Just leave us a few details, and then once you’ve made your cake, you can return Delia to us!”

He produced a pen from his breast pocket, jotting down his name and address in a feathery, shaky scrawl.

“I hope he comes back with that book” said Cath once he’d left, “I can just about make out his first name as Bill. The rest of it… not a clue!”

And come back he did! Bill tumbled through the door again the following Tuesday, book under his arm, ready to expand upon his chef skills.

“How did your wife like the cake?” I asked.

“She said the sponge was a bit dry but she loved it all the same” he said proudly.

“Well, it sounds like it wasn’t bad for your first attempt” I joked, “she’ll have you on that Bake Off show next!”

“She’s certainly got a taste for my cooking now” he said. His eyes suddenly dropped and he became a little less jovial. “I’m doing a lot of the cooking at the minute; her health isn’t so good you see. Anyway, she always says that good food is the path to good health. Let’s hope so eh?”

I helped him seek out a book on pies, which he faithfully returned the following week along with a new request for something on stews and casseroles.

The bookshop grew gradually busier over the coming weeks. I did some social media posts so people knew about us. We even began to serve coffee and tea as our little book-hive began to buzz with more footfall. But I mostly looked forward to Bill’s Tuesday afternoon visits and updates on his cookery projects. The benchmark of success (or failure) was always his wife’s brutal appraisal of the dish.

We’d gained some new regulars too - notably two surly older ladies who drank endless pots of tea and made scathing comments. Cath (secretly) dubbed them The Sisters Grim as they always pored over the local obituaries to see who’d died that week, and then embarked on an Earl Grey fuelled assassination of the deceased person’s character!

We were edging cautiously towards Spring when I’d suggested one week to Bill that he might like to give breadmaking a go.

“I think that Doc Hollywood chap off the telly’s done a book, hasn’t he?” asked Bill.

I smiled and dutifully went off to find what he needed. I’d maintained my habit of never correcting him.

The shop was busier than usual the following week, so much so that it was nearly 3pm by the time I noticed there’d been no sign of Bill. I wondered if he - or possibly his wife - had taken unwell. I hoped they were both alright.

Another Tuesday came and went, but Bill still hadn’t been back to see us.

As I flipped the door sign to CLOSED and cleared away teapots, I saw that The Sisters Grim had left their newspaper on the table. A notice caught my eye:

APPEAL – We’re trying to trace the family of Bill O’Donnell (aged 87)

He sadly died at Cresta Close in Altrincham on Wednesday 9 February. There are no suspicious circumstances surrounding his death.

His late wife Jean (a retired cook at Springwood Primary School) passed away in 2018 and was his last known relative. Anyone with information about his next of kin should contact Trafford Police.

[calistaemmanuel]

daphnemontagu​:

For: @calistaemmanuel

Where: Daphne & Calista’s Home. The Shipyard.

Time period: Present day

Ever since she had been released from her capture those three years ago, Daphne had fallen into a routine inside their set of walls that kept her mind occupied, instead of venturing to a place she couldn’t be free of. When morning came she would leave Calista with a soft kiss, retreating from where the other woman’s fingers were comfortingly laced into her hair to find a space in their living area to practise her yoga. She would put the radio on, find a station with no news broadcasts and only music, and let it play softly in the background as she later made a cup of tea that she’d inevitably leave on the side, untouched. She’d fill her days with painting, pottering around their home and reorganising the belongings they’d managed to acquire somewhere between all the madness, and try to pretend that the outside world didn’t exist at all.

She was organising some cups into size order, listening to the music that played in the background, when she heard Cal’s footsteps. “You’re not going out, are you?” Daphne asked softly, turning her back on the cupboard to set eyes on Calista. The woman still made her feel a phantom flutter in her heart and a blush on her cheeks, despite the madness in the world, and the thought that they could die at any moment. “I was hoping you would dance with me instead.” Daphne smiled, stepping in closer to curl her fingers gently into the fabric of Cal’s clothes, “Please?” She murmured, placing a soft kiss beneath her jaw.

She tended to humor Daphne when they woke from the slumber they both did and didn’t need, pretending to be asleep still or at the very least caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness while Daphne slipped from the bed to patter around the living area. Calista would spend a good amount of time simply lying there, listening to the muffled sounds, letting them reassure her that Daphne was right there, safe within the walls of their shared home all while allowing the other woman a modicum of space and freedom. She knew she could be overbearing and controlling but she had lost Daphne before and she couldn’t - wouldn’t - lose her again.

Tracing Daphne’s steps, Calista picked up yet another still full but already cold cup of tea to dispose of it in the sink. She was fairly certain Daphne never even took as much as a sip but continued to restock their supply regardless. “I don’t have to,” she responded quietly, head tilted to the side as she studied the woman before her. Always a little frazzled, skittish and nervous these days. She loved her still, more than anything, but there was never a moment when Calista’s heart wasn’t breaking for her.

“Dance with you?” She echoed, allowing Daphne’s touch to coax a smile onto her lips. She would have to go out to find another soul to feed on eventually - to ensure that she was able to protect Daphne from whatever the universe decided to fling at them next - but she could probably go a little while longer. Slipping her left hand into Daphne’s right, Calista lifted it skywards to twirl Daphne around and back into her. “Why of course, my love.” Settling her other hand on the shorter woman’s back, she dipped down to steal a quick kiss before she guided Daphne into the well-practiced steps, humming along to the song as they went.

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Poco a poco forte

In collaboration with @bethanysnow (whose askbox is always open!)

Jealousy was never a good look with stardust in the other’s eyes. Boundaries are tested. Fantasies are made hot and heavy with some alcohol. Will they make it back to the hotel all in one piece?

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 5845

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei  @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut​ @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys @luvbadass @buttercup-beeee @navs-bhat @etaerealboyv  @tryymebitch @mell-bell @fenhakwe @solacestyles @softforlukescurls @vicsangel @theimpossiblehologramtree​

***

Copenhagen was a whirlwind that barely left any time to breathe. Even the short break Y/n was granted in between was promptly used to make a dash for the nearest tourist shop. Adding a fridge magnet to her growing collection. No misses so far. She’d be lying if she wasn’t proud of it. Victoria gave a little tour through the city, giving ample opportunity to provide the fans with content via various social media platforms. A mad scramble back to the venue, soundcheck, dinner. A gig full of little mishaps, including Ethan losing a drumstick halfway through and Damiano almost tumbling off stage. At least the crew had gotten into a groove, ‘new tour’ jitters finally forgotten. That night, at the hotel, Y/n had found herself standing outside her door, empty ice bucket in hand. Somewhat wondering, hoping, someone would join her. Not just anyone. Him. But she wouldn’t knock on his door and he didn’t come to hers. It wasn’t to be. At least not that night. 

The morning had brought the band another wake-up call from Y/n. Everyone was starting to settle into their routine. Get ready, get on the bus, get handed coffee by Y/n. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying this little comfort of domestic bliss, taking care of the people she was starting to consider friends. It felt right.

***

Damiano’s morning wasn’t quite as peaceful. His thoughts were plagued by images of Y/n. His decision to ‘cool it’ and back off a little seemed to be biting him in the arse. When she had come around to wake him up, she had been in a partially sheer blouse, black jeans and boots and he thought she looked like the perfect little alternative housewife. Luring him out of bed with the promise of coffee and breakfast. Now he was sitting on the couch on the bus, watching Y/n fly around the little kitchenette and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her bum in those jeans.

Nope, he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Not now. The conversation with Victoria two nights ago was still ringing in his head. He had decided she was right - no use in pursuing anything unless he was certain what he was feeling and what he wanted out of it. He would still have enough time to make his move once he figured it out. Right? He didn’t know what Y/n was thinking. Or what she thought of him, so no use dwelling on it. Still the thought struck him, he barely knew anything about her. He should probably talk to her more. Infallible logic, he thought to himself. Backing off and talking to her at the same time. Great.

“Y/n… how do you usually take your coffee, by the way?”

“Lots of creamer, usually. Sometimes a bit of sugar, if I’m feeling fancy. Or if I’m feeling really fancy at a café, I might get a caramel macchiato.”

“Caramel is always nice.” Of course, she would like caramel, he thought to himself. “Do you normally drink coffee or are you more or stereotypical British tea drinker?”

“I enjoy a cuppa when I’m home, definitely. Italians aren’t exactly known for their tea now, are they?” A smirk appeared on her face, maybe a little baffled by the conversation, but happy to humour him. “Lady Gray is a particular favourite. Followed by breakfast tea with some sugar and milk. Before coffee. I can make you some tea sometime if you fancy?”

“That’d be great. You know, I just had an amazing idea actually,” Damiano grinned. “When we first went to Berlin, there was this amazing tea shop - would you want to go when we have the gig there?”

“That sounds lovely,” Y/n replied. “Of course.”

Another step closer to getting to know her.

***

“Right, we’ve all got an hour until soundcheck and some press things, I’m gonna go take Chili on her walk, you lot do whatever you want until then.”

Y/n had expected a few non-committal grunts, a wave, maybe a “see you later, I’ll go have a nap”, but instead, the whole band seemed to be on their highest energy levels. All of them immediately scrambled to their feet, looking for shoes and jackets, proclaiming they wanted to see the city, maybe take some pictures for Instagram along the way. Y/n wouldn’t dare complain about the company.

It didn’t take them long to reach the harbour, walking along the river as they enjoyed the bustle of town and the view. Y/n found herself pulling out her phone, telling everyone to gather around her.

“I’m no photographer, but I do need some memories of all of this. Thomas, stop pulling that face!” Thomas quickly dropped the grimace as she took the picture, the historic old town in the background. Chili was busy running around between the five of them, loving whoever gave her the attention the most. Y/n thought Victoria was reaching for the leash, already preparing to hand it over, but instead the bassist grabbed her hand. Obviously in a giddy mood, she began swinging their intertwined hands between them as they walked. Y/n couldn’t bite back a smile. She had missed having a close friend ever since she had moved to Italy leaving her best friend behind in the UK and she felt like this blossoming friendship with Victoria could truly begin to fill the void in her heart.

The blonde girl pulled her into a deep hug as Chili decided to go bother Ethan instead.

“I want a photo with just you,” Vic explained, pulling out her own phone for a snapshot. Y/n complied with a sigh but wrapped her arms around her, ready to take the picture. Right as the click went off, Victoria pressed a kiss to her cheek, taking her by surprise. Neither of them could hold back a giggle at her face in the photo.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, by the way,” Y/n spoke up as a little break in the conversation offered itself. If only to distract from the affection and it worked perfectly. All eyes and ears on her. “I’ve booked a little dinner for tonight. But not just any dinner. A burlesque one!”

The group let out various cheers. Thomas immediately ran ahead of the group, shamelessly faking a striptease as they kept walking. Damiano made sure to record the performance, already giggling to himself. Thomas was in the middle of shrugging off his jacket, walking backwards, when - ouch! - he bumped into a pole, heavily bonking his head. Everyone erupted into hysterical laughter, and after rubbing the back of his head with a pour for a moment, even the guitarist joined in.

“You alright?” Y/n asked breathlessly, trying to hide the giggles in her voice, genuinely concerned about him still.

“Besides the fact that I just got all of you to drop your panties for me? I’m great!” The blond grinned at his own joke, as everyone else rolled their eyes.

“Yes! Oh my god, take me Thomas!” Damiano gasped dramatically, pushing himself up against Thomas, who grabbed onto his leg to dip him.

���Wait! Hold on!” Y/n shouted, once again grabbing her phone as the captured the moment. “Now that’s one for the fridge.”

***

Backstage was business as usual. Y/n once again took the time to watch the band soundcheck, always feeling soft looking at the way they played without having to be ‘on’, without putting on a big performance. Yet, she was still in work mode, phone displaying the name of a reporter she was waiting on, along with the name of the magazine she was working for. It didn’t take long for her to appear.

The woman was undeniably beautiful. Thin figure, long, red hair, picture perfect makeup. Even her clothes were pressed, luxury brands decorating her, adding to the pristine image. A press pass hung around her neck, acrylic nails tapping something into her phone. Leaning back, Y/n noticed the particular red leather on the bottom of the woman’s heels.

It was only after putting her phone away that she acknowledged Y/n at all.

“Anywhere I can sit down with the band?” Her eyes barely even met Y/n’s.

“Uh, yeah, once they’re done with soundcheck, they will be in the greenroom,” Y/n said, mustering the woman. “You the reporter?”

“Sure, sure. Can I go there now, sit down, get ready?”

Y/n studied the press pass on the woman’s neck, making sure she was actually the person they were looking for and shrugged. “Alright, follow me.”

She led the reporter further backstage. The greenroom was fitted with a couch and a couple of chairs, a vanity in front of the mirror and makeup already carelessly thrown around. A costume rack in the back.

“Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” the woman muttered, looking around the room, obviously dissatisfied with it’s slightly chaotic state and - probably - lack of style. “That’s all I need you for, then.”

Y/n’s eye twitched, busying herself with the clothes, reorganising them to distract herself.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but rules are rules. Can’t be in a room alone, privacy reasons and all that. I’m sure you understand.” 

“Well then.” She carefully placed herself on one of the chairs, highly aware of her posture, her face, and the fact that she’d be right in view of everybody entering the room. “Maybe you can be a bit of help, then. You know, a little insider information between us girls… How into the whole, you know, rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle are they really? I’m talking, drugs, alcohol… groupies?”

It was no question as to what she was hinting at.

“Well, Damiano has a whole tattoo verifying that he hates parties. Plus, they’re not really known for that kind of stuff. And for the interview, I’d rather you stick to the approved questions that your magazine has discussed with our management. There’s no ‘insider information’ here -” Y/n was about to talk herself into a whole rant, when the door opened and the band moved into the room, joyous and hyped for the show that evening.

Victoria was the first to bounce over to Y/n, kissing her cheek, before collapsing on the couch next to her. Ethan, Thomas and Damiano followed suit. Chili had followed the band, now hopping onto the couch and making herself comfortable on Y/n’s lap. Ethan looked over at the reporter, brow raised. “You here to do the interview?”

“Oh you know it,” she winked. Y/n didn’t miss how her whole demeanour had changed and she couldn’t have been more annoyed. “Lovely to meet you all.”

She held out her hand to Ethan, the smirk never leaving her face, before greeting the others in a similar fashion. She held onto Damiano’s hand much longer than the others.

“Nice to meet you,” Damiano said, politely, sitting down as well.

“Oh, that’s no trouble at all,” she beamed at the singer. “Now, you’re here in Hamburg today, and in the part of town most notorious for having Europe’s largest red light district. Do you feel like that’s the perfect background for your gig tonight? You know, with the music you play and the way you dress - it’s not like you’ve been shy about sex in your career so far.” 

They all chuckled slightly.

“Well, sexuality isn’t something to be ashamed about, at least we don’t think so. It’s part of everyday life and part of our own experiences so we put that into music,” Victoria eloquently explained. “And what we’ve seen of the city so far has been very beautiful.”

“Well, maybe I should give you a little tour then, show you the naughty parts of town,” she laughed. “Back on topic though, I imagine touring can be hard, being away from everyone. Do you ever get lonely on tour? For friends or… something else?”

Damiano coughed. “Sure, we get lonely, like anyone else would. But we make a family out of the crew. Everyone on our team is very close to us.” Y/n could clearly see in his eyes that he knew full well what the woman was hinting at. “We love touring, so when you love something, it doesn’t feel like work.”

Ethan nodded in agreement. Y/n could see through all of them easily - none of them wanted to be there.

“Yes, of course, touring can be difficult, but we have fun, so not that bad,” Thomas added.

Y/n didn’t miss the way the reporter briefly looked over her shoulder to muster a reaction from her. “Well I’m sure you’re easily able to find some fun away from your… crew. Lots of parties on tour so far?”

At that point, Y/n was ready to rip the reporter to shreds. But she knew she had to stay professional, and the band was more than able to hold their own, so she stayed quiet. Ethan next to her sat up a little, obviously uncomfortable.

“No, we don’t party. No time.” His vision went dark as he looked at the woman in front of them. As kind and mindful as he usually was, he didn’t shy down when it came to showing his scarier side when he needed to.

“Yeah. We sometimes go to a bar on a day off, but that’s about it. Work is more important,” Victoria threw in as she put an arm around Ethan on the back of the couch.

Y/n felt a wave of pride at the way the band was holding up. It was absolutely no secret to her that they were desperately waiting for this interview to end, annoyed with the reporter and the lines she kept trying to cross, but they stayed polite and professional. She thought that this was what made them real rockstars in that moment.

“Okay, one more question, then. You entered this business really young, you still are, yet you write quite mature music, how do you manage that?”

“We write what we want to write. Perform how we want to perform. I don’t think that has an age limit,” Damiano spoke curtly. His eyes flickered over to their assistant. Y/n was sure he didn’t miss the way she was staring daggers into the back of the reporter’s skull. “And music has always been a passion of ours. We just got lucky really early in life, I guess.”

“Well thank you very much for your time,” the reporter said, standing up, and once again reaching out her hand to say her goodbyes. “Hope to see you around…” As she came to Damiano, Y/n didn’t miss how she stuffed a little note in his hand. “...hopefully.”

“Can I go kick her face now?” Y/n stood up, seething, as soon as the reporter had left the room. “Sorry, no, that’s actually rude. But I’m going to call management and report that woman.”

“Yeah, that… wasn’t cool,” Ethan contemplated. “How about you make that call and then we take your mind off it with the dinner show you booked for us, yeah?”

Y/n took a deep breath, looking at Ethan, whose eyes had turned back to show nothing but kindness. She couldn’t wait to forget about this disaster for the rest of the evening and enjoy herself. With the band in tow, she was sure she would.

***

Damiano hadn’t been quite sure what to expect from dinner that evening - but it wasn’t a table smack in the middle of the first row right in front of the stage. He should have seen it coming, really. When Y/n planned and schemed, she always made sure to get them the best of the best. Determined to make sure everyone was having fun. She truly took care of them like no other.

A waiter was at their table in no time, taking orders for drinks and food, and the openers started before Damiano even had a chance to take a sip of his wine. As soon as it became obvious that the first act of the evening would be pole dancing. The rest of the band started snickering, nudging Damiano’s side. Still, they all watched in amazement as the dancer started their performance, music filling the room.

“You know, I could do that,” Damiano whispered in Y/n’s ear as he leaned in close. She looked over at him - at the performer - back to him.

“Sure you can,” she giggled.

“Oh I can,” Damiano insisted, leaning in closer than necessary now. “And in heels.”

Y/n couldn’t stop herself from coughing, choking ever so slightly on her drink, as her eyes widened and a slight shade of pink appeared on her face.

Damiano simply couldn’t help himself. He knew he had meant to back off, give her a little space, give himself some time to think, but the words simply slipped out. “I can always offer you a private show, you know?”

This time, she only paused for a moment before whispering back, “You teach me pole dancing, I’ll teach you rumba, yeah?”

Fuck, he hadn’t expected her to get the upper hand so quickly. Still, he never once lost his smirk, murmuring a “sure” back at her. She had gotten back her cool, focusing back on her meal now, only looking up to watch the performance every now and then in between bites. She was making it way too hard for him to back off. He wondered if she knew what she was doing to him.

Leaning back into his chair, Damiano watched the performer on stage. They were beautiful, no question about that. Amazing at what they did. It was impossible to keep your eyes off them, even Y/n kept getting distracted. He wondered if she’d look at him the same way if it was him up there. Or if he did a little show himself that night, on stage at their own gig. Catching her attention like the dancer was doing now. Maybe making her lose her mind a little bit. It was worth a try…

The performance was over much too quickly for his liking and only shortly after, the main dancer of the evening was announced to go on stage soon. It didn’t take long for the lights dimming, before fading to black completely. A hush falling over the crowd. A spotlight found a petite, blonde bombshell in the middle of the stage. Perfectly sculpted hair, blue boa feather skirt, a glitter corset that dripped with silver and gold accents. She seemed to be glistening under the stage light, body glitter accenting all the right curves and features. Then she turned around.

Damiano’s jaw dropped - along with just about everyone else’s. She was così bella, un angelo. She walked to the front of the stage as the crowd cheered and whistled. Damiano was enraptured by her. She was mystifyingly beautiful. Each move was carefully planned out, knowing exactly what she was doing and how to do it. She was feeding off the crowd, spurred on by the shouts and comments, as she moved across the stage.

Damiano’s eyes followed her closely. He felt hypnotised by her performance. He had never given burlesque much thought, but this show was changing his mind rapidly. The only thing to pull him out of his was a sigh - a disgruntled noise maybe - coming from his left. It was hard to make out Y/n’s face in the dark, he realised as he turned towards her. But if he’d learned anything about her body language in the past days, he was certain that she wasn’t happy. Her arms were crossed in front of her and she was leaned back in her chair in a way that tried to suggest she wasn’t bothered. But she was. He just couldn’t figure out why.

He was distracted when the dancer was back in front of their table, looking down at them from the stage. She sent all of them a wink, before pulling the elbow-length gloves off one by one and throwing them to the side with a smile. She mesmerised him, even as she moved away from them to give another table some attention. Yet, Y/n was playing at the back of his mind.

Why did she seem so mad? She was the one who had booked this dinner, why wasn’t she having fun? Was she still preoccupied with the reporter from before? Sure, that one had definitely stepped over lines, but he thought they’d all gotten out of there pretty unscathed. And the reporter's number had wandered into the bin immediately. He considered the matter closed.

The woman on stage slowly lowered herself into a split, causing pretty much the whole audience to lose their minds. This was too good. More cheers and applause from everywhere. Damiano heard Vic shouting vague words of encouragement as the woman lost her bra, only pasties covering her nipples now. Y/n let out a little groan and from the corner of his eye, he could see her rolling hers. This time, Damiano wasn’t the only one who noticed. He watched as Victoria and Ethan exchanged looks, then nods, and finally shrugs.

Finally the performance ended, the dancer leaving the stage with another wink and kiss blown towards them. Damiano wished it could’ve gone on for longer. These people knew how to turn sex into art, and he’d by lying if he said it didn’t inspire him.

“Okay, gather up, no time to waste,” Y/n order, getting up from her seat the second the lights were turned back on. “You have a show to play and I don’t want you to be late.”

Damiano threw another look around. Even Thomas, who had been too preoccupied drooling over the dancer to notice anything else, was now staring at Y/n questioningly.

“What’s going on with her?” The guitarist asked as they all gathered their stuff and followed their assistant outside.

“Fuck if I know,” Damiano mumbled. “But I wanna find out, sooner or later.”

***

It wasn’t like her to be jealous. She didn’t care much about what other people found enthralling. But Damiano had looked at the dancer as if she was god’s gift to humanity. Yes, she was pretty, yes, she knew how to shake her arse. Was it all that special? The dancer was petite, a perfect fit for Damiano’s arms. A perfect figure to match his. Y/n was confident, she knew she was beautiful, but unfortunately the rest of the world didn’t always think the same. Unlike the dancer on stage. That woman was more than beautiful… She was palatable, sexy, perfect in all the ways a woman should be. Qualities that Y/n was currently convinced she didn’t possess any of.

Okay, maybe she was jealous. But she didn’t have any right to be. The dancer was simply doing her job. And so what, if Damiano had fancied her? It wasn’t like they were together. She worked for him, that was all. She didn’t have any right to want anything from him beyond that.

The fresh air hit her face as she left the venue, forcing some clarity onto her. She’d have to get a grip and get back to focusing on her job. It’s what she was there for, after all.

***

Victoria bounced over the Y/n as she left the venue, full of adrenaline and happiness from the show she had just watched.

“That was amazing, Y/n! Where did you get the idea for this being today’s dinner?” She asked, hooking onto the assistant’s arm.

“Looked up places we could go online, found this one in a travel blog. Said it had amazing wine so I thought we could check it out,” she explained without looking up from her hands, which were toying with the receipt.

“Well, you sure do have impeccable taste,” Victoria grinned and kissed her cheek. It seemed to pull Y/n out of her head enough to look up at the bassist. But Vic’s smile vanished quickly when she saw the look in her eyes. It was cloudy, gloomy, enough to make Victoria freeze up. Thomas was excitedly chattering about the show in the performance in the background, how hot he thought the performers were, especially the last dancer. Damiano eagerly agreed. Y/n’s seemed to have a flash of venom on her face, and suddenly it clicked in Vic’s mind. Oh, she knew that look well, had carried it herself a couple of times in her life.. She was jealous. Y/n was jealous of the way they all - or maybe, someone in particular - had reacted to the woman on stage. And she was doing a bad job hiding it.

As soon as the car pulled up, everyone scrambled to get it. Y/n immediately started bouncing her leg, still a stormy look in her eyes. If it didn’t seem so serious, Victoria would be amused at the state their assistant was in. Yet, with the expression on her face right then and there, the bassist didn’t dare make a joke.

Damiano was sitting next to Y/n, and Victoria desperately tried to catch his eye. It took a slight kick against his shin to get him to look at her. She flickered eyes back and forth between Damiano and Y/n, motioning him towards the woman. Hoping he would understand. Luckily, they’d long gotten used to reading the other’s face, no need for a verbal conversation. Damiano looked down at Y/n’s hands, still picking at the receipt, and he quickly grabbed one of them. Interlacing their fingers and offering her a smile when she looked up. Her leg stopped bouncing immediately.

“You alright?” He whispered.

“Yeah. Am now.”

Victoria couldn’t bite back the smile on her face, quickly turning towards her phone to be less oblivious. Those two would do just fine, sooner or later, she was sure of it.

***

The concert venue was smaller than some of the others they’d been playing on this tour, but if anything, it had caused the crowd to be even more rowdy. Y/n once again sat to the side of the stage, engrossed in her phone. Damiano snuck a peek through the curtain, before retreating and watching Y/n instead. She didn’t seem half as gloomy as she did at the dinner show. But a certain forlorn quality was still obvious. She had never been this type of obviously sad or upset before. At least not to his attention. Well, he was determined to get her to laugh tonight. Whatever had ruined her mood, he was going to fix it.

The band was getting hyped up, gathering around, some last minute fixes to their instruments among excited chatter. Yet, apparently, it hadn’t been only him who noticed Y/n’s mood. Once again sharing a look with Ethan, Victoria motioned her head over to their assistant. He nodded, before walking over to Y/n, taking her by the hand to get her to stand up, and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Victoria quickly followed suit, then Thomas, who had caught on. Damiano quickly gave a wink before kissing her forehead instead.

“For luck!” He shouted, as he ran on stage, welcoming the crowd. A quick look back confirmed a bashful smile on her face.

Everyone was on fire that night, even Y/n seemed to let go of her bad mood more and more. Damiano didn’t miss the way she sang along to their cover of ‘Take Me Out’, obviously getting into the show more than previous nights. Knowing all the lyrics, dancing ever so slightly… Damiano realised he really had it bad for her.

He decided to go for it during “For your love”. With a pointed look towards her, he slowly started rolling off one arm of his jacket. Then the other. A little mock burlesque show of his own, dramatically shimmying his shoulders as he got rid of the jacket completely. The crowd more than appreciated his little performance, judging by their screams. The rest of the band was eating his energy up, playing harder, going crazier. As Damiano jogged over to grab some water, he didn’t miss the opportunity to turn his back towards Y/n, shaking his arse in a bad attempt at twerking. Turning back, he could see that she was desperately trying to bite back a smile. But he wasn’t done yet.

Making sure she was still looking at him, he began playing with his microphone. Giving it a teasing lick and sending her a wink at the same time. Watching her as he let his hand rest on his chest, slowly wandering lower with a teasing touch, until it rested in his lap. He only managed to keep it up for a second, before he couldn’t hold back the laugh at her expression anymore and turned back towards the audience.

But apparently, Y/n had some trick of her own. Well, it seemed like she wasn’t even aware of them, but they worked on Damiano all the same. She was taking her hair out of the pony tail for the night and he thought the way it cascaded around her face was beautiful. He felt like a movie cliche, watching as the main character let her hair down and everything suddenly happened in slow motion. Yet, here she was, trying to shove a bobby pin back into place, and he was losing his shit. He thought it was ridiculous though. The crazier her hair went, the crazier he went about her. She swayed to the music and for a second Damiano could swear time stood still. 

I wonder if she likes her hair pulled… The thought distracted him to the point that he forgot what he was singing, quickly covering it up by animating the audience to sing it instead. He was glad to be nearing the end of the set. He’d never wish to go off stage, per se, but Y/n was once again occupying his thoughts and the way she was moving to the music now didn’t help.

Another song, another bow towards the audience, another well-practised “Danke!”, and they were off stage. Damiano briefly considered going over to Y/n, only to see Thomas basically chasing her away, threatening her with a sweaty hug. Her slightly panicked squeals proved she wasn’t a fan of the idea. He didn’t mind. He’d make sure there’d be more time to catch up with her later.

Briefly dropping into the dressing room, Damiano grabbed his cigarettes and a hoodie, before heading outside for a smoke. The backstage door led to a quieter alley than the famously busy Reeperbahn on the other end. But there were still more than a handful of people walking past, singing, dancing, shouting into the night, beer bottles in hand. It didn’t take long for everyone else to join him. Ethan headed outside first, bumming a cigarette off the singer, before Thomas and Victoria followed. They were once again involved in some sort of mock argument. Y/n stepped outside a minute later, phone in her hand, already back to work-mode and probably checking the plan for the next few days. Everyone was still on a high from the gig, chatting and giggling, but Damiano felt himself taking a step back. He loved watching his friends, loved what they did, loved that he got to do it with them. And now Y/n too, in a way. Not even a full week in and he knew that this tour wouldn’t have been the same without her. 

He was rapidly pulled out of his thoughts as a group of men came towards them, obviously way past drunk. Yelling and hollering for no reason but to be annoying and get everyone’s attention. Damiano hated those kinds of drunks. In his experience they were nothing but trouble. He had half a mind to retreat back inside before they reached the group, but even in their inebriated stupor; they were quicker than expected. 

“Now, who are these beautiful girls?” One of them slurred, stepping forward.

“Yeah! Bet you give a man a good time,” another one laughed loudly. “And a cheap one too.”

One of them was moving closer now, almost touching Victoria - but without even a moment to process what was happening, Y/n acted. Damiano watched, fascinated, as she grabbed the man’s extended hand, twisting it around his back and shoulder checking him into the brick wall of the alley. No second thought, no hesitation. Shouldn’t the men have been the one to react and take care of their girls? Well, it didn’t seem like Y/n was one to wait to be saved.

In a tone that he had never heard before - and neither had the rest of the band judging by their reactions - Y/n spoke, “You couldn’t afford me, mate. Or my friends. So I’d take your piss drunk self elsewhere, m’kay?”

The men were gone faster than lightning, stumbling to find their footing as they ran, only starting to comment on how she was a “fat fucking bitch” and how they “wouldn’t have wanted her anyway” when they were far enough away. Y/n wordlessly rejoined the group.

Damiano found himself releasing a breath. The whole scene had been over so quickly, he barely registered it. He wasn’t the only one either, he realised. As the other three kept staring at her, amazed and maybe slightly intimidated, while Y/n didn’t even react.

However, Damiano wasn’t just mesmerised by her behaviour. He was thrilled by her - in more ways than one. The way she had handled herself was downright hot. She was fierce, self-confident, and strong. He couldn’t keep himself from contemplating whether this was a side she would let out in the bedroom as well. Was she the type to take control? Order him around? Push him to a wall like she’d done that guy, only with very different intentions? He would be 100% okay with taking orders from her, he decided.

Y/n finally looked up from her phone, apparently feeling everyone’s stares on her.

“...What. I told you I worked security before.” She looked at Victoria, quietly asking her if she was alright. She simply nodded. Damiano still couldn’t keep his eyes off of their assistant. Damn, that woman had more to herself than she let on.

***

Damiano was still thinking about it an hour later. After everyone had gathered their stuff and gotten back to the hotel and split up into their rooms. After he’d gotten in the shower. His mind was still running wild. He quickly turned the water to cold, letting out a hiss at the change in temperature, but he knew he didn’t have the time or the privacy to do anything about his thoughts. Neither would he be knocking on Y/n’s door, desperate for some kind of attention.

Not tonight.

[nicolanoodles]

Aaaaaaand we’re back! Shoutout to @lunar-rainclouds for being the sweetest person ever ❤️ hope you enjoy the next instalment of Roomba AU :)

Waterworks

The holidays don’t go smoothly…

Word Count: 2100

Gentle paws kneaded the blanket as Petra scritched Nigel under the chin, the black cat emitting a steady purr. Her other hand rested on the large swell of her stomach as the baby kicked and wiggled. Fairy lights twinkled on the Christmas tree as the tv droned in the background, reruns of an old sitcom lost to her as bliss enveloped her on the sofa.

Levi brought the steaming mug in from the kitchen. He gazed for a moment at his wife as she doted over the beloved pet, the very picture of maternal bliss. He allowed the tiniest smile to form on his lips as he watched the scene from the doorway. Not long now. Nigel met Levi’s eyes from his spot on his favourite human.

The cat hadn’t left Petra alone since the early weeks of her pregnancy. Everywhere Petra went, the feline followed. If she sat down, he was there head butting at her stomach. When she lay down to sleep the cat was close to follow, kneading at the blankets covering her midsection. As she’d progressed through the months and watched her feet disappear, Petra had nearly tripped over the cat an alarming number of times, much to Levi’s distress.

“Damn animal’s obsessed with you”, Levi mumbled padding into the room as Petra sat fussing Nigel’s ears.

“He’s just excited to meet his new sibling, aren’t you my little bread loaf?” Nigel shot Levi a triumphant look as he curled his tail round, nestling further into the knitted blanket draped over Petra’s stomach. “Hey maybe he’s kneading at me so much coz he knows I’ve got a bun in the oven? Eh, geddit?”

Levi rolled his eyes. He could hardly talk though. Since Petra had announced her pregnancy, Levi had doted on her. It had revealed his most tender side; rubbing her back during the bouts of morning sickness (which Levi grimly found out weren’t just a morning thing), putting lotion on her stretch marks, massaging her feet when they got sore. Turns out her only major craving had been carrots, but Levi made sure to keep a good stock in the fridge.

The first scan, he was woe to admit, he nearly cried at. Seeing their baby for the first time on the fuzzy ultrasound screen and hearing the sound of its heartbeat opened up a part of his heart he hadn’t been introduced to until that moment.

Sure he was nervous. Not having a father figure in their life would affect any new dad - and no, Kenny didn’t count. But he’d had a strong as hell mother to raise him to be the man he was this present day. He was determined to raise his own kid giving it all the love his mom had poured into his upbringing without the worries over basic shit like he’d had growing up.

Petra eagerly accepted the herbal tea off her husband, “Thanks, I think I overdid it earlier”

Levi gave her a chastising look, “You’re supposed to rest until the brat makes an appearance. Doctor’s orders”

“The baby’s due in just over a week, I think I’m past the point of going into premature labour sweetie”

Levi grumbled under his breath as he settled onto the couch next to her.

***

Since being condemned to bed rest a month ago, Petra has gone into full on nesting mode. More than once Levi had come home to a completely reorganised apartment, the contents of cupboards spilled out across their home as Petra frantically rearranged and re-sorted their belongings. “It just didn’t feel right - I just reorganised a few things!”, Levi stared in exasperation at the now completely re-stacked bookshelf and empty bottles of windex littering the living room. He decided to ignore the rickety ass stepladder propped up against the wall.

“Tch, definitely my kid”

***

They cuddled on the sofa as the rain continued tapping the windows. Spencer rolled in, sporting a small knitted hat as its brushes whirred across the laminate. Levi gave a withering look to his wife.

Petra answered with her own beaming smile, “Oh don’t look at me like that, he just wants to feel festive”

“It’s a fucking Roomba!”

Petra kissed up his jaw, “Shh, don’t shout at the pregnant person”.

____________________

The rain had continued to pour into the next morning. Levi looked out at the miserable sky with distaste before turning back to his wife in annoyance.

Petra scowled back, “Levi seriously it’s just Braxton Hicks, you need to stop fussing”

“And you need to take it easy, stop trying to move furniture!”

“It was getting dusty behind the crib!”

“That’s what the robot vacuum’s for!”. Levi stomped back into the living room.

Petra waddled after her husband, determined to prove that she wasn’t an invalid. Getting her best pout on, she was ready to unleash a month’s worth of bed ridden pregnancy hormones, but stopped when she caught Levi staring at the TV. A local news reporter channel. She watched as horror slowly spread across his face.

“-devastating scenes of Karanes trailer park this morning as flood water swept through the area leaving hundreds without power or-”

Petra gaped at the distressing scenes pictured on the television screen. She opened her mouth to say something but Levi was already rushing to the hallway, digging through the closet for some boots.

Petra shouted down the hallway, “Levi at least call her! Search and rescue might already-!”

But he was gone.

____________________

A few hours later Levi had returned, soaked to his skin but thankfully with a relatively unharmed Kuchel and a small bag of her belongings in tow.

Now the three of them sat at the kitchen table, steaming mugs of tea in hand. Levi’s foot tapped against the tiles as he prepared for the incoming argument.

Kuchel set her cup down on the coaster, “You don’t have to fuss honey, I really am fine”. He would have believed his mother if she hadn’t started sneezing immediately after. He offered her the tissue box, “Tch like hell you are, I told you that something like this would happen eventually”. He muttered darkly about ‘damn idiots building on flood plains’ as he went to refill their mugs.

Petra reached across the table to hold her mother in law’s hand, “It really wouldn’t be any trouble Kuchel, we’d love to have you and we’d definitely feel better knowing you’re safe and dry in the apartment rather than in a trailer park prone to flooding”.

“I know what you’re saying sweetheart, but I really can’t impose on you like this. You’re gonna have a little one to take care of very soon and the last thing you need is for me to be in the way”

As if to prove a point, Petra winced as the baby kicked.

Levi’s jaw tensed. He turned back to his mother.

“You’re staying here”, Kuchel opened her mouth to protest but Levi held up his hand and carried on.

“The park is flooded with no electricity and by the time it dries out it’s gonna be damp for weeks, maybe months if the heating doesn’t kick back in. You’ll get sick. You’re staying with us until I deem the trailer inhabitable for you or you find an apartment. End of discussion.”

Kuchel’s eyes softened towards her son, “Thank you sweetie, though I could always give Kenny a ring”

“You are not living with that psycho”. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he exhaled deeply, sliding back onto the wooden chair, “Just let yourself be taken care of for once, please”. Petra’s hand squeezed his knee under the table.

Petra turned to the older woman, “Look, let’s talk more about this in the morning. It’s been a tough day for everyone and the main thing is that you’re safe and dry and more than welcome to spend the holidays with us at the very least ok?”.

Kuchel smiled at her daughter in law, conceding the argument for the evening, “Only until I find an apartment”.

Three empty mugs later and one mother settled onto the pull out sofa for the night, Levi finally rolled into bed with Petra. Sleep didn’t come. His mom was incredibly caring and grateful, but stubborn. She was too used to working herself into the ground if necessary for the things she had and Levi hated it.

The alarm clock ticked its steady rhythm.

He shut his eyes and fell into restless slumber.

_____________________

The next morning, brought little resolution. Every avenue they looked into pointed to one blaring conclusion. They were gonna need a bigger boat. Or in more actualistic terms, a fucking mortgage and more square footage. Visions of sleazy estate agents trying to glaze over poorly hidden structural issues flooded Levi’s mind. Petra had spent the morning trying to soothe her husband’s nerves.

“You know it could actually be a blessing, we could find a house with a garden”. Petra stretched her back, “And it’s not as if there’s a massive amount of stuff between us all, we could always have a garage sale…minus the garage”.

Levi leant against the counter and let out a heavy sigh. It was true that they would certainly be hard pressed for space if his mother came to live with them and there was definitely going to be arguments about how stuff was done around the home. They’d have to set clear boundaries and rethink the nursery to accommodate a spare bed while they searched for a house. But the thought of having his mother go back to the ruined mobile home with no guarantee that it wouldn’t flood again made bile claw up his throat. No. His mom had had it rough raising him on her own. She’d sacrificed so much for him growing up. All the clothes she’d mended, the jobs she’d worked, the jewellery she’d pawned to make sure they always had food on the table. She’d even sold her car to help pay for his tuition to get into a good college. No way. He was not gonna send her back to some damp ass trailer no matter how much she protested. It was the least he could do.

A loud splash broke him out of his thoughts.

“Damn cat! Knocking shit over”, he groused as he grabbed the tea towel to mop up the mess.

He paused.

Something was off with the scene in front of him. He’d expected to be met with a mess on the table cloth, maybe even a chipped glass, and a startled cat. However Nigel was perched on top of the fridge, innocently cleaning his asshole. The table cloth remained intact, no stain to be seen. Petra’s empty breakfast bowl sat on the placemat ready to be washed up.

The full glass of water sat resolutely on the table.

Levi’s eyes tracked down to the puddle on the floor directly under Petra’s feet now soaking into her slippers.

He watched as his wife doubled over letting out a hiss of pain.

Oh.

Fuck.

_____________________

The next few hours seemed to happen in a millisecond and in slow motion all at once.

The drive to the hospital was a blur. Then there was the checking in and the anxious phone calls from his mother. Then the waiting. And the waiting. And the waiting…

And finally, in the late hours of Christmas Eve, Rowan Ackerman entered the world.

Levi sat in the chair next to the hospital bed as Petra slept, cradling his son. He pulled back the blanket a little as the infant squirmed, a little tuft of jet black hair sticking out. The baby yawned and tiny amber eyes gazed up at him briefly before settling back into slumber. God he couldn’t stop staring. Minute fingers curled themselves round his own as Levi readjusted the blanket (lovingly knitted by the newly appointed Grandma). The colours were a little uneven and the edges were stretched to an odd shape but it didn’t matter. ‘This way I can give my Grandbaby a hug every night’, Kuchel had told him as she handed it over at Petra’s baby shower.

Anxiety at his mother’s (and by proxy their own) living situation tried to claw its way up but found no purchase. For the first time in the last 48 hours Levi found nothing but peace staring back at him. It would all work out. Levi looked at his family and his heart filled over.

Between all the drama and happiness and hurt and surprises along the way, they would be still be here.

And Levi couldn’t be fucking happier.

END

Ackerbaby’s name is in no way a reference to any sort of big ass trees. No sir.

If you’re still following this silly little AU of mine then welcome back! Sorry for the mini hiatus but life got BUSY (much like Levi and Petra’s is about to here ha)

Thank you again for reading, you’re the best ❤️

[dragon-kazansky]

Dangerous | Helmut Zemo

AU! Race car driver Zemo 😎

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

I am once again apologising for what you're about to go through.

[Masterlist]

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 10

You wipe down the counter. It was quiet today, not many customers. Everyone was at home waiting for the race to begin. Today was the fourth race of the season. If Zemo won today, he would tie with Stark.

Zemo... you hadn't gone back. You hadn't called him, text him, seen him. You had returned to work, telling your boss things had changed. He welcomed you back, but he looked at you with pity sometimes.

He was currently standing in the doorway behind you, watching you. The race would be starting soon, he had the TV set up in his office, hoping you would come watch it with him. He would happily close up shop for this. For you.

You had worked at The Redwing for several years, a loyal worker to him. You would good with the people, you made wonderful coffee, sometimes bringing s cup to his office, and you knew how to make work fun.

You had this amazing opportunity, then something unexpected came out of the blue and ruined it.

You could do so much better than this little job. He wanted that for you. Plus, he was very much aware, just by the way you had been these past few days, that you were utterly in love with his favourite racer.

He saw the images from the last race. That photo of you and Zemo kissing after his win was all over the place.

Behind him, the commentators are talking about Zemo's win. He flashed up on the screen, a replay of his car gliding over the line. The moment Stark lost to him.

You put away some clean cups, stacking them gently by the machine. You liked having a tidy working area. You knew where everything was, getting what you needed for an order was second nature.

You swung a towel over your shoulder and decided to organise the new tea flavours that came in. Cherry blossom tea had just come in, apparently it was nice. As the shop was empty, you could make one. You grabbed a tea bag from the box and put the box back on the shelf. Your boss watches you go about making your drink.

"Are you going to watch the race with me?"

You pick up your mug and look at him, shaking your head softly. He sighs and comes over to you. He doesn't have to say anything as you begin to cry. He hugs you.

"Why didn't you go?"

"What would I have said?"

"Anything. You don't believe he did it, do you?"

You shake your head.

"Then why are you here with me when you can be there with him? I remember the accident, you know. Saw it on TV back then. There is no way Helmut Zemo would sabotage a race like that."

"What was I suppose to do?" You look up at him and watch as he grabs a napkin to hand to you. You wipe your tears gently.

"You were suppose to go. I'm suppose to be seeing you on screen today, supporting him. You're suppose to be there when he wins today," he speaks softly.

"It's too late."

"You could still go down there. You'll miss the race, but you'll be there."

You shake your head.

"He told me, he said if I still loved him I should be there at the race. If I don't go, he'll leave me alone. I think this is best."

"Now look here, you're a darling and I adore you, but my God, you're a silly liar. You're so in love with him it hurts. You're just torturing yourself by being here."

You wipe at your eyes gently, sipping the tea. It was nice. Zemo would like it.

You sigh and put the cup down.

"You go watch the race. Just... let me knows if he wins."

He looks at you with those pity filled eyes again. When you don't say any more, he leaves, heading back into the office. He keeps the door open a crack.

You stand there. No customers in sight. You feel absolutely awful.

Zemo sits outside by his car. Sam, Bucky, and Sam's sister Sarah, were all there with him. Zemo hadn't said a word to them since he arrived. Bucky had tried to talk to him about what happened, but he didn't get a response.

You weren't here. You didn't come.

He still held onto hope you would make a last minute appearance, that maybe you were right outside, but you weren't. He knew deep down you weren't coming.

You were afraid. He couldn't blame you, but he had hoped that maybe, just maybe, you would believe him. Still, he should have expected this.

Sam and Bucky glance at each other.

"Just leave him be. He'll focus up for the race," Sam said, glancing at Zemo.

Bucky looked across the way.

Stark and his little witch were smooching for the cameras. Behind them, Pepper Potts. Bucky never understood how Pepper could deal with Tony. After everything.

"I'll kill him."

"Bucky, don't."

Sarah pulls Bucky back and tried to get him to calm down. Sam, watches Stark for a lite while longer. He felt sick to the stomach just looking at them.

The racers were called to the line.

You finished up the last if the tea and put the cup to the side. You would take it up to the kitchen shortly. You refilled the water tank and reorganised the spoons for the third time that morning.

The door opened. A young woman enters, a man and two children behind her. You put on your hospitality smile and turn to her.

"Welcome, are you sitting in with us or taking out today?"

The woman smiles, though a lite awkwardly.

"Actually, I am looking for Y/N," she says softly. Her accent, it sounded so much like his.

"That would be me, what I can I do for you?"

She glances at the man she came in with, who nods at her. Licking her lip quickly, she turns back to you and speaks.

"My name is Wanda Maximoff, six years ago my brother died in a horrible accident. I know you have been made aware of this incident. I came here to tell you that I testified about what happened, but no one believed me. They took Stark's word against mine. Helmut Zemo did not kill my brother."

You stare at her.

"You're probably wondering how I know about you and how I come to be here. Stephen Strange is a racer too. Stark had called him a few nights ago. Apparently Zemo had paid him a visit and caused quite a fuss."

"Helmut went to Stark?"

"Yes. Over you. I don't know all the details, only what Strange had told me. I thought it best I come to you and tell you what I know. My brother died in an accident. He was not killed by Zemo."

You hear the low sound of engine revving from the office. The race was about to start.

Wanda watches as you dart into the office quickly. She smiles softly and leaves with her family.

Your boss looks up as you enter. He smiles at you and waves you over. You sit on his desk and watch the TV.

That beautiful purple car appears on screen. You almost want to cry again as you see Zemo sitting there.

You would close your eyes and listen to that sound, even if it is through the television, but you didn't want to look away for a second. That handsome man on the screen, you loved him beyond belief.

Then they were off.

Your breath caught in your throat. You tended up. Your boss placed a hand on your arm, reminding you to breathe. You couldn't. Stark and Zemo were neck on neck. If he won today, he would tie with Stark.

And you would go to him to be there for the final race.

The cars sped around the first corner. You had long since blocked out the commentator. The only sound you could hear was those engines.

Zemo's car glides down the track.

Stark is a hair width away from him. They are so close they could collide any moment, but they don't. Both of them are very skilled and talented drivers. They were born to do this.

They reach the second bend.

You grab your boss's hand, needing something to hold onto. Those two cars are so far ahead from everyone else.

You're filled with anxiety. Everything feels too much.

The third bend.

It all happens so quickly. In the blink of an eye. You're not even sure what had happened.

You weren't even aware you were screaming until your boss had his arms around you. He was so quick to try and tear your gaze away from the screen.

Zemo's car collided into the barrier. It was up in flames. Moments later there was an explosion.

It's just like that day. Six years ago.

You cling to your boss, crying into his shirt. He scrambles with one hand to grab the remote and turn it off.

You had seen enough.

The office fills with your cries. Your agony filled screams are enough to break anyone's heart. What the Hell just happened?

He didn't turn.

He didn't make it around the bend.

And now?

Your boss holds you for a while longer. It's all he can do to help you right now.

At the racetrack, there is chaos. Sam and Bucky were booking it down the sidelines, desperate to reach that corner. Stark zoomed past them going at the speed of light. He would soon cross the finish line and win his third victory, successfully beating Zemo at this point.

Sirens go off in every direction. All ambulances are heading the same way.

An eerie silence falls over the crowd, even after Stark finishes.

Sarah grabs her phone. She has to make a call.

Sam and Bucky manage to reach the wreck. The car is totalled into a burning pit. They can't make heads or tails of what's happening.

And where was Zemo?

This isn't how things were suppose to go.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @nectav @whovianayesha @thesuitkovian @cathrin2405 @deathtothepatriarchy @belle82devart @dxrksxul06 @killeromanoff @alex-the-nb @latenightartist-author @hb8301 @goddessofmischief03 @xxidontwikeitxx @themeanestlittlewitch @scuttle-buttle @fillechatoyante @lucky-luck-lucky @zemosimp420 @avengersofmischief @breadsquash

[aadmelioraa]

"I'll make some tea." + Aldhelm

This is for you and also for @aelflaeds who requested a fill for the same prompt. Enjoy!!

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm, Aelfwynn x Cynlaef, Aldhelm & Aelfwynn, Modern AU, 1.9k, rated T.

Aelfwynn brings her new boyfriend home without warning, which is how Aethelflaed and Aldhelm discover she has a boyfriend at all. Luckily, Cynlaef knows how to break the ice (ok maybe not, but he's trying his best).

read below or on ao3

It had been a quiet and productive spring day for Aldhelm—unbelievably productive, actually. He’d finished grading the last of his term papers, cleaned the entire kitchen, and even reorganised the pantry. He couldn't reasonably ask more of a Friday afternoon.

He’s ahead of schedule, as Aethelflaed isn’t due home for another two hours, and just deciding how to make use of his spare time—begin reorganising the library, perhaps?—when he hears the doorbell. It’s probably a delivery person. He needs to get the post anyway.

But when he reaches the front door, the young man standing before him and holding a box is not in uniform. Furthermore, he appears tongue tied, opening and closing his mouth without saying a word.

Aldhelm frowns at him as he opens the postbox. “You can set that down, I’ll take it in a moment.”

The young man stares, his head tilted like a dog who’s been asked to wait for a treat.

“Did you need a signature?” Aldhelm prompts. The man—more a boy, really—doesn’t appear to have a clue as to how to do his job.

“No—that’s alright—“ the young man stammers.

“Aldhelm?” Aelfwynn appears at the bottom of the steps, a weekend bag slung over her shoulder. She removes her sunglasses to stare up at him, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

Aldhelm tucks the mail under his arm. He’s not sure what he’s done to entertain her, but he will no doubt find out before long. “Aelfwynn, hello. What are you doing here?”

The delivery man is still frozen in place, clutching the box to his chest as if he intends to take up permanent residence on the porch. Aldhelm shoots him a sidewise glance and wonders if he will have to forcibly escort him off the premises. He reaches out to accept the box, but the man looks to Aelfwynn as if for permission to release it. Perhaps it’s addressed to a woman. Aldhelm looks for a delivery label—he doesn’t see one.

“I do live here, technically,” Aelfwynn answers good-naturedly as she makes her way up the steps. “Gosh, it’s a nice day.” She gives a friendly smile to the young man with the box, but as she turns back to Aldhelm she furrows her brow.

“Your mother and I thought you were returning tomorrow, that's all,” Aldhelm explains. “Are you expecting a delivery?”

“Delivery?” Aelfwynn asks. “No, we came back a day early. Didn’t think you and Mum would mind.”

“We?” Aldhelm asks.

The man with the box has relaxed slightly now that Aelfwynn is beside him. Aelfwynn’s hand brushes his elbow. The space between them narrows. Ah.

“My apologies,” Aldhelm manages. “I didn’t realise.”

“You’re being so awkward.” Aelfwynn purses her lips. “Are you going to let us in?”

Aldhelm steps back, allowing them to proceed into the house. The young man hesitates on the doorstep until Aelfwynn finds his hand and pulls him in after her.

So they’re that sort of an “us.” Aelfwynn hasn’t brought a boyfriend home before. But it’s inevitable. She’s eighteen, after it. It’s completely normal—good, even. It means she wants them to meet him. That’s more than Aldhelm had expected, if he's honest.

Aelfwynn leaves her bag at the foot of the stairs, but directs the young man to bring the box into the kitchen, where he gently sets it on the counter.

“Your mother isn’t home yet,” Aldhelm says.

“I thought we might beat her here.” Aelfwynn reaches into the refrigerator for a pitcher of water. She pulls two glasses from the cupboard next, and pours a drink for her and her guest.

The young man is smiling, and un-smiling, every few seconds. He seems afraid to make eye contact with Aldhelm, instead he admires his surroundings and nods regularly at nothing in particular.

Aldhelm raises a hand in a commanding fashion, and the young man finally looks towards him. The simple gesture always works in the classroom, and it gratifies Aldhelm to know it works here too. “I’m Aldhelm, Aelfwynn’s step-father.”

“Oh, I know,” the young man replies earnestly, then stops himself abruptly from continuing, looking to Aelfwynn as if he’d said the wrong thing.

“Aldhelm, this is Cynlaef,” Aelfwynn supplies, a proud smile on her face.

“Hello, Cynlaef,” Aldhelm says, his eyes narrowing slightly as he extends his hand. “I assume you know Aelfwynn from university?”

“Yes, sir,” Cynlaef says, smiling eagerly. His handshake is firm—a little too firm. He certainly can’t be accused of not trying.

“Cynlaef’s my boyfriend,” Aelfwynn continues, jumping onto the kitchen counter behind her.

“I see.” Aldhelm raises his eyebrows. “And how long have you two been dating?”

“A few months,” Cynlaef says, gravitating towards Aelfwynn, still clutching his glass of water. “Her cousin Aethelstan’s a friend of mine.”

Aelfwynn rakes her fingers through Cynlaef’s hair in an absentminded fashion. “They’re both on the Rugby team.”

Rugby. Naturally.

Aldhelm smiles. “Cynlaef, would you excuse us for a moment?” He jerks his head towards the next room. Aelfwynn rolls her eyes but hops off the counter and follows.

They proceed into the living area, which serves as office, entertaining space, and the occasional interrogation room. Aldhelm leans against a bookcase. Aelfwynn sinks onto the arm of a reading chair, her expression equally expectant and defiant.

“I assume your mother isn’t aware of Cynlaef,” Aldhelm begins.

“Haven’t mentioned him yet.” Aelfwynn shrugs her shoulder casually. “It’s not a big deal, though, is it?”

Aldhelm briefly presses the bridge of his nose. Aelfwynn’s timing has never been worse, and that was saying something. “No, it's not, but she’s finishing a big case today—“

“Oh.”

“Notice wouldn't have hurt, that’s all,” he continues, keeping his voice as cheerful as he can.

Aelfwynn grimaces up at him. “I didn’t know about the case.”

“Right.” Aldhelm exhales. Aelfwynn and Aethelflaed haven’t talked much recently. Perhaps this is Aelfwynn’s way of making an effort to change that.

“You’re making a face. Are you going to lecture me about healthy relationships or something?” Aelfwynn asks, her expression souring.

“No, I’ll leave that for your mother,” Aldhelm says dryly.

Aelfwynn snorts.

Aldhelm glances back towards the kitchen. Cynlaef is standing exactly where Aelfwynn had left him, staring across the room, face blank. “He seems…”

“He’s really sweet, you’ll like him,” Aelfwynn insists. “And you should come to a match. He’s brilliant.” She crosses and uncrosses her arms. “I hope Mum isn’t too put out. I didn’t want to give her time to overthink it—“

“Well you certainly haven’t done that.”

Aelfwynn wrinkles her nose. “I know, I know. You could have warned me about the case.”

“If I had known I needed to—“

But before they can discuss further, there’s a noise at the front door.

“She’s home early,” Aldhelm says in a low voice, pushing off the bookcase.

“Oh, fuck.” Aelfwynn barrels into the kitchen, Aldhelm on her heels.

Cynlaef turns toward them, wide-eyed, then the door opens and Aethelflaed appears, perfectly composed despite being weighed down by a briefcase, a large tote bag, and a portable file box. She beams at the sight of Aelfwynn, then her smile fades slightly at the sight of Cynlaef—she quickly recovers, of course, and forces a brighter smile, albeit a more artificial one.

Aldhelm crosses towards her and relieves her of her bags and case files, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Aelfwynn’s home early, and she’s brought a guest.”

“I can see that,” Aethelflaed replies, the line between her brow flickering as she searches his face for an answer to her many unspoken questions.

He shakes his head, and she sighs, then turns back towards the young couple.

“Hi, Mum.” Aelfwynn slides towards her, allowing her mother to pull her into a hug. “Sorry to show up early. I thought you’d be happy about it.”

“I am,” Aethelflaed says warmly. “Who’s your friend, darling?”

“Mum, this is Cynlaef,” Aelfwynn says hesitantly. “My boyfriend.”

Cynlaef eagerly extends a hand, which Aethelflaed accepts. “Really nice to meet you. Aelfwynn has told me so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Aethelflaed replies humorously, turning to Aldhelm.

It's then that Aldhelm remembers that he had anticipated a quiet afternoon, and nearly laughs. Aethelflaed narrows her eyes at him. “How was your case?” he asks. He’s sure it went well, based on her mood upon entering, so it seems a safe thing to inquire after.

“Good. Great, even. And we finished early.” She turns back to Aelfwynn. “So…pardon me…how long…”

“Oh, not long,” Aelfwynn says swiftly. “It’s sort of a new thing.” She worries her lower lip. “Not thatnew. I mean…I did want you all to meet. It’s…well…” She trails off, looking to Aldhelm for help.

Aldhelm forces a smile, shrugging apologetically. He has no desire to get caught in the middle of things any more than he already is.

There’s an awkward silence, during which Cynlaef attempts to drink from his now empty glass.

“It’s just a bit of a surprise,” Aethelflaed says, smoothing a hand over her hair. “No offence to the lovely young man, of course.”

Cynlaef appears unsure if this is a compliment or an insult. Aldhelm is again tempted to laugh.

“A nice surprise?” Aelfwynn asks.

Aldhelm lays a hand over his mouth.

“Of course nice,” Aethelflaed replies, her voice taut. “Well…I suppose it’s good we’ll get to know you, Cynlaef. I had thought we’d have Aelfwynn to ourselves for the week, but—“

“Actually, we’re going up to see Cynlaef's parents in Daresbury on Wednesday,” Aelfwynn says. “But we have until then. That’s loads of time.”

“Right.” Aethelflaed presses her lips together. “I suppose it would have been too much to expect a phone call with that change of plans either.”

Aelfwynn rolls her eyes. “It’s not the end of the world, Mum—“

“In no way did I imply it was—“

“You’re totally overreacting—“

“Aelfwynn, let’s not argue—“

“It’s really not a big deal!” Aelfwynn huffs. “Aldhelm was totally cool about it, why can’t you be?”

Aethelflaed shoots Aldhelm a look of latent irritation. Cynlaef has done his best to become one with the refrigerator. Aelfwynn has her hands on her hips, a stance Aldhelm has become quite familiar with the past few years.

“Oh!” Cynlaef suddenly springs forward. “I forgot about the gifts.” He opens the box he’d left on the countertop and pulls out a series of handmade mugs one by one, each one slightly more irregular in appearance than the last. When he’s finished, he gestures to the collection with a broad smile. “I made them in my ceramics class. Didn’t expect to like it, but it was a lot of fun, actually. Not too bad, right?”

Aethelflaed stares, her mouth slightly open.

“Isn’t that thoughtful?” Aelfwynn says, smiling up at Cynlaef. He grins down at her.

“So very thoughtful, Cynlaef,” Aethelflaed replies in clipped tones, gingerly picking up one of the vessels. “I’m not sure where we’ll store such a wonderful assortment—“

“Oh, there’s room in the cupboard, I checked,” Cynlaef says helpfully.

Aethelflaed blinks rapidly. “What foresight.”

Aelfwynn groans quietly.

Aldhelm clears his throat. “Right. I’ll make some tea, shall I?”

[libertys-lovers]

I have all these gush passes now and by the holy dough i WILL use them!

Now once again - GOSH i love my friends!! I've done a bunch of reorganising and redecorating so i think everyone's a bit happier with the place! I decided to place some snow around since where i'm from there never is any- and Thanksgiving made me get a bit excited for X-mas. (Well, that and Eggnog and Tiramisu being extraordinarily festive prematurely. They even got Wizard and Muscle to put on their costumes!!)

It made Cotton, Captain Ice and Snow Sugar very happy, though it seems to have summoned a bunch of people to my kingdom!?! Why are Crunchy Chip and Frost Queen here???

Anyway, i point this out because MY DEAR SPINCH!! I have asked Sour Belt, Chocolate Bonbon and Mont Blanc to help her out, seeing as she is a vegetable cookie and i got worried about how she might get cold.. She looks adorable in her fluffy coat and earmuffs by the way!

She is so so lovely, always worrying about my health and offering me veggies and fruits. I actually did catch a cold recently and she's been giving me dried apple slices and various kinds of tea 🥺 So yes, i thought i'd return her kindness by helping her out like this.

I'm a bit nervous because i think she might suspect my feelings since i'm.. quite obvious *motioning to my pink cheeks* but i adore her so much i just can't help it!!☆

Thank you for letting me ramble :D

AWE!!!! That’s so sweet of you 🥺🥺💖💓💞💓💖💓💓💖. If there’s one thing I know these cookies enjoy, it’s the good ol’ holiday spirit! The fact that it’s already drawing new cookies to visit your kingdom too…. Your land’s gonna be a tourist hotspot in no time!

The fact you and Spinach are helping each other out too 🥺🥺🥺. Y’all are just the absolute sweetest!!! I can’t even fathom how much she appreciates that new outfit. Especially with the fact you were able to get the 3 top fashion designers to make it?!? She’s gonna feel oh-so spoiled~!

And hey, even if she notices your blush, I’m sure she’ll find it real endearing. She’s probably had a bit of blush herself, and it’s certainly not just from the cold weather 😉☺️. But hey, I’ll make sure none of the cookies spill your, shall we call it, secret(?).

[brookesophelias]

Fred Wizarding War II | emotional headcanon,, sorry

Fred Weasley became a ghost. He really couldn’t tolerate parting from George. (Even Molly’s Boggart had them both dead). Never quite gone then, surely? It was simple: haunting Hogwarts,  becoming the Manager of Mischief (MoM, ironically), for Peeves. As often as they could:

Bill stopped by so Fred met little Victorie

Charlie came with dragons (+profuse regretful apologies).

Making peace with &, as customary, teasing Percy.

Energising visits from George— nothing changed there.

Ron is there after the shoppe with wicked Auror moves

When not touring with Hollyhead Harpies, Ginny makes time, too.

Harry & he always talk craic & Fred enjoys the grins

Who surprises Freddie most is Arthur; he never meant for Fred to see, but he keeps Fred’s embroidered jumper from 1989 in his briefcase, as if his son was away on holiday rather than unalive.

And Molly, of course, with flowers—& tea (although Fred always sighs, begging she not worry about him this much).

When she did, her time was either shortened or the flowers frazzled. [They could always be magically reorganised, but that’s not the point]. She eventually forgot them—or the tea—altogether. As for the others... same thing. They ran out of new “bells and whistles” as well as the need to apologise. And Mum finally comprehended “no worry;” she stopped coming. Each of them did. At times, they seem so wrinkled and grey, polished and tucked. Well-mannered and behaved, Fred—no more than barely 20-still—can’t recognise them. Easiest (obviously) is George because some things never change; though, even that is getting more challenging, admittedly. That was the first time since his own death he mourns the loss of corporeal self. He inconsolably sobs that night as he tucks himself between the walls of the seventh floor corridor, like every night. Since then, it’s never been as warm as before. Fred finds himself counting on his fingers—& in shock between visits—for, someone will inevitably correct the number of years which have passed.

A young boy enters Hogwarts in September, a Firstie. Fred usually doesn't attend Welcome Feasts now. He’d seen endless. But, this one is special, so he does. The boy’s got freckles; tall, gingered hair with glasses. It shouldn’t be—but alas. How? No matter; perhaps new magic has been invented by now? “Percy!” screams Fred excitedly to no reply. He tries again, countless times. Nothing...

Fred cries, comforted only by Moaning Mytle, as he had done many over times. Out of all his siblings other than his twin, Fred missed perfect, prompt, polite prattling Percy most. His brother knew that, did he not? Miserably wiping snot gone with the back of his hand, Fred hears someone. The Weasley looks messy & tired, as much as either of those a ghost could appear. “Hello? Mr hm, Weasley sir. I know you’re in here. Uncle, that Baron ghost told me.” Shit, it’s Possibly-Percy! “...n’t trying to ignore you. My....reminded me to look for you, & I... I’m sorry; my name’s just not Percy, a— ”. Fred doesn’t respond, he just shifts a little closer beneath the sink. It’s okay.” Now-not Percy sounds welcoming. “Grandmum makes the same mistake when we’re at The Burrow together.” Oh, The Burrow! Fred misses his tilting home so much. Very much; he actually also misses the grass-gnawing gnomes. Before Not-Percy keeps talking, Fred’s curiousity comes. “If you're not Percy, then who are you?” “I’m Forge!” The young wizard rushes out a hand, as if he normally meets jaw-dropped ghosts. “Ah,” nods Fred, still quite bewildered that this boy... “Fred II {read: two} , Fred The Second. I never forget but it’s kind of a new school & Mama’s—my mum’s Angelina, by the way & my father is—” “George,” says Fred. “I remember my Gred.”

[deadinside-butstill-horny]

The Night We Met

Part Three - Most Of You

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 10k - Word count got away from me.

Summary: We learn a little about Y/N’s past. Tequila is involved and inhibitions lowered. 

Content Warnings: Mentions of death, themes of PTSD,18+ SMUT warning, oral, fingering, dirty talk, penetrative sex. Lots and lots of consent, cause consent is sexy and you know our boy Javi is nothing if not respectful.

MASTERLIST

AO3

Author Note: I really enjoyed writing this. It’s absolutely just porn with minor plot but I have no regrets.

Got the gif from this photo set during the week because THAT’S THE SMILE I’M ON ABOUT. That cute as fuck half smile; it melts my heart. 

Part One   -  Part Two 

It just so happened that when Javier decided to stop trying to seduce you, the two of you could actually be around one another and have a good time. Well, not quite as good as that night. But in the grand scheme of things; good-ish. 

After the debauchery that had occurred outside of the church the two of you had ceremonially agreed to a ceasefire on all hostilities with your second meeting. You were equal parts surprised and disappointed that Javier had been on his best behaviour, the two of you had successfully bought the ingredients and were currently producing what was sure to be a decent breakfast without either of you ending up naked. 

He was the picture of domesticity as he sat on the counter top with a beer in his hand at 8:15am as you whisked some eggs in a bowl using a fork, you paused for a moment, taking a sip of your own beverage, then resuming your task as you threw the eggs into the too hot pan making them sizzle on the skillet. 

"No, no, no, no." Javier cried and pushed himself off of the counter as he tutted, coming to your side and placing his hand on the curve of your waist to move you out of his way. His hand slithers forward and lingers a second on your own fingers before he takes the spatula and puts space between the two of you to manage the task at hand. 

For a moment, you're perplexed. The movement itself wasn't particularly invasive or breaking from the gentlemanly persona he had adopted in the last two hours, but rather it was an act of, well, familiarity. Which reason dictates simply shouldn’t exist between the two of you. 

You had known each other for a grand total of 48 hours and that was being generous as you had been comatosed for easily 15 of those. He had a bad habit of popping up when you least expected it and disarming you with an easy smile. 

You didn’t like how he made you feel. Everything you said, you measured his reaction, a pull of his lip, a flash of his teeth or a narrow of his brow; these were his tells, well his obvious ones. 

You tried desperately to convince yourself that this was platonic analysis. It would seem you could kid Javier but you couldn’t trick yourself. You felt things for the man that you really shouldn’t after knowing him for two days. You were frustrated with the situation, he’d slept with another woman hours after your encounter. You were jealous, sure, but not betrayed.  

It was a matter of pride, that evening had somewhat extinguished the fire for the bronzed man who was currently trying to save the eggs you’d flash fried. What you were experiencing were embers. Yes, embers. The fire hadn’t completely been doused and all you had was a residual heat. A deep glowing burning heat, sure. But eventually reality would be sure to dump some more water on this fire and you wouldn’t feel this lingering need for the man, right?

“¡Espero que te gusten los huevos calientes!” Javier hollered over the sizzling with a smirk on his face as he scraped at the pan with the instrument he’d stolen from you. 

“Eggs and Hot? That’s all I got!” You question a smile warming your face, apparently his enthusiasm was contagious. 

He chuckled at your words and nodded, “Tu español no es tan malo linda dama!”

“I got nothin’ besides español,'' you shrug. Javier let out another snicker, he seemed to laugh a lot but he was missing the soft wrinkles bracketing his mustache which made you think that maybe this wasn’t his natural state. There was a light silence whilst he sliced the loaf of bread you’d picked from the store. As you were setting the table your book caught your eye from its place on the coffee table and you couldn’t resist trying out some of your newly learnt infant level language. 

“Hola Javier, mi nombre es Y/N. Mi color favorito es el Y/F/C.¡Me gustan los perros!” 

(My name is Y/N, My Favourite colour is Y/F/C. I like dogs!)

Javier turned around his expression; a picture of incredulousness. His eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, his mustache almost touching his nose as you got a view of his brilliant white teeth in a genuine honest to god grin. If you had a camera, you’d have captured that moment.

“I’ll have to be careful around you, huh, sunshine? These new Spanish skills of yours could get me into trouble.”

“Bailar es divertido!” You exclaim using the only Spanish phrase you know.

“What?...Dancing is fun?... Where the hell did you learn this stuff?”

“Español … para... niños”

“Española para niñas” Javier corrected helpful “Unless you’ve got something you need to tell me...” 

“Damn! The masculine and feminine, they briefly touched upon the theory in Spanish for Kids. It wasn’t as in depth as you might think though.” You joke with a huff. “Hey, do you know where I can get a better translating book?”

“Learning Spanish, huh? How long are you plannin’ on staying exactly?” You jump at the addition of a third voice, Steve appears looking thoroughly rested with his voice two octaves lower than it should be.

“Well ya’ know Stevie, it’s pretty ignorant to not learn a little of the language of the country you’re in.”

“You didn’t answer the question.” Steve points out, you’d hoped he would give in and let it go considering Javier was here. Though seeing as he greeted his partner whilst grabbing a cup of coffee before turning expectantly towards yourself, your chances of skirting around the subject seemed slim. 

“I don’t have any commitments at home, not like I got the hospital waiting for me to come back. So... I’mma stay… ya know … live a little!”

“Gillian? She’s not waiting for you?”

“Nah, I quit.”

“You quit?! It took you fuckin’ ages to get that job.”

“Stevie, If I have to clean up puke in a fucking grocery store once more. I honestly don't think I can take it- don’t look at me like that. Three times is three times too many!” 

“You’re fuckin’ out of your mind. This isn’t a holiday.”

“No, but I need some change, you clearly need to get your ass kicked back in line. We both win! If you help me get a job it’ll be great… I can practically speak Spanish already....” 

“I dispute that.” Javier piped up.

“Shut up.” You say as you throw the tea towel at him. “Look Stevie. Everything’s fine. You were fine with Connie and Olivia being here. I’m a grown ass woman.” There was silence as Javier continued moving around the kitchen, only this lull was a little heavier, you chalk it up to you being the youngest and the only girl in a family with three brothers. God knows they’d been benching you your entire life. 

“Fine.” Steve huffed and sat down at the table as you and Javier served up. The man in question gave you a conspiratorial wink as you passed one another. Nothing more was said on the matter as you tucked into breakfast. Infact, pleasant conversation was kept up all through the meal until it came time for Javier and Steve to go.

“We gotta get into the embassy. Heard rumours the new boss starts soon and we need to get our ducks in a row.” Steve nodded to Javier's words. “You ready to get back in the ring?”

“Been ready for the past two weeks, man. This leave of absence was bullshit”

Steve grabs his coat as you watch expectantly, waiting for your invite to the boys club, that inevitably doesn’t come. Instead you receive a much more in character; “Stay in the apartment, for god sakes Y/N. Just for today. I’ve left my number on the pad if you need me.”

You nod noncommittally and combined with a shrug the action hits its mark as Steve sighs.

“This isn’t funny. Bogotá isn’t safe for you.” You repeat your action, this time without the shrug. He huffs but carries on out of the door, he must have realised that was as much as an acquiescence as he was going to recieve, Javier follows him but stops on the threshold. 

“Te encontraré ese libro, Guapa.” He calls out before closing the door behind him.

“no hablo español, motherfucker!” You shout after him, you vaguely hear his warm chortle as he descends down the stairs. With your legs propped up on the chair in front of you, you huff and look around the room.  The absolute assholes had left you with the washing up. Yeah, feminism was definitely taking a hit during your time in Colombia. 

Apparently the agents hadn’t got the memo about the change in gender roles, you cursed their names as you turned on the radio to some latin music and began the arduous process of cleaning the entire kitchen, including the appliances and counters you hadn’t even used. 

You then moved onto the lounge, hey, if you were going to play the role of housewife, you were going to at least be a good one. You hoovered, reorganised and dusted your ass off for at least three-ish hours before you got bored, abandoning your work for snooping, you were only human after all.  

First you looked in the medicine cabinet and found nothing good, I mean, you don’t know what crazy drugs you were expecting your brother, the DEA agent, to have in his possession but you were crestfallen with the dull discovery of a spare toothpaste, American xanax and ‘aspirina bebé’.

With a lamentful sigh you took your sleuthing into the bedroom, pulling his bedside drawer open with a hesitant hand. You don’t know what dark sexual preferences your brother and Connie may or may not have and you didn’t want to risk permanent scarring. As you open it fully you glance inside remaining tentative, your eyes first fall on the badge left behind. He must have forgotten it. You take it out and place it on the bed beside you as you continue to investigate.

Your hands find a wad of folded yellow notepad paper, the jagged edges have been ripped from the main pad in frustration. Unfolding the wad, you do a once over of the sheet in front of you. The words ‘Dear Connie,’ make you halt in your sted.  Finding a gimp mask or weed was funny, this however crossed a line. So you placed the notes back where you found them, you turned to grab the badge and place it back on top of the pile but as the light shone on the metal an idea sprung to mind.

To say you were famed for your impulse control issues was an understatement. You often acted first with no regard for the consequences, hence your presence in Colombia and your extensive shoe collection. But as you drove your brother's Jeep through the streets of Bogotá, you realised that you may finally push Steve over the edge. Already in too deep you took the final turn, following the map you had spread out on the passenger side and were greeted with the American flag. Eureka. You had taken an embarrassing amount of wrong turns but had finally arrived.

You pulled up to the barrier and smiled at the Colombian guard donned in a dark green uniform. 

“Hola, Agent Murphy DEA asked me to drop off his badge.” You wiggle the object of your deceit in his eye line. 

“Identification?” The guard asked in heavily accented English.  You shut off the car's engine as you turn to your purse and pull your driver's license out and hand it over. He inspects the plastic, looking between you and the ID before nodding and handing it back to you, definitely not a social butterfly.  He then waved to the gentleman controlling the barrier, allowing you access.  

“DEA office is to the right. Personnel only.”

“I’ll be in and out, quick as a flash.” You reassuringly smile at the man and receive only a stony glare in return. Deciding to stop pushing the apparently limitless bounds of your dumb luck you pull through the barrier and into the car park on the right. You park up in what you hope is an unreserved space and hop out of the tall vehicle.

“Right, what's the plan again?” you mumble to yourself as you pause for a second, before starting towards the cream building and hopping up the stairs. You cling to the badge like a life raft, terrified you’ll be stopped as the imposter sight-seerer you are. Now in your defence, you knew this was dumb. Steve had an important job and distracting him wasn’t helpful in the least, but you couldn’t help yourself. Stay inside- like that was ever going to happen.

So you scoured the offices of the embassy for about fifteen minutes before you decided to break and ask for help, finally stopping an american looking woman with large stylish shoulder pads and even bigger hair. 

“I’m looking for the DEA office? Steve Murphy, Javier Peña?”  She seemed to bristle at the mention of the latter.

“Take that elevator to the third floor and it's the third door on the left, but watch out for Peña, he’s a real- '' She cut herself off with a huff, before nodding your way and walking off.

No shit, sister. 

Following the potentially scorned woman's instructions you found yourself in the DEA Bogotá headquarters; only Steve and Javier were nowhere to be seen.  

Fuck.

You looked around the room taking a slight step back getting ready to turn on your heel as an older white haired man entered the room. 

“Hey Newbie, I need two copies of each of these and I need these faxed to the team in Medellín.”

“Uh-”

“I needed them there yesterday, so get to it.” He dumps the two huge piles of files into your arms as you stare at him bemused. Looking back you still don’t know why you didn’t say anything, but you rolled up your sleeves and whipped out that can-do attitude and got to work, at what was apparently your new guerilla admin job. And that is how Javier and Steve found you two hours later, fighting with a fax machine and on the phone to the office in Medellín.

“No- I understand how the machine works… Yes… Yes I’ve turned it off and on, I think the problems on your side… No I don’t- Well Weaver needed the case file there yesterday so you need to figure something out! Yes… Yes I’ll hold. “ You turned when you heard steps behind you, pressing the receiver between your head and your shoulder and holding the fax machine manual. 

“Hey Guys!” You say cheerily, pretending like this was completely normal, like you hadn’t just dropped into Steve’s life and then surprised him every step of the way. 

“What in the hell are you-” Steve started, however the woman on the other side of the phone decided to pick up, you held up one finger to the two of them as a pause. 

“Oh, Hey Salome, It’s no problem… that’s great, I'll give it a try.” You drop the manual and press the green button on the fax machine, the machine begins making the whizzing sound you’d been chasing for the past twenty minutes. “Sounds all good on my end. Right, that's great I’ll send the rest across now. Thanks, have a nice day!”

“Am I high, right now? What the fuck is going on?” Steve’s tone matched his face with the disbelief painted upon it.  He had taken a seat at the desk which just so happened to be next to the fax machine and copier. Javier sat at his own in front of the typewriter with a smirk on his face lighting up a cigarette.

“Uh, well... I came to give you your badge cause’ you forgot it at home and then Weaver asked me to do some copies. Turns out that security here is pretty lax, cause’ I’ve been copying and faxing classified case files for the past two hours and no one seems to know or care that I don’t work here.” Steve’s eye all but twitched as he rubbed at his face. He reached into his bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and began pouring himself a glass.

“Fine.” He actually shrugged after downing the drink in one. Damn, You weren’t sure which had broken him, yourself or Colombia. “Better you’re here where I can keep tabs on you...Javi, can we get her an actual job?”

“I’ll run it by Messina,” Javier shrugged as he stood from behind his desk. “Probably best not to mention the perusal of classified cases though.”

So that’s how the three of you ended up at dinner celebrating your new job four days later, you were officially an office administrator for the DEA in Colombia, heading to the CNP base of operations in Medellín alongside your brother and his partner as their administrator, well, from what you understood, you were their dogsbody.  Your Spanish speaking ability had been greatly exaggerated but you were undeniably overqualified for the position, so, pending a background check you were through doors. 

Your interview with Steve and Javi’s boss; Messina, had been nerve wracking and your Murphy name had won you no favours. 

You’d given it your best and from what you could see you’d managed to convince her you were worth your salt. 

Yep, you’d proved yourself totally capable and more importantly, completely willing to move around 8 hours away to Medellín to live on an army base where a drug cartel was incredibly active. According to Javi this had apparently made you a very appealing hire to the DEA.  As such you were being sent along with the boys to help out on the front line, well, as close to the front line as an admin/dogsbody gets.

The three of your glasses clinked in unison, before you drained your shot with a regretful gasp, Tequila was the devil. 

“Thank you to Javi, for not only saving my sister from her stupidity once, but twice… or is it three times now?!” Steve lifted his second shot as he gave his heartfelt speech. Picking up the lime you’d just sucked the juice out of you launched it at him, missing by some margin. He let out what could only be described as a snigger as both him and Javi threw their second shots back.

If you were completely honest with yourself, you were wasted. 

The three of you had enjoyed a meal and many, many subsequent drinks. Knowing full well the two men had a distinct advantage of having had at least a year to pickle their livers in whiskey from the stress of this place, you had insisted that for every two drinks they had, you had one. . 

Still, six drinks in with no sign of stopping you felt better than you really had any right to. The room had yet to start spinning and for those small mercies, you were thankful.

“Nah, Thankyou to you both! I’ve heard Medellín is lovely this time of year!”

“Well, you won’t know. You’ll be spending all of your time on base, where it’s safe.”

“Steve-”

“Non-negotiable. You wanna come to Medellín, fine. But you do what I say, and no Y/N’s day out like in Bogotá.” 

“Dude, you’re such a buzz-kill!”

“Dude? What are you 15?!” Javier jokes with a cigarette between his lips. You’d been here only a week and yet he’d managed to navigate how to defuse an impending Murphy fight from a mile away.

“You should’a seen her at 15. Those teeth!”

“Ya’ got any pictures?” Javi asks, half distracted with flagging down the waitress and showing her five fingers.

“Really Steve, you wanna go there? After the earring incident?” Javier turns his full attention on you. 

“Murphy had an earring?”

“No-” Steve tries to interrupt.

“Yep, a nice little hoop.”

“I didn’t…”

“It got caught on his windbreaker and he ripped it out of his ear, it got infected.”

“Wind breaker?” Javier was biting his lip and staring at your brother, not really trying so hard to contain his laughter.

“Can’t think why I didn’t want you around, Sis. Look- I was trying something out; It didn’t work, so I moved on.” You wait a beat, allowing Javier to take in the information before you helpfully and without prompt drop a nugget of information for the Hispanic man.

“... He had to go to hospital.” A chortle burst unintentionally from Javier’s chest as your comment caught him by surprise. 

“Y/N!” Steve burst out in frustration, making you cackle with glee.

“Okay, Okay.” You hold your hands in mock surrender as the waitress drops another round of drinks on the table.

“Let’s head over to the discotheque, live music- no Sicario’s. Big with Bogotá policia so very safe.” Javier pitched like he was speaking to a child as he tried to convince Steve. He knew you were in from the excitement that lit up your form.

“I don’t know, dancing-”

“Would be good for you! Come on Steve, this place is closing soon anyway-” You counter, only to be cut off as he frantically looks at his watch. 

“What time is it- I promised I’d phone Con tonight- FUCK!” He stood quickly grabbing the table to steady himself and ran to the phone box just outside of the bar, you could just about see him from where you sat in the window booth besides Javi.

The two of you looked at one another for a moment, you weren’t quite at the level where conversation came easy, but you weren’t uncomfortable by any means.

“Thanks for talking to Messina for me… honestly. You’ve done so much for me since I got here.”

“Like I said, it’s no problem, guapa.” He smiles at you, not a smirk for once but a delighted easy smile that rarely graces his face. “I saw your CV.”

“Oh.” The smile drops off of your face, his eyes analyse your reaction, the easy smile replaced by a sombre expression. 

“Yeah, Oh. You were a doctor, a surgeon? I thought you mopped up vomit in a grocery store in Miami?”

“It’s complicated.” You gave him no further explanation, you expected him to move on, except Javier wasn’t like other people, he didn’t make things easy. He stared at you expectantly with those deep brown questioning eyes.  “Christ, okay. Yes I was in my final year of residency, not quite a surgeon.”

“How does that happen?”

“How does what happen?” You question, you know you’re being difficult but this isn’t something you’ve talked about with Steve, for Godsakes. He did that trick once more, hitting you with those soul-full eyes. 

Honestly, it was lucky you weren’t working for Escobar, forget waterboarding, all Javi would have to do was look at you to get you to give up your darkest secrets. “Things didn’t go my way, I wasn’t happy there. The hours were long and that shit was heavy.” 

He didn’t seem satisfied with your answer but he didn’t push any further, finally respecting your reluctance, he nodded. Stubbing out his cigarette and tilting his head towards the shots he asked “...Another?” 

“Why not?” You reply hesitantly.

Taking the salt you go to shake it onto the back of your hand when a tanned one stops your movement in its wake.

“No, no, no. Let’s do it a little different.” His eyes shot up to where your brother was leaning against the phone booth before he took your hand in his. Adjusting his grip he lifts your wrist to his mouth. Your heart is beating in your ears as you watch as his pink tongue pokes out and laps one, twice at your pulse point. A long line of saliva is left on your wrist as he shakes the salt over it. His eyes meet yours for a moment, as if asking permission. 

You don’t know how you even instruct your brain to nod, but regardless you carry out the action. Javi brings his mouth to your wrist once more in one solid stroke of his talented tongue, your eyes clamp closed as he finishes swiping up the salt before draining both the tequila and lime.

You’re breathing heavy as you open your eyes, to find those mahogany ones laser focused on you.

“You missed a step.” You mumble, your eyes never leaving his as you hold the lime up to his mouth, rind first. His teeth close over it and his lips just barely graze your fingertips. You turn to check on Steve, thankfully your brother has his back to the two of you, deep in conversation with Connie. Probably for the best, given your plan.

You turn sideways to face Javi, lifting one of your legs up onto the booth and bending it at the knee to get a vantage point. The alcohol coursing in your veins gives you the courage as one  hand wraps around his neck and the other his shoulder, you lean forwards to give one long solitary lick up his neck, right on the pulse. You taste his sweat stained skin, salty and warm on your tongue. 

Reaching for the shaker, you apply it liberally, smiling as you drop some of it down his t-shirt. Though from the stare he seemingly refused to remove from you, you don’t think he much cared.  Once you considered your job done, you turned back and pushed his head to the side and began licking the salt from his neck, this time you tortured him with three small cat licks along the flesh, you felt his neck tense as his hand moved from its place on the pleather booth and wrapped around your thigh. 

You reached back to the table and sank your shot. Wincing you turned back to Javier, leaning forward to grab the lime from his mouth. As you did so, he dropped it purposefully, staring directly into your eyes, a clear challenge, before he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you forward locking your lips in a devastating kiss. He tasted of lime, tequila and just Javier; that unexplainable component which was both sweet and smoky. His tongue plundered the depths of your mouth, seemingly uncaring of your brother who was mere metres away. Your hands roved his chest before locking in the short hair on the nape of his neck. 

Unexpectedly it was Javi who broke the kiss. The two of you paused with your foreheads meeting, much like the night you met.  He seemed to be trying to regain control.

“Meet me in the bathroom?” You whisper, rubbing your nose against his beautifully angular hooked one. He breathed out heavily through his nose, his eyes opening and pushing you away by your shoulders.

“No, I’m not gonna fuck you in the fucking bathrooms of a filthy fucking bar- are you crazy?” Behind his eyes a rage and arousal battled, apparently you had rattled him with your question, he reached forward for his whiskey, and took a sip whilst shaking his head and trying to centre himself. “I’m giving you whiplash? Yeah that’s real cute. You change what you want every single fuckin’ day, then look at me like I’m a dick.”

You supposed he had a point, after all you had been the one to ask for the redo and then stared at him longingly every day since. “It’s not an easy situation to navigate, ok? I came here for Steve-”

“You didn’t come here for Steve.” He uttered under his breath, staring straight ahead with his elbow perched on the table and holding the glass to his mouth.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t come here for Steve, not completely. You came here for you.”

“That’s not-” Javier turns to you, locking you down with his gaze. It was easy to forget he was a cop; observative and attentive to a fault, he could call your bullshit from a mile away. 

“Everything you’ve done since you got here, that’s not for him. You’re desperate for some life back in those veins. You don’t just give up being a fuckin’ surgeon and feel fulfilled with your position at a fuckin’ grocery store, Sunshine.”

“Wow, you’ve got me pegged, huh? No wonder they’ve got you after Escobar, best detective on the fucking case.” You roll your eyes refusing to look at him, sipping a beer as a way of hiding how he’s unnerved you. Everything he’s saying true and you’re ashamed of yourself.

“You don’t come down to the embassy if you’re trying to make your brother's life easier. I’m not criticizing Guapa, but how about cutting the bullshit messiah complex.”

You’re embarrassed and trying to look anywhere but him. His hand reaches for your own as Steve rounds the corner, the tanned fingers instead lock around the shot glass in front of you. 

“So, what’d I miss?”  Your voice is lodged in your throat, you don’t think you could speak even if you could think of the words you wanted to use. Javi answers in some nondescript way you don’t even really listen to before ordering another round of drinks.

“Y/N/N, You alright?” Steve asked, ever the concerned brother.

(your nickname)

“Yeah, Javi- uh, he saw my cv.” It wasn’t a complete lie but you still feel bad for using past trauma to make your brother skirt around the issue in the way you knew he would.

“Oh, Uh… Drink?” Steve stared at you, uneasy. 

“Yeah, a drink would be great.” Your voice is monotone to even your ears, you reach forward and down the beer in front of you, desperate for this awkwardness to be over and the feeling in the pit of your stomach to vanish. You’re happy to say after around ten minutes of the two men holding up the conversation, it atleast eases slightly.

There’s a lull as you all wait drinks arrive and you have managed to regain your basic motor skills. This is the selfishness Javi is talking about. Steve needs a good night, without feeling crappy about his damaged sister stealing the lime-light. So putting your best foot forward you look across to Javi and smile.

“So, how was Connie?”

“She’s good! She’s enjoying getting back to work, her sister’s having Liv during the day.” Guilt swells in your stomach once again. You should be there making Connie’s life easier, but instead you abandoned her to play the hero in Colombia. The shame spiral is slowly clawing at your stomach, as you force yourself to take a deep breath. 

“That’s good…” You’re saved by the bell, or rather the waitress bringing over the tray of beverages. Taking your beer first, you reach across and controversially take two of the shots. Both men chuckle at your bravado as Javi asks the woman for an extra shot.

The night continued on much like that, minus the regret whirlwind as the tequila seemed to help get rid of any real self reflection. The three of you didn’t even make it to the discotheque, as by the time the bar closed, the three of you began the short walk home, you were carrying the large box of pizza that you had insisted on ordering.

Surprisingly, Steve was the drunkest of your trio. His phone call with Connie had sent him into his own spiral. He began drinking tequila like it was water, to the point Javier had thrown in the towel, deciding he’d much rather like to live to see tomorrow. So with your pizza in one arm and your other wrapped around your brother's waist, you and Javi half carried Steve home and up the stairs into the apartment. 

The two of you unceremoniously dumped him on his bed, carefully you placed the pizza box you had cradled to your breast on the chest of drawers before you stepped forward past Javier. 

You pulled Steves boots off of his feet and pulled his legs up onto his bed, taking his belongings out his pockets; yes, including his gun, you placed them on the bedside table. You then placed a glass of water and an aspirin next to them, feeling sympathy for his head tomorrow morning. 

Happy that your job was done, you shut the light off and went into the living room, once again cradling the pizza. Javier was slouched on the sofa/your bed flicking through your Spanish introduction book, as you entered the room he threw it back on the table and pointed at the empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table.

“Got any more?”

“Think, that was his last one…” you shrug.

“Come down to mine for a drink? I don’t like how we left things.”

“No more talking?” Javier looks at you reproachfully, scanning your body as if the direct proposition you’d accidentally given him was the last thing he expected. “Uh- I mean- no more hard questions and no more...touching.”

“Alright.” He nods, pushing himself up with a sigh. “But if there’s no more touching, I get half of that pizza Sunshine.”

You nod and smile, following him down the stairs to his apartment. As you cross the threshold emboldened by tequila, you don’t dwell on your self destructive tendencies as Javier’s recent comments would’ve made you if you were sober. 

You’re tired and all you want is a drink of whiskey, some pizza and for Javier to give you that smile, the one that makes the side of his mustache raises and reveals the pearly white of his teeth. Dropping the pizza down on the coffee table you make yourself at home, sitting very deliberately on the couch he hadn’t screwed someone else on. If he notices, Javi didn’t say anything. 

He hurried over, cigarette balanced in between his lips as both hands were taken up. One holding two glasses and the other cradling the whiskey. He sits himself down with considerably more grace than you had, on the other sofa. You reach down the side of the sofa where you spy the remote peeking out from beneath the leather cushion and begin skimming through the channels until you find the telenovelas you'd unironically begun watching since arriving in Colombia.

Opening the box of Pizza, you take a slice and begin devouring the meal. It’s not quite like pizza as you know it, but it's tasty and full of carbs to soak up the alcohol so you can’t find a fault with it.  The two of you eat in silence for around half an hour.

It seemed neither of you were eager to break the silence after the daunting conversation from earlier. It’s as you’re taking your first sip of whiskey watching two women argue in Spanish on the television you decide to speak.

“I figure I owe you some answers.”

“You don’t owe me shit, Sunshine.” He’s leaning back in his seat, whiskey balancing on his knee and a fresh smoke in his hand.  “Sure I’m intrigued, but I'll figure you out in the end. Miami’s own angel of death?”

You chuckle at how close to the mark he is as he makes a shot in the dark. “I’m gonna need a refill if we’re gonna talk about our feelings…”

“Feelings… woah, woah, woah. I didn’t sign up for that.” He has a brazen smirk on his face, as he takes the now empty glass from your palm and fills it up. You down a second and he repeats the task.

“I killed a kid,” You wheeze as you wince from the burn turning your head towards the television and nursing the now full whiskey glass between your hands. “You asked why I gave up becoming a surgeon. I... I was the lead resident on a fuckin’ appendectomy. I could do that shit in my sleep. I perfed the abdominal wall as I was geting ready to close him up; a tiny fucking knick. There were no bleeders and his vitals remained normal, didn’t even notice I’d done it.  It was as they were taking him back to the ward, he just crashed.”  

You finish another glass and as your eyes water, you pretend it's the burn of the alcohol. You breathe heavy, your upper lip quivering. You’ve heard of the sensation but never felt it. 

“I froze. I opened him up in the lift, by the time I got back in there, he’d bled out. A twelve year old; Justin Miller. Just a fucking kid.” Javi doesn’t try to interrupt or make you feel better, which honestly made the whole thing easier. 

“His mom sued the shit out of me and the hospital, can’t say I blame her. I took a sabbatical and when it was time to go back, I couldn’t. Couldn’t go into the OR without having a fuckin’ panic attack.” You hadn’t met Javi’s eyes for the entirety of the one-sided conversation, scared that when you looked up you’d no longer find those treacle eyes filled with warmth. 

Silence fills the air for a devastating second whilst Javier digests your words.

“You fucked up.” He mumbled finally,  your eyes shot up to his own and within the pools of chocolate you found his usual warmth, though his customary jovial expression was suddenly somber. Such an expression looked strange on the gentle man you’d come to know, but you knew it was far from out of place. “In our line of work, you mess up; someone dies. It’s not fair or easy, just is what it is.”

You don’t have a word for the noise you make, somewhere between a scoff and a gasp. You chuckle as his response to years of complex trauma you’ve never recovered from is boiled down to five simple words.

“It is what it is.” You repeat disbelieving.

“Can’t change the past. Useless to try.”

“Stuff it down with the brown?” You ask, lifting your empty glass in a cheers.

“Exactly, Guapa.” He unscrewed the whiskey bottle and began pouring you a generous portion. As he’s screwing the lid back on he sits back down, this time though he’s on the couch next to you. “Maybe someday I’ll get teary and we can talk about my fuck ups.”

Your only response is to punch at his hard thigh next to you as you take a long sip, thinking about the information you’d willingly just divulged to Javi.  “I’ve never talked about that before.”

“Not with Steve?”

“Not with anyone. I was ashamed for a long time, still am. But it’s different now; more manageable.”

“Ready to operate then, Doctor Murphy?”

“Asshole.” You say with a reluctant smile to the joke at your own expense.

“pendejo” he leaned back on the sofa as he translated. 

“pen-dejo?”

“Si muy bueno.”

“Another!” 

“Coger!”

“Co-g-er?”

“Si insistes…” He trails off with a smirk.

“You’re a dick.” 

“Yes, I am.”

After placing your drink on the coffee table, you lean over to Javi slowly, refusing to break eye contact, all the while and you lay your head on the plush leather of the sofa; nearer his shoulder than his own face. 

“Thankyou, Javi.” 

“I keep telling you, Sunshine. It’s nothing”

“It’s everything,” You close the distance and place a kiss on his lips. It’s neither heavy nor chaste, like when he initiated them. This is full of meaning, It speaks of letting go of the past and welcoming the future, it's deep and warm and delicious. Your tongue licks at his own as your hand rises to rest on his cheek holding him there, you explore the depths of his mouth instead of conquering them. He tastes of the whiskey and somehow residual tequila, you find yourself getting drunk off of the taste of him. 

Pulling away you rest your forehead against his own. “I’m so tired… and drunk.”

“Sleep with me.”

“Javier, you said- I mean, I don’t think-”

“No, sleep. Just sleep... with me. Gotta be better than the couch up there,”

“No funny business?”

“Scouts honor.”  After a moment of contemplation you decide that this was specifically breaking the rules of your selfishness, the tequila may have altered your perception of the rules somewhat but you had wanted this man for so long. After your emotional confession, falling asleep next to him seemed cathartic.

You take the remote once more and click the red power button, the screen goes black as Javier has already disappeared into his bedroom. You hear him rummaging around in his drawers as you cross the threshold. Once he’s seemingly found what he was looking for, he holds the article up to your inspecting eye. 

It’s a plain olive green v-neck tee, nothing particularly special about it, but it would do as pyjamas, so you accept it gratefully, much preferring a tshirt to the sundress you’d worn out to dinner. You push the straps off of your shoulders, letting them fall under your armpits as you clutch the dress to your front. You pull Javier's t-shirt over your head and are greeted by the fragrance you’d come to love. It smelt like washing powder, spice and cigarette smoke, you wouldn’t say smoke was on your top tier of smells list but it reminded you of Javi so you couldn’t bring yourself to turn your nose up at it. 

Once the shirt was covering all the important bits, you lowered your dress and stepped out of the offending cloth. 

“A little late for modesty, eh?” He smirks as he lights his cigarette, leaning against the pillows of the bed. He was referring to the morning after you’d arrived in Colombia, where you’d walked through this very apartment, bare as the day you were born. 

At some point Javi had rid himself of his dress shirt and dropped onto the bed still wearing his jeans. You shimmy your bra down the sleeve of the tee, to make a point. Winking at him as you finally pull it free. You fling it on top of where your dress lay abandoned. 

“You’re still a perv for that.” You smile fondly at the man as you clamber over to your side of the bed. He’d taken the left, closest to the door. He doesn’t reply as you make yourself cosy, under the thin blanket of the duvet.

You roll over to face him, he seems to be miles away. 

“Where’d you go?” You ask softly, though he startles still. 

“I’m right here,” He deflects, leaning over to the ash tray to stub the smoke out.

“Ok…” You roll your eyes as he turns off the lamp and lies flat on the bed next to you. The two of you are silent for a while. It’s not quite awkward but it's definitely not comfortable silence, the two of you know the implications of your decision tonight. Even if Javi is being a perfect gentleman. Your eyes have yet to acclimate to the dark as you stare out trying to search for his form. 

“Stop staring at me.”

“It’s dark, I’m not staring at anything.” You reply to his childish remark. You hear a chuckle catch in his throat. He seems then to have finally made his decision, he reaches forward and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest. You go to stop him, but there's nothing to stop. He makes no further move as he holds you there. Your cheek rests on the overheated skin of his pectoral, it has just enough give to be comfier than any pillow you’ve ever encountered. 

“Maybe, I’ll tell you about my fuck ups one day.” He whispers into your hair, despite the way he says it being non-committal there's a promise behind the words. You don’t reply, already drifting off into the best sleep you’ve had since arriving in Colombia, or perhaps ever. 

A part of your brain registers Javi placing a kiss on the crown of your head as your eyes finally shut, though it is quickly replaced by the singular thought of ‘God, I hope I don’t drool all over him.

                                                       “You sober?” You look up at the clock on the bedside table that reads 5am. You’d been asleep for about four hours. You make a non committal noise in your throat. 

“Javi?” You mumble sleepily, the man behind you is peppering kisses on your neck.

“You want this?” Again you groan, this time however, you nod your head. His arm rises to wrap around your neck, arching your back to get you closer to him. “Do you want this?”

“God yes.” You gasp, pushing your hips back against his bulge. His hands release your stomach as he kisses down your neck once more. His hands are hard on your flesh as they map out your body in the dark.

His hands continue to roam your body as they slide under his shirt, they land on your breasts, he can’t help himself as he weighs them in his hand. He groans in your ear at the feel of them in his palm. You’d always had Javier down as an ass man, he’d nearly burnt a hole through your jeans the night you’d met. But apparently Javi was a man of many tastes as he worshiped your nipple with the pads of his fingers, rolling the sensitive bud through his thumb and forefinger. 

You groan at the sensation and push yourself back into him, desperate to feel every inch of his body against your own. You pull away suddenly and he makes a guttural sound in the back of his throat, though all of his questions are answered as you pull his shirt over your head and throw the offensive fabric across the room. As Quick as a flash he’s back on you, his mouth attached to your neck, giving you absolutely no quarter. 

He’s the one bucking into you this time and that seems to awaken part of your brain, your hands reach behind you they’re clumsy from sleep and the angle you have is awkward, you struggle with the button of his jeans for a second before his hand leaves one of your breasts to undo it for you. His hand returns as quickly as it left though it doesn't stay there for long as it slowly roves south, stroking the flesh of your stomach and making your entire being tighten up in anticipation as he feels you through your boy shorts. His touches are light at first, testing and exploring your body, before his fingers begin teasingly rubbing at your clit seeming to delight in the way, your wetness seeped through your underwear.

You force your brain back to the task at hand as your hand finds his abdomen and lowers through the hair lurking below his zipper, mimicking the actions he had performed on you moments before, however you have no intention of teasing. 

They find their mark, and you have to stop yourself from gasping. You’d felt him on the sofa that night but my god, your imagination hadn’t done him justice as your hand just about closed around him as you pumped him awkwardly behind you. He groaned in your ear and began whispering in a blend of Spanish and English.

His hands rise to dip under your panties, they brush across your mound before they find their home. His fingers barely touch you at first, seeming to be getting the lay of the land. After a moment of teasing, a single solitary finger swipes slowly along your slit, gathering the evidence of your arousal on his fingers. 

He groaned in your ear. “So fucking wet, that sweet little cunt is so ready for me…” Instantaneously you lose all motor skills as your body goes into shock, Javier’s dirty mouth would be the death of you.

Fucksake Y/N he wasn’t even inside of you, yet here you were writhing in his arms like a wanton whore from a single sentence. 

Your reaction seemed to spur him on as he let go of your body and rolled you onto your back. He swung around on his knees to fit between your legs. His hands rested on your hips, gripping onto the panties that lay there before he rolled them down your legs and threw them behind him. He leaned forward on his elbows, to stare at the most intimate part of you. 

Javi began kissing down your thighs, placing small bites along the sensitive skin along the way, getting closer and closer to the throbbing warmth of your pussy. 

“I meant what I said, cariño. I want to know how you taste.” Your mind is brought back to that church, the way he had you pushed against those bars, you didn’t think your body could constrict any further. You were desperate for any kind of contact. And you knew right there and then that you had been right; This man would destroy you. 

He struck then, much like a cobra towards his prey. His tongue flattened against your warmth, breaching your folds and catching on your clit.  The tip of his tongue was skilled as it danced along your bud, drawing cry after cry from you as your hands grabbed at his short ink black hair. 

He takes one final lap at your swollen clit before his tongue goes lower, he pushes through and sinks his tongue inside of you. His nose, that you’d appreciated for its character bumped perfectly against your clit making stars shoot behind your eyes.  You clenched around his tongue, desperate to be filled, he seemed to get the message as two fingers were quickly buried in your aching hole. 

“So fucking tight,  Guapa, I don’t know if I can fit three...te lo vas a tomar tan bien.” His tongue had risen back up to your clit, the combination of the vibration and filth of his words made a whimper drop from your lips, before he started rotating his tongue in circles around your swollen bud as his two fingers pumped in and out of your cunt at a thundering pace drawing you closer and closer to the edge as the minutes went by.

Finally, his fingers curled inside you as he sucked your clit into his mouth and all at once you were pushed off the cliff. You couldn’t tell what pushed you over that first peak so quickly, maybe it was the fact that it was Javier, the man who had been plaguing your dreams since you arrived in Colombia, currently between your legs devouring your cunt like a starving man, perhaps it was a culmination of five days of foreplay, but whatever the reason, when you fell, you fell fucking hard. 

You clenched around Javi’s fingers like a vice, so much so he hissed into your pussy and began thrusting his fingers faster. Spots clouded your vision as your whole body curved upwards and around the man giving you this pleasure as your legs clamped around his head and your fingers must have scratched his scalp as your hips thrust, riding his face to your peak. You were as taut as bowstring before the tension finally snapped and your body exploded in euphoria. You let out a cry as you crescendo on Javi's talented tongue.

He didn’t stop straight away, even after your body slumped back against the bed, he coaxed you through the aftermath of your orgasm, lapping at your entrance and drinking your come like it was the most delicious wine he’d ever sampled, groaning all the while.

Finally, he pushed himself forward, kissing at your thighs, your mound and finally your stomach as he came to rest over you, holding all his weight on his elbows. His face met your own as he kissed you deep, fucking your mouth with his tongue as he had done your pussy moments before. He leans back rubbing at your stomach, at your hips, at any flesh he can get his hands on. 

“Sabes mejor de lo que podría haber imaginado precioso.” He whispers against your breast as his mouth locks around your nipple. Javier Peña speaking Spanish did things to you, even if he hadn’t been stimulating your breasts you knew for a fact you’d be just as wet from hearing him speak in what you could only assume was a first language from the ease with which it left his mouth. You wished more than anything you could understand what was undoubtedly the filth coming from his mouth. 

You had recovered enough from his assault on your clit, to move your hands from your sides. They raised up and traced the tanned skin on his chest. He really was beautiful. He pulled back to stare at you, giving you a clearer view of his body.

He was muscled yet lithe and you took a self indulgent moment, committing the sight of him to memory, before your hands wrapped around his cock, which was standing to full attention through the undone zip of his jeans. He was what must have been unbearably hard, if you’d have had light to see, you had no doubt the head of his cock would be purple, straining with need. You pushed his jeans further down, recruiting your feet to push them down over his ass. Your hands roamed down to squeeze at the bountiful offering of meaty flesh. 

He chuckled as you pinched his cheek, before lifting his knees one at a time and kicking his jeans off of the bed and before you knew it he was lining himself up, brushing the head of his cock through your wet folds. Despite his groan at the contact, he had the discipline to check a final time. “This is what you want, Y/N?”

You didn’t bother to answer, you pushed his hand away from his cock, and pushed it towards your hole. You pushed your hips up against him in lieu of an answer, welcoming the head of his cock inside you. Even though all you could manage was shallow entry, the feel of him inside of you was glorious. 

 His hands, those talented, glorious hands found your own, wrapping his significantly larger ones around yours above your head. He pushed forward with one strong thrust of those lithe hips and he buried himself balls deep inside of you, rooted so deep you swear you could feel him in your cervix. He was everywhere, he was plundering every inch of you as his body surrounded your own, heat built between the two of you as sweat began coating both of your bodies. 

Every thrust brought you closer to your second peak, turning your head you couldn’t resist trying to get him to claim your mouth too. Though you couldn’t quite reach far enough to make contact, as if reading your mind Javier bent his elbow pushing his torso forward, coincidently pounding deeper into your body as your lips joined in a messy kiss.  He was fucking into you slow and deep, his tongue began following the rhythm of his cock as he claimed every single part of you as his own. 

The pace was brutally slow, just enough to get you to that edge and keep you on it, you could barely speak. You felt like you were drowning in Javier and every time you came up for air he bottomed out, meeting your hips with his own and the wave of pleasure cut off the oxygen all over again.

“Please… Javi…”

“W-what do you want Sunshine?” He panted out continuing with his slow tempo.

“Faster...please... God.” He ignored your cry for speed and continued fucking you into the matress at his own pace, though his thrusts were just as slow but they were harder. His hips hit against your own, as he put all of his power behind them, getting as deep as he could. If you didn’t know better you’d think he was trying to tunnel through to your womb. You clenched at the thought as he fucked you deep and hard. 

“... Javi…” You cried his name, a desperate plea as he kept you suspended over your peak, refusing to let you free fall. Finally he huffed, taking your legs and throwing them over his shoulders.

“You want me to fuck you properly, huh, Guapa?” He began thrusting into you at an arduous pace, the room was filled with your cries, his grunts and slapping of your connecting skin. Those telling black spots were clouding your vision, your second orgasm of the evening was fast approaching. Once again you clenched down on Javi’s thick cock. 

“I’m gonna’ come.” His hand lowered and began rubbing at your clit, not pausing for a moment as he fucked you thoroughly. 

“ven por mí...ven sobre mi polla… fuckin’ Sunshine, fucking taking my cock…. buena niña, podría follarte todo el día.” The second he lost his brain and began muttering in Spanish was the moment you were gone. You came for the second time as he was relentlessly hammering into you, drawing your orgasm from you. Your whole body braced against him, your eyes squeezed shut as you clamped down around his cock, milking him tightly.

“Fuck!” He growled at the tightness surrounding him. 

After a few moments he pulled out, quickly grabbing your and flipping you onto your stomach, after placing a pillow under your hips. He then buried himself back inside of you to the hilt his groans mixing with your own at the sensation. He kept up the pace he had before but this time the angle was deeper as he forced your legs together with his thighs. 

Javi’s hands grabbed at your ass (perhaps he was an ass man after all) slapping the meaty flesh which resided there and then instantly kneaded the tissue he’d just abused. His hands rose to carresse the skin of your hips before he took a punishing grip on them and began fucking you in earnest. Javier taking his pleasure from your body whilst you lay a drooling mess from the orgasm he’d already gave you was an image you didn’t know would turn you on, but it made you clench around his shaft as it plundered your depths. 

He began speaking again, though they were lost in a mix of Spanish and English, so much so you couldn’t differentiate. His pace was relentless and finally you felt him begin to shake as he gasped above you

“¿dónde?...w...where?”

“Come inside me, Javi.” He groaned at words and continued pounding until his hips stuttered and he brought it home and buried himself deep inside, filling you to the brim with his seed.  

The two of you lay there breathing heavy trying hard to get your breath back, half of his weight on top of you and the other half resting on the mattress.His cock was slowly going soft inside of you, yet you felt no urgency to move.

“So much for scouts honor, huh?” You ask from behind a veil of hair, turning your face which had been buried in the mattress moments before. Your voice is hoarse; completely wrecked much like the rest of you. 

He’s silent for a moment of consideration, before he leans forward in the moonlight and pushes your hair from your face. The action makes his cock shift inside of you and a little of his release spills out onto your thighs. He continues anyway and places a soft kiss on your lips before whispering “... I was never a boy scout, cariño.”

TAGLIST - Leave a message if you’d like to be added homies.

@drinkingwhileblogging @va-guardianhathaway  @jedi-jesi @obsessivelysearching @cannedsoupsucks @wantingtobekorra @littlemissoblivious @linnie0119 @pascalesque @pedrosmustache @sir-lili @obsessivelysearching @fairytale07

A/N: Fuck me that was the steamest shit I’ve ever written. This was especially for @drinkingwhileblogging and her turquoise titties, hope this makes up for me blue balling you all. 

[little-stealthy-ellie]

Is ADHD really a superpower?! I question the logic in this statement. But...

I think it depends on what context this so called superpower happens. For example...

A few years ago my sister needed to get her home in order ready for my niece to come home from hospital. My sister was also very pregnant at the time. Due to the fact her daughter had been seriously ill and being close to her due date she found it hard to get things done I went to help. I was like a whirlwind of organisational madness. I entered a room and new exactly what needed to be done and did it in no time.

But normally I couldn't organise a monkeys tea party. Which is why my bedroom looks like the aftermath of a police drugs raid.

For my sisters situation my adhd became like a superpower. I was able to sort and reorganise quickly. But it's not always the case. 98% of the time I'm a disorganised individual. The other 2% are rare moments of clarity and brilliance!

[aquamarina7]

Yin & Yang- A realistic story of Zutara & Kataang

Okay, so after obsessing over ATLA and my true OTP Zutara, I’ve went away to plan out how things could have panned out (yes it’s 2020 and yes, I should be over this by now). This INCLUDES a Kataang relationship, as I do think that they would have given it a shot, but, as we all know, not everything in your teens works out.

I also figured out how to give Aang a child so that the air nation could be continued through his lineage.

Hope you like it (fyi, this is written in note form rather than full-sentence-fanfiction. Don’t hate me)

Enjoy my obsessiveness :)

           _____________________________________________________

Zutara Head Canon:

•               Kataang post war- Help to get things back to normal across all nations with team Avatar and enjoy many adventures together as a couple. Later, they leave to travel together for 2 years as a couple. They enjoy all their firsts together- first kiss, first ‘I love you’, first ‘time’ together etc.

•               Katara finds herself pregnant at 20

                           —————————————————

•               They move to a deserted Air temple island to live together 

•               After birth of baby Tenzin, Aang’s avatar duties continue to become evermore pressing. Katara is increasingly left alone on air temple island with baby Tenzin.

•               After over a year in the current situation Katara and Aang both share their concerns:

Katara:   -Hates being alone

     - Misses her family

     - Air Temple island means nothing to her

     - Maybe did this all too quickly

     - Tenzin hasn’t even met his Grandparents yet

Aang:  - Underestimated his role as Avatar after beating Sozin. He needs to be all over the kingdoms for his work

     - Hates seeing Katara unhappy. It’s the last thing he wants. He wants to support her in anything that would make her feel better

     - In the long term, the future of the air nation is important to him

     -  Maybe they were a bit young to settle down like this, with so much going on with their life still

•               They both agree it’s best for all parties for them to split amicably. Katara moves back to the Southern Water Tribe to be around family, Aang goes with her for the move, and stays a while to see them settle.

                          ——————————————————

•               Katara spends a few years in the southern water tribe. She often see’s Sokka and Suki when they return from their own lives. She grows close to Suki as she updates her of the lives of others in the other kingdoms.

      - Toph and Uncle Iroh live in the earth kingdom. They have become close (to Zuko’s jealousy) and Toph see’s him as a parent, he, her as a daughter

      - Mai broke up with Zuko 2 years ago, she became overwhelmed with the life and pressures of a ‘to-be-fire lady’ she was never the type of girl to be ordered about, constrained and smile for the pleasure of others. Since then he has only had short flings with beautiful fire nation women who happen to stumble around the palace - This has caused strain on Suki’s relationship with Sokka, as often when Zuko and Sokka are together, Sokka seems to get involved with these ‘ladies’ as well. Katara can often sense when they are around, when they are fighting, always over the same thing-Sokka’s behaviour in the Fire Nation with Zuko. She tries to reason with him, make him appreciate Suki; often it’s too late and Suki deploys  herself to some mission with the Kirosi warriors, not to be seen again in months. She is not one to sit around and be walked over. However, most times when she returns, they kiss and make up.

•               While living with the southern water tribe they find Tenzin is an airbender. Aang is thrilled and can’t contain his excitement, however, Tenzin is still too young to go through any proper training, Katara protests.

•               Katara’s father and family LOVE Aang- he fits perfectly

•               Aang often updates Katara on all that is happening- he is working closely with Zuko on the plans for Republic City, rebuilding of the earth kingdom and plans for the air nation and the breeding of flying bison (rumours that there may be a few bison spotted in the mountains of the old air kingdom and Aang is following these)

•               Katara over the years has become a southern water tribe political representative and plans to work closely with them with to reconnect with the other nations

                        ———————————————————

•               Katara (26) Aang (24) Tenzin (5)- Katara decides to make the move to the fire kingdom for work where the main plans about republic city and the reunification of the water nations are happening.

•               Aang is thrilled as much of his time is spent flying between the south pole and fire nation. This means he can spend even more time with them. He even insists for them to live with him in the small home he has in the fire nation.

•               The move goes well and Katatra’s work really takes off. Aang still is needed in many places but they get to spend a lot more time as a family. Katara gets to see much more of extended team avatar

                     —————————————————————

•               On Tenzin’s 6th birthday Aang makes a very special request. He would like to start Tenzin’s airbending and spiritual training. We wants to take him with him to find the bisons. This will be a year long trip with limited contact.

•               Katara is hesitant, however, does understand the need for his airbending training to start (especially since his untrained bending is smashing a lot of her stuff), she also has a lot going on at work and would love Aang and Tenzin to spend some long 1on1 time together.

•               On the day they leave Katara has packed ‘the kitchen sink’ for Tenzin. “I think you may have forgotten the concept of a monk” Aang jokes nervously, knowing he cannot possibly take all of this with him on a pilgrimage. They settle on halving it and he promises to contact her as soon as they make to the earth kingdom. She sends him with some rare herbs and ice stones from the south that she insists he must get to Iroh and Toph. Aang makes her promise to look out for Zuko as he’s worried about him.

                        ————————————————————

•               Katara keeps her promise and after a meeting one day stops Zuko for a chat. He invites her out to dinner to catch up later that evening at one of the top restaurants in the fire nation.

•               When Katara arrives, she is told the table is not ready and to wait for the Fire Lord’s arrival. She waits another 40 mins, only to find Zuko sat at the table with 2 very young, very pretty fire ladies. She bursts into the curtained room. “If you invite me somewhere Zuko, HOW DARE you have me waiting while to drool over some eye candy!” she shouts and storms off. Zuko tries to chase her but cannot exit without making quite a commotion as fire lord.

•               The next day he stops while she’s leaving a meeting and apologises. He suggests reorganising the dinner. Katara declines and says she will make the plans this time. Dinner at her house, not some swanky restaurant.

•               Zuko arrives (by carriage) and is shocked by Aang’s small home “he’s the avatar, isn’t he? what’ happened?” “he’s a Monk Zuko, worldly possessions don’t matter to him”

•               Katara updates Zuko on her time with Tenzin on air temple island. Zuko tell her about finding his mother. Azula. He says he hasn’t had a home cooked meal in 3 years. He likes it

•               Over the months Zuko comes for dinner, once a week, then twice, then most nights. They learn everything about each other. They laugh, catch up. She convinces him to choose 1 girlfriend and try to make it work. One time that fire lady comes to meet Katara. Sokka finds it weird when he comes to visit and Zuko walks in for dinner. He jokes how weird this will be when Aang returns. They both awkwardly laugh.

•               After 5 months pass, Zuko suggests dinner at the palace- he will cook.  He struggles. The food is bad, Katara tries to hide it. Zuko is frustrated

•               He takes her to the turtle-duck pond and explains he has ended things with his girlfriend as his heart lies with someone else. He moves in to kiss her and she pulls away “I don’t know how I feel about this Zuko? With Aang, and you and-” Katara backs away and leaves in a hurry.

•               She disappears and goes to visit Toph. Toph has just found out she is pregnant, and the father left after finding out. Toph is in a state. She hates the idea of being pregnant. She hates the idea of giving birth. She doesn’t like the idea of a restriction on her life. She hates the father. She cries to Katara “I just wish I had the chance to really love someone and have them love me back”.

•               Katara leaves for the fire nation the next day. She rushes to the palace, through the guards, into Zuko’s office and kisses him. “I think I love you Zuko” she cries “I know I do” Zuko replies and pulls her in.

                                ————————————————————

•               Zuko suggests Katara to go with him to the earth kingdom later that week on his trip to see Uncle Iroh. Katara agrees (she probably needs to explain to Toph why she bailed on her) Katara spends the week worrying about pretty much everything from what she’s going to wear to whether this relationship is viable.

•               Zuko picks her up and they travel- things have unusually become awkward between them.

•               When they arrive at Uncle Iroh’s he is happy to see Katara. He tells her all about when Aang and Tenzin stopped to see him over their first cup of tea. Zuko smiles at the sight of Katara lighting up at the sound of her son

•               In the evening Zuko stumbles around Katara. He struggles to be his usual smooth self. They sit on the porch and Katara surprises him by taking his hand. He burns her out of shock. She runs around looking for water. Iroh sees it all.

•               When Katara is asleep Iroh talks to Zuko. He can see what is happening. He advises him to relax. The pressure that he is under is all in his head. They plan something special together.

•               Katara goes to see Toph the next day. Explains to her why she left. Explains what is happening between her and Zuko. Toph laughs uncontrollably. She tells her Zuko’s heartbeat always used to race when she was around.

•               Katara goes back to the Jasmine Dragon in the evening to find the tea shop dripping in candles and totally transformed. Zuko is sat in the middle with a plate of dumplings (Iroh made) they confront their worries and express their love. They kiss- no fire this time.

                                ————————————————

•               Over the next few months they grow together. Zuko helps Katara move into a new place. Katara studies the art of healing, Zuko if gifted a dragon’s egg, he incubates it for months and firebends it to keep warm, Zuko continues to try and pass off his chef’s cooking as his own, Katara laughs.

                             ————————————————————————

•               As summer returns once again, Katara prepares for Aang and Tenzin’s return. There is also a huge festival in town to celebrate summer’s Longer Days. Everyone is headed to the fire nation to celebrate.

•               When Aang returns Tenzin (7) had grown so tall. He wears monk robes and has beads in his hair, however, Katara is relieved he is just as excitable and energetic as he was before, though, he does take mediations 4 times a day very seriously.  He has sworn off meat and politely turns down the traditional southern tribe meal she has prepared for some chili bread instead. He and Aang talk in an impenetrable rhythm and Katara loves to hear them dance around each other about their travels.

•               Aang is called to the Palace for a seeing with Zuko.  Zuko is very nervous and Aang can tell. They talk business a short while. He thanks Zuko for moving Katara and looking out for her. “She’s so much more happy lately” “Well that’s because of you and Tenzin returning” Zuko panics “No, even when we wrote to her while we were away; I expected her to be panicked, manic even! You know her. But she was so supportive and I could really feel like she was putting herself first for once” 

Zuko takes him to see his dragon egg. Zuko is nervous and every time he begin to open up about what has happened over his time away he trips over his words, looses his confidence or beings smoking out his ears. 

Aang senses his tenseness and drags him outside excitedly- this is a perfect chance to show his friend the new meditation techniques he’s learnt on his travels. They sit across from each other on the grass cross-legged. Aang gets him into a state of serenity and openness and the words begin to fall from Zuko’s mouth. “If you want to kill me, I understand. Some would duel, an Agni Kai, banishment? However you want to deal with me, I just want you to know I respect you and your decision, whatever it may be, and I truly love Katara” Zuko bows at the feet of Aang (something a  fire lord would never be seen to do).  

“This is………..WILD!” Aang springs up. Zuko peers up slightly from his stance. “I mean this is crazy! You two together, I mean I really should have seen this coming” he chats to himself “So this means you are…?” Zuko asks. Aang lifts Zuko up to his feet. “You make each other happy. I can see it. And I’m happy for you” Zuko uncharacteristically pulls Aang in for a tight hug and Aang can feel him warming up. “Zuko. You can let go know” Aang squeaks after a few too many moments pass. Zuko quickly lets go and clears his throat “erm, yeah. Thanks man” he casually shakes out when wiping away a tear.

                         ——————————————————————

•               2 years pass. Zuko continues to come for dinners and stay the night, this time with Tenzin around and often Aang is a welcome guest. Aang and Tenzin are inseparable, and they raise their newly born bison together. When Aang leaves for his duties Tenzin cries but is comforted by his favourite gifts from his Uncle Zuko- a blanket, dream catcher, and stuffed toy bison. He also shows him cool fire tricks and helps with his training. Zuko’s dragon finally hatches, he names it Heti and becomes overly maternal to it. Its heart-warming for Katara to see him in a parental light and confirm to her, a future with him is possible.

•               One summer, while Aang is away, Zuko takes Katara and Tenzin to Ember Island for a rare holiday. Tenzin plays in the sand and creates mischievous sand tornadoes. Katara water bends waves and teaches Zuko to surf, Zuko host bonfires in the evening and fights with Katara to tell stories of their adventures to Tenzin. He loves them.

Katara (28) Aang (26) Zuko (29) Tenzin (9)

·       Zuko proposes on he and Katara’s first trip to the Southern Water tribe. They planned to go to introduce him properly to her people. Zuko was reluctant to leave Heti behind as he is too young to be in such cold, however, feels assured that he left him with Aang to take care of. (Tenzin is also there, and he and Heti get on like a house on fire). When he arrives he can barely stand the cold and finds it weird to sleep all together in huts rather than the large separate rooms he grew up in. Katara’s father teaches him to fish, he listens to the issues of the community as fire lord, he races Sokka on the wolves. He eats traditional food and tracks the stars. One night, when the moon is at it’s fullest Zuko gets down on one knee and proposes to Katara with a green emerald ring. When she accepts, he releases fire-bent fireworks from his palms and they watch awe (he tell her how he has been trying to perfect this technique for months for this very moment) “it’s perfect” she whispers.

·       Zuko and Katara get married 8 months later. A small ceremony on Ember Island with their close ones. Iroh officiates, Sokka cries, Aang grins, Toph whoops. They dance on the beach and partake in a special tea ceremony. 

Katara’s coronation as Fire Lady is much larger. It’s in the fire nation, thousands gather, Zuko has never seen her so beautiful-he is shocked. She moves into the palace and he finally has someone to share his large bed with. Tenzin hides from his tutor in the palace, however, when he’s around, Zuko seems to always know the spots where he is hiding. Aang decides to fully become a monk and swears off his home, possessions, romantic relationships and money. Katara’s marriage and role as fire lady finally unifies the fire and water nations and installs confidence into the water tribes.

                                      ----------------------------------------------------

·       In Katara’s first pregnancy, Zuko is overprotective and nervous. He never seems to catch the baby kicking. He paces for hours when Katara is in labour. It scares him when he hears her screams and, breaking tradition, he runs in to comfort her. They have a Son- Iroh II - a firebender.

·       On her second pregnancy a year and a half later the opposite happens, the baby kicks all night and Zuko always feels it. Katara is exhausted most of the time and feels bigger than a whale. She waddles around the garden most days with Zuko and Heti by her side. She gives birth in what feels like seconds, on the floor of Zuko’s study. It turns out to be twins- A boy, Roku (Waterbender), and a Girl, Zaya (Firebender).

·       Katara’s 3rd pregnancy is quite a few years later and quite a surprise to Zuko. It is in the winter and Zuko spends most nights keeping his wife and baby warm. Roku is the only one who seems to make the baby kick. They baby is 2 weeks late. Zuko tries everything to try and get Katrara onto labour, hot chillies, water therapy, even a very bad song, which doesn’t start labour, but makes Katara laugh. She never lets him forget it, to his embarrassment. They finally have a girl, a waterbender named Kya.

                           ----------------------------------------------------------

·       As Tenzin grows, he goes on more trips with his father, then pilgrimages of his own. He balances out into quite the soothing personality. When he is home the children seem to calm down and listen to him more than anyone- to Zuko’s delight. He gives them all lessons in mediation and control of their bending. He wrestles with the twins, feeds the baby and practices duelling with Iroh. Most of all he lays and trains with Heti- he seems to have a way with animals.

·       Iroh is smart and dedicated to mastering bending. He and Tenzin often disappear and return days later having learnt and, quite dangerously, trying out new styles they have read- these often end up with someone getting hurt or something in the house brunt or smashed. Katara is constantly chasing them to stop. Zuko watches them, takes notes and tries it himself late at night while no one is around (lol).

·       The twins are the loudest and are always at odds. They embody the yin and yang-ness of fire and water and each other. Unlike their parents, they have not found the point of balance between the two. They only time they seem to get along is when they are up to mischief, which is the only thing they seem to agree on. Ruko is confident with bending, Zaya is scared of hers, it takes her much longer to bend. She often trains with Uncle Aang to teach her not to fear fire and how to bend it.

·       Kya is cheeky and a daddy’s girl. Often Zuko can be found late at night having worked late with a sleeping Kya on his chest, both snoring. She seems to be able find water anywhere and someone in the palace can always find her in a wet mess.

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·       Tenzin continues his father’s mission through is life to resurrect the air nation with his own wife and children. He also finds and nurtures the first heard of Bison the world has seen in a century.

·       Iroh goes onto become a master firebender. He works to write down the art of firebending and at the age of 42 becomes Fire Lord.

·       The twins in their youth go on to become to become pro-benders and compete as a team- to their fathers distain- it is unbecoming as prince and princess. As they mature, Roku travels the world and Zaya goes on to become a general in the army

·       Kya as an adult moves to the southern water tribe permanently to live with the water benders as a healer. 

·       Katara and Zuko live a long life together. Katara finds her job as Fire Lady challenging and uncomfortable at times and argues with Zuko and the council about tradition. Zuko becomes an honourworthy Fire Lord and is respected by all. They together are remembered as the shining example of cooperation and love for all opposites and nations.

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[Forgive me for having any age gaps or locations wrong]