#pasta and steps secret talent both in one day
Note
Hi hi! I’d just like to say you are so talented and I loved what you did with my last request! I was hoping to request another Jonny Goodman fic where the reader is Jim’s daughter or granddaughter (around Jonny’s age) that lives with him and they’ve been kinda dating in secret for a while so they could have some sense of normality before their families found out but then they finally tell them one night during dinner. Lots of fluff preferably! Thanks so much 💜 ~🐝
Things Don't Always Go According to Plan
Pairing: Jonny Goodman x reader
AN: Sorry this took me so long to write Tumblr deleted all of the work I had done so I had to rewrite it all. Also, I changed the ask just a bit so that the reader is Jim’s niece and because I came up with a really funny antic I wanted to include.
It was once again time for the winter holidays, which means that more of your boyfriend’s crazy family is in town. You and Jonny had been dating for quite a while but had yet to tell either or your families; maybe because your uncle is infatuated with his mum. You both had tried announcing the news but nothing ever seemed to go as planned (where would the fun in that be?) so you came to the agreement that the upcoming holidays would be the best time.
On Christmas Eve you had gone over to Jonny’s flat to go over the plan one last time but you both got carried away, as usual, once you made dinner together and opened a bottle of wine and eventually moved onto something stronger after realizing what you were getting yourselves into the next day. The next morning you both woke up with hangovers and decided to take your time eating breakfast and getting ready for the day. As Jonny made breakfast for you both, you were relieved when you remembered that you had left clothes at his flat because your clothes from the night before where in no condition to be worn before washing again having been strewn across the bedroom the night prior.
You both had been enjoying a nice quiet breakfast when it had to been interrupted by a call from none other than Jonny’s annoying older brother Adam. All you heard from the other room was “You shit head! Don’t you dare tell mum!” Before Jonny came bursting back into the kitchen where you were cleaning up. “We need to go, Adam is going to tell my mum that I got drunk last night and that now I’m really hungover.” He told you.
“You know, he’s not wrong. But it probably is a good idea. My uncle Jim just texted me, it’s just a jumble of letters that I can’t understand, but still a good idea.” You tell him before you both rush out the door to Jonny’s car.
Jonny drops you off at your Uncle Jim’s house so that no one suspects anything but before you leave you remind him “Text whenever you think it best for me to head over and I’ll sneak out so your mum doesn’t have to deal with my crazy uncle yeah?”
“Of course. Love you!” He tells you before you kiss goodbye and go your separate ways for the time being.
When you step inside the house you are surprised that Wilson is not running to greet you and that you have to go find your uncle. “Uncle Jim! Where are you?” You call out.
“Ah Y/N. We’re in the kitchen. Wilson has been drinking again.”
“You can’t keep letting Wilson drink. Alcohol can be poisonous for dogs.” You say, annoyed having already had this conversation before.
“I know, he’s just too fast for me.” Jim says after flinching away from Wilson who turned to look at him.
“Ok, why don’t you just move it to one of the higher cupboards so he can’t reach it.” You suggest.
“That is a lovely idea. We should go tell Jackie about it!”
“Maybe later? I have to go get ready to meet some friends in a little bit.” You say as you head upstairs to your room.
By the time you finish up getting ready, working on some assignments for Uni, head back down stairs, and hear from Jonny, Jim and Wilson are no where to be found. You figure that they are probably out for a walk again so you head down the street to the Goodman’s house.
You ring the doorbell and you are almost immediately greeted by Jackie. “Hello, love! How are you doing? Would you like to pop in for a moment? Jonny told us you might be stopping by.”
“Thank you so much Jackie. I’m doing well so far today. Has my Uncle Jim been by? He wasn’t at the house when I left.”
“Well, we haven’t seen him in the past hour but that means that he is probably due to pop round soon. Why don’t you come through and meet everyone. Maybe you’ll even get to meet Jonny’s mystery girlfriend. He said she’s stopping by today!”
You give an awkward chuckle as Jackie leads you to the living room where you immediately notice Jonny’s new jumper with a winged cow on it? “Lovely jumper Jonny. I think it’s the best looking one you own.”
“Ha ha, very funny. I’m sure if Mum knew you were coming by you would have one too.”
You give a laugh and go sit next to Jonny while he gives Adam his present. When Adam opens his gift all of the leftover spaghetti from the previous night spills onto his trousers.
“Jonny, are those the leftovers from last night?” You ask.
“It sure is! Skill!”
“That’s why you had us make extra.” You said before you realized what it meant.
You and Jonny both freeze, realizing what you both just revealed.
“Wait, what did you just say?” Adam asked with a sly smile, knowing what he just discovered.
“Nothing.” You and Jonny say very quickly, trying to cover what you just let slip.
“No, you just said that you were together last night!” Jackie said, getting more excited. “What happened? Are you two dating? Is she the mysterious girlfriend you’ve been talking about Jonny? This is so wonderful!”
Before either you or Jonny could respond Martin butted in. “Is anyone going to take that?” He said gesturing to the pasta still in Adam’s lap. “No? I’ll take it then.”
“Pigs, all of you.” Martin’s mother comments.
“Jon Jon, answer your mother’s questions.” Nellie reminds.
“Ugh fine.” Jonny says, looking over at you to make sure you were ok with the information he was about to disclose. You nod in confirmation. “Yes, we’re dating. Yes, she’s the girl I told you about and as you can see she is very much real. We were going to tell you today which is why she came over last night for dinner.”
After Jonny finishes his “speech” his mum and grandma swarm the two of you to give you hugs and kisses. Adam of course joins in just to annoy Jonny.
Maybe just to ruin the moment Martin’s mother butts in again. “Has anyone seen Budiseer since I let her outside?”
Everyone turns around to look out the window.
“Yeah, Grandma. She’s fine. She’s outside with Wilson? Watching her from behind?” Adam says, getting more concerned the more he sees.
“Oh great.” You say.
AN: I have no idea if I spelled the dog’s name right so if I didn’t please let me know and I’ll fix it.
#friday night dinner x reader#friday night dinner#jonny goodman x reader#jonny goodman x reader imagine#x reader#x reader oneshot#x reader one shot#x reader imagine#x reader imagines#fanfiction#fan fiction#x reader fanfiction#friday night dinner imagine#johnny goodman#johnny goodman x reader#tom rosenthal#tom rosenthal x reader
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The new (and last 😭)sweater weather chapter put this situation in my head and I don’t have the talent to make it real:
How would Remus react after he learns he can be a player on the team? and how does the rest of the team react? and how does the media react? and what does Sirius say? and what is his first game like? And what does Jules and his family think? AND AND AND ????
Of course u don’t have to do anything and I adore your writing just thought I would share some of my frantic ramblings.
I’m getting lots of ones like these! My brain has been spinning with so many ideas but one that stuck with me were Remus’ old superstitions.
Characters and their wonderful world by @lumosinlove
Half Sheer Dumb Luck
Calf stretches before thigh
Remus just stared at coach Weasley.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“We’d like to offer you a place on the team.”
Remus wasn’t sure he could trust himself to blink, never mind talk. “Is this a joke?”
Arthur stepped forward, his face calm and reassuring. “Remus, no, of course not. I’m your friend. I wouldn’t do that to you. We, all of us, the organisation, the team, we’ve reviewed your tapes. We’ve seen you play. And we want you on the team.”
“The team knows.” It was a statement, not a question.
Arthur nodded.
“Sirius knows.”
He nodded again.
“This is real?”
Arthur smiled as he nodded this time. “As real as me standing here right now.”
“I’ll have to be ready.” Remus’ hands were shaking. “There’s so much to do.”
Coach stepped forward and placed his hand on Remus’ shoulder. “Yeah, there is. But I don’t think there’s a better man up for the job.”
“Oh my god.” Remus thought his knees were going to give way.
Arthur grinned and pushed Remus away from him lightly. “Now go talk to your boy. Not being able to tell you has been killing him.”
Remus nodded and walked away in a daze. Sirius was right where he left him, chatting to Thomas and Noelle. He smiled when he saw Remus.
“He… he wants me to join the team?”
Thomas let out a whoop. “Loops knows!”
The tent went up in cheers but Remus could only see Sirius.
“Is.. Would that be okay for you?”
Sirius frowned, pulling Remus right up against his chest. “Would that be okay? Oh my love, there’s nothing in the world that I would love more.”
Remus laughed, tears beginning to pool in his eyes. “I’m going to be on the Lions.”
Sirius kissed him, slow and filled with love. “You already are.”
“I’m going to have to train non-stop.”
“I’ll help you.”
“You’ll train over the summer?” Remus asked disbelievingly. Sirius kissed his forehead, then his nose and finally his lips. “I’ll do anything for you.”
The rest of the team then decided they had enough waiting and piled on, a massive group hug in the middle of the wedding reception, Remus right in the centre.
Two bottles of water on the bench.
“Mom, I have some news.” Remus said over the video call, his voice shaking. He could practically see his mother looking at his hand to see if there was a ring.
“It’s not that mom jeez, can you grab dad and Jules too?”
Remus waited until they were all together for him to speak again.
“So, the Lions organisation found my old tapes.” He began, “They started looking after they saw me play at family skate.”
Jules was just listening, bouncing in his seat waiting for Remus to get to the point. His mother looked concerned, but his father looked, almost knowing.
Remus swallowed, wishing he could tell them in person - he and Sirius were visiting next week but Remus needed to tell them in order for it to feel real. He was glad he was sitting on the couch at home, he needed some sense of normality.
“I’ve been asked to join the Lions.”
“I don’t understand. You already work with the Lions?”
“No mom, not as staff. I’ve been asked to join. As a player.”
Julian let out a whoop so loud Remus might have heard it without a phone. “Re, did you say yes? You had to say yes, please tell me you said yes!”
Remus laughed, nodding his head. “Of course I said yes.”
Hope promptly burst into tears and there was a definite pool forming in his dad’s eyes.
“Oh Re,” His mother breathed, “Oh my darling this is so, so wonderful.”
“No one deserves this more than you.” His dad was saying. “I am so proud.”
“Re does that mean I get to come to all of your games! Oh my god, you’ll be famous! I mean, you’re already famous, but you’ll be more famous! Re! You’ll be rich!”
Remus burst out laughing, looking around at the ridiculously large house he was in already, “I don’t think I need the money Jules.” While his mother rolled her eyes.
Julian gasped as another thought flew into his head. “Remus! I need to get your jersey!”
Sirius walked into the room, and perked up, “Oui! We need your jersey Re!”
Remus covered his face with his hands. “I don’t even have a jersey.”
“Yet.” Sirius corrected, curling up next to him and kissing his cheek. “You don’t have a jersey yet.”
Right foot first to step onto the ice.
“Es-tu prêt?” Sirius asked as they stood outside the locker room. Remus took a deep breath in.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The clamour of the locker room was deafening, but Remus wouldn't have it any other way.. He nearly cried laughing when he saw that Nado and Kuny had decorated his new stall with pictures of Sirius, all copied and printed from social media with edits of Sirius shirtless and captions and endless heart-eyed emojis. He hugged Leo who was in the stall next to him and when he sat down to lace up his skates, he relished the feeling that he was part of the team. Because he was part of the team now, really and truly.
He met the new PT - Dorcas, with whom he knew he’d become fast friends. He also set about telling her all the ins and outs of working with the boys, their little superstitions, their tells when they were lying about their injuries. She just smiled and thanked him and told him to kindly fuck off and enjoy his first day, he could tell her all this another time.
The boys made a big show of letting Remus be the first out onto the ice (After you my good man) and while Remus rolled his eyes and smacked the back of a few heads playfully (Finn, Thomas and James), this was the moment he had waited for all of his life.
Right foot first, he stepped onto the ice.
Pasta and marinara before home games,
“Loops, what are you doing? I told you I would cook before your first game!”
Remus smiled and tilted his head up to kiss his boyfriend, placing both hands on his chest. “Baby, I love you, but you can cook precisely three dishes, and this isn’t one of them.”
Sirius pouted. “Your mom is teaching me.”
Remus nodded, “I know, that’s the only reason you can make those three dishes.”
Sirius shook his head smiling but he kissed Remus, nipping his bottom lip playfully.
“Are you nervous?”
“Terrified.”
“You’ll be incredible.”
“And if I’m not.”
Sirius kissed him. “If you’re not well then,” Sirius shrugged with one shoulder, “Then you try again next time. What was it a wise man once said? You always have more than one shot.”
Remus scrunched his nose. “That makes me sound like an old man.”
“A sexy old man.” Sirius commented and Remus just groaned. “Oh my god get out of here.”
Chicken and broccoli before away.
“Ha!” Sirius exclaimed when Remus walked into the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of his boyfriend cooking. “Je prépare le dîner ce soir.”
“... You don’t know how to make this one.”
Sirius put a hand to his chest in a wounded gesture. “You think I would give you food that is not good on a game day? Mon loup, how little faith you have.”
Remus felt a smile playing on his lips. “So you’ve magically learned how to cook?”
Sirius shook his head. “Non, that wouldn’t be magic, that would be a miracle. I have however, been taking lessons from your mother. Secret face-time lessons, when you’re out. I’m getting quite good.”
“You’ve been taking secret fact-time cooking lessons from my mother?”
Sirius nodded and held out a spoon for Remus to try. Remus dodged the spoon and kissed him instead. “I love you.”
Eggs morning of, pancakes after a win
“So,” Remus said, stepping into the locker room. “Who’s up for some pancakes?”
The roaring affirmative made Remus laugh before a warm weight barrelled into him.
“Hi Jules!”
Jules had taken to wearing both Remus and Sirius’ jersey at the same time to games, because he apparently couldn’t choose a favourite. He alternated between which one he wore on the outside. Today, it was Remus’, with LUPIN splashed across the back, the number 6 bold in the centre.
“Can I come get pancakes too?”
Sirius appeared behind Julian and threw him up into the air before setting him back on his feet, Jules giggling the whole time.
“We could never get pancakes without my favourite Lupin!”
“Hey!” Remus protested, but he looked at Julian’s set of jerseys and smiled.
“I suppose you can have two favourites.”
Finn, walking by, cupped his hands to his mouth. “Preach!”
Drag the puck around the crease twelve times.
“Hey Loops, are you coming to stretch?”
Remus smiled at James. “I’ll be over in a second Pots, I just have to do something first.”
James nodded and went to skate away before pausing. “Wait!” He looked at Remus sheepishly. “Blue?”
Remus shook his head fondly. “You’re so lucky I knew you’d ask for that.” He said ducking to grab a bottle of blue Gatorade he had taken from the kitchen for exactly this purpose. “Love you Fruit Loop!”
“Not as much as me, I hope.” Sirius commented as he stepped out onto the ice. “You coming?”
Remus shook his head. “Just gotta, you know.”
“Skate around the crease twelve times.” Sirius smirked. “I thought you weren’t superstitious.”
Remus flushed a dark red. “I’m not! But I’m not going to risk it either!” He laughed when he realised Sirius was teasing him and pushed him away lightly.
“Oh shove off, you can’t say anything.”
Sirius just continued to smirk at him as he skated backwards. “Love you too.”
Remus looked around the packed stadium as the anthem played and he pressed his star necklace to his lips. Looks like he had another tradition.
#sweater weather lumosinlove#lumosinlove#coast to coast lumosinlove#Remus Lupin#Sirius Black#coops#o'knutzy#wolfstar
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intern
pairing - bau team x teen!reader
summary - you intern for garcia at the bau
warnings - mentions of case
word count - ?
note - takes place during season 7 around 2011
you knew penelope from the minute you were born.
both of your parents were extremely close, living just a few short blocks away in san francisco. penelope was only 17 when you were born, you instantly becoming her new favorite person. her mom was even named as your godmother.
when penelope’s parents had died, yours had looked after her even though she did go underground as a hacker. despite how much penelope had changed, she was always there to check up on you and your parents.
and then she had gotten caught by the fbi of all people.
you were far to young to even comprehend what was happening. all you could remember was penelope hugging you tightly before she left. the two of you kept in contact by letters ever since that day.
now 17, you were an expert with computers. penelope was your guide, helping you learn to hack everything and anything as well as your way with all technology.
adding on to that, you were incredibly smart, taking all advanced placement courses at school. one of your classes was an internship, you had to find a local company to spend a certain number of hours a week in order to earn credit.
when penelope hears the news, mostly since she had access to your course schedule, she pulled a couple strings.
before you knew it, you were booked to have an internship with the behavioral analysis unit in washington d.c. under penelope garcia. aaron hotchner would be your ‘boss’ as he was the unit chief.
your parents were incredibly supportive, working out the details for you to stay with penelope for the semester and possibly part of the summer.
with multiple bags packed and a plane ticket booked, you were set to leave for washington d.c. in just a few short days.
____
arriving at quantico, you were more than nervous.
a car was arranged to pick you up from the airport, an agent named anderson picked you up to bring you to the bau. from there, you would be able to see penelope, meet with hotch, and get your proper paperwork and badge.
you could tell from the second you stepped in that your presence was out of place. a teenager was rarely in the bau, nonetheless one few people could connect to someone on the team.
“alright this is the floor you will be working on. garcia’s office is down the hall but through those doors over there is what we call the bullpen. that’s where the main teams desks are as well as where they do briefings,” anderson spoke, giving you a mini-tour.
“and the staring?” you asked. “that will stop soon. once they see you with agent hotchner they’ll back off. as much as i want to defend your case, i can’t say i wouldn’t act the same. this is the first teenager working at the fbi ever,” anderson informed you. “oh wow, didn’t know i was making history.”
“yeah you are, and I'm sure-” he was cut off.
“penny!” you exclaimed, rushing forward to hug the tech analyst, your luggage remaining behind you.
anderson smiled to himself, waving towards garcia before heading back to work.
“i’ve missed you so much sweetie,” penelope grinned, matching your enthusiasm. you hugged her for a little longer, overjoyed to see her after months.
morgan was next in the hallway, hugging you once penelope let go. “hey kid, how are you? school okay?” he questioned, ruffling your hair. “everything’s good derek, i’m just stoked to be here,” you grinned.
the rest of the team, to say the least, was extremely confused. there were a ton of questions running through their heads as the scene played out.
“maybe it’s morgan and garcia’s secret love child,” emily snickered, spencer and j.j. laughing too.
“i can take your bags down to my lair and we can bring them to my place after work,” penelope offered. “and i can take you in to meet hotch,” morgan piped in.
you kept your backpack with you, the three of you splitting up. morgan stayed by your side, guiding you into the bullpen.
the two of you couldn’t have been in the main roof for more than a few minutes before who you assumed was hotch was down to greet you.
“welcome y/n y/l/n, it’s nice to finally meet you,” hotch greeted, extending his hand for you to shake. you took it, nodding with a “nice to meet you too sir.”
“please, call me hotch. we can talk up in my office,” with one final smile towards morgan, you were following the into chief up for your meeting.
“so how do you know garcia?” hotch first asked.
“she’s pretty much my godmother, her mom was my official one before she passed. our parents were friends so i’ve known her for most of my life,” you explained, a smile on your face. “she taught me to hack when i was only 10.”
hotch nodded, “and you’re seventeen, correct? have you committed to any colleges?”
you shook your head no. “not yet sir. i’ve been accepted to a few but haven’t made any final decision. pennelope is pushing me to go to school around here though.”
“i’m sure wherever you go will be a good fit. but now, we have to get into some of the more official stuff. how are you managing school with this inteenship?”
“my teachers moved all of my classes online with virtual lessons and work. penelope and i have already worked out a schedule so i can focus on my work here and do schoolwork at night,” you explained.
hotch was obviously satisfied with his answer so he continued, “now with your internship, we don’t expect you to work cases with us right away. it is mostly just learning under garcia. once you feel comfortable enough and get a recommendation, you can move up.”
you nodded along, taking in the information about your job. “i can take you down to get your badge and then you can meet the team,” hotch offered. “sounds perfect.”
photos and paperwork didn’t take more than twenty minutes. you were back up, a crisp new badge clipped on your jacket, soon enough.
“my team,” hotch called. “conference room.”
with his usual ‘unit chief’ tone, no one bother to argue with him. adding on to your interaction with three out of seven members, changes were obviously happening.
you were seated on top of one of the file cabinets, morgan beside you and penelope next to him. your conversation died down once more people entered the room.
both you and morgan quickly got down, wanting to look at least a little bit professional.
“everyone, i would like you to meet our newest team member, y/n y/l/n. she’ll be interning under penelope and helping out on cases,” hotch inteoduced.
you waved to everyone, a slight smile forming on your face. “from left to right is reid, prentiss, rossi, and j.j. and your already know garcia and morgan,” hotch pointed out each individual member.
“wait i’m not following. you know morgan and garcia?” rossi asked.
“my parents knew penelope’s for a long time. i grew up with penelope pretty much as an older sister. and i know morgan since he’s visited home a few times,” you explained.
the team was already eager to get to know you, having a fresh face around, nonetheless one that was only 17, would definitely be nice. so, for your first day, you were pestered with questions. you already fit well with the team, a new member being added to their little family without problem.
____
your first week was pretty much just learning the basics of how the computers in garcia’s lair actually operated. you had your own little station in one of the corners, a few computers and monitors set up for you to work with.
two weeks in, you had your first real assignment.
it wasn’t by choice, you were supposed to start working with the gory stuff in two weeks, or a month of working there.
you absolutely loved the job with the team. oftentimes, you found yourself hanging out with either emily or j.j. for dinner and time with sergio and or henry. you went on morning runs with morgan, the two of you constantly sending each other new routes to run on. spencer helped you with your homework, planning a schedule for the idea work time like it was no issue. if you ever had a problem with school, he would always help you figure it out.
rossi found a new sense of joy in teaching you to cook. you grew up in san francisco, eating a lot of sea food and not much else. rossi changed that, making you various pasta dishes to try as well as the recipient. and hotch, hotch became an overall mentor and pretty much another dad to you. while spencer helped you with work, hotch would keep you in line with everything.
the latest case was pretty intensive on you and penelope. you did as much work as you could, you still weren’t officially clear to handle crime scene information just yet.
the one time penelope was out of her office getting coffee for the two of you, her office phone had started ringing. you quickly pushed away from your desk, your chair rolling across the floor until you were in front of hers.
“office of the most talented and magical members of the bau here. how may i help you?” you greeted. “man garcia is really rubbing off on you,” you chose to ignore that comment.
“speaking of garcia, where is she?”
you sighed, “getting coffee. what do you need?” hotch was quick to answer, “i need you too look up an unsub. name is roger clark.”
in lightning speed, you clicked away at the computer as you dug up information on the man.
“ah here his is. clark rogers was born to a frank and mary rogers. was a normal child, played sports and graduated with honors. did have a case of aggravated assault in college though he got off free since his dad was a lawyer. oh shoot, his mom died a few weeks ago,” you quickly explained.
something about a possible trigger as barely audible in the background of the call. “we need a location asap,” emily spoke.
“oh i’ve has the location sent from the minute you called,” you leaned back in your chair, most of your work already done.
hotch actually had one of his rare smiles on his face after that. “thanks so much,” he spoke. “stay safe,” you called before hanging up the call.
little did you know, your work was more than helpful. though it was minimal, small details you had provided actually proved to be useful in taking down the unsub. even penelope, who heard news of everything once she returned, was thoroughly impressed. it wasn’t super easy finding out that information as fast as you could.
all you knew is that you were guaranteed a job once you graduated.
☆ ☆ ☆
tags - @tinylumpiaa @sapphicspence @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @change-the-world-someday @ah-blossom @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @kissessforharryyy @garcias-batcave @spenceneedsahug @jjandreidsgirl @zoseph @spencerreidxoxo @marvelxmendes @kissessfordraco @ogmilkis @cm-is-kinda-cool @ssa-morgan @matthewgublerswife @spencerslatte @babyangellee @agentshortstacc
#criminal#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#emily prentiss#jennifer jareau#david rossi#penelope garcia#luke alvez#matt simmons#tara lewis#bau team#bau team x teen reader
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Breakable Heaven (pt. III) - p.l. dubois
Part I II
Here’s part III! One more part after this, then we’re going to be finishing up our time with Laurel and Pierre-Luc. It’s seriously been so so much fun writing this over the past few weeks, and I’m excited to get to keep the story going. Many many thanks to @hockeyboysiguess for being a great sounding board for Breakable Heaven so far, my favorite response of hers to anything I’ve sent has got to be “that’s rude.” So, enjoy! Reblog if you enjoy it, come scream into my inbox, and I still read every tag!
Part III
July 10 (sat)
Laurel was exhausted. Two hours after the wedding, her and her meager bridal party had shown up to her house, piling everything she hadn’t yet brought over to Pierre’s apartment into her SUV and Madeline’s white sedan. She left her old apartment with the keys at the front office and one last wistful look into the place that had once been her own. She’d miss it, she thought, as she and Pierre drove down the Ville-Marie Expressway towards his apartment, her fingers still trying to get used to the feeling of having rings on it. She’d only lived in the space for a year, but it was in that building that she started her dream job, that space that she adopted her dog, that apartment where she met one of her best friends and that place where she got married.
They had spent a few hours half-heartedly unpacking her boxes; Laurel was excited to get settled in, but she was also the world’s worst procrastinator and even at 6 PM, all that she had managed to get done was folding some clothes and adding her book collection to the shelves in the living room. Pierre poked his head into the spare room — her room? — rolling his eyes when he saw her “progress.” “I was going to order in, what do you feel like?”
Laurel hung up a blazer in the closet. “Pizza?” she asked hopefully. “Though I’m really going to have to teach you to cook one of these days. We can’t survive off of take-out and pasta alone.”
“If that’s how you want to be,” he responded good-naturedly. “I’ll have you know that I can cook more than pasta, though.”
“Really?” Laurel asked, raising her eyebrows. “What’s the Chef Dubois specialty?”
“I make a mean salmon,” he replied, before returning to the living room. That was another thing she had to get used to quickly as soon as they started going through the marriage process: Québec didn’t allow for women to take their husbands’ names at marriage. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought too deeply about, but Laurel supposed she’d always assumed that she’d take her husband’s name when she got married. But then again, she always assumed she’d get married under normal circumstances. Her parents aside, Cloquet wasn’t an absurdly conservative town, but it was still certainly something of an anomaly for a married woman to still have her maiden name. Which is what she was now. A married woman. Oh God.
--
Pizza with white wine may not have been the most conventional choice, but it got the job done, Laurel thought as she lay in bed at half past midnight, the birds outside her door insisting on making her efforts to fall asleep as futile as her efforts to ignore them. She’d already been in bed for an hour; after dinner, her and Pierre watched a few episodes of Black Mirror — also probably not the best choice to do before bed, but oh well — before he wished her a good night’s sleep. She had taken a melatonin and drank a cup of tea before bed, put on a playlist full of rain noises, but nothing seemed to be working. Maybe it was because it was the first night in a new place, or the birds outside, or just the craziness and excitement of the day catching up to her.
Laurel felt like a child again as she padded over to Pierre’s room, like she was five and back in Minnesota, crawling into her parents’ bed after hearing a wolf howl somewhere on the property. But really, she didn’t really care what she had to do if it meant she could get a good night’s rest. She knocked lightly on his door, careful not to wake up the dogs, who had long since fallen asleep in a corner of the living room. “Mmm?” he answered. She turned the doorknob. God, I hope I didn’t wake him up. She didn’t, as it would turn out; Pierre was propped up on his headboard, scrolling through his phone as he moved his eyes from his screen to her figure in the doorway. “You good? Everything okay?”
Laurel shrugged, wiggling her hand. “I don’t know what it is, I tried everything but I’m just not able to get to sleep. I’d try and wait it out, but my sleep cycle will be thrown off for a week if I’m not able to get to bed tonight.”
He moved over from the middle, reaching over to the side of his bed and getting another pillow before throwing back the covers and patting the spot next to him. “C’mere.”
“Are you sure?” Laurel said, furrowing her brow, suddenly very aware of the fact that she was wearing an old t-shirt and panties, leaving very little to the imagination.
He nodded, putting his phone down on the nightstand, smiling softly at her. “Of course. What’s mine is yours, eh?” That was all it took for Laurel to climb into the right side, claiming it as her own, and throw the duvet over her body. She fell asleep almost instantly.
---
Laurel woke up to the unmistakable smell of bacon frying and the other side of the bed devoid of Pierre’s sleeping form. She straightened the bed before walking out, where she was greeted by two plates on the breakfast bar, a pot of coffee brewing, and her husband at the stove.
“I thought you said you couldn’t cook?” Laurel teased, leaning up against the granite countertop.
“Good morning to you too.” Pierre shrugged. “I hardly think being able to fry an egg and not burn toast qualifies as cooking, but I’ll take what I can get.”
Laurel stepped further into the kitchen, lightly dragging her fingers over his back in a silent thank you as she opened the cupboard. “Let me get the coffee, at least,” she said, grabbing two mugs off the shelf and the creamer out of the fridge. “How do you take yours?” Laurel asked, glancing at Pierre from the side as he buttered the toast.
“A little bit of cream, more sugar,” he replied, sliding the plates onto the bar as she handed him his mug. “Perfect,” he said, smiling. A few minutes into breakfast, with Laurel just about to crunch into her second piece of toast, he spoke again. “So, I was thinking…”
She nodded. “I should hope so?”
Pierre laughed, ducking his head. “I was going to post something about the wedding today, online and stuff, but wanted to check with you first.” They had spoken about it once or twice before the wedding, both of them knew that it wasn’t practical nor honest to think that they’d be able to keep the news from everyone over the entire duration of their temporary marriage. And part of the “sell,” part of what she needed to prove, was that their relationship was real. And real would mean posting about each other online, real would mean flying down a few times a month — thank God her schedule gave her a long weekend, and thank God the flight wasn’t too long — for games and galas and real would mean meeting his friends and him meeting her family and Laurel had to stop thinking about it all before her head exploded.
“Go for it,” she said. “I don’t like having to hide from it any more than you do, so it’ll be a relief to let everyone know, give a heads-up to the four people on my Instagram page who actually care about my life.
Pierre poked her arm. “Five, now.” He opened his phone, scrolling through the pictures Madeline had sent from yesterday. She had run a small side business doing photography in university, and insisted on taking their photos as a wedding present. “You deserve something beautiful to look back on,” she had said. The final book wouldn’t be done for a few weeks, but she had sent over the raw shots the night before. “What about this one?” He leaned over to show her. Their foreheads were touching, his arms wrapped around her waist as they stood in the middle of one of Vieux Port’s cobblestone side streets. Laurel’s fingers brushed the back of his neck, her other hand loosely holding her bouquet. If you didn’t know, they looked like a real couple. They looked like they were in love.
“It’s gorgeous,” Laurel murmured softly. “I knew Madeline was talented, but wow. She outdid herself.”
Pierre nodded in agreement. “She did. I know I already told you, but you really did look incredible.” Laurel’s cheeks burned; she raised her mug to her lips, hopeful the oversized ceramic would cover enough of her face that he couldn’t see the effect his words had had on her. Laurel opened her own phone, scrolling through to find the matching photo. A few minutes later, he handed her his phone and she passed hers, giving their captions one last once-over before giving up their secret. Her eyes flitted across the screen.
Yesterday, I had the incredible fortune of marrying @laurel.klerken, the best person I’ve ever had the fortune of loving. I know it might come as a shock, and that we’ve kept our relationship under wraps since realizing after years of being friends that friendship just wasn’t enough any more, but this wasn’t a decision that either of us made lightly. Laurel, you’re an amazing woman, and even though it’s only been a day, an amazing wife. Whether it’s for your patients, your friends, or me, you make everyone around you feel warm, safe, and cared for beyond measure. You have a sharp wit and an even sharper mind, and I have endless admiration for how committed you are for standing up for what’s right, even when it’s not popular and even if it’s gotten you in trouble once or twice. Marriage is a partnership and a journey, and I’ve never been so excited to start a new adventure.
Laurel sniffed, not even noticing the tears pricking her eyes until Pierre handed her a tissue. “Thanks,” she murmured. “You don’t think you’re laying it on a little thick, though?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Not at all.” One tap later, and it was posted. Three minutes later, his phone rang as they were doing the breakfast dishes. Cap ❤️ flashed across the screen. Pierre grimaced. “It’s the captain. I should probably answer this one,” he said, pressing the speaker button as he dried his hands on a spare towel.
“You’re married,” Nick Foligno said, wasting no time. “Is this a fucking joke?” Laurel more than understood his apprehension, but the words still stung.
“Yes I am,” Pierre said slowly, “and no, it’s not a joke. Laurel and I are legally married in the province of Québec.”
She could hear a labored breath from the other line, followed by an airy laugh. “What the hell, man?”
Nick was ultimately happy for them, and after being introduced to Laurel after they switched the call over to FaceTime he apologized for his reaction, but Laurel waved him off. “You’re just looking out for your boy is all. I’d do the same.”
Nick nodded. “Take care of him for us, Laurel. Your address still the same?” He looked over towards Pierre, who hummed his assent. “Janelle and I will send you something. Something useful.”
---
July 28 (wed)
“Something useful” turned out to be a gorgeous set of Wüsthof knives and a stand mixer, the latter of which Laurel was nearly jumping out of her socks with excitement to try. Baking had long since been one of her favorite hobbies and her go-to method of stress relief; while she was grateful for the arm muscles her years of having to hand mix everything had given her, she wasn’t going to miss the extra effort. So Laurel Klerken was taking full advantage of her new toy. She had gone down to the Jean-Talon market in the morning, which was quickly becoming one of her favorite weekly activities. Especially with Pierre around to help her, she was learning to shift her speaking into the Québecois dialect, and her French was good enough to order from the vendors in their language and be understood. In her book, that was a win. The peak of summer meant it was berry season in Montréal, which meant it was time for Laurel to break out her nana’s blueberry oatmeal muffin recipe. And chocolate chip walnut cookies. And a French apple tart. Okay, so maybe she went a little bit overboard, but they had their desserts for the week and it made the kitchen smell so good.
Pierre opened the door just as Laurel was pulling out the last pan of cookies, walking around the corner into the kitchen and raising his eyebrows at the view. She looked over at him. “You going to complain about your wife’s baking when you’re the primary beneficiary?” she asked, challenging him with a playful smile on his face.
Pierre held his hands up in surrender, holding the mail between two fingers. “No.” He picked one of the cookies off of the cooling rack, taking a bite. “Definitely not.”
Laurel nodded towards the mail, walking over to the sink to wash her hands. “What came in the mail?”
“Nothing much,” he said, shrugging. “Just a little letter from IRCC.”
Her eyes lit up. “Immigration finally got back? Did they send my card?”
Pierre nodded, handing her the envelope. It barely took five seconds for her to rip it open. “You, Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, are now officially a permanent resident of Canada. Congrats, babe.”
Laurel squeaked in excitement, dancing around in the kitchen , the holographic detailing on the card catching the glow of the late-afternoon light. She threw her arms around Pierre, giving him a kiss on the cheek that was just barely off to the side of his lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said breathlessly.
“Don’t mention it.”
She pulled back, still smiling. “No, ‘don’t mention it’ is for when you bring home dinner without being asked, or take a drunk friend home from the bar. Not for things like this,” she said, wiggling her card. “This is everything to me, P. I get to stay in the city that I love, I get to stay at the job that I love. I get to —” She looked down, eyes widening. “I can finally get a health card!”
Pierre let out a laugh. “Out of everything, you’re most excited about that?” Being a dual citizen who lived in the U.S. for the better part of the year, Pierre understood the absolute chasm of accessibility that separated the American and Canadian health insurance systems better than most, but he still looked at his wife’s choice with incredulity.
“Of course it is,” Laurel said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. She still had insurance purchased through her work, but the fact that now it was so much easier and official and came out of her taxes instead of having to try and navigate the bureaucratic system of forms and checks and private insurance companies made it so much easier. “It’s just nice to finally be a part of a system that acknowledges healthcare as the human right it is. That’s another thing about how it works in the U.S., it’s tied to employment a lot of the time so it’s not always a guarantee.”
She gave a tense smile, leaning back against the counter. “I might seem a little worked up about it, but that’s because I am. Uh,” she paused, eyes flickering up towards the chrome-plated track lighting, “my dad lost his job when I was a kid. He was a foreman at a construction company, but then the recession hit in ‘08 and he was laid off. We lost our insurance. Maggie and I were able to get on MinnesotaCare, which is the state insurance for low-income families, but our parents didn’t get approved. Not enough money to go around, I guess,” she scoffed. “Unemployment wasn’t paying enough and mom’s job isn’t full-time, so she doesn’t get benefits. Apparently they think healthcare is a benefit.” Laurel took another pause. “And then Dad had a stroke. It wasn’t serious, thank God, but the bills...Maggie was almost graduating high school and headed off to college, and money was tight even before the layoffs. We were able to come up with the money, but only because the community really came together, in a way I had never seen before. I still haven’t seen anything like it since. Bake sales, church fundraisers, garage sales.” The tiniest of smiles played on Laurel’s lips as she looked back up at her husband. “Do you know how much pasta Minnesotans can eat at a spaghetti dinner?”
“A lot?”
“A whole hell of a lot,” Laurel confirmed. “But anyways. That’s when it became personal to me, and I think it’s why healthcare and access to quality care is still something that I’m still so passionate about and invested in. It’s why I became a nurse.”
Pierre walked over to her carefully, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “It makes absolute sense, Laurel. I know that probably wasn’t easy for you, so thank you for sharing. It means a lot to me that you’re willing to let me in like that.” Laurel wasn’t a cold person by any means; she was one of the kindest and most giving people Pierre had ever met, even in the few months that they’d known each other. But she was someone that could be guarded at times — for very good reason — and it meant the world to him that she was willing to let him chip away her hardened exterior little by little to see the brilliance that lay within.
She pressed against his side, her head resting on his arm. “You’re my husband. Why wouldn’t I?”
---
Laurel was in the ensuite of her and Pierre’s room, washing her face before going to bed, when she heard her phone vibrate with a text. After that first night, Laurel had made it a habit of sharing a bed; she’d never slept better in her life than the past two and a half weeks, and even though she may have been loath to admit it, waking up to an incredibly attractive man — who was shirtless half of the time — wasn’t something she was about to complain about. “Can you get that for me?” She was expecting a text from her mom, something about confirming her and her dad’s flight times for their visit next week.
“Laurel?” Pierre called cautiously.
She turned towards him, patting her face dry. “What? Did their gate get changed or something?”
He shook his head, walking towards her and holding the phone out like it was a bomb. “It’s Maggie.”
Laurel’s mouth immediately went dry. “M-Maggie?” She took the phone, staring at the screen, open to the text.
“Do you want to talk to her? You don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it,” Pierre said, searching her face for any semblance of apprehension. As far as he knew, she hadn’t talked to her sister in years, and he didn’t know why that was suddenly about to change.
She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I just...I have no idea what she wants. Why, after three years, is she finally deciding that she wants to be a part of my life again?” She looked down at her phone.
So, I had to hear it through the Cloquet grapevine that you got married?? What’s that about, L? Maggie wrote. Laurel pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. The gossip train in her hometown was second to none; to be honest, she was a little bit surprised it even took her older sister this long to hear about it. She was already enough of an anomaly. Less than a quarter of her city had a college degree, even fewer left the state to do it, so her going to Toronto for university was practically unfathomable — even if it was closer than Texas, where her second-choice school was. So, needless to say, she was a frequent headline in the Cloquet rumor mill. She had heard it all. That she had run off to Canada to escape a high school sweetheart turned sour, that she had cut off all ties with her family, that she had shaved half of her head and dyed her eyebrows bright pink. The last one actually had some truth to it, but it was just the eyebrows and she was a drunk 20-year-old, and at least she didn’t get a tattoo of the Maple Leafs logo on her thigh like her friend Ethan.
But this one wasn’t a rumor, and if nothing else, Maggie deserved to know that much. Not much to say. It’s true, if that’s what you were wondering.
Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out third-hand?
Laurel rolled her eyes, sitting down with a huff on the edge of their bed. Not to be harsh, Maggie, but it’s not like you’ve wanted to be that invested in my life since you left home. How was I supposed to know if this was even your number any more? I don’t even know what country you’re in right now.
Her response was almost immediate. I’m working at a hostel in Tokyo. But seriously? I know we haven’t been super close the past few years, but I’m still your sister, and I would have thought you’d tell me about something like this. Getting married is big. You don’t think you’re still a little young? Have you even finished school yet?
I graduated last year, I’ve been working at a hospital in Montréal for over a year, Maggie. And I know it’s a little early, but Pierre-Luc and I are happy. I love him, and he’s a good man and respects the hell out of me. I don’t really need anything else.
It was a few minutes before her next text came through, this time in all caps. YOU MARRIED A FUCKING NHLER? Laurel grew up knowing hockey, obviously; you couldn’t really live in Minnesota and not, and she wasn’t even a half-bad skater herself, but Maggie had always been the more dedicated of the sisters. She’d been the one who was always begging their dad to make the two-hour drive to St. Paul for a Wild game. Even when money was tight, Doug always found a way to scrape up enough for the tickets as her birthday present in January.
Denise from church didn’t tell you?
All she said was that it was some hot French-Canadian guy, and mom said you moved to Quebec, so I thought it could be any number. Fair enough.
Denise seriously called him hot?
Laurel could imagine her sister rolling her eyes all the way in Japan. Okay, fine, she didn’t say hot. But like...am I wrong?
For the first time in a long time, her sister made her laugh. Yeah, okay. He’s hot. I’m very aware that my husband is a class-A babe.
“You think I’m hot?” Pierre said, peeking over her shoulder and wiggling his eyebrows.
Laurel’s cheeks heated. “Yes, okay. I think you’re very attractive. Happy?”
“Very,” he responded. “I’m glad my wife thinks I’m hot. The feeling’s mutual,” he said before walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth, leaving her even more flustered than before. She turned back to her conversation with Maggie. My shift is about to start, so I’ve got to go. But I’m happy for you, L. I really am. You’ve done exactly what you want with your life, and I couldn’t be more proud.
Laurel’s finger traced the words on the screen, a small smile on her face as Pierre came back into the room, throwing back the sheets. She plugged her phone into its charger, turning it face-down onto the nightstand. Things weren’t perfect between her and Maggie; far from it. One conversation over text wasn’t going to change that. But maybe, just maybe, there was still something there that was worth saving. After flicking off the lights, the last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of Pierre snaking his arm around her waist, pulling her to rest her back up against his chest. And Laurel let him.
August 17 (tues
It had been one of the worst days of Laurel’s life, and she wasn’t one for dramatics. Certainly the worst shift of her career. She knew when she chose to work in a pediatric intensive care unit, that it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows. If she wanted sunshine and rainbows, she would have gone with something less taxing. Something like dermatology, or working in a pediatrician’s office, or being a school nurse. God knows she could hand out ice packs and tampons. But no, she had to pick critical care, and critical care with children, one of the most emotionally and mentally taxing areas in the entire healthcare field. She saw the highest highs, the incredible moments when a three-year-old girl with a brain hemorrhage was able to get home, or a twelve-year-old boy finally got a kidney transplant after having been waiting for years. She saw the highest highs, but on days like today, she also saw the lowest lows.
Laurel carried her scrub top in one hand, her backpack slung over one shoulder, and tried desperately to regulate her breathing as she turned her key in the lock, pushing the door open. No matter how many times she had helped her patients breathe, she never seemed to be able to take her own advice.
Pierre stood in the kitchen, making a smoothie, but immediately turned off the blender when he saw her face. “What happened?” he asked, gently taking her bag from her and placing it on the floor.
Laurel collapsed into his arms almost instantly. “T-there was a little girl who c-came in yesterday from a car crash, and it was pretty b-bad, but she made it through the night and everyone thought she’d b-be fine,” she hiccuped, “but then right at the end of m-my shift she started coughing up b-blood and she was crashing, so I tried to do CPR until the t-team got there, but it didn’t work and we…” Laurel trailed off, sobbing, gripping the back of Pierre’s shirt like a lifeline. “We lost her, P. And the doctor on call was tied up with another patient, so I had to notify the family, and God, it was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do. She was only seven.” She looked down at her scrub top. “I have to go throw this in the washing machine before the stain sets.”
Pierre pulled back slightly, gently taking the navy shirt from her, giving a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll do it. You need to rest. Take a shower, or a bath, get into some comfortable clothes. I’ll take care of dinner.”
It was almost forty-five minutes later when Laurel finally emerged from the bathroom, clad in high school sweats and a faded Blue Jackets t-shirt. “I hope you didn’t mind that I took this one,” she said, picking at a loose thread on the bottom hem, “I hadn’t gotten to laundry yet this week.”
“It’s fine, Laur,” Pierre said, plating chicken stir-fry and rice. Cooking together had become one of their things; Pierre certainly wasn’t as hopeless as some people she had met, and he was right that he made an excellent salmon. But they couldn’t eat fish every day of the week, so Laurel broke out one of her few cookbooks and they had been making their way through the recipes together. They had finished breakfast and were making their way through poultry. Hence, chicken stir-fry. “You look better in it anyways.”
They ate in silence, her half-heartedly picking up forkfuls of rice only to put them down again. She smiled weakly at Pierre. “The food’s good, I swear. I just don’t have much of an appetite tonight.”
“I get that,” he said. “How about I put this in away in the fridge and you can get a yogurt or something? You don’t have to have a full meal, but you should eat something. We can watch something after, or you can go to bed if you’re not feeling up to it. Your call.”
“TV sounds nice, do you still have the old Parks & Rec recorded?” Laurel needed something she didn’t need to pay attention to, something that could just be background noise as she tried to sift through the emotions of her day and try to make sense of it all.
He nodded. “Wouldn’t get rid of it before asking, I know how much you love it.”
They were curled up on the couch together a few minutes later, a striped blanket thrown over Laurel’s lap despite the weather outside still lingering in the mid 70s. It wasn’t for warmth, not really; it was for comfort. Pierre’s arm was slung over her back, his thumb absentmindedly moving across her upper arm. She leaned into his touch, hardly paying attention to the show. “Do you want to talk about it?” Pierre murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You don’t have to, but it might help.” He wasn’t an expert by any means, but Pierre obviously knew that people died in hospitals, in intensive care units even more so. Which meant that there was an almost surefire chance that she had had people die on her watch, die on her shift. Had children die on her watch. And that didn’t mean she was a bad nurse or a bad person, but just that sometimes there were illnesses and injuries so severe that even the best medical care in the province couldn’t save them. So why was this one impacting her so intensely? Had she reacted this way before, with Madeline or her coworkers, and he just hadn’t seen it before? Or was there something different about this case, about that girl that made it hit closer to home for some reason?
Laurel took a shaky breath. “I know you’re right, that it’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up inside. But that’s what I’m used to, you know? I love my job, I do, but you have to compartmentalize sometimes. With this one, it’s just…” She searched for the right words. “It was so immediate, so in front of me, that I didn’t have any time to reach beyond trying to save her life. I didn’t think, I just went based on instinct and training. And she still died.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Laurel,” Pierre said firmly. “You did everything you could, you did everything right.”
“I know that,” she sniffed, “but it’s so hard to believe sometimes. That if I had gotten there a few seconds sooner, or if the crash team had been a little earlier, she might have survived. And I wouldn’t have had to tell a mother and father that their daughter was dead.” Pierre felt terrible, like there was nothing he could do, because there was nothing he could do, not apart from sit and listen. “I think it was different this time because I finally saw myself in their shoes, I obviously don’t have kids, not yet, but I imagined what it was like to have to be on the receiving end of that news, and it tore me apart, P.” Her voice cracked, and his heart broke. “Being the mom to a beautiful child and then all of the sudden having them all of the sudden stripped away? No longer living? I know that life’s not fair, but fuck, I thought I thought it would be a little better than this.”
Her voice went silent, and Pierre took the opportunity to speak. “It’s not fair, and I think part of what makes you so good at what you do is the fact that you recognize that. You’re so dedicated to giving everyone that comes through those doors the best care, because you genuinely believe that they deserve it. And that’s incredible. You don’t get complacent, you’re never satisfied with just doing things adequately and just enough to get by. You give everything 110%, and that’s how I know the kind of incredible person you are.” He paused. “And I think every parent worries about their kid getting sick, or getting hurt. I know mine did, and I’d be willing to bet yours were the same way. Worrying means you care. And you care the most deeply, the most genuinely, out of anyone I’ve ever met. And I know, when the time comes, that you’ll make an amazing mother. Whoever gets to do that with you will be a lucky man.”
“You really think so?”
Pierre slipped his hand into hers. “Positive.”
September 10 (fri)
Laurel’s fingers tapped nervously on the counter as she waited for Pierre to bring the last of his bags from the bedroom. He didn’t usually schlep a ton of things back-and-forth from Montréal to Columbus every time he needed to travel, but his ticket came with two free checked bags and if there was one thing Pierre-Luc Dubois was, it was efficient. It was the middle of September, and that meant training camps. That meant leaving Québec. That meant Ohio. That meant not seeing Pierre for weeks at a time, when the longest they had been apart since July was a two-day trip to Québec City Laurel took with her parents when they visited in August. Over the past two months, they had settled into a routine, and that routine was about to be broken. Grocery shopping, him washing the dishes while she dried, falling asleep together and waking up with legs tangled in the middle of the bed. She knew that he liked his coffee with a little bit of cream and more sugar, that Georgia got fussy if she wasn’t let out in the morning but Paul was more of a night owl, that dessert wasn’t supposed to be on his meal plan every day but that she could always get him to break for a slice of peach pie. He knew that she needed two Advil on the first day of her period because one just wouldn’t cut it, that her favorite Disney princess was Jasmine because of her independence, and that she liked to light lavender candles when she was stressed.
Pierre wheeled a bag out of the doorway. “That the last one?” Laurel asked, passing Phil’s leash to him as she held Georgia’s. He nodded. She spun her keys around on her finger. “Got both of your passports?”
Pierre patted his jacket pocket. “Right here.” It was easier for him; he could skip the wait in both countries. Exit Canada with the Canadian, enter the U.S. with the American.
It was 2 and his flight wasn’t until 4:15, but Laurel didn’t trust the traffic and she didn’t trust the wait times at the airport. “Guess we should get going then.”
“Guess we should.” Laurel grabbed one bag and he got the other, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and wheeling it out the door. It only took twenty minutes to get to the airport. Laurel pulled up next to the curb, double-checking the signs to make sure she wasn’t about to get fined for stopping, and put the car into park. Pierre was the first to open his door, grabbing both the dogs; Laurel followed suit a moment later.
“You’ve got to pop the trunk, babe,” Pierre murmured. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Oh, right,” she said, pressing the button on her key. It popped open with a telltale click; Pierre hefted out the black bag, she got the silver one. “Do you know how many people are going to have this exact bag? It’s going to be a nightmare at baggage claim, P” Laurel tried to joke. She always coped with humor.
Pierre laughed, this time a real one. “Fair enough. Guess I’ve got a lot riding on my luggage tags,” he said, flicking one of the offending objects around the handle of the bag, the black one. Laurel handed him the other handle, their fingers brushing as he gripped the metal. He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. He could see the apprehension in her eyes. There were a lot of things that Laurel Klerken did well, really well, but lying was never one of them. She was always an open book. “Hey, don’t look so down, Laur,” he said softly. “I know you’ll be missing your personal space heater and Piper will miss her siblings, but you’re coming to visit in two weeks and it’s going to be amazing. I’ll introduce you to the boys and the other wives, you’ll get to catch one of the preseason games, finally see my place in Columbus. It might be weird being alone for a while, but —” He cut himself off. “Scratch that, it will be weird for a while, for both of us, but we’ll get through it. You’re a great person, and not a terrible wife either. People have done long-distance relationships that were longer distances for more time, and they made it through just fine. You’ll be okay, Laur. We’ll be okay.”
Laurel took an unsteady breath, trying her best to put on a brave face. “Not a terrible wife, huh? Well, you’re not half a bad husband either.” As she spoke, she was thinking over his words. How normal they sounded, but how abnormal that was for them. They weren’t a normal couple, all they really were were friends who got married — right? So why was he saying those things, things that made him seem like a real husband talking to his real wife, things that were making her feel that maybe, just maybe, this marriage wasn’t as much of a hoax as the thought it was? And it was only because of that, only because she was either reading way too much into a situation that wasn’t even there or was the premier of reading people’s body language and being able to parse out their unsaid words, that she did what she did next. She threw her arms around her husband, and she kissed him.
#hockey imagine#hockey writing#pierre-luc dubois#hockey#hockey smut#hockey imagines#nhl imagine#nhl writing#nhl smut#nhl#nhl imagines#pierre luc dubois
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And the last one from me, I promise: I'm really craving some WinterIron 'identity porn' where Iron Man is a villain (not really, but the media and SHIELD say so) and Bucky feels really bad for liking this guy who's his enemy. Plus this Tony Stark fella is kind of cute too... Thank you for your writing! ♡
Thank you! I hope you like this as it also fills one of my squares for @starkbucksbingo
Title: Secret Side in Plain Sight
Collaborator Name: iam93percentstardust
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806083/
Square Filled: B1 - First Date
Ship/Main Pairing: Winteriron
Rating: T
Major Tags & Triggers: Identity Porn, Villain Iron Man, First Dates
Word Count: 1811
Summary: In an attempt to get over his crush on Iron Man, the Avengers' nemesis, Bucky asks out the cute baker who lives down the street. For his part, Tony would be delighted that Bucky's finally asked him out - if only someone hadn't stolen his suit.
Just because Bucky knew that asking Iron Man out was a bad idea didn’t mean that he was willing to admit it.
Look, Sam had good points sometimes but Bucky categorically refused to admit it. They had had this animosity since they met two years ago and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. So yeah, Bucky knew that he couldn’t just ask Iron Man out but because it was Sam who pointed it out as a bad idea, he couldn’t just admit it.
Besides, it wasn’t like Iron Man was really a villain, no matter what SHIELD and the media tried to paint him as. No one who was actually a villain stopped their “evil and nefarious plans,” as Iron Man put it, to save a little girl from a burning building. And yeah, okay, maybe it was Iron Man’s fault that the building was on fire in the first place but Bucky had been there when the building had caught flames. He’d heard the shock in Iron Man’s voice as he realized the fire department hadn’t been able to put out the fire in the warehouse next door and it had spread to the surrounding buildings, the horror when Sam had said he wouldn’t be able to get to the girl in time.
No villain—a true villain anyway—reacted like that. They would have left the girl to die.
But Bucky still knew it was a bad idea to ask him out, even if he was flirty and didn’t mind his metal arm. He could picture that cocky smile in his mind’s eye, imagine those pretty, dark curls, those whiskey brown eyes…Okay, so maybe he was imagining his other crush as the mysterious Iron Man but really who could blame him? They were both wicked smart and snarky and maybe just the tiniest bit arrogant but both Tony and Iron Man had good reason to be arrogant. Tony was the best baker on the East Coast and Iron Man had yet to be stopped by anyone. He didn’t think they could be blamed for being cocky about it.
Point was, he knew that he couldn’t just ask out Iron Man but he could do something about his crush on Tony (and no, he was not pining, no matter what Sam and Steve said). So he was there, standing in front of Sweet Treats at the end of the day, waiting for the evening rush to clear out so he could go inside and ask Tony out and hopefully not make a fool of himself in the process—though if he did, well, that was why he waited until just before closing.
“Bucky Bear!” Tony said delightedly as soon as he entered. “Come here, I’ve got this great new flavor of cupcake that I want you to try. The bakery-that-shall-not-be-named down the street tried something similar a few weeks ago and everyone’s been going to them for cupcakes now which is obviously ridiculous but it means I have to step up my game which, not like it’s hard—hello, have you met me? Anyway, it’s—”
“Baby doll, you’re babbling,” Bucky said with an amused smile. Christ, he liked this man.
“Oh yeah. Anyway, here.” Tony shoved half a cupcake into Bucky’s mouth before he could say anything else or even take it from him. Bucky almost choked on it before he remembered how to chew and swallow.
“Amazing, Tony, as always,” he said truthfully, licking the last little bit of crumbs from his lips. “Kind of spicy. What’s in them?”
Tony seemed frozen, staring at his mouth with a dazed expression on his face. “What?”
Bucky chuckled. That’s promising, at least. “The cupcakes. What’s in them?”
“Oh! Mangoes and jalapeños. I’m thinking about trying out a lime buttercream frosting on them, something like a margarita, you know?”
“And what’s Cake—”
“Ahem!” Tony said loudly, glaring at him.
“Sorry. What’s the bakery-that-shall-not-be-named doing?”
“Just jalapeño. They’ve got some sort of cinnamon frosting and spicy candy on top but I think mine is better.”
“It is,” Bucky assured him.
“You haven’t even tried theirs!” But Tony looked positively ecstatic to hear about Bucky’s loyalty so he knew he was doing something right at least.
“Don’t have to. Yours is always better.” He cleared his throat, scuffing his foot on the clean floor. “So, listen, I was thinking—”
“Could you flip the sign on the door for me?”
“What? Oh, sure.” He headed over to the door, flipped the open sign to closed. He probably could have asked then but he thought that asking Tony out should be a face-to-face conversation. “Tony, we’ve been—”
A timer went off in the small kitchen in the back. “Oh fuck,” Tony whispered. “The macarons.” He darted for the back, Bucky trailing after him, probably looking like a lost duckling. He was allowed in the back. Tony had given him permission after the sixth time he’d shown up at closing time, just to talk to the cute baker, and hadn’t wanted to end the conversation so Tony could rescue a batch of cupcakes from the oven. For as talented as Tony was, he had to throw out half the things he baked because he got distracted easily and forgot to take care of them before they were ruined.
Fortunately, the macarons were not one of the ruined batches—this time—and as Tony was setting them into individual containers to sit overnight, Bucky started to ask again, “Hey, I was wondering if you wanted—”
“Can you hand me that—"
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Bucky hissed. “Will you go out with me or not?”
Tony blinked up at him. “Try that again?”
“You, me, dinner? Maybe not tonight but tomorrow?”
Tony blinked again, slow enough that Bucky wondered if he was maybe about to get turned down, but then a delighted smile spread across Tony’s face. “I’d love to,” he breathed.
“Yeah?” Bucky asked, double checking. He almost wanted to tell Tony that he’d already said yes, there were no take backs, but they were decidedly not children, no matter how they acted sometimes.
He nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Tomorrow, you said? Do you have a place in mind? Cause if you don’t, I know this great little Italian restaurant. It’s near my place and if you want, afterwards—”
“Whoa, doll,” Bucky said, laughing as he laid a finger on Tony’s lips. “Wanna take my time with you. Wanna do this right.”
The look in Tony’s eyes could best be described as pouting but he kissed the tip of Bucky’s finger, giggling when Bucky groaned. “I can do slow,” he promised. “So. What did you have in mind?”
“You like burgers?”
~
He had no idea how he managed to pick out Tony’s favorite food. They had talked before, about Tony’s Italian mother and how that instilled a love of pasta in him, about Bucky growing up in the Depression and how he thought he hated chicken but really he just hated under-seasoned, overcooked meat. He counted himself lucky that Fury hadn’t seen a point in hiding the fact that Bucky Barnes was back after spending most of the last century as the world’s greatest assassin because it meant that he could share things like his past with Tony without being worried that he would inadvertently reveal something he wasn’t supposed to. And, in return, Tony told him about growing up wealthy, as one of the Starks, and about how he’d walked away from his parents’ company after they died, leaving it to become Stane Industries.
“You must really hate Iron Man, then,” Bucky had commented idly, not really fishing for information on his other crush but still curious. Iron Man almost exclusively went after Stane technology and warehouses.
To his surprise, Tony had given him a guarded look. “Why would you say that?” he’d asked warily.
“Cause that was your parents’ company he’s attacking even if it’s not anymore.”
“Maybe I think it’s good. Maybe I think I left SI because I didn’t want to make weapons anymore but I couldn’t talk the board into changing the direction of the company,” Tony had muttered, apparently forgetting that Bucky could hear everything he was saying. Well, it wasn’t like Tony could be Iron Man so it didn’t matter whether or not he liked what Stane was doing to the company. Whatever Tony’s thoughts were on Iron Man, it wasn’t important and had no effect on their date and Bucky really needed to stop thinking about Iron Man anyway. He had a date with someone cute and Iron Man was unattainable and just barely on the right side of being a villain anyway.
~
It was a little hard not thinking about Iron Man when he seemed determined to make sure that he was on Bucky’s mind at all times.
He and Tony had barely sat down at their table when his Avengers Card beeped, telling him about an upcoming mission. He groaned and fished out the card, scanning the details of the mission. Iron Man, of course. The villain had been particularly active over the last couple weeks but this one was new; Iron Man wasn’t attacking one of SI’s warehouses this time. He was attacking a children’s hospital.
“What the fuck?” Bucky muttered.
“Your other job?” Tony asked, smirking.
Bucky glared at him but there was no heat behind it. “It’s not like I’m a secret agent, baby doll. Ain’t no need to call it my other job. I’m the Winter Soldier and I’m an Avenger and we both know it.”
“But it’s just so fun,” he teased. “But, really, did something come up?”
“Yeah,” Bucky muttered. “Fucking Iron Man, ruining the first date I’ve had since the 40s.”
Tony frowned. “I’m sorry, did you say Iron Man?”
“Yeah. Look, I’m sorry, doll. Gotta go take care of this. Can we try again tomorrow? I was really looking forward to our date.” He leaned forward before he could think better of it and brushed his lips over Tony’s cheek.
Tony had a distracted look in his eyes but he blushed anyway. “Tomorrow sounds great. Good luck out there.”
Bucky was halfway to the door when Tony called after him, “And Bucky Bear? Be careful!”
Bucky grinned and saluted him. Tony cared about him. Tony didn’t want him to be hurt. He hardly even cared that Iron Man was acting outside of his usual modus operandi because Tony cared about him. They were gonna have another date tomorrow and everything was gonna be fine.
~
Tony waited until Bucky was gone before fishing his phone out of his pocket. He dialed Rhodey, impatiently drumming his fingers on the arc reactor under his shirt as he waited for him to pick up.
“Tones?” Rhodey said sleepily. “This better be important, do you have any—”
“Rhodey, who the fuck stole my suit?”
#winteriron#starkbucksbingo2020#alle writes#alle answers#villain au#justsomeoneunordinary#if you like please consider reblogging
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The Greater Good
Carrying the shield isn’t an easy job; it often requires a great deal of sacrifice, and that can be difficult for Bucky to come to terms with.
Based on the “Where’s my supersuit?” scene from The Incredibles.
This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2020. Word count: 2044. Square filled: “Free Space”
Pairing: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes
Warnings: Mentions of injury, wounds, blood. Mentions of drinking alcohol. Mild angst, slight separation anxiety.
A/N: Idk what to say, y’all. I wish I had the decency to apologize for writing a fic I’ll probably regret posting instead of working on my WIPs, one of which is on hiatus bc I’m a lazy jerk, but such is life. Blame The Incredibles (which I’ve never seen -- I’m not sorry) and @samingtonwilson 's anon. Also, while you're there, go check out Taal's masterlist because she's an incredibly (pun intended) talented, amazing, fantastic writer and every. single. one. of her stories is a must-read.
Honeysuckle and mango, the scented candles on each bedside table flicker in the light breeze drifting through the open window, a sea of dark ink dotted with stars visible beyond. Late summer is cooling into autumn, and the leaves of the tree that shades their bedroom on hot days is slowly turning into an early shade of yellow-orange, that glints in the glow of streetlights to remind Bucky of the specks of gold that set Sam’s eyes alight like a September sunset. It’s been two weeks since Bucky’s seen those eyes, two weeks he's been awake before dawn with more worry than he knows how to run off.
He’s due back today, his husband, after a fortnight of radio silence thanks to a stake-out in the Canadian wilderness, in wait for a lucrative arms deal to occur, and for the team of Avengers to prevent. The mission had been called a day after Bucky broke -- no, shattered -- his arm during a drug bust in California, thereby disqualifying him from participation, and sentencing him to this torturous wait. A wait that has now, finally, come to an end. Almost.
Bucky lets out a quiet sigh on his way back to the kitchen. Placing a second plate of homemade ravioli and the necessary utensils on a tray table, he returns to the bedroom, putting his food next to where Sam’s waits patiently. Wrings both hands, one made of metal, and the other with a cast on it. Any minute now, he thinks, pulling out the first aid kit from under the bed and putting it on the dresser, ready to use under the bright glow of the lamp next to it. The room is filled with soft light, the smell of pasta, and the ache of Bucky’s heart as he tries to quell the unreasonable nerves that tug at his diaphragm.
Nearly a year of falling asleep with the feel of Sam’s wedding band under the stroking of his thumb, nearly two of being intimately familiar with the texture of his lips, and nearly three of being perfect partners in combat and good friends out of it, yet Sam still makes him nervous. A good nervous, the flutter of nerves in his belly, Bucky determines as he paces the hallway, stopping in front of the mirror to push his hair back. Maybe he’ll ask Sam to cut it tomorrow, once he’s recovered. From his wounds and Bucky’s... affections.
The thought has only just crossed Bucky’s mind when the tap of boots alerts him to someone’s presence at the door. Keys jingle, but he’s too quick, already unlocking the door and throwing it open as Sam lifts his hand to the lock, where it, and the rest of him, freezes at the sight of Bucky, cheeks dusted with a rosy pink already.
Words stay unspoken, and the sentiment of longing, of unimaginable relief is transferred directly from Bucky’s mouth to Sam’s. His metal arm rises to grip Sam’s suit-clad waist, and Sam’s gloved hands cradle Bucky’s head gently, so at odds with the pressure with which he seeks to draw forth pleasure. Soon, the kiss turns to open mouths, just resting over each other, elevated breaths colliding in the margin of air between them. Bucky breaks away with a sigh, arms around Sam, and forehead against his, eyes closed.
“I missed you, too, Bucky.” Sam smiles, split lip rasping over over Bucky’s, and he pulls back to look at him. Keeps ahold of his hand as he leads him to their room -- taking note of his limp -- and silently begins to peel the suit off his husband’s tired, burdened shoulders. Sam’s sees the trays on the bed and raises an eyebrow at him in question, but Bucky’s spotted the gauze covering the lower left side of his ribs.
“You were shot,” Bucky says lowly, kneeling, and bringing the first aid kit with him to the floor, unfortunately too used to this sort of thing to really be fazed by it. Besides, he doesn’t want to waste any time chewing Sam out for getting hurt, not when he can be sitting next to him with good food and even better laughter, something sorely needed after ages of quiet. He’ll allow the delay in those plans for their evening just enough to redress the wound that has started to bleed through the bandages.
Sam shrugs with the confident nonchalance of someone who knows he isn’t getting told off. “It happens,” he says with a grin. “What’s with dinner in bed?”
“Thought you’d be more comfortable,” Bucky answers. “And we can get down to business quicker,” he quips, ignoring the scoff elicited, as they’re both well aware that Sam’s in no condition for such at the moment.
While Bucky starts cleaning the blood that has seeped out through his staples, Sam takes off the light chain that carries his wedding band, and puts the ring back in its rightful place, on his fourth finger. By the time he’s reached for a shirt in the dresser next to him, Bucky’s done, and he stands so Sam can lean on him while he puts on his favorite pair of sweatpants.
“Hurry up, old man, the food’s goin’ cold and I worked real hard on it,” Bucky says, getting Sam settled in so he’s leaning on the pillows against the headboard, and pours him wine.
Sam’s eyes widen, shocked. “Old? You’re one to talk.”
“At least I can walk straight,” Bucky retorts, and Sam gestures towards his stomach.
“I was shot.”
“And whose fault is that?” Bucky jokes, and Sam’s mouth snaps shut, his shoulders shudder to contain the building amusement, until they both burst into laughter. Bucky watches Sam’s eyes scrunch tightly shut as he laughs, and he lets the sound spill into his soul like an essence of life. It’s been a while since he heard it, and it sounds just as sweet, as effulgent, as he recalls.
Recovering from the outburst, Sam breathes slowly, trying not to laugh again. “Okay, alright, I’m sorry. You’re not old, you’re just--” he bites his lip, and Bucky tries not to wince in anticipation of the wound on his lip reopening. “-- mature.” He smirks at him, and Bucky rolls his eyes, putting another piece of ravioli in his mouth. The room goes quiet, and they relish the food and each other’s company. Bucky drinks in the content, relaxed features of Sam’s face. He’s radiating goodness, and that energy that can only be described as unapologetically Sam.
The golden, shining bubble of a moment is burst by Sam’s phone ringing outside, from the chest of drawers in the entrance, and Sam gives him a look, before going to retrieve it. Bucky recognizes the Captain-voice Sam’s using on the phone, making the gears start to turn in his head, a process that results in him going to pick up the shield lying next to the bed, and hiding it behind their tuxedos, the ones they wore to their wedding, in the closet. Luckily for him, Sam’s call ends just as he’s gotten back to bed, half-eaten plate of pasta in front of him like he never moved.
Bucky’s gut instinct was right. Nobody could have any reason for calling Sam at this hour with the exception of Nick Fury. “Robbery on 9th ave. They’re using Chitauri energy cores,” he says, pulling off the loungewear and putting the suit back on. Zip, boots, gloves, and then--
“Where’s my shield?” He asks, turning to look around the room. “I put it right here.” Sam looks at Bucky and he averts his gaze.
“I don’t know,” he says, entirely unconvincingly, and Sam clenches his jaw in understanding, putting his hands on his hips in wait.
“Bucky.”
Bucky traces the gold veins running along his metal arm. “What?”
“I need my shield,” Sam says softly, stepping forward.
“Why?” It’s Bucky’s turn to put his hands on his hips, and Sam throws his in the air in frustration. Bucky tries to avoid thinking about the veins that protrude along his neck at the movement. This is not the time, Barnes, focus.
“Why? What do you mean, why?”
“Ask them to send someone else! I've been waiting to see you for two weeks. You can't just leave again.” But Sam’s already on his way to the closet, rummaging, searching first through an unhealthy amount of running shoes -- Bucky’s new vice -- and then his outrageous collection of compression t-shirts.
“The public is in danger, Bucky,” he says, voice muffled from the closet.
"My evening is in danger," he replies, crosses his arms and leans in the doorway.
“Come on, man. I have to go. For the greater good and all.” He looks up from the underwear drawer to send a pleading expression Bucky’s way, and Bucky fixes his glare on a spot on the wall above Sam’s head. Aims his next words at that spot, too.
"”I'm your husband. I'm the greatest good you're ever going to get,” Bucky responds sharply, but Sam continues searching, and soon, Bucky drops the act. “You're injured, Sammy. You're not well enough to go,” he says, pushing off where he’s leaning and stepping forward. Somehow, he lets his arms uncross and clench slowly at his sides, fists that he works to reopen, feeling the stretch of tendons accompany the strain in his voice. Sam helps, taking a hand in each of his, thumb sliding over the base of each of his fingers. The knuckles of his broken arm are covered in plaster, and the metal one whirrs, almost purring.
“Bucky, look,” Sam says, voice so quiet it’s like he’s relaying a secret in a crowded room, rather than an explanation in an empty one. “I know it's hard, and I'm sorry, but you know that this is what the job takes.” Bucky watches Sam press his mouth thinly together, tries to ignore the logic he knows is present in his partner’s words, but Bucky was never one for ignorant bliss. He’s making an ineffectual effort to suppress the natural conscious that’s telling him to send Sam off, and it isn’t sustainable. “I'll be back before you know it.” Sam’s smooth, low timbre pierces the conflict Bucky is striving to resolve, and the turmoil, the unreasonable bid to restrain Sam from leaving settles like dust after a sandstorm.
Sam’s hands tighten around Bucky’s and he can feel the pulse in them, in the safe, warm skin the touch of which is his home, the surface that brings him back to Earth no matter where his head is going. However, now, Bucky lets go, and retrieves Sam shield. Gives it to him without another word, and accepts the grateful nod of thanks.
He’s almost to the door, Bucky trailing a few steps behind -- resolutely brushing aside the analogy of lost puppies -- when he stops and turns. Gives Bucky a look that would be abstruse if not for years of conversation, of moments that enable Bucky to tell that Sam’s frown, the shine of his eyes, that anxious hand running along the edge of his shield, means only that he’s reluctant. Bucky’s hunch is proven right when Sam comes forward to stand toe-to-toe with him, eyes locked on his.
“Thank you. I’ll be home soon,” he says, leaning to place a kiss on his forehead. Just a touch, a whisper of reassuring force, before he’s moving away again, eye contact only broken when he leaves the threshold of their house, stepping outside.
Bucky holds the back door and watches him deploy his wings. Sam traces a flight path on his arm panel as Bucky looks on, watching the lights shine on his skin like shimmering topaz, beautiful, glowing, alive, and prays that he’ll return to him that way. Again.
Once he’s done reading mission details and ready to go, Sam looks up again, eyes dancing with mirth and adoration, the former of which he voices in a joke that is meant to disguise his concern for Bucky, even though he’s the one leaving for battle. “Don’t wait up for me. You need your rest, grandpa,” Sam calls, laughter trembling in his throat, taking off in a flash of red, white, and blue.
#ayesha writes#SSB2020#sam wilson x bucky barnes#bucky barnes x sam wilson#sambucky#captain america#the falcon#sam wilson#bucky barnes#sam wilson fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfiction#marvel#avengers#fluff#angst
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Chapter Eleven
*Fake It Until You Make It Real*
**I've been asked and here it is! This story has a playlist on Spotify under the same title as the story made by Kelly with the same profile picture! If you have any trouble let me know. There will also be one for my other story Falling In Love Through The Phone**
*playlist link (I think)*
Louis walked into the kitchen confused as he looked around the house. Harry was only in the Halloween sleep pants he had slipped on after they decided to get out of bed.
"Where is everyone?" Louis asked walking up behind Harry and wrapping his arms around his waist.
"Oh, Liam and Niall offered to take the dogs on a walk and Freddie asked if he could go too. I told them I didn't know how you'd feel considering you just met them, and Zayn and Amy offered to go along so I agreed. And before you worry, they completely understood and were not offended at all. They left about ten minutes ago. Freddie has taken to Niall though; Niall was showing him my guitars and how to play them. Niall has already promised a kid guitar as a Christmas gift for both the kids."
"Anyway, we can convince him to take it back and claim he couldn't find any?" Louis asked.
"Afraid not. Freddie was too excitedly about it and I don't break little hearts."
"Only little ones?" Louis teased.
"Well, you are little- Ow! Not the nipples." Harry said turning to face Louis and wrap his own arms around him, "come on I have a surprise for you."
"Oh, you do. What is it?" Harry didn't answer just kept his arms around him as he led them towards the second living room making Louis walk backwards. Louis tried to look but Harry turned him around and covered his eyes, "what? Harold!"
"Relax you'll be fine." Suddenly he was stopped and shifted around then the hands were removed. When he looked, he noticed they were in the small sunroof with breakfast laid out on a blanket and candles that filled the room with a beachy scent and a record player playing at a low volume.
"What is this?" Louis asked.
"It's breakfast silly. Don't mind the half-eaten waffle Freddie demanded it." Louis laughed as he watched Harry grabbed the plain half eaten waggle off a plate and toss it into the main hall as if it never was there, "I really hope that wasn't in the photos I took."
"It adds character." Louis said grinning as he kissed Harry's cheek, "thank you this is great if with the decor Freddie added makes more special."
"Look I'm trying to impress you I don't need Freddie to show me up with his talents." Louis shook his head as he led Harry into the room by his hand making him sit down first then he slotted himself between his legs leaning back against his chest, "look I even dug out my fancy tea set." Harry said excitedly as he showed off his baby blue floral teacups and saucers.
"Very fancy. I practically feel like royalty." Louis said grinning widely, "since I'm royalty i absolutely cannot pour my own tea you'll have to simply do it for me."
"Ah yes how dare I make you lift a single finger." Harry said kissing his hand that he was holding while the other hand poured the tea carefully. Louis absolutely refused to admit he giggled when Harry maybe a clinking sound on accident, "Shhh it didn't happen."
"Oh yes my mistake." Louis said grabbing a chocolate drizzled fruit kabob, "I heard not a thing."
"Exactly." Harry said pressing a kiss against his cheek as he grabbed his own kabob, "who says romance is dead with kids."
"The half-eaten waffle decor definitely says something." Breakfast was finished between laughter and sips of tea, but that apparently wasn't all Harry had planned. He was up and changing the record to something else. When the vinyl was in and the needle was moved Harry pulled Louis up to his feet.
"Dance with me."
"Dance with you to what?" Louis asked skeptically even if he did wrap an arm around Harry and slide his hand in his free one. Before Harry had a chance to respond Shania Twin filled the room and Louis grinned, "I knew I was marrying a man with good taste. Though I must say I'm shocked it's not Abba."
"Oh, don't worry they're in the list of potential wedding songs. After all we do have quite the story to tell with our first dance. Who knows maybe Abba tells it better than Shania. Hard to believe I know, but it's possible." Louis didn't even deem that worthy of a response especially when the introduction ended, and the first words started to play.
Looks like we made it
Look how far we've come, my baby
We mighta took the long way
We knew we'd get there someday
They said, "I bet they'll never make it"
But just look at us holding on
We're still together, still going strong
You're still the one I run to
The one that I belong to
You're still the one I want for life
You're still the one that I love
The only one I dream of
You're still the one I kiss goodnight
Louis grinned as he and Harry sang along with the lyrics, Harry's voice mending with his perfectly as they did a simple step and sway slow dance. His hand slid in Harry's hair pulling him down for a soft slow kiss and neither of them noticed when the others came back and stood in the doorway. Louis pulled away and gently guided Harry into a spin making them both laugh before their lips met again then it was Louis' turn to spin. As the last words were sung, they're lips touched again with emotion that seemed too strong with how little they knew each other, but Louis pushed it aside jumping when their friends 'awww'd loudly causing both of them to turn and see them standing there. Liam had Freddie on his shoulders and Niall had his phone out recording them.
"You two are so cute. I'm sending this to your mother Harry." Niall said as he walked away typing something on his phone, "don't worry I'm sending it to you two as well."
"We should get dressed. Busy day today, you go ahead, and I'll clean up."
"You sure?" Louis asked.
"Yes, now leave." Harry said gently pushing Louis towards the door.
"Alright come on Freddie let's get you ready as well mister Jammies." Louis said taking Freddie groaning slightly, "You're getting big kid."
"Liam says I'm light."
"Yeah, for him he has biceps the size of China. We don't listen to him." Louis grumbled hearing the lads laugh as he walked away.
****
Shopping was Harry was different than he expected or imagined. Since Harry didn't worry about money Louis had assumed Harry just tossed things in without much thought process and just swiped his card without worry. Turns out he was very wrong. Everything Harry bought he had a purpose for which really shouldn't have surprised Louis now that he thought about it. Though Harry also pretended not to notice when Freddie snuck snacks into the cart and buried them under things and Louis didn't say anything wishing for Harry to stop him when it was enough. Freddie was currently on his tenth box and Harry was reading the back of a noodle box as if it weren’t just a box of noodles that he had in his cupboards at the house. When Freddie had successfully hidden it only then did Harry coincidentally finish as well and put it in the cart pretending to not notice the junk food in his cart.
"What?" Harry asked innocently when Louis continued to stare at him, "I was reading the ingredients making sure they hadn't changed it."
"Uh huh. I'm not saying anything. It’s all on you this time." Harry looked betrayed but then he sniffed and turned away from Louis.
"Fine. I can totally say no when I need to." Harry said grabbing a few different boxes of pasta before he pushed the cart down a different aisle.
"Papa." Freddie whispered tugging on Louis' hand.
"Yes?"
"Harry needs cookies."
"Oh, he does?" Louis asked looking at Harry who was humming as he quickly grabbed two of the same jams and read the backs of them as if they were different.
"Yeah, but we have to be sneaky about it. I am a break hider with Harry because he reads a lot unlike you so we can sneak in a lot I bet."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, and I reckon if we guess his favorite, he won't say no no matter how many we bring back, so I think we being back one of each."
"Wow you thought this one through. One of each you said." Louis said looking at Harry who started pushing the cart forward, "hey Haz."
"Yes, my darling?" Harry asked innocently as he looked back at them.
"Freddie and I are going to go look around you uh...have anything to say to us?"
"Have fun. Make smart choices." Harry said before he hurried down the aisle, Louis shook his head as he grabbed Freddie's hand and followed him down to the correct isle.
Harry didn't question it when Freddie practically begged that he and Louis unload the cart while Harry stood with his back to the belt. Louis shook his head glad he had sneakily snuck out the snacks he knew Freddie wouldn't miss or have eaten while Freddie and Harry had been picking fruits and vegetables. Harry didn't even question why there was ten boxes of random snacks in the produce section as he kept Freddie distracted by letting him push the cart.
"You're welcome." Louis had whispered.
"No idea what you are talking about."
"Uh huh." Harry grinned turning to peck him on his lips but never admitted to anything.
"Papa I think some things fell out but that’s okay. I think he would have noticed if we had too much." Freddie whispered.
"I think you're right. It must have fallen out when we helped rearrange the cart." Louis whispered back.
"Yeah, I think so too."
The cashier was grinned as she swiped the junk food boxes after having swiped the things Harry and Louis had picked out for dinners and lunches. The last fifteen items were obviously picked by a child and was obviously a 'secret'. She even played along by double bagging the items and sneakily handing them over the belt with a wink. Louis then pushed the cart ahead and started putting the bags in the cart while Harry paid for the groceries grinning. When everything was packed Louis moved ahead out of the way and helped Freddie put on his jacket. When Harry came over shoving his wallet and receipt into his pocket Freddie was ready to go out to the chilly October weather. When they got to the Murano Louis got Freddie into the booster first then went around and helped Harry finished packing everything. When they were back in the Murano Louis made sure Freddie was strapped in correctly before he buckled himself.
The drive to the apartment building was short and when Harry parked, he kept the Murano running and leaned over to kiss Louis on the lips.
"I'll be back."
"Okay we'll be here." Harry got out and hurried inside the building to escape the chilly breeze that accompanied the end of October. He hurried inside the elevator and pressed the fifth-floor button and then to room 409, He pulled out his phone and went to the camera app pressing the record button then he put the phone in his shirt pocket, so the camera was visible. His lawyer told him never to talk to her about Maddie without recording the conversation whenever possible and make sure to get her face so they could prove it was her. When it was situated, he knocked on the red door and waited only a few seconds before it was opened revealing Hannah dressed in a very revealing dress that Harry quickly averted his eyes upon seeing.
"Where's Maddie?" Harry asked stepping inside the apartment when she widen the door for him to enter.
"She's in her room." Harry tensed when Hannah's hand touched his shoulder. He quickly moved away from it and looked at her, "oh come on Harry...Danny isn't here, and Maddie doesn't have to know."
"I'm not interested. I'm also not available as you know. I'm engaged. I'm just here for my daughter. Maddie!"
"Daddy!" Harry grinned turning when a door opened and Maddie came out with a small suitcase making him frown slightly, "I'm ready."
"That's great princess what all did you pack? You look like you're ready to run away." Harry teased assuming she had packed toys or something.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you you're getting her for a week because Dan and I are leaving to look at a few homes in America where his transfer will be."
"A week? That would have been nice to know before today."
"It's a week or nothing. We leave tonight and we don't have a ticket for her, so we'd drop her off as Dan's parents’ place tonight otherwise.”
“Well, no I want her. Of course, I want her I just wish you would have told me. But thank you anyway for letting me keep her for the week.”
“You could thank me in another way.” She suggested.
“Not interested. Ready to go Mads?”
“She already ate so there’s no need to feed her dinner tonight.” Hannah said stepping closer, Harry immediately stepped back and opened the door.
“Goodbye Hannah.”
“Bye Harry.” She said slowly smiling as she wiggled her fingers. Harry ignored her and hurried out of the apartment with Maddie’s hand in his and her suitcase in the other hand.
“Daddy why does mom want me to you about you two getting back together upfront of Louis?” Harry pulled his eyebrows together and looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Mom said I had to ask you about you and her getting back together as soon as we got in the car if Louis was in the passenger seat. I asked her why and she told me it doesn’t matter to just do it.”
“Oh well I’m not sure, but I would prefer it if you didn’t. It can cause some tension that I really would rather not have inside the car. Your mother and I are not getting back together and there is no reason to ask that, okay? I’m marrying Louis and we are planning to stay together for a very very very long time.”
“like a Happily Ever After long time?”
“Yes, just like that. You’re going to be at the wedding and Freddie will be there. He’s going to be the ring bearer and you’re the flower girl. You’ll have a sort of baby aunt to help walk down as well. She’s only a baby you like that idea?”
“Yes, I can help her walk and help her throw petals on the ground, right?”
“Right. But don’t tell Louis I’ve already got it all planned out he has to feel included too.” Harry said jokingly making her giggle as he tickled her, “Promise?”
“I promise it’s our little secret daddy.” Harry grinned before he noticed something.
“Where’s your coat?”
“I don’t have one…well I have one, but it stops here.” She said pointing to her mid forearm, “and it’s tight and I don’t like it.”
“I gave your mother fifty pounds last week to get you a new one.”
“She spent it on the jacket, but it doesn’t fit, and I told her it didn’t fit but it was the only one the thrift store had.”
“The thrift store I gave her fifty pounds for a winter coat. She didn’t have to- it’s fine we’ll get you two one for me and one you’ll keep at your mothers, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you, daddy.”
“You don’t need to thank me for getting you essential items like coats, but you’re welcome.” Harry pulled his phone out and ended the video making sure it had recorded the entire time before shoving it in his pocket. Once they got to the front doors, he made sure to have a good grip on her suitcase and her body as he lifted her up before he ran out into the cold making her squeal with laughter, “RUN RUN RUN RUN.” Harry said laughing as he got to the Murano and pulled it open as she giggled, “There we go all toasty. Get in your booster and buckle up.” Harry told her closing the door then hurrying to the driver seat.
“I told you to put a coat on.” Louis told him as he rubbed his arm.
“Tell me you were right later.” Harry grumbled as he pulled his phone out and set it in the little cubicle, “We have to go to a department store for Maddie to get her a coat. Does Freddie need one for winter?”
“No, I go shopping for the after-winter sales and get him a size up for the next winter. He has a coat and gloves and a hate. He’s all set for winter.”
“Smart man. I knew I was marrying you for a reason.” Louis rolled his eyes with a grin, but he leaned into the kiss Harry pressed against his cheek, “we need to talk when we get home for a few minutes about Hannah.” Harry whispered against his ear before pressing another kiss there to disguise it. Louis nodded letting him know he heard him, so Harry pulled back but kept one of his hands intertwined with Louis’ as he pulled out of the parking space.
********
Two hours later Harry and Louis were finally finished putting everything away and the kids were successfully distracted with each other and the toys, so Harry pulled Louis into his home office and pulled out his phone.
“My lawyer has always told me to record every conversation I have with Hannah as much as possible so that’s what I did. Anyway, I’m not worried about what happened inside the apartment for obvious reason what I want you to really focus on is inside the elevator, but I’ll let you see whole the video anyway.” Harry said handing the phone to Louis as he sat in the desk chair and Louis sat on his desk, his legs in his arm rest holes pulling the chair in closer making Harry grin at how cute he was. Harry didn���t pay much attention to the video, but he knew when Louis got to the part where Hannah started coming on to him more and more. He’d make a face and his hand in Harry’s hair would tighten briefly but then came to the part where Maddie asked about Hannah tell her to ask the question upfront of Louis. His eyebrows rose and he grinned as if he found it amusing and when the video ended Louis laughed sliding down to straddle Harry’s lap.
“Even if Maddison had asked that it wouldn’t have bothered me.” Louis said.
“You got upset with the florist commented about my eyes sparkling with artificial bluebells.”
“Yeah, because she was wrong.” Louis said with an eye roll, “Your eyes sparkled with the purple Ranunculus.”
“Right the flowers we never even went near.” Louis rolled his eyes with a grin as he stood up, “How could I have forgotten those.”
“Someone’s sarcastic today and I don’t know if I like it, Harold.” Louis said with his arms folded, “It might hurt my feelings.”
“No not your feelings!” Harry said in fake outrage before he quickly wrapped his arms around Louis and kissed his face multiple times until he was pushing him away and running out of the room. Harry grinned as he grabbed his phone and hurried after him only to see he had teamed up with Freddie and Maddie in the matter of three seconds and all three of them had nerf guns points at him.
“CHARGE!” Louis shouted as he ran up the stairs and they ran after him shooting at him.
#Larry Stylinson#larry shippers#larries#larry stylinson fanfiction#larry fanfiction#fake marriage#nonfamous au#larry fake marraige au#doctor harry styles#teacher louis#parents au#Wattpad#archive of our own
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Agent Fury (Maria Hill x Reader)
Prompt: Can you do a Maria Hill imagine where the reader is Nick Fury’s daughter and her and Maria are the same age and they start dating secretly behind Fury’s back and he finds out
Words: 1939
Warnings: None? Secret relationships?
A/N: Aight, so I changed the prompt up a little. It’s kind of an established relationship to start out but I think it turned out pretty good.
-X-
Fury was certain something was going on. He didn’t know what exactly, but something was fishy. You were acting strange - stranger than usual, anyways. And strange wasn’t exactly the word he’d use.
You were acting different.
Smiles were more frequent and you had a pep in your step that he hadn’t seen in a long time. You were still calm and collected at work, yet there was something about you that left him perplexed.
-X-
“Good morning, Director Fury,” you greeted as you stepped into the Compound.
Fury nodded though it held a fatherly touch. He couldn’t been seen as playing favorites yet everyone knew you came before them. He was the director, but he was your father first. He cared about the good of mankind but you were his first priority; his only daughter.
Continuing through the halls, you said your good mornings to your fellow agents before finally coming across Maria Hill. She was standing in the center of a ring talking with new recruits. The newbies were watching her with wide eyes as she talked and so were you but not for the same reason. You could feel your heart fluttering as you stared at the beautiful woman, her blue eyes flickering up to meet your (e/c).
“Agent Fury,” she called out, startling the recruits. “Would you mind joining me?”
Nodding, you strolled over to her and climbed into the ring. Her fingers twitched like she wanted to reach out for you but she refrained. It was hard, though, having your girlfriend so close and not being able to hold her hand. Maria wasn’t the most affectionate partner but with you, she made the effort.
“This is Agent Fury,” Maria introduced, gesturing at you. “She’s one of our best and she will possibly be leading you on missions so if you see her, show her the utmost respect.”
You waved sheepishly at the new agents. You always got awkward when such high praises were sang. You did your best to be your best but to hear Maria introduce you with such pride made you a little embarrassed.
“Now, today we’re going to show you some close hand-to-hand combat. A lot of you were brought in due to your marksmanship skills and your talents outside of fighting but today, everyone will spar. It’ll give us an idea of your combat abilities. Agent Fury and I will demonstrate, then you’ll get up here,” Maria informed, her voice firm and commanding.
She gestured for you to settle in the other corner and you did, waiting for instructions. Maria set up in her own corner and you took a moment to soak in the sight of her.
She was in her usual attire - a black shirt and dark pants - but she looked gorgeous. She always did.
“Ready?”
At your nod, Maria raced forward at you and gave a calculated swing that you dodged easily. Your fist struck her torso, though you refused to hit her too hard. You would’ve hated yourself if you left a bruise.
She threw another punch and you caught her arm, flipping her onto her back. She stared up at you with a proud gleam in her eye. Knocking her down was a huge accomplishment. You offered her your hand but she looped her leg around yours and jerked you down, rolling on top of you before you could get up. You caught her hands as she tried to pin you but after a struggle, you conceded with a smile.
“Good job, agent,” she praised. Bending down, she whispered, “Meet me in the conference room in about an hour.”
You were confused, but you nodded all the same and Maria got off your hips and helped you to your feet. You nodded to the recruits as you slipped out of the ring and disappeared from the room, headed towards your station.
An hour couldn’t come fast enough.
-X-
Slipping into the conference room, you were startled when two arms slid around your waist and pulled you into a warm body. You immediately recognized Maria, but she had still scared you quite a bit.
“What are you doing?” you murmured. “If Dad catches us...”
“He won’t,” she assured you. “He’s in meetings all day. And,” Maria smiled though you couldn’t really see it in the dark, “I’ve missed you. That last mission was too long.”
You laughed, your arms coming around her neck. “I was only gone three days.”
“But you missed date night,” Maria pointed out.
You acknowledged her point with a jerk of your head before pressing your lips to hers. The kiss was soft and delicate, remaining simple despite the urge to deepen it. That would come later. The fact was, you were tucked away in secret without much time so there was no easy way to get lost in the embrace.
“How about I make it up to you tomorrow night?” you offered. “Dinner at my place?”
“That sounds nice,” Maria agreed, kissing your forehead.
You snuggled into her arms for a second then parted from her, despite your body’s screaming. You wished you could stay here, in this moment, forever but that was impossible.
You both had jobs to do.
-X-
The next night came faster than you anticipated and soon enough Maria was knocking on your door. You tossed it open and grinned. She was still in her SHIELD outfit, meaning she was excited enough to spend time with you that she hadn’t even gone home to change.
“Am I too early?” she asked, offering you a bottle of wine.
“Never,” you beamed, tugging her into your apartment. You set the bottle down and buried your hands in Maria’s hair, pulling her into a sweet but deep kiss.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly as you inches away, your forehead against hers.
“Hi,” you returned, mesmerized by how blue her eyes were.
The smell of your cooking trying to burn brought you out of your reverie and you rushed into the kitchen with Maria not too far behind, bottle in hand.
“Ooh, chicken Alfredo. My favorite,” she commented, leaning against the counter.
“I know,” you replied smugly, stirring the pasta.
When it was ready, the two of you sat down at your table and started eating, chatting about your day between bites. You understood how stressful Maria’s job was. Being your father’s second-in-command was tiring but you were always there to try and make it better for her.
“Agent Donovan isn’t going to last,” Maria commented after dinner, dragging you over to your couch so you could watch a movie.
“Why’s that?” you inquired curiously, flopping onto the couch beside her. You curled into her side, arm tossed over her waist.
“One of the other recruits accidentally broke his nose and he sat on the floor and cried.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you defended, “Broken noses hurt.”
“True, but in this line of work, a lot worse can happen,” she reminded you, handing you the television remote.
She wasn’t wrong but you still hoped whoever Donovan was would pass. Maybe they could find him a desk job. SHIELD needed good people now that it was restarted.
Flipping on a romantic comedy, the two of you watched it in silence for a few minutes before your lips started drifting along Maria’s neck. She shifted a little, her head tilting as your mouth explored the expansion of skin. Your hand rubbed her stomach and Maria sighed contently.
Eventually your kisses turned to nibbles and Maria began squirming a bit. Her neck was so sensitive and God, you enjoyed that. You loved turning her into a mess. You hadn’t gone very far in your relationship, but it was still fun.
Grabbing Maria’s chin, you tilted her head so that you could attach your lips to hers. Working together in a common dance, her tongue met yours and you moaned softly. Her lips were incredibly soft and you had always loved kissing her. Her tongue wrapped around yours and you inched your way into her lap, straddling her thighs, the movie long forgotten.
Her hands fell to your waist, her lips never leaving yours. Her strong fingers held you tight, keeping you close as you continued kissing. Your head was swimming, caught between lust and love, despite it being way too soon to admit that.
You were so caught up in each other that you never heard your door click open. Fury cautiously stepped inside, his hand on his gun as he entered. He’d been calling your phone for the last hour and you hadn’t picked up, so here he was, checking to make sure nothing bad had happened to you.
Making his way into the living room, he spotted you and froze. He’d known about your sexuality for years so to see you in the arms of a woman wasn’t surprising. Seeing you with Agent Hill, however, was.
He cleared his throat and you jerked your head to look at him. With a yelp, you fell off Maria’s lap and onto the floor, your eyes wide. Maria didn’t know if she should look at you or him, so she chose the safest option which was to help you up.
“Dad! Uh, what are you doing here?” you asked as you massaged your back. Your floor was not soft.
“I called. A lot. And you didn’t answer so I came over to make sure everything was okay. Had I known you had company, I wouldn’t have.”
You smiled uncomfortably. “Yeah, sorry. My phone is in my bedroom charging.”
Fury nodded, staring at Maria who was still refusing to look at him. He knew you were old enough not to need him watching your back but you were his little girl - despite being Maria’s age - and he was going to look out for you.
“Agent Hill,” he said, finally garnering her attention.
“Sir?” she answered, anxiety soaking that one word like a torrential rain.
“You better take care of my daughter,” he warned calmly, “And don’t let this affect anything at work. Your personal lives are your own but don’t bring them into the job.”
Maria nodded, relief flooding her. She’d been terrified he’d forbid you from seeing her or that it would jeopardize her position but clearly that wasn’t the case.
Fury’s attention fell upon you and a faint smile tugged at his lips.
“I’m happy for you, (Y/N). Agent Hill is a good woman. I hope she’ll make you happy.”
You walked over to Fury and tossed your arms around him. “She does. She really does,” you whispered.
He nodded, hugging you for a moment. “I’m glad. And I’m sorry for crashing your evening. I was just worried.”
“I know. I probably would’ve been too,” you admitted as you let him go. “With our line of work...”
“Missed calls are never a good sign,” he finished, earning a chuckle from you. “Well, enjoy the rest of your night and I’ll see you both tomorrow. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Agent Hill,” he teased as he left.
Maria’s face went red and you giggled.
“That went better than expected,” you said as you settled on the couch beside Maria.
“And you were worried,” Maria joked.
“So were you!”
Maria grinned, pecking your lips before throwing her arm around your shoulders. “Want to finish the movie?”
The mood had been effectively killed by your father but that was okay. A simple night in with your girlfriend, watching bad rom coms, sounded perfect because in this moment, your world was at peace and that’s all you cared about.
“Sounds great.”
#maria hill#marvel imagine#maria hill imagine#maria hill x reader#mcu imagine#mcu fic#reader#reader insert#reader imagine#Avengers#avengers imagine
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HIDDEN HILLS WEEKLY ISSUE #2
In this issue of Hidden Hills Weekly, we are talking about the outrageous lives of our celebrities in the gated community! We talk about polyamorous lovers to concerts in your every own kitchen!
ISABELLE AMOR’S ADDING ON TO HER POLY LIFESTYLE?
For the past week, Isabelle Amor, 28 has been in New York filming her newest show, “Only Murders In The Building.” She has been seen up and down the busy streets, filming scenes and having fun on set but fans have noticed that the singer/actress is having too much fun with her co-star. The pair have been seen getting quite cozy with one another when the cameras cut. They have been seen with big smiles and sparkles in their eyes. It comes as quite a shock as Isabelle is in an unconfirmed relationship with country music stars Annika Baddie, 25, and Cameron Nelson, 26. You did read that right, Isabelle is dating Both Annika and Cameron. They are living a polyamorous lifestyle where three people are all seeing each other.
Fans are wondering if Isabelle’s co-star is going to be added to her relationship with the country stars. Fans took it far enough to compare the relationship and pictures of Isabelle with her ex-boyfriends and current lovers to her new beau. Those pictures include her famous love story with James Hemmings, 27, with who they share one child together. Mateo Hemmings, 3. One fan stated on Twitter that - “Jelle is way more hotter than this! What is this?!” Along with the tweet was a shared picture of Belle with her co-star. While other fans tweeted that Belle looked happier with her two other loves. “Belle looks GLOWING with Ani and Cam! LET HER BE HAPPY!” Says another fan.
What do Annika and Cameron think about Isabelle potentially looking for another lover? What do you all think? Let us know!
WALLEN FATHERED A CHILD IN SECRET WITH MACKENZIE?
On February 26, 2021, the multi-talented actress Mackenzie Locklear, 23, told the world via Instagram that she had given birth on February 15th to a baby boy named Phoenix Finn Locklear. The actress went silent on all types of social media after the Sweetheart Dance we held on the 12th of this month until her huge announcement. We haven’t heard much about her birth but everyone is wondering who the father is. Mackenzie never said out in any interviews who the father of her son is but many people are assuming it’s Wallen Ward, 28, country singer. People are only assuming this as Mackenzie has been seen at many of Ward’s concerts in the past. She is either in the sound booth or she is backstage with everyone else. Wallen is currently married to Madeline King, 22, the youngest of the King Siblings.
We have reached out to all parties but we got nothing but got declined to speak from Locklear’s team, but we heard nothing back from King & Ward’s team just yet. But we will keep you all updated on the matter when we get the word!
ODESSA’S NIGHTMARE!
On the day of February 18th, 2021, we got reports of Daniel Kaylan, 29, had left his household with his daughter, Heather without notifying her mother and his fiancée, Odessa Fitzpatrick, 27. We were told that the police were called on the scene as Odessa had no idea where her daughter had gone to and assumed she had gone missing. It wasn’t clear where Daniel had gone with Heather but one thing that was clear is the fact that Odessa was not having any of it when Daniel revealed that he was the one who took Heather and left.
The couple just welcomed their third child, a son, into the world on the 14th of this month. Who they have not released the name yet. They also share another son, Wyatt, who is the oldest of the Kaylan Clan.
Rumors had spread that Odessa had indeed got the police involved once she could not find Heather anywhere and Daniel had to come home to talk them himself to explain what had really gone down. We know for sure, this is something he will never do again and might spend the rest of the year in the dog house for this one!
LOVE TRIANGLE IS STILL ON THE RISE!
Is 5 Seconds Of Summer’s guitarist still in love with a former groupie? The answer is unclear to many but also very clear to those around them! Spencer Stone, 25, used to sleep around constantly with Lanie Sinclair, 22, back when the band was touring for their album Sounds Good Feels Good. They currently share two children together, Lyric, 4, and Mercury, 2 months. Everything was going well between the two as co-parents before Spencer moved in with his girlfriend, Francesca “Frankie” Hart, 25. The house was already sold but Lanie ended up staying the night with Spencer the weekend before the big move and rumors have it that they have done more than just kiss that night. Sources had said that Sinclair left early in the morning with their daughter and her daughter, Lucina, 9 months, who she shares with her current boyfriend, Theodore “Theo” Dean, 26. Lanie was currently pregnant when she stayed the night.
Rumors only fueled even more as Lanie went off with Theo to Paris for nearly a month after giving birth to her son with Spencer. Theo was fresh out of an engagement with Nicole Hampton, 24, and Lanie was dealing with Spencer’s flip-flopping feelings for her. Sources had said in Aspen that Stone had made Sinclair cry more than once. Reports claim to overhear a fight between Spencer and Frankie as he admitted kissing Lanie. Witnesses say that Hart claimed to feel like she had been cheated on since Spencer agreed to father another baby with Lanie without talking to her about it first. This caused a huge rift between Hart and Stone in Las Vegas where Frankie walked out on him during blackout dinner.
During the Sweetheart Dance, many eyewitnesses had said that the whole night Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from his ex-groupie while she danced with her former turned current boyfriend Theo. What will Frankie think about all of this? What does Theo think about all of this as well?
SCOTTIE’S FREE CONCERT!
The Model/Youtuber Scottie Blake, 27, made headlining news when she went live on Instagram the other night and totally forgotten about it! It went from attempting to make pasta for dinner into a full-on action concert for thousands of people unknowing to her. Many of her fans were delighted to see Scottie enjoying herself as she danced around her kitchen and sang her heart out to her favorite songs. They blasted through her speakers and we do not blame her for forgetting about being live! When you have great music taste like Scottie, it’s common to forget what you were doing and just want to have some fun.
One fan wrote on Twitter, “LOOK AT HOW CUTE SCOTTIE IS!” With many heart emojis and a screenshot from the live.
Although trolls were making fun of the model, many of Scottie’s fans were quick to defend her and one started out. “As if you don’t do this when you’re alone lmao bye”
One thing is for sure, Scottie Blake, we need that album, and secondly, keep on dancing and never stop!
NICOLE HAMPTON IS TURNING TO A WRITER!
The rumors might be true! They might be false! But we do hope it’s true! Nicole Hampton, 24, had said it herself that she planned on writing a book called - “boy mom shit - you’ll be grey before thirty.” She then goes on to explain why she decided to write a book on parenting. It was because of her oldest son, Zeus, 6, who she shares with Derek King, 27. He was attempting to talk to his youngest brother, Asher, 4, who she shares with Brody Roberts, 30, to jump off his bed onto his skateboard so that he could ‘surf’ down the stairs. Luckily, Mama Hampton was quick to put that idea out of their heads and put their safety into their minds. Who knows what could have happened if she didn’t catch them in time!
As we are all parents in Hidden Hills, it would be so nice to hear what other parents have to go through. All children are wild, fun, and beautiful. They may drive us all up the wall but we do love them with all of our hearts! So, Nicole, we would love and buy your book! Give us a call when it’s about to be released! Don’t be shy now!
BRODY IS MOVING ON?!
Yes, you heard it here first! Brody Roberts says that he is ready to move on with his life and find that special someone! Our close sources say that he has come to terms with his ex-girlfriend, Nicole Hampton, 24 is moving on with her life and he is ready to do the same. As we stated in a previous story, the couple shares a son together, Asher, 5. The producer and director have been keeping a low profile recently but want to change that and step out more. We have to say that we’re excited to see Brody out and about again!
People close to the director stated that he wanted to connect with someone and meet that special someone in an authentic way and is adamantly opposed to dating apps. We get it, we don’t want to be catfished in this household. We were told that he has been asking around for ideas of places to meet people and even may have asked a few people to join him on that adventure. We do not know who at this time but once we get more details, we will share them with you all!
#hidden hills weekly.#issue 2.#isabelle amor.#cameron nelson.#annika badie.#james hemmings.#mackenzie locklear.#wallen ward.#madeline king.#theo dean.#spencer stone.#lanie sinclair.#odessa fitzpatrick.#daniel kaylan.#scottie blake.#nicole hampton.#brody roberts.
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Bucky Barnes x Reader
One Shot
Word Count: 2292
Warnings: PTSD and a soft Bucky boy
A/N: Established friends. Bucky dealing with some PTSD coming home from a mission just needing some fluff. Which is different for me to write so feedback is cool.
Bucky was quiet and that was nothing out of the ordinary, especially after a mission. This one had some close calls but we all made it out alive, minimal damage and that was a success to you. You knew he was struggling regardless though, he didn’t hide it well or maybe you just knew him well enough now. You gave him some time though. That's what everyone seemed to need when we got back, some time to decompress, shower, get any wounds cleaned up and stitched. Maybe eat and even get some sleep before interacting again.
Everyone respected each other's way of dealing, and for you a deep clean shower and some food was all it took to spark you back up. Feeling like a new person once the dirt and grime and blood was scrubbed off twice. It was quiet on the compound though, figuring everyone else was cooped up in their room and that just gave you the freedom. Getting a pot, filling it with water and waiting for it to boil because after some strenuous activity - carbs. Mac and cheese specifically.
Changing into a long sleeve shirt Bucky lend you when you first got here, something you refused to get rid of and something you wished still smelt like him but not something you’d ever admit. A pair of black shorts under the maroon shirt and some thick wool socks because these super soldiers for some reason never got cold.
A song swirling in your head, the tune coming out in a hum as your hips swayed with it a bit, standing over the pot of water that hasn’t even shown any sign of life yet. Your phone in your hands as you stand in front of it, scrolling through the social media account you’re not supposed to have but it’s under an alias so you figured no harm, no foul, right? Right.
“If you add salt it will boil faster…” His voice breaks the silence of the compound and the song in your head, jumping back and clutching your phone to your chest. “Bucky, Jesus… can you give a girl a notice…” Your heart is pounding in your chest and honestly it doesn’t help that it’s Bucky. He’s usually the most recluse after a mission and he was the last one you expected to break the silence. You heard him though and grab the salt, “Like, how much salt?” You narrow your eyes slightly and he rolls his in return before closing the distance. Cooking wasn’t your forte but you could bake Satan into forgiveness.
Taking the salt from you and you get a catch of his scent, that dumb old spice he uses - it was big around the time he went to the war so maybe it felt familiar. He smelt good regardless and it was only dumb because it was familiar to you now. It was Bucky. It’s what the shirt used to smell like and you glanced at the side of his face as he poured in just a bit of salt and set it down and created some distance. Bucky was - beautiful. The way his damp hair fell, the scruff of his beard still somehow accented his jaw and his lashes hid those blue eyes that held conversations.
You had been with this team for almost a year. Found and brought in by Fury, fighting was all you were good at but as the team worked with you - you found your place, your power and some days were better than others but regardless you had grown. Bucky was a part of that, he made it hard to speak when he looked at you in the beginning but now he just couldn’t shut you up. You had pushed your feelings for him aside, far aside. He had never shown interest in that kind of way and even in close tension times he never made a move. When you asked Natasha about him she just said not to get your hopes up.
“Thanks salt bae.” You give him a smug smile and grab the two boxes of pasta, ripping them open and waiting to see a bubble to throw it in.
“I don’t even want to know…” He mumbles back to your comment, grabbing a glass and getting some water. A navy long sleeve shirt and sweats, somehow still fitting and you’re glad you have bubbles to hunt for. “I can’t believe you still have that shirt.. That was almost a year ago, right?” The glass is brought up to his lips when you look at him, a shrug and a nod before you glance around to make sure he isn’t talking to someone else.
Time wasn’t kind to Bucky and when he asked things like that you knew he was scared. Did he remember, did more time pass, was the mission real or was it someone else's, did he go off on his own, did someone get a hold of him. Some of the questions that flooded his head when it got bad. Some of the questions he had asked you in a moment of panic.
“Yeah, almost a year ago and what can I say, you stretched it out just right.” You froze a bit, did that sound sexual, would Bucky get it as that? You cheeks flush slightly but he doesn’t catch on and you breathe.
A short chuckle through his nose, “And we were gone for 26 days this time?” His jaw flexed with the question when you looked over at him. You take the second to pour the pasta in before taking the few steps to Bucky, searching his eyes but not touching him as difficult as that was. “26 exactly, Buck… You were there for all of them. You didn’t leave our sides. I promise.” Your voice soft and Bucky brought this side out of you that you didn’t know you had. Most of your life was spent being harsh and using sarcasm as a coping mechanism. Alone.
This was the first sense of a family in years and that was another reason you pushed your feelings aside, you couldn't put this in jeopardy.
He presses his lips in a line and takes another drink to finish off the glass, “Right.. Yeah, thanks..” There was still doubt in his eyes but all you could do was tell him the truth that he was there, he’d have to figure the rest out on his own. As much as you wished he would lean on someone even if it wasn’t you.
Your fingers twitched to just run a hand down his arm but you resisted and went back to the pot boiling now. Stirring it with a butter knife because finding the right utensil was too difficult right now, the look in Bucky's eyes still dwelling. A red plastic ladle spoon coming over your shoulder and you let out a huff taking it and putting the knife on the counter. “Would you like to take over, Chef Barnes?” Glancing over your shoulder with a smirk. “If you want it to be edible then I probably should.” Bucky had lots of hidden talents and cooking was one of them even though he made a lot of soups - they were delicious. Mocking him with an eye roll you give up your position and the ladle. “It’s mac and cheese, don’t let it go to you head.” Your arms crossed under your chest as you watch like it's some kind of lesson now or maybe it just gave an excuse to see if he was okay.
“It’s macaroni and cheese and you’d still find a way to ruin it.” His lips tug at the corner and it's enough to force a full one across your lips. Lighthearted Bucky was hard to come by but god it was beautiful and rare, a unicorn almost. You reach over and poke his arm, “I don’t ruin everything… just - things you consume.” You let a soft laugh leave your lips. He gives you a sideways glance and you poke him again, he shakes his head and you pass his arm and get his side where he flinches and there's a glimpse of a full smile that gets a soft laugh out of you. “Someone is ticklish!” You tease and he puts the spoon down in the pot, “I’m not.” He crosses his arms and gives you a warning glance but you can’t help yourself, wiggling your fingers at him like he's a four year old and he steps back. It’s enough of a motion you launch at him and your fingers start digging into his sides and he's laughing. Looking like a fucking god with his hair and he has an open mouth smile and that sweet sound of his laugh. It doesn’t last long though, he has both of your wrists and while the look in his eyes is playful you are quite aware of just how fucked you are.
“Fuck…” He quirks an eyebrow at you and before you can even try to get away he turns you around and wraps both his arms over yours, picking you up off the ground and you’re pleading, “I’m sorry! I won’t tell anyone Bucky, your secret is safe with me! Don’t crush me! Don't tickle me! Please!” You struggle to get free and he finally lets your feet hit the ground a few steps away from the boiling pot and he does his best to keep you trapped with his left, heavy arm while the right digs at your sides and you’re losing. Screaming and laughing and threatening you’re going to pee when he lets you go with a laugh, a genuine laugh coming from Bucky again, you wonder if he knows how breathtaking this view is and you’re staring while you catch your breath, laughing subsiding and he asks, “What?” Catching the way you’re looking at him.
“Nothing, it’s just nice to see you smile.” There's still a soft one on your lips but his falters just a bit and he shrugs. The moment feels lost and there's a pang of guilt that hits you and forces you to act out. Your arms wrap around his neck and you pull him in, its for just a few seconds before you realize and you start to let go but his arms wrap around your lower back. Firm, heavy and keeping you pressed up against him. Sure it wasn’t your first hug but it was only like your third and it felt nice each time. He was warm, solid, Bucky always felt safe even if he was just in plain view things felt safe and you knew you didn’t provide that kind of net to him but you hoped it was something.
“You’ve been here the whole time Bucky, I promise.” This hug was different, the way he had his arms around you and his forehead on your shoulder burying his face, your fingers brush through his hair and move over the tops of his shoulders. There's a muffled sound from him but he doesn’t let himself enjoy it, lifting his head and looking at you, and it says it all as he lets go, turns the stove off and nods to head to bed. He’s right, sleep is needed but how much better would sleep be in his arms - and that's when you’re sure there won’t be much sleep tonight.
And you’re right, time is in slow motion and it’s only been an hour since overcooking noodles and it feels like the sun should be up any minute. Your brain won’t shut off thinking you did the wrong thing, moved too quick, touched too much. It’s not like - and there's a knock.
You’re almost sure it’s going to be Steve from being too loud earlier or to see if you’re going to finish the macaroni so you swing the door open with a sigh but it’s quick caught in your throat when it’s Bucky.
“I- sorry… I wasn’t expecting, are you - is everything okay?” You look around him and then at him, he walks in your room as if opening the door was enough of an invitation. Heading straight for your bed and laying on his back. “I can’t sleep.” This is out of character for Bucky and your expression shows that. He knows that and he closes his eyes with a sigh, talking that way as if not looking at me would make it easier. “I - my mom used to do that. I remember it. Used to run her fingers through my hair when I couldn’t sleep and I -” You get where he’s going and while you want to revel in this moment this is Bucky being vulnerable and it wouldn’t last if it wasn’t acted on. You make your way on your bed, sitting up against the bed frame and pat your thigh. “I don’t mind, Bucky.” Your voice is soft. He head now on your thigh and your fingers scratch at his scalp before running through his hair, silence between the two of you and both your eyes close.
This is far off from you usually having your own guard up for the sake of your feelings and Bucky having the multitude of his from decades of people fucking with him. Everything is broken down right now and that’s dangerous grounds for you because you know in a few hours he will act like this never happened. You swallow down that emotion creeping up and wait for sleep to take over both of you.
#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fandom#marvel fan fic#marvel fic#marvel fiction#fan fic#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes smut#eventual smut#fan fiction#writing#bucky barnes and reader#sebastian stan#sebastian stan fandom#stucky x reader#bucky x you#stucky#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fandom#steve rogers x reader#fanfic#{ my writing }
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1130
survey by nadine07
Where were you three hours ago?
Was passed out on the living room couch and probably dreaming away, lmao.
Were you with anyone?
Both my dogs were in the living room with me, if that counts.
Have you had anything alcoholic in the last 24 hours?
Hmm, I’m trying to remember but I don’t think so. I went outside to eat, but I doubt they put any alcohol in my meal since I literally had a truffle-based pasta. No plans to drink this weekend, either.
Are you wearing shoes right now?
Nope, I’m always barefoot around the house.
How long have you known your 1st phone contact?
At least since the 6th grade cos I think that’s when she had transferred to my school.
Are they a relative?
Nope, I went to school with her. We were seatmates for a while in sophomore year and that’s when I was able to see how talented she was at drawing and painting. She ended up transferring to UP as well after getting accepted to the fine arts program so we got to be collegemates as well, though I don’t really remember what university she initially got admitted to.
Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes?
Yeah, because I’m a dumb fuck when it comes to these things. I WILL SAY though that I’ll be so much kinder to myself should this ever happen, and no longer tolerate her bullshit and emotional/mental abuse under the guise of ~unconditional love. There’ll be a lot of shit she’ll have to pick up and fix, and I wouldn’t get back with her unless she acknowledges her mistakes and seek to correct them.
Would you ever go skinny dipping with the last person who commented you?
That would be Leigh, and no. Idk if I’ve shared this or if this has ever come up on a survey but Andi actually once asked me if I’d like to be a part of a threesome with them and Leigh, and I just had to immediately decline because I view Leigh as a younger sister more than anything and I can’t bear to see her all naked loooool.
When was the last time you saw a movie in theaters?
December 2019.
When did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with?
I think the morning of New Year’s Eve. I was already starting my healing process by then and the holidays were getting me feeling kind of peaceful, so I sent her a few voice notes thanking her for the year that was but giving her a heads-up that I might not talk to her for a while, because I realized I was starting to get happier on the days I didn’t force conversation with her.
I honestly thought ‘a while’ would only take a couple of weeks, but I’ve since gotten used without her presence and it’s been 3 1/2 months since our final encounter; and I think it will stay this way now.
Has anyone called you beautiful today?
No.
Are you still friends with the last person who broke your trust?
That would be JM, and yeah. I find him ridiculous for lying to our faces about joining a fraternity in law school (frats are a big yuck where I live because of their toxic hazing and misogynist culture), but I mean I still sort of understand why he had to do it - obviously not for the above reason, but for the perks and support that usually come with joining frats. From now on I’ll always see him as someone who can smoothly lie to my face, though.
Does drama seem to follow you everywhere?
No. I would hate that lol, that would just be too much to handle.
Do you feel like anyone is playing mind games with you right now?
No.
How would you feel if your best friend hooked up with your ex?
I think my literal first reaction would be to laugh out of sheer disbelief, and then proceed to call her stupid for cheating and for choosing to cheat with her. After that’s died down, I think I’d mostly feel disappointed and betrayed.
How long did your last relationship last?
The stint lasted 4 years, but we were technically together for 6 years if we’re counting the whole on/off thing.
If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today?
No. That’s what I had thought and they left. I’ve stopped trusting my feelings about these things anymore, and will assume anyone is capable of leaving.
Does it make you uncomfortable to talk on the phone around people?
I just don’t want to be loud enough that I’m almost screaming around other people, but I can’t always monitor that since I have to concentrate on what I’m hearing on the other line.
Would you rather be 10 years older or 10 years younger?
Probably 10 years older so that I can see into my future.
Have you ever kissed someone the same night your met them?
No.
Do you bite your fingernails?
Occasionally. I pick at them more frequently.
Would you consider yourself very flexible?
Nah. Like I said on a previous survey, I can’t even reach my toes either while standing up or stretching on the floor.
Do you embarrass easily?
Yeah.
Have you ever tried to talk your way out of getting a ticket?
Yup. It’s happened twice; one of the occasions I was able to handle by myself and the other time Gab had to step in to talk to the officer because he was adamant about the ticket and I had started crying.
Did it work?
Yes, both times. I’ve only been issued a ticket once, from this annoying grumpy officer in Alabang.
Have you ever been banned from anywhere?
Trying to remember if I have been, but I don’t think so.
Do you have a ringtone or do you leave your phone on vibrate?
The important messaging apps are on vibrate. I’ve turned off notifications for some apps and I have just the silent banner notifications for others.
What was the last thing you drank from a mug?
I’m drinking coffee from one right now.
Has your #1 ever seen you naked?
Does your #2 know your deepest secret?
Will your #3 repost this?
Does your #4 smoke?
Were you born in the 90's?
Yes, but by the end of it so I never considered myself a 90s kid.
When was the last time you paid less than $1 for something?
The parking fee in Feliz.
Have you loaned anything out to anyone recently?
Nope.
Are any of your siblings married?
None of us are.
Who was the last person to spend the night with you at your house?
Gabie.
How many different picture ids do you have in your wallet?
Just my driver’s license and TIN ID.
Do you have a hard time making decisions?
Depends on the weight of the decision. The heavier it is, the more I seek out friends who can provide fresh perspectives.
Has anyone kissed you when you weren't expecting it?
Idk, Gabie probably snuck in some surprise ones a few times. IBetween the two of us I was more likely to do so, though.
Did you like it?
If she did then I probably did during that time.
Who was your date to senior prom?
We have junior prom, not senior prom. I just bought my favorite cousin since I had no interest in boys and was still learning how to make guy friends at that point.
Does your dad smoke?
No, he’s never tried.
Is your mom over 50?
She is turning 50 this year, but not until September.
Do you want to get married?
It would be nice to experience it.
Have kids?
Yes.
Are there any movies coming out you wanna see?
Not that I know of. There are movies I do want to see, but they’ve already come out, like Ammonite and I Care A Lot.
Do you ever feel like you're leading a double life?
No.
Do you have any plans to get a new tattoo or piercing?
Tattoo, yeah. I’m just super chill about said plan and am not really in a hurry about it. I’ve yet to think of a design and where on my body to place it.
Do you know anyone named Christine?
I know several people named Christine but they go by a nickname, like Tin.
Do you know anyone who's biracial?
Sure, I went to high school with a couple of girls who are both half-brown and half-white as they both have European dads. I believe one of them is part German while the other girl is part Swiss.
Do you know anyone who works at Walmart?
I don’t think so. I know my aunts who live in the US will occasionally shop there though, hahaha.
Has the last person you rode in a car with seen you in your underwear?
I mean yeah, as a baby and as a young kid (it was my mom).
Are black bras sexy?
They can be, sure.
Spell your full name without 'C','I','R', or 'Y':
Obn.
Open the nearest book, turn to page 11, and type the first sentence:
I’m at a Starbucks rn and didn’t bring any books with me.
Are you currently listening to anything?
There’s jazz music faintly playing at the moment.
Would you ever consider getting breast implants?
Before I definitely used to, when people still liked to make fun of small boobs. Nowadays I don’t feel the need to anymore.
If you could spend 30 minutes with someone who's gone, who would you pick?
I’d probably pick my great-grandpa over my grandpa. I never met the former; and if I only had 30 minutes with my grandpa (who I did grow up with) I think it would just fuck with me psychologically.
Are you on birth control?
Nopes.
Do you know anyone who is bisexual?
Lots.
Would you walk into Walmart naked for $10,000?
Yes.
Does anyone call you babe?
No.
Do you hate it when people try to play with your hair?
If I’m not close enough to them I would feel bothered, yes.
Who would you tell, or who did you tell when you lost your virginity?
I think I had just told Sofie then.
Were you in a relationship 6 months ago?
Yeah but it was cracking and it was cracking fast. It’ll be hitting 6 months this March, actually.
Are you still with that person?
No.
Are you the kind of person who has crazy mood swings?
No. This happens to my mom and I hate it very much, so I try to watch my actions and not switch rapidly between different moods.
This is question 69...so have you ;)?
Sure.
How long is it until your birthday?
Around a month and a couple of weeks.
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Not Your Guardian Angel: Chapter 4
Marked
Book 3: Not Your Guardian Angel
Chapter 4
[ Previous | First | Next ]
Gymnastics runs late on Wednesday, and there’s an accident on the rural highway between there and the house. By the time Pels pulls into the driveway next to Peter’s SUV, it’s well after eight instead of just before six. Before she can manage to get the key out of the ignition, the porch light clicks on and the front door opens, a figure standing in silhouette against the interior lights of the house.
“You texted Mom, right?” Pels says.
“When we left the place late, and when we got stalled on the road, yes,” Cheyenne says. “She knows. My dad knows. It’s not our fault, Pels, and they aren’t going to say anything. I’m sure they’re just glad we made it home safe.”
“I’m here,” Dad murmurs, and for once, Pels is glad of that fact.
“You could’ve mentioned the accident,” Pels grumbles as Cheyenne gets out and grabs her bag from the back. “We could’ve—”
“There’s only one way between here and there.” Cheyenne pauses with her head stuck in the car. “I mean. I’m guessing you were talking to your dad and all, but I really doubt he knows his way around here any better than you do, unless he’s omniscient since he’s a guardian angel. But still. There really wasn’t any other way to get back, anyway.”
“It’s not that it was the right way,” Dad says, nodding along with Cheyenne’s words. “It was the only way. It’s hard to be in the right place at the right time when there aren’t any choices.”
“I wish that made sense.” Pels yanks the keys out of the ignition and climbs out. The figure in the door moves, and in the flash of light Pels can see that it’s Mom and she’s relieved at that one small thing in their favor.
“Dinner’s waiting,” Mom says as Pels hangs the keys on the hook by the door. “Both of you go clean up and Cheyenne, put your school things away, and I’ll get dinner on the table.”
Cheyenne stops, one foot on the stairs, and turns around.
“You waited?” Pels asks.
“We eat dinner as a family in this house,” Peter says, his voice low and deep. He stands in the doorway to the dining room, and Pels avoids looking him in the eye. It’s just easier that way. She has to deal with him—as he says, they’ve had meals as a family since she arrived home. But she figures if she doesn’t meet his eyes—doesn’t rock the boat—they won’t have an argument.
“Cheyenne, go get changed,” Peter says. “Pels—”
“Go get cleaned up,” Mom reiterates, and Pels takes advantage of that to hurry up the stairs.
“He’s pissed,” Cheyenne says quietly as Pels passes her room. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Like you said, nothing that happened was anything we could have changed,” Pels reminds her. “It’s okay. He’ll blame me because I was driving, and he’s just going to bluster and complain. I’ve weathered it before.”
Still, she moves quickly washing her hands, while Cheyenne stows her school things away and changes out of her gymnastics clothes. They go downstairs together, Pels one step above just so she’s taller than Cheyenne for those brief moments. It’s slightly petty, but Cheyenne smiles back at her like she gets why she’s doing it.
When they reach the dining room, Mom’s just putting spaghetti in the center of the table before taking her seat at the foot. Cheyenne moves around her to take the seat in front of the china cabinet, to Peter’s left, and Pels takes the seat opposite. They’ve sat the same way since Cheyenne was in a high chair with plastic spread under her seat; it’s not changing now when it hasn’t changed in any house along the way.
Mom places her hands on the table, and Pels reaches to take one, her other hand resting on the table close to Peter. She bites her tongue when Peter grips her fingers hard.
“We thank you, God, for all the blessings that we hold as a family,” Peter says, his voice low and firm. “We are blessed to be filled with God on a daily basis, and that the devil cannot take hold.” Behind him, Dad points to himself, then mimes devil’s horns at the top of his head as Peter continues, unaware. “We are blessed with our health, and with our devotion. We are blessed to have work that sustains us, and a roof over our head. We are blessed to be part of your Church and your belief, and we blessed to be with you. Thank you for this meal, and that we may partake in it as a family, together. Amen.”
“Amen,” Mom and Cheyenne echo, while Pels mouths the word.
They wait while Peter fills his bowl with spaghetti, ladling sauce on top and adding meatballs and sausage. After that, Mom fills Cheyenne’s bowl, then serves Pels as well, before she takes her own.
No one eats until Peter does.
The air is thick around them, laden with unsaid words. Cheyenne keeps her eyes cast down, eating as quietly and quickly as she can. Pels eats with half an eye on Dad as he moves around the room, fingers drifting over the glass front of the china cabinet, then the pictures that hang on the wall beyond.
Cheyenne finishes first, setting her fork carefully into her pasta bowl as she rises. “I’ve got homework—”
“Sit,” Peter interrupts her.
Cheyenne thunks back down on the seat as strings were cut. “Yes, Dad,” she says quietly. “I know you haven’t finished eating, but there was an accident, and I still need to—”
“I’m aware,” Peter says.
There’s an echo to his voice. It’s one Pels recognizes—his Ministry voice. He could do so much good with it, she thinks. He has charisma. He commands the room. And yet he is so narrow-minded that Pels could never trust him.
She won’t think about the fact that she hates him. Mom would flip if she used that word.
“Do you know what caused the accident?” Peter asks.
Pels glances at Cheyenne, then at Dad. She remembers driving carefully by after waiting, all traffic alternating in the one lane while the other lane was blocked by a van flipped upside down, and a tractor-trailer tipped on its side. She and Cheyenne both shake their head.
“There was a whirlwind,” Peter tells them, his elbows on the table, fingers steepled in front of his face. “I know, because one of our Church reached out to me, to help them in their time of need. Their child, you see… their child Emerged in anger, the devil spinning through him to create a storm out of nothing, in the midst of the road. The storm tossed those vehicles as if they were nothing but toys, and all because of a child’s tantrum.”
“It wasn’t our fault that we were late,” Pels says firmly. She’s not sure where he’s going with this, but she can see that he’s winding up for a lecture. Maybe she can cut it off, or focus it on herself and keep Cheyenne from taking the brunt of it.
Peter’s gaze narrows, falling on her. There’s a breeze, and Pels is aware that Dad is standing beside her, his hand on her shoulder, waiting in solidarity even if no one else knows.
Peter’s gaze falls to the table, to where Pels’s hand sits, a fork still loosely held, the sleeve of her blouse riding up to show the shadowed ink on the inside of her wrist. “The devil will find his way in,” he murmurs. “We have paid to send you to that hellhole of a school, where they teach you that the devil is nothing but heredity. Where they preach that the devil is something to be proud of, something to invite in and then let escape to do more damage to the world at large. And you come home bearing the devil’s own marks, to show your pride in what he offers you.”
“It’s not like that,” Pels says as evenly as she can. She tucks her hand back against herself, crossing her arms. “I’m not trying to show my pride in my Talent—”
“And yet, you take the devil’s mark and bear it,” Peter says.
The pictures on the wall shift, clattering against it. The plates inside the china cabinets rattle softly.
“Shit.” Dad is by the cabinet now, one hand reaching across to hold the doors closed.
Cheyenne twists her napkin between her fingers atop the table, staring down.
“We should take you out of that school.”
“Peter, no,” Mom says. “She’ll be back when it’s done. I was.”
“Pregnant.” The one word falls from Peter’s lips like a stone into silence broken by the chittering of the plates in the cabinet. “You returned, yes, but you were fallen and in need of his grace to help you rise again and rejoin the Church. Now they gather again like lemmings drawn to the water. The devil makes them ripe for the picking to join the secret army that will destroy the devoted, faithful families of our world.”
Dad’s hand clenches briefly where it rests against the cabinet, and the door clatters open before he can flatten his hand again, pushing it closed with a thunk.
Cheyenne’s shoulders are hunched, her breath ragged. She picks the napkin into tiny pieces, dropping each shred with a breath.
Peter lowers his hands flat against the table, looking first at Pels, then at Cheyenne, as if the room isn’t starting to shake around them. “I am so very grateful,” he says softly. “I thank God every day that in his wisdom, he has saved my family, and that no child of mine will ever be Talented.”
There is soft emphasis on the word mine, and silence for a moment after his final word.
The cabinet crashes open, the doors swinging wide despite Dad’s attempts to hold them shut. Pictures fall from the walls, glass shattering when they hit the floor. Dad moves quickly to get between the plates that fly from the china cabinet and Peter, his hands out to keep them from hitting Peter. Dad sweeps the plates away, and everything else just stops, hanging in mid-air.
“Pels,” Peter says darkly.
Cheyenne stands up, and everything drops.
Pels stands as soon as she does, reaching across the table. “Cheyenne, come with me. You’ve got homework.”
“Cheyenne, you will—”
“Let them go.” Mom’s voice is soft in the wake of the destruction, calm where Peter’s was quietly violent. “Help me clean this up.”
“Your daughter—”
“Our daughter.”
There’s nothing after that, and Pels doesn’t wait to see if the conversation starts up again, hurrying up the stairs with Cheyenne in tow.
“We should go out,” Pels says softly. “You need to get out of here.”
“I’ll be fine. I promise.” Cheyenne shifts her hold on Pels, shoving her towards Pels’s room. “Please. Let’s just sit quietly. I’m okay. I’m done.”
They leave the door cracked. Dad crouches by it, as if he needs to be able to see into the hallway to know who’s coming. The way he looks out through the crack lets Pels believe that she and Cheyenne are being given privacy, as they sit on her bed.
“I’m okay,” Cheyenne says again as Pels inspects her hands. “No cuts. Nothing touched me. And it was all my fault. He started talking, and I just… I just…” She hiccups, and breath catches as tears roll down her face. “It just started. I couldn’t stop it and then I could, and it just all hung there in the air, and now he thinks you did it, because he doesn’t know. I need to tell him.”
“No.” Pels’s heart clenches. “God, no, you can’t say a word to him. Didn’t you hear him? I knew he didn’t care about me. I knew he didn’t think of me as his kid, but that—he just said no child of his is going to be Talented. If he finds out, he’s going to throw you out, and right now I don’t know….”
Cheyenne sniffles, and Pels doesn’t finish the sentence.
She’s not sure she can trust Mom to protect her.
“Shit,” Pels mutters.
Cheyenne huffs a soft, wet laugh. “Yeah, that about sums it up. Maybe ‘damn’ would be more appropriate. Because he thinks we’re damned. Devils and all.”
“You’re not devils,” Dad says quietly.
Pels opens her arms, and Cheyenne burrows close to her. Pels strokes a hand over her hair. “Dad would like you to know that we’re not devils. And given that he’s dead, and therefore closer to heaven and hell than anyone else we know, I’d say he’s probably the authority.”
“On the other hand, I don’t think this place is safe for you, either,” Dad adds.
“Where is she going to go?” Pels asks. “It’s not like she can just leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Cheyenne insists, muffled where her face is pressed against Pels’s shoulders.
“She’s not going anywhere,” Dad echoes. They speak in tandem when they say, “You are.”
Pels nudges Cheyenne away so she can hold her shoulders, look her in the eyes. “No,” she says flatly. “I’m not leaving you here alone with him.”
“You can’t stay,” Cheyenne insists. “I’m going to be fine. I can learn to control it. And he’s not going to yell as much when you’re not here. He thinks I fart halos.”
Pels blinks, a snicker catching her unaware. It’s contagious, and as Cheyenne leans back in, they end up holding each other, laughing until the tears stream down their faces.
“You fart halos,” Pels giggles, wiping at her face.
Cheyenne pushes her hair back from her face where it’s slipped from her ponytail as she nods earnestly. “I fart halos,” she repeats. “And sunbeams. And he probably thinks I shit the holy gospel.”
“Whereas I’m named for it, and he thinks I’m the most evil thing in the house.” It’s a sobering thought, and it dries up the laughter quickly.
“Which is why you need to leave,” Cheyenne says firmly. “And why I need to stay. I can’t run away now. As long as I’m here, he’ll keep seeing what he wants to see from me. I’ll be safe. And if you’re not here, you’ll be safe, too.”
“She’s right,” Dad says. He nudges the door closed but not latched, then joins them where they sit on the bed, one hand on Pels’s shoulder. “Cheyenne’s going to be fine.”
“You don’t know that,” Pels says. She means it for both of them. “But fine. I’ll try to figure a way to get out of here. We just need to make sure you don’t get in trouble for it. And I’ll try to get you information on someone who can help you learn about controlling your Telekinesis better.” And hopefully that can be someone who can help if Cheyenne ends up at risk, too.
“It’s a deal,” Cheyenne agrees. She hugs Pels hard, then slowly disengages. “Can I stay here tonight?”
“Yeah, of course. Go get your things.”
Pels hunches on the edge of the bed after Cheyenne leaves. The sound of her door in the distance is soft, and now that her own door is open she can hear voices from downstairs. She’s not sure what they’re saying, but neither Peter nor Mom sound happy.
When there are footsteps on the stairs, she quickly shoves her phone under the blankets, as if she might have something incriminating on the screen, and picks up her feet to sit cross-legged on the edge. Dad stands by the door, and Pels smiles as her mom looks in, frowning.
“I thought Cheyenne would be here,” she says slowly.
“She will be. She’s going to crash in here with me tonight,” Pels replies. She wonders sometimes how much Mom really knows. What she’s paid attention to and believes, and what she’s simply discarded out of her belief in her Church. What she denies because she feels like she has to.
It feels like she pays more attention than she says she does. For Cheyenne’s sake, Pels hopes that Mom is paying attention, and will keep her safe.
“Some sisterly bonding will be good for us,” Pels continues. “She’s a little agitated.”
Mom’s hand on the doorknob tightens. “Peter is going out to the church.” Her words are careful, slow and steady. “He’s meeting with the family involved in the accident tonight, trying to help them.”
“Casting the devil out, you mean,” Pels says dryly.
“Don’t instigate,” Dad murmurs. “This isn’t the time.”
“Pels.” Mom’s tone is sad, maybe disappointed, but not angry. “He’ll be gone soon. After he leaves, come down and get something to bring back up to eat. You didn’t finish as fast as Cheyenne did; you must be hungry.”
She leaves the door open as she goes, and Pels hears the door to her room close with a soft thunk moments later. It’s not long after that when the front door opens with a creak and closes with a loud thud. Peter’s SUV starts with a rumble and pulls out, too hard and too fast to be safe.
Pels’s shoulders finally relax. “Hey, Cheyenne,” she calls out as she heads towards her sister’s room. “You want something more to eat? Because I’m hungry. Let’s go get something.”
And maybe they’ll bring back something for Mom, because Pels thinks that if she and Cheyenne are still hungry, Mom has to be hungry, too. She’s just as buried as they are, after all.
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Happy Anniversary
NOT MY GIF
Summary: One year on.
Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, descriptions of violence.
Please read here before reading!
Stark!OC x Avengers
Word count: 1393
The Caroline Stark Series Masterlist
It hit Natasha first. The screams that tore from her throat still rang in Caroline’s ears. Fighting to drag her friend from her nightmare, she held her as close as she could until the trashing stopped. Bedsheets soaked with a cold sweat, Stark carried the Romanoff girl away from the scene and set her shivering body down on her own bed. Widow had never spoken about it. But that night she couldn't stop. The fight with Clint; the fall; the brief second of consciousness as her skull caved in before the darkness. Wanda was there in an instant, red mist falling from her finger tips, easing Widow back into a dreamless sleep.
Rhodey was the next to go, Steve hot on his trail. The two seemed to vanish, the Captain and the Colonel taking their places. Sleep was an enemy, besting them both, leaving the two visibly worse for wear in a way that heroes aren’t supposed to look, even to an untrained eye. Throwing themselves into politics and war, they fought desperately and recklessly, as if the warfare would return to them that which they lost.
Pepper tried to hold it together, but it was no secret how she wept when the girls were gone. Mourning not only her husband, but the father of her children, the man who had been by her side for as long as her memory could serve her. It seemed as though she was granted everything she every wished for; but there was a catch, of course - it would never come at once.
Bucky was withdrawn, wracked with guilt. Sam stuck with him, the pair all but sleeping in the gym. Falcon fought to keep Barnes afloat, and they trained and trained and trained until they couldn't keep their eyes open. They'd wake up and do it again. Banner mourned quietly. Dipping into old projects and designs, he remembered fondly, just barely keeping his demons at bay. FRIDAY provided him with updates on the others; as long as he knew they were safe, he knew to let them grieve how they chose to. Clint returned home to his family. Struggling with his new reality, he found refuge in the arms of his wife, keeping a watchful eye on his children. Mourning not only his teammate, but the lives of those he faced during his five years alone.
Nobody noticed the red that seemed to coat the compound. Wanda felt it all. Her teammates bled emotion, it poured from the walls and she felt it all. The Maximoff girl had taken to wandering the halls, eyes looking nowhere in particular as she poured every ounce of energy she had into easing the trauma the building held. Her nights were dreamless, the heavy drowsiness never really lifting from her bones.
Caroline disappeared; access to her lab had been restricted entirely, and she hadn’t been seen for days. Bruises bloomed in violent blues and purples, evidence of her exhaustion getting the best of her as she tried and tried and tried again to fix what was never really broken. Refusing to acknowledge her grief, she worked herself to death and back, ignoring all pleas from the AI to rest.
Peter had shown up, eyes silently begging for comfort. Snatching Morgan up into his arms, the two hid from the darkness that loomed, and they pulled on whatever thread of happiness they could find. When Peter cried, Morgan asked why. Where is everybody? Why are you upset, Petey? He’d explained softly, and the far too well-adjusted girl clung on to him until his tears had calmed.
Sleep brought terror filled images. Flashbacks to a bloodied battlefield riddled trauma filled minds. Recalling every bruise, every life taken, every life lost, every drop of blood spilled on the ruins of their home. Sacrifice. The word means nothing to them. A whole universe, moving on and healing. At what cost? A small price to pay, they said. A mantra they’d adopted after the Battle of Earth.
How many had they buried? What about the ones who died as a result of the snap, but not in it? What about the parentless children and the childless parents? How many of them had to die for the rest of the world to be safe?
-
After a week, it changed. Banner had found Natasha and Wanda curled up together on the sofa of the common room. A movie played quietly, as not to disturb the others. Dropping his lab coat on the back of a chair, he joined them. No words were exchanged, but snacks were shared, and soft smiles appeared. It didn't take long for Sam and Bucky to find them, gracelessly plonking themselves down around their teammates. Their bodies were stiff and screaming for rest, and upon seeing their friends again, they gave in.
The movie finished, but nobody dared to move. It felt fragile. As if it wasn’t quite real, and the slightest of movements could scare them all back into hiding. It wasn't until they heard the familiar sound of a landing Quinjet that they moved. As if moving as one, the heroes shuffled their way over to greet the incoming. The stoic Captain stepped off the jet first, followed by an even icier Colonel. Creeping forward, Wanda approached the two with abandon. Taking their hands in hers, she began to walk them back over to the waiting team. As the mist poured from her fingertips, it seemed to wrap around their hands, winding up the soldiers' arms. Their demeanours softened, and they allowed the girl to pull them along with her.
They understood now; this game they were playing. Waiting, as if setting a trap for the others. They waited and waited. Movies continued to play, the volume increasing to lure the remaining out of the darkness. The silence seemed to die down, soft words exchanged between the gathered. A discussion about a family meal that evening. Debating who would cook. Rhodey’s useless in the kitchen, but nobody is as bad as Natasha, they said. Bucky can cook! Wanda can definitely cook! Wait, wait, wait...Bucky can cook? A faux angry glare and a smile silenced that issue.
A loud crash and the clanging of metal stole their attention, the movie once again being forgotten. Pained groans could be heard, followed by the shrieking laughter of a Stark up to no good. Tiny footsteps grew louder, and before long she stood in front of them. Eyes wide and French plaits falling out messily around her face, Morgan greeted her aunties and uncles with a smile before sitting on the sofa and playing innocent. Peter suddenly rounded the corner, lungs screaming for air and the looked of a seasoned big brother on his face. No explanation was provided, Peter merely caught his breath and lifted the girl on to his knee, where they settled down with the rest of the team.
-
Hours has passed and there seemed to be no sign of Pepper nor Caroline until the door swung open, the former demanding that somebody tend to her daughters’ injuries. With a split lip and a chipped chin, Caroline seemed to have taken more of a beating than the rest of the team combined. Sitting her down at the table, Bucky and Natasha pulled out a first aid kit to clean the girl up. The bruise on her temple was a cause for concern, the supersoldier scolded her for being so careless.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, Wanda set down four large dishes of lasagne on the table. The supersoldiers all but lunged for a plate, shovelling the pasta onto their plates as if it was their last meal. Bruce served drinks, and Sam handed out some cutlery. Of course, the food was delicious. Wanda was very talented, and Bucky knew his way around a kitchen from way back when, taking on the responsibility of cooking when Steve was too sick. They made a good team, everyone agreed.
Grief lessened her grip on the compound, and whilst they knew she’d return, they took notice of what they had. As they sat in the kitchen, a slow but sure progress appearing, they each realised that this is how they’d heal; together. Because through everything; through war and torture and loss and weakness, this was the constant they could cling to.
#marvel#mcu#avengers#tony stark#iron man#caroline stark#steve rogers#bucky barnes angst#natasha romanoff#bruce banner#clint barton#james rhodes#wanda maximoff#pepper potts#peter parker#morgan stark#angst#mourning#rip tony stark#Stark!oc#stark!ofc#the caroline stark series#one year on#happy anniversary
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@sarahreeese here’s your reesker prompt! merry christmas!
She’s sitting on Sarah’s lounge chair. Her feet up casually on the end. Her long milky-colored legs are hypnotizing. She’s a painting, she’s a masterpiece. But who hung it? How the hell did she get in Sarah’s apartment?
“The fruit really is better here,” Ava takes a deep bite into her peach.
Sarah’s peach.
“Dr. Bekker?...uh, what, how-what are you doing in my house?”
She went back to the peach, it was true, they really were better down here. The sweetness clean after each bite.
“I heard the weather was similar here as in Pretoria.”
Sarah casually threw her bag in her armchair, still not taking her eyes off the painting in front of her. She knew very little about Ava. A talented surgeon who often butted heads with Connor. Sarah could relate. His ego and sway in the hospital was one of many reasons Sarah had to go. Her fathers were the first.
“That doesn’t answer why or how you got in here.”
Sarah’s moving to the kitchen. Ava rolls her eyes and goes back to her peach.
“I admire the move Dr. Reese, what an adventure! Oh, and the hair.”
Sarah puts a few curls behind her ears, the ones that always fall in front of her eyes. Her long curly bob makes sense for the hot Texas weather but the observation makes her blush. As does the perplexity of this uninvited visit. Ava’s so high on her ego she isn’t paying attention to Sarah, who’s in her kitchen plugging up her dead phone. She’s going to call the police. This behavior is a deviation of the norm. A social violation. She begins to make some iced tea. Ava is still enjoying her peach. Sarah walks to the living room and sits. Her long legs crossing under her flowing skirt. Her presence is enough for Ava to actually pay attention. Sarah isn’t the unsure resident anymore, the woman sitting across from Dr. Bekker feels formidable and her curiosity isn’t satiated by a so called “adventure” explanation. The rube she was hoping for doesn’t live in Texas. Ava rolls her eyes again.
“Fine, I had a bit of a falling out with Connor, I don’t think Gaffney is where I belong.”
Still not pleased. Fuck.
“Everyone is so loyal there, turns out Connor has a few more allies than I do...I know you left too, men can be so disappointing amirite?”
Ava giggles nervously at the end. Sarah’s gaze is unnerving, one she never gave much attention to. Obsession will do that, all Ava ever saw was Connor, Sarah was one of the only memories of anyone she could recall, someone who didn’t seem like a such a goody-goody...and then there was the subject of her parentage.
“Why are you here?”
Dammit.
“Haven’t you ever wanted to get away from a place where your name is sullied?”
Now Sarah is rolling her eyes. She goes to the kitchen and slices a few lemons. The tea has steep long enough. She fills two glasses full of ice, freshly brewed tea, and garnishes it with lemon. Her phone is at five percent, she’s left her good charger at work.
“Dr.Bekker-.”
“-Ava.”
“Ava, why are you here? In my apartment? How’d you get in here?”
Ava looks down at the nut from her peach.
“And don’t tell me it’s because ‘the froot is so much betta heyre.’”
Her mouth is agape at Sarah’s impression of her, but then she smiles and so does Sarah.
“You didn’t talk past me like Connor was the only one capable of surgery, everyone else did...I didn’t make very many friends when I was in Chicago.”
Sarah’s raises an eyebrow. Bitch.
“Fine, I didn’t make any friends other than Connor.”
“How did you get in here?”
“The building manager, I told him you were my girlfriend and if he just let me in I’d tape us and let him watch.”
Now they both are laughing. He’s fired. Between his butt-crack showing, his bad breath tainted with chew, and his constant unwanted advances, Sarah has had it. She’s pretty sure he messes with the hot water heater so she’ll have to deal with him.
“I admire what you did, I mean that, you left and didn’t look back and I want that too.”
Sarah knows it isn’t the entire truth but it’s enough, the details aren’t her business. Sarah’s phone is still too low to turn on and she’s getting hungry. She pulls a pot out to begin boiling water, her eyes periodically on Ava who is doing something strange. She hasn’t looked at her phone once. She wasn’t reading anything on it and she hasn’t checked to see if she’s missing any calls or texts. Sarah knows it’s the part of the details she hasn’t gotten.
“Who are you avoiding?” Sarah asks as she sets a plate of pasta in front of Ava.
“People are so boring, is there really any other way to deal with them other than to avoid them?”
Fair enough. Sarah’s phone is at twenty-five percent. She could make the call but she keeps catching herself staring at Ava’s long neck, the way she licks her lips after slurping up her noodles, the lure of her hazel eyes which seem to have the same curious gaze as Sarah’s upon her.
“She did make that girl-on-girl joke.”
Sarah allows Ava to tag along on her plans. She was planning a walk along the lake and then grabbing a bottle of wine before tucking in a movie. Ava has other ideas. She tells Sarah to leave the bottle in the car and soon they are at Pegasus. Does Ava know? Sarah’s been visiting a few of these places lately.
“I’ve decided I’m done with men, you with me?”
Ava’s invitation is more than enticing, it’s how Sarah’s been living her life here in Waco. They walk up and hand their I.D. to the doorman and Sarah gets an eyeful of Ava’s and realizes for the first time what seems different about her. Ava’s hair is brown but her I.D. is blond. Immediately the bartendar who looks too gay to function recognizes Sarah. He starts with her favorite mix drink and gives her a look at the woman to her side. Sarah blushes a little as Ava orders two shots and a glass of whiskey.
“Oh, no I’m good.”
Sarah is frowning at the drink,she isn’t a shot girl.
“Come now, don’t make me drink these alone.”
The shots go down easy and energize Sarah to the dance floor. She’s a better dancer than Ava would think. She can find a beat, and Ava can’t help but pull her towards her. Their thighs meet as they gyrate. Her stare is more intense than a minute ago. What does she want from her?
“I have to work in the morning!”
Sarah yells over the music so they grab a Lyft home leaving Sarah’s Prius at the bar.
When they open the door Ava is pulling Sarah in to kiss her. Her lips are so soft. Ava seems prickly but her skin, her lips, they’re soft. Sarah pulls away.
“You can take the couch if you need somewhere to crash.”
She’s not going to let Ava sleep her way to a bed. Besides, no matter how nice the day has been Sarah can’t shake those hidden details of Ava’s impromptu visit.
“Do you really want to end the night this way?”
Ava leans in for another kiss and Sarah kisses her back. But it is. She has trust issues.
“I can’t.”
Ava huffs as Sarah opens her linen closet and pulls out a couple of blankets. She tosses them Ava’s way. They lay awake on opposite walls. Sarah wondering how the energy of her little apartment has been thrown off by the stranger in the other room. Ava is wondering how long she can keep her secret.
Sarah is making coffee, her movements wake Ava who follows suit and is in the shower. There’s a loud shriek coming from the bathroom.
“Ah, it’s cold!”
“Oh, yeah give me a second!”
Sarah sets off down the hall to the building manager’s office. The knob twists but the door won’t open. Sarah pushes at it using minimal strength to no avail so she has to bust at it using her shoulder.
“Damn! Tony, where are you, what’s going on with the door?” she started as she walks towards his office, “The wa-.”
She’s stopped in her tracks. Tony is sitting in his chair but he’s not moving, he’s so stiff. His eyes are still open, they are somewhat opaque. He’s not there. Her hand quickly goes to her mouth, poor Tony.
Sarah’s heads back to her apartment, she’s somewhat dazed. She’s seen dead bodies before but on her terf, her time. Not like this. She grabs her cell phone.
“Sarah?”
Ava is out of the shower, obviously cut short because of the temperature. Sarah’s already dialed 911.
“I don’t know why I didn’t use the office phone,” she says to Ava, “-Yes, I’m here, there’s a man downstairs, my building super... he’s dead…-yeah, no-my name is Dr. Sarah Reese, trust me he’s dead.”
Sarah hangs up the phone and turns to talk to Ava, who is packing her things, quickly.
“-What are you doing?” Sarah asks, “You might need to stay to give them a timeline, he looks like he’s been dead a while.”
Ava isn’t listening she’s piling her things in.
“You have a medical background, between you and the coroner I don’t see how I’m going to be helpful.”
“You spoke with him earlier you may have been the last-.”
Sarah stops. Deviation from societal norms. Ava is zipping up her bag.
“Why did you dye your hair?”
Ava is putting on her shoes, she’s in flight mode. Sarah can hear the dispatch on the other line.
“I’m still here, send a patrol too.”
That stops Ava. She stands up.
“Just give me 20 minutes to get ahead.”
She plows past Sarah and is running down the hallway. Sarah is still too shell-shocked; confused. Ava doesn’t need twenty minutes, the police and EMT’s arrive in thirty. It’s not like it’s an emergency.
“Just to confirm she’s about 5-7 or 5’8, 120lbs hazel eyes and blonde hair?”
“Yes, blonde.”
Why did she lie? She doesn’t know the cause of death for Tony and this is just stupid. But she holds to the statement, goes to work and goes back to her life.
She takes her normal Thursday night stroll on the lake. She lets a few ashes go at a time. They are the ashes of the newspapers of her father’s case, the missing posters, and blurbs of his victims. She lets those pieces go here.
“What do you drop in there?”
The unmistakable accent, her voice. Sarah’s heart is racing. What is she doing here?
“What are you doing here Ava?”
Sarah is trying to hide her fear. She knows now what Ava’s done. To Cornelius and probably Tony too.
“I told you I like it here.”
She takes a step toward Sarah and Sarah takes a step backward.
“Dr. Reese, you’re not afraid of me are you?”
Sarah takes a step forward. She’s doing her best to hide her fear.
“No, you don’t scare me Ava.”
Ava takes a step closer, her face inches from Sarah as she smiles. She lets Ava kiss her, she wants to kiss her. She wants to remember her lips. Their night dancing and drinking.
“Come with me,” Ava breathes.
“I can’t, you’re a fugitive Ava.”
Ava steps back, her brown hair makes her eye color sing, it’s a tune Sarah would gladly hum if she hadn’t already sang like a bird to the police.
“What is it about you?” Ava wonders as she studies Sarah’s face.
“I’m still finding that out,” Sarah answers.
Ava steps back again and is quickly gone.
A postcard once every few months from Oklahoma, California, Alaska, London. Always the same message.
“Come with me.”
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act your age: [4] Freeze Your Brain
Chapter Summary: Ash doesn’t go to school the Monday after the fight, and so John comes to check up on her.
Word Count: 1943 | [act your age masterpost]
the heathers: @brian-may-brian-may @marvelismylifffe @whoschantel @peteyparkersbabyy @cosmicsskies @somefanfic-to-love @happy-at-home @youngpastafanmug
[message me to be added xx]
Ash doesn’t go to school on Monday, still nursing considerable bruises on both her face and ego. Oscar doesn’t say anything, lets her keep to herself for most of the rest of the weekend, and leaves instructions for her to make pasta when he goes to study with Freddie on Monday night.
“Dad?” Oscar calls to his father’s study where he knows the man is sitting, probably smoking and drinking, maybe reading or writing. After a day of teaching at the local university, he always claimed to need space and time to himself, though it was the same on weekends too. He didn’t know how to take care of children back when he was still married, and he certainly doesn’t know now. Maybe Oscar would be resentful if he hadn’t had Ash to rely on.
“Boy,” their father responds flatly, barely an acknowledgement. Oscar’s pretty sure the man doesn’t even know his name anymore.
“I’m going out; I’ve left instructions for dinner with Ash and there should be enough for you if you want some.”
“Good that.”
Since his divorce, the only thing he’d been interested in was his work; maybe Oscar and Ash looked too much like their mother, but the man was never able to admit than, was barely able to speak more than two sentences to them. It had been a shock to him that Oscar had wanted to come with him to England at all, and Ash goes where Oscar goes, so he’d been stuck with two kids who he’d quietly hoped would stay in Scotland. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.
Ash is halfway through cooking the pasta when there comes a knock at the door, which she hadn’t expected.
“Dad, is anyone coming over tonight?” She calls, leaving the pasta boiling away for the moment.
Back in Scotland, he’d have colleagues over to for drinks on occasion, squirreling themselves away in his expensive study that Ash was never allowed in. Though it had been almost six months, for the barest moment she felt a tingle of anticipation as she once had, looking forward to being able to see August, one of her father’s colleagues who’d always doted upon her. Though he’d gone cold on her in the few months prior to her moving, part of her still misses seeing him, even if he and Oscar never got along.
So it comes as a surprise, after her father had told her that he wasn’t expecting anyone, and Ash asks who it is, to hear a surprisingly familiar voice at the door, apologising.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have dropped in unannounced,” John’s rambling, standing in the doorway, wringing his hands. It’s dark out, almost seven, and he’s wearing a uniform boasting the name of the coffee shop a few blocks away that Oscar had mentioned wanting to check out.
“Everything okay?” Ash’s first instinct is concern, because why would John Deacon be on her doorstep on a Monday night? When he looks at her, she sees that same concern mirrored on his face.
“Oh Christ, Ash are you alright?” He counters with, eyes searching her face, taking in the details of the dark purple bruising around her nose and eyes.
“I’m fine, John, what are you doing here?” Ash asks, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in. He’s got his backpack on his shoulder and is fidgeting nervously in her foyer.
“I - the band was worried about you, and you didn’t show up for school.” John tells her, by way of explanation, and Ash frowns at that, walking through to the kitchen to check her dinner. John follows close on her heels, still looking uncomfortable and nervous.
“How would you -” Ash starts, before letting out a sigh, “Roger.” Stirring the pasta, she casts her gaze to where John had sat himself at the kitchen island, his fingers tapping the counter, watching her. “You guys don’t need to worry, honestly, I’m fine. How did you find my house?”
“I asked Oscar - actually, I messaged you, but you didn’t respond.” He paused, “again, really sorry, it’s just I was - Roger was concerned.” He conceded, and Ash made a derisive noise under her breath.
“Why didn’t he come over then?”
John makes an amused noise at that, and okay, they both know it might kill Roger to admit that he genuinely cares about her, so she’ll stop asking John why he’s here, and just accept that he is.
“Did you hear he got in?” John asks, tone turning bright, and Ash snorted, nodding.
“Got a message at lunch, but he didn’t tell me what he got,” she explained, tapping the water from her fork before she put a lid on the pasta and left it to simmer, “alright Deaks, fill me in, what’s the cast look like?”
“Chaotic,” John said with a conspiratorial smile, “Rog and that kid Joe-”
“John, he’s older than you,” Ash laughed a little, leaning on the kitchen island across from him, before a thought occurred to her, “hey, did you want dinner?”
“You don’t need to-”
“It’s no trouble, I’m cooking enough for a family, it’s not like me and dad could eat it all ourselves,” she laughed, “it’s not much, just some cheesy pasta, but you’re welcome to if you want.”
“I should text my mum then, if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble,” John hesitates, and she assures him that it’s not.
Over dinner he explains that Gizelle would be playing the lead, and that Roger and Joe would be playing the two jocks, which amused Ash endlessly.
“Christ, Ashley, what happened to you? Who is this?” When her father comes out to collect his dinner, Ash’s mood sobers considerably from where she’d been laughing loud enough for it to echo through the house. John frowns a little, watching her gaze drop to her bowl.
“Nothing, dad, I tripped going down the stairs at school today is all,” she lied easily, playing with her food, “this is John, he’s in that band that Oz is fond of, we go to school together, he was making sure I was okay.”
"Told the boy that school is shit; you would have been better off back home.” He serves himself pasta and absconds back to his study, leaving only an uncomfortable silence in his wake.
“Is this the first time he’s seen you since-”
Ash shushes John loudly, looking awkward and uncomfortable, like she doesn’t want to talk about it, and with her father gone, she stuffs her mouth full of pasta to avoid talking, if only for a moment.
“Sorry, what were you saying about, about the play?” She asks, abruptly changing the subject, and she looks him in the eyes, refuses to look away, as if daring him to ask about what just went down. He doesn’t.
“I’m doing sound for it,” John says quietly, visibly uncomfortable, but Ash brightens, perhaps to overcompensate for her own discomfort.
“Really? I thought you weren’t interested in being a part of it?”
“I mean, I think I am,” John shifted, though he was beginning to perk up, “the guidance councilor saw me looking at it, and I guess she thought I was, I don’t know, staring wistfully, longingly,” John laughed a little at that, though Ash too was amused by his phrasing, “and she must have said something to that TA, Gwilym, because the next thing I know he’s hunted me down in the engineering room while I’m trying to enjoy my lunch, and he’s telling me that there’s ‘always room for crew’.”
“And you just said yes?”
“I mean,” John avoided her gaze, though he couldn’t avoid smiling, “it means I get to spend more time with Geeg.” And he sounds so honestly fond that Ash doesn’t quite know what to say. Faced with her silent confusion, John starts turning pink, “we work together. We’re friends.” He explains quickly. He is fully aware that she doesn’t seem like the kind of person he’d hang out with, in fact, none of the people he considers close friends seem like his sort of people.
“Well she seems lovely,” Ash finally says, smiling, and John lets out a breath he hadn’t know he’d been holding. “Brimming with talent too, by God.”
“She’s, uh,” John’s still a little pink around the ears, “she’s sort of like my Roger, if you get my meaning.”
“I mean I don’t- oh.” Ash goes wide eyed, and immediately feels her face heating up, because only John Deacon would call her out on her crush in such a roundabout yet obvious way.
John’s watching her, trying to gauge her reaction. He’d been honest with her, even a little vulnerable, and while Ash and Roger were both about as stubborn as a mule regarding their feelings, she wouldn’t deny it. If nothing else, John was almost terrifyingly perceptive.
“She’s lovely,” Ash smiles gently, and John nods, grinning.
“I’ve never told anyone that before,” he murmured quietly, almost to himself, sounding a little pleased, and Ash felt her heart grow warm at his words, the trust he’d put in her.
“Your secret is safe with me.” She gave him a fond smile, reaching out for his now empty plate.
“They’re looking for people for set and costume, if you wanted to be a part of it,” John offers, following her through to the kitchen. Ash hums, rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dish washer.
“It’s like a virus; they’ve infected you, Deaks, you’re just looking for the next person to infect, to drag back to their musical theater lair,” Ash grins at him, and when John tries to protest, Ash waves him off, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”
“I dunno, you’re artistic and stuff, right? I just thought...” He shrugged, and at that, Ash did actually consider.
“Dunno, Deaks, I’ll think about it.”
“You get to watch Roger act like a fool and sing that song about balls-”
“That’s one of his songs?” Ash spluttered, incredulous. “I’m in, fucking sold.” Her eyes were alight with mirth.
John doesn’t stay long after that; his mother comes to pick him up, takes the time to come in and thank Ash for her hospitality. She asks if there’s a parent around, and Ash smiles easily, telling the woman that her father was in his study. With that, his mother thanks Ash again, and John grins, tells her he’ll see her around.
“Doesn’t your friend Gizelle live around here?” Ash hears his mother say as they’re walking down the driveway.
“Yeah, she’s just around the corner.” John confirms.
Huh.
[congrats on getting to sing about ur balls.] Ash sends Roger once she closes the door, and moves into the kitchen, fully intending to put the leftover pasta into tupperware, but her phone goes off before she can even open the cupboard.
[🍆😂] Roger sends back almost immediately, followed by [who told you].
[deaks. im fine btw.] And she’s worried for a second that it sounds passive agressive, or malicious, before her phone buzzes again.
[what a traitor 😂 i wanted to tell you myself] followed by a surprisingly sincere [and im glad] and then [😊💙] and she can’t begin to fathom what that means, just focusing on the fact that he does care about her, that he wanted to tell her about being in the musical, and that thought alone has her grinning like a fool.
She’s still smiling about it when Oscar comes home, and though she won’t tell him why, because he’s firmly in the camp of ‘just tell him already’, he’s seems to be just happy that she’s happy again.
#roger taylor#roger taylor imagine#john deacon#john deacon imagine#john deacon x oc#roger taylor x oc#borhap#borhap imagine#bohemian rhapsody#bohemian rhapsody imagine#queen#queen imagine#freddie mercury#act your age#heathers#heathersrelated#heathers warning#the angry lizard writes
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They
A/N: I wrote this after “She” aired and debated about sharing it. It’s been a bit since I was on the NCIS train but after watching “Daughters” last night it just feels right. Enjoy.
Tony opened the front door and dropped his bag. “Hello?” he called. “Anybody home?”
He walked down the front hall, stepping around a pile of blocks and over a stuffed bear. “Ziva?”
“Grrrrr!!!”
A three-foot tall monster jumped on his back and wrapped its arms around his neck. “Ahhhh!!” Tony yelled, staggering with exaggerated movements down the rest of the hall and into the living room where he fell to the floor as dramatically as possible, careful not to crush the tiny person attached to him.
“I got you!” her little voice said with delight as she pounced on his chest.
“You got me,” Tony admitted. “You’ve been spending too much time with your mother. You can take the girl out of Mossad, but you can’t take the Mossad out of the girl.”
“Don’t say that in front of her,” Ziva said in French as she breezed through the room on the way to the kitchen. “Tali, tell Abba about school today.”
“I painted a picture of a cat,” Tali told him in English.
“A cat?” Tony asked, widening his eyes to look suitably impressed. “What color?”
“Purple!”
“A purple cat? Well this I have to see.”
“I’ll get it!”
Tony grunted as she jabbed her knee into his stomach in her haste to jump off of him. He got to his feet and made his way to Ziva, sliding his arms around her waist. “I missed you,” he said as he buried his face in her hair.
“I missed you too,” she said as Tali came barreling back into the room. “How was Berlin?”
“Not the same without you.”
“Here!” Tali climbed up on the counter and thrust the picture into his face. “Look!”
A purple blob that resembled a Teletubby more than a cat took up most of the paper, which still seemed to be wet. “That is…something,” Tony said. “I think you have your mother’s talent for art too.”
“Be nice to her,” Ziva admonished as she began pulling out things for dinner. “Do you want pasta?”
“I do,” he told her. His eyes flicked to Tali who was playing with a doll while sitting on the counter. “I heard from Tim today.”
He’d called his friend back as soon as he’d gotten his voicemail. McGee had sounded upset, which made sense considering that memories of his “dead” friend had just rocked the whole team. Tony had felt, not for the first time, a stab of guilt over their secret.
“Oh?” Ziva added water to the pot. “How is he?”
“He had a question about a case.”
“A new one?”
“An old one.”
She stopped and glared at him. “Spit it up Tony. What’s going on?”
He didn’t correct her. “The Morgan Burke case.”
He watched her carefully, but as usual she was unreadable. “Tali,” she switched to Hebrew. “Go play in your room.”
“I don’t want to,” Tali said.
“Go!” Ziva’s voice was uncharacteristically sharp toward her daughter.
Tali frowned at her, but took her doll and left the room. “Ziva?” Tony asked.
“I--” she shook her head, trying to get her bearings, “did they find out who did it?”
He avoided her question. “McGee seemed to think you might know something about it. Ziva what’s going on?”
She looked shaken and she sank down onto a barstool, her hand still clutching the peppermill she’d been using. “You don’t remember that case?”
“Kind of. A suicide right?”
“No,” she said forcefully. “It wasn’t. It was murder Tony.” She gripped the edge of the counter. “She was eighteen. She was pregnant.” Ziva’s eyes flicked toward Tali’s room. “It was our responsibility to find out what happened and I…I made a mistake.”
“You handed over the case,” Tony said, now remembering a few more of the details. No wonder she was so flustered.
Her face was pained. “If I had not done that, if I had listened to my instincts, perhaps her mother would not have died without facing her daughter’s killer.”
Tony couldn’t let her suffer any longer. “Ziva, they think she’s alive.”
Her eyes found his. “What?”
“Morgan has a daughter. They found her hiding in a storage closet. They’re trying to find Morgan.”
“A daughter?” Ziva’s words were a whisper. “Are they sure?”
“DNA confirms it.”
“But her body…”
“It wasn’t her.” Tony looked at her closely. “Why is this case bothering you so much?”
Her eyes were full of a sadness he’d hoped never to see again. Their little home in Paris was peace. They’d both ensured that Tali would grow up knowing nothing else. Tony almost wished he hadn’t said anything. NCIS was a part of their history, but it seemed it wasn’t content to stay there. “There is something I have to tell you,” she said.
He listened while her secrets spilled out. Secrets she’d kept for fourteen years. From him, from Gibbs, from everyone. Notebooks full of feelings and facts. A hideaway where she could truly be herself.
“Well I always knew you were a woman of many mysteries,” he said quietly when she’d finished.
“I’m sorry Tony. I should have told you.”
He shook his head. “I’m not upset. I’m just sorry you felt like you had to hide that part of you.”
“I really hadn’t thought about it in so long,” Ziva said. “I made that last payment before…” she let the sentence hang. “And I haven’t thought of it since.”
“Why tell me now? There’s nothing to say Gibbs will track down your little hidey hole.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and he smiled. “What am I saying? It’s Gibbs. They’ll find it.”
“Tony.”
The way she was looking at him he knew what was coming next. He felt his gut clench.“Ziva you can’t.”
“I have to.”
“It’s not safe. What if someone sees you?”
“I will be very careful,” she said breezily getting up to continue cooking dinner.
He watched her and then shook his head incredulously. “You���re a little excited about this.”
“Of course not Tony, this is a woman’s life,” she snapped as she began chopping an onion.
“Ziva David, I know you inside and out,” he said. “You’ve said you’re out of the game. That you don’t want to be chasing bad guys anymore. But part of you is hoping that you’ll get to take this guy down.”
“Fine,” she said. “Maybe a little. But it is mostly about clearing my conscience! And keeping the promise I made to Morgan’s mother.”
“What if I go with you?”
“You can’t. You have to stay here with Tali.”
They’d never left her with anyone other than her teachers at school. Their fear was too great and she was too precious. But he didn’t relish the thought of Ziva putting herself in danger like this alone.
“You’ll be careful?” he asked.
She brandished her knife, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “I am always careful Tony.”
As he held her in their bed that night she slept soundly while he stared at the ceiling. They’d worked so hard to make a new life for themselves. He didn’t regret telling Ziva about the case, but he couldn’t shake the fear that he might be losing her again.
Leaving her daughter for the second time in her life felt almost more terrible than the first. Tali had clung to her, crying until Tony pried her away. She’d been too young to fully remember the last time they’d been separated, but it seemed the feeling of trauma had persisted despite their best efforts.
Tony had been uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes serious. “Promise me you’ll come home,” he’d said as she walked to the door.
“I promise,” she’d told him.
Now she was on a plane, flying toward the place that had been home once upon a time. It felt unreal. She’d never expected to be in D.C. again. That life was gone, she’d made sure of it when she’d sacrificed her freedom so Tali could be safe.
She felt bumblebees, no, Tony said it was butterflies, in her stomach as the plane touched down. The last time she’d been here…
She shook her head. She would not let the memories take over. She was here to do one thing. She would focus on that and not let the past become the present.
Checking into the hotel was easy enough and once she reached her room she sent Tony a text letting him know all was well. He sent back a picture of Tali playing with her dollhouse and Ziva smiled.
Her next step was to turn on her laptop and search for news about the case. Gibbs and the team would be tight lipped as usual, but fortunately the local PD who’d originally investigated didn’t appear to have the same scruples. She spent a little time digging and then grabbed her bag. It was time to go visit the past.
It was quiet as she approached her little hideaway. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, taking a deep breath. She’d never thought she would see this place again.
Stepping inside she breathed in its familiar, piney scent. Her scarf and coat were where she’d left them the day she’d turned her back on her family and begun a journey to find herself. She held the scarf in her hands, running her fingers over the stitching. Just being here felt like she was drowning in memories.
She set the scarf down and moved to the cabinets. “Just do it,” she muttered to herself as her hands lingered on the latch. Pulling open the doors she felt her heart stop. They were empty. Frantically she moved to the second and third and found the same thing. Where could they have gone? She needed at least the one on the Burke case if she was going to keep her promise.
Sinking down into a chair she tried to think. If someone had broken in, why would they have taken the journals and nothing else? She had weapons and cash stashed here as well and a quick check told her they were still in place. Who would take the journals but leave the valuables?
Realization dawned and she almost smiled. Gibbs. He would only care about what she’d written, not about what she’d stored for emergencies. Things had just gotten more complicated. She would have to break into Gibbs’ home.
Picking the lock was easy enough. Gibbs apparently still wasn’t concerned about security.
There was something calming about finding his home the same as when she’d left. Her journals were lying on the coffee table in the living room and even though she knew she needed to be quick, she couldn’t resist walking through the house.
Her walk led her into the basement where the familiar smell of wood shavings and varnish filled the air. A bottle of bourbon sat on the workbench, a half finished project taking up the middle of the space. She ran her hands over the smooth wood. She could feel Gibbs in this space and the urge to cry for what she’d lost was nearly overwhelming. The guilt she felt over hiding from him was nearly as painful as lying to Tony about Tali had been. It wasn’t right, but it was safer this way for all of them.
She turned to walk up the stairs when something caught her eye. On the corner of one of the shelves was a picture of the whole team. She picked it up, staring at the smiling faces, frozen in time. They’d loved her, cared for her, and she’d broken them. Her peace had cost them all so much, something for which she would be forever sorry.
A car alarm outside brought her back to herself and she put the picture back, hurrying up the stairs. She couldn’t take the journals, Gibbs would get suspicious. But if she just took the one page she needed, there was a chance they might not notice.
Searching through the stack she found the book she was looking for and ripped the letter from the last page. A car pulled up and Ziva felt a jolt of panic. Gibbs was home.
She tucked the page into her pocket and slipped through the house. She could escape out the back door and he would be none the wiser.
She heard the front door open just as she clicked the latch into place. She needed to go but found herself rooted to the spot. There had been no real goodbye, no closure for either of them. She wanted to see him, just one last time.
Ducking into the brush she waited and then sucked in a breath as she caught a glimpse of him through the window. He looked older, tired, and sad. A sadness she was certain she was at least partly responsible for.
His eyes drifted outside and for one, heart stopping moment, she thought he’d seen her. But then he turned and walked away and she moved quickly toward her rental car. It was time to finish this.
She walked through the hospital, avoiding the cameras as best as possible. It wasn’t hard to find the correct room; it was the only one with a police officer waiting outside.
Quietly she slipped into the staff locker room and searched through several lockers until she found a pair of scrubs. Grabbing a clipboard off the nurse’s station she walked authoritatively toward the room. “I’m doing his six o’clock check,” she told the officer, affecting her best American accent.
He stepped aside, allowing her access. She mentally rolled her eyes. Robert Hill had held a woman and her child captive for nine years and he was letting just anyone into the room? It was lax behavior even if tonight it eased her mission.
He was lying in bed, his eyes closed. Ziva kicked the corner of it with her foot. “Wake up,” she said tersely.
His squinted up at her. “Water?”
“No,” Ziva said coldly.
He eyed her closely. “You’re not a nurse.”
“Who I am is not important,” she said. “You deserve to rot in hell for the way that you have destroyed this family. You ripped a child from her mother. You ripped a baby from her father. You are scum and I am going to make sure that every, single miserable day you have left on this earth, you are tortured with regret for what you’ve done.”
“Nurse!” he yelled, but Ziva whipped out a scalpel and pressed the tip to his side under the blankets as the officer entered the room.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Our patient is having some discomfort. I’ll take care of it,” Ziva told him sweetly.
He nodded and took his leave. Ziva turned ice filled eyes to Robert. “Do that again, and I will make sure you leave this hospital missing some vital organs.”
He looked scared and Ziva felt a sense of pleasure watching it. Tony had been right; there was a part of her that missed this. “I have something to read to you. And you are going to listen and remember.
She read the letter Morgan’s mother had dictated, speaking the words with the quiet sense of agony with which they’d been spoken to her. When she was done he looked the same, not a single ounce of regret in his eyes, but she felt a sense of peace. It was done. She’d kept her promise.
“I—“ he started to speak but she pressed the scalpel more firmly into his flesh and leaned close to whisper in his ear. “Until the day you die, you will remember my face. You will remember what you have done. I will haunt your waking hours and your dreams alike. When you close your eyes you will think of me and you will remember that as much as you have hurt this family, I would hurt you so much more without hesitation.”
She gave him a final jab and then walked out of the room. “He is settled,” she told the officer.
And so was she.
It was risky, but she needed to stop by the cabin again. Gibbs’ team was savvy; if she didn’t cover her tracks somehow, beg for secrecy, nothing would stop them from coming to find her.
The note was written on a spare piece of paper. She chose her words carefully, deliberately. And then she took one last look, tempted to take the coat with her. She’d always loved that coat and it pained her a bit to leave it behind. But it was part of her past, and she’d shed all those things years ago. There was no point in inviting it back in now.
She went immediately to the airport. She’d promised Tony she would leave as soon as the work was done and she intended to keep her word. Three hours later she was on a flight headed toward Paris.
Typically it wasn’t difficult for her to sleep on a plane. After completing her work she’d thought this time would be no different. But something gnawed at her stomach, her mind turning over restlessly, making it impossible to drift off.
By the time she reached their apartment she’d worked herself into a bit of a state. She was tired, and frustrated, and weary. So incredibly weary.
The apartment was dark and quiet, appropriate for 2:00am. Exhausted, she stripped off her clothing and slipped into bed beside Tony, trying her best not to wake him. But he stirred anyway, his eyes finding hers. “You’re home,” he said a bit groggy.
“I am home,” she said, kissing him.
He threaded his fingers into her hair and pulled her close. “Did you do what you needed to do?”
She nodded against his chest so he could feel it. “Yes. I kept my promise to Morgan’s mother.”
“And to me,” he said.
She nodded again without speaking. She’d thought she’d feel better once she was in his arms, but her heart was still unsettled. “What’s wrong?” he asked, kissing the top of her head.
“Nothing.”
“Ziva…”
“I saw Gibbs,” she whispered.
He pulled back, fully awake now. “Did he see you?”
She shook her head. “No I had to retrieve something from his home. He came back as I was leaving so I watched. He looked sad Tony.”
“He loves you,” Tony said. “You know he loves you.”
“I left because I had to. And then I did what needed to be done to save Tali, to save you. I did it knowing exactly what it would do to the people who cared about me most.” Hot tears filled her eyes.
He caressed her face, smoothing her hair, wiping the tears away. “Ziva, my Ziva, you did the right thing. It was the hard thing. But it was the only choice you had.”
“I know,” she said. “But I am reminded that I am not the only person who lost when I became a ghost. And I wish I didn’t have to hurt him.”
Tony pulled her close and let her cry into his chest. “It’s all right,” he murmured.
Her heart hurt too much. She knew he was right, she’d known the choices she was making, the sacrifices that would have to be given for this life. She’d always lived in lies and secrets, but she’d never thought it would be so painful to keep them.
“It may not always be like this,” Tony said when she had calmed. “There may come a day when we can go back.”
It seemed like an impossibility, something too good to hope for. But then again, she’d never let herself hope for Tony or Tali either. “I just want him to be all right,” she whispered. “He’s lost so much already.”
“He’ll be all right,” Tony said. “He’s got a good team. He’s got McGee. They’ll take care of him. And maybe one day, we can all be a family again. Until then, you’ve got me. And you’ve got Tali. And we’ve got you.”
It wasn’t peace, but it was hope.
#NCIS#Ziva David#Tony DiNozzo#Tiva#Tali#She#They#Fanfic#Ziva Fanfiction#DiNozzo Fanfiction#Season 16#Daughters#Tiva Fanfiction#NCIS Fanfiction#Gibbs
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