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 [M] water bring my body in, @PEGGY CARTER
i know she loves me through thick and thin. current come pull me down. i won't take a breath, i wanna drown.
// 1961 @ peggy
”Schmidt’s down, sir, but the plane’s headed for the Eastern seaboard. There’s enough explosives on board to wipe out the entire coast.”

Dead air. A thin crackle otherwise indicated that they were still reaching headquarters, but Grant knew they would be out of range soon. It was by a hair’s breadth and Peggy’s sheer skill that they had reached Phillips at all. Now, Grant sat at the helm of Schmidt’s monstrous plane—Peggy at his elbow—with no ability to control their horizontal direction whatsoever. It could go up. It could go down. But it just wouldn’t bank.

A burst of static. Phillips’ voice was hard and cold over the line. “Can you dead reckon your location?”

Though they had searched the entire cockpit, Grant’s gaze still slid once more over the controls in search of anything remotely useful to them. Half the panel has been gashed deep by his shield; the plane’s compass and altimeter alike were split in two, tendrils of smoke pulled out by the rush of air from the cracked windscreen.

Even if they had that, they had no map, no landmarks, and no time.

“No, sir. We need to put her down in the water.”

Peggy’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Her jaw was bruising magnificently, a star cluster of green, purple, and blue, and a cut above her left eye was just beginning to knit together; he was sporting a bloody nose and split knuckles, already chapped raw by the icy atmosphere getting in.

“We’re losing the best of the best here. I hope you know that. God damnit, I wish you two had listened.”

It was a touching sentiment from Grant’s commanding officer, from his words to the clear dismay in his voice. It blanketed them both and earned the faintest of sad smiles; a gentle moment in a drastic situation. Technically, Phillips had no purview over Peggy, but they had been slogging through the mud of the European theater together for the last three years. From sardonic disregard to cautious approval, from support and interest to downright amiableness and the trusted bond of a team that knew the ins and outs of each other, they had achieved a lot. They were comrades. And Colonel Phillips was not known to exaggerate. What he said, he meant, and he went all in.

Grant thumbed the radio button again and held it down. He didn’t want Phillips to have to speak again.

“Let the team know they did good, sir. We couldn’t have stopped Schmidt without them.”

“We’re here, Captain.”

Peggy leaned forward, her weight against Grant’s shoulder. They were cheek to cheek now. Her tone, usually so brilliant and confident as to occasionally be blinding, was soft and urgent. “Sir, you’d do well to know that Schmidt lost Hitler’s favor a few months ago. He had been operating under his own directive.” She paused; Grant’s grip on the controls was steady, but he knew she was sure to feel the tremble of his arms as he struggled to keep them on the level.The ship was fighting him now.

She spoke again. “All of you lot.” Grant glanced at her. She was speaking to the Commandos, now. In spite of himself, he grinned. “You’d do well not to muck yourselves up through the rest of this war. If we hear you don’t make it, we will personally arise from the depths and kick you all to hell.”

Grant released the button in time for a burst of laughter to carry to them over the airwaves. Like someone turning the volume knob down on the radio, it faded out into silence, leaving them alone.

Grant surveyed the cloudless, watery landscape ahead. On the edge of the horizon, a patch of white glittered brightly.

“You know,” he said. The controls were shuddering in his hands now. They wanted to lift; he kept having to force it back down. “I still don’t know how to dance.”

He didn’t have to look back to feel Peggy’s smile, but he did, meeting those voluminous brown eyes with his own.

“We’ll go next week,” she said. He reached out and took her hand, intertwining his soot-covered fingers with hers. The white had expanded to fill the entire windscreen now. He squeezed gently; she looked at him. Her lips pursed, but whether she was fighting back laughter or tears, he didn’t know. “How does the Stork Club sound? 8 o’clock?”

“Sounds great.” His voice had taken on a hint of trepidation; he pushed on in spite of that. It was not in Grant’s nature to hide his emotions, to paint a false coat of daring over his fear and call it courage. He was not a man of bravado, but he was brave. With shoulders squared, he would always, always march on, but he would never fault a soul for feeling what he felt. “We’ll have the band play something slow. I’d hate to step on your toes.”

Some silent signal passed between them, then. A quick look, an intake of breath, just a moment of pressure. The water was no longer in sight; just ice. They had to take the ship down now, or not at all.

Grant pushed up on the controls. He had tried the landing gear ages ago; it would not go. This was their only choice.

The nose dipped.

He turned in the seat, and took Peggy’s face in his hands. Her cheeks were warm against his frosted palms; his thumbs ran over her cheekbones. A kiss. Just one, before they plunged into the darkness.

Into the depths.

Their lips met.

A roar. Splintering black, and blasts of lightning. And white. It blossomed and grew, mushrooming into so much emptiness. There was heat—burning—and there was naught. No, worse. There was the cold.

And nothing.


Eyes snapped open. Baby blues looked back and forth, and back and forth again, before focusing on a nondescript point in the ceiling above. Their owner’s jaw worked slightly, then cracked open as an enthusiastic yawn broke free.

The room Grant lay in was pleasantly cool; the bed, pleasantly warm. Square, with big picture windows on two sides, it was currently filling with golden morning light. Gauzy white curtains muted the sunrise, but did not diminish it, and as Grant shifted beneath the covers slightly, he was able to close his eyes and recreate the darkness enough to go back to sleep if he wanted.

Instead, he reached out with his right hand and slowly, slowly—gently now—slid open the bedside drawer.

An arm and leg with porcelain skin, almost translucent in its paleness, was draped across his body. At some point, he had rolled away from his bedmate, and she must have sought him back out in her sleep. He had, in response, slid an arm beneath her head, allowing her a different kind of pillow in the form of his shoulder. They were a tangled heap of limbs and body heat.

Were this 1945…

The era Grant Edwards and Margaret “Peggy” Carter haled from would have frowned wholeheartedly on this little moment. This was one of the great shocks of this modern time; but out of so many he did not, Grant preferred this. Their nighttime rendezvous and little snatches of intimacy, cloaked in the urgency of war and what was expected of them, had forced a closeness in private that could not, by their standards of etiquette, be replicated in public. Grant had always understood this.

He had known, quite early on, what Peggy meant to him. Determined. Vivacious. Astute. Braver than any man he had ever meant. Admiration preceded affection. Affection preceded devotion. After devotion, he had lost sight of what was up and what was down. Could romance exist in the midst of war? It had for them.

When they had gone into the ice, Grant hadn’t had any thoughts of the future. He hadn’t been wondering where the world would be after they had left it. He hadn’t considered the implications of what they had done, or whether the war would end because of it. All he had been thinking about was the woman beside him—then and now—and what they had had. What could have been.

He had been okay with dying, because he had been dying beside her.

Don’t get Grant wrong. The last thing he had ever wanted was for Peggy’s life to end, especially not there, and especially not then. However, in our final hour—knowing it can go no other way—we come to accept the inevitability of our deaths and those we treasure. They had gone into the fray side-by-side; that, in turn, was how they left it.

And then, they had come back. To life, to living, to it. Grant could have kissed the man or woman with the good sense to reach out of the mortal coil and bring them both back in. He had always instinctively comprehended the measure of Peggy’s value: that is, it was immeasurable. However, in their time and age, people had blinded themselves to it. They saw not her, but a woman—weak, frightened, and delicate by nature.

Grant knew the truth. Without her, he could have never molded himself into the man he had been—the man he still was. Without her, he could have never been the Captain. And that was her impact on him alone. The war would have gone very differently if it hadn’t been for Agent Peggy Carter and her determination.

His questing fingers found what they were looking for. From the drawer he withdrew, clutching a little navy blue velvet pouch.

He shook out the contents on his bare chest. She stirred next to him; he stilled until he was certain she was not waking, and picked up the white gold ring.

Six months they had been alive again. Six months of being inundated with all that had changed since their time, with how the world now spun. Today, no one looked twice at two people in love sharing a home, so they had done it. Today, no one wondered why lovebirds would want to share of their souls and their selves before they officially shared their lives on paper, so they had done that, too. They had all the things they had wished for in the war: a house to their selves, privacy to love each other, and a friendship and bond no longer stained with the blood, death, and sickness of armed conflict. They had done it. All of it.

They probably could spend their lives like this, knowing good and well what they meant to each other. But Grant wanted to do this.

An unseen draft ruffled the curtains; Peggy let out a soft little sigh that lifted tendrils of her gently-mussed hair off her face. Her left arm was the one thrown across him; he found her ring finger, and slid the carefully-selected piece of jewelry upon it.

Words danced about in his mouth, but he waited for her to wake before he said them. When sleepy blinks turned to a more focused gaze, he smiled and brushed his lips lightly against her forehead.

You’re my inspiration, Peggy. My will, my bravery, and all my dreams. Let’s finished what we started. Let’s make a new beginning.” He laced the fingers of his left hand with hers, lifting them together so that she could see the gleam of sunlight and sparkling gems. “I love you… and I would like to marry you. Will you do me the honor of saying yes?"
robb stark
you're a force of nature
Peggy had always believed that even in the most hopeless and the most helpless of situations, her fate would always find its way to her. She didn't believe that it would always be the most obvious of things: it wouldn't always come as a flashy uniform carrying a shield... Sometimes it would be as simple as a hot cup of tea within a beautiful winter afternoon. Sometimes that's exactly all that was needed.

It was the small things and the small moments that made up a single life, after all. It was the glances that earned a smile and the smiles that earned a greeting. Greetings drifted into conversations and those conversations had you viewing the world in a way you might never have thought to.

Those conversations, too, could lead to bonds that one wasn't entirely prepared for. Bonds that turned to wants, wants that inspired needs... Ah, how those small things added up.

Small things, Peggy had never taken for granted and it was luckily so for fate hadn't given her a flashy uniform carrying a shield, nor had it given her a hot cup of tea within a beautiful winter morning. No, it had given her quite the opposite: rainy, dreary, muddy days and the skinniest guy that had ever stepped foot onto her training base.

She fell in love, first, with his determination. She couldn't lie and say she had never looked into his file once he had been accepted into her training base... He had wanted this more than any other male that Peggy had seen come and go again. He might not have gone about it conventionally - nor did he go about much of anything conventionally - but it had been that stubborn determination that had pushed him into her own fate's path.

His courage and bravery are what she had fallen for next. Where others would run and hide, Grant would throw himself into the line of fire if it meant sparing a single wound on someone else. He stepped up to the plate without a single question and took every order with more pride than Peggy had ever hoped to see in any of their soldiers.

It was all downhill from there, and she wasn't at all able to stop nor control it. His selflessness, his kind heart, the respect he had for those around him, his smile, his eyes, his hands... And this was all well before the serum had magnified everything about him. After the serum, Peggy was able to see all of the traits she adored most about him being put into play good and properly which was around the time her heart became his rather permanently.

They hadn't had enough other long enough. There hadn't been enough stolen kisses when no one was around in the middle of the day to catch sight of them. There weren't enough intimate nights tucked away where no one would dare search for either of them. He hadn't brushed his hand against hers so subtly that no one even took notice quite enough... They hadn't had enough time together, and yet they had had all the time in the world. More than most people were fortunate enough to experience.

Death had taken them, but they had still been together. Neither had had to live a life without the other, and wasn't that a blessing? Really, it should be counted as one and yet Peggy still felt it to be too bittersweet.

The first few nights in their home - being able to say 'their' home never failed to make her smile - since being pulled back into the land of the living were spent much as her nights back on the training base were. Enjoying the gentle breeze as it blew around her while hoping fatigue would find her long enough to get some shuteye. Her fingers gently stroking the locket she wore around her neck; at one point it had been an empty gift that had reminded her of home. Later, when a photograph had been added within, it became a reminder that she had something to fight for and that he, her love, had someone to return to.

Sleep became a rare commodity during the first couple of weeks. It was only at the mercy of absolute exhaustion that it came at all and even then it was only for a few hours at best. Peggy never stirred about in the bits of sleep that she was able to grasp onto; there was no indication that her mind was still in overdrive and she preferred it that way. Grant needn't lose sleep simply because she was.

More often than not, her brown eyes would be focused on a wall or the ceiling typically after her focus was stuck on a dream she hadn't been able to shake. She dreamy often of being in that plane as it sunk into the icy blue water and much as it had been in reality, Peggy wasn't alone in her dream.

She would watch him. She would see that determination, courage, bravery and selflessness that she had fallen in love with and she would hate him for all of it. She would hate that he couldn't be selfish just this once... That they couldn't be selfish together.

She would struggle. Struggle with whether or not the world was really worth preserving if Grant wasn't living in it. She couldn't imagine a world where he wasn't alive and making it better and safer for everyone. Her entire world consisted of nothing more than him... but was that worth ruining the worlds of so many others? Were they worth that?

Either way, she would fail to save him. Her own life meant nothing; Peggy could come to terms with her own death despite the fact that it meant the two wouldn't be together in any form so long as it meant the world wouldn't take him, too. Grant's death - even if she around to see it for herself - was a heartbreak she didn't want to endure.

She would fail to save herself in failing to save him, and yet the world continued on. Now they continued on, too.

Sleep slowly came easier to the brunette as realizations set in that Grant was truly okay. Perhaps he was having the same thoughts and dreams as she and was struggling to adapt as much as she was, but he was alive and well and that? That was all Peggy had ever hoped for. They were learning things side by side and while that presented more challenges than she cared to admit to, they were having fun in facing them together.

This was their new life now... Together, alone and perfect. There was no one to frown upon a work romance and there was no one to shame them for claiming each other in private before claiming each other on paper. So much had changed to accommodate the romance they had once shared and that was perhaps one of the things about this changed world that she enjoyed the most.

Grant's fixation with the air conditioning was something that had Peggy turning to sweaters and quilts in search of warmth quite frequently. Even in their bedroom, the air was quite cool but beneath the blankets that draped over their bed and against Grant's warm body - and, at times much like now - draped over his body - Peggy didn't meet so much as a single shiver.

It would have been a few hours from the time that that faint golden glow found their bedroom windows that Peggy would typically wake up. Her fingertips tracing over the bare skin of Grant's chest in an effort to wake him, too. As it were, Peggy was still in as deep a sleep as she had been for most of the night until she felt Grant's touch waking her for a change.

It took her eyes a few moments to adjust to the faintest bits of light; a flew sleepy blinks to right her slightly groggy vision. As his lips pressed into her forehead, her eyes closed and it was in that brief second that she wanted to let that lull her right back to sleep but it was his words that pulled her gaze back to his.

Peggy was well beyond certain that there was a curious look on her face as she tried to make sense of where all of this was coming from. There was nothing more that she wanted in this world than to share this new beginning with him, but it was only as his fingers laced through her own and lifted her hand so that the faint light of the sun caught the ring he had placed on her finger that everything pieced itself together.

It wasn't just any touch that had pulled her from her sleep, but rather him placing that very ring onto her finger. It wasn't a piece of jewellery that either had ever discussed in great depth but it was one that had her heart thudding in her chest just as strongly and just as quickly as it had each time she would see him coming back to her each time they had to venture away from each other for whatever length of time. That same relief, excitement...

Those same small moments, much like this, that made up a single life. One they would now share much as they had wanted to from the beginning.

She would deny the tears that stung her eyes as she nodded her head so gently she questioned if he had even taken notice to it as she pressed her lips against his. A kiss that might have lasted longer had that thought not plagued her mind long enough to have her pulling back and biting down on her bottom lip as she realized just how little she had needed to think of her answer.

"Of course I will marry you..."

because baby you're a force of nature
i know she loves me through thick and thin. current come pull me down. i won't take a breath, i wanna drown.
// 1066 @ peggy
Peggy was slow to wake. The arm belonging to the shoulder beneath her head wrapped itself around her, and Grant’s hand began to lazily run up and down her side. With each pass, his fingers grazed the curve of her hip, and his palm felt the steady rise and fall of her ribs. He had so often woke to the light touch of her fingertips, drawing designs on his bare skin, that returning the favor was all but too easy. He liked it this way. He liked to look at her. He liked to feel her at his side. He liked to breathe her in.

In the war, moments like these had been all but stolen. Bombs dropped and comrades fell, but even in the muck and mire and the blood—god, the blood—there were moments. Little touches, quick glances, a word or two gently offered… courting each other was as much a maneuver as anything they had to do on the battlefield. The conventions of the time had restricted them to the highest degree of good manners when around each other in public. In private, however? Well, they found ways.

It was no secret of the flag Grant had carried for Peggy from the very start. That first day at Lehigh, watching her walk back and forth in front of all of the recruits—daring them to see her for any less than she was—he had seen in her both a role model and a kindred spirit. He hadn’t consciously recognized it at the time, of course. Grant, somehow—in an era that looked down upon anyone who wasn’t a white Englishman of good stock and good health—could see people for who they were and not what they were. He could also recognize when someone had been tempered by the heat of that unyielding pressure to conform to what society deemed right of them. Margaret “Peggy” Carter had clearly spent her life transcending all expectations of who she ought to be. She had passed through a gauntlet few would ever know; had walked over hot coals and cloaked herself in the blaze they set.

It was because of this that Grant, in all his clumsy affection, wanted to get to know her. Perhaps more so than he had ever experienced with another person before. But who was he? Just a scrawny kid from Brooklyn who had been denied from the army multiple times because he was an asthmatic, half-deaf, sick-as-a-dog type of guy. He shouldn’t have even been there, let alone someone anyone spared half a glance for.

Then Doctor Erskine (already the bestower of the biggest favor Grant had ever asked of another person) choose him out of dozens of the pre-selected. Everyone was skeptical.; most assumed the procedure would simply kill him at best. No one, it seemed, thought Grant had it in him to make it through this.

Except for Erskine… and Peggy.

In retrospect, Grant was as blind to Peggy’s intentions and feelings as he was blind to risk. He did not see what she saw, but when the time came for the procedure (his or hers, though his was done to much fanfare, while hers was with him, Erskine, and her alone), it was to her he looked… and she was looking back.

So it went with them. Where Grant looked, Peggy was there, looking back. It didn’t matter if it was in a laboratory back in the States, or on the planks of a strategic headquarters in the heart of the European Theatre. When Grant stormed a Division base and P.O.W. camp on his own, it was Peggy who got him there, and who was waiting for him when he—and the hundred plus men he had helped free—marched back.

Even Colonel Philips began to notice that wherever Carter or Edwards was, the other was sure to follow. They were two spiraling planets, hooked on each other’s gravity as they orbited the sun. Even at great distances apart—which sometimes happened, as is the nature of war—they always honed in on each other once the job was done and came running home. Were it any other situation? Philips would have seen an end to immediately. It was dangerous, risky, and sure to backfire; we’ve been telling stories for centuries of the plights of heroes and their battles for their beloveds. But as the commanding officer of Captian America, the nation’s “new hope”, he grunted, hitched up his belt, and let them be. There was little enough joy in the war as it was, and what Carter and Edwards did for for the Allies was complete incomparable. They and their Howling Commandos could and did do the work of an entire unit. Or three. He would be a fool to separate them.

This allowed a bright and vivid relationship to blossom in the stark, dark, and tragic landscape of the world. Those looks turned to talk, and that talk turned to touches. Touches became kisses, and kisses became… well, the army, paradox as it was, both vehemently denied that their well-trained, disciplined soldiers had sex, and readily handed out a wide variety of contraceptives to anyone who looked in the right direction. So, there were nights, when they claimed one another, even though all of society would have looked down upon them for it.

Yes, there were nights. Torrential downpours and heavy snows confined armies to their tents (if they were lucky enough to have one), which meant that one or the other of theirs’ would wind up empty. Some nights it was all conversation and laughter, and card games played with tattered decks. Other nights, they made full use of each other, absconding until next time with each other’s tender touches taken and sweet words whispered, while the tent roof bowed under the weight of whatever weather pardoned them for a little while.

It was beautiful. It was brief. It was a flash of lightning in a darkening sky. And then they went down together, plunging that weaponized behemoth beneath the ice for the sake of several million people and each and every one of their individual lives. They put themselves and their future aside, and acted—as they had acted for the entirety of this terrible, awful, torturous war—for the sake of others. For people they didn’t even, and would never, know.

Internally, they might have had regrets. Grant regretted that Peggy had even been on the plane—that she was to die with him in this sacrifice. He regretted that he had never asked what he was asking now; he knew, without a doubt, that to live out his life with Peggy would always be all he could ever ask for. Do we trust more when forced to rely on one another to keep ourselves alive? Did it matter if that was the case? Grant trusted Peggy in heart, mind, and soul. He had then, and he did now.

He was grateful for this second chance. They might be wanted to, once again, “save the day,” but the SSR plans be damned until he could make right everything that had been wrong when they gave it all for their countries. For the world.

The soft flutter of Peggy’s eyelashes drew his gaze to her face, and he smiled when those brown, tear-sparkled eyes focused on him. He saw the nod. How could he not, what with how he was focusing on every detail, every second, of this moment? There was a sensation of soaring, of falling, and then he was hugging her to him, one hand coiling lazy in her hair for the duration.

Peggy pulled away. Grant brushed a thumb against her cheek, where a tear had fallen, and became quite aware of the way his heart was thudding in his chest. It was so loud, so strong, so fast, that he thought his newfound fiancée would surely feel the way it rattled his ribs; he had not known he was nervous until the act was done, and now a bright flush crept up from chest to collarbone to neck to cheeks.

The laugh he let out was shaky in its execution, but the smile was unmistakable in its clear, transparent joy. He kissed Peggy again, letting go of her hand to cup her face in his hands. “It feels like I’ve been waiting for almost a century to ask that.” That all too familiar mischievous twinkle appeared in shining eyes; he, like, Peggy, felt the sting of tears, but they did not fall—some habits cannot be completely shed, but such was the strength of the emotion he now felt. He felt fit to burst. He wanted to leap out of bed and run in any direction, shouting his elation for anyone and everyone to hear. He wanted to jump on the bed out of happiness. He wanted to carry Peggy into the sunrise, because no other light was comparable to her and her brilliance.

Instead, he rolled onto his side, facing Peggy, and took her hands in his. He pressed his lips to them. To her palms. To her wrists. He could kiss her from fingertips to forehead to toes and back again—hell, he had, many times before, and would do so many times yet. With ducked chin, he looked at her from beneath his brow, a shy smile playing about on his lips. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that yes.
robb stark
you're a force of nature
While many did not think that a single good thing came from those bitter, cruel days of war, Peggy felt safe in her unspoken knowing that that wasn't entirely true. The outcome - for their countries - were phenomenal, of course, but there were things - such small things - that no one seemed to speak much of after the fact.

There were so very few left alive and those that had been spared from an early death were well aged by now. Still, in her months of being thrust back into the world many years after the war, Peggy still prided herself on catching up on as much after the fact as she had before battle. Perhaps it was her need for detail... or maybe it was her obsession with simply knowing all that she could on subjects of immediate interest.

Either way? The questions that were answered by the veterans of World War II and the interviews that they had taken part in upon the end of the war spoke very little of those small things that Peggy clung to. It often had her wondering if perhaps the soldiers were sticking to orders long after their missions were completed, or if they were choosing not to reminisce about the wars they had been exposed to.

Peggy wasn't one to bottle things up; she wasn't one to hide the truth in hopes of sparing someone from seeing something the world would much rather keep hidden. Not many asked, but she was honest about her own times in the war; nothing was sugar-coated. That, of course, included the fact that during those days, weeks, months... she had quickly learned not to take the small things for granted.

It wasn't a concept many understood and Peggy could hardly fault them for that. Not many were faced with the constant realization that it could very well be their last meal, their last laugh, their last breath... Those hadn't been the small things that Peggy refused to take for granted, though.

Falling in love in the middle of a war wasn't something she had ever imagined for herself, but as sure as she was that the sky was blue on a cloudless day, she had done just that and it was because of that very love that she had so much more to lose. His smile. His laugh. His heartbeat... The love she felt for him during their stolen moments together, the worry she felt when she had to see him off on a mission she couldn't join him for. The happiness she felt when he came back to her safe and sound...

He knew her inside and out and that gave her a sense of comfort, security and relief that wasn't easily explained, and while Peggy liked to believe that simply knowing how well he knew her gave her the upper-hand, she was slowly learning for herself that that wasn't necessarily the case.

He had, after all, successfully managed to keep something from her. It wasn't a secret that she would ever scold him for - he hadn't been looking to hurt her, after all - and truth be told? She was a little proud... even if she refused to admit that out loud.

There had never been a doubt that she wanted to spend her life with Grant and this - the ring that she would proudly wear on her left hand - was that very statement that the world would see. It didn't matter that she hadn't known this thought had been lingering in his mind because he loved her just as surely and just as thoroughly as she loved him... and if her answer was any indication? It had obviously been a thought lingering in her own mind, as well.

Her eyes were still on her fiancé - a word she fully intended on abusing - as he rolled over onto his side to better face her. His lips working her hands and her wrists as she tried to control the brightness of her own smile to no avail. There was no dimming this moment...

His lips unoccupied themselves and her smile only seemed to grow as she reached out a hand to allow her thumb to trace over his bottom lip as he spoke. Something she had already memorized by touch many times before but it was all she could do to keep herself from exploring it with her own mouth.

"About half as happy as I am to give you that yes..." Because it was all the times that he had come back to her safely... all the lives he had saved and brought back with him against all possible odds... Every time he had told her that he loved her wrapped up into one perfect moment.

His lack of shirt (which was buttoned incorrectly and loosely hanging from Peggy's own body) allowed her to see the bright flush of his skin that she fell in love with a little more every time she was exposed to it. Always starting by creeping up from his chest to grace his collarbone before moving to mingle along his neck and finally his cheeks. Hardly a slow process nor was it necessarily a rare one, but one of the many things that Peggy loved about Grant nonetheless. There had always been something bashful and vulnerable about it that both led her to adore it and managed to drive her crazy at the same time.

It didn't take her much effort to press against him just enough to roll him onto his back once again. One leg hoisted across his waist that she used to her advantage. She wasn't rough; it was a smooth movement that had her straddling him with one pale, bare thigh on either side of him while her weight rested on her knees.

Her hands trailed over the flushed skin of his chest, feeling the warmth there alongside the pounding of his heart. Maybe it was his nervousness finally breaking - if he had been nervous at all - or maybe it was the elation that she, too, was feeling finally reaching its peak.

All very chaste, she pressed a series of kisses to the short, fine hairs at the nape of his neck. Her hair brushing down over her own shoulders and surely tickling his own bare skin as she did. Much as he had planned on asking her to marry him that morning, Peggy planned on loving him much as she did every morning. This morning, of course, would be different; they now held different titles in each others' lives and for the first time since meeting, everything felt... permanent because they could finally settle down much as they had wanted to all those years ago.

Her mouth had found its way to his earlobe, nibbling ever so softly against it. "I love you..." Her words were nothing short of a warm whisper against his skin as her teeth tugged playfully against his ear. "But you know the rules..." Pulling away from him, Peggy brushed her dark, loose curls back from her face as she bit down on her own bottom lip for the briefest of moments. Her hands moving to rest against his bare chest; her eyes unable to help but notice the gleaming of the gems of her ring as she did so while she took in the sight of the man that she loved more than anything in this world in the morning light of their shared bedroom.

"Hands on the headboard, Captain... and absolutely no touching..."

because baby you're a force of nature
i know she loves me through thick and thin. current come pull me down. i won't take a breath, i wanna drown.
// 1654 @ peggy
The world—in spite of, or perhaps because of, every last cry of “the day is near!” and “it’s the end of times!” that arose from the rubble of the war—had gone on without them. How slow time had passed while they were living it; now it seemed all had changed in the blink of an eye. It was difficult to fathom the decades they had spent beneath the ice. To them, it felt like no time at all. Yet the world seemed strangely determined to prove it had evolved.

This Peggy and Grant were learning again and again. Sometimes it was as simple as a colloquial difference. Sometimes it was as complex as the progress of technology. Sometimes it was the mere fact they no longer had to ration or hoard to survive—food and other goods could be bought in abundance, with coins and paper that seemed to Grant to always exist in surplus (he and Peggy shared an innate frugality). It felt, constantly, like they were running three times as fast as anyone else just to catch up. If Grant had been forced to do this alone? He wouldn’t have accepted it so naturally. But with Peggy, he was willing to embrace the future and the challenges it brought by, well, existing.

God forbid he ever have to face this world without her.

Not all they had left behind had been bad. No, life had not been easy for either of them. Grant: an orphan, sickly, and desperate to prove himself, to matter to anyone at all—the other boys from St. Vincent’s were his friends, and vice versa, of course, because there is a solidarity in being unwanted, but he had been otherwise alone—trying to thrive in this world without a history or a penny to his name. And Peggy, a young woman who, while of good stock and a good family, was entirely expected to fit the mold of the role impressed upon her by scores of generations before her, and who found herself rebuked at so many turns. No, their lives had not been simple. But the camaraderie established with their Commandos (for as much as they were the Captain’s, the boys had always been known to respect the hell out of—and to listen to—Peggy, too), and the brief moments of respite spent together left Grant looking far more fondly back on his life than he had ever expected to.

The drink and song of celebrations spent in cramped pubs with their team. Gentle touches and sweet words shared in the private moments with her. Raucous stories told around battlefield campfires that had them all clutching their sides and unable to breath for hours afterwards. Colored by those times, even his memories of his time at the home could be recalled with fondness. There were baseball games in alleyways and nicked treats shared with one another , or oranges in Christmas stockings and rare, but cherished visits to the Boys and Girls club (just the Boys club, then) streets over. These moments made him smile. Few history books recorded them, and even fewer minds recalled them, but for Grant (though he did not know how his thoughts paralleled Peggy’s at this moment), they were all worth remembering.

Like her.

Proposing to her today had been no small feat. It had been easy to know he wanted to do it, because he had been smitten with Peggy from almost the beginning. Of course, not all guys are lucky enough to find gals that they realize they love through and through, but apparently he was. For every step forward he and Peggy took in courtship, they discovered in each someone who was as kindred and as different as anyone could ever hope a life partner to be. They agreed on a lot of things, yes, and many in this age had commented on their nascent relationship (not yet knowing or understanding that Peggy and Grant shared far more history than had been recorded) with the general idea that they were quite similar in determination, dedication, and daring. However, even where they did not match, they complimented.

They were not free of fault. They had their arguments. But there’s something funny about facing life and death situations with someone you love. You either realize what really matters, and what you can let go in the heart of things—or you fall apart.

He had been lucky. So lucky. And he loved her more than anything on this green, green earth. So, yes, it had been something of an undertaking, because the end result mattered so much to him. He thought they could probably stay happily together and unmarried without a problem—especially now that no one judged such a thing like that—but it would do nothing but good to make themselves not only one in body or in heart, but on paper and in spirit, too.

Call him a little selfish, but Grant wanted to spend the rest of this second try at life with her.

As Peggy’s thumb touched Grant’s lip, skin grazing skin, he let out a slow, feather-light exhale. He loved to watch the way she smiled, as she did now—her lips always parted slowly at first, and then, in the way the sun suddenly bounds above the horizon in an instant, grows into one of the fullest smiles Grant had ever had the pleasure of seeing. Her eyes lit up when she smiled like that; more than once it had made him go weak in the knees just to see it.

Just as she had brushed his lips with her fingertips, his mouth now pressed softly to the dimple in her cheek with a kiss. They were tangled together laying like this, with limb and limb tucked around one another, so he was hardly surprised when Peggy was able to roll him onto his back. He didn’t resist; his hands went to her hips and rested there, surely quite warm and dry against her bare skin.

Her hands wandered. At one point, he laid one of his over hers, knowing full well she felt the pounding of his heart beneath the both of their palms. A grin played about on his features, as cheerfully cavorting as sunlight through foliage. It was very easy to watch Peggy while she did this, to take a backseat for the view he still could not believe he was allowed to have. But he was an eager man, a happy man, and just as she loved to treat him, so he loved to treat her.

She was kissing his neck, his jaw. Her teeth raked his earlobe. He inhaled sharply. One hand had slid up her back to rest against the nape of her neck, loose and intertwined a few locks of her soft hair. She was pulling back from him; he planted a kiss against her jaw just as he heard her words.

I love you, too, Peg.

Her command was not an unfamiliar one, nor was it unwanted. Anyone who knew Grant for more than a few minutes understood he could take an order just as well as he could give one—from the right people. How did this extend to the bedroom? Why did it even matter?

After the serum, and after he had taken the liberty of doing what the Army couldn’t and wouldn’t, Grant had assumed the cloak of command as naturally as one could hope. There had always been a leader in that tiny, scrawny body of his. There was something to be said for the fact it was not until after Erskine’s efforts that most (most) had been able to recognize this, but that was a knot to unsnarl another time. The point was, Grant had gone from never being listened to, to be consulted on many significant aspects of the war. He had taken that mantle without a qualm, largely in thanks to Peggy’s belief in him, and pushed himself to be what they needed in that role. From that day forward to the day they died, people had looked to him to lead even when he wasn’t sure he could.

Was that why he relished it when Peggy took control?

Not really. It simply wasn’t that simple. He had been attracted to Peggy because of the magnitude of her gravity; it was her strength of will, vitality, and determined morality that had him looking at her like she was his sun, moon, and stars. Grant was always going to be drawn to the women forged of iron and steel. And part of that was her independence. The leadership qualities, she, too, had in spades. The fact that she enjoyed this exchange as much as he did.

To understand the complexities of their personalities and how they balanced one another, even in bed as they were now, would take hours. When Grant could give up his control, his self, his autonomy, and put all that in Peggy’s hands? It left him feeling heady, free, and vulnerable. With her, he could be that way. She had not judged him, a nervous and tearful virgin, when they made love for the first time on a cot really too narrow to bear them both. And she did not judge him now. With her, he could be himself, and could bear himself to her… and she would love whatever the result was.

Grant’s hands went to the headboard, his chest rising and falling beneath Peggy’s hands as he stretched languidly, curled his fists around the beams, and settled down. He was grinning boyishly at his new fiancée, even though this would—as it always did—take all the self-control he had. He knew good and well he was in for a challenge. He always was.
robb stark
you're a force of nature
There were times in this new, beautiful shot at picking up her life where it had left off where Peggy wondered if her relationship - her love - with Grant had at all been altered by what had taken their lives from them a touch too soon. She knew before their deaths that she had loved him (and she had admitted to that time and time again with no shame) much as she knew now that she loved him and had absolutely no qualms reminding him of that, but was it the exact same love that they had shared before they had experienced death?

There was no denying that Grant had most definitely been new to love when he and Peggy had first met but he wasn't the only one that had been nervous about whatever it was that had started budding between them. Peggy had been plagued by nerves and anxiety more times than she had ever admitted to him; their love was so new and had so many obstacles to overcome that it was outright terrifying to so much as confront. Factor in the era and what was going on around them and it was easy to see why Peggy had some reservations.

It wasn't at all that she didn't think that she and Grant could be happy; she had never felt more happiness than she had the day the two of them had met and, up until that point, she had slowly been giving up hope on ever finding that form of happiness for herself. The happiness that radiated and grew every time you watched the one you felt most affectionate towards prove the world - and everyone around them - wrong. There was nothing like it.

Still, as the war raged on, one couldn't help but to wonder what would happen to that small piece of happiness that they had both managed to keep a firm hold on. Would one of them fail to make it back from one of their missions? Would both live to see the end of the war and choose to start a life together, or would they, for whatever reason, choose to spend their lives apart?

There wasn't a single part of her entire being that believed the latter.

Dying alongside each other was as close to living out the rest of their lives together as they had gotten; did this new chance alter what they had had? Did Peggy find herself loving him more than she had in the forties? Did she trust him more now knowing that he would stay by her side regardless of the grim outcome?

As her brown eyes gazed down into his baby blues, she wondered that for a flicker of a moment. They say that nothing can remain unaltered forever and perhaps there was some truth to that... but their love - that intense, burning, all-consuming love that they had had years ago - hadn't changed. There was no way to trust someone more when you already trusted them completely. There was no way to give someone more love when they already had your entire heart. Death had made them stronger, perhaps, but Peggy was just as in love with him as she had been from the start.

The morning glow was still pouring in past the white curtains of their bedroom, that same golden-amber coloured light from outside bathing Grant's stocky and muscular body in a warm tone that Peggy found herself memorizing every single morning. She loved to just look at him... Admiring the effort he put into cording those muscles beneath his flawless skin.

Peggy bit down gently on her bottom lip, wondering where she should start because all of that firm muscle looked just as good as it always did. Too good.

With her weight settling on the knees that she had planted on either side of his body, Peggy was careful as she eased down against him. The brunette loved the way that his body felt beneath hers; the firm press of solid muscle... Still, she was mindful of where her hips were, staying just out of reach so that the friction between their bodies didn't end up exciting him more than she was wanting just yet. Her brown eyes went to the long line of his bare torso and she felt her mouth quirk up into a small smirk. Her fingers trailing through the dusting of chest hair, down between the valleys between each abdominal muscle until she found the dark path of hair that led to his groin. One unpainted fingernail edging along one of the more prominent veins that lingered just above the elastic of his boxer shorts and just beneath his skin.

And then her touch was gone. Her hands focusing instead on the small buttons that kept his shirt that she had stolen through the night clinging to her frame. It was hard to pull her eyes away from him... He looked too damn good laying there like that and waiting for her touch. Despite his size, he looked so vulnerable and, in many ways he was, yet he trusted her so fully and so thoroughly with himself. That was something Peggy never took for granted.

"I want you to kiss me..." His shirt hung loose around her body now that it was completely unbuttoned, leaving her fully exposed to him while one of her hands ran through his sandy blonde hair. "But I want you to kiss me right here..." Her gentle grip pulling his head to her full breasts; her eyes on his hands as they gripped the headboard almost as a reminder that he was expected to keep them where they were until she told him otherwise.

because baby you're a force of nature
i know she loves me through thick and thin. current come pull me down. i won't take a breath, i wanna drown.
// 1039 @ peggy
To say Peggy and Grant's relationship had been rather extraordinary was something of an understatement. By the books, they had been together for nearly four years, but historically, there was neither a hint nor a whisper that they had been anything but perfectly proper—and separate—in the war. Rumors will fly as they are wont to do, but that's all they had ever been. No one, not even their Commandos, had ever seemed to know of the truth of it: that they spent more nights in one another's tents than apart.

The secretive nature of their relationship was unfortunate in its necessity. Not that they couldn't have weather the animosity and talk that might have arisen as a result of it, but that they had loved their jobs, had done well at them, and knew the causes for which they fought were more important than jeopardizing all that to go up against a convoluted system. There would be time, or so they had assumed before their deaths, after the war in which they could live their life as they pleased. The European Theater simply hadn't been the time or place.

Baby blue eyes—with irises as translucent and vibrant as sun-sparkled ocean waves, and rimmed with the dark navy of deep sea waters—stared up at Peggy, wide and almost completely pure, somehow, in their innocent want. Grant had a way of spouting wisdom and authority one second, and appearing vulnerable and unguarded the next—but only when he was with Peggy. Outside these walls, few knew how openly he let himself be himself in front of her. That said, there had never been a single moment, not one second, where he hadn't felt like he couldn't be. Not since the day they decided to be together in spite of everything: in spite of the war, in spite of tradition, in spite of the fact that they faced every day knowing that they could lose each other in the span of a heartbeat.

Now, in this moment, a gentle, ever-so-slightly mischievous smile played around on the soldier's lips. He kept his mouth closed thus far, not because he didn't want to speak to Peggy, but because the name of the game was "Do As Peggy Says", and he knew to listen. Once upon a time, this had been less about the dichotomy they shared—the Captain, following the orders of his beloved Agent without hesitation—and more about the mere fact that, well… truth be told, Peggy had been Grant's first. She would also be his last, but that was beside the pint; Grant had handled their first time together about as well as one would expect of a mid-century man who hadn't so much as danced with a woman, which is to say, not well at all. But when Peggy neither judged nor begrudged him for those moments of tenderness and fragility, he knew that he could trust her with utter abandon. Forever.

He never went back after that.

Those eyes that watched her, that intent gaze, followed the curve of her slightly pillow-mussed hair, and the porcelain cheek that gave way to those lips he so loved to see smile. His breath hitched in his throat as her hands traveled his chest, stomach, waist, and his heart could be felt to be thrumming merrily when her touch played at the division between bare skin and the cloth of his underclothes. Since he had been explicitly instructed not to remove his hands from the headboard, he could only drink Peggy in with his eyes; could only inhale her scent, and feel the weight of her warmth on his legs.

This in it of itself was enough to make him restless, but he knew good and well that if he didn't control himself, what he wanted would only get farther and farther away—and all he wanted to do was to be allowed to make Peggy feel as good as she made him feel. To embrace this woman he loved, inside and out, and show her the beauty he was so goddamn lucky to see in her and because of her every single day.

Her hands were in his hair. He smiled at the touch, exhaling slowly at the sight of Peggy—a sight he never tired of—and let her guide him to her chest. Despite his own strength, he could be delicate when he wanted to, and this is how he began, with hands still holding on as he had been told to do. A lazy circle of kisses spiraled out from the center of Peggy's chest, occasionally involving teeth that only grazed her skin hard enough to remind her of their presence. He was controlling his breathing as much as possible, but his breath was undoubtedly nudging from warm to hot when he exhaled in between kisses.

Though he did not let go, his arms flexed once or twice as though to remind him of the rules, especially as he found her left nipple and began to tease it. This was done playfully—he did not know if Peggy wanted to draw this out, and the things he did were technically outside the definition of kissing, as it were. But he sucked gently at first, and when he was sure of her arousal by the way she responded, to run his tongue aching slowly across and around it. Again, his teeth came into play: nipping just enough to sting slightly and no more.

If he hadn't been fully aroused before, he was now, and if Peggy were to settle on his still-clothed hips, she would know this without even looking. But he made no sound of want or need, even though he ached for her—just as he always did. There was something about this morning, too, in particular—maybe the knowledge that she was to be his wife, and he her husband, or maybe the utter joy as a result of her saying yes—but he knew today would be even more difficult than ever to listen. There was a part of him that wanted to roll them both over and give of himself so completely that she was utterly satiated, but that would come in time, he knew. It always did. He simply had to be patient.
robb stark
you're a force of nature
There had been a great many people that had asked what it was about Grant that Peggy had been drawn to; so many seemed to be eager to conclude that she had set her sights on him simply because of who he became. Few knew that Peggy had had a bond with Grant from day one, not just day one of the super-serum project. She hadn't fallen for him when he had become known for his muscles and his newfound leadership qualities; she had fallen for him when he had been an always-sick, half-deaf guy from Brooklyn that stumbled over his words every single time he attempted to converse with her.

In short, Peggy hadn't fallen for what was on the outside. Every single thing that she loved about Grant had to do with who he was, not what he was. His soul, his heart, his sense of humour, his morals, his values and goals... Everything about him complimented her own personality and her own dreams and aspirations in ways she hadn't ever thought possible in a partner. They were from two separate worlds, that much was true, but Peggy had been willing to leave her small little world behind if it meant becoming part of something bigger and being part of his.

Four years together and not a single regret, after that point. The majority of those years had consisted of concealing everything about their relationship, but even those moments couldn't possibly be seen as regrets, despite what society back then may have thought. The time between those kisses and nights of intimacy gave them time to miss and crave each other which made each night they were able to sneak and spend together borderline explosive.

In this day and age, many believed Grant and Peggy to be none other than the descendants of Captain America and Agent Carter. That was easy to feed into as many chalked the physical similarities down to family resemblance even if very little had ever been disclosed about Grant or Peggy's families. Others, of course, knew the truth but both groups of people seemed to have made the bold assumption that Grant and Peggy were chaste and a little prudish, for whatever reason. Perhaps because they chose not to participate in public displays of affection where so many others chose to kiss, hold hands and do vastly inappropriate things in the presence of others. It always amused the couple, more so when someone caught them stealing a small moment of intimacy much as they had always been so used to doing.

The brunette was easily able to feel the beating of his heart beneath his chest as her hands travelled down it. Each move of his muscles with every breath, every strain of his arms as they continued to obediently clutch the headboard... He knew, after all, that if he were to stray from what Peggy was asking of him that she would only prolong the process until the torture of his need for more ended up being punishment enough in Peggy's eyes. There had been many times when she had refused to give him what he was craving most just to make an example out of any misbehavings...

There had also been times when she had let them slide, too. Times when her own need was far too great for her to continue ignoring it for much longer than she already had; times when she faltered and caved because not even she was strong enough to continue licking at the flames she was trying to bring about.

His warm lips against her chest; his hot breath against her bare skin had her lips curving into the faintest of smirks. She could see the lines of muscles along his arms flexing and straining; she wondered how hard of a time he was already having with this one little rule of hers while she weighed whether or not she planned on keeping up with this little game but with his mouth sucking against her nipple gently before nipping against it - causing a soft gasp to fall from her lips - she knew she wasn't going to be able to keep up with the game quite as long as she had been wanting to.

Settling down against his hips in an effort to ease the weight she had been placing on her knees, she was easily able to feel just how much he was wanting this which only encouraged that small smirk on her lips to grow. There had never been much of any doubt that Grant never wanted her as much as she often found herself wanting him; needless to say, she always found ways to make perfect use of that.

Biting down on her bottom lip for the briefest of moments, Peggy's fingers tugged the waistband of his boxer shorts down, lifting her hips just enough for her to be able to slide them down his thighs to his legs where he was free to kick them off if he so chose to. He was hard for her already, that much was obvious; his erection laying against his stomach while her soft hands travelled up his arms to find his hands that still clutched the headboard.

This, of course, caused her body to lean well over his, but that was her full intention as it had her lifting her hips up from his just enough for her to be able to straddle him a touch more effectively. This time, when her hips settled back down onto his, there was no clothing acting as a barrier between them. Her warm skin was flush against his and his shaft was nestled between her wet lips; her hips moving almost agonizingly slow as she dragged them from his base to his tip like an erotic massage. Letting him feel just how warm and wet she already was for him; a clear indication that she wasn't going to lean in the way of punishment for his kisses turning into teasing her nipple in the way that he had been. This worked in her favour too, of course: Each time she moved, he was brushing against her clit in the most flawlessly sinful of ways, and she made absolutely no attempt to hide just how much she was enjoying that...

Her breath was hot against his ear as she nipped against it softly; her full breasts brushing against his toned chest with each of her hip's slow movements. "Tell me what you want..."

because baby you're a force of nature
i know she loves me through thick and thin. current come pull me down. i won't take a breath, i wanna drown.
// 952 @ peggy
Grant's exhale was rough and uninhibited when Peggy settled down against him, the full weight of her warmth and her want coming to bear on his own. A flexing motion, from shoulder to knee, shuddered along his body; he was doing his damnedest to keep to Peggy's rules, but usually the build was slower than this. Easier to bear than this. Was it surprising, really, that they wanted each other this badly? That they were this eager? They touched each other with the full knowledge that the rest of their lives would be spent as a whole instead of two halves, yearning and reaching. They held each other in the understanding that they’d never have to let each other go, not now, not again, not ever. Was it shocking, then, that they were so impatient in this moment, when they had waited so, so, so very long to have it?

But still the soldier clung to the headboard, because this was a beloved game of "Do As Peggy Says," and just like the woman for which this dance was named, he wasn’t ever going to tire of it.

Though Grant was certain the Commandos had never known the sheer extent to which he and Peggy had long ago consummated their feelings for each other, he also knew that they weren't oblivious to the lingering gazes and the worried frowns when the two had to play it nice around each other, or see each other off. Constant, playful ribbing on missions; steps out of earshot during debriefs… his boys had done their Captain well given the times. Surely, just as they dreamt of girls back home and Grant had hoped they'd make it back to them, they had hoped their leader would find his heart with the person he so dearly and clearly wanted all those years, and they had tried not to hamper this. After all, the rest of the world saw him as this pillar of strength, standing alone... but they knew better. And so did he. So they had wanted that for him, because their Captain was nothing without his Agent, and he knew it.

It may have been his team's greatest sorrow then, during the war, to lose them both that fateful December. Grant had been deeply relieved to discover that the members of the Howling Commandos had nonetheless gone on to do great things. And when all was said and done, they had also gone back to find love, a homestead, and some peace. Their bravery and their actions warranted no less. In turn, Grant never thought about how much he and Peggy actually deserved this chance—he was just grateful to be living and breathing next to her—but if their boys had known? They'd be thinking the same. If not more so. All they had sacrificed, all he and Peggy had given up just because the world had needed someone… they didn't often think about it. But they were lovers out of time, and it was about time, too, that they were allowed their rest. Their love. Their happiness.

Blue eyes were wide and warm as they watched the way the tip of a tooth dug gently into a lip, white against red. He could spend hours just drawing that little moment, that scene, and still never get enough of it; how could a face be so strong and so vulnerable at the same time? He was in love with the minutiae, and as Peggy's lips parted, his own curved into a sweet smile.

Wandering hands divested him of his undergarments, leaving only the unbuttoned shirt across Peggy's shoulders as the last bit of clothing either of them were wearing. Grant drank every inch of his soon-to-be-wife in, appreciating every perfectly imperfect curve, freckle, scar. He knew that whole body by heart, but it never ceased to wow or surprise him, no matter how many times it was revealed to him. Just like she never ceased to wow or surprise him. He had never understood how the world could ever look down on someone like Peggy, because when he saw her? He saw the sun. She was his hero. His best friend. The right partner.

Her hands were feather-light on his arms, but the weight of her body, so very wet and hot against him, had him sucking in air through his teeth when Peg leaned forward. She had settled right down on top of his erect member, rocking back in and forth in a motion akin to the slow crest of waves on the sea; it lit every nerve on fire each time she moved from end to end, and the half-groan, half-moan showed how much he burned with it for her.

He caught her mouth for a drawn-out kiss as it traveled past his own, and took her bottom lip between his teeth so that when she pulled away, the parting was slow and delicate, speaking volumes of the desire for that mouth to stay even as her focus took her elsewhere. Her teeth were on his ear, her curves upon him, and his hips rose at the precise point to increase the pressure of his tip against her nub when she spoke to him. Even now, he clung to the headboard like a lifeline, but his hands worked restlessly, winding and twisting.

A kiss and suck of the soft spot just below her jaw; his voice was a whisper in her ear, just a breath and a heartbeat. "Let me love you… let me make you feel wonderful."

There were other nights to be patient. This morning, they could be wanting. They could be eager. They could be hungry.
robb stark
you're a force of nature
Was it perhaps a bit selfish to so thoroughly enjoy the way you could make someone else feel? Sometimes Peggy found herself wondering that; during the little moments when she purposely set out to get a reaction from the man she loved... it was a touch cruel at times. When he was wanting her just as badly as she was wanting him, but her need to tease and torment her lover overpowered her need to have him.

It had nothing to do with power: Peggy could feel powerful without having someone submitting to her in the bedroom; it was just such a sense of satisfaction to see him reacting to the thousands of ways she knew his body. To know that nobody else knew Grant the way that she did... no one was able to make him inhale through his teeth the way that she so easily could... Nobody could demand a thing from him and have him comply without question or complaint, yet she could, as was evident by his still-tight grip on the headboard...

That wasn't even factoring in just how safe they both felt with each other. They could feel exposed and vulnerable without feeling as though they needed to be on the defence. They could give of themselves totally and completely without the fear of judgement or rejection. Who wouldn't want to relish every single moment of that, selfishly or otherwise?

Any other time that Peggy had taken the initiative to have her beloved abide by her rules in bed, she would have surely 'punished' the drawn-out kiss that he pulled her mouth into as it travelled past his own. Perhaps by prolonging the teasing she was dishing out to him, or perhaps by insisting she be the one on top simply so she could ensure her pace against him was as nearly agonizing as it was slow and precise.

The heat of his mouth was far too tempting, however. His lips against hers, his teeth holding her bottom lip almost as if he didn't want her to pull away as soon as she had. A soft gasp of a moan leaving her lips - that would have brushed against his own had she insisted on staying deep in that kiss just a little while longer - as his hips rose up into hers; his tip pressing almost sinfully against her just enough to drive her nearly insane with pure desperation.

She wasn't at all oblivious to the sound of the wood of the headboard creaking beneath his grip; she couldn't at all control the small smirk that found her red lips at both the sound and the sight of him still obeying that initial command. Brown eyes finding his blue ones as her hips continued to move slowly against his erection; his words bringing her lips down to his once again. This kiss being more of a promise. Agreement that he had earned the chance to love her the way he was wanting to; a reward... one that came far earlier in her game than she usually allowed, but given the ring that still glimmered on her left hand... denying either one of them for much longer wasn't at all something she could see as possible.

Her hand reached for the bedside table, pulling the drawer open just a peek. Enough for her fingers to find one of the many condoms they kept inside before she was using her fingertips to push it closed once again.

Pale hips stilled; her other hand reaching down between them to resume the friction her body had been providing him. Her hand stroking his warm length - now wet from her own body - firmly but slowly as she used her teeth to tear the package open, not quite caring where the wrapper landed on the floor.

It took her hand a few slow, long strokes to roll it past his tip and down his shaft to settle at the base. Red lips against his bare neck, dragging along the skin there. Never kissing, never sucking, never nibbling... Just grazing the area as her hand squeezed his length gently, feeling his girth against her palm as her hot breath hit the side of his neck in a soft moan, followed by whispered words.

"At ease, soldier..." She was, of course, referring to any orders she had been asking him to follow; he was free to move as he so pleased, but he would know that without her needing to explain. It wasn't the first time those words had fallen from her lips, be it in the bedroom or otherwise. "You're free to move as you please..."

because baby you're a force of nature
i know she loves me through thick and thin. current come pull me down. i won't take a breath, i wanna drown.
// 1058 @ peggy
Grant struggled to understand how anyone could ever grow tired of a loved one, or how love could ever fade. From that first fateful day that he had met Peggy, right up to this very moment, he found waking up every day to those eyes a new adventure, full of surprises and depths to discovers. Some days it was about learning about that specific little way she liked her cheese toasties; others, it was about the way the corners of her eyes wrinkled when she suppressed a triumphant smile during a game of Durak. Maybe this loving tenacity was the result of a choice made in the face of life or death: that is, the choice to live, because to live would mean to someday spend that life with her. War was worse than hell, but at the end of it, there stood a house on a hill. Quiet mornings. Song, laughter, good food, and her hand in his, till paint flecked away and hair turned gray.

Even death couldn't stand in the way of that dream. And now… now they could fulfill those whispered promises made to each other during darkened rain-soaked nights, listening to the sound of far-off gunfire. Grant had never, ever thought he would be granted this simple happiness, regardless of whether it was owed to him or Peggy, or not… but here they were. The odds had been against them. His weak, unstable body pre-serum and the war post; her family's "predetermined destiny" for her before the battles, and a thousand doors shut in her face during them. Yet, somehow, somehow, they had made it.

Despite all the odds, they had made it.

And she had said yes.

Trying to keep Peggy's lips on his was a risky play, but with their spirits high, he knew she'd be more forgiving than normal. Any other night, Peg would have required Grant's penance to be drawn out, the consequence teasing and playful, even as it pushed him to the edge of his endurance. They were both willing participants in this little game, and enjoyed the hell out of it on the regular, but sometimes Grant, too, just loved to love her unabashedly. Sometimes the risk was worth the "punishment".

The headboard protested his grip; if he wasn't careful, he'd break it without a second thought. Distracted as he was, it cracked miserably when Peggy came in for a second kiss. Breath to breath, passed between heartbeats, and he relished the taste of her mouth. Laid in awe of the way she moved, blue eyes as bright as the morning sun.

Even the act of covering him was admired. Peggy's actions, always deft, never seemed wasted, even when they were unintentional. She instinctively walked a fine line of gracefulness he could only hope to aspire to ever mirror. Strength molded in her own unique way; making a dance of even life's simplest movements, and art of the greatest ones. Fighting or loving… she was his inspiration, and hell, he loved her beyond reaches, beyond comprehension.

He leaned into her lips, into her moan, turning his head slightly so that stubbled cheek pressed against her forehead. His lips brushed the top of her ear; he exhaled forcefully at her grip, hips flexing upwards yet again.

The moment she told him to stand down, his hands fell from the headboard to her shoulders, and his mouth found hers. The motion with which he slid the unbuttoned white shirt off her pale frame was slow. Precise. Palms and fingertips trailed along her shoulders and arms, bunching up the cloth inch by inch until she was completely bare. A nimble flick of his right hand tossed the unwanted swath of cotton to the floor.

With permission to turn the tables in any fashion he desired, Grant slid his hands back down to just below Peggy's shoulder blades, shifted his legs, and executed a smooth, careful roll that put his now-fiancée beneath him. One leg lay beneath her knees; he lifted himself up until he was kneeling, and leaned over her, a free hand sliding behind her head and into the thick, glossy tangle of her hair. For a moment, he was caught up by her beauty, by her smile, by the sheer, overwhelming fact that she loved him as much as he loved her. His heart felt fit to burst with the ferocity of it. Flushed chest and stomach rose and fell with a ragged breath.

"I love you, Peg. I love you so damn much."

The first kiss was gentle, lips to lips, his tongue ever-so-slightly questing, but not invading. But the second, third, fourth moved away and down her neck, tracing the curve of her collarbone, and the hollow of her throat. A soft pressure on the nape of her neck encouraged her to arch a little, to lift into the dizzy circles he traced on her skin, even as he moved on from the sweet dip of her skin to the rising curve of her breast. He used his teeth now, grazing the skin with each lengthy kiss, paying close attention to the oft-neglected spots he knew would rile her up like none other.

While one hand supported her like this, the other moved down her smooth stomach, caressing gently. He loved to run his hand over her body like this, to tease her with the lightest of tantalizing touches, of tender pressures. Sometimes he would linger there, letting the simplicity of his movement to stir the coals, but not today. No. His fingers moved south, sliding achingly slowly over the curve of her nether lips, and into the damp heat of her arousal.

A fingertip pressed gently on her bud, just enough to send a jolt through her. He didn't need to look to know what to do; while his mouth focused on the hills and valleys of her bosom, his fingers moved in a slow, probing circle, switching directions and pressures just enough to be unpredictable. The heel of his hand rested on top of her, pressing down—between that, and the way his hand had now intertwined with her hair, she would not be able to wiggle away from either grasp unless she absolutely wanted to. Just as she had told him to be still, now he took control with a soft, but insistent touch.
robb stark
you're a force of nature
Upon waking into the same world both she and Grant had once graced, only to see how drastically it had changed in their absence (both for better and for worse), one of the first things Peggy had come to see for herself was just how much love had changed. Perhaps not the emotion - feeling love was as involuntary as breathing, really - but rather the way the world went about love.

As a girl, Peggy had been raised to be rather proper when it came to finding a man wishing to marry her. Granted, back then the process had been quite a bit more extensive; the modern world had cut out the need for courting altogether, it seemed. That tranquil time when you lulled yourself somewhere between being nothing more than friends and just shy of being betrothed...

Families were a large part of this process; typically a father's approval was always solicited before the courting process (and before the proposal, should one come of it).

Things were kept chaste, for the most part. There were some couples who opted to give themselves to their lovers before marriage, though it wasn't spoken of in fear of the backlash it would have in their communities. Religion weighed heavily in households and a great many believed such things were meant to be saved for after vows were exchanged.

Peggy hadn't ever found herself eager to follow rules, least of all those of organized religion. She had her beliefs, all of which centered around the belief that God was more than the misogynistic chauvinist that damned anyone who wasn't a white heterosexual eager to follow whatever rules their church had set into place. God was meant to be forgiving and God was meant to love unconditionally, though God hadn't at all factored into her decision to give herself to someone before she had been married to them. That decision had been hers and hers alone.

Had she ever regretted it? Yes and no. She had been more than fine with it in the moment and it had never so much as haunted her as her life progressed onward; it was when she had met Grant - someone who had been saving himself for the right partner - that Peggy had felt a slight pang of guilt that she hadn't believed there ever was a 'right partner'. She had settled for an alright moment over the the right man. It was the one thing she would never be able to give him and yet it was something he had never so much as faulted her for. Not once. Perhaps her being his first had been enough, or maybe the amount of firsts they had shared together by far outweighed the one they wouldn't.

He was quick to obey as she informed him he was able to do as he wished; as much as she enjoyed dragging out the little orders and demands she often had for him in the bedroom... there were times - quite like this one - where her own desperate need for him by far outweighed any of the little games they often enjoyed.

Grant's fingers were warm against her skin as he slid the unbuttoned white shirt down her shoulders, leaving her completely bare before rolling her over until it was her back pressed against the bed sheets rather than his.

One of his large hands worked its way beneath her head and into her thick curls as the tables turned just slightly enough to have Peggy seeing just how easily it was to feel as though every touch was nowhere near enough. As though the words he spoke were a distraction from what she was already wanting more than anything, even though they both knew she loved him just as much, if not more so.

The kiss he offered her lips was almost too gentle; she could feel his tongue teasing her mouth, not quite giving her what she was wanting before his lips moved down her neck. Peggy might have had all the patience in all situations, but when it came to Grant and how easily he could shred that patience...

Well, it was needless to say that by the time he had reached her collarbone and began kissing along her throat, Peggy had thrown all intents to take it just as well as she had dished it out the window.

It had taken them more than one storming night to learn how to work the other's body so flawlessly; that had been where half of the enjoyment had stemmed from. The quiet, storm-raging nights when they could take their time exploring each other without worry that someone would barge in on their stolen moment of intimacy. She loved knowing she could rile him up like no other woman ever had... and even though it could be extremely frustrating at times - like now - she loved that he could do the same to her.

Grant's warm hand moved down her stomach without a hint of an intention to stop to prolong the slow torture. Thankfully, the brunette was met with that gentle jolt of pleasure as his fingertip pressed against her; he held her still which worked to her benefit. With the way her body practically writhed beneath him, the last thing she wanted to do was accidentally pull herself away from the hand that worked between her thighs.

Her chest rose and fell against his mouth with each breath she took; his fingers giving her exactly what she wanted, yet at the same time denying her all the same. If they kept the same pressure and the same direction, Peggy knew it wouldn't have taken her long to fall apart but he was quick to switch things up, teasing her just as much as she had teased him just moments ago.

Still, her hips pressed down against his fingers as best as she could manage with his hand pressing down against her. A soft moan falling from her lips just as she pressed them against the side of his neck in a heated kiss.

One of her own hands was quick to find his; her fingers moving over his in an effort to encourage his to keep pressing in the same direction. The hungry kisses she left along the side of his neck turning into playful nips as she whispered against the skin there.

"You're going to drive me crazy..."

because baby you're a force of nature
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