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getitoutofmymindwrites · 2 months

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Something impulsive | joel miller x f!reader x marcus pike, 7.1k

Summary: The distance between you and Joel grows. You decide to give Marcus a chance. A chance encounter shifts the balance between you and the two men.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, image just for aesthetic purposes, reader does not have a description, angst, slow-burn, insecurities, first date nervousness, flirting, sexual thoughts, kissing, Joel still being a prick, Joel still being an idiot (bear with him) dog piss (bear with me, too), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: And here I was, thinking that this time I'll keep it short. Who am I kidding. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all!

P.S.: Credits for the final scene go to @jessthebaker and this hilarious comment that I just had to include in the chapter:

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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Radio silence.

That is what you would call it.

After your last encounter, you haven't seen or heard from Joel for two long weeks. No text, no phone call, nothing. Were you entering the winter phase again? Most likely.

You regretted the way you had challenged him that night. It wasn't really your style, but that's what happens when you bottle things up. Especially things like desire and longing. Eventually, they erupt like a fucking volcano after a long hibernation. Brutally. And yet you haven't got an ounce or a reaction. Something. Anything at all.

You were terrified that your friendship had been broken. You could have texted him. You should have. You felt it was all your fault anyway. You should have apologized. But you were angry. And selfish. And deep down you blamed him for your reaction, for making you feel helpless, a pawn in his hands.

But was that the case? And can you really blame anyone for your own actions? You were responsible for the way you reacted. You could have done things differently. You knew that. But you did not want to admit that to him.

Whether you were angry or not, you missed him all the same. You missed his presence, his voice, his scent. You missed the sound of his name on your tongue. The warmth of his irises and the softness in his eyes when he looked at you. And boy, did he look at you.

He may not have been a man of many words, but sometimes, just sometimes, his gaze spoke louder than any voice in the room. That's how you got into this mess in the first place.

One evening, on your day off, you hang out with Trish at your place. You needed the company, being alone with your thoughts for too long wasn't a good idea. The two of you sit on the sofa, drinking beer and eating pizza straight out of the box. You had already put your girls to bed and this was your happy hour.

"Are you dating Marcus you little weasel?"

"Where did that come from?", your eyes widen in surprise.

"Joel asked me the other day.", Trish reveals, laughing under her breath.

"WHAT?" you squeal in disbelief. Joel was not the type to ask about other people's private matters. Especially yours and especially to his cousin. "OK, please, elaborate."

"He asked me if you’re seeing him.", she continues.

"When did this happen?", you try to draw an imaginary map in your mind, gathering all the information available to you to understand what might be going through his mind.

"A few days ago, maybe?" she says nonchalantly.

"He asked that explicitly? Those were the exact words he used?", you insist like a hound dog looking for clues.

"Of course not." Trish rolls her eyes, "He danced around it for a while, but I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about -which I obviously don't- and then I made him ask directly."

"Oh god, give the poor man a break!", you exclaim, you could only imagine what a menace could she be when she wanted to.

"Well, are you?"

"No, I’m not. But if he asks again tell him I am."

"Why?", she frowns but looks amused at the same time. Oh, she's up to something.

"So he will leave me alone." Well he already kind of did, but maybe it was for the best to cut the ties once and for all.

"What do you mean? Is he bothering you?" Trish insists, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"No- he's- it's not- uh-" where would you even start, it's all a fucking mess, anyway. "Forget I said anything-" you try to end the conversation, but-

"I might have kind of implied that, though?" Trish wrinkles her nose, trying to minimize the damage.

"WHAT?"

"Only because he looked desperate" she rushes to explain, "and honestly you two should really fuck each other. So I thought maybe I could spice things up a bit."

A minute or two passes before you answer her. All this information bombarding your mind left a paralyzing feeling in your mouth. He looked desperate? Why the fuck? Was this the classic 'I want what I can't have'? He wasn't that type. And he could have his way with you if he wanted to. Couldn't he? Did he get the feeling that you weren't interested? What more could you have done, he was the one who went cold and hot all the time. "It's not like that." is all you say.

"The hell it isn't." Trish quips, almost offended.

"We don't want the same things Trish, and I won't make the same mistakes again." you draw the line. "What did he say?", you ask without shame, because you just have to know, even if it hurts you.

"Oh, you know, he put on his usual 'Joel grumpy face' and walked out on me. But honestly, what did you expect?" she shrugs and continues, "So, if 'it's not like that'", she air-quotes you mockingly, "why don't you give Marcus a real chance? He's a good guy and I don't often say that," Trish points her finger at you.

"I'm sure he is Trish, but I can't."

"And why is that?"

"Because it's not honest."

"To whom?"

"To him."

"And..?" she presses you.

You close your eyes, because you really don't want to say it and it feels frustrating but comforting at the same time to have a friend who knows you so well. "And to my heart.", you mumble coyly.

"Oh, baby c'mere. You really like my stupid cousin, don't you?" Trish wraps her arms around your shoulders, squeezing you into a tight hug.

"No, I do not." It's more than that. "And don't push it any further, it's not happening.", it's your turn to point the finger at her.

"Ok.", she sighs troubled. "Ok, look at me and listen carefully.", she makes a serious face, holding your hands in hers as she begins. "Joel's my cousin and he is a good man and I love him, but he has his own issues to deal with-"

"What do you mean?" You interrupt her curiously. You never thought to ask about his past before, it seemed invasive.

"It’s not my place." she cuts you off with a guarded look that seems so foreign on her face and continues, "The point is, you cannot wait for him forever."

"I'm not-" you start to deny it, but Trish grabs your face in her palms, squeezing you gently to make her point and you stop mid-sentence.

"You deserve to be happy. And you can't miss something you've never had." her eyes bore into yours, full of care and concern.

Her last words strike you like a slap on the face.

Oh, but you can. You already are.

Another two weeks have passed and you still haven't heard from Joel. He's stuck in your head like a virus, unable to think of anything else. This is the longest you've gone without talking. It's taking its toll on you, making you fidgety and jumpy, irritated by the simplest things. You've reached your breaking point and you're ready to call him, just to see if he's OK.

And, if you're honest with yourself, to give him a chance to make a move. He might think you don't want him to reach out. That thought makes you even more angry, you sound so pathetic in your head, begging for a man's attention. A man who has never made his intentions clear. You should stand up for yourself, hold your own.

You're at the office, shuffling through your bag, looking for your phone, still debating whether to call him. As you reach deep into your bag, searching through the million things you stuff in there, you feel a hard, papery thing on your fingertips. You fish it out and see that it's Marcus' card. You don't even remember putting that thing in there. But you remember him giving it to you.

He was such a gentleman and so thoughtful that night. He didn't ask for your number and he didn't press to put his on your phone. He gave you his card, clearly stating that he hoped you would get in touch with him.

"..why don't you give Marcus a real chance?.."

You take a deep breath and unlock your phone.

"..You cannot wait for him forever.."

This is it.

"..You deserve to be happy.."

You're going to call him. Right now? Yes, right now.

He picks up after the third ring.

"Agent Pike.", his voice deep and smooth, runs like honey in your ears. You remember how much you liked the sound of it.

You’re taken aback for a moment, you'd almost forgotten what he did for a living. It was strange but interesting to hear him like that, it stirred something in you. "Uh- um-" you lose your train of thought for a second, "hi- I don't know if you rememb-"

Marcus says your name instantly, the surprise evident in his tone. "I was beginning to think you'd either lost my card or I'd made a terrible, terrible first impression on you," he says with a soft laugh, vulnerability coloring his voice.

"No, no, god- no, nothing like that.. It was really nice to meet you!" you reassure him, because it really was.

"Yeah, you too.." Marcus replies and you can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn't say anything else, giving you time to collect yourself.

"I just-" you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to freak out, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, you hadn't planned this, "I've been really busy, with work and the kids, I haven't had a chance to..." the words catch in your throat as you think of the real reason you've been busy.

Obsessing over unavailable men.

But you don't want to lie to Marcus, he's been so kind and open, so you pause, looking for a way out of the hole you've dug yourself into.

"Hey, it's OK," Marcus takes the lead, sensing your discomfort, "you didn't have to call, but I'm really glad you did. I thought about getting your details from Trish in case you lost my number, but then I didn't want to force you into anything in case you didn't lose my number, you know?" he laughs timidly.

"Yeah, I know; that is so thoughtful of you. I'm- I'm glad I called." It feels strange to admit something like that, something so small, to be honest, to be so open and talk about positive things, to make someone feel good with your words on a personal level. You've spent the last few years just doing it for your daughters, loving them, hyping them up, rooting for them, but it's a change that you welcome and you discover that you really, really missed it.

There's a short silence on the other end, which makes you feel anxious, so you decide not to bother him any more. "I'm sorry I called during office hours, I-"

"No, no, no, don't even think about it, there are no office hours at my line of work anyway, so.." Marcus rushes to put you at ease. "I was just wondering if I should ask you out or if I'm jumping the gun," he blurts out and you can feel his hesitation through the phone.

"Well," you try to lighten the mood, "you're the one asking questions for a living, so why don't you earn your keep?" you bite your lower lip in anticipation and then snicker to yourself. You hear Marcus laughing, amused and impressed by your little stunt, and you have a deep desire to hear it again, knowing that it's your doing.

Marcus is not one to shy away from a challenge, so he delivers quite brilliantly. "It would give me great pleasure if you would go out with me," he says your name softly at the end, "I know it can be tricky with the girls and work and all that, but I'm sure we could work something out; my office hours are very flexible," he informs you, cleverly covering all your possible obstacles.

"I thought you didn't have office hours..." you return playfully, feeling lighter already, the thought of Joel still lingering, but the pain of it fading in your heart.

"For you I do." Marcus deadpans with an amazing ability to not make it sound cheesy. And you know exactly what kind of ability it is.

The one of honesty.

Your heart is in your mouth. You're sure of it. You can taste your heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. As much as you've tried to play it down, you're nervous, your stomach is in knots. You spend most of the evening whining to Trish on the phone, freaking out about what to wear and ending up with a "What does it matter anyway? It's one date and that's it, he's not sticking around. Yeah, he's not. I'm good, I'm fine, this is fine." you shrug as you look at yourself in your bedroom mirror.

Trish's voice brings you back to reality, "None of that, everything's going to be fine, you're going to have a good time and you're going to keep having a good time." You looked sideways at the phone as if Trish could see you through it, glancing at the time. "Ok Trish, thanks for the pep talk, but I have to go or I'll be late."

"Sure thing babe, have a great night-"

"Thanks Trish-" you speak over her voice sure she's done with the pleasantries, but-

"-and don't forget to fuck 'im."

The line goes dead before you can reply.

Jesus Christ.

"You got this. You got this. You got this," you chant to yourself, pacing the living room, checking the time on your phone every thirty seconds. "Yeah," you exhale with nervous conviction, "you got this." The doorbell rings and your stomach clenches. Conviction my ass, "No, you don't." you mutter before rushing to answer the door.

Your heels click on the wooden floor and you pin the hem of your dress down once more, just to be sure. It wasn't terribly short, but still, you haven't dressed for a date in God knows how long.

You open the door and your breath catches in your throat. But you could say the same about Marcus. You look at one another for a moment, both admiring each other. He looks sharp, clean-shaven, with a prominent jawline that makes you want to suck on it from side to side.

His hair is combed back and slightly to the side. He looks so handsome and then he smiles at you. A real smile, big and toothy and bright and beautiful. His eyes crinkle and his plush lips stretch with the force of it. His suit is elegant and clean, neatly pressed, and the two top buttons of his shirt are undone, showing a hint of his tanned chest, making it more casual.

"Hey.." Marcus speaks first, pulling himself out of his haze. His eyes drink you in, unable to land on one spot, admiring your simple but elegant black dress that stops mid-thigh, the softness of your exposed skin, the curves of your body and the features of your face.

"Hi..." you say back shyly, noticing his admiration.

"I- Christ-", he stutters almost confused.

"What's wrong?" you fidget with the fabric of your dress, your nerves getting the better of you once again.

"I almost forgot how beautiful you are-" Marcus admits, his eyebrows raised, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. "-you look amazing," he compliments, raising his arm and pointing his open palm in your direction.

You pray that you can fast-forward to the actual date and stay right here on the threshold of your house at the same time. "Oh, thank you -" you reply quietly, with a shy smile on your lips.

"These-" Marcus raises his other hand, suddenly remembering what he's holding, "these are for you," he hands you a beautiful bunch of flowers, obviously made specifically for you by a florist, wrapped in a beautiful ribbon. What is it about this man that turns the most clichéd things into thoughtful actions?

"These are so beautiful, thank you, let me-" you point towards the house so you can put them in a vase, signaling him to come in with your head.

"Hope it's not too much..", Marcus wonders as he enters the hall of the house.

"It's perfect," you smile warmly as you return from the kitchen with the filled vase and place it on the entryway furniture, admiring the arrangement. You place the palm of your hand on his bicep, reassuring him as you turn to leave.

His eyes shine with appreciation as he takes your palm in his warm hand, planting a soft kiss on the pulse point of your wrist. His scent fills your nostrils, sweet and masculine, and you can almost smell his shampoo as he leans forward. Your lips part and your eyes widen at the intimate contact, but instead of feeling pressured, all you want is for him to do it again on any part of your skin he likes. His plush lips are warm and soft, leaving the slightest trace of moisture as they part your skin, sending a wave of shivers through your body.

You stifle a gasp but you can't hide the dilation of your irises and he can't hide the hunger behind his. He cups your cheek in his hand, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. "Ready?" he asks in a hushed tone.

"As I'll ever be."

The drive is bathed in bits of small talk and comfortable silence, appreciating each other's presence without having to fill the quiet of the cabin every second. Marcus' gaze is split between the road ahead and you at his side. He drives with one hand, his right resting comfortably on the gearbox.

God, you're such a cliché, noticing the way his broad palm rests there, the veins bulging between his fingers and on his hand and it makes you squirm in your seat. Your date hasn't even started yet and you're already feeling uncomfortable in your underwear. Are you that needy? Or is it him? Is he doing this to you?

Joel.

No, stop. Don’t think about him. Not right now. Stop.

Joel.

No.

Joel.

NO.

You don't realize you're holding your breath until Marcus is asking if you're all right.

"What?" you snap out of your haze, jerking your head to look at him. He looks worried, his forehead forming a deep crease between his eyebrows. "I lost you there for a minute, what happened?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'm fine."

"You don't gotta do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Say you're fine. You're allowed not to be."

You start to contradict him, but then you realize he's right.

"You're right," you admit, looking at him sheepishly. "I'm just nervous- and it's not your fault-" you hasten to explain, "I just haven't done this in so long that it feels like it's happening to someone else, like I'm watching myself from a distance."

He smiles at you knowingly and you add frustratedly, "That's so uncool, I'm sorry, I should be-"

"Moment of truth?" Marcus cuts you off before you can finish your thought.

"Um- OK?"

"I'm already hooked." he bites his lip, stealing a glance in your direction, his shoulders shrugging as if he had just told you the most natural thing in the world.

"Excuse m-" you look at him in bewilderment.

"I know I should play hard to get and do all the stuff everyone does on a first date, act cool and whatnot," he gestures in the air with his free hand, "but really? I'm hooked. Captivated. So-" he takes a deep breath, exhaling forcefully, "if anyone should be anything, it's me, scared that I'm going to screw this up, somehow. But you know what?" he looks at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

"What?" you manage to croak, your whole body buzzing with anticipation.

"I'm going to choose to enjoy this night by being myself-" he stops and scrunches his eyes in thought, "-well, ok, I'm going to hold back a bit," he jokes playfully, making you both laugh at that, relieving some of the tension and he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, "because I don't know if I'll get another chance. I can only hope that at the end of the night you'll choose to see me again."

He brings your intertwined hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles tenderly. He's said all the right things, everything you want to hear and dear God, he makes you want to climb him like a tree. You bite your lower lip so hard you're afraid you'll draw blood.

He studies your face and your fluttered expression for a moment, a smile of accomplishment painted on his perfect mouth, before he adds, "And you shouldn't be anything other than what you want to be. Neither of us should."

The date was not what you expected, because it was actually a success. Zero awkwardness, lots to talk about, mutual humor and gentle glances. You started with dinner in a not-too-casual-not-too-formal restaurant and ended up in a great bar, lively but not too loud, where you had delicious cocktails over and over again. Not Marcus though, because he was driving. So responsible, you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck.

Marcus was truly interested in you. He asked you about everything, he really wanted to know about your life. You didn't delve much into the divorce and he didn't push it. But you told him more about your background, your work, your daughters, the challenges of being a single mother and to your surprise, he listened. Actively. When you told him it was his turn to spill the beans, he told you about his job and his specialty; his move to Texas for a fresh start and when you asked him why he felt he needed one, he reluctantly told you about proposing to his girlfriend of two months.

"I know, I know-" he raises his hand in defence as he shakes his head in disbelief, "I don't know what the hell I was thinking, I guess-" he looks down at his empty glass as if searching for answers, "sometimes I have a hard time letting things go."

He dares to meet your eyes through his lashes, to study your reaction. But your expression is neutral, no judgment on your part. "But I'm working on it, letting things happen naturally, you know? If it's meant to be, it's meant to be." he shrugs casually.

"That must be hard for you to deal with." you observe.

"Why would you think that?" he seems curious to know what you think of him, smiling crookedly.

"You strike me as someone who really tries to work things out, to fix what's broken. You don't give up easily, do you?"

His eyes bore into yours as he confirms, "No, I don't," smirking at you. You break eye contact and look down at your lap, biting back a smile of your own.

Suddenly you hear your name being called and you scan the room to find the source. You see Tommy just a few meters away, coming towards you to say hello. Marcus looks between the two of you, his eyes finally landing on yours, catching your faltering smile. "Hey, Tommy, how are you?" you hug him gently and then introduce the two men.

"Hi, nice to meet you." Tommy holds out his hand as Marcus extends his own, "You too."

"Who's the lucky girl this time, Tommy?" you tease with a devilish grin as you wink at him.

"The lucky girl is actually my brother." Tommy laughs breathlessly and your face immediately falls as he points his thumb behind him.

Joel is there at the other end of the bar, sitting on a table, his gaze fixed on you, his whole posture stiff, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard on you. You raise your arm weakly and wave at him, and he nods back sternly.

Marcus misses absolutely none of this.

How long had they been there? How much did he see? Did you do anything inappropriate? you keep checking yourself for any flawed behavior. But then you realize that you don't have to answer to him or anyone else. You can do as you please. So why do you keep hoping you haven't let him down?

"You wanna join us? There's plenty of room, come on.", Tommy invites you to their table.

You feel your legs give out just at the thought of this gathering and you try to decline politely, "We wouldn't want to impose, it's OK-"

Tommy gives you a confused look, as if you haven't spent the best part of the last two years hanging out together. "What the hell are you talking about, love? Come on, move that ass of yours." he waves his head in their direction. You glance swiftly from Tommy to Marcus and then back to Tommy, hoping he'll get the message, but he doesn't. Damn it, Tommy.

Marcus notices your apprehension and puts the palm of his hand on your forearm, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"Are you OK? Do you want to go instead?" he says in a quiet voice, just for you to hear.

You almost jump at his suggestion, "No, no, I just don't want you to think I'm not having a good time with you…" you lower your eyes, feeling vulnerable.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Marcus lowers his head to meet your gaze, "I think I'd know if this date was going south. But if for some reason it is and I'm too smitten to see it, I'm all ears." Marcus searches your eyes and you shake your head with conviction.

"It's not," is all you say, and you lean forward to place a kiss on his cheek, on the side of his face that is hidden from Joel's inspection. As if that would make what you just did any less obvious. Marcus' lips part, and he turns his head sideways to look at your profile, almost brushing it with his own.

His eyes linger on your mouth as you lean back to your seat, and then he licks his lower lip like a starving man preparing for his favorite meal. "Let's go meet your friends before I do something impulsive," he whispers in your ear, his grip on your arm tightening, his nose pressing against your temple and his lips brushing your earlobe.

Goosebumps spread across your skin and you have half a mind to get the fuck out of here and drag him back to your house. But instead you giggle like a schoolgirl and lead the way to hell, feeling the warmth of his hand on your lower back and the moisture of your pussy running down your thigh.

If a person could combust out of stillness, it would be Joel. You're not even sure he's breathing at this point. You train your eyes on his chest, trying to follow the rise and fall of his rib-cage, just to make sure he doesn't faint.

He's sitting directly opposite you, next to his brother, who's sitting opposite Marcus. He's nursing a beer with one hand, the other behind Tommy's seat. He barely speaks to you, he avoids looking at you and that makes you feel like you’re doing something wrong and he's giving you the cold shoulder. It takes everything you've got to swallow the lump in your throat and the tears behind your eyes, but you do it.

The same waitress who took your previous orders comes back and asks what you and Marcus are having. You order a beer, and before Marcus can place his own, Joel spits, "If you're driving her back, you shouldn't be drinking," giving him a disapproving look.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, your eyes dart from the waitress to Joel and then to Marcus, ready to apologize on his behalf. You knew Joel could be abrasive, but never so blatantly rude. Those were the first words he said to him.

Jesus, what is his problem?

Marcus seems to be able to handle his own, answering to you instead of Joel without missing a beat. "Good to know you have such protective friends," he says with a twinkle in his eye and then he orders, "I'll have the same as before, thank you.", shifting his gaze to the waitress. "One soda with a slice of orange coming up," she says politely and leaves to get your drinks.

You glare at Joel, but he doesn't seem to be paying attention, although he flinched almost imperceptibly when he heard Marcus' choice of drink. Marcus gives you a gentle kiss on the temple and you begin to suspect that he knows exactly what's going on between you and Joel, whose jaw is twitching at the sight of Marcus' public display of affection towards you.

You envy Tommy at the moment because he seems blissfully unaware, so you turn the conversation to him. Or at least you try, because as soon as you open your mouth to speak, Joel cuts you off and asks Marcus what he does for a living.

You can't help but think that after your first meeting in that god’s forsaken bar, it took him months to strike up a conversation with you, but tonight, for some reason, he just can't seem to shut up.

Marcus, being as polite as ever, gives him the general answer that he works for the government.

"Ah, a white collar," Joel replies condescendingly and your eyes bulge out of their sockets, "must be nice, relaxed." still not looking at you and God does he tick you off. Tommy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stealing glances at you, not sure what's going on. In any other case you would have found it endearing. Not so much now.

You too are squirming in your seat, trying to think of a way out of this awkward situation. This is not how you imagined your first date would end. And it's certainly not how you expected to meet Joel after all these weeks.

Marcus seems unfazed by the veiled hostility coming his way, smiling back at Joel, almost enjoying the antagonism. "Not necessarily, but I can't talk about it either." This catches Joel's attention and he looks at you questioningly for the first time. You tilt your head slightly to the side, signaling what are you doing? but Joel takes his eyes off you, sipping his beer nonchalantly.

"What about you? What do you do for a living?" Marcus returns the question.

"We're contractors, me and Joel; we're brothers," he gestures between himself and Joel, "and we work together." Tommy chimes in quickly, having reached his limit of awkwardness at the table. You breathe a sigh of relief, but it's not long lived.

"And how do you all know each other?" is the next natural question to come out of Marcus' mouth.

Joel's eyes land on you briefly, something flashes past them and before you can stop him-

"She and I actually met in a bar..." Joel smirks at Marcus, but you speak at the same time-

"Joel-" Your voice is firm as a warning, fully accepting that your tone might be alarming to your unsuspecting company.

"What?" Tommy's voice falters, laughing uncomfortably, completely at a loss. Marcus reads the table, his eyes darting between the three of you, at the same time placing a protective hand over your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

"What?" Joel repeats in a different tenor to his brother and he shrugs, smiling, "It's no big deal, tell them," he has the audacity to put you on the spot, nodding his chin at you.

You feel the contents of your stomach move up your esophagus, cold sweat coats your skin in a thin layer. Betrayal. That's all you can think of. "Uh-", you try to find the words, but nothing comes out, betrayal, you're not good at it, lying doesn't come easy to you, betrayal, especially with three sets of eyes on you. Joel just sits there with a smug look on his face and you wish you had the guts to slap it out of him.

Betrayal.

Marcus' voice brings you back to the present, are you all right?, a soft whisper caresses your ear and soothes your insides. The bile in your throat begins to return to its rightful place, but your eyes are already moist, your waterline glassy, a look of defeat and disappointment painted on your soft face. Joel sees it all written on those contours of yours that he has come to know and marvel at from afar, and it is as if a sudden realization hits him, snapping him out of his asshole behavior. He is cruel to you.

"All right, all right," he rolls his eyes and continues with a sigh, and Tommy's eyes return to his brother, but Marcus' remains fixed on you. "We met in a bar and we had a heated..." he stops abruptly and your face takes on a look of horror as he searches for the right word. "...argument." Joel finally adds. "We exchanged a few words, but then we ran into each other at my cousin's house and the rest is history." he laughs as he waves his hand in the air and winks at you.

You bite your lower lip as hard as you can to keep your chin from trembling, but a single tear of relief or suppressed anger, you're not sure anymore, escapes from the side of your face that only Joel can see, as you give him a forced, watery smile.

Luckily the bar is dimly lit, otherwise they would all be able to see the redness spreading across your chest, the rage manifesting itself on your body. Used and played is how you feel, and Joel is the last person you would have thought would put you in this position. You'd bet all your money on it.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Tommy wonders aloud, looking between you and Joel. You clear your throat and have no choice but to confirm Joel's lie. "It felt awkward at the time, so we pretended we didn't know each other. It was an unfortunate moment, one I deeply regret," you lock eyes with Joel and see his facade almost crumbling, "that will never recur, ever again." you continue to stare at him as you speak the last words with concealed bitterness. For the first time that night, he looked down at his lap in shame and regret, pretending to peel the label off his bottle with his thumb.

The ride home was silent, you were emotionally drained, something Marcus picked up on easily, so he simply offered his open palm, which you gladly accepted, tucking your fingers between his own. He continued to caress your skin, back and forth, and it was all you needed to calm your nerves.

As he walked you to the front door of your house, you felt compelled to apologize to him in a profound way. "I'm so sorry about Joel," you shake your head, looking down at your feet, your fingers scratching your forehead, a worried look on your face, "he can be intense sometimes -" why are you defending him?

Marcus lifts your chin with a gentle finger under it, his thumb caressing your jawline. "I don't care about Joel." With one simple sentence, he has erased him from your conversation. No more room for him to steal any longer of your night with Marcus.

“But-”

“I'm the one standing on your porch right now am I not?”, the implication clear in his voice and words.

“I'm not sure what-” you try to avoid confirming or denying his assumptions.

"Mhm," he smiles knowingly, his eyes fixed on yours, searching for something. You feel safe with him, but you can't shake the feeling that you've ruined everything. Marcus' eyes drop to your lips and he slowly leans forward, stopping just inches from you, waiting for you to initiate. You can feel yourself unable to relax, your body stiff, frozen. But you want to, you really do, so you ask instead, "Are you going to do something impulsive now?"

He smiles and leans even closer to your lips, his breath gently fanning across your plump skin. His nose gently nudges yours, "Yes, I think I might."

Your lips almost touch when a muffled voice followed by loud barks startles you both, causing you to pull away and look around for the source of the disruption. After a few seconds, you both see a medium-sized dog running down the street. You wait to see if its owner follows, but no one appears. You turn to look at each other, giggling at the strange interruption.

Marcus caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckles and you lean into his touch, the moment gone and lost. "I hope you had a decent time because I know I had a great one and I really hope I get to see you again."

"Marcus," you scowl at him, "are you fishing for compliments?" you chastise him teasingly.

"Well, a man can dream," he smirks playfully as he tries to get some distance between you in case he comes on too strong.

"You don't have to," you coo, grabbing his collar to crush your lips against his.

After the initial shock, Marcus holds your head in his hands, tilting it to return the kiss and deepen it. His soft lips massage yours, sucking and nibbling at your lower lip. His upper lip and tongue capture yours, tugging gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He licks into your mouth, exploring every soft cavity, and you suck on his tongue in return.

He grunts into your welcoming cavern and you fist the fabric of his shirt that adorns his chest tighter. He presses his body into yours, trying to keep his pelvic area from pressing into your lower abdomen, but you can feel his growing erection inescapably.

You come up for air and murmur into his mouth, "I had a great time and I'd like to do it again".

This time it is he who presses his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently, sucking all the air out of your lungs. Your body is on fire, your abdomen tingling with desire.

You whimper against his lips as you reach for the short curls at the back of his neck, tugging them gently between your fingers, causing him to growl against your wet flesh, and he can feel your nipples poking at his chest through the thin material of your dress as you press your torso against his in sheer determination.

He's sure he's going to lose it and fuck you in front of your house for all your neighbors to see if he doesn't stop now. He breaks the kiss, panting, his eyes boring into yours, your foreheads touching. "Christ, woman," he closes his eyes and laughs to himself, "you're going to give me a heart attack."

"Better me than old age, right?" you try to hide your teasing smile behind your tightly pressed lips.

"Hey, I'm about to arrest you for threatening a government official," he warns without any conviction or authority.

"Are you going to handcuff me, Agent?" you ask, looking at him through your lashes and it comes out more breathless than it should.

"Jesus." Marcus mutters through his teeth, his resolve hanging by a thread. "OK." he gives you a sharp look, "I'm going to leave for the sake of both of us," he says, but his grip on your hip tightens, as if he's afraid you'll disappear.

"You could come in, you know," you offer, looking at him sheepishly.

His expression is pained when he has to turn you down. "And I'd like nothing more, but I want to do this right. Please, let me do this right." Marcus pleads softly, rolling his forehead over yours in desperation.

"What does that even mean?" you ask, a bit embarrassed by his rejection.

"Means I want to wine and dine you, spoil you, give you the perfect date," he coos into the soft skin beneath your ear, making you shudder at his soft promise. "And when you think you can't go another second without my touch, then I'll come in and spoil you some more," he continues, brushing his moist lips along the pillar of your neck. "I will spoil you in all the ways you deserve." he finishes, planting an open-mouthed kiss on your pulse point under your jaw. Your knees buck and your pussy contracts, squeezing out your sweetness at the feel of his warm and wet tongue.

"OK," you breathe out in a shaky voice, nodding dumbly, cupping his face in your hands and planting a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

He smiles and presses his lips to your forehead murmuring "God, you're something," and his heart swells at your tender gesture.

Marcus takes a deep breath, pauses and seems hesitant, but speaks his mind anyway. "OK, I'm going to skip the whole 'three day rule' and call you tomorrow. Is that OK?" he looks anxiously into your eyes, "Am I rushing you?"

A spontaneous laugh escapes your lips at the sound of that. "I just invited you into my house, you think a phone call is going to rush me?" you frown, "You can call me whenever you want.", you say matter of factly. You turn to leave, but change your mind and face him again. "Actually," you bite your lip mischievously, "I need to make sure I can rely on the American authorities, so I'm counting on your word. I'll be expecting a call by tomorrow," you stifle a grin by pressing your lips together.

"Yes, ma'am." Marcus nods in amusement and gives you one last kiss, pressing his lips to yours for as long as he can before ushering you into the house. "Good night," he breathes against your lips.

"Good night," you whisper back with a shy smile and close the door behind you. Marcus walks to his car with a stupid grin plastered on his face, gets in and drives away, but not before making sure you have closed and locked your front door.

In the stillness of the night, Joel takes a moment to assess the situation and satisfied that the coast is clear, he carefully emerges from the large bush he was hiding behind.

He glances down at his dog pissed shoe and mutters to himself,

"Fuck."

previous |

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55sturn · 7 months

Text

✮ SWALLOWIN’ MY PRIDE

series masterlist!

pairing: boston bruins player!chris sturniolo x fem!reader!

synopsis: in which chris is forced to swallow his pride as he comes to terms with the new that y/n has shared, realizing it’s not just her fault. however when he mentions the alternatives, he fails to see how much it hurts his girlfriend.

warnings: swearing, angst, chris not wanting a kid, verbal arguments, big talks about abortions and giving the kid up for adoption, mentions and descriptions of vomiting, a loooot of angst tbh.

important things to note: this is a heavy chapter so please keep that in mind if you choose to keep reading, i’ve done my part and have warned you about what this chapter entails so please do yours and close out of this fic if you cannot handle those topics. i am not your mother i cannot stop you, but if you choose to keep going despite being uncomfortable with the things i’ve warned you about, you are not allowed to get upset with anyone but yourself. enjoy<3

THIRD PERSON POV

chris was left utterly speechless as he stared at the thin plastic stick in his hand. the only thing running through his mind, was “what am i going to do? i just signed the contract today?” he felt guilty being so absorbed in his doubts about his career but it was something he had worked for his entire life. he knew his concerns were selfish, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop worrying about them.

the words “we’re pregnant, chris.” rang in his ears like a bell chiming, he felt his breath get stuck in his throat and he wasn’t able to breathe. he quickly shifted y/n off his lap so he could begin pacing, he held his head in his hands as his skates clunked against the padded locker room floor.

“what the fuck are we going to do y/n?” chris spits, his voice broken and unsteady as he looks at his girlfriend, her eyes red with unshed tears as she shook her head softly and shrugged.

“i don’t know chris.”

“why weren’t you careful?” chris exclaims, unintentionally putting all the blame on her as her head snaps up, her brows furrowed tightly as she breathes out a listless laugh.

“how is this all my fault?”

“i’m not saying it’s your fault. but why didn’t you just get an abortion?”

“in case you forgot what you were taught in fifth grade health class, it takes two people to make a baby, chris. you were the one that wanted to hit it raw and you promised to pull out but clearly you didn’t. and i didn’t want to abort it without your input because this child is half of you, too. and i would not be able to sit through that alone!“ she scoffs, tears dripping down her cheeks as she stares up at him, guilt and regret chipping away at the slight glimmer of hope that chris would be okay with it that she held.

“i just signed a good contract baby, i can’t miss my games for this shit.” chris sighs, his heart rate slowing down, but his mind was still racing, leaving him blind to the internal battle his girlfriend was facing.

he felt sick, he had everything mapped out for the next five years and this baby completely threw a wrench in everything that he had meticulously planned. there was no way a baby this early in his career would look good, it’d make him look reckless and uncaring about his job.

“do you not think i’ve been thinking about that, chris? that’s the only thing i’ve been thinking about since i found out or even had the slightest idea i was pregnant, i have been terrified of derailing the life plans you’ve set up for yourself and i don’t know what the fuck to do but what i do know, is that we’re pregnant and we have to make a decision about this. so until you’ve processed this, you can stay with one of your brothers, i will be waiting at home.” y/n replies, her voice gradually getting quieter and breaking even more as she finishes. wiping her tears, she quickly exists the room, the need to vomit overcoming her.

her mind wouldn’t stop racing. it brought every possible scenario to the surface and she was beyond scared. what was she going to do? chris sure as hell didn’t seem to want the baby, and she thought she didn’t either but talking about it to chris had her realizing that she wants a family more than anything.

as she knelt in front of the toilet, she couldn’t help but laugh internally. finding out you’re expecting a child was supposed to be a joyous and happy time. finding out that you’re carrying a life that is half of yourself and the person you’re in love with, the person you’re fully committed to for life, was supposed to have you feeling over the moon. and instead, it had y/n’s stomach twisting with guilt, regret, heartache, and distress.

ash she wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet, she sat on the edge of it, letting her tears fall as she let the feelings of hopelessness and loss fully consume her heart. would she really see this pregnancy to term if chris didn’t want anything to do with her and the baby? if she did, would she let chris back into her life when he decides he wants a family? or would he seek a family somewhere else?

“how the fuck am i going to survive this without him?” she whispered to herself, quickly exiting the public washroom and making a beeline for the front entrance.

chris on the other hand, was stoic as he stared at the wall opposite of him, the thin plastic stick beside him taunting him and his mind, almost as if it was telling him that he was acting selfishly. instead of comforting his girlfriend, who was as equally terrified of their recent news as chris, if not more? he blamed her. he yelled at her.

he callously told her to abort their baby to be. to get rid of the life growing inside her as if it meant nothing. as if it wasn’t the product of two people that loved each other deeply. even if it wasn’t planned or considered, that child to be was still the result of chris and y/n’s love. of the fact that they held each other so closely that they made love without any preventative measures. but chris couldn’t look at it that way, he didn’t want to.

his focus was on his career, hockey was everything to him. it made him everything he is. but was hockey really the only thing that mattered to chris? as he mulled over the answer, images of y/n sobbing as she held the freshly positive test, of her sobbing and scared in front of him waiting for him to pull her into his arms in the middle of that locker room flash through his mind. he felt guilty, he hadn’t even hugged her as she sobbed, he so badly wishes he could rewind the clock a few minutes so he could react differently but he couldn’t.

he knew he wanted a family at some point in his life, but now? it was so early. he wanted to bask in all the glory of being the newest and youngest star on the bruins without the responsibilities of his personal life hanging over his head. but that wasn’t possible.

as his team made their way down the hall, chris shoved the test into the side pocket of his hockey bag and plastered a fake smile on his face. the team cheered and hollered as they had won the game. chris joined in on the festivities, briefly forgetting the decision he had to make as the team got dressed in their suits and dress clothes, deciding to hit the bar in the lounge above the rink nd celebrate their win and landing bracket in the playoffs.

y/n was in the complete opposite state, she sat at the table, the meal she had prepped hours ago as soon as she got home after leaving the game early sat on the table in front of her. it had grown cold and stale as she tried to bring the urge to eat to life but she couldn’t bear the thought of choking back her food. she hated eating without chris. she knew he wasn’t going to join her after she told him to stay with one his brothers, but out of pure muscle memory she made a plate for him and it sat across the table from her, taunting her, as if to say “this is what your future will look like if chris decides he doesn’t want the baby.” and it broke her heart into a million shards.

could she really handle a life without him? they’ve been together for so long as it is. was it worth it to go through everything that they have already, just for a child to tear them apart? she didn’t know the answer to that and she didn’t want to. she hoped that somehow, chris’ mind would change and he would have this great epiphany and realize he wants this, the family life with y/n.

she knew how important this spot on the bruins’ team was to chris, she knew that more than anybody else. but was it more important than a life with the woman he called his soulmate? was his career more important to him than his relationship?

y/n, truthfully, had began to believe it was. he would call off dates and anniversary dinners to go hang out with the team, he would come home late the nights he promised to be home early. he put so much of their time together on the back burner, and maybe this child was the wake-up call she needed. maybe she wasn’t cut out for the life of dating a superstar hockey player.

sighing, she cleared the plates off, putting the leftovers in an air-tight container and leaving them for her or, hopefully, chris to eat another day. she quickly loaded the dishwasher and started it before cleaning the rest of the kitchen. as she had finished, she flicked off the main kitchen light, leaving the light above the stove on so that when chris came home, if he had made up his mind yet, he wouldn’t be surrounded by complete darkness. but she knew in the back of her mind, chris coming home tonight was just wishful thinking.

as she laid in bed, she scrolled through instagram, chris’ story updates catching her eye. pressing down on his profile circle surrounded by a pinkish purple ring, she was met with the sight of chris and john shot gunning beer in their suits, leaving her slightly hurt that instead of talking about things with her or his brothers he chose to party with his team. she knew that making an appearance at the after parties was important, she had just hoped their situation was more important. but refusing to let herself dwell on what she meant to chris, she rolled over and willed herself to sleep.

it had been a few days since her confession to chris and she had yet to hear even just a single word from him. and the silence was killing her. after her doctors appointment, which confirmed that she was in fact two months along, she had received texts of congratulations and more from his family so she assumed he had said something and maybe he wasn’t completely ashamed of what was happening, but she had a gnawing feeling of doubt in her stomach telling her that wasn’t the case.

“matt i don’t know what to think.” chris sighed, looking to his more level-headed brother for advice in this situation.

“well chris, do you really want her to abort it? like can you live with the fact that you’re putting her through that, you know that she’s completely all for it, but it’s different when it’s the one going through it. so would you be able to live with the fact that you’re pushing her to take away this chance, both of yours and hers, at a family right now?”

“well when you put it that way-“

“and who’s to say that you won’t be looking at having a family the same way down the line if, let’s say, she aborts the baby now and this entire thing happens again? would you put her through it twice? when you could just as easily implement all the later plans with your career that included a family into your plans for now. it would be much easier to maneuver things around right because the ink on your contract has barely dried yet. you do it later down the line and shit could go up in flames. but if you’re still dead set on pushing her to an abortion, by all means do it. it’s up to you man but from the way you’ve talk about it, y/n wants to have a family so what you’re doing is most likely killing her, and if you pushing her to do this wrecks your relationship, you won’t find another girl to love you the way she does. and i know you didn’t actually ask for it, but my opinion is that you’re being a fucking idiot. you and i both know that all you’ve wanted with y/n is to raise a family. you talked about your future kids’ names with her two months into the start of your relationship. so i’m not sure why you’re doing all this shit, chris.” matt rambled, his words cutting directly into the flesh of chris’ heart, he knew matt was right. every word he spoke nothing but truth clinging to it. so why was he putting both him and y/n, mainly y/n, through all of this? sighing, chris nodded and thanked him for the advice before plucking his keys off the counter of matt’s kitchen before heading out the door and climbing into his car.

chris made quick work of driving home to y/n, he felt so unbelievably guilty for leaving her alone with her thoughts for as long as he had. as he stepped into their shared home, he felt like an intruder, he didn’t feel like himself, because in what world would chris, the same chris who is so unbelievably and irrevocably in love with y/n, push her to terminate their child? chris should’ve been ecstatic and sobbing over the news. instead he let his job cloud his judgement and focus, and he felt terrible.

“baby?” chris calls out, quickly climbing the entryway stairs and standing in the main hallway, waiting for y/n to answer.

“in here.” she calls back, her voice tired and strained from all the crying she had done. as chris rounds the corner into their room, his heart breaks at the sight of her curled up on his side of the bed in his hoodie.

“i am so sorry y/n, i’ve been an asshole.”

“i’ll say.” she whispers, shifting back to her side of the bed as chris climbs in beside her.

“i want to apologize for blaming you, it’s not your fault. and for suggesting an abortion without actually hearing what you want. if you want one, i’ll support you. i talked to matt and he made me realize what a jackass i’ve been. if you genuinely want this baby, then i do too. i love you, and i want you to be safe and happy. and if having a family makes you happy, then i’m willing to raise this baby with you because in all honesty, i do want this baby.”

“what about your career?”

“we’ll figure that out when we need to.”

“okay. i love you.”

“i love you forever and a day, y/n. i’m so sorry i’ve been so shitty, i was scared and lashed out on you when i should’ve acknowledged that you were scared too, i shouldn’t have let you deal with it on your own.” chris hums, wrapping his arms around her as she dries her tears and rest her head against his chest.

taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @strawberrysturniolo @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @carolsturns1 @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @cutenote @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @33sturniolo @heartz4chris @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi

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rogersideup · 7 months

Text

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini ♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 3

Expendable

Series Masterlist

Previous part: wine and dine next part: pink peonies

Word Count 5,333

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions and descriptions of sexual acts.

Standing in front of a human shaped dummy in the private training room, Steve was showing you all the best ways to direct an attack to assure your opponent goes down, and stays down.

After your mission and injury, Steve was out for a few days on a business trip the same day that you were medically cleared to get back to work. So, it had been a while since the last time you trained together.

You both decided it was a good idea to just take it easy and review what you already know as a means of studying for your final evaluation coming up.

Every agent had to take a final evaluation upon completing every single training course shield had to offer. It was a big deal, and though nobody had any doubts that you were ready for it, it could never hurt to review and improve.

"Knock knock, bitches." Bucky announced, causing both of you to stop.

"Hey, Bucky boy" You greeted him.

"What's going on, Buck?" Steve questioned.

"I dunno, I'm bored." He shrugged. "Can I just sit and watch?"

"Don't you have work to do?" You asked with a giggle.

"I finished!" He defended himself. "You two get to spend so much time without me, it's only fair I get to insert myself here whenever I want to."

"You act like this is personal and not us doing our jobs" Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

"That's a technicality I'm choosing to ignore." Bucky sat on the ground with his back against the wall.

Steve looked at you to make sure it was okay that he sat and watched, but he caught something he wished he hadn't. Just for a split second, you narrowed your eyes at Bucky, and he gave you a very subtle nod back.

He realized that it very well could've been nothing, but it definitely seemed like it was something.

Though Steve didn't bring it up at all, he made mental note of it. He was confident in his deep knowledge of both of his friend's behavior, and he was choosing to trust his gut on that observation.

The rest of your time together, Bucky sat and watched quietly, only occasionally responding to conversations that would break out that weren't work related. Towards the end, Steve wanted to confirm some scheduling, so he cut the physical work a few minutes early.

He sat on the bench with you as you pulled a sweatshirt over your head, and your everyday sneakers onto your feet.

"Okay, so, your final evaluation is one week from today." Steve noted. "So this week will be really simple, we can keep doing this, just reviewing what we've already been over. But our training together is still supposed to run until the end of the month so we have three extra weeks together."

"What am I supposed to do when this ends?! I'll be so bored without you!" You exclaimed.

Steve chuckled. "You should be happy that you survived my course!"

"I mean I am, but then what?"

"Maybe another Avenger will take you under their wing." Steve shrugged.

"I can only think of one Avenger with wings" you noted.

"What do you want to cover in the three weeks together after your evaluation?" He asked.

Your lips formed into a pout. "I know what it should be, but I don't wanna do it"

"Restraints?" Steve questioned sympathetically.

"Restraints... I guess." You grumbled.

Every fighter had a weak spot. Just one thing that made their stomachs turn and their hearts race, something that really scared them regardless of mental work or preparation. Some people couldn't handle heights, didn't do very well when they saw blood, and really freaked out over handling certain weapons.

You just happened to be terrified of being restrained, which unfortunately was a very plausible situation to find yourself in as an agent. There was no reason why you were terrified of it, nothing happened in your life to make you fear it as much as you did. But the thought of having your hands or legs tied made you feel claustrophobic in a way you couldn't even describe using words.

"It'll be scary at first, but we'll work on it" Steve reassured. "Wouldn't you rather learn how to get out of any sort of restraint with someone you trust then find yourself in a situation where you're tied up at the hands of an enemy with no way out?"

"Logically yes, but in reality I would like neither of those things to happen." You responded with a twinge of sarcasm.

Steve laughed, "okay well, I wouldn't like that to happen to you either! But once you learn how to escape from a bunch of different scenarios, you won't be scared of it anymore. Knowledge is power!"

"I know you didn't just knowledge is power me, you loser!" You joked with a snort.

"Oh I certainly did, and I'll do it again." He stated with a smile. "Confidently!"

"Okay, I guess I trust you enough to teach me." You committed to the endeavor.

"Good job, pushing yourself is how you grow better as a fighter." Steve praised your bravery. "We'll start with the easiest and work our way up to the hardest, then you'll be such a pro at it that nothing could ever hold you back."

"Yeah, yeah." You playfully rolled your eyes.

"Then after our training together is officially over, I'm going to block off my schedule these same two hours every day to just cry." Steve put a hand over his heart.

"Can you do that to my schedule too? Maybe we can cry together?"

"I'll see what I can do." Steve agreed, before opening his arms up for a hug. You happily hugged him back. "Good job today! You're going to do great on your assessment no matter who is assigned to asses you. We all know it."

"Thanks for teaching me!" You smiled. "In all seriousness, I've really enjoyed getting to learn from you. Thanks for all the time you've put onto me."

"Anytime, Bug. I've been enjoying it just as much." Then Steve turned to include Bucky in their conversation. "What are you guys up to for the rest of the day?"

"Nothing, well, I think that's pretty obvious considering I'm just sitting here" Bucky shrugged. "Do you guys want to hang out? Maybe we can walk to that cool park a few blocks from here? Watch the sunset and get some fresh air?"

"That sounds good to me." Steve agreed. "Buggy, you in?"

Both boys watched as you stood up and slipped your gym back onto your shoulder. "As fun as that sounds, I can't. You know Agent 563? We made plans to have an early dinner together so I have to get ready to leave here soon."

"Booooo, buzz kill!" Bucky announced dramatically.

"That doesn't mean you can't go on a cute little sunset date with your boyfriend without me, Bucky." You smiled at him. "By all means, you boys have fun."

"I think that's great." Steve told you, ignoring the boyfriend comment. "563 is a great agent, and I think it's important that you girls stick together.

"Lord knows we need some time away from the amount of testosterone in this place." You agreed.

“Even me?" Bucky pouted.

"Even you." You smiled at him, approaching him for a hug that you had to bend over pretty far to get. "And Steve. I love you both, but I need to interact with other people than just you two!"

"Hey! I only talk to you and Steve and I'm doing just fine" Bucky defended himself.

"What about Natasha?" Steve wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at him.

"Don't bring up Natas-" Bucky started passionately

"I'm leaving!" You announced before an argument broke out. "Love you boys! Have fun on your date! I hope you hold hands and kiss each other's foreheads!"

Steve and Bucky stared at each other as you walked out of the room. The door closed behind you, and your foot steps faded until completely inaudible to either of their heightened ears.

"Why are you actually here, Buck?" Steve asked.

"You're in love with her." He claimed deadpan.

Steve's heart sank, but controlled himself the best he could as to not bluff. "Why would you say that?"

"I figured it out last night." Bucky admitted. "I was trying to sleep but my brain wouldn't turn off. I was thinking about the dynamic of our little friend group and it hit me like a train. I had to come confirm it with my own eyes."

Steve puffed out a performative chuckle and put his hands on his hips. "You understand how crazy that sounds, right?"

"Is it though?" Bucky raised an eyebrow while standing up from his spot on the floor. "I never noticed it until today. Your eyes physically twinkle when you look at her. Your cheeks have been pink since I got here, and you never stopped smiling until she left the room. Encouraging, sweet, considerate..."

"It's my job to be encouraging towards her, Buck. I'm her boss." Steve huffed, feeling annoyed and attacked by this conversation.

"Why won't you admit it?" He asked.

Steve stopped in place and noted Bucky's furrowed brows. "Wait, why do you seem so upset about this?"

"I'm not upset." Bucky denied, shaking his head. "But if you're actually pining after her, Punk..."

"What?" Steve's heart was pounding.

"Do you like her?" Bucky asked one more time, his tone was nothing but serious. His face was stone cold.

"I'm her boss." Steve slumped. "There's a power imbalance, I can't break her trust."

"And if she joins the Avengers?" His head tilted.

"She just got out of a relationship."

"It's already been a month since then." Bucky insisted. "Steve, this is between me, you, and the grave. I'm serious."

Steve threw his head back with a groan. It had been a while since he had seen Bucky this worked up about anything, so he knew it was important. But getting the admission to slip past his tongue felt morally wrong and partially impossible.

"Steve."

"Yes." He said simply, staring up at the ceiling.

"How long?"

"How long what?" Steve sighed.

"How long have you had feelings for her?"

"Since the day I met her..." Steve mumbled.

"Oh my-"Bucky rubbed his face with his hand before running his hand through his hair. "You hid it too well."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve froze up as his mind ran laps around Bucky's behavior. He already knew what was coming before he could admit to it.

"You're going to hate us, but I need to tell you something..." Bucky said apologetically.

Meanwhile, you were having a fantastic time with Agent 563, Clara. Though the two of you were friendly around the compound, you never had the chance to actually sit and have a long conversation with her before. Both of you getting the chance to vent about the workplace environment and culture to someone who actually understood what it was like to experience it in the unique way you did was refreshing to say the least.

After dinner neither of you were ready to end the conversation there, so you grabbed ice cream on the way back, and walked the whole way home together. At a certain point, work was a topic long forgotten as you two bonded over other similar interests like movies, hobbies, family, you two even shared the same love for video games.

By the time you made it back to your apartment, there was a smile on your face and a lightness to your heart you hadn't felt in a while. It was obvious that work was making you feel heavy and alone for a while, but you didn't realize how bad it actually was until you got away from it.

That smile was wiped off your face when you opened the door to Steve sitting on your couch with a stiffness in his body and an anger on his face you had never seen before.

"Hey, are you alright?" You immediately asked as his head snapped over to you the second the door opened.

Alarm bells were instantly ringing. Your heart dropped into your stomach, and raced with a speed you didn't quite know was possible.

You had given Steve and Bucky a key to your place just like you had keys to theirs, but the three of you typically hung out at Steve's place. Either of them coming to your apartment was a rare occurrence, and them ever using your key was even more rare.

Steve watched you kick off your shoes and hang up your purse, he felt so many emotions all at once that he couldn't even begin to get the words out.

You hesitantly approached, he still didn't answer. "What's wrong?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Steve questioned. His tone very obviously gave away his state of emotion, it only made you feel more anxious.

You had a suspicion what this was about, but number one rule as an agent was to never incriminate yourself. "Tell you what?"

"Don't do that with me." Steve denied. "Bucky already told me. I don't understand why you guys would do that and keep it from me."

Your posture slumped knowing that this reaction was exactly why you and Bucky decided to keep a dirty little secret from Steve. So you sat down on an armchair next to the couch he sat on so you could explain.

But, he didn't even give you a chance to defend yourself before he spoke again. "Did either of you even consider how hooking up with each other would affect me?"

"Hey now, let's get some facts straight." You didn't let him go any further. "I feel like the term hooking up is giving what we did way more credit than what it was worth, and yes, we did consider you, which is why we both agreed we weren't going to tell you."

"Great, thank you so much for the consideration. That makes me feel really secure in my friendships with both of you!" Steve said sarcastically, feeling betrayed and admittedly heartbroken beyond words.

"Wait" You shook your head. "I know that sounds bad, but you have to understand that we all have different morals and personal opinions when it comes to sex and we knew you wouldn't understand."

"What is there to not understand?" He questioned. "You two had sex with no regard to how it would effect our friendships with each other."

"First of all, it wasn't sex, there was no penetration." You corrected. "Second of all, we didn't think it would effect our friendships because that's all we are to each other."

"I don't care about the details or what actually went down between you. Had either of you told me you liked each other from the get go it wouldn't have been a problem. I would've been happy for you two." He grumbled.

"We don't like each other." You denied. "We were just at the right place at the right time, things moved fast, and that's that. There's no romance happening, nothing to make social group weird. We all know Bucky likes Natasha."

"Well it's weird now." Steve glared at you.

"What do you want me to do now? It already happened, I can't go back and change it." You noted. "Want me to suck your dick too and call it even?"

"This isn't funny and I really don't appreciate that comment." He scoffed.

"It wasn't weird for you until Bucky opened his mouth, huh?" You asked him. "Was it weird for you two weeks ago when it actually happened?"

"I don't care." He swallowed thickly.

Feeling quite taken back by his behavior, and a little more that a little annoyed that Bucky spilled the beans, your attitude came out. "I'm a grown woman capable of making grown choices, and I don't owe you an explanation of what I choose to do with my body, Steve."

"No, you don't." He agreed, but you made him snap. "But I'm feeling betrayed and disrespected by the two of you, and that, I do feel like I'm owed an explanation for."

"Are you mad at Bucky too?" You snapped right back. "Huh? Did you yell at him?"

"He told me the truth." Steve rationalized.

"Yeah, well I never lied to you." You pointed out. "And why did Bucky feel the need to tell you what we did privately? Huh? Do you feel like I'm allowed to feel betrayed and disrespected for him going against our word?"

"I'm not here to tell you how to feel. I'm here to try and rationalize any of the choices we're making right now." He raised his voice. "My friends are the only family I have, and I refuse to lose a friend I've already lost many times before over a stupid choice."

Just with that one sentence, he broke your heart. "And that right there, is exactly why I thought it was okay in the first place." You growled as all of your self defenses came rushing in to protect you from the words you always knew to be true but never wanted to admit.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm expendable to you and Bucky. I always have been." You stood up from your spot next to him. "You say you're upset because you didn't want to ruin the dynamic of the friend group but guess what? The dynamic has always been you and Bucky hanging out and me just kind've being there. You'll always choose each other, and everyone will always choose someone else over me."

"That's not true." Steve denied. Although he was seeing red with anger, your words made him sad for you.

"I'm never anyone's first choice, Steve. You'll always choose Bucky, Bucky will always choose you. My sister will choose her husband, Harvey will always choose literally anything but me. Nobody else here is willing to be my friend because it's like social suicide, and I had to completely isolate myself from my normal civilian friends for this job." You explained. "I'm the best agent so I get used and abused and harassed out of the pack, but if I become an avenger I'll be singled out as the worst one. You and Bucky claimed you'd always have my back but now I know that's not true."

"Stop saying that." Steve shook his head.

"Nobody wants me." You spat, Steve could tell you believed that to be true.

It shattered his already broken heart, because if you had even the slightest clue of how bad he wanted you, you'd never say those words again. But he couldn't tell you, it simply wasn't an option.

"Nobody wants me ever but that night, Bucky wanted me. So forgive me for latching onto any ounce of human connection I can get these days. That choice was never about you, and I'm sorry that it hurt your feelings but I'm struggling more than I ever have and right now I need to put me first."

"Bucky and I have always loved having you around."

"That might be true, but you proved my point with your own mouth." A single tear fell down your cheek, but you wiped it away just as fast as it fell. "You said you weren't willing to lose Bucky. But right now it feels like you're willing to lose me."

"Don't be mad at him." Steve shook his head.

"He had no right telling you that without consulting me first." You denied. "Unless he broke some kind of code or something there was no rea-" Your own words made reality wash over you like an angry ocean wave trying to swallow you whole. "Oh my god."

"No-" Steve shook his head.

"He broke bro code, didn't he?" You asked Steve, feeling suddenly nauseous.

Steve felt nauseous too. His brain couldn't think of anything but the truth at the moment, but he was horrified. Though he tried to formulate the correct response, nothing felt right at the moment. "You slept in my bed."

"Oh my god." You took a slow step back, unable to process what information you were just receiving. He watched as your face turned just as red as his. "You like me?"

A billion different things came to mind. So many scenarios, so many possibilities, every single time you suppressed your own feelings for Steve because you never thought a man like him could ever love you. It was wrong. Yet all this time, he was harboring a secret of his own. And even then it was still wrong.

"You slept in my bed while you had a boyfriend." Steve spoke so firmly you swore you could feel the bass vibrating the floor.

"This whole time you we're hoping I'd jump right into your arms after breaking things off with Harvey?"

Steve knew where this was going, and the look on your face was just as horrified as he felt. Your lip was wobbling, your hands were shaking, and with every statement you took a step back. "No. But I did think that there was enough happening between us that you wouldn't go for Bucky."

"I slept in your bed because I trusted you, you asshole." You cried, pointing a finger at him. "I slept in your bed while staying with Harvey because he was the only man crazy enough to actually love me and I didn't ever think anyone would be crazy enough to love me ever again."

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His jaw hung open for a moment, before it closed, then opened again. "Well then I guess you were wrong."

"I was wrong." You agreed, wiping your face once more as you watched his eyes tear up. "I trusted you to keep me safe in training, protect me against the people who are harassing me. I trusted you as a friend, a confidant. I even trusted you enough to see me naked, but I was wrong."

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you." Steve mumbled. "Because you trusted me and I didn't want to break it. Bucky didn't know."

"So let me get this straight. You had a secret that you kept from both of us, but Bucky's actions are excusable because he didn't know. My actions are inexcusable but I also didn't know, and we did the exact same thing together?" You asked. "You spend a lot of time talking shit about men's double standards around the compound for someone who turned around and is treating me the exact same way."

"I'm trying to talks through this so we can all go back to being friends."

"You we're never my friend." Your words cut through his heart like a knife. "You we're someone being nice to me in hopes of getting in my pants one day."

"No, that's not true." Steve pleaded, blinking back tears. "Our friendship means a lot to me. That's why I'm this upset in the first place."

"I don't think I can ever go back to being just friends with your or Bucky ever again." You cried. "All of you guys here are the same, I can't do this anymore."

Steve watched you clutch your stomach, as you spun on your heels and walked straight for the door. Little did he know, you felt so nauseous you were trying your hardest not to throw up.

"So that's it?" Steve asked, standing up from the couch. "You're going to throw away everything the three of us have built together as friends because we can't have a rational conversation?"

"A rational conversation? You can't even admit that you're only mad at me because you wanted to get into my pants and now you feel like you can't because Bucky got me first." You turned around to look at him. "That's all I am to anyone. That's the only relationships I've been able to form since I've gotten in this compound. You, Bucky, Harvey. I'm not a human to you guys, I might as well just be a glory hole."

"You're misunderstanding me." Steve shook his head, eyebrows raising upward like a sad puppy.

"That makes two of us." You turned back around and grabbed your packed duffel near the door that you always kept for emergencies.

"I care about you, you know that right?"

"It sure doesn't feel like it right now." You denied his claim.

"Where are you going?" Steve asked. "This is your house."

"The compound has never felt like home to me." The door swung open. You didn't even look back at him before stepping through the doorway. "Don't worry about where I'm going, just say the fuck away from me."

And just like that, the door slammed behind you and rattled the ground. You set off like a storm on the other side, and Steve was left on his own to crumble. Only when he was sure you were gone for good did he let tears fall down his face.

Trying your absolute hardest to hold it together you rushed through the compound hallways, desperately trying to avoid seeing anyone you knew before you made it to your car.

You didn't have it in you to have a face to face conversation with Bucky at the moment, but you did feel like you needed to tell him that the friendship was over, so you called him instead.

"Hey, bug." He answered sympathetically.

"Why did you tell him?" You cried.

"I had to." There was a deep sigh from the phone line. "What did he tell you?"

"Why the fuck are you protecting him?" You asked. It was admittedly a little harsh, but Steve had already amped you up.

"So he told you everything." Bucky stated. "I figured out he was in love with you last night. I couldn't in good conscience keep our secret anymore. He needed to know because the longer we kept it from him the worse this would've been."

"He doesn't love me, Bucky." You denied. "What he did wasn't love. It was control, and it was power, but it's not love."

"I can tell you're upset with him, but I don't think that was his intention." Bucky calmly denied. "Give it a few days to settle, alright? You can be mad at us all you want and I understand why, but emotions are high right now and it seems like both you and Steve are villianizing each other."

"I'm going to be gone for the weekend." You stated, needing to set firm boundaries. "I love you, but you hurt me and I need to get away."

"I'm sorry, bug. I really am." He apologized.

"You, Harvey, and Steve will all be blocked from reaching me unless it's during work hours. And as of now, I can't be a friend of yours."

"I understand" Bucky accepted the repercussions of his actions, though he was sad about it. "I hope you know we care a lot about you. I'm sorry this is all happening this way, but I still want you to be safe. Will you let someone know where you're going? Maybe Commander Bennett?"

"Yeah, I will." You agreed, feeling relieved that at least Bucky was being rational. "I hope in a little while we can figure this out between you and I, but it's going to take some time."

"I hope so too." He agreed. "Stay safe, and be smart. I'm here for you whenever you're ready."

You hung up, drove off, and the second the compound was in your rear view mirror it felt like the weight of the world was off your shoulders.

The weekend came and went simultaneously way too fast, yet painfully slow at the same time. You stayed with your sister who welcomed you with widely opened arms, and really took the time to listen to you when you spoke. She let you get it all out, she wiped your tears, then by morning you'd put on a brave face for Luca.

Spending a lot of quality time with him was truly the only reason you hadn't fully lost your mind. By Monday you felt well enough to face the shit show that was work, but it didn't last very long.

You had made it a whopping 4 hours into the work week before getting sent to Steve's office with an ice pack pressed to your cheek and Commander Bennett opening the door for you.

Steve looked up as the two of you entered, but your eyes were glued to the floor. You didn't need to look around to see where the chair was. You already knew.

He hoped that Bennett couldn't feel the thick tension that filled the room, but it was unusual for him to follow you to his office, and he did take note of how bad you looked.

Well, unfortunately for him he always thought you were stupidly beautiful, but your eyes were swollen. You looked exhausted, drained, and nothing like your usual fiery self.

"We need to do something about 212." Commander Bennett cut straight to the chase. "We can't keep cutting into her work time and having her get hurt because 212 and all his awful friends are picking on her."

"What happened?" Steve asked, trying to see what was under the ice pack.

"I saw them trip her with my own eyes. I don't know if they thought I wasn't watching, or if they thought they were being sly enough that I wouldn't notice, but this cannot continue." He stood firm. "Poor thing smacked her face against the floor, but she still is claiming that reprimanding them will make it worse. So what's the solution?"

Steve sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Do you have any ideas, Commander?"

"Give them one more strike. Let them all know that if they pull this again one more time before evaluation we will disqualify them from taking the test." He suggested. "That includes physical, and verbal attacks."

"That's a really good idea, thank you." Steve agreed. "I'll talk to them today."

"Are you comfortable with that, 306?" Bennett asked you.

"Yes, sir." Your voice was hoarse.

"I'm going to give her the option of cutting her work day short or continuing her training, but no matter what we all know she doesn't need more training." He noted. "I'll leave her with you so you guys can figure out your schedules."

"Thank you." Steve said politely.

Bennett left and the door clicked shut behind him, but your eyes stayed glued to the floor. Your options were go to your apartment and sleep the rest of the miserable daylight away, or spend two hours alone in a room with Steve.

You both already knew what the choice was going to be. There was no need to discuss the schedule change.

Steve knew you hated his guts right now, and he was still feeling hurt by you, but it took a few moments for it to dawn on him that he still needed to be a boss and a leader regardless. So he put his best foot forward.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

There was barely any compassion in his voice, he might as well have been a robot, so you didn't bother responding. You didn't even bother looking at him.

"Would you like to talk about the incident?" He pushed.

"No, Captain." You responded, coming to the same awareness that he was still your boss.

Your use of his title and refusal to look at him felt like a shot to the heart. "Would you like to be relieved of duties until tomorrow?"

"Yes, Captain."

"You are dismissed."

Just like the last time he saw you, you walked out on him without as much as a glance back knowing the next time you'd be forced to see him would be evaluation day.

Next Part: pink peonies

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short-honey-badger · 7 months

Text

Peppermint Tea 29 - Chamomile

Heyyyy guyysss. So I am FINALLY back with an update. I've had some other works get in the way *Crocodile and Hazbin Hotel ahem*

I've worked on this when I can and it's a bit longer than my usual chapters. Sorta of an introspection chapter. Our girl has to do a lot of thinking. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy! Also! I've used A LOT of the live action gifs. I'll be swapping to anime!

Warnings! None I don't think? Drinking.

Link to Ao3! -> Here

Masterlist

Being pregnant is weird. You ache in weird places, and your feet constantly hurt. You hated how emotional you'd become and how much you still longed for the familiar comfort of your boys. You missed the easy companionship and the warmth of their love for you. How they held you close whenever you wanted and went out of their way to bring you little gifts. But then you are reminded that Shanks and Mihawk are nothing but liars and are left wondering if anything that the three of you shared together meant something to them.

It's a horrible way to think, and it makes you feel guilty, but you can't help it. What else could they have lied to you about? Shanks had told you he loved you early on, but Mihawk had never uttered the words once, preferring to show you how much you meant to him. But were you just play thing with them? A convenient source for both men to use? You didn't know, and it made you even more upset thinking about it.

Your tummy moves, and you glance down at the sight of your baby squirming. You can't help but grimace at the weird sensation. Your baby is always moving, never allowing you the rest you desperately want, and it's just one more thing to stack on top of all the rest of your woes. Sometimes, it felt like the growing bundle was punishing you for sending your boys away, especially with how much worse you've been feeling lately without their presence.

Shanks had been so happy to find out that you were pregnant, but he was less enthusiastic about the more gross details and what came with raising a child. He had promised you over and over that he would be there to help, but that he'd definitely have to get used to it.

The redhead drops to his knees, arms wrapping around your thighs as he presses the side of his face to your tummy. It's hardly a bump, but Shanks loves the growing bundle inside of his treasure all the same. He kisses your stomach, lips lingering there as he imagines a tiny redhead running around.

Mihawk stands behind you, still over the moon with the news. He was worried, very much so. Even if your pregnancy and birth were smooth sailing, that meant that Mihawk would have one more person in the world that he would need to protect. It terrified him, but running was the last thing on his mind. In reality, the hawk couldn't get over how radiant you looked and planned to worship every inch of your body until you begged him to stop.

You frown and push the memories aside. Maybe they hadn't been lying to you about everything, but both of them knew that you had no idea who you were. How could they have kept that from you? Why had they waited so long to tell you?

You would have forgiven Mihawk if he had been truthful to you from the start. You were desperate for any kind of company then and had become spoiled on his, so you hadn't thought to question his words back then. But now that you are thinking about it, you can recall how Mihawk had hesitated the day you first told him of your “dreams”.

You would have been upset, yes, but you didn't love Mihawk back then. it would have been much less of a betrayal, but his decision to wait had made it one of the worst things he could have done.

You had an older brother out there who you didn't even know existed, a connection to your past, but Mihawk was too fucking selfish too see that. Damn, now you're just getting angry. But maybe that was good? Maybe you needed to let it all out. You stand from where you'd been curled up on the couch. You have the sudden urge to move. It's been days since your boys left and you've done nothing but lay around and sulk.

Hank jumps up after his human, dark eyes sparking up in excitement to see you finally up and about. He follows after you and lets out a low yip to grab his little brother's attention. Sukuna would kill him if he didn't wake him up.

The orange fluff ball appears within moments, greeting Hank with a yowl and rubbing up against your legs. You crouch to love on him for a second before you continue on, manic energy coursing through your body. They follow their human to your bedroom, and you prop open the door, intending to start deep cleaning the room. You've let too many clothes pile up.

Hank lays under your vanity, and Sukuna squeezes in beside the mutt, big golden eyes never leaving you. They can smell Your raging emotions, and neither want to accidentally get in your way.

You start in the corner, lip curling up in annoyance when you immediately find a pair of Shanks’ pants that he'd left behind. You chuck them to the floor, and soon, it becomes a growing pile of clothing that both men had left behind. You pause once you reach a familiar white shirt, hesitating in tossing your favorite to the pile.

Hank whines when he begins to smell your rising distress and crawls out from under his hiding spot to go to your side. He doesn't like that his human has been so upset lately and is curious as to why her mates haven't shown back up to take care of her. Hank knows that they had a fight. It's why he had gotten in between his human and the one armed man, even if Hank really liked him.

You turn to your dog, a sad smile on your lips as you hold the ruffled and well-loved shirt close to your face. Hank whines again and presses his face into your side, trapping the shirt between the two of you.

“Oh. Alright. I guess it'd be okay to keep this one, huh, buddy?” You murmur and gently shove Hank away so you can lift the shirt you're wearing now and toss it into your hamper. You shrug on Shanks’ shirt, snickering when the material grows tight around your swollen belly. You can't help but think that wearing the shirt feels like the redhead is there with you, wrapping you up in a hug.

You blink as your vision swims and quickly stand, going to the pile of their clothes and shifting through them until you find a large overcoat with delicate designs.

It's during a rare storm on your island that Mihawk decides to show up. His coat and hat are completely soaked through, and the warlord feels more like a wet cat than anything at that moment. This must be what Sukuna feels like when you give the poor cat a bath. Mihawk emphasizes with him.

He barges into the cottage like he owns the place, scaring the hell out of you from where you sit in the living room putting together a puzzle that he'd brought you on a previous visit. The piece you're holding goes flying into the air, and you level a glare at the soaked warlord.

“I'll never find that, you know!” You shout after him as he trudged to the bathroom. He ignores you, closing the door with a snap and quickly undressing. He hangs up his coat to dry and then hops into the now steaming shower to wash the cold rainwater away.

Mihawk joins you back in the living room half an hour later, dressed in nothing but sleep pants. He settles down on the floor behind you, tugging you close to his chest and hooking his bearded chin over your shoulder. He presses an apologetic kiss to your neck.

“I'll buy you another if we can't find the piece later,” Dracule promises. You give a satisfied nod and smile, leaning back into his chest.

“I'll hold you to it.”

Mihawk never took that coat with him again.

You stare down at the dark coat, licking your lips before, ultimately saying screw it and sliding your arms through the sleeves. It's massive on you, dragging the floor and swallowing you up, but it brings you that comfort that you desperately need right now. You clutch the lapels of the jacket close, sniffing pathetically as you sit in the middle of the pile of clothes. Fuck. You miss them so much.

Sukuma meows at you and makes a show of walking on the shirts and pants that surround you, sniffing at them before making biscuits and settling in. Hank plops down beside you, and you can't help the water laugh that escapes.

“I dunno if it's sad or not that the two of you can communicate with me better than a human being,” you quip and let yourself wallow in pity for a little while longer before you stand. You sigh and gather the clothes up and place them in the ditty laundry with everything else. You don't have the heart to get rid of them, not when you can't even decide for yourself if you want them to come back or not.

Sukuna and Hank share a look as they follow you around for the rest of the day. They don't dare leave you alone, not when you reek of sadness and self-pity. Hank does his best to make his human feel a bit better, bringing you his favorite toys and being a big goof when you toss his ball. Sukuna made sure to keep close, his purring, a constant, thunderous roar that drowned out the sad little voice in your head.

~~~~~~~

Their company makes you feel better, but you are still down and miserable a couple of days later. It's been just over two weeks since you sent your boys away, and you've had a lot of time to think during that time. You aren't nearly as upset with Shanks as you are with Mihawk. The redhead had only gone along with Dracule's dumb ass decision at Mihawk's discretion, so you didn't think it was very fair to be so upset with the Emperor.

You were still angry with him, but you could forgive the redhead.

You still hadn't found a good enough excuse for Mihawk, however. His lying to you had been nothing but selfish desire to keep you his. You don't understand how keeping such information from you could be considered keeping you safe, but then you think back to what Shanks had told you the morning before everything had gone to shit.

“Sometimes Mihawk thinks he knows what's best for us, even if he goes about it the wrong way.”

Well, wrong he was, but in a weird way, you could almost see his logic.

Your family, your home, your kingdom, it was all gone - destroyed by Big Mom and her family. You'd been so young, six years old, when it happened, that other than the same memories that plague you nightly, you hardly remember your family or your home. Aside from Tomura, and even then, the memories were vague at best.

Did it make you a bad person if you stayed with the man who had killed the people who lived on your island? Your apparent subjects, because you're some long lost princess? Not that you being royalty mattered, not to you at least. Why would you want all that responsibility when you've lived such a free life away from the rest of the world? How can you grieve for something you've never known?

You hated all these new questions and doubts that his confession had brought on. You almost wish that he'd just kept his mouth shut, but then you think about the brother that is still a mystery to you. Tomura had been your only friend as a child, and you wish you could ask him what he thought about all this.

A sudden pounding on your front door has you jumping out of your skin, and fury rushing up your spine. Really? They couldn't even stay away for a week?

You stomp over to the door, a curse on your lips that sputters out the moment you see who exactly is at your door.

“Perona?” You demand, brows shooting up.

The pink girl barges in like her father figure, strutting into your home like she owns the place.

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

“Coming to see you, duh,” Perona quips like she busts into your life on the daily. Which she does not. She plops on the couch, sighing dramatically, “I couldn't stand another day being around Mihawk. He's not stopped moping since you made them leave.”

Her words catch you off guard. Perona had come here to complain about Mihawk to you of all people? Was she crazy? Perona opens her mouth and spouts off before you can get a word in.

“I'm surprised he even got inside the castle as drunk as he was! The humandrals probably stayed away because of how badly he reeked!”

Your mouth grows dry. You didn't think that Mihawk would be the one to go off into a drinking stupor, and despite yourself, you still felt concerned for the older man. Mihawk was such a recluse, and it had taken months for him to open up to you, and who knew where Shanks was. You had expected the men to at least find comfort in each other.

“Shanks isn't there?” You ask her and take a seat in Mihawk's armchair. You haven't been able to bring yourself to call it yours again, even in your head.

Perona shakes her head, sending her bouncy pig tails flying, “Nope. Not that I saw anyway. But enough about him. How are you doing? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

You smile at her concern and push down the emotions that threaten to swell up like the ocean and pull you under.

“I'm okay. The baby is okay. A lot more squirmy than usual, actually.” You assure the other woman and smooth your hand over your stomach. You are wearing one of Mihawk's shirts today, a brilliant red in color styled in his usual fashion.

Perona squeals in happiness and claps her hand, “Oh good! Can I feel it?”

You nod and watch with a soft smile as the younger girl kneels by your seat and gently rests her hand atop your coveted belly. She giggles when the little one kicks her hand almost immediately.

It's quiet for a while, and that concern for Mihawk resurfaces with a vengeance. You lick your lips, and Perona seems to feel the shift in the air, for she sits back and plops back on the couch. She watches her friend, feeling guilty and sorry for the other woman. It wasn't fair.

“Mihawk told me what happened. Well, more like he drunkenly yelled about it and threw a lot of things, but still. I wanted to come see you. Are you seriously okay?”

Her big eyes are full of nothing but worry for you, and you feel the walls crack and break under her kind gaze.

“Ah-no not really,” you admit quietly and sweep your hand through your hair, “I guess I didn't realize how much they were picking up my slack around here. Being pregnant fucking sucks, and I feel horrible for missing two men who betrayed my trust.”

You sniff and force the tears back. You are so sick of crying. Sick of feeling like crap, and you just want everything to go back to the way it was.

Perona stands and gathers you in for a hug, and you gladly bury your face in her shoulder and cry. It feels like it's been forever since you've had any kind of human interaction, and having Perona here has broken you. She holds you until you've stopped crying, and then when you let go, the ghost girl lopes to the kitchen to fix the two of you hot cups of tea. The warm drink does wonders for your sore throat, and you let yourself relax back into Mihawk's chair.

“I think you sending them away was the right thing to do. For now, at least,” Perona begins, and you glance up at her from over the rim of your mug. She sits criss cross on the couch, and you smile when you see that Sukuna has curled up in her lap. Big fluff ball only liked girls.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that this alone time gave you some time to think, right? I know Mihawk did bad, and I told him more than once that it wasn't okay that he was keeping that from you, but, _.”

You look at Perona when she says your name, and you frown at the insurge of wrongfulness that swims in your chest. You don't know if you want to hear this.

“He's a disaster. I've never seen him like this before, and maybe you could give him a second chance? Maybe give him a call to know that you're okay?”

Mihawk had become Perona’s guardian and father figure all rolled up into one big surly warlord. She loved him and hated that Dracule was wasting away alone in the castle at Gloom Island. He deserved to be happy, and the ghost girl knew that you and Shanks were the only two for him.

You stay quiet. Could you do what Perona asks? The more you think about it, the more you come to the conclusion that yes, you could definitely do this. You wanted to talk to Mihawk. You needed to see how the older man was doing.

“Is he really that bad?” You ask softly, and Hank seems to notice the stress that coats your tone. He rises from in front of the fireplace and lays his big head on your lap. You slid your fingers into his fur and found that easy comfort.

“He won't stop drinking and yelled at me when I tried to take his booze away. He won't eat, won't shower, and hasn't trained since he got to Gloom.”

It's one nail in the coffin after the other, and you find yourself up out of the chair and to the snail transponder that you've intentionally forgotten about. Your hands shake as you dial the familiar number, and you glance to the living room to see Perona giving you a double thumbs up.

CA-LICK

“Who the fuck thinks that they can call this number.”

Gods. Perona really wasn't joking when she said that Mihawk was a mess. He sounded sloshed, voice thick with alcohol and lack of sleep.

“Mihawk? It's me,” you say quietly, and the silence is loud even over the phone. You close your eyes and picture the look of shock that the warlord no doubt has.

“Angel? You called?” His voice is full of disbelief and aching hope.

“Perona asked me to call you. She said you aren't…doing very well.” You finish lamely. It's never been this awkward between the two of you before, and you do not like it.

“Oh, so that's where she ran off to. You shouldn't worry about me, Darling. I'm perfectly fine- oh!”

You jump when you hear a loud crash over the receiver, “Mihawk? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine my dear. Only tripped. I'm quite clumsy today,” Mihawk slurs and you crack a smile at his uncharacteristic behavior. You hear him shuffle about and settle down in a chair, voice sobering up just a bit as he focuses on speaking.

“It's good to hear your voice, sweetheart. I missed you something terrible, you know? Are you doing well? Is the baby okay?”

You can hear his voice catch a frantic edge, and you are quick to reassure the warlord. You dont want him sailing across the Grand Line sloshed.

“We're both fine. She's been a little more rowdy than usual,” you say quietly and bite your lip, a tiny sigh leaving you. You rub your tummy, eyes sliding shut, “She misses her daddies. So do I.”

It's quiet on the other end of the line, just the sound of Dracule breathing. It's honesty nice to hear, and you find yourself relaxing again the wall, head thunking against it.

“...I'm so sorry, Angel. What I've done to you is irreversible. I wish that I could take it all back.”

His apology hurts. You want to forgive him for his sins, assure Mihawk that nothing had changed and that he could come back home. But you couldn't, even if he had saved you and your brother at the end of the day.

“You can't, Mihawk, and I don't know if I can ever forgive you,” you hear his lungs hitch on the other end, a sharp intake of breath that sounds near painful. You look down at your growing belly, tears spriouting, “But it isn’t fair to you to keep you away from her, and- and I don't think I can do this without you.”

“Her? You think the baby is a girl?”

A smile plays your lips. Of course, that is what he picked up on right now.

“I just have a feeling, is all,” you admit to him. You hum quietly, and thousands of miles away, Mihawk relaxes in his armchair for the first time in weeks at the sweet sound.

“ …You would trust me around her? Around you again?” He asks you, and Gods, how were you suppose to answer that?

“Did you ever lie to me about anything else?” You ask instead of answering that. You needed to know if anything you had shared with Dracule had been fake.

“No. I've always been truthful to you, Angel. You’ve become my whole world, and I wanted to do anything I could to protect that.”

Even over the snail transponder, you can tell that Mihawk is telling the truth. You only have one last question, one that makes you almost nauseous to ask.

“Do you love me, Mihawk?”

On Gloom Island, the warlord looks stricken, face growing pale and falling at the mention of that four letter word. Did he not show you how much he cared for you? Did his actions not speak of how much you meant to him?

No, it didn't. His lack of action that had cost him everything. Mihawk wouldn't let that happen again.

“I don't think I should answer that over the phone, Angel.”

He hears your breath hitch, and do he plows on, shoving away the unease that wants to settle like a deadly cloak.

“I want to see you, again. Will you permit me that?”

Before you can answer, you hear a commotion on the other end of the line. Curious, you listen in.

Mihawk cocks an unimpressed brow when the door to his study flies open, banging against the wall and sending a couple of books falling from the shelves. Shanks gives him an unapologetic grin and shut the door softly behind himself.

“Sorry about that, Baby,” the redhead slurs. He is drunk as a skunk, and Mihawk curls his lips at the stench that clings to Shanks, “I wanted to come see you, you've been avoiding me.”

“It's not avoiding if you aren't seeking. I've been here this whole time,” Mihawk grumbles at the younger man and points to a chair on the other side of his desk. Shanks ignores him, loping around the desk to instead drape himself across Mihawk's shoulders instead.

“Who're you talking to?” Shanks demands when he catches sight of the snail on Dracule's desk.

“Hi Shanks,” the redhead zeros in when he hears your voice, dark eyes going wide and he makes grabby hands for the receiver.

“Treasure! I miss you!” Shanks whines into the phone, and your chest tightens at the forlorn tone that coats his words, “When can we come home?”

You can't help but giggle at his request, though that guilt still eats at you, you want to see them again. Maybe Perona was right about that second chance. It felt so good to speak to both of your boys, even if they hadn't been taking care of themselves, but you still didn't think you could have them here. Not yet.

“Not yet, Shanks. I need some more time,” you murmur and wish you were there with them when you hear the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

“Don't bother her with questions like that. She'll take all the time she needs,” Mihawk snaps and glares at the redhead who now lays sprawled on the floor.

You listen to Shanks whine like a child in the background, and the sound of your two boys together makes you long to be there with them.

“He's fine, Mihawk. How about you let him stay there with you, and I'll call you again soon?” You suggest softly. You know that Mihawk won't willingly ask Shanks to stay with him, but you didn't want either of them to be without the other right now.

Dracule sighs heavily but nods all the same, golden eyes landing on the redhead who looks seconds away from passing out, “Only because you asked, Angel.”

“Don't act like you don't love him,” you admonish quietly, and his next words shock you to the core.

“You're right, Darling. I do love him.”

You can hear the quiet astonishment in Dracule’s voice, and this time, it's happy tears that will up and threaten to fall. You sniff harshly, “See, that wasn't that bad, was it?”

A fond smile plays on his lips, golden eyes soft, “No, no it wasn't.”

A stilted silence settles over the connection, and the two of you speak up at the same time.

“I should go-”

You huff a soft laugh and continue, “you should make sure Shanks hasn't drunk himself into a coma. I'll um, I'll keep in touch, okay?”

“Alright, Darling, call again soon, okay?” Mihawk, please and grips the receiver harshly, voice turning desperate, “We miss you.”

You swallow harshly, eyes clenched shut, “I will. I miss you too.”

You hang up the transmitter, taking a deep breath before going back to Mihawk's chair and plopping down with a world weary sigh. Perona cocks a brow at you.

“Did it go okay?”

You shrug, “Yeah, it was good hearing from them. Shanks will probably still be there when you go home, by the way.”

You snicker at the sneer that ghosts across Perona’s face, finding amusement in her disgusted reaction, “Fantastic.”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings @black-swan-blog27

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jasntodds · 3 months

Text

Penance [4]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 7,682

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, a little bit of angst, some fluff, mentions of death, some blood, panic attack (jason), bits of ptsd, some violence, hurt/comfort

Summary:❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: I might have gotten this idea from 911 but that's fine lol I hope you guys like it!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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As the next day comes around, it takes Jason some time to convince Tim not to go looking for Venta if they’re going out later. Tim is thrilled to be helping with the Penguin to the point Jason finds the whole thing a little funny. Jason was always excited to go out as Robin. It was the coolest thing ever but Tim really is over the moon about it. Jason doesn’t think Tim has ever been happier about it and it actually worries him.

As much as Jason is happy for him, he is worried. He’s worried Tim will put his all into Robin and lose himself in it, just like Dick and Jason did. Robin was never something they got to do. It was given to them as a way to cover up their grief. It was a way to weaponize their grief rather than work through it. Jason hopes that won’t be the case for Tim. It doesn’t seem that way. It seems he just wants it for the greater good and he’s just excited. And the way he’s excited is still very serious like he knows he can’t let that excitement out onto the field so he lets it out now where it’s safe. It’s something he knows he has to take seriously. Jason worries but he hopes it’ll work out because he can tell that Tim will be a good Robin.

You meet the boys back at Jason's around midnight, a case in hand with your suit. You're pretty excited to go out on a mission with not only Tim for the first time, but also Jason. You really miss that stuff with him. But, with Tim, it’s new and you're excited to see how he does. No one can’t stop him from being Robin and being out there, so you might as well embrace it and that’s what you're doing even if you're terrified of it.

“Really gonna take down the Penguin.” Tim says almost in awe once you're dressed and back in the main corridor downstairs.

“Pretty sure we’re not taking him down, really.” You nod your head as Tim moves his staff around with pent-up energy.

“Kind of.” Tim defends.

“We’re just securing the guns and turning them over to Babs.” Jason reminds him as he walks in now in his Red Hood suit, the helmet on his hip. “Not taking out Penguin, he’s not even supposed to be there this time.”

“The fuck he is doing that he’s not gonna be at his own shipment?” You question, your stare directly at Jason and you can't help but feel maybe that's a bit weird.

“Fuck if I know, Penguin things.” Jason lets out a scoff. "Could think we wouldn't come for him since we haven't." Jason shrugs casually, it's not the first time Penguin hasn't been around so he isn't too concerned about it.

“What a weirdo.” You let out a sigh, shrugging the uneasiest from your bones with the ease of Jason's voice.

“Yeah.” Jason chuckles softly. “Alright, let’s get going. Tim, you ride with her.” Jason hands Tim a spare helmet. Jason heads for the exit, the two of you right behind him. “And just make sure you do what we say.”

“Got it.” Tim nods.

“Then, let’s get out of here.” Jason nods once as the three of you exit the building.

The three of you ride over to the warehouse near Harbor that Penguin is using. The three of you get to a roof, laying down to look over the edge as the three of you closely watch as the shipment is taken from one of the boats and moved into the warehouse. Penguin isn’t here it seems and only a handful of his goons are. That’s a red flag, Jason and you can both sense it. You exchange a glance but you're already here and you gave Babs a heads up. It'd be a little hard to leave now so you just keep watching, hoping this won't cause too many problems.

Once the lot is cleared of goons, the three of you make your way to the roof of the warehouse, Tim trailing along well. On top of the roof, there's a skylight where you can see the crates in the center of the room with the goons armed and looking around. This isn't anything you and Jason haven't done before so you both give Tim a quick rundown of a plan. Tim gets two goons while you and Jason will take out the rest and if he's in trouble just call out. Once Tim seems to be up to speed, Jason and you break the window first, using your grappling hooks to lower yourselves down quickly, Tim right behind with his own grappling hook.

You take your own four goons with ease while Jason takes the other four, leaving Tim with just the two. You and Jason find yourselves looking over your shoulders to make sure Tim isn’t laid out but every time you both check, he seems to be holding his own pretty well. By the time you and Jason have your goons down, Tim has his down, a proud smile on his face.

“I got them.” Tim says breathlessly. “Wasn’t so bad.”

You look over to Jason with the roll of your eyes. “Okay, Robin.” You nod once before you let out a breath.

“Let’s make sure everything is here and we’ll put in the call.” Jason says as the three of you start opening the crates finding several automatic weapons.

“What’s he doing with all of them anyway?” Tim asks, standing beside you.

“Penguin things.” You and Jason say at the same time.

“Right…” Tim lets out a breath.

This has gone pretty well so far according to you and Jason but that is what's not sitting right. Nothing with these guys ever goes exactly according to plan. That was one of the reasons Jason wanted to bring Tim so he would have to learn to adapt but nothing else is happening. Penguin isn't here and his goons barely even put up a fight. You need to get out of here, this isn't right.

“You didn’t think this would be that easy did you?” A nasally voice says from the platform above the three of you.

The three of you turn to see Penguin with his right hand right next to him. He looks a bit too excited and happy to be here. Jason wants to bang his head against a wall and you're nearly rolling your eyes into the back of your head. This was too easy and for Penguin to seem awfully pleased with himself, this is about to get very bad.

“We can take your goons all night, man. Or you can just walk the fuck away.” Jason offers as he crosses his arms.

Penguin tilts his head back and laughs. “That won’t be necessary. The two of you really are some replacements. And you even have your own sidekick!”

“Hey!” Tim yells, taking a step forward.

You grab his arm with a tight grip. “Shut up.” You grit your teeth at him. "Sounds like you could use a sidekick or two though." You quip back to Penguin. "Planning this with the Bat to of town? What? You scared or something, Penguin?"

“I'm not scared." Penguin says it so casually it sends a chill down your spine. "I knew you’d get in the way which is why I prepared for that!” Pengiun chimes. "You really should know something about that, Red Hood." Penguin mocks before he pulls out a detonator.

A bomb. Of course, it’s a fucking bomb.

“Have fun.” Penguin smiles at the three of you before he presses the button and immediately starts walking out.

You and Jason exchange a stare as a ticking echoes around you. You won’t have time. Penguin planned this so you wouldn’t have time even with his warning. There's no time to find the bomb and disable it, there's not even enough time to get out of the building. How did you both miss this?

It's all going in slow motion as Jason can see the panic wanting to stretch over your face, Tim looking petrified right beside you. There isn’t time to even reach you. And even if there was, what’s he supposed to do? He can’t catch a building. There’s only one thing to do and it’s as if you share the exact same thought that he does in that single second.

Jason and you turn at the same time to run towards the exit, you grabbing Tim by the arm to drag him along. The ticking quickens from above you. You’re out of time. You’re out of time and there’s nothing else left to do. The ticking echoes and echoes and in a split second, Jason is running behind a pillar and you grab the edge of your cape before wrapping it around Tim as you tackle him to the ground.

And the bomb goes off less than a second later.

The warehouse rumbles and vibrates as Jason is tucked into a ball behind the pillar, his hands covering his neck as if waiting for a tornado to hit. The rumbling shakes his bones and it’s so loud. Every rumble and echo shatter through his bones. His eyes are slammed shut as the warehouse fills with smoke as the roof starts to collapse. Jason’s chest starts to burn and it shouldn’t.

The mask has a ventilator. His chest shouldn’t hurt but it does and he thinks his ears are bleeding. His bones are stinging. Why are his bones stinging? Why is so hard to breathe? His eyes burn and sting even with them closed. Not again. This can't be happening again. Panic spreads itself over Jason like an itchy weighted blanket. He doesn't want to die again. Dying is terrifying and the building is collapsing around him. A part of him thinks he can hear the crude laugh of the Joker echoing somewhere through the shattering concrete. It all feels too much and he can't breathe. Every part of him is shaking as he's been left out to the elements in the middle of February. This can't be happening.

And then it all falls eerily silent.

Jason's breath is quick and uneven as he tries to ground himself. It's silent, the collapsing is over. It takes him a few minutes to try to gather himself, desperately trying to pull his mind away from the edge of terror. This is the first time something like this has happened since the Joker. Jason thinks the fear isn't any better the second time around.

He thinks it's worse.

But, he finds it in himself to finally slowly pull his hands away from his neck, his arms feeling like warm jello as they shake. He slowly sits up partially, looking around what was the warehouse. It’s cloudy, filled with dust and smoke. It’s hard to even see a few feet in front of him but he looks over to where you last were with Tim and he can’t see anything. The dust is too thick and he can’t help but let the panic start to flood his blood again.

He has the helmet. His eyes are protected but what about yours? Your mask has a ventilator but what if it doesn’t work? Do you even communicate enough with Bruce to make sure your equipment is working? And Tim doesn’t have any eye protection or a ventilator. It doesn’t matter if you're on your own, you and Tim are Jason’s responsibility. He’s the most experienced. He should have known this wasn’t right. Something should have went off in his head. He should have fucking known. Why didn’t he know?

The dust starts to dissipate with every passing second and Jason gets a better glimpse where you and Tim last were. He swears he’s going to be sick as his heart stops beating as it shoots into his throat. There’s a pile of cement from the ceiling. A long pile where that part of the ceiling collapsed and there is no sight of blue or red. There’s not yellow or black. It’s just brown and grey.

No.

Jason gets to his feet as fast as his legs will allow him and he sprints over to the cement. Not you. Not you. Not you. It can’t be you. He grabs one of the cement blocks and starts trying to pull it away to make a hole in the pile. He can feel the panic taking over again.

It’s been better. It’s been better again since he started seeing Leslie again. He can feel the panic sometimes but it’s better. He can fight through it usually and it doesn’t cause him as much distress out in the field. But, now it’s coming back like a wrecking ball. It’s been easier because he hasn’t had someone to look out for. It’s been easier because he hasn’t had to worry even if he always does. It was always fine if he had to eat it. But, being here and digging through a pile of cement in hopes you’re both alive, that’s different.

If he had to die again, that'd be fine as terrifying as it is. But, the thought it being someone else, being people that he actually cares about, that's an entirely other story.

“Blue!” Jason yells as loud as his can, his voice is raw and he hates the sound of it in his ears. It sounds desperate and scared but he is both of those things. Not you. “Robin!” He calls after, this time stronger, hoping he’ll hear one of you yell back.

The thought of seeing you crushed brings instant tears to his eyes and his stomach twist. He thinks about how you haven’t talked in a month and that’s such a waste. Why the fuck didn’t he just call you? He should have fucking called you. He’s panicking and he hates it but seeing you dead is his greatest fear today. He knows what it’s like to die and to die scared. You were scared. You don’t deserve it. It can’t be you. Please, not you.

And he knows Dick is gonna kill him if Tim dies on his watch. Tim just started and he volunteered for this. He can't be punished for wanting to do something for the greater good, for just wanting to help. It can’t be Tim either. Somehow, you both need to be alive under this pile.

Jason’s teeth grit before he rips the helmet from his head, annoyed by the vision of it. And he gets to work on the cement again. You both have to be alive. There is not another option. You have to be. And then he gets a glimpse of a bright blue fabric.

Jason forgets how to breathe and he works faster, pulling the concrete away as fast as his muscles will even allow. He’s able to make a big enough hole in the pile to reach you and just as he looks into the hole, there’s movement. He still isn’t breathing as he waits to see who it is and not a single part of him can even think to hope who he wants it to be because it has to be both of you.

And then you look up at him.

Jason lets out a breath.

Your eyes are wide and your face is covered in dust, a stream of blood falling down the side of your face. But he can tell by the softness in your eyes that you're relieved to see him, too.

The building fell on you and Tim. The building fucking collapsed on you and you have no idea why you thought your cape would help but it was something you could try. And then you got pinned. You think you’d normally start to panic because you were practically entirely on top of Tim and you couldn’t move. You both could have been trapped there but you know Jason has a habit of living through some fucked up shit. Something in you knew if he made it, he’d be there. He’d never let either of you rot under a pile of concrete. You knew he’d come.

Jason always comes.

And then Tim looks up, too.

Jason shakes his head, looking down for a second to gather himself before he offers a hand. You take his hand in yours as Jason pulls you out. He’s careful but deliberate making sure you don’t slip. Once you're on solid ground, he wastes no time in looking you over, his hands coming to your cheeks.

Besides the blood coming from a small cut near your hairline, Jason doesn’t see any other visible injuries. It doesn’t bring him much relief because internal injuries are still a thing and he thinks you should all go to the Batcave and do some scans. For all he knows, it's a lot worse than a small cut and you have to get out of here quickly just to make sure. He just needs to make sure.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks quickly, still looking over you.

Your hands shake as they come to his hands on your cheeks. “I’m fine.” Your voice is soft as you answer him, your thumbs running over his hands. He looks absolutely terrified. You aren't sure you've ever really seen this look on his face before. “I’m okay.” You nod against him as you watch a small part of his face dissolve into relief as his eyes meet yours.

You feel okay though very shaky and weak. Your limbs and back are sore, your ribs feel a little achy but nothing feels wrong. A part of you feels a little out of body and terrified anyway, like there's leftover panic still running through your veins. Being crushed by a building wasn't something you thought would happen and it definitely wasn't something you were prepared for. Gong toe-to-toe with bad guys with guns and knives and fists is the easy part. The uncertainty of a bomb and a collapsing building is a bit horrifying. But, physically, you think you're okay.

“We gotta do some scans at the cave, alright? Make sure there’s no internal bleeding or some shit.” Jason keeps his eyes on yours, trying with everything in him to control the panic in his voice.

“I’m fine—“

“No.” Jason cuts you off. This is one risk he's not willing to take. Your life is the one risk Jason will never take no matter what you want to argue. “You don’t know that, okay?”

Suddenly, it's as if you're back on Amusement Mile that night. It was dark and gloomy, nothing too unusual for a night in Gotham City. But, it felt colder and it all felt wrong. The pit in your stomach gnawed and begged you to turn around. You remember knowing with the very sight of the yellow on the Robin cape. You remember how terrified you were walking up to his body, waiting for the confirmation of your biggest fear. You're thinking you might have shared a similar look to the one Jason is giving you now.

“Okay.” You agree with a gentle nod.

Jason sucks in a breath, his brows still pulled together with worry. "Good."

“Yeah, uh, a little help, please?” Tim calls from behind the two of you.

The two of you drop your hands and immediately turn around.

“Fuck, yeah sorry, man.” Jason rushes.

“Sorry!” You call as the two of you rush back to the hole in the pile Jason made to help Tim.

Once Tim is out of the pile, Jason and you look him over quickly, making sure he isn’t missing a limb and nothing is deformed.

“I’m fine.” Tim assures the two of you, not missing the worry between you. “That was crazy though.” Tim looks around with ease, almost like he’s unbothered. You and Jason give him a confused look. Why is he so fine? “We caught a zombie Deathstroke and are fighting a few demons. I was also shot and killed by Scarecrow.” Tim shrugs casually, already growing used to seeing his life in danger which is not nearly as reassuring as he thinks it is.

“Alright.” You roll your eyes, wishing he'd give some insight on how he's able to handle things well.

“Sure, man.” Jason nods his head, unsure if he's completely convinced someone can just walk away from major traumas perfectly fine. “We’re still doing a scan. Let’s get outta here.” Jason jerks his head towards where he threw his helmet.

“You, too.” You state as Jason grabs his helmet and starts walking towards the exit.

“Me, too what?” Jason asks, adjusting his helmet on his hip.

“Scans.” Tim adds in as him and you start to follow Jason. “If you’re forcing us, you have to, too.” Tim states, thinking that's probably a good idea for all of you anyway. Jason's limp doesn't go unnoticed by Tim and Tim can feel his shoulder starting to ache. He knows you took the brunt of the force.

“Aww, you’re learning." You chime.

Jason lets out a groan, swearing he's the one that's fine. He was not crushed by a building but he's not in the mood to fight with either of you. “Fucking fine.” He doesn’t bother protesting knowing damn well you will get what you want. You will win. You always win when it comes to him.

The three of you get on your bikes and head out of the city and to Wayne Manor, something Tim is very excited about. He wasn’t really going to complain about getting any scans done. Getting scans means going into the Batcave again and this time, it won’t be taken over by Crane. Getting scans means getting to actually hang out in the Batcave this time. Tim would never turn down the opportunity now.

You still want to protest but you saw the worry over Jason’s face. You feel fine besides a headache. But, you aren’t going to take the risk for Jason’s sake. You think back to the times you said you’d die for each other and you think that’s easy. You’d run in front of a bullet for him even today. It doesn’t matter but making sure you're okay enough to live feels harder. You don’t want to die or anything but maybe you’d normally brush this off and then that might be it. But, Jason looks at you with all the love his heart could muster and you can’t do it to him. You can live for him, too.

Once you’re at the manor, the three of you use the tunnel to enter the cave immediately. Jason and you go to the changing area, Tim following right behind you. There are always extra sweats there, just in case in a variety of sizes. You grab some for you and Tim while Jason grabs himself a pair. The three of you go off into different changing rooms and get changed before you meet out in the med area of the cave. You go for the scan first just to get it over with.

Tim of course sits beside Jason as they watch the imaging load. It was something Bruce taught him to look for when Jason first got hurt as Robin. They look for internal bleeding, broken bones, swollen organs, anything they can't see from the outside. They can’t just go to the hospital every time they’re hurt. That would raise some questions so they do the scans here. If something is serious, they can go. Which has yet to happen in Jason’s time as Robin. But, he takes what he learned from Bruce and he passes it onto Tim.

Once your scan is over, you join the boys, sitting beside Jason. The scan doesn’t take much longer to load and it seems everything is okay. It's a relief for all of you even if Jason isn't totally sitting with ease over it. It's a relief but there is something still making him worry anyway. But he keeps it to himself while Tim jumps up, ready for his turn. Once Tim is ready, Jason gets the scans going.

With Tim is the machine, that leaves you and Jason to yourselves and Jason can't quite keep his stare on the computer. You've been hurt before and he hasn't felt like this. Once you get confirmation you're fine, it starts to fade away but tonight, it's as if he's run out of places to dissolve his worry and paranoia. He's not sure what he'd do if something happened to you.

“Let me help.” Jason points to the cut on your forehead before he gets up and grabs some of the supplies.

“Oh, uh, yeah, okay.” You nod before you sit on the counter.

Jason takes out the alcohol pads and carefully wipes some of the blood, you hissing in response. Jason mumbles a quick apology but continues working. It’s not bad. Jason doesn’t even think you need stitches and he thinks you're lucky. You though, you're just watching him carefully. So much has changed and yet this feels like nothing has changed. It feels like it did that first night after Jerry. Something about him moving carefully, gently, but a little rough. He doesn’t say anything and he dodges your eyes. And you think your stomach is swirling and bubbling just as it did that night.

“What’ve you been up to?” You ask quietly, eyes looking right at him.

Jason pauses, looking at you before he goes back to cleaning the cut on your forehead. He shifts slightly, the feeling of being exposed starting to fade right over him. “Usual.” Jason answers. “Taking out dickwads, reading, researching, helping Babs.”

You looked in the mirror after you changed, the cut wasn't bad. He should be done by now but he's taking his time. He's still dodging your stare and he's minding his right leg. His mouth is pressed into a straight line. He's seemed okay besides tonight, happy even. You really hope this doesn't set him back because he should be happy. It's what he deserves. And you wonder if it was all just some sort of facade because Jason hates people knowing what he's thinking. Maybe it was just an act for Tim or for you for some reason.

You hope not.

“Are you happy?” You whisper to him, hoping he'll be honest if he's not and hoping he really is happy with the life he's making for himself.

Jason freezes.

Maybe in the grand scheme of life he is. Generally speaking, he thinks he’s happy most days. He isn’t miserable. And his relationship with Bruce is getting better and his relationship with all of the Titans is getting better. Molly is still one of his best friends. He likes what he does. But, he can’t quite bring himself to say he’s happy. It’s the ache in his bones he can’t shake and the white streak of hair that won’t go away. The Y scar that stares back at him when he looks in the mirror after a shower. The way his leg still fucking hurts sometimes and the nightmares. The panic attacks sometimes that seem to hit him like a freight train out of nowhere. The fact that he feels lonely.

He was so fine being alone for so long and then he was comfortable not being alone. Now, he’s just lonely. He lives alone and he spends a lot of time alone and it’s just lonely. His heart feels like it’s contracting in his chest while a lump finds its way at the base of his throat. And he misses you. Maybe he could live with that choice if it weren’t for everything else. But, he thinks he could live with everything else if he didn’t miss you so much.

“I don’t know.” Jason answers, not wanting to give the real answer but not wanting to lie entirely. “Are you?”

You think you're happy most of the time. You live with Molly so you aren’t alone and you're eternally grateful for that. And you have movie nights. You even have movie nights with Gar and Tim over FaceTime. You and Rachel talk a lot now and you’re on good terms. You love what you do and you love helping Babs. Bruce doesn’t want to kick you out of Gotham. Things feel like they’re getting better. The nightmares have gotten a little better even if you wake Molly up sometimes screaming. But the guilt always comes at night, weighing down every bit that could make you happy. The guilt of everything that happens just chews away part of your happiness as if you aren't allowed to be happy. And maybe you could live with it, if you didn’t miss Jason like you need oxygen. You miss him more than you could ever miss anything.

“I don’t know.” You answer the same way as if you understand and Jason feels seen so he shifts his feet, tossing the alcohol pads into the trash under the table. Jason presses his hands on the counter, resting them beside your thighs as he leans in slightly. He doesn't even fully realize he does it. “You deserve to be happy, Jay.” You keep your voice quiet as Jason’s brows pull together as if he’s in pain.

“So do you.” Jason nods once.

“What would make you happy?” You ask and aren’t sure why you did. Maybe you hope he’ll even jokingly say you and then that’ll give you a reason to tell your guilt to shut up and take a backseat. And you think he might say it because his eyes finally lock on yours and the pain in his face starts to fade.

He thinks it’s you.

“I don’t know.” He answers anyway because admitting it seems unfair to both of you. You’ve been here before and yeah, you both know. You both know it shouldn’t have been the way it was then but it’s different. He isn’t pushing to self-destruct. He just wants to be ready if he tells you and he isn’t sure he is. “What about you?” Jason asks, thinking if you say it, he’ll say it anyway.

You think it's him.

“I don’t know.” You echo and you shake your head before you lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. You feel him relax and you almost want to cry. Jason's hands slowly move onto your thighs and he wants to burst at the seams. You making the move tells Jason everything he needs to know. And Jason relaxing with his hands on your thighs tells you everything you need to know. It's still him and you. “Happy you’re here though…happy you were there tonight.” You say honestly.

“Me, too. Happy you came along tonight.” Jason says back as he pulls away but he keeps his hands on your thighs.

"Thanks for coming to save us." You offer him a subtle smile.

"Of course." Jason nods his head softly. "You and me?" Jason offers the same smile.

Your hand comes to his cheek, running a thumb along the skin and his shoulders relax. “You and me.” You echo.

It’s silent for a few seconds as if you’re both wanting to see where this will go. Unsure where you want it to go. Before, you both knew. You knew you wanted each other so you’d jump the second you could. But this isn’t that. You want each other but there is so much caution in it. You’re both terrified of overstepping boundaries and ruining whatever you’re trying to rebuild. You’re terrified of hurting each other again. You're both worried you aren't ready for something again. So as much as you both want each other, a part of both of you almost feels okay with waiting to make sure it’s right this time. For each other even if you both want to explode.

And then Tim clears his throat.

“Uh, so…am I gonna die again?” Tim quips making you and Jason pull apart.

“Yeah.” Jason answers immediately, glancing at the screen and earning a light tap from you which makes him laugh. Jason actually takes a second to look over the scans before finishing his sentence. “Eventually but not tonight. You’re fine.” Jason finishes.

“Shithead.” You mutter with the roll of your eyes but a smile finds itself across your lips.

“Babe.” Jason grins.

“You two are weird.” Tim mutters as he walks up to the two of you.

“Your turn.” You tap Jason on the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Jason pulls in a breath and makes his way to the scan.

Once Jason is situated, you get the machine going before you look over Tim. The scans are clear and he seems fine. He actually looks really happy which you know is because he's sitting in the Batcave. He's still looking over the Batcomputer, his eyes wandering around the cave every so often. You can't say you blame him really but you're surprised and relieved he's handling things well.

"You can explore if you want, ya know?" You suggest.

"Really?" Tim's eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

"Yeah? You are Robin." You let out a soft laugh and before you can even say another word, Tim is out of his seat.

“What’s going on with you guys anyway?" Tim questions as he makes his way over to the case holding Jason's Robin suit, the blood still staining it. "Looked like I interrupted something.” Tim glances back at you and then the suit before he moves on.

“No.” You shake your head, keeping her eyes on the screen. “Catching up a little bit.”

Tim rolls his eyes and lets out a scoff. “You guys forgot I was crushed by a building." Tim defends, making his way over to the training area.

"I said I was sorry and so did he." You defend even though you know you'll be feeling guilty about that for awhile. "Don't tell Dick though."

"Wasn't going to." Tim chuckles softly. "Seems like there's something going on." Tim states as the cave falls silent. He looks over as you glare back him, very clearly unamused by his observation. "I'm just saying." Tim states as he shrugs his shoulders, going back to looking at the variety of knives Bruce has.

You let out a sigh and decide maybe you will ask Tim for his input. Everyone else knows so much about you and Jason, not just as a couple but as vigilantes. Tim, on the other, doesn't know that side of it. This is the first time Tim is actually even hanging out with Jason for more than a few minutes. He might actually be the perfect person to talk to.

“Alright, listen, can we talk about it later?” You ask. “I do honestly have a headache and to dig into that right now is not what I want to do. But we can talk about it later.”

“Alright.” Tim sighs as he starts making his way back to you.

“Any word about Bernard?” You ask as Tim takes his seat back beside you.

“No change.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.” You say softly. “You guys will figure it out. He’ll be okay.”

“Thanks.” Tim mutters as he leans onto his elbow.

Jason’s scans finish a few minutes later allowing him to rejoin the other two of you. You look over the scans, feeling relief come over you. You figured he was fine, Jason usually is. But, it is nice having actual confirmation he's okay even a part of you will still be glancing him over and watching him carefully just for extra security. Scans can be wrong.

“So?” Jason questions with a knowing look, knowing he is fine.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re fine.” You wave him off with eyes wide to mock him. “Just to be safe.”

“Yeah.” Jason pulls a breath into his lungs and he knows.

He wonders if you’ll always be more worried about him. With not talking now and the whole shit with Crane before, he hasn’t had too much time to even think about it. And you were so worried that whole time because of Crane and because he had just died. But, he wonders about now. Now that some of the dust has settled and you've been away from him. He can tell by how you're still glancing over him as if expecting him to start gushing blood from an invisible wound that you're worried. And he thinks you're more worried than you normally would be. A scan and a look over would usually be enough but not tonight. He wonders if it’s because he died. Maybe you’ll always be trapped in a spiral of worry knowing it might happen again.

Jason thinks that sounds like torture.

He wants to find a way to assure you he’s fine but he’s not really sure what he could possibly do. He’s not fine since dying. It’s hard to walk every day with that kind of weight around his chest but he is physically fine and he wants you to know that. He breathes today and he did yesterday. Before, he thinks he would have made a joke and then kissed you. It’s what he always did and it always calmed your nerves. You would have slept together and if he were injured, you would have known. It was always harder hiding any type of injury from you because either you’d see it, you’d catch him slipping, or he’d flinch when you laid down together. He can’t very well do any of that now. And he can’t possibly say anything because Tim is right here and the last thing Jason wants is to further expose himself to anyone else. So, he just bites back his comments and shrugs it all off.

“We can head back out if you guys are ready.” Jason suggests.

The three of you grab your things before you head from the Batcave and go back to Jason’s place. It’s quiet in your comms. Tim chalks it up to being tired, the adrenaline wearing off for all three of you. Jason just wants to get home and shake the night from his spine. You find yourself wondering if the gravity of vigilante life will ever wear off when something like tonight happens. You love it and you swear you do, it’s just really hard sometimes and you haven’t quite found the right way to cope with it.

You could have died tonight which is a reality most nights and it never seems like too big of a deal to you because it’s you and the person with a gun or a bomb or a knife. It’s just you. Not talking to Jason or seeing him has made it a little easier not to think about him doing the same thing. But tonight, the weight of loss collapsed your shoulders the second that roof fell. Jason pulled you out of the rubble. You heard the way his voice sounded, the tremble and the fear etched into his windpipe. You saw the look on his face when he pulled you out.

Panic. Relief. Panic. Terror. Anger.

And something else you don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole.

Something about the idea of him suffering in the way you did makes you want to turn the bike around and go as far as you can without looking back. And you think about how he could have been hurt again. You and Tim were trapped easily. What if he was, too? What if the roof fell on him and he died? You aren’t so sure you’d be able to survive the loss of him again. Even as you are today.

When you get back, Tim says a quick goodbye to you before disappearing into the building. Jason takes his time though, watching your brows pinch together as your stare falls anywhere but on him.

“You alright?” He asks carefully.

You nod and offer him a fake smile. “Yeah, all good.” You chew the inside of your cheek and you just don't want to go home. Going home sounds scary and like maybe it won't feel quite like home this time.

Jason nods back. “What’s wrong?”

He keeps his distance from you. He’s standing three feet away from you and he’s thinking that’s for the best. You aren't normally quiet after missions like this. It's as if talking always reassures you that you're both fine. But, tonight you were quiet and you look uncomfortable in your own skin. Jason doesn't want to overstep. He doesn't want to move closer and that be the real problem. You got a little close in the cave and Jason knows how you are with that. He's betting you still like to run so, he keeps his distance for right now.

“Nothing, why?” You ask and you keep your stance from him.

You want to kiss him and tell him you're glad he’s okay. You said it but you want to kiss him until he knows fully. Jason has never been one to take words at face value. He responds better with action and the only way you know to show your love for him is by touch. But, that's not fair to either of you. You would give anything to go back to how it was even if it's just for one night. You wish you could both forget everything that happened, pretend none of it happened. It would be so much easier that way.

“I always know when something’s wrong.” Jason sucks in a breath and he didn’t think he’d be the one pulling for answers from you.

You shake your head and lying to him never came easy.

You swore you’d never lie to him.

“Scary.” Your voice is so small and Jason almost closes the distance between you to engulf you in the tightest hug he could manage without hurting you.

But he cements his feet to the ground below him.

“You’re okay, though. So, is Tim.” Jason assures, his words careful.

“Yeah…” Your voice is still so small and Jason takes one step closer to you, knowing you and Tim aren't your full concern.

“I’m fine, ya know? Like…all good.” Jason keeps his voice level as his eyes scan over your face, looking for any change.

“No, I know.” You nod softly, your voice bigger this time.

You're worried he isn’t. The scans say he is and he says he is. You know he wouldn’t lie to you with you being worried. You know but you're worried anyway. He gets a second chance and he deserves it. He deserves it so much and you just want him to be happy and healthy. You want him to be able to live as the Jason Todd you fell in love with. You don’t want him to have any more trauma to try and bear. You aren’t so sure he could bear it anymore.

You think what would have happened if you didn’t get lucky tonight.

No part of you has to guess how it would go.

He’d blame himself. He’d torture himself inside and out just like you did.

“Just…” You shake your head. “Can you promise me something even if it’s not very fair?” Your eyes finally land on his.

“What?” Jason asks.

“If-if, uh, something happens to me…like anything, c-can you, uh,…not blame yourself, please?” You ask. “I-I know how you are and I saw the way you looked at me tonight. I know what it’s like and…” Your voice trails off.

“What?” Jason pushes, trying to wrap his head around the question. Of all the things you could be worried about, you're worried about how he'd react to you dying.

“I don’t want you to suffer for it.” You state. “You’ll torture yourself, I know you will. So, if something happens to me, can you promise me you won’t do that? Because I would never blame you.”

“What if it is my fault?” Jason scoffs. “Tonight--”

“It won’t be.” You cut him off entirely with so much certainty, it freezes Jason. “I know, despite it all, you would do everything to make sure I was okay. You, uh, you have always just, uh, j-just tried to keep me safe. So, if something happens, I know it won’t be your fault.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen anyway.” Jason answers back, digging his feet in because even a hypothetical question sends his head into a panic.

“But something did happen, Jay!” You yell back in desperation. “Something did!" Your eyes water before your voice comes back down. "I don’t want you to be like me.”

You nearly beg him and Jason is so thrown by what you say, he has to pause and try to understand. He swears you're the best person he has ever met. He loves you. He knows that it got messy but he also knows between those lines, him dying changed a part of you. It led you into a guilt you can’t shake and that he feels is on him. The least he can do is make the promise and try to keep it but he swears nothing can happen to you. He can’t let anything happen.

“Then you have to stop fucking blaming yourself, too.” Jason states back. “I died. That’s not on you." Jason says it so bluntly you nearly choke on your own heartbeat. "I promise but…you gotta promise me then you’re gonna stop blaming yourself, too. There was nothing you could have done.” The words are sour and bitter on his tongue. Knowing it was his fault he got himself killed is one of the hardest pills for him to swallow.

You nod your head softly and you can’t make the promise but you can promise to try. “I promise to try.”

“Good.” Jason states and he watches you tug your sleeve down over your wrist. Maybe he is very worried about you, too. Tonight was heavy and a lot to handle even if it all worked out. It almost didn't. Maybe it’s stupid but he doesn’t want to be alone tonight and he’s betting you don’t either. “Did, uh, did you wanna stay tonight?” Jason asks.

“W-what?” You stutter, the question catching you off guard.

“Did you wanna stay here?" Jason asks again, this time trying to make his voice sound far more casual than he's feeling. "Look, it’s not like we haven’t done this shit before.” Maybe he’s worried the scans are wrong, too and he just wants to look out for you. He misses you. “Just friends.” Jason assures you.

You were really hoping he'd ask.

“Can you, uh..."

“Of course.” Jason finishes before you get the chance to finish because he already knows. “I get to pick though, you picked the last three books.” Jason says with a tender smile and he gets one in return.

“Okay, Jay.” You nod as you take a step forward. “Thank you.”

“You and me.” Jason offers her his signature smirk with the casual shrug of his shoulders.

You stick your hand out and Jason takes it with ease. “You and me.” You echo while Jason pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders before the two of you walk into the building.

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#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #penance

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lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 4 months

Note

Hi! I really like your stories and I saw that requests were open, may I ask for a David or Marko X fem reader where they use like vampire mind powers on her? Could be soft or angst

Totally fine if you're not comfortable with it!

Hi! Thank you for requesting (and sorry for the wait. I had to finish uo some chapters of Changes before i lost the inspiration). I hope you like this!💜

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I was not a risk taker. That much I knew. I'd never speed while driving, I'd never trust someone blindly. I'd never went into a test, knowing I hadn't studied well. I never left anything up to chance, always trusting my own gut instinct more than I did anyone else. I never did anything without calculating the outcome first. So no, I did not take risks.

And yet, here I was, going out on what must now be my twenty-somethingth date with him. The ultimate risk taker. Seriously, if anyone was taking risks, it was him. Marko just loved irking people on and pissing them off just to see what would happen. He loved riding his bike, jumping over gaps and chasms he could find, laughing it off if it almost went wrong. He loved the thrill of the chase, the adventure, the unknown - and somehow that led him to me. Or me to him, I wasn't sure.

As much as all these things terrified me, I liked him. How could I not after dating him for quite some time, hanging out almost nightly and going on official dates every once in a while. He was funny charming, caring - and of course excelling at terrifying the living shit out of me by doing some weird stunt.

"Trust me, you're going to be fine."

I raised an eyebrow, looking at him. "I don't think cliff diving is a good idea when it's day. You really want me to do it at night?"

I looked down from the cliff we were standing on, looking down at the roaring waves clashing against sharp stones.

"I am with you," he turned to me, giving me a soft smile as he took my hand, "what's the worst that could happen?"

"I'd die by hitting those rocks? Or I drown? I've even heard of someone getting paralysed by hitting the water wrong, so-"

"I won't let that happen to you."

I rolled my eyes as i saw how much he struggled to not laugh. "I'm being serious, Marko! I don't think it's smart-"

"When is the last time you left things to chance?"

I shrugged, sitting down and letting my legs hang over the edge. "Can't remember."

"Must be stressful."

Marko sat down next to me.

"I don't know, it's what I'm used to. I'm just - I'm not a risk taker, you know?"

He chuckled, pulling me close. "I know. But I need you to trust me, just this once."

"I don't want to dive."

"I never said anything about diving, you concluded that when we got here."

"You never denied it either!"

He smirked, causing me to sigh as I looked at him. Still, I was curious. "Then what are we here to do?"

"Fly."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You have lost it."

"Come on, you'll love it!"

"Humans can't fly!"

"You know I'm not. And I know you want to. You said it yourself when I asked you about superpowers."

"Yeah, but that was hypothetical. Not real..." I trailed off, not looking at him. He sighed, standing up, offering his hand to me.

"I won't fly off the cliff, but I am going to take you flying."

"But what if-"

"Babe, look at me," Marko stared into my eyes, and I felt a sudden calm wash over me. "You are perfectly safe. You're going to be fine. Do you trust me?"

I blinked as I realised what he was doing. Mind control. And yet, that last question wasn't him controlling me, I realised. It was him asking permission. I nodded slowly, still feeling uncertain, but trusting him regardless.

Marko smiled, hugging me close before I felt the ground disappear from beneath my feet. I closed my eyes, too scared to look, but as Marko had promised, I felt perfectly safe.

"You can open your eyes, you know."

With an uncertain smile I did, looking at him and then at the sky around us. We weren't flying too high, only about six feet. If I fell, I would probably only be a little bruised - but I'd be fine. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded softly, adjusting my grip. Marko chuckled, landing slowly.

"That wasn't that bad, was it?"

I shook my head, hugging him tightly. "I just don't like taking leaps of faith."

"Babe," Marko looked at me, "why would you say that in such an apologetic tone? I don't fucking care. You teach me to become a little more careful, I teach you to become more care free-"

"Have I made you more careful?"

"You'd have a heart attack if you'd seen how I drove before meeting you."

I looked at him wide eyed. "I already have to fight a heart attack with how you drive!"

"Imagine," he said, giving me a kiss on my forehead as we walked back to his bike, "How bad it was before."

#the lost boys #tlb #marko #david #paul #the lost boys 1987 #dwayne #tlb 1987 #the lost boys x reader #marko x reader #marko tlb

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kitthepurplepotato · 1 year

Text

Week 10 - Now or Never

(Season 1 ending)

Summary: This awkwardness needs to end. You can’t really make it worse so you might as well just go for it.

How will Izuku react to your random outburst?

Warnings: Swear words

First Chapter Master List

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This is risky fucking business.

This whole idea feels like a stupid game where you have 300 different options with 300 different endings with no hints towards what’s right or wrong. It also doesn’t help that there is a poor girl trying to sleep in your bedroom so yelling Izuku’s face off in a loving way isn’t an option.

To be fair, you kinda know what you want to do and if it’s doesn’t work then shit, it can’t get worse, can it?

You tried to go with the flow; that ended up with you kissing Izuku on his sofa for an hour; long story short, it was a fail.

You tried to be nice and understanding towards Izuku’s feelings and let him keep his distance, which ended with you two being awkward and miserable because you have no idea how to be “buddies” anymore. So, that also failed.

This is why…

You chose violence.

“Midoriya fucking Izuku.” You yell-whisper into the dark room and he jumps up to a sitting position like a frightened little bunny.

“What have I done.” Midoriya mumbles and you really try your best to not smile at his terrified face illuminated by the soft moonlight.

“The fuck is this.” You throw a few of your old notes into the poor guy’s face. “And this.” You put the frame down at the coffee table nicely. “And this.” You pull out the little polaroid from your pajama pockets.

“Stop hanging out with Kacchan…” Midoriya whimpers in a high voice and it’s so fucking comedic you really want to laugh.

“Kacchan has nothing to do with this. I am done, Izuku. Why are we doing this? Why are you sleeping on the fucking sofa when there is a bed big enough for us both in your room, huh? Huh?”

Midoriya blinks twice, utterly confused; and to be honest, so are you, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I can’t keep doing this to you, it’s wrong…”

“What’s wrong?!” You yell-whisper again, jumping into his mumble. He’s frozen in one place like a deer in the headlights, not really ready for the emotional roller coaster but he takes it anyway, because he’s a good fucking boy.

“It means different to me than it does to you! And I can’t loose you because of this!” Midoriya’s voice is way louder than a whisper by the end of his sentence, but none of you really care at this point; you are quite sure your angry stomping woke Melissa up already anyway.

“That’s what I thought as well. That we don’t feel the same. But I’m 99% sure I was wrong about that.” You mumble and Izuku looks at you with a confused face.

“What?”

“Midoriya Izuku, I’m my own person and my feelings are mine and mine only, so don’t try to guess and give me feelings I don’t have without asking me about them.”

“I didn’t mean to do any of that, Y/N, I…” Izuku’s hands reach out towards you but he pulls them back to his side after a few awkward seconds.

“You see, this is what I’m done with.” You point at him. “You called me Sweet Pea every single day for two months, my own name feels foreign from your lips. It feels rude. You stopped reaching out to me, you pushed me away, and for what? To save our friendship? Izuku, look into my eyes and tell me you are happy now.”

Midoriya doesn’t look into your eyes and doesn’t say a word. “That’s what I thought.” You grumble. “But there is something you seem to forget, Izuku.” He looks up at that, his face still terrified. “I don’t need to take this. I don’t need to give in. If you carve our relationship the way it feels right, then I can do the same. You can’t tell me what to do and what not. With that said…”

This is it. This is fucking it.

You can’t back down now.

It only takes you four steps and one aggressive collar-grab to pull Izuku close and another smaller pull to slot your lips together with his. Izuku makes a small stuttering noise but his lips don’t move, so you take the initiative this time; your lips start to move frantically as you try your best to convey all your frustration and love into one short but heavy kiss. Izuku stays frozen in place and your resolve wavers from the lack of response, so you jerk back, already hating yourself for doing that to him; he’s tired and there is a guest in your room, the timing is off, everything is wrong, this was a terrible idea…

“Okay, m-maybe that was a bit too far, consent and all, I’m so…” You start to mumble, ready to fall on your knees and beg for forgiveness but you don’t have time for that as Izuku suddenly reaches out and pulls you forward by grabbing your neck, your body falling into his lap with the motion. He doesn’t waste a single second; his lips find yours in the middle of your messy fall, his kiss deep and nothing like the small pecks you got a week ago; it’s hot and heavy, full of emotions he can’t convey otherwise, full of words he can’t say out loud; his whole body shakes as he pulls you even closer, his hand grabbing the back of your T-shirt as though he’s terrified you’ll run away, while his other one pulls on the back of your hair in a heated but loving way; the first few kisses are hot and wet, there are tears on both of your faces but none of you care to notice it in the heat of the moment. Izuku sucks on your bottom lips and you open you mouth in surprise; he invites himself in, his tongue slowly mapping out every single crevice as he joins yours in a slow dance; you whimper into his mouth, hot all over, but even in the scorching heat, Izuku is careful and attentive, passionate but kind, and it’s so endearing to feel him holding himself back as he pushes you away to take a deep breath, his eyes dark like the night sky as he stares into your soul.

The room is silent; none of you really know what to say or where to go from here; you sit down on the armrest while Izuku pulls his legs up and hugs them close, then hides his face between his knees to take a few more deep breaths.

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll come to bed, okay?” He mumbles between two heavy pants.

“Uhm, y-yeah. That’s a g-good idea. See you there then.” You mumble awkwardly while you try your best to not freak out in front of him.

You started this. If you back down now, it was all for nothing and that’s not an option; not after the scorching hot kiss you just got offered in exchange.

~•🥦•~

“Can I come in?” Izuku knocks gently on the door, even though he’s halfway in already; you can’t see his face in the dark but you are quite sure he has a shy, suggestive smile on his lips as he does that.

“It’s funny how you never knock on my door but you do on your own.” You retort, trying to ease the sudden tension with a good joke; because damn, there is something in the air, let me tell you.

You have no idea what’s going on right now, to be honest. Was that kiss enough for him to understand you want to be his and his only? Are you dating now? Or are you… exploring? Are you roommates who officially kiss sometimes?

You should have been more clear about your intentions. Okay, Izuku isn’t a person who would be into the whole “friends with benefits” thing but still…

“You did tell me I tend to have the orders wrong, so…maybe it’s a personality trait?” Izu giggles while reminiscing about his drunk shenanigans in the forest.

“Well yeah, I’m sorry to be disappointing, but I’m more the ‘court me, love me then wash my back in the river, naked’ kinda gal.” You snicker as he sneaks closer to the bed.

“I’ll try to remember that, Sweet Pea.”

… and fuck, hearing your nickname from his lips again does some things to your heart.

“You better do, Izu-Izu.” You mumble as he crawls under the comforter with you. He doesn’t come close yet; he lays on his back first then changes his mind and turns over to you while he shamelessly stares at your face illuminated by the moonlight.

“I remember the first night when I came back and you were sleeping on the table. You were so beautiful.” Izuku sighs. “I thought I only feel this way about you because I’ve never shared a flat with a woman before. I forced my feelings down to not make it weird, but they bubbled up, time to time, and by the time I realized I’m going overboard, there was no way back; it was all over for me when I felt you in my arms for the first time. I knew I will never be able to let you go, even if it’s the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.” Izuku’s hand snakes towards you until he finds your hand under the covers; his thumb caresses your palms while he mutters into the sheets.

“I thought I’m just being a fangirl and I tried so hard to keep it that way. It took me forever to realize I don’t see you as pro hero Deku anymore and it was so painful when I did.” You mutter back.

“Why?” Izuku asks and you can’t help but laugh.

“Because there was no way in hell you would ever look at me any other way, Izu. At least I thought you wouldn’t. Pro hero Deku was already my dream guy but somehow, Izuku… was even better, even more unreachable. Because Izuku is perfect in every single way and I’m just me. I thought this Izuku guy deserves the world but I’m just a piece of sand on the beach.” You sigh into the small space between you two.

Izuku stays silent for a few moments.

“So you didn’t realize you were his world all along?” He whispers, his hands moving towards your middle to pull you close. Your heart makes a somersault in your chest.

“It had not cross my mind.” You smile with tears pooling in your eyes.

“This Izuku guy needs to get his shit together and show you then.” He smiles, his eyes just as wet as yours.

“Can he start with a good night kiss?” You ask cheekily.

“He certainly can.” Izuku answers with a mischievous smile on his face as he closes the distance between you two and pushes forward for a slow, deep kiss. Your bodies slot into each other perfectly, not a single millimeter left between you two as he pulls you closer and closer with every single, lazy kiss until the sun peeks through the window.

The poor boy will have a hard time waking up tomorrow morning, that’s for sure; but nothing in the whole wide world can ruin the giddy happiness you both feel as you snuggle into the other with lips puffy, red and tingly from all the kissing, bodies warm and comfortable under the featherlight cover as you take in the other’s scent, knowing this is what you will fall asleep to every single day for the rest of your lives.

The End…?!

…

“Sweet Pea, wake up.” A pleasant voice chirps into your ears, but it’s way too early and it’s so nice and warm in Izuku’s embrace…

“Fuck no, go away.” You grumble at the pleasant voice, pushing yourself deeper into Izuku’s chest to hide your ears from the annoying chirp.

“Fuck yes, you are suffering with me today, love.” Izuku giggles, leaving small kisses on your cheeks and forehead to wake you up.

“5 more minutes?” You whine but the boy is ruthless; his arms disappear from around you and it’s suddenly so cold and the bed isn’t as comfortable as it was a few seconds ago… “You are so mean!”

Izuku doesn’t answer for a while but you can hear the rustle of his costume as he changes. You really have the urge to peek, but you decide to behave yourself; you’ll be able to peek whenever you want in the near future, there is no reason to rush it. One thing at a time.

“You might wanna take a shower and brush your hair before I introduce you to my team. Sleepy Sweet Pea is my favorite Sweet Pea, but I would rather keep this look for myself, if you don’t mind me being a little bit selfish.” Izuku sits back, his fingers playing with your frizzy hair. It takes you a few seconds to understand the implications of the sentence, but when you do, you jump up as though someone just electrocuted you.

“WHAT?!”

“We are going to my agency. I’ll give you a complete tour. Then we will sneak into Kacchan’s agency to say hi.” Izuku fakes nonchalance but you can see the mischievous smile hiding behind his hands.

“OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO PRO HERO DEKU’S AGENCY OH MY GOD.” You jump into the greenette’s lap with zero shame. He giggles like a high school boy. You fucking love that giggle.

“You are literally in pro hero Deku’s lap right now, Sweets.” Midoriya comments with an incredulous look.

“Shut up Izuku and let me geek out!” You yell into the silence; Izuku winces from the loudness as it hits his sensitive ears but he can’t help the happy laugh bubbling up his chest.

“You haven’t changed at all.”

“Nope.” You grin as you jump off his lap to start to get ready. “Oh my god, okay, I need to shower, brush my hair, straighten it, put on some make up…” You start to mumble as you start running around in Izuku’s room in a frenzy. “This is not my room, fuck.” You giggle awkwardly as you look down at the random Deku hoodie you took out of his dresser by accident.

“You can wear that if you want.” Izuku winks and you are just about to become a blushing mess when a new voice joins the conversation.

“Come on, lovebirds, Mei’s plane arrives in an hour!” Melissa giggles outside.

“Oh fuck.” You laugh at your own shenanigans and make your way towards the main bathroom, but not before you leave a small, closed mouthed kiss on Izuku’s lips. “I’ll be ready in 10.”

“Minutes or hours?” Izuku retorts with his whole face red as a tomato; kissing in broad daylight is a new thing for you both.

“Oi, shut up, Mr. IWakeUpLookingPerfectAfter3HoursSleep.” You mumble under your breath as you sprint out of his room.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this happy in your whole life and fuck, it’s only going to get better from now on!

You can’t wait to tell Jirou about this and hug the shit out of her for forcing you to take a leap of faith and move in with a stranger.

You’ve definitely made the best decision of your life on that dreadful afternoon.

Click here for season 2!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- I can’t believe we are done with Season 1! I want to cry 😢 I hope you liked the “ending”. Obviously this story is far from being done hence why it might not feel like an actual ending. I have so many ideas and I really hope you guys will stay for season two!

- There will be a break next week then we are back in business! I already finished the new header so take a look!

- I want to thank you guys for all your comments and likes on this one, it was so much fun to read them all and I absolutely loved answering your questions about the story!

- Season 2 might have some other ships mentioned as well, I hope that’s fine! I’m also working on a Kirishima x Bakugou extra as I’m quite sure you guys already had a feeling there is something going on with those two in the background 😂

- Season two will be slightly more suggestive but in case I decide to go further than that I’ll make it a separate chapter and make sure you guys know it’s 18+, but I haven’t decided yet so feel free to tell me your thoughts! (It won’t be as suggestive as the S2 of my Bakugou story, Izuku isn’t that kinda guy. 😂)

- See you guys in two weeks, I love you all! 💕

TL: @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @kastuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @thekookiecorner @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya izuku x y/n #pro hero deku x reader #deku x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya fluff #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya izuku x you

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ussgallifrey · 3 months

Text

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 27

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, dialogue taken directly from Avengers: Age of Ultron, the Eternals being really bad at lying, dealing with their trauma and grief like ADULTS, excessive drinking, insane levels of foreshadowing, language, modern-day Ancient Grecian festivals, Wanda's canonical love of sitcoms.

✦ Word Count: 17.6k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

✦ Author's Note: Oh. My. God. I can't believe we're here at the final chapter of the Age of Ultron arc, the very biggest chapter of the entire story. This was so much fun to write. There's going to be some translations, and a follow-up Author's Note at the end of the chapter to keep this part spoiler-free. Enjoy!

[Master List]

The echoing screams are what pull you away from the low-lit comfort of your bedroom. As the highest shriek trembles down into shuddering sobs in the gentle stillness of night.

Putting your book to the side, you push away from the bed. Almost the second you open your door, the one across the hall from you is creaking open as well. With his ruffled bedhead and a muffled yawn, Steve gives you a familiar nod as you wordlessly move down the stairs to your unofficially assigned duties.

Pietro’s light is already on, his door ajar. While you continue down to the main level, Steve glides his way across the hall to the second door on the right.

Flicking the switch on the wall, the kitchen’s overhead light temporarily blinds your senses.

“Hey,” you give a worn sigh as you make your way over to the stove. “We talked about this. I know you have good intentions here, but - ”

“It is a calming method, is it not?” Vision questions in a slightly stilted tone as he holds the tea kettle above a red-hot burner.

Maybe those shrieking cries hadn’t just been from the traumatized girl upstairs, but from a whistling pot as well.

“Yeah, but it’s only effective if the water isn’t fully evaporated out. Sort of ruins the tea mix.”

“Ah,” he sighs, setting the kettle down on the adjoining burner. “This is still… confusing.”

With a shrug, you gently push him to the side as you move to fill the kettle back up at the sink, “Hey, you’re leagues ahead of most one-month-olds, give yourself some credit.”

He tilts his head, “I am not a human infant, the correlation does not compute.”

Pushing your hair over your shoulder as you return to the stove, you smile up at the man, “It was a joke, Vision. Or at least, an attempt at one. I’m too tired for this, honestly.”

“I was under the impression that deities did not require sleep.”

Placing the kettle down with a little more force than necessary, you fix the creation with a look.

It had been an odd month and a half for all of you.

Your time in Sokovia was still a close memory, as was apparent in the near-nightly nightmares of the youngest twin. Sometimes, when you close your eyes, you find yourself transported back to the battle. You could still hear the terrified screams, smell the decay around you, and worse yet feel the unmovable hand at your throat.

The team had stayed long after the battle to assist in the clean-up process. Which, in all actuality, just meant giving the bodies a dignified place to rest until a temporary morgue could be set up in a structurally stable location.

You all had worked well into the night before Steve began to wane. Gritted teeth and brushes of I’m fine went on for far too long before the multiple broken ribs, punctured spleen, and several large gashes finally took their toll on him. Natasha, Clint, and Sam hadn’t been much better off either.

But even after they were forcibly removed to seek medical treatment, you and Thor remained. To walk amongst the human race was an honor. You weren’t going to leave the scene of battle when such carnage was left behind.

It wasn’t until morning, when a slow and steady sunrise peaked over the mountains, that you were finally finished in your duties; aided by a handful of SHIELD agents and local residents who had returned in the early morning hours to see what was left of their city.

There wasn’t much of Old Town that remained standing. And, by last estimates, some 17,000 people had been infected and killed by Ultron’s nano-virus. Another 3,000 were killed during the battle, followed by thousands of injured and seriously critical patients in neighboring hospitals.

You didn’t even like thinking of the week’s total now; between Sokovia, New York, Johannesburg, and London. Not to mention Seoul, where Ultron had attacked Cho’s lab while you all had been distracted by other threats.

“Have I said something to upset you?”

The kettle is whistling.

Blinking, you pull the pot off the heat and fill the awaiting mug.

“No, not at all. Just… lost in thought,” you say with a distant voice as you add the herbal mix.

Vision gives you a hesitant nod.

After letting the tea steep for a moment, you give the man a gentle wave before you head up the stairs. He knew better than to follow after you now.

This had been another adjustment for you, in the aftermath of the battle.

As the Tower had been destroyed, the team split off in search of temporary living situations. Tony went to Malibu, Sam back to his place in D.C., and Clint had an apartment in the city somewhere that he and Natasha were crashing out at. Thor had been offered lodging with Tony, at Pepper’s insistence.

Which of course left one particular supersoldier.

Steve had been living at the tower for well over a year now; never bothering to get a place for himself in Brooklyn, or anywhere else in the city for that matter. It hadn’t even been a question to offer him a room at your house in Vermont after he was cleared from the hospital.

This only left the true question that was the twins and, well, Vision (as Thor soon named him).

They were technically minors and Vision was technically a weapon, but also a sentient being. The legality of it quickly became complicated by international law and Sokovian law and U.S. immigration and temporary refugee laws. You left all that up to Tony to deal with. He had an army of lawyers in hand for things of this nature, thankfully.

You didn’t want to just leave them there to deal with this newfound freedom on their own. You all knew HYDRA would be on the lookout for them, and if that wasn’t bad enough, you personally knew that SHIELD would be looking to take them in if at all possible as well.

And while it had been different for the others, who were all adults who could reasonably consent to things that Nick would offer, you were all too aware of the fragile state the twins were in. It was one thing to willingly join up with SHIELD, it was another to be convinced to join under possibly false pretenses.

You liked Nick, you trusted him to have your six, but there were certain things you would rather keep clear of his grasp.

If the tower had still been intact, perhaps you would have all gone to live there in a strange form of cohabitation. But, instead, you found yourself housing two mutants, a sentient computer, and a supersoldier. There were stranger things out there, you were sure of it.

Pushing the door to Wanda’s room open a little further, you offer the teen a gentle smile.

You had told Tony that you were used to dealing with teenage twins. Thankfully, he didn’t pester you with questions about that and had merely made temporary guardianship signed over to you.

Pietro is sitting next to her on the bed while Steve remains near the foot of the mattress.

Passing the tea along, you rest your weight against the dresser. Sometimes, she would be able to go back to sleep after a few minutes or an hour of talking. But, it looks like tonight is going to be another one of those situations.

After several minutes of the siblings speaking in hushed Sokovian to one another, the girl gathers the black comforter up and around her like a cloak and makes her way down the stairs with her brother at her side.

Steve gives a tired sigh, rubbing his jaw as he moves to stand beside you after flicking off her bedside light.

From here, you can hear the gentle click and hum of the box T.V. humming to life downstairs. You had offered up your vast collection of movies and shows to her on one of those first restless nights. She had an affinity for sitcoms and romantic comedies, oddly enough.

Offering the blonde a slow smile, you ask, “What was it tonight?”

He folds his arms over his chest, rocking back on his heels as he pointedly doesn’t look at you.

“Her, back in the cell… with the Hulk,” comes the terse breath a moment later.

You can’t help but grimace.

During the clean-up efforts, right after the battle, Bruce had transformed back to himself. And while the Hulk might not have noticed or even cared that Wanda was there, Bruce - the man - had very differing opinions on her presence there.

Holding a good amount of anger over her meddling in Johannesburg, he had almost fully transformed back into his green opposite when you and Thor had both tackled him - dragging him far, far away from the terrified girl. You understood, of course. She had gotten into his mind, had twisted it in such a way that he couldn’t regain control over his other self.

To see her standing there beside all of you was like being sent back to Johannesburg all over again. And to know the damage it has caused to both the city, the people, and Bruce’s own psyche.

While she was apologetic for her actions, you all knew that she was only a child, following the orders of another abusive force in her life. Bruce logically knew that as well, but he couldn’t help that momentary burst of rage that crippled him like venom.

In that sense, you were grateful that the tower was no more. You weren’t sure how they would be able to exist under one roof.

Not that Bruce stuck around long enough after you landed to find out.

Steve reaches out, taking hold of your forearm with his warm hand.

“It’s going to get better.”

With a shrug, you reply, “It’s okay if it doesn’t too. Not everything can be fixed with hope and well-wishing.”

His eye color seems dim in this light, not the usual electric blue you associate with the afternoon sky. Everything about Steve seemed rather dimmed this past month and a half, though. Perhaps, even you were dimmed, a palette of dreary colors that didn’t quite resemble your past self.

It had been a hard victory; one that was soured by so much death and destruction that you weren’t even sure if you could call the battle a victory. It was just finished. That’s all. The finish to a terrible threat.

He gives you a crooked smile, “Still, nothing wrong with hoping for better days.”

“Yeah,” you nod, holding back a yawn of your own.

With Wanda’s regular nightmares shaking the whole house and her screams echoing across the foundations, it was hard for even you to feel energized. Even with your pendant having a permanent position around your neck.

“You going back to bed?” he asks, gently nodding at your second yawn.

“Honestly? I don’t think I could sleep even if I wanted to.”

With a warm chuckle, Steve shakes his head, “Yeah. Me too.”

Together, you make your way downstairs to the living area. The lights are blessedly low, while the program on the TV is a little hard to look at. Pietro is curled up next to his sister, already snoring at the end of the couch. Wanda gives you a thankful nod as she continues to sip from her tea, pulling the comforter closer around her shoulders.

You and Steve find a spot on the loveseat opposite the couch, just under the window. Vision is hovering in the corner of the room, glancing through a book, though his eyes keep looking up at the TV whenever the laugh track plays.

He had been an entirely different addition to your household. Tony had offered to keep him down in Malibu until there was an adjustment period, but Pepper had been more hesitant. It was only after he picked up Thor’s hammer in the rubble of the market square that anyone on the team even felt comfortable having him around. There was so much of Ultron that could have been left in there.

But Tony had sacrificed JARVIS to the net, wiping every last trace of the rogue bot out. He would chase him to the deepest corners of the web to ensure it. That included Vision’s programming.

And, well, since you had a brief moment of clarity on the rooftop together, you volunteered to house him as well.

Steve’s arm wraps around the back of the sofa, his fingers brushing up against your left shoulder as you lean into him. He didn’t really care for these shows, but he didn’t like staying upstairs while the rest of you convened down here either.

“Oh, look. When it started, I was just trying to be nice to her because she was my brother’s girlfriend. And then, oh, one thing led to another and before I knew it we were… shopping.”

“Oh! Oh my god.”

“Honey, wait, we only did it once! It didn’t mean anything to me.”

“Yeah, right. Sure.”

“Really, Rachel, I was thinking of you the whole time!”

Wanda snorts as Monica chases Rachel across their apartment. Steve lulls his head downward, glancing at you with his soft sleep-deprived eyes. You smile back at him, moving in closer to his side, resting your head upon his shoulder as you tuck in for the rest of the night.

The team had been actively avoiding the public eye in the aftermath of Ultron. It was for the best - that’s what Tony’s PR team told you anyway. That’s another reason your house had been the perfect location to place the twins and Vision. It wasn’t public knowledge, the location of your home, and it was a good distance away from any major city. Unlike Tony down in Malibu, who frequently had paps outside of his mansion - waiting for a picture.

That’s why they decide to keep Steve’s birthday a smaller affair - aside from Steve’s own insistence on not making a big deal out of it. Somewhere upstate where they’re less likely to be recognized; questioned, ridiculed.

Well, the plan was to celebrate the supersoldier’s birthday on his actual birthday, but in the realm of superheroes, plans have a way of falling by the wayside. The team is sent to Atlanta to deal with a threat - you stay behind, for obvious reasons.

You’re in the middle of preparing a lunch for the teens, the next day, when you get a text from Tony.

Change of plans. Meet us in Albany round 7 for Capsicle’s shindig? x.

It would give you time to come up with arrangements for the three others in your house. No one felt particularly comfortable with leaving them to their own devices just yet. Not with HYDRA still being an active threat in the world.

And, since they were in the public image now, more than just the likes of an old military organization might want to get their hands on two enhanced kids. And a sentient being like Vision.

You make a call to an old friend and manage to arrive at the restaurant just an hour after the team does.

They’re all in an array of outfits - since they only had what was available in their go-bags to change into. Natasha has on a black cocktail dress, while Tony’s in a faded Metallica shirt and jeans. Thor has not changed from his armor, though his cape is absent. Clint has a baggy purple hoodie and grey sweatpants on. Only Steve and Sam look to be wearing their typical style of clothing, in all honesty.

“Hey, there she is!” Barton calls out, making everyone turn their head to see you.

“Who’s watching the Wonder Twins?” Tony questions, peering down from behind his sunglasses. Seriously, only that man would wear sunglasses indoors.

You smile at the belated birthday boy as you take a seat opposite him at the table. Squished between Clint and the resident billionaire, you answer lightly, “A friend.”

“Ooh, like a godly friend, or - ”

“Tony,” Steve sighs with a gentle shake of his head. “Just for one night.”

Stark gives an exaggerated groan, “Oh, for our resident centenarian…”

“He’s only ninety-seven,” Natasha reminds him behind the rim of her drink.

“Thirty, actually. Thank you,” Steve clarifies with another unruly sigh.

Your eyes meet his from across the white-clothed table, a smirk toying at your lips. Leave it to Tony to find the fanciest steak restaurant around.

“What, are we not counting your years in the ice anymore? Cause if that’s the case, man. You really gotta up the game on modern speaking and tech,” Clint rolls his eyes as he lazily folds his napkin into a swan beside you.

“I believe the Captain looks quite healthy for his advanced age,” Thor goads from the end of the table. “A healthy ninety, for sure.”

Steve just buries his head in his hands, a smile tugging at his lips, “This is why I never go to team dinners.”

Your laugh makes him look up. The glimmer of life in his eyes makes your heart swell.

It would take time for all of you to recover from Ultron’s terror, but you would get there… in time.

“So,” Tony sighs, leaning back in his chair, his hand upon his stomach. “I have a schedule out for everyone’s birthdays. Where do I put you two?”

You had just finished a very expensive meal of prime-cut steak selections, fresh-catch baked fish, too many countless appetizers and sides to count, and a very decadent birthday cake with glowing sparklers - because ninety-seven candles on top of a cake are apparently considered a fire risk.

Glancing down the table at your fellow God, you just laugh, throwing your balled-up white napkin at Tony.

“We do not abide by such… mortal things.”

“Well, you gotta have a birthdate, right?” Sam speaks up, one arm on the table as his other hand points between the two of you. “Didn’t just pop into existence one day and forget about it, you know?”

“Well…” you lull your head to the side.

“I knew it!” Clint cheers, “Fucking, what did I say? From the head of Zeus comes the goddess ATHENA.”

Pushing at his shoulder, Barton goes cackling to the side, unable to help himself after a drink too many.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m afraid it’s just not a done thing for us,” you apologize. “If you want, however. Pick a random Thursday, and call it Thor’s Day.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Thor chuckles, “No, it is quite literally my day amongst the practitioners of Norse beliefs in this realm.”

“And you,” Tony contemplates, words playing on his tongue. “Athena… Thena… Thur - no, Tue… no. Okay, help a guy out here.”

You laugh, catching sight of the content looking supersoldier from across the table. His eyes follow the conversation between you and the billionaire, a soft and equally amused smile on his face.

“Nothing like that for me, sorry, Tony. You’re just going to have to survive without throwing me a party.”

“Like hell, I will!” he sounds almost aghast, clutching a hand to his chest. “If you don’t give me one, I’m gonna go for April 1st or something, you know.”

Casually leaning back in your chair, you place your used utensils upon your empty plate. That cake had been delicious.

“Personally, I wouldn’t recommend it. Dionysus gets quite annoyed when people try to take his celebrations away from him.”

When you catch Steve’s curious look, you return his gaze to explain, “April 1st is the beginning of the Great Dionysia, a celebration created back in the 6th century, BC. He would take it as a great offense that anyone would be trying to celebrate me on that day.”

“Hang on!” Clint remarks, tapping at the table. “Athens. They literally named the place after you. There’s gotta be some kind of thing for you. A party, or a day, a week-long festival, right? I’m right, aren't I?”

“Fellas,” Natasha groans, lifting her glass toward you. “Leave the girl alone. Bad enough we have to suffer through Steve’s dronefest of a party. No offense.”

Steve holds up his hands, “None taken. Wasn’t my idea.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony chimes in. “Was there a thank you, Tony, in there that I didn’t catch? Perhaps a thank you for wining and dining us all on this beautiful evening, Tony?”

There’s a collective groan of Thank you Tony and Many thanks Stark, which seem to satisfy the man’s need for recognition for the night.

When you’re outside, long after the waitstaff usually closed up - but Tony had a very generous tip for the restaurant, so they didn’t mind as much - Clint, Natasha, and Sam say their goodbyes. Wishing Steve a good, belated, birthday before they head out.

Tony lingers around as Thor and Steve converse.

“No word yet on our Strucker double. Just some local guy who went missing about three months before everything went down. And as for the other thing - look. I’m doing my best, but the records from back then are shoddy at best…”

You just nod in return. It had been one of the few requests you had made to the billionaire after taking the teens in. It wasn’t necessarily pressing, but after so many years spent in HYDRA’s captivity, you knew there was a chance that information might help them.

“How are they though?” he asks, voice lowered, sunglasses hooked onto his shirt.

“Good as can be, considering,” you answer honestly. “Wanda has nightmares, Pietro does too, sometimes. But they seem to be adjusting well enough. No… accidental outbursts of, you know, magic. And Vision is… well… he’s Vision.”

At that, Tony lets out a bark of laughter.

“Hey, thanks again for that. Taking one for the team just... yeah. You know? But, good news, groundbreaking on the new location is in a week, so we might be looking at early September, mid-October for move-in?”

You blink, “That fast?”

He fixes you with a look.

“Sweetheart, with the right amount of money, you can afford the best contractors out there. I’m not pinching a dime on these plans.”

Stark had been planning the new Avengers location pretty much since the ride home from Sokovia. The blueprints were good to go by the end of the week. And that was between multiple press conferences, a hospital trip, several angry phone calls from Pepper, and trying to safely and legally get two child refugees into the country.

“Sounds like a plan,” you say lightly.

“Well,” he claps his hands, smiling brightly - drunkenly - as he snags his sunglasses to put back on his face. “Come on, Point Break. Let's leave Mr. and Mrs. Rogers to get back home.”

“Tony - ”

You roll your eyes, “Just because we live together, Tony - ”

“Yeah, but you two? So adorable. Like a little nuclear family. Mom, Dad, the two kids, and your cybernetic… pet. You know what - ”

“Okay,” Thor chuckles as Steve drags a hand down his face, a flush of red doting his cheeks. “I think even you’ve had too much to drink, Stark.”

After the God of Thunder manages to corral Tony into the back of his waiting car, Steve saunters over to you - one hand in his pocket and the other tossing his keys up and down.

“Where have I seen this before?” you laugh.

Steve grins, “Come on, let a guy offer you a ride.”

“Well,” you drawl as you both walk over toward his bike. “It is your birthday, after all, so I guess…”

It’s a two-hour ride back to Vermont.

Your hands remain around Steve’s waist as you travel across the lonely freeways and backcountry roads. The warmth of his leather jacket and the rich smell of his cologne keep you company for the ride. You have his shield on your back while his small go-bag is stored under the seat.

At this time of night, you can make out the distant constellations up above. You point them out as you drive, shouting their names for Steve to hear. At one point, he reaches a hand down to squeeze your right hand that’s held tight across his middle.

As he pulls onto the vacant road that leads up to the house, the engine puttering softly, he tilts his head back to say:

“You know, I don’t even think I asked who’s watching Wanda and Pietro?”

You chuckle, leaning your forehead against his upper back, “Just an old friend. He was free tonight, no big plans.”

There’s a nearly audible arch of his brow, “Old friend?”

You nod, letting him feel the gentle up and down of your head against his shoulder.

“From college,” you add.

You know he wants to ask more of you, but he waits until you’re back at the house. A handful of lights are on when you pull up - through the illusion. Downstairs is aglow in yellow tones, while a single bedroom on the second floor has a flashing melody of colorful lights. Wanda was definitely a fan of the mood lights Tony had purchased for her.

Steve parks the motorcycle near the porch. Holding out a hand to help you off the bike, you eagerly stretch your arms.

“Two hours on that might be too much,” you chuckle.

The supersoldier shakes his head, “It was like… an hour-forty, at most.”

“Oh, so you were speeding.”

Cracking a smile in your direction, Steve pulls the keys from the ignition and pockets them in his jacket. Handing over his shield, the supersoldier takes it in his right hand. Wrapping his left arm around your shoulders, the two of you walk up the creaking steps of the porch.

The house, in all honesty, is usually pretty quiet. Even with two teenagers living there. But Wanda and Pietro definitely weren’t your average teens. So, you didn’t question the silence that sometimes overtook your home. After nearly a decade of existing within HYDRA’s grasp, you knew their willingness and ability to make much noise was still limited.

However, you’re slightly surprised to hear a rapturous conversation taking place the minute you enter the central hallway.

Steve’s eyes are immediately locked on the kitchen. A certain change to his posture as he stands straight, shoulders back, chin up, gaze piercing.

Pushing a gentle defusing hand to his chest, you kick off your shoes and move through the archway to your right.

“Is that right?” Vision asks with a sense of excitement in his tone.

“No, it’s quite a fascinating topic if you have the time for it. You know, not many people know this, but - aye! There she is!”

Your smile blossoms into a bright grin as you cross the kitchen to greet the other man.

“Hello, Vision,” you pat the creation’s shoulder politely before you move to hug your friend, “Hi! Thank you again. How was it?”

Releasing you, his hand drifts to rest on your left shoulder.

“Good, really good. Well… quiet, actually. But they’re not too bad. Good kids at heart.”

“Yeah, they are,” Steve stands in the doorway, his arms crossed as he stares at your companion.

“Ah, Captain Rogers,” he says, letting go of you in favor of going over to shake Steve’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Steve glances at you for just a beat before he returns the handshake.

“Huh, good things I hope. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Uhm,” you cough, moving to stand beside the two men, “This is… Isaac, friend from college.”

“Isaac?” Ikaris mouths at you.

“Yeah, you mentioned that already,” Steve stares down at you.

Ikaris forces a smile, “Yeah we studied at… college, together.”

You actually want to hit him. Sersi was so much better at this than him. God, it was awful. But at least Steve has a hint of a smile on his face.

Leaning against the doorway, the supersoldier comments, “Didn’t notice a car in the drive.”

The Eternal looks to you, then, oddly enough, at Vision, before he answers, “Taxi.”

“Right,” Steve nods, biting his tongue. “Well, thank you anyway. It’s… sort of a sensitive situation here, you know.”

“Of course,” Ikaris nods in earnest. “Happy to help, obviously. And,” he looks down at you. “If you ever need anything, just… give me a call, yeah?”

“Will do,” you smile before pushing up on your toes to wrap him into a hug. “And thank you again. Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.”

He hums in return before he bids you all a goodnight.

You count his steps down the porch and into the yard before - yup.

Steve turns to look at you, “Power of flight?”

Offering him a sheepish smile, you shrug, “Amongst… other things?”

“God, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I think I’ve got the full picture of you and then you just go and surprise me again.”

You push at his shoulder, eyes locked on his as a smile teases at your lips, “You think you know a girl…”

“I'm sorry,” Vision interrupts, as he looks back at the two of you from his seated position. “Were we not supposed to acknowledge his enhanced state?”

Steve looks down at you, and you up at him before you both start laughing.

Even from out here on the porch steps, you can still smell the lingering scent of onion in the air. Latkes had become a bit of a staple meal around the house as of late. The twins only had vague memories of their life prior to HYDRA and that organization wasn’t exactly well-known for their catering options.

Wanda had newfound aversions to deal with, but Pietro was less particular in his meals. As long as it was filling, he would typically eat it. But the young witch had many opinions about the food you served, and how it was prepared. And you weren’t exactly known for your cooking skills, nor was Steve for that matter.

Potato pancakes were easy enough to make, and opening a can of vegetables or applesauce for a side seemed to do the trick.

It’s just the four of you again. Steve had been called away for a recon mission alongside Clint and Natasha two days ago. Even in a house full of people, his absence was felt by all.

Tony had honestly been right when he said that you had basically created a strange little nuclear family in your home.

“Hey,” you smile gently as you take a seat near Pietro on the steps. From here, you can watch the lightning bugs dancing in the tall grass.

The stars are just beginning to peak out from the violet sky as Wanda walks through the swaying flower fields with Pallas on her shoulder.

Your smile wanes as you catch him wiping a quick fist across his running nose, eyes trimmed with red rings.

The urge to ask are you okay is overwhelming, but you know better by now. It had taken some work with Steve to get him to refrain from asking that question too often as well. Ever since Pietro’s fist had gone through the wall beside the staircase.

His desperate no, I am not fucking fine still echoed in your mind.

He’s pointedly avoiding your gaze, just a step down from you, as he rests his arms on his knees, his head is balanced on the crook of his right elbow as he gazes out at the blinking bugs.

His voice cracks as he asks with a sniff, “When will the Captain return?”

Glancing down at Pietro, you turn your eyes to the evening landscape. The wind is warm on this late-July night. It sweeps across the fields and forest canopy, a loving caress against your bare arms and legs.

“I’m not sure.”

Wanda giggles as Pallas takes flight, swooping around her alongside the lightning bugs. She claps her hands together once, holding them to her lips as she watches the owl soar.

“You know,” you begin, leaning toward the boy. “Sometimes, you two remind me of my siblings. A twin pair actually.”

He hums in return, eyes still cast upon the land.

“Wanda reminds me of my sister. Keeping to herself, finding companionship in, well, everything but people,” you smirk as Pallas returns to her, landing upon her right shoulder before he toes his way over to her left.

“And you… an Apollo in the making. Bright, charming, quick-witted. He would have liked you.”

Pietro’s head lifts, a curious arch to his brow.

“I miss them,” you relent. “Almost twenty years since I saw either of them, but the ache doesn’t disappear.”

He nods, lightly jostling his leg up and down.

“I…” he clears his throat, drums his fingers upon his knee, “I don’t remember much before… you know. But sometimes I get these… glimpses of them. Our rodičia. I don’t think she remembers as much. Just that night when the apartment was blown up and that missile was just sitting there - for two days, two nights. But I…”

Pietro smiles. “I remember my mama’s hair; long, curling brown, blowing in the wind. White sheets hanging on a laundry line, shadows, a laugh. It all seems so far away at times.”

“You were young when you were taken.”

“Seven,” he nods. “We had been on the streets for two years when we were picked up. I can’t even remember my otec now. They… wiped it all away with their words, their machines, bastardi!”

You let the silence between you simmer for a moment, letting him ease his woes in the safety of your presence.

“I can’t even remember my own mother,” you admit in a broken whisper.

Pietro turns his head to look up at you.

“I thought people like you just… burst into existence.”

You give a hollow chuckle, “Not quite. She… she sacrificed herself to save me when I was very young.”

He blinks, lowering his gaze, “And… your father?”

Wrapping your hands into an enclosed fist, you let out a long breath.

“That’s… that’s another story entirely, Pietro. Me and the All-Father have a… complicated history in regards to certain things. At some moments, we were as close as can be and others… after Art and ‘Pollo left… well, don’t let me bore you with a Greek tragedy.”

His brow lifts, “Was that a joke?”

You shake your head, offering him a smile in return, “A hint of a pun, yes.”

He hums in return, leaning against the steps - his weight causing the old wood to creak - as he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. The warm evening wind rustles his stark white hair.

Steve returns on the 12th, several days past when he wants to be home. Things had gotten so tied up between the original mission and the HYDRA agent who ended up being an opening into an even bigger operation near the Mexican border.

He had heard mentions of Rumlow’s name on the wires and it felt like he had been running for nearly a week, chasing after another ghost.

The new compound along the Hudson was coming along. Tony was pleased to announce, when they landed the jet late last night, that the main housing unit for the team was completed - they were just waiting on the interior designer to drive up on Friday to finalize that last part of the process.

In the meantime, Tony had a folding camping table and deck chairs set up in the room he deemed their ‘war station… or whatever.’ So, Steve, Nat, and Clint spent three hours going through every last excruciating detail, followed up by marking known locations for both bases of operations and HYDRA agents for SHIELD to deal with.

By the time the sun was clipping the horizon, the supersoldier was in desperate need of a shower and a change of clothes. Luckily, the showers were set up and Tony had stocked the bathroom with exactly three towels. But that was more than Steve had been hoping for anyway, so he spent a long time soaking his aching muscles under the welcomed heat of the shower’s spray.

As he’s about to exit, he spots the billionaire with his feet kicked up on the folding table, a hand held to his forehead.

Tony peeks between his spread fingers as Steve draws near.

“The convenience of modern-day technology,” he sighs as a call comes through on his cell phone. He almost immediately swipes it over to the reject call button.

Steve lifts his brow in question.

“Well, ever since our little fuck up, I’ve had no less than seventeen daily calls between myself and Secretary Thaddeus Ross. If it’s not about dragging me in for a meeting or threatening to lock our asses up, he’s asking about Bruce’s location. Which, yeah, the man can go fuck himself in that sense.”

Resting his hands on his hips, the supersoldier shakes his head.

Things hadn’t eased up after Sokovia. He was starting to wonder if they ever would.

“But, that’s for me to deal with,” Tony shoves his feet onto the ground and stands with a groan before stretching his arms. “While you run and save the day, I’ll make sure the fridge stays stocked and your uniform doesn’t burst into flames or whatever it is I do exactly.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve looks down at the man with a genuine smile.

“Yeah, well,” he gabs, smacking the blonde on the arm as he passes him. “Say hi to the Missus for me, won’t you? And the kids. Those two adorable, rambunctious little tikes.”

Steve sighs, glancing up at the other man, “You’re never going to lay off that, are you?”

“Not until you plan on doing something about it. I’m all for the long game, but the betting pool is getting high, Rogers and Pep’s not gonna let me throw much more into that pot.”

Tony watches him as he goes through the doors to the recently paved driveway and parking lot. His bike remains under a protected shelter, clear of the elements with some fancy Stark Inudstries-branded cover over the motorcycle itself.

Throwing his go-bag under the seat and his shield over his shoulder, Steve mounts the seat and turns the ignition. The bike purrs under his hands.

The billionaire offers him a two-fingered salute as he pulls out onto the main road.

He just knew that he wanted to get home, back to you, in Vermont.

It still felt strange, to call that place home. Steve hadn’t had a proper place to call home since he was a kid in the 40s. He had a house in the Lower East Side, before the Battle of New York. And an apartment in D.C. during his time at SHIELD. But neither of those places felt like home.

They were adorned with his things; trinkets and items, that could remind him of a time and place far away from the 21st century. He had pictures of his friends, the Commandos. But even then, it was not a home.

But this, this strange cohabitation with the twins and Vision, and most importantly you? This is where Steve could truly say he felt at peace. It had been awkward at first, figuring out schedules and dealing with personal preferences, and hell, just being around two teenagers who were fresh out of HYDRA’s grasp.

And it wasn’t that his room on the third floor felt particularly like something he would style - though he had been able to switch out the lilac bedding and frills for things that were more his taste - the house just felt more homey than anything he had lived in after being recovered from the ice.

That was, in all honesty, probably due to you.

God, he was an idiot. Stark was right, he should be telling you or trying to tell you what he feels in his heart. But now it’s more of a challenge to get you alone as Wanda is usually glued to his side and Pietro to yours and it seems like there’s always a chance of Vision just floating through the walls to see what he’s up to.

But regardless of where he’s at in regards to admitting his deeply-held feelings, he’s anxious to get back to the house. To the place he’s easily calling home now, to anyone who asks.

And sure, Nat’s smirking when he says it and shooting glances at Barton, but he doesn’t care. This feels right. Deep in his bones, he knows it’s right.

And… maybe it's because he can forget about the world around him for a little while. Hidden off the grid, in an unmarked location. He can tune out the neverending news reports that call the Avengers the enemy, that demand retribution for their actions or inactions.

The endless journalistic segments that detail over each member of the team and their past failings. Histories that had once been buried under government security software. They call into question their integrity, their ability to handle situations, to aid in peace-keeping.

When he’s at the house, he can just push that all away.

He can just… sit on the porch, close his eyes, and breathe.

Steve’s not exactly expecting a welcome party when he pulls up the drive, two hours later. So, it’s a bit surprising when Wanda is running up to him.

Her hair’s tied back in a large puffy bun and she’s got a black sheer duster on that billows up behind her as she rushes down the stairs. And Steve’s got a quick remark on the tip of his tongue as he kills the engine on the bike, but there’s a look in her eyes that makes him pull it back.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t - they, they just came. And they took her and - ” her voice quivers as she points helplessly at the neighboring line of trees, just beyond the pasture. “And you said to stay at the house if any- if anyone came and I - ”

“Whoa,” he eases, standing up from the bike, his hands coming down upon her forearms in a gentle hold. “Who took her?”

“I don’t, I don’t know! We were in the kitchen and we were talking about Strucker and there was a knock and I didn’t even think! She just, gah, bodaj ho!”

Steve’s eyes are immediately intense, scoping the lay of the land, looking for a sign of struggle.

And then, from the forest, he hears the distant cry of:

“No! I swear to - STOP IT, right now!”

He’s not even thinking as he takes off running.

Your voice is clear as day even from such a great distance. Wanda is just behind him, several yards back. But from the porch, he can hear the confused voice of Pietro calling out to them both. And then the boy is right beside him -

“What? What is it?” he asks, keeping pace a little too easily with Steve.

But then you’re yelling again and the boy is gone in an instant and the supersoldier knows that he shouldn’t have let him go. Sure, you faced Ultron a few months back, but he was still a kid. And he was Steve’s responsibility.

“I swear to the All-Father if you even think for a second that I’m going to - ”

Steve’s pace slows as he enters a clearing. You glance up from the center of a group of women - one of them has a linen measuring tape held to your waist. The cross look upon your face immediately melts when you see him.

“Uh… hi,” you force a tight smile. “Uhm, Steve. You really shouldn’t - ”

But he’s already in front of you, keeping a wary eye on the women around you, “Are you okay? Wanda said - ”

“About that, I’m sorry. Uh… this is awkward.”

Turning to face the others, you ask, “Do you mind? You kind of dragged me off before I could really explain.”

A woman with rich brown skin shrugs. Her dark curls are haloed by a crown of pink and purple hyacinths.

“Just be back by dusk. You know how Di gets.”

And it’s really only now, as the two of you briefly converse, that Steve takes a second to look around at his surroundings.

The forest clearing has been swept clear of leaves and debris. Women are hanging lanterns from nearly every branch around this massive open space. And… yes, that tree is physically moving away from the center of the clearing.

Vision’s nearby, conversing with a man who has… goat legs. Apparently, the sentient being had been with you the entire time. Pietro’s standing off to the side, chatting with a blonde girl in a flowing white tunic when Wanda comes over the crest. Her eyes are just as wide as she takes in the scene.

“She’s fine,” Steve clarifies as she draws near.

“What is… this?”

The supersoldier shakes his head, “I honestly have no idea.”

There’s a canopy being set up by a handful of women now, with wooden tables placed underneath it. Almost immediately, items start appearing upon them; apples, breads and other baked goods, olives. So many olives.

Pallas lands on his shoulder just a second later, obviously sensing his confusion and slight distress from afar. He shoves his beak into Steve’s hair and the supersoldier’s quick to place a hand upon the owl’s head.

“Yeah, I hear you, buddy,” he breathes out.

When you finally break free, you saunter over to him with such a sense of awkward tension that Steve almost doesn’t recognize you beneath it.

“So…”

He blinks, looking out at the women before his gaze drops back to your face.

“What is happening right now?”

“Do you remember, last month, at your birthday dinner?”

He nods.

“When I told Tony that they don’t really… do that for me and Thor. And I said that I don’t have any real celebration associated with me?”

Steve nods again. Pallas pecks at the shell of his ear.

“Okay, well… that might have been a bit of a lie. This is… well, it’s uhm. It’s the last day of the Panathenaia. And my very unofficial birthday.”

He’s gawking, he knows he is, but he can’t seem to close his mouth.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I know,” you scrub a hand down your face. “It’s just… I’m not a fan of the pomp and circumstance anymore.”

“You…” he stumbles over his words as he helplessly blinks down at you, a new revelation bursting like a firework in his mind. “Are you telling me you actually have a birthday and that you’ve been keeping it a secret?”

“Well,” you shrug, crossing your arms as you both watch another three oak trees uproot themselves and begin walking further into the forest.

“Not so much a lie as it was an omission of truth, right? I mean, last year? I was in France when it came around, no one to tell, no one to celebrate it with. The year before that? I was on Olympus. And before that, I was on Axariun III with my father. And well, before that we didn’t even know each other yet. So, all in all… not really me lying.”

“It feels like lying,” he clips, but a smile is playing at the corner of his lips.

“Fair enough,” you sigh.

Steve drums his fingers along the seam of his jeans as he turns, slowly, to take in all the preparations - if that was even the right word.

“So… the Panathea - ”

“Panathenaia,” you correct gently.

“That. What exactly does it entail?”

You grit your teeth, rubbing at your arms for a moment as you look over at the ever-growing table of food that seemed to be materializing out of nowhere.

“Uhm, drinking, dancing, general merry-making. The occasional athletic competition. They throw me in a peplos and offerings are made in my honor, and someone inevitably starts an orgy before the night’s over.”

Steve’s head whips around to look at you, but you’re not even phased by the words that have just left your mouth.

Right, he tries to remind himself. Greek mythology was literally your personal history.

“And this is the… set-up for it?”

“Yeah. Usually, I’m back home when the day comes around, but… well, extenuating circumstances this year kind of kept me Earth-bound.”

“Right,” he nods. “Yeah, that… that makes sense.”

You’re staring at him with slightly concerned eyes, so Steve forces a smile while his mind is honestly still reeling from the new bombshell.

“Want me to introduce you to everyone?”

Noticing the twins off to the side, now conversing with a handful of women - one of them is placing a white floral wreath on Wanda’s head, Steve merely nods.

“Lead the way,” he holds out his hand in earnest. Pallas ruffles his feathers.

First, you introduce him to the Dryads. A group of women with varying shades of rust-colored hair and bark-like skin, who saunter out of the oak trees.

“They were just moving them to clear the area,” you explain.

Steve just responds with a polite nod, because yes, of course, that was completely normal and didn't phase him one bit. He had witnessed aliens from space. Wood nymphs shouldn’t be all that surprising to him.

This is followed by the Anthousai, a group of flower nymphs who are shorter than even Wanda, all of which are decorated with intricate crowns of blooms and blossoms.

The woman you had been speaking to earlier is Euphrosyne. She offers the owl on Steve’s shoulder a polite pat on the head.

“My half-sister. Goddess of joy, mirth, and merriment.”

Followed by a doe-eyed red-head who is named Pannychis who you explain is the Goddess of all-night festivity. And Thalia, who is also your half-sister, and the one in charge of the festive celebration and the provision of a luxurious banquet.

“Uhm, this is my nephew, Comus.”

A young teen with strawberry-blonde curls blinks up at him from behind the edge of a golden cup.

“Son of Dionysus, quite infamous for his revelries, festivities, and general merry-making. Which, weren’t you supposed to be helping Euphrosyne plan?”

“Don’t tell her where I am,” The boy smirks before he dips away, grabbing another goblet from a table as he goes.

“And there’s still a few around here who are too busy to introduce just yet. But… yeah, that’s the beginning of this madness, really,” you pause, looking around with your hands upon your hips. And then you turn to look back at him, “I’m honestly so sorry to be dragging you into this. If you want to just hang back at the house tonight and try to ignore the noise, I completely understand.”

Steve leans against one of the posts keeping the canopy aloft. Pallas gnaws at his hair.

“Are you kidding me? Like I’m going to miss out on this?”

Your brows lift in surprise, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, of course. You’re one of the most important people in my life, Athena. If you want me here, I’m going to be here.”

“Ooh, taking one for the team, I see. Well, even if I can’t have everyone else here tonight, at least I’ll have one Avenger on my side.”

He laughs, “I mean, it’s not every day you get to experience an otherworldly festival steeped in antiquity.”

You stare at him for a long silent moment before you shove at his left arm. Steve lets you move him, a laugh startling out from his chest.

“Hey, you’re making me sound old!”

“Aren’t you a little, considering?” he gestures at the flowing tunics of your companions and relatives.

“Yeah, but… you don’t have to say it like that.”

Steve wraps his free arm around your shoulders, gently jostling you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you a little sensitive about the age thing? Cause, take it from someone who frequently gets the grandpa jokes. I just want you to know, that I’m never dropping this.”

“Come on, Rogers! It’s funny when we say it.”

He snorts, “No trouble dealing it out my way, but not as fun when it’s returned, is that it?”

“Well,” you pull away from his grasp, wrapping your hands around your arms as you turn away, an indignant clip to your voice. “You know what they say about ladies and their ages.”

Steve laughs, trailing after you before he can wrap his arms around your torso. A furious blush graces his face as you lean back into him, your head against his sternum.

“Don’t be like that. It’ll be fun, I promise,” he speaks into your hair.

Your right hand comes up and pats at his arm that’s resting across your chest.

“You say that now. Wait till you see the dress they put me in.”

A twitch of arousal sparks through his body and he quickly releases you from his hold, but he plays it off with a laugh.

“Honestly, I can’t wait.”

You smack his chest with your hand, “You’re the worst, Rogers. Please remember that. The worst.”

As you walk away to go and converse with your relatives, Steve shyly scratches the back of his head.

He makes the unfortunate mistake of glancing over at the twins, who are both looking back at him with nearly identical smirks on their faces. Fantastic, as if he needed two teenagers on his case now as well.

Turning in the opposite direction, he makes it up the hill - back toward the house - when he extends his arm out for Pallas to move down on.

The tawny brown owl blinks up at Steve with his dark eyes and a curious tilt of his head.

“Hey, pal. If I gave you a message, do you think you could deliver it to a few friends for me?”

He squawks in return, almost as if sensing what the supersoldier has planned.

The fading orange hues of sunset are just barely visible through the gaps in the forest’s lush canopy. Steve smiles at your loyal companion as he swoops across the established party area before landing in a tree along the outskirts of the circle. Keeping watch like always.

People in flowing robes and tunics move through the space with such ease that Steve feels even more like an outlier than usual. The twins, and even Vision, are in attendance - at your insistence. Wanda’s hair is loose, adorned by that white floral wreath still. Her eyes are alight as she watches the strangers with unbridled excitement.

Even Pietro has a leaf-woven crown on as he tries to chat up another girl with long dark hair and amethyst eyes.

“Guys, this is my sister, Hebe,” you interrupt with a tight smile as you loop your arm through the girl’s - effectively pulling her away from the boy. “Hedylogos was looking for you.”

The girl’s cheeks blush into a full blossom of red as she quickly darts off toward the other end of the party.

You look down at Pietro before slapping his shoulder with a light hand, “Seriously? If I’m told you’re hitting on another one of my relatives, I swear I’m going to throw those shoes you like out.”

He balks, “You wouldn’t.”

Steve smirks, lowering his stance to speak to the teen, “I wouldn’t risk it, personally.”

Wanda snorts, looping her arm through her brother’s, “Come. I see food and drink.”

“Guys, don’t take anything in a gold goblet!” Steve calls out.

“Especially if a man in purple robes hands it to you!” You add with a laugh.

With a sigh, you turn back to look at the supersoldier. Steve’s already looking down at you with warmth in his gaze. It’s like witnessing a different side to you, free from the heaviness of battle. Right now, you were removed from the usual expectations put upon you and it was beautiful to see. How you moved between the party-goers, an easy smile on your face, and a laugh on your lips.

“This is nice,” he comments, looking around at the simple gathering.

You blink.

“You know it hasn’t actually started yet, right?”

And then you’re sipping red wine from a goblet encrusted with jewels and you’ve got a playful look on your face and Steve, for as out of place as he feels, just wants to kiss you right here and now.

He shoves his hands into his jean pockets instead.

“Is that right?”

“Come on!” you exclaim, “We’re Olympians, this is barely a family gathering. Wait till the man of the hour appears.”

Shaking his head with mirth, he asks, “I thought you were the one being celebrated here?”

“Oh, I am,” you reassure as you take another drink. “But, well, you’ve met my brother but you haven’t really seen him yet. You’ll… you’ll understand what I mean.”

Accepting that as answer enough, Steve gives a nod and takes a sip of his own wine as more and more people begin to appear in the clearing.

It would surprise him if SHIELD or some other government agency wasn’t picking up on all of the energy signatures materializing in this forest in the middle of Vermont. Slowly but surely, the dance floor and surrounding tables and benches are filled up by more and more patrons.

You introduce him to a four-armed woman with a golden crown. Her dark hair is adorned with a large white lotus blossom. She smiles sweetly at him as she converses with you in another language entirely. Steve watches the two of you as her companion, a swan, pokes around at his shoes.

When she leaves, you turn back to him with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, I keep abandoning you to go talk to everyone.”

Steve’s brow scrunches in confusion, “It’s your party, you shouldn’t expect to have me glued to your side the entire night. Go, I can hang out with the kids and Vision. I’m sure you haven’t seen some of your friends in a while.”

“No,” you sigh, encircling his wrist with your palm. “Having you beside me is the only thing keeping me from running off right now.”

Looking down at you with an aching expression, Steve slowly slips his hand free from your grasp, only to lock your fingers together.

“Okay,” he says.

Your worried brow softens, a smile teasing at your lips once again.

“I do miss them. I haven’t seen Sarasvati in ages, but… I prefer small gatherings over, well, this.”

He squeezes your hand, “I understand, trust me.”

As a sense of true peace settles around the two of you, you’re swiftly interrupted by the sound of hand drums beating out a melody.

“Ladies! Gentlemen! And gentle beings alike!”

Steve cranes his neck, and you stand upon your toes, as a shrill voice calls out from the center of the party.

“That’s Eupheme,” you whisper.

“I have the sole honor of presenting the Lord of Celebration himself. The Granter of Blessings, the Kind-Hearted Savior, the God of Wine, our dearest Dionysus!”

Several people cheer, others clap, and some even whoop in delight as a processional band from atop the ledge of the forest floor begins to play.

“Τοῦ Διὸς ὁ παῖς ὁ Βάκχος, ὁ λυσίφρων - ”

As the large swaying line of white-robbed people begins making their way down to the party, you lean up - clutching his shoulder - as you begin translating:

“The son of Zeus, Bacchus,” you whisper-sing into his ear. “The liberator of mind, the Lyaeos, the Lyaeos, the Lyaeos.”

“ὅταν εἰς φρένας τὰς ἐμάς εἰσέλθηι - ”

Steve can feel the warmth of your breath against the shell of his ear and the length of his neck. He grips your waist in his right hand as you continue translating.

“When he enters in our mind. By making it drunk, making it drunk, making it drunk - ”

“διδάσκει με, διδάσκει με, διδάσκει με χορεύειν.”

“He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance.”

The processional breaks through the space, a line of people and goats and musicians. Aloft a gold and purple cushion, held by four young men, sits your brother. A laurel wreath around his head as he raises his goblet at the many faces he spots in the crowd. He cheers your name as he passes, but you’re still there glued to Steve’s side. The melodic sound of your words against his ear is a heated delight.

“ἔχω δέ τι καὶ τερπνόν o, ὁ τᾶς μέθας ἐραστάς, ὁ τᾶς μέθας ἐραστάς,”

“And I the lover of drunkeness have, desire for satisfaction, desire for satisfaction.”

His fingers dig into the jut of your waist, pulling you impossibly tighter as everyone around you throws flower petals at the God of Wine.

“With beats and songs makes me happily as does Aphrodite, Aphrodite, Aphrodite. He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance. He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance. Again I want to dance, to dance - Oh!”

You’re pulled from his grasp by two women adored in ivy crowns. Giving a sheepish smile in his direction, Steve watches as you’re tugged into the center of the celebration.

As his heart eases back to a normal beat and the furious heat in his cheeks begins to lessen, the drummers begin beating upon their handheld instruments.

“My most beautiful friends!” Your brother cheers, his sloshing goblet held high above his head. “Tonight, on this blessed last night of Hekatombaiōn, I wish you all to welcome my lovely sister: the Champion of Olympus, the Beloved, the Wise, the Traveler Amongst Mortals, the Goddess Athena!”

Several loud whistles ring out across the forest as Steve joins in with the clapping. You’re shoved into your brother’s side, an unabashed smile on your face as you push back your hair.

“As the unofficial party master - ”

“Unofficial, seriously?” you ask with a laugh.

“I hereby declare that this Greater Panathenaia begins!”

As the crowd cheers in delight, the musicians belting out a jaunty tune, Steve watches as you shove at your brother’s arm before wrapping him up into a quick hug.

“You’re the worst, you know that right?” he can hear you ask.

The man shrugs, completely unbothered, “You’ll thank me later.”

“Wow.”

Steve turns his head, a smile immediately gracing his face as he spots Tony amongst the robe-clad patrons.

“I’m not gonna lie, I feel a little overdressed.”

He claps his hand in the supersoldier’s for a quick shake as the rest of the team slowly appears from behind him.

“Oh,” a sultry voice comes from beside Tony, a soft hand caressing his face.

Steve’s brows rise.

“We can fix that,” the woman grins, a hand pulling at the billionaire’s arm as she begins to drag him away from Steve.

Tony chokes, “I mean, when I said that, actually, what I meant was - ”

Steve laughs, a deep belly rumble, as Stark helplessly looks back at him before he truly disappears somewhere into the roving group of partiers.

“We’re never letting him live this down,” Nat smirks, arms crossed as she watches the procession swoop you up into a dance number - you stuck in the middle as they circle around you. “Or Seven, for that matter.”

“Thanks for coming,” he says, his eyes never really traveling farther than you.

“Shame she tried to keep us out of the loop with it. Families though, they can be rough from what I’ve heard.”

He shrugs, taking a sip from his goblet.

“Her’s don’t seem all that bad.”

Nat’s emerald eyes meet his in the lantern light and flickering flames, “You still haven’t met the old man yet, have you Rogers?”

With a twisted grin that seems to say it all, she takes Clint’s hand - he’s wide-eyed and his mouth is fully agape - and blends into the crowd.

Steve lets that thought simmer for just a moment in his head before he gulps down the rest of his wine and successfully pushes it to the back of his mind. Weaving through the other patrons, he spots the twins at a table under the canopy - talking to a group of Olympians who look around their age. But with godlike immortality, they could well be a thousand or so years older than Wanda and Pietro.

He smiles as the girl catches his eye, offering her a nod of reassurance before he moves on past the overflowing tables of what he now understands to be offerings.

You had explained it all rather quickly that afternoon to him. But he takes his time looking down at the array of items. Lots of olives still. But now he also spots wooden owl statues, pomegranates, oranges, feathers, small embroideries, and drawings. Hell, some of them looked like fan art the team regularly received, but with your image upon the crayon-dusted lines.

He accidentally bumps into the arm of a boy as a group of women crowds into the tent. Steve goes to apologize, but when the kid looks up at him, he feels rooted to the spot when he notices the rather large unfurled white wings on the youth’s back.

“Sorry, a bit of bad luck there, right? You must be one of those mortals my aunt’s always going on about. I’m Anteros. And you are… oh, wow. I see. Bit of a heart-on-the-sleeve type, yeah?”

As Steve goes to back away from the boy, the kid merely shakes out his bouncing dark curls and laughs.

“You’re not used to that are you? Don’t worry,” he smiles as he nabs an apple from your offering table, taking a loud bite out of the fruit; juice dribbling down his chin. “She’ll get there eventually. I might not be part of the Fates, but I can see some things in that regard. Mmm,” he chuckles, chewing the white chunks with a slightly opened mouth.

“Better stay away from my friend Pothos, or he’ll read you right down to the bone with all that energy going on in there.”

“Right,” is all Steve can say because he honestly has no idea what exactly has just happened, only that he feels very raw and vulnerable being next to this kid whose eyes are far too old for his youthful face and body.

As he exits the tent, he runs right into you. Oh, thank god.

“Hey,” you beam up at him with dazzling dark eyes. “Did I just see Hedona fitting Tony for a chiton? Also, when did they get here? How did they know?”

“Might have had help from Pallas…”

“Steve,” you beam.

But there must be a look on his face because your features fall.

“You okay?”

“Wha - yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry, there’s just a lot of relatives around and I feel a little… weird about meeting literal mythological legends. I think I just met your nephew possibly?”

You make a humming noise in your throat as you look over his shoulder, “Oh, Cronus. The Erotes. No wonder you look frazzled, Rogers. My deepest apologies. Stay away from the young boys with hearts in their eyes, okay? Menaces, all of them.”

And then you’re tugging on his arm, forcing Steve’s head closer to your lips.

“Come on, I’m trying to avoid the Charites for as long as possible.”

Words come to his lips like why and what, but they’re droned out by the raucous sound of music and inebriated party-goers.

Steve lets you lead him by the hand through the madness and joy. Swerving through dance circles and casual drinking groups, offering a word of thanks for attending the celebration and a surprising introduction on his behalf.

“Seshat! Thoth, so glad you could make it.”

You’ve just run into a woman with heavy kohl-lined eyes and a yellow animal print tunic. But beside her stands a man with a bird-like head and a long blue cowl. He’s only wearing a low-hanging robe around his waist. He tilts his head in a very bird-ish fashion as he looks down at the two of you.

“It’s been so long, my friend!” the woman beams, grasping your free hand in hers.

You hadn’t let go of Steve’s right hand yet. He’s trying his best not to feel smug about it.

He’s been introduced to the large and incredibly interesting friend group you had long been keeping to yourself. The supersoldier meets a man with a lion head, an Aztec or possibly Mayan deity (Steve couldn’t actually hear his name over the sound of the musicians striking up another song). As well as so many Olympians, he’s fully lost track.

But above all of the noise and splendor, he hears Clint start roaring with laughter. Trailing his eyes across the crowd, he immediately spots the source of his amusement. Tapping you on the shoulder, he stands back and watches.

You turn, the question of what is on your lips, but you immediately hold a hand to your mouth to keep from outright bursting into laughter.

“Okay, little more breezy than what I was expecting,” Tony admits as he draws closer to them.

“Wow, it’s… quite a look,” Steve attempts to restrain his own laughter.

Stark does a little spin, showcasing the simple red tunic with a single gold clasp at his left shoulder. The arc reactor glows a faint blue light from the center of the cloth, making him look both ancient and alien all at once. The hem of the garment is far above his knees, with the threat of showcasing more than Steve would ever wish to see just a sudden gust of wind away.

A camera clicks, followed by a flash, as Nat tucks away her phone.

“Very dashing. Watch out for breezes.”

“Eegh,” Tony groans, holding his hands to the hem of the fabric.

Steve’s so distracted by the strange display in front of him, that he’s failed to notice the woman you’re now talking with.

“I didn’t realize mortal men could be so dashing.”

“Surely you remember the likes of Perseus or Achilles.”

“Mhmm, but there’s something just... intriguing about these new ones. They don’t need you or the All-Father to be powerful, they just are on their own.”

His ears are burning as he tries not to interrupt your conversation, but then he feels your fingers slipping around his wrist, squeezing lightly against his pulse point.

“Sorry, I don’t think I had the chance to introduce you. Philophrosyne, this is my dearest friend, Steve Rogers.”

“Oh, pleasure’s all mine,” she smiles brightly. “But, I’m afraid I’m here for more nefarious means, apologies, sir.”

And then she’s got a hand on your forearm and she’s calling out, “SHE’S OVER HERE!”

Shooting Steve a helpless look, you whisper, “Save me,” before you’re dragged away by a group of smiling women.

He hears mention of a dress and Steve just chuckles, watching you go.

“You look divine, my lady,” one of the young girls says as she looks up at you with sheer delight.

“Thank you,” you respond with genuine gratitude.

While you had made a rather large fuss about the party and the dress and, well, everything to do with the celebrations, you did sort of enjoy it. Long ago, the Athenians had worshipped you in grand week-long festivals. It had been a point of pride and amusement for you as your temple was filled with offerings in your name.

Now, several millennia later, you found yourself, at times, nostalgic for those days. The concept of birthdays had never been a tradition amongst your people. But, as the decades drew on, some small mortal festivities became familiar on Olympus.

“It’s a very fine dress, indeed. I can see the love and hours spent upon it,” you remark with a wink.

Gazing before the standing mirror in your room, back at the house, you admire the sky blue peplos. The sleeves and waist are embellished with golden floral trim, with hints of purple thread that seem to shimmer against the soft blue linen. The sleeves are clasped by two golden pins, each of which is decorated with an owl’s head.

The loose fabric sways as you walk back across the pastures with your personal procession of weavers. Only, when you catch the strange silhouette against the moonlight, do you beg your companions for a moment of solitude.

Finding yourself following in the familiar footsteps left from a few months prior, you move to join Thor against the tall grass of the overlook.

“Ah, my Lady Athena,” he greets, beaming down at you. “‘Tis a fine garment.”

“Thank you. I had hoped to see you at the festivities this night, my friend.”

He chuckles. The loose strands of his hair flutter in the evening breeze, a warm stretch of summer night blanketing the sky with splatters of glistening stars.

“I can not intrude on such an event.”

Biting at your lip for just a moment, you nod, “Well, I suppose that would be true if you were not on the arm of the one being honored.”

His dark eyes gaze down at your offered arm for just a beat before his bellowing laugh echoes across the countryside.

When the two of you, and your procession, appear at the top of the hill leading down to the forest clearing, the musicians break off as your sister, of all people, takes the floor.

“My most gentle patrons, I wish for you all to now gaze your eyes upon the Daughter of Zeus, the Goddess… Athena.”

Giving a small giggle of anticipation, your hand grips Thor’s arm as you descend.

“My friends, family, and drunken guests!” you call out, receiving a chorus of laughter. “Tonight, I wish you all to welcome my honored guest with open arms as you would me. The Protector of the Nine Realms, the Wielder of Mjolnir, the Champion of Midgard, the God of Thunder, the Son of Odin, Thor.”

A few people clap, but you’re quick to add on:

“And if you refuse his presence, I’m going to have Dionysus throw out the good wine.”

“DON’T YOU DARE!” Comes the immediate and indignant shout of terror from your brother.

Soon, the partiers begin to laugh and cheer as the musicians pick back up with another song.

Thor leans down, kissing your cheek.

“Thank you for allowing me to grace your… humble celebration. Wait - ” His voice clips as he looks out over the crowd. “Is that… is that Bragi? I can’t be here but he damn well can?”

You give the God of Thunder a shrug, “To be fair, you have tried to kill or badly maim most people here, Odinson. You can’t expect them to not hold a grudge.”

“But… but…” he mutters, eyes shifting between you and his fellow Asgardian.

“And Bragi gets on well with a few of us, he’s always around for poetry readings and the every-other-decade book club meeting.”

His features pale, “You’re kidding me.”

“Wish I was,” you grin in return, lightly smacking his cheek with your hand. “Have fun. Don’t bed too many of my relatives. If they don’t try to slap you first, now that I think of it.”

You watch as he heads over to the bar filled with many of your brother’s finest spirits. With a smile on your face that seems incapable of fading, you make your way through the crowd in search of your other friends.

To your surprise, you find Steve locked into a conversation with both Sersi and Sprite - who remains in her natural form.

“ - yeah, no. We’ve known each other for… a while. Uhm, college roommates actually, in London.”

“Wow, really?” Steve asks, with a voice that clearly says that he’s not buying it, but his smile doesn’t really give him away and Sersi seems oblivious to his suspicion.

But as he goes to take a sip from his goblet, his eyes catch sight of you. And you can’t help it as you wrap your hands over your bare arms as you make your way over, feeling sheepish and strange in the garments of your kind.

“Whoa,” he says as he sets his goblet down. “You look… wow.”

“Hopefully that was a good wow?” you try to joke.

Sprite snorts, face in her goblet, “Obviously.”

“Hey! See you’ve met my friend from college and her… niece?”

Sersi nods quickly in return. Steve just turns his head, hiding his blossoming smile from her.

“Anyway!” she turns back, grabbing hold of your hands. “As is tradition, I have a gift for you!”

“Come on,” you begin to lament. “How many times do I need to say this: Sersi, my love, you do not need to get me anything. Your friendship is more than enough.”

“Just take the frog!” Sprite groans.

You flash the redhead a smile as Sersi shyly hands over a beautiful pale jade frog.

“Wow…” you murmur, cradling the fragile object in your hands. “This must be…”

“From the gift shop, yes,” the Eternal smiles tightly.

So it was very very old then.

The handicraft is exquisite, the jade is smooth and polished. Maybe… third century, around the Eastern Han dynasty, if you had to hazard an immediate guess?

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit, looking up at one of your oldest friends.

“Well,” she shrugs, chuckling. “Just say thanks. I managed to convince Kingo not to send a golden statute your way this year.”

“He almost went for an ice sculpture instead,” the redhead hums, eyes trained on one of the Erotes chatting nearby. Oh, not Himeros. Honestly, Sprite - have some decency.

“I’m sorry,” Tony butts in. “Are we referring to the Kingo? As in, the action movie superstar of the Indian subcontinent?”

You shrug, looking over at the billionaire, “What can I say? He was a friend from college.”

Tony balks for all of ten seconds before he snaps his mouth closed, “Well, since we’re doing gift-giving, which by the way, your royal highness - ” he steps closer to you, looking completely un-intimidating in his high-hem chiton.

“ - do you know how difficult it is to buy someone the perfect gift when they fail to mention that it’s their birthday and you have twenty minutes to be in the air?”

“Sorry?” you reply with a sheepish tone.

He clicks his tongue, “Yeah, well, your perfect gift is back at the house. Try to hold your thanks and just promise to show up for team training every now and then,”

Dipping away, toward the overflowing bar, you all watch him go.

Sprite smirks, “I like him.”

“Don’t,” Sersi warns with little to no playfulness as she steers the younger-looking of the two of them away.

“No, yeah, I’m with Stark on this,” Clint perks up from his lounging position on one of the benches. Natasha sits beside him with his feet on her lap. “Are we just supposed to ignore your celebrity friend list or what?”

“I know one celebrity, okay?”

“And this? The plethora of pantheons? I’m pretty sure I saw Nike around here because I recognized her from her statue. That’s how insane this is. Speaking of, where’s the old man? Mr. Thunderbolt himself?”

You scoff, leaning back into Steve for invisible support.

“Clint, I’m from Olympus, this is basically a reunion. One in which, the All-Father will not be attending. Not as long as we’re on Earth.”

He lets out a low whistle as Natasha shoves his feet to the ground.

“Ignore him,” she says with a flicker of humor in her dark eyes. “And hey, happy birthday - ” you’re suddenly wrapped into a rare Widow hug, one that you accept all too eagerly as you wrap your arms around her shoulders. “How old are you, by the way?”

“Nooo, I’m not falling down that rabbit hole. Rogers already wants to start up Grandma Athena jokes. I’m good.”

The supersoldier chuckles, you can feel the heat of his breath on your shoulder.

“I’m just saying, they’re more fun to direct at someone else for a change.”

Natasha has a curious gaze in her eyes as she glances around at the other patrons, “I’m going to find out tonight no matter what. Might be easier to just tell me yourself.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” you tease, turning away to grab Steve by the hand as you disappear into the dance circle in the center of the party.

You don’t intend to stay there, in the middle of the dancers, but you’re almost landlocked by them. Unable to break free from their midst. Offering Steve a shrug and a laugh that can’t even be fully heard above the music, you begin to sway along with the others.

He remains still for just a moment, then a moment more, before he leans down to whisper-shout into your ear.

“You want to dance?”

With a nod, you lean up to reply, “I mean, it’s a party after all. Might as well.”

“I’m not really a dancer,” he laments with a flush of pink on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

You reach up, grabbing hold of the back of his neck to bring him down to your level. Fixing his eyes with a look, you say, “Neither am I.”

His laugh reaches your ears just as the musicians begin to play another number. A loud melody followed by several dancers clapping to the beat. Grabbing hold of both of your hands, Steve spins you around in a dizzying circle before you’re drawn back to him.

With an infectious smile upon your face, you let him lead you in a small space left only to the two of you as the rest of the dancers move and spin around you both.

One of his hands drops down to your waist, while the other dangles over your opposite shoulder as you move in closer - drawn into each other’s orbit like the Earth and the ever-present Moon. Resting a hand on his left shoulder, your fingers tickle the small hairs at the back of his neck as your other hand moves to his waist.

You sway to the beat of the music and ringing laughter and overall drunkenness as the world simmers down to just the two of you, dancing together, moving as one.

Steve looks nearly predatory with his gaze fixed upon your face, his blue eyes a distant memory as the darkness of his pupils takes hold. In his irises, you can see the dancing flames of the lantern lights and the reflection of your own face. Feeling too close, too hot, too much, you pull back.

Tugging on his left hand, you move yourself into a spin - one that Steve finishes with a laugh as you dip away from him before being drawn back in. He seems to take the hint as he leaves your right hands joined together, with his left situated loosely on your hip.

The hand drums batter away as a chorus melody begins. The pace is fast as feet go flying on the ground, hands clapping together in the air.

“Can’t dance, honestly,” Steve snarks as he spins you around once again.

You love the feeling of the sudden rush of summer breeze as it makes the bottom of your dress billow up. Sweat is dripping down your neck from the closeness of the crowd.

With a smile in return, you remark, “Says the man keeping to the beat.”

He shrugs, dipping you nearly backward before dragging you back up to his side, “I mean, I was no dance hall expert.”

“I don’t believe that,” you laugh, as you twist around him, returning on his right side.

“It’s true,” he says with a softened tone. “I would have had to get a girl to dance with me.”

“Oh, Steve,” you pucker, allowing him to pull you in closer than before, your bodies almost touching - the heat between you is electric. “Well, you have one now and she thinks you’re doing a great job.”

“Is that right?” he grins, his hand moving from your hip to your lower back as you’re drawn in flush against him.

Resting a hand on his shoulder, you nod.

“Class act, really.”

You can feel the light graze of his lips on the top of your head, then another press near your temple, and then one to your forehead.

Maybe that Olympian wine was finally affecting him after all.

When you pull back, his face is flushed and his gaze is unbelievably intense. But it’s the sight over his shoulder that has you frozen.

“Oh my god,” you groan, using the human terminology for the first time.

“What?” he questions, still oblivious.

Pushing on his right shoulder, you have him turning just enough to see -

“Oh, wow.”

“You didn’t tell me Sam was here,” you complain.

“He wandered off before I got the chance to,” he chuckles.

“Good thing her husband isn’t here, or we’d be scraping up bits of him for the next month.”

Steve shudders at the imagery.

It wasn’t every day Aphrodite went searching for other companions. Considering she still held a flame for Ares and was married to Hephaestus. But this? This had to be crossing some lines even for a drunken festival.

The man has a hand in her hair - blonde, you note - and their lips haven’t fully disconnected since you first spotted them. She’s got a hand on his chest, as she leans further and further into him.

“Well,” you proclaim. “I’ve officially lost any appetite I might have had. No offense to Sam, of course.”

“I don’t know,” Steve shakes his head. “I think it’s mostly him.”

With a sudden burst of giggles, you grab hold of Steve’s right wrist and proceed to tug him away from the dance circle - far away from the line of sight of an Avenger trying to get it on with your sister.

Pulling your hair back and over your shoulder, you shake your head once again.

“At my party, of all places. Honestly.”

Steve wanders alongside you, careful of the forest floor as you dip away from the main festivities.

“Give a man enough wine…”

Looking over your shoulder at him, you remark, “Seems like you might have had a bit yourself, Rogers.”

With a shrug, his eyes flash up to meet your gaze.

“I had two glasses, that’s hardly anything.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you tease. “Dionysus’ spirits are said to be even stronger than Asgardian liquor. I’d be careful if I was you.”

Resting against the cool bark of a tree, you blow upward at the loose strands of your hair that are sticking to your warm forehead. The early August heat was doing nothing for your sweaty skin and rapidly beating heart.

You’re halfway up the hill and you’re able to look upon the entire party from here. With Sam and your sister out of sight, you manage to spot Tony sitting on top of the bar - loudly proclaiming some outrageous story to a group of Olympians. Natasha, one of the few redheads in the crowd, is spotted a moment later, weaving her way through your relatives with disturbing ease. Clint, is in the middle of the dance floor, jumping up and down to the song.

Pietro has cornered another one of the Muses. He’s leaning against the post of the canopy, speaking into her hair. Wanda is surrounded by some of the Anthousai who all seem to be crafting new floral wreaths together. Thor is actively armwrestling Agon and you knew that was likely to go on all night. The god of competition would not be easily swayed by a possible defeat.

Steve is a few feet away from you, a little lower on the hill, as he too watches on. The paper in your pocket tempts your hands once again.

You had been toying with it back at the tower before Sokovia. Hell, you had been contemplating it since 2014, when SHIELD was falling and you were technically considered dead for almost 48 hours.

A hand taps at your left shoulder and you completely startle.

“Cronus! You ass! You can’t do that!” you shriek as you slap Hermes' shoulder repeatedly.

Steve looks on edge while your brother merely tilts his head back and laughs.

To be fair, the last time the supersoldier had been in the same room with your brother, he hadn’t been an entirely charming force to be held.

“Oh, come on. Too easy,” he beams.

“Those damn sandals,” you grumble - staring down at the winged footwear that allowed him such stealth-like advantages.

“You love them,” he retorts, flashing his ankle as he tilts them for you to see. “I see you’re having fun.” Hermes lifts his gaze, nodding, “Captain Rogers.”

Steve offers a nod in return, his hands situated on his belt.

“I trust that my gift was helpful,” he gestures at the chain of your pendant.

Pulling the locket free from the peplos, you admire the silver jewelry, “I thought it was a gift from the Fates.”

“Deliverer of gifts then. Speaking of - ”

You watch with widened eyes as a golden halo of light appears from the heavens - three packages floating down into his waiting hands.

“Father sends his well wishes, of course.”

Taking the first box from him - a tiny thing, about the size of the palm of your hand - you lift the cover off.

“Oh my gosh,” you murmur as you stare down at the dazzling blue gems.

Hermes snorts, “I’m sure you know the meaning.”

With a nod, you carefully pull the first earring free.

A teardrop lapis lazuli with a golden clutch.

Looking back at him, you remark, “They’re stunning.”

He says nothing as he hands over the second package done up in purple wrapping.

From within, you retrieve an intricately beaded diadem. The peacock colors are entwined with gold latticework. It’s so delicate in your hand, that you barely even want to pull it free. But then you’re looking down at your companion, calling out a simple:

“Steve?”

The supersoldier, with a wary eye, takes a step up, then another. He’s standing directly in front of you as you offer him up the tiara. With a gentle look upon his face, he carefully lifts the diadem, rotating it around, before situating it carefully on the crown of your head.

With a whistle, he steps back.

“Hera always goes overboard with this one,” Hermes comments in Steve’s direction. “Athena’s about the only one she can stand.”

“Not true,” you murmur.

He blinks, “Seriously? We want to walk down that path?”

With a slow shake of your head - no reason to ruin a perfectly nice night - your brother’s smile slips free as he hands over the last package.

It’s a scroll, wrapped in on itself with a simple white ribbon.

“Careful now,” he comments. “That’s an antique.”

With a cautious eye trained upon your brother, you begin to unfurl the paper. The first glance at the contents has you rolling it back up as you snap, “Did you steal this?”

Holding up defensive hands, he grins, “I might be the God of Thieves, dear sister, but this came from a friend of ours. A certain… woman who puts even my speed to shame.”

You gape.

“She didn’t.”

He beams, “I think we both know she did.”

Turning it slightly for Steve to look at, you unfurl the map once again, “This is the Ebstorf Map.”

The paper extends out, further and further to the point that both men have to hold onto a portion of the map.

“It was created in the mid-13th century by a group of nuns living in modern-day Germany. This was said to have been destroyed in 1943, during the bombing of Hanover. This shouldn’t... oh, that clever woman.”

If anyone in your known circle could have gotten this to safety and kept it perfectly preserved, it would have been Makkari.

Steve’s eyes rove across the intricate work, an artist’s soul soaking up a historical artifact. One that probably shouldn’t be held by physical hands, now that you think of it. Carefully folding it back up and rolling it together, you push it over into Steve’s capable hands as you latch yourself around your brother.

“Thank you! And tell her thank you as well. Cronus, I should get her something in return. Wait a minute.”

You vanish from the forest before either man can utter a single word, appearing deep within the basement of the house. Well, it was listed as a basement, it was more like a museum storage facility, in all honesty.

Makkari might have her own collection on the Domo, but yours was equally impressive. Both between your home in Vermont and your temple back on Olympus. It only takes you a moment to find what you’re looking for - the perfect thing for her never-ending collection - before you reappear.

The two men look up, apparently caught in the middle of a conversation. Steve coughs, taking a step away, as you glance over at him. With a shake of your head, you speak to your brother.

“This isn’t much, but my gratitude can not be understated. Her gift was incredible.”

Hermes eyes you as you attempt to hand over the tablet.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Come on,” you groan. “You know it’ll be safe in her hands.”

With a half-hearted sigh, he takes the emerald tablet from your hands. Oh, she would be wild about it, you just knew it.

“I’ll see that it gets to her with signs of thanks.”

“I appreciate it,” you smile.

Steve helps you get everything back to the house. After rounding up the twins and Vision, the two of you escort your household members back inside. The teens, obviously, were all too willing to stay up late into the morning hours, but you cut them off around 2 AM. And you insisted that he return as well.

Considering the fact that he had just returned from a mission and hadn’t received any proper sleep in nearly 72 hours, he didn’t press too hard about staying back with you to enjoy the festivities.

“Trust me, they’ll only be getting drunker and louder as the night wears on. I can only tolerate so much.”

After Wanda and Pietro head up for the night and Vision disappears to the library down the hall where he had been spending most of his time these past two months, you collapse into a kitchen chair.

Steve lowers himself into the adjoining seat, looking out at the spread of gifts from your closest friends and relatives.

As you pull the diadem from your head, you rub at your tired face - your cheeks puffing up in a slightly adorable fashion.

Laid before him sits a pink bottle with a sea shell emblem, a golden hilt, and a silver dagger. In a very ornate clay vase sits a combination of flowers. You had told him their names, but he can’t recall them now. One has white petals and a yellow center and the others are simple six-petaled white flowers.

From an opened bag on the table, you reach in and begin peeling a mandarin orange for yourself. The sweet citrus scent wafts around him in the hot kitchen - the summer breeze from the open window does nothing to cool the room.

Steve gazes down at the two additional pieces of jewelry you were now adorned with. A golden snake-shaped ring on your left index finger and a dark green jade bracelet on your right wrist.

What’s completely confusing him, however, is the glass in the middle of the table.

Clearing his throat, he finally asks, “What’s with the water?”

You arch a brow as you take another bite of your orange, a dribble of juice sits at the corner of your lips. Your eyes travel to the glass before you swallow your bite.

“My uncle, I’m guessing.”

He nods, but you don’t seem interested in elaborating.

“Is it… special?”

“Steve,” you blink. “It’s water.”

And then you dip your pinky into the glass before bringing the soaked digit up to your lips to suck.

“I’m sorry, salt water.”

“Just… salt water?”

With a snort, you drop the peel on the table and lean back in your seat, arms crossed.

“You’re still not versed on my mythos, after all this time?”

He shrugs, mirroring your position.

“I’d rather hear it from you, honestly. No book can tell me your truth.”

A look settles over your face, one that he thinks is reading as pleased, but he’s a little out of sorts since the third goblet of wine.

“Let’s just say,” you ease. “We don’t get on very well. He was likely required to get me something, but he chose to do so in his own way.”

With a shake of your head, you stand up and pour the glass into the sink.

You stare out the window, at the glowing lights dancing in the center of the forest. Even from a distance, you can both likely make out the continued party down the hill.

After a moment, Steve says, “It’s more than what I got you.”

You turn, fixing him with a gentle look, “Your friendship will be the only thing I ever ask from you. Always, Rogers. No… piece of jewelry or $400 jacket - ” you point at the unwrapped box on the counter; Tony’s gift, “ - will ever be required of you. Just… you. You are enough for me.”

He can’t help it. Standing up and pushing away from the chair, Steve circles your left wrist with his hand as he pulls you in - slowly, gently - to a hug. He can feel the contend sigh you let out against his sternum as you bury your face into his chest. His arms circle your back, fingers tangling into the ends of your hair.

You both stand like that for minutes - though it could be hours with how truly at peace he feels - when, at last, you pull back. There’s a sheepish expression greeting him as you run your palms down the length of your sky-blue dress.

“Bucking tradition, I actually have something for you.”

He groans, closing his eyes, “Now I’m seriously feeling guilty over not giving you a present.”

“Come on,” you beg. “Open.”

When he blinks his eyes back open, he glances down at your extended palms. There in the center of the cupped pair, sits a scrap of paper.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he picks it up and examines the faded brown parchment. Turning it over with his fingers, Steve nearly stumbles.

Because he knows this paper.

He can barely hear your words above the thundering of his beating heart.

“I know, just, okay. So, this has been on my mind for a while now. Basically, this is going to be your link to me now. Whether I’m… across the ocean, or in another dimensional plane. Ever since Russia and honestly, now that we’re going on separate missions with the team, I just… basically - ”

Your fingers smooth over the parchment, landing on the owl constellation marked with ink.

“Long ago, there was a constellation in Pallas’ image. My constellation really. If there ever comes a time when you need me and can not reach me the normal way, I want you to push down on this, like - ” your fingers press into what would be the stomach of the bird, “ - and you’ll get Pallas, who will get me.”

As if on command, the owl swoops up to the window sill, pecking at the glass before you move to let him in. He lands on Steve’s shoulder, gnawing at his hair.

But the supersoldier can’t move, can’t even speak as he stares down at that imagery.

“Hey, I know it’s kind of - ”

He just shakes his head.

“I know this. I’ve seen it before… in my compass.”

You tilt your head, a curious pinch to your brows, “What are you talking about?”

Letting out a breath as he lowers his hands, the paper clenched with his right fist, he explains, “That day that we thought Loki might have been… with the scepter? After New York?”

You nod, after a beat, in understanding.

“You’re saying… you saw this, in the compass? The compass that wasn’t yours.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, feeling the weight of something he can’t even process expel from his chest. “I don’t know how. I just… I remember this being in there.”

Your hands encircle his forearms as you stare up at him.

“There are some things in this universe, that even I can’t explain. Maybe… one day it will make sense. But, I think I’d like to believe that you should hold onto this for maybe more reasons than I originally intended.”

Steve gives a sharp nod, a weird catch in his throat as he says, “Yeah.”

“You’re not going to be far, are you?”

Turning back around, a box in your hands, you shake your head. Pietro looks back at you from the open doorway to his room.

“No, I promised you both that we’d be close by while you get adjusted. I’m two down on the right, and Steve’s one past that. You guys are going to be just fine. Hell, even Vision has a place set up at the end of the hall.”

It had been a strange two weeks, moving everything over to the newly minted Compound.

The twins had their own fears over the move. Pietro had come to enjoy the space at the house in Vermont, the freedom he felt he had with just four other occupants. Now, this place felt a little more… official, and scientific. Tony had a whole section set up for research and development outside of his own personal labs. There were people coming and going nearly all day and night.

Though the private apartments were away from those areas, just looking out the windows would allow you see to the endless flow of people.

Luckily, you managed to lock down a separate corridor near the back of the building, on a lower floor too.

Wanda didn’t like windows. Well, she liked having some windows. But floor-to-ceiling ones made her anxious, and jumpy. She didn’t feel fully protected with them. Tony was all too understanding at your request.

That’s how you found yourselves occupying a hall mostly to yourselves.

Clint and Natasha were in the west wing of the building. Thor and Bruce had designated rooms on the north side of the apartments - though neither room was currently occupied.

Dropping the box off at Wanda’s room, you wipe your hands clean.

You knew it was going to take time for them both to feel comfortable and to adjust to their new living arrangements. But they seemed to understand that this was going to be the safest place for them to be for now.

Even though Tony never went into detail, you understood that the situation outside of the Compound was still… tense, to put it lightly.

Steve glances back at you. He’s on a ladder, helping Wanda arrange her mood lights above her bed.

Sometimes, you wonder exactly where you had been heading all those years ago. The anti-team mindset and your avoidance of people in general. Yet, here you are.

Leaning against the open doorframe, you watch as the pair interact together in hushed tones and soft laughs.

No, you could have never imagined this life for yourself. Not only were you going to have a room here, but you made up your mind that you would in fact be living here, on a semi-permanent basis. No more running back to Olympus at every chance.

You were part of a team now. These were your people, your friends, your pseudo-family.

At the vibration in your pocket, you pull your phone free.

Scoffing at the message - grannie, seriously - you call out, “Hey! Tony says he’s got a free hour if you two wanna head down to do a consult on those uniforms he mentioned.”

Wanda whips around, a look of equal trepidation and excitement mixing together on her face.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I recommend going. Otherwise, he might try and put some armor in there in red and gold tones.”

She makes a face, causing you to chuckle as she waves goodbye to Steve. Running off in search of her brother.

“Kids these days,” you comment for the supersoldier to hear as they both zip past you a moment later. “They grow up so fast.”

He just laughs in return as he folds up the ladder and places it along the wall. She still wanted some kind of canopy hung up above her bed, so you imagined he might have his hands full later.

“So, how are we looking?” he asks as you both head down the hallway toward the main living space.

“Well, it’s not the ‘27 Yankees, but I think we have some hitters.”

Steve snorts as you push through the next set of doors, side by side, striding together through the halls.

“They’re good. We’ll make them into a team.”

You share a smirk with the supersoldier as you make it to the newly finished gym, pausing at the doors as you say, “Let’s beat them into shape.”

With two of your biggest allies out of the picture - hopefully, temporarily - you were faced with the joint decision to mold the newest members into a proper fighting force. Ultron may have had doubts about your ability to come together and work as one, the media might still be feeding those very same doubts to the public, but you were dedicated to proving them all wrong.

Steve enters the gym with an assured look gracing his face. With a nod, the two of you get to work.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Author's Note: Oh my god, not Stethena pseudo-adopting the twins, am I right?

Anyway, here's some importantish notes from this particular chapter that might be of interest to a few people.

Translations: - rodičia: parents - otec: father - bastardi: bastards - bodaj ho: damn it

Clothing: - Chiton (image) - Peplos (image)

Gifts: - Lapis Lazuli earrings from Zeus - A peacock beaded diadem from Hera - A map from Hermes - Perfume from Aphrodite - A dagger and golden hilt from Hephaestus - A clay vase from Hestia - Narcissus flowers from Persephone - Asphodel flowers from Hades - Mandarin oranges from Demeter - A gold snake ring from Asclepius - A jade bracelet from Dionysus - A glass of salt water from Poseidon

The Guest List:

Fauns: half-human, half-goat creatures

Euphrosyne: goddess of good cheer, joy, mirth, and merriment

Dryades: tree and forest nymphs

Anthousai: flower nymphs

Pannychis: goddess of all-night festivity

Thalia: goddess of festive celebrations and luxurious banquets

Comus: god of revelry, merrymaking, and festivity; Athena’s nephew through Dionysus

Hebe: cupbearer of the Olympians; Athena’s half-sister through Zeus and Hera

Hedylogos: one of the Erotes, god of sweet talk and flattery

Sarasvati: Hindu goddess of art, knowledge, music, speech, and learning

Eupheme: goddess of words of good omen, acclamation, praise, applause, and shouts of triumph

Dionysus

Hedone: goddess of pleasure, enjoyment, and delight

Anteros: one of the Erotes, god of requited love; Athena’s nephew through Aphrodite and Ares

Pothos: one of the Erotes, god of sexual longing, yearning, and desire

Seshat: Egyptian goddess of wisdom, knowledge, inventory of writing, consort of Thoth

Thoth: Egyptian god of wisdom, knowledge, writing, magic, science, art

Apedemak: African lion-headed god of war

Mixcoatl: Aztec god of battle, hunting, civilization, and stars

Philophrosyne: goddess of friendliness, kindness, and welcome

Aphrodite

Bragi: Norse god of poetry

Sersi

Sprite

Himeros: one of the Erotes, god of sexual desire

Agon: god of contest

Hermes

Other guests in attendance:

Adephagia: goddess of satiety and gluttony

Agele: goddess of radiant good health

Aglaea: one of the Charites, goddess of beauty, adornment, splendor, and joy

Aike: goddess of prowess and courage

Ame-no-Uzume: Japanese goddess of dawn, meditation, and the arts

Angelia: goddess of messages, tidings, and proclamations

Antheia: one of the Charites, goddess of flowers and wreaths

Apollonis: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Arete: goddess of virtue, excellence, goodness, and valor

Aristaeus: god of bee-keeping, cheese-making, and olive-growing; Athena’s nephew through Apollo

Bait Pandi: Filipino (Bagobo) goddess of weaving

Borysthenis: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Caerus: god of opportunity

Calliope: muse of epic poetry

Cathubodua: Celtic goddess of war and battle

Cephisso: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Clio: muse of history

Dikaiosyne: goddess of justice and righteousness; Athena’s half-sister through Zeus

Eirene: goddess of peace; half-sister through Zeus

Ekecheiria: goddess of truce, armistice, and cessation of hostilities

Eleos: goddess of mercy, pity, and compassion

Eleutheria: goddess of liberty

Elpis: goddess of hope and expectation

Eros: one of the Erotes, god of love and sex; Athena’s nephew through Aphrodite and Ares

Erato: muse of lyric poetry

Eucleia: goddess of good repute and glory

Eupraxia: goddess of well-being

Euterpe: muse of musical poetry

Gamayun: Slavic goddess of knowledge and wisdom

Gelos: god of laughter

Harmonia: goddess of harmony and concord; Athena’s niece through Ares and Aphrodite

Heimarmene: goddess of shared fate/destiny

Helios: god of the Sun and guardian of oaths

Hermaphroditus: one of the Erotes, god of unions, androgyny, marriage, and sex; Athena’s nephew through Hermes and Aphrodite

Himeros: one of the Erotes, god of sexual desire

Horme: goddess of impulse or effort, eagerness, starting an action

Iris: goddess of the rainbow and divine messenger

Nike: goddess of victory

Pasithea: one of the Charites, goddess of rest and relaxation

Philotes: goddess of friendship, affection, and sex

Polyhymnia: muse of sacred poetry

Polymatheia: muse of knowledge

Tekhne: goddess of art, craft, and technical skill

Terpsichore: muse of dance and choral poetry

Theros: youth god of summer

Okay, so while I have had so much fun writing the last few chapters in this arc and connecting lots of moments together into this big finale, I'm gonna need a bit of time before I move on to tackle the Civil War arc. I need to perfect the plot just so and make sure I have all of my loose ends wrapped up before we delve into that realm just yet.

So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for those of you who have kept up with the story and have been reblogging and commenting on it. It's honestly keeping my passion for this story going. So, thank you again, and hopefully I'll see you soon with the next installment :)

#steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel fan fic #series: shameless wonder #my fic

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