#i remember reading about fictional characters getting sick from nerves and rolling my eyes

[phereinnike]

sick at home and feeling kinda sad, recommend me something to watch tonight?

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 7

Summary: Ransom makes good on his promise and your parents arrive for dinner. But then, you discover something that brings your entire world shattering down around you once more…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap and violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So here it is, the last chapter to this series! I can’t believe all this spun from @jtargaryen18​‘s Halloween challenge last year, and here we are 6 months later! Of course, I’d love to thank my writing partner from the earlier chapters, but sadly she’s no longer on Tumblr. Without her none of this would have been possible. I love you SG wherever you are. Thank you to everyone who has read and engaged so far and I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing. The Epilogue will follow next week and trust me, you do NOT want to miss that!!

In this, the reader has a sister, however feel free to interpret the Y/S/N element as sibling instead, if that appeals to you.

Word Count: 8.5k (I’m sorry I don’t do short fics, really I am!!)

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ me if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 6

 “Will you relax?” Ransom drawled from where he sat, sprawled back on the sofa in the main lounge of the house, his denim clad legs crossed at the ankles, his black cashmere sweater torso melting against the cushions. “It’s just your parents, what’s the big deal?” You weighed your reply but instead smiled, he couldn't possibly understand. He wouldn't. "Let me just have this moment, please." He looked at you, his eyebrow arched before he scoffed, “whatever, Sweetheart. But if you’re gonna keep pacing up and down, can you do it in the hallway? The wood flooring is a lot more hardwearing.” With a roll of your eyes you left the lounge, wringing your hands together. This was the first time in months you'd be seeing your parents and it wasn't lost on you the charade you'd have to keep up despite wanting to somehow plea for a rescue. It was also worrying how they were going to react. Especially following the call you’d made a week or so ago, just before New Year’s Eve.

When you’d dialled the number you knew off by heart, your mother had answered. And upon hearing your voice she had shrieked and then the line had gone quiet until your father had spoken your name with a trembling voice. You’d been unable to answer straight away, your own voice catching, before a sob had burst from your throat and the tears had poured down your face. You’d managed a few, choked words of apologies until Ransom had pushed himself up from the seat he had been perched in, silently observing. He curled his arm over your shoulder, giving you a squeeze as you composed yourself. Eventually, you’d managed to calm yourself down and thankfully your dad hadn’t asked too many questions but had accepted your invite to dinner.

And now, here you were, nervously awaiting their arrival.

It wasn’t lost on you that, in their eyes, the fact you had cut them off was your decision, not forced on you by the man you were now sharing a bed with. And that was your other worry, you had no idea how he was going to behave. If Ransom showed your family the same contempt he displayed to his own, your dad wasn’t the type of man who would stand for it. And then what? But you had zero time to think on it as the doorbell rang. Your heart leapt to your throat and your stomach turned acidic. Ransom poked his head out of the lounge and looked at you expectantly, like you were to answer. Adjusting your sweater dress for the millionth time, you walked to the front door and reached for the knob with a shaky hand. You steeled your nerves and blinked hard to dissipate the tears, and opened the door. For the first time in months you looked back into the familiar eyes of your parents. Your mom’s face was pinched, as if she was chewing the inside of her cheeks and as you glanced to your dad you already noticed the daggers he was shooting at the man behind you. To anyone else it would be enough to make them quake in their shoes, but not Ransom. “Mom, Dad.” Your voice sounded alien as you spoke quietly, your fingers grabbing at the bottom of your sleeves as one of Ransom’s hands curled over your shoulder. "Y/N," your dad replied, and the awkwardness officially set in.

"Aren't you going to invite them in, Sweetheart?" Ransom's voice made you jump a bit.

"Yes, please, come in," you stepped aside for them to enter. "Welcome to, erm, our home."

Calling it that felt all sorts of wrong, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. Besides, it wasn’t like you could call it what it was, your prison. Your father stepped inside followed by your mother, the foyer now feeling a little crowded. Your mother was quick to pull you in for a hug. But it was brief and not the way she used to hug you, no, this hug felt like it came from a stranger. Your dad’s embrace, however, was everything you remembered. Safety, strength and love and you felt yourself melt into his arms, choking back a sob as you pressed your face into his chest. "We appreciate you coming to dinner," Ransom spoke, breaking the embrace you shared with your father. "It's nice to finally meet you both. I'm Ransom." Your dad looked at you as you nodded, wiping the tears from your eyes as he looked to Ransom. “We know who you are. With the news, the papers and Y/N's article, we've probably become more acquainted than you're aware.” He spoke calmly but cooly, gripping Ransom’s outstretched hand with a less than friendly shake, one that would make a lesser man wince. Instead, you saw what you thought was a flicker of amusement on Ransom's face before your dad released his hand and you introduced your mother. She didn’t offer her hand. Instead she gave a sniff and took a deep breath, getting straight to the point as she always did. “Well, this is all very nice and everything but what the hell do you think you’re playing at, Y/N? You disappeared with no trace, we thought you were dead, and then we find out you're not. Instead you’re, with him, choosing not to contact us or speak to us? Forgive me for the brash and abrupt approach, but before we sit down for dinner, we deserve some answers.” Her voice gathered pace and volume as she continued to rail at you, telling you how worried and sick the entire family had been, how thanksgiving and Christmas without you had been awful and whatever else she had on her mind as she spewed her words at you, her face an eyes blazing with anger. You felt sick, never had you meant for any of this to happen, clearly. And you'd secretly hoped Ransom would have seen the devastation he'd caused by his actions, however you knew that was an ill-fated hope just as well. You struggled to speak, the words jumbling around in your head and your mouth bone dry. "I'm so sorry," Ransom sighed. "Why don't we come into the lounge and have a drink or two and we can talk all about it? I know that Y/N was looking forward to your visit and clearing the air."

He looked at you as he ushered towards the lounge, a hidden smugness to his face that only you could detect. He thought he'd just played the hero, the prince saving his distressed princess. “Good idea,” your dad nodded, his hand gently on the base of your mother’s spine, “come on, Honey.” “Straight down, second on your right.” Ransom informed as your parents headed off a little ahead of you.

“Now, remember, what you tell them has to match what you said to Blanc.” Ransom took your hand in his and spoke quietly as you both began to follow your parents. “I. Know.” You grit though your teeth and jerked your hand free of his. He stopped dead and turned to face you, and for the first time ever you saw something akin to fear on his face, you were resisting that much anger. “Y/N...” he started but you shook your head. “You have no idea how much you’ve hurt them or me do you? That or you simply still don’t care.” You hissed before you took a deep breath and drew yourself up tall. “But, we’ll just go in there, spin a load of more lies and that’s it, all done isn’t it?” He blinked before his jaw set and he shook his head. “I’m warning you...” “What else is new?” You sighed. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything and I’ll still be here when they leave.” You stepped a pace or two in front of him and entered the lounge. Your parents were sitting on the couch you'd become very familiar with while Ransom moved straight for the drink cart. "Mr. Y/L/N, can I interest you in a top shelf scotch?" "Mom," you said softly as the conversation between your dad and Ransom faded out, "Ransom and I have a great white wine if you'd like or..." "Scotch is fine," she interrupted you, a stone cold look to her disappointed face. Ransom served the drinks, handing you your preferred wine with a kiss to your head. You watched how your parents interacted with him, the way your father watched every calculated step, the way your mother shot daggers in the two of you as you sat opposite them on the love seat. You leaned forward so as to move a bit away from Ransom, however, he was quick to put his arm over the back of the love seat, his hand able to still touch you. “So, erm, how’s....” “Your sister? Nanna? Granddad? Who would you like to start with?” Your mom took a sip of her drink and you dropped your eyes, your gaze focussed on your hands as they rubbed together. 

"I'm sorry, okay?” You stuttered, shaking your head. “I know you’re angry and upset and you have every right to be but... I didn’t do any of this on purpose.” “That detective man, Blanc, and the police... they said you didn’t want us to know where you were...” “I didn’t.” You choked on the lie a little. “My head was a mess and...” you sniffed as you felt Ransom’s fingers graze the skin on the back of your neck as you looked at your mom. “Mom, please, please don't make tonight continue with vicious jabs and vile glares. I'm sorry, to you, to everyone. I was...." you stopped and centred yourself. "I was lost and I didn't know what to do." "Why don't we just get this out of the way then maybe we can move on with our evening?" Ransom suggested and your father nodded in shocking agreement. "Let's let her explain, Dear. She said she made a mistake and there were good reasons she couldn't come to us, I'm sure. Let's just hear her out." Your father was always the more sensible one. You mother took a shaky breath and looked at you and you swallowed before you started to talk, the lie you had rehearsed in your head slipping from your lips. “I erm, I was having a bit of trouble at work and everything just got too much and... well, I don’t know what happened, a breakdown or whatever,” you took a deep breath, “I just needed to get away, from everything.” “Including us?” Your mom asked and you shook your head. “I wasn’t thinking straight, I just...” "You know, it doesn’t matter what you say to explain because frankly, I won't understand but I do hope that you never have to experience what we went through. Ever." She deadpanned. "I do believe that is my fault, Mrs. Y/L/N. I encouraged her approach and didn't discourage the fact that she wasn't contacting you or anyone she was close with." Ransom sighed, feigning concern for your parents.

You knew what he was doing, the Master Manipulator was coming out in him and you knew there was no going back, no. It was as if Ransom said 'challenge accepted' in winning your parents over. Just, so you assumed, the night would end and you'd be happy in his arms and they'd never think twice about your brief disappearance again. “We hadn’t been seeing each other that long, and my reputation isn’t the greatest. But I should have put my own concerns aside and seen that the way we were going about things was wrong and I should have insisted she reached out. You see, me and my family aren’t close and I sometimes forget that we’re the ones that aren’t normal.” "We hadn't known she was seeing anyone," your mum stated. She was out with her claws, not going to let Ransom nor you off so easily.

"Well, I'm not like Y/S/N, Mom. I don't just bring home whomever I'm taking to bed that month." You'd said it before you could stop it. Never had you said something like that before about your sister, nor spoken to your mother like that. And you didn't miss the twitch of a smirk to the corner of Ransom's lips, telling you he was a bit proud. Surely, you didn't want him to be rubbing off on you in that way. "I'm sorry, that wasn't how I meant it. I just knew I had to be more careful in sharing everything. Like he said, he's not got the best rap, but, after my interview on him, well I guess I just found him intriguing and-“ “Ah, yes," your father now spoke up, cutting you off, “the smear and redact. Believe me, Ransom, we're very familiar with your reputation and our daughter's initial thoughts on you. Which is why you can see how we were a little surprised, once the initial shock of her supposed death wore off, that the two of you were... together." “I understand.” Ransom nodded. “And I would feel the same in your shoes. But, well, I guess after the interview things just kind of spiralled from there. I don’t really know how it happened myself, to be honest, I’m just glad it did.” As if he was sealing the deal, he leaned toward you and pressed his lips to your temple. You sighed and gave him a smile. This bastard was smug enough to start shifting the tone in the room with a metaphorical snap of his fucking fingers and you watched it work on your parents. The ice slowly melting away, the glacial peak softening around your mother. And then the metaphorical snap became a real one as he moved his arm from round you, clicked the fingers of both hands and then slapped his left palm with the underside of his right fist with a flourish as he flashed a smile round the room. “Okay, so....who’s hungry?”

Your parents both raised their eyebrows and as your mom looked at your dad, you saw him shake his head ever so slightly and she took a deep breath, before she turned back to Ransom and you, a small smile on her face. “Dinner sounds great.” "Sweetheart, after you," Ransom politely shifted to the side so you could rise and lead the way. He turned back to your parents, "we wanted to make sure we were able to spend as much time together without the chore of preparing and cleaning up after so we had dinner brought in. Y/N had it all set just before you arrived." You shot him a glare as you moved by him, your mother and father behind you, Ransom pulling up the rear. Sure enough, still warm and catered were four place settings at the table in the large dining room across and down a bit from the lounge. Your parents sat down across the table from where you and Ransom stood, silver dome lids obscuring your eyeline as you sat. Oddly, you'd never eaten in the dining room before. It was your room in the basement, the kitchen table or the coffee table in the lounge. Red wine and cutlery were already set along with water. Your parents and Ransom set their scotch glasses near the wine. Your dad arched an eyebrow at the ostentatious nature of it all and you caught his gaze as he gave you a kneeling smirk. With a laugh, you realized that someone should at least remove the lids, and since you were the host, you rose from your chair and bent over the table a little, reaching for the knobs of their domes. You stacked them together and sat back down, pulling yours and Ransom's as you went.

As you settled down to eat, your parents both complimented the food before a little silence fell as you all ate, the occasional clanking of cutlery against the porcelain plates ringing out across the large room. Ransom made a few comments here and there about the food from the company you’d ordered from being good, as usual, your parents agreeing before a light conversation struck up about the holidays and various other mundane topics, all as if you were close and the conversation prior hadn't happened. Like it was a regular Sunday family dinner. All the time, you spotted your parents growing more and more comfortable with the situation, and you felt yourself relax a little, hoping and praying that things would keep amicable.

And then, after another spell of silence you heard your mother clear her throat. "So, Ransom, what is you do? I never gathered that from…well, from…” she trailed off and Ransom took a dep breath. “To be honest with you, Mrs. Y/L/N, not a great deal until recently. Just another way Y/N managed to help me change my life around." He looked at you with appreciation. "She made me see that living my life riding off people’s coat tails wasn’t really anything to be proud of.” He paused to take a sip of his scotch before he cut another piece of his steak. “Now I’m writing. I have a couple of things on the go and a few from my grandfather that he never finished so, hopefully, they’ll take off.” This bastard! You could not believe the bullshit that so easily sprang from his mouth. It was fascinating and yet absolutely disgusting at once. You found yourself convinced, and not for the first time, that he actually believed the shit he talked. "What's your book about, if you don’t mind me asking?" You father queried, after swallowing down his steak with his wine, saving his scotch for after. “Not at all,” Ransom swallowed his food. “Another area I’ve taken inspiration from, it’s based on a private detective.” He gave a chuckle. “I’ll be handing out a lot of royalties and dedications at this rate.” "Just a private detective?" You pressed, having wondered yourself as he'd told you once before you were an inspiration. He looked at you, smirking a little. “I’ve told you, Princess, I’ll let you read it when the first draft is done.”

Your father eyed you as Ransom spoke of pet names and inspirations. Your eyes flitted away from his gaze, entertaining Ransom's portion of the conversation but you found them quickly fluttering back to those kind eyes that matched yours. At that point, your dad shot you a sweet father-like wink before clearing his throat and speaking.  "So, let's not beat around the obvious, this is awkward." He paused to emphasize his point. "I'll just come right out with it. What could your future intentions be with my daughter?"

"Jesus Christ, Dad!" You surely hadn't seen that coming.  Ransom blinked a little before he cleared his throat. “I’ll keep her as long as I can, Sir.”

At that, his hand curled over your knee, giving a gentle squeeze and you took a deep breath, drawing your back up straight as his hand gently started to trail further up towards your thigh, fingers still hot on your skin through the layer of your thick tights. You cleared your throat, and moved a little, and Ransom removed his hand, a smirk blatantly evident on his face.

“Good to know.” Your dad reached for his wine again, a teasing smile on his face. “I mean the lease has gone on her apartment now and we turned her room into a gym the moment she moved out.”

“Oh purlease!” Your mom scoffed, “a gym. By that he means he has a rowing machine and a bunch of weights that serve as nothing more than expensive door stops.”

At that Ransom gave a full belly laugh, his head tipping back with just the right amount of humour. Not too much to appear fake, but enough to seem like the exchange had genuinely amused him. He almost had you fooled too.

Bastard.

The rest of the dinner past with fairly amicable chat, the ice well and truly broken. Ransom and your father struck up a pleasant conversation about football and then baseball, Ransom confessing that he hadn’t been following either sport much recently but also nodding when your dad suggested that perhaps they could catch a game sometime soon, in a bar. At that you had smirked into your glass, as you knew the thought of going to a place surrounded by a load of loud, drunken members of the public would be Ransom’s idea of hell. The idea that he might just have to follow through on your promise amused you, a lot.

Eventually, your parents both announced that they should be going, and the warmth and happiness that had descended on you began to slowly seep away as you hugged them both good bye. As they headed down to their car, you stifled down a sob as you waved them away, realising you had no idea when you’d be seeing them again. That was on Ransom, for him to decide when and if you deserved it.

But, you’d played his game. You’d behaved. He said he wanted you to trust him, to be content with him. Surely, he would realise that this was the happiest you’d been since he snatched you, and if you continued to behave then he would have no reason to keep you from seeing them for so long again.

With a sigh you turn away from the door and step back inside, Ransom just behind you. You stopped and waited for him to close the door and lock it. He gave you a little twitch of a smile. 

“Well, that wasn’t as painful as I expected.”

You rolled your eyes.

"You were great, Sweetheart."

"Yeah, well, you won them over. I doubt they suspected anything by the time they left." Your words didn't cut him, they cut you. You cleared your throat and shook your head, "anyway, I'm going to go clean up. I'll meet you upstairs."

"What, no 'thank you'?" He piqued.

You turned back to him, "Thank you, Ransom. For allowing my parents to come over."

“That wouldn’t be sarcasm, now would it?” He arched a brow, his arms folding across his chest.

"Oh, no, not at all," you overly pouted, stepping up to him, running your hands over his chest to seal your own sarcastic ploy.

His hands were quick to grab your wrists and oddly there was an air of excitement to your eyes.

“What on earth is there to possibly be sarcastic about?” You continued and he scoffed.

“It’s a good thing I kinda like your sass.”

You simply quirk your eyebrows and give a small shrug before attempting to turn away. However, Ransom still had a hold of your wrists and he kept you rooted near by.

“Ransom, what...”

“Leave the dishes, the maid comes tomorrow. I pay her enough, she can deal with it.”

You scoffed, “you’re such an asshole.”

"Come to bed with me," he asked more than suggested.

Since your little tryst in his precious car a week ago, he'd been far more touchy-feely, needy even. And in your eyes, Ransom Drysdale didn't do needy. However, this neediness served a purpose. You were able to keep him soft in all but one place, manipulating his needs for your own.

“You want me to come to bed with you?” You playfully quipped, cocking your head to one side.

“You want me to beg or something, Y/N?” His voice lowered as he narrowed his eyes. “Because I can make it a demand not a request.”

“Not beg, no.” You ignored his threat. “But a please wouldn’t go amiss.”

His controlling hands moved your arms around his neck before they fell away to your waist. His forehead bent into yours and his nose brushed against the tip of your own. "Please, come to bed with me, baby," he whispered against you.

You were smirking inside as his lips met yours in a deep kiss, his tongue gently flicking through your lips and sliding against yours. 

“Since you asked so nicely.”

It was a quick swoop, one that completely caught you off guard as he pulled you off your feet, his arm around your back while the other was hooked under your legs. His lips were on yours as he carried you to the staircase, not ever missing a beat or step, his tongue gliding over yours as he walked.

You didn't know how the two of you had made it up to your bedroom, and without incident but, the next thing you knew, you were led flat over your bed, his body caging you in.

“You said I did well.” You looked at him and he blinked, his brow furrowing a little. “How well?”

Silently as you waited, hoping he would take the bait.

And he did.

“Very well.” his eyes searched yours and you bit your lip.

“Well enough for me to see them again?”

"If you want, maybe lunch with your mother," he answered, kissing over your jaw and down your neck between each phrase.

You stilled, shock hitting your system and just how easily he had offered that up, you hadn’t even had to try. Noticing your change in body language Ransom paused and looked at you. “What? Don’t you want to?”

“No, I mean yes, of course I do. I just wasn’t expecting you to say that. I mean...” you stopped yourself short of saying what you had been about to, that you were his damned prisoner and until a week or so ago hadn’t left the grounds at all in months. You swallowed as Ransom sighed.

"Trust, remember, baby," he leaned back on his knees between your legs. "Call her in a couple of days, set up lunch."

“And you trust me to do that?” You swallowed. “No stupid tricks or mind games?”

"I won't be far behind." There it was, the stipulation. That silent warning heeding a tone left unsaid. “That said, I’m kinda hoping we’re past the point of me having to remind you about certain things to make you come back.”

"I understand."

Ransom shook his head, licking his lips. “No, I don’t think you do.” 

There was a tone of sadness almost to his voice and you watched him, his eyes locked onto yours and then you understood.

This went right back to the core of all this. He wanted you to want to come back. Not to simply do it because you have to. It was the ever present chink in his armour, the one thing you’d been able to exploit.

And, if you were being totally honest, could more than likely learn to live with the situation if you could have some kind of grasp and control, because that’s what this was about. That ever present power struggle and desperation he has within him to be more than people simply assumed him to be.

In a twisted way, you were almost proud to see the difference in his behaviour over the last few months was insurmountable. Whether that was directly down to you or not, you couldn’t be sure, but something had made him tap into that part of himself that could show reasonableness, rationality and, dare you suggest it, compassion.

Whilst you knew you’d never forget how he had taken you, against your will, or the pain and violence he had inflicted upon your body, maybe, in time, you could forgive. 

Because he simply hadn’t known any better.

"I'm not going anywhere," you spoke softly, sitting up to caress his cheek. His evening stubble scratched at your palm.

His eyes squinted shut, holding back an emotional response to her promise. There was so much he wanted to say but he couldn't. He physically could not bring the words out from his throat. So he did what he had always done, or thought he could, and that was to show her. Show her what he wanted to say. His lips pressed into the palm of her hand and as her fingers rubbed along his ear and behind his head, his lips travelled the length of the soft skin of her forearm until he pressed a delicate kiss to the crook of her elbow.

Turning his head, he caught her lips in a soft kiss which grew deeper as he pressed his body into hers, grinding his hardness against her groin. He felt the exhale from her nose against his cheek as his tongue muted the groan from her throat. His free hand skated up her thigh, to the hem of her sweater dress, bunching it in his fist. At that point, her hand gently wrapped around his wrist and he stopped, pulling away to look at her, his brow creased in puzzlement.

“Let me.” She whispered.

He swallowed hard and gave a short nod. She sat up and he leant back as she did, her hand against his chest, guiding him how she wanted him. As her hands fiddled with his flies, his eyes never left hers. When she tugged on the waistband of his jeans, he raised his hips slightly to allow her to pull them down, taking his boxers with them and he gave a slight sigh at the relief his rock hard dick was now free from it’s constraints.

“Feel good?” She smirked at the sound he made.

He nodded, “yes”, his voice gruff and gravelly.

No sooner had she said it, she’d taken him in her mouth. Instinctively, he bucked upwards, his hands settling in her hair, head falling back against the pillow as he hissed.

When his hips rutted upwards a second time, she moved back, releasing him with a pop and he glanced down at her, his face full of frustration but she simply smirked at him.

“Stop moving." 

The control of the situation wasn't his, it was hers and he was fully aware of it as she changed her pace, quick-quick-slow and if he squirmed she stopped.

A roll of his balls between her hand made him shudder. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned, “fuck, Y/N!”

She responded by taking him to the back of her throat, and the noise that came from his was halfway between a growl and a whimper as it stumbled from his mouth.

On and on this went, and every time she brought him to the edge and he couldn’t control his movements she stopped. It was a delicious torture, but one he was fast reaching his limit with.

“Fuck, baby, I…” his hands raked through her hair as she bobbed up and down on his shaft, her tongue pressing against the thick vein on the underside of his cock. He moaned loudly, “I gotta…”

"No," she purred, kitten licking the slit in his head, the precum dripping onto her tongue. Her lips enclosed over him again, short bobs until she was making long strides at deep throating him. 

She squealed as his hands tightened around her hair, squeezing at the strands to pull her back but she kept her pace, his hips giving way to a violent thrust to the back of her throat as he came hard, his spend shooting deep, coating her inside. His chest heaved as he came down from his high, not letting up on his grip until he was done trembling in euphoria. 

Then in a beat he flipped her to her back and hand his hands over the waistband of her tights, "that wasn't smart, Sweetheart," he growled. 

His eyes flashed in challenge as she giggled and whispered, "I thought it was." 

The force of him tearing her tights as he pulled them away from her legs bothered neither of them, her thin panties soaked and leaving a wet trail down her leg as he removed them, had him salivating. 

"You think it's funny? I'm gonna see how you like it," he challenged. 

Ransom wasted no time in taking a fast swipe at her leaking cunt with his tongue and Y/N cried out as he flicked the tip of his tongue over her swollen and throbbing clit. Her hands went straight to his hair, her knees practically boxing his ears as she curled her body towards his ample assault. 

His long arm slid up her body, over her tummy between her beasts as his splayed his fingers open across her skin, trying to press her back into the mattress. As she complied, she gave a gripping tug to his longer locks and Ransom emitted an elicit growl against her pussy. 

"Jesus Christ," she cried out, the sound sweet in his ears. 

"You taste so fucking good, baby," he spoke against just above her mounded flesh, whilst his fingers sought a wet refuge. He wasted no time in sliding two in, middle and ring fingers, slipping in a first, then second knuckle deep then scissoring inside her until they were all the way in. 

His lips curled around her clit as hers had done to his head, humming over the bud of pleasure, a pressure she nearly exploded over. 

"Oh, no, you don't get to do that yet," he stated firmly. The command made her twitch under him, her breath audibly hitching in her chest. "You're gonna cum on my cock as I fill that pussy up."

"Fuck, Ransom, please," she begged. 

"It's not funny now is it?" He slipped away from her body, sitting back on his heels and removed his own sweater. "Get naked, Princess."

He watched as she struggled to strip of the heavy sweater dress she wore, a stark difference to the fearful prize he had to himself months ago. Now she was his and he loved every single moment of it. From her sassy, smart mouth to the way she took his dick on demand. Ransom slipped his pants away, the two of them both naked and awaiting what was next. He wanted to flip her onto her tummy, rail her from behind while she took it on her hands and knees, keening at him as he thrust into her. 

But instead, he spread her legs wide and slotted his thick cock between her legs, her ankles locking around his narrow hips as he thrust in and gave a naughty twist of his hips. Slow, deep, nasty ruts into her core bounced her tits just a little and he found the wanton cries of her need to be enticing enough to lap at her nipples and breasts, licking and nipping at her skin. Grinding into her as he licked and kissed his way up her neck to that spot that made her cave in at the base of her jaw, jointed just below her ear. 

Her hands wound their way into his hair again and she gripped the strands, giving a pull back, restraining his neck a bit before she let up, allowing his head to drop a pinch. 

Chills covered his sweat sheened skin as she whispered, "harder" into his ear. His body quivered and his stomach fluttered. 

"Fuck, yes." He pulled out and flipped her to her tummy, like he'd wanted to do before. "On your knees, baby. Let me see that pussy."

She positioned like he demanded, a little sway of her hips telling him she was ready. A swift spank to her rounded ass and she cried out as he slammed home. 

"Oh, baby," she mewled as he filled her from behind, bruising fingertips pressing into her hips. 

Her lips praising him, using his nickname for her on him ignited a fire in his belly, his hips snapping harshly against her, his balls slapping against her clit. But it wasn't his pace and the pressure building in his body that was causing him to bury deep inside her, his head rubbing that g-spot that was making her moan filthy words. No, it was the look she gave as she turned her head to just peer over her should the same minute he was throbbing to cum inside her. 

"I'm...fuck, fucking cum, baby girl," he whimpered, desperately holding back so she could cream over his cock. 

And cum she did, her pulsating walls gripping him in a tight squeeze as she pulled him in with a force, literally crying out his name as she came. Her body practically convulsing in pleasure as he filled her up with his seed. The two of them collapsing against the expensive sheets, his body led over hers, still sheathed inside her as they both sagged and panted. 

As if high on the throws of their ecstasy, Ransom kissed along her back with heavy lips and hooded eyes. He could taste the saltiness of her skin, the dampness of sweet sweat a leaving a wet coating over his lips. And when he could feel the blood return to his extremities, he ever so gently pulled out of her, his body sore and tired. She whined at the feeling of his weight escaping her body, but he was quick to fill that void, replacing it with the heat of his frame as he pulled her close, allowing her head to rest against his bare and sculpted chest. He pressed his lips onto the crown of her head. 

"Sleep, baby," he whispered. "Just relax and sleep."

***** For weeks things were good, maybe even really good. Ransom was giving you more freedom, not yet unattended, but you weren't locked away. He'd made do on his promise. 

You had a great lunch with your mother, at the Country Club, in which he'd set up. He'd driven you there, waited in the bar but could easily keep an eye on you. Whilst he might have had ulterior motives that were slightly more sinister than merely being there to keep an eye on you in case you had a panic attack (the excuse you gave to your mother), all in all you didn’t mind. You, too, didn't doubt he paid the waiter a hefty tip to stay nearby as he'd checked on your table more often than most or necessary, again, you didn't mind. 

But despite his hovering, a point you'd made when you'd returned, he promised he trusted you so to save the pains of an argument, you let it go. You'd kept your own promise, never to drop a hint to your mother or anyone else that you weren't less than a free woman.

As the days neared Valentine's Day, Ransom seemed to be more touchy than usual and more than once you'd caught him softly staring at you. His eyes conveying more emotion than they did. Not unlike the first few nights when things had drastically changed between you in November. And when the day arrived, you both exchanged gifts after an early morning wakeup call that you most certainly did not mind. Ransom seemed genuinely pleased with the new silk scarf you’d ordered, having thought it would be a nice replacement for the one he had left at the mansion and point blank refused to return to collect.

For your gift, he handed you a small white envelope. Giving him a puzzled look, you opened it and pulled out a small card.

‘In our favourite room you'll find, your gift my beautiful Valentine.’

Instantly you felt an uncomfortable cold feeling in the pit of your stomach and you swallowed a little. It was a clue, exactly like the ones he had set for you all that time ago on Halloween the previous year. But, as you blinked and looked at him, you saw the expectation on his face and had to remind yourself that this was different.

This was not the same man.

"Is it at least wrapped in a bow, so I know it's mine?" You asked and he smirked a little, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.

 "Trust me, you'll know when you see it."

With a final look at him, you climbed out of bed and pulled on your silk slip before you headed down the stairs. As soon as you’d read the clue, you knew he meant the study. But, when you opened the door, you started to wonder if you’d made a mistake as there was nothing there jumping out at you, at all.

You started rummaging through the stack of things on the desk, looking for anything that resembled a gift. In your haste, you accidentally knocked small stack of notebooks over the edge of the desk. You rushed to get them and straighten them up, hoping not to mess up the order of things he'd had piled together. The moment the leather-bound journal like book touched your fingers, a jolt of curiosity ran through you. 

You opened the cover and ran your fingertips over the dried ink that sat engraved on the pages, a bold and all capitalized print to the handwriting. Not a surprise from a man who's harsh overture played constantly on the surface. Your eyes scanned and scanned the scroll, a frown creased your brow as you registered the meaning of all his notes.

These weren't just any sort of notes, these were his footnotes for his book. And that now disorganized stack of papers that moments ago littered the floor, you looked at them again and realized there among the typed and printed pieces of paper, was his manuscript. 

Hesitating, you picked it up. The front page was plain bar the words. ‘Murder, He Wrote’ and you scoffed at the fact that was the title of the article that had gotten you into this situation in the first place. Mind you, he had said you were a muse of sorts so maybe that was his way of tribute.

You flipped through, skimming the pages, finding yourself strangely proud if you will, that he’d actually finished it, well what appeared to be the first draft anyway. It was indeed about a private detective, by the name of Arnie Bronze, who was hot on the tale of a missing woman called Lucy Roberts who had vanished in mysterious circumstances.

You skipped on a few pages, the narrative shifted to that of focussing on the so called killer, a man named Riley, and you realised that Lucy wasn’t dead as anticipated, she was being held captive. 

In Riley’s basement.

You felt your stomach clench as you focussed in on a small snippet of dialogue, one that was extremely familiar.

 ‘I like this,’ Riley toyed with the straps to the bra Lucy was wearing, his middle finger tracing the outline of the strap against her skin before his lips followed the same path.

‘You should, you chose it,’ her voice was quiet, but still there it was, that unmistakable undercurrent of disdain she carried for him visibly present, as always.

Riley merely chuckled, ‘like I chose you, huh.’ At that, she blinked and looked at him, and he flashed her a smile. Oh, if only she understood exactly why…

What. The. Fuck?

Was he writing about you? Or had he already written this and was merely acting out his sick fucking fantasy. The answer to that became apparent when you tossed the manuscript down and reached for his book of notes.

It was littered with note after note, graphic accounts of the things he’d done to you, along with little questions and observations, how he could turn that into passages for his book. Your breath began to quicken and you turned the pages faster and faster, not needing to read his notes in the slightest as you could remember every sordid little detail for yourself.

Eventually you found the last page. This one contained two simple lines, the first from the night of Harlan’s memorial when he’d arrived home completely soaked.

Memorial was a shit show, as anything is when the fucking Thrombey’s are involved. Y/N made hot chocolate. Held a conversation I actually enjoyed.

This contained no side note as to how this could be used within his book, almost as if it was simply a journal entry, but you didn’t really have time to dwell on that, as your eyes flicked to the line underneath which carried no date.

Original plan changed, no longer going to get rid of when purpose served. Storyline of book will diverge at this point.

'When purpose served'. Well, it didn’t take a genius to work that out.

You threw the book down onto the desk, the room swimming around you as both your hands covered your mouth in shock and horror. You were sick to your stomach, the bile acid in your stomach turning acrid, and you wanted to wretch. 

He’d meant to kill you.

“So, do you like my gift?”

The voice made you scream and you jumped, turning to face the doorway where Ransom was stood, his sweats hung low on his hips, arms folded over his bare chest as he leaned against the frame.

“What?” you blinked, swallowing, the word nothing more than a trembling whisper. “You mean you wanted me to find this?”

“You asked me about being my muse.” He shrugged. “As you can see, you were much more than that. Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetheart.”

You couldn't hold back the gag in your throat and you quickly turned into the waste bin by the desk, spewing your empty stomach into it. The bile burned your throat as it came up. With a shaky back of your hand, you wiped away the remnants of your episode and leaned forward on the desk, your free hand palm flat against the mahogany.

You were disgusted, that much was painfully true, but you were now terribly afraid for your life. A feeling that hadn't come over you in four months. You felt just as you had that very night, terrified, alone, and fighting a sense of chill that crept through your body and deep into your bones. Your eyes, big and brimming with tears looked up at him and your mind went numb in processing the situation. No quicker than you had just vomited, you felt a pang of hurt, your heart ripping from your chest as everything settled within you. You had accepted this, this fate that had been laid out for you. You were accepting him and the life you were being forced to live. You accepted the beast that had begun to care. But he was merely a wolf in sheep's clothing, the true monster you'd always known to lie in wait just under the surface. 

Your brows creased and your heart raced. You felt the bubbling of a scream start deep in your churning belly, your own monster vying to climb its up your chest and out of your throat. You were angrily screaming on the inside long before your voice sounded to the outside, piercing the room in a shattering, blood-curdling banshee cry of anger. 

“This…” you picked up the notebook in your right hand, throwing it at him violently, “this is the reason you took me?”

“Yes.” He didn't even dodge the thickly bound object as it hit him square in the chest before falling to the ground. 

“You...fucking asshole.” You spat, angrily swiping your arm across the desk. The neatly stacked piles of papers scattered like leaves falling from a tree as they fluttered to the floor. “And to think, I actually started to believe myself that there was more to you than everyone said, that underneath all of that bravado and narcissistic, downright nasty bastard exterior there was something or someone that maybe, just maybe was worthy of caring for! ” Your voice was loud, echoing off the wall of his study as you screamed at him. “But you kidnapped and raped and hurt me in ways I never thought possible for what? So you could write a goddamned book?”

Hot tears coursed down your face as you trembled, staring back at the utter monster who stood before you, his face stony as you wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand. “And then you planned to kill me once I no longer served a purpose? Well, tell me, how long have I got?”

“It’s not like that anymore.” Ransom took a deep breath as he stepped forward. He was calm, too calm and instantly you took a step back. “That was my initial plan, yeah, but what I wasn’t banking on was how being around you would make me feel.” He swallowed as he licked his lips. “I couldn’t get rid of you like I originally planned once you served your purpose. Because I love you.” Your mouth dropped open at his confession, utter horror coursing through your veins as you realised what he was saying. The chances of you getting out of this were depleting by the second. He really was completely fucked in the head. “No, no you don’t!” You shook your head, “this...is not love, Ransom, this is obsession, it’s...” He cut you off as he surged forward, his lips pressing to yours. You placed your hands on his chest, shoving hard as you turned your face away, screaming loudly at him to leave you alone. In an easy movement he spun you round, his arms clamping around yours pulling them behind you as he held you in place, your back pressed to his chest as he pressed his lips to your neck. “I know deep down you love me too...” his breath was hot on your neck, voice still eerily calm as his hips pushed forward and you could feel his erection digging into the curve of your spine. “Fuck, this is what you’ve done to me, feel that, Sweetheart? You wrecked me, and now I need you. It’s that simple.” At that he pushed you forward, harshly bending you over his desk, one large hand securing both of yours being your back, your body twisted in a warped recreation of that time he’d used your sweater to restrain you all those months ago. You struggled but he simply twisted your arm further, causing you to cry out in pain and desperation as his other hand roughly hoisted up your night-dress. “You’ll say it eventually.” He stated calmly as you heard that tell-tale rustle of fabric as he pushed down his sweats. “It might take another spell in the basement to make you realise, but you’ll come round.” “It doesn’t work like that.” You sobbed, your voice cracking as his hand let go of your arms and slid up to your neck, reaching round your throat. His fingers curled round your neck as he pulled your head back, his mouth nipping at your neck before he pulled back, his face inches from yours as his icy blues stared locked onto your eyes. They were cold, dangerous and you shook your head, tears pouring down your face.  Your lip trembled as you closer your eyes, taking a deep breath before you opened them again, resigning yourself to the fact that this next line might just seal your fate and wind up with you losing your life. But right now, that would be a blessed way out.  “I can’t love you simply because that’s what you want.” “Oh Sweetheart,” he chuckled, his lips ghosting over yours, “I know that. I know I can’t force you to feel something you don’t, but the only person you’re fooling is yourself. I just want you to admit it.”

“I won’t.” You stuttered, “never, Ransom.”

“Oh, Y/N. Haven’t you learned by now? I always get what I want, including this, you’ll see.” With a harsh thrust forward he pushed inside you, making you scream at the burn thanks to the fact you weren’t ready for him, at all. He gave a groan as he grabbed at your hips, your pelvis jolting painfully into the edge of the hard wooden desk you were bent over. “As my granddad used to quote,” he pulled back before delivering another deep thrust harshly into you, his fingers digging into your flesh as you closed your eyes, scrunching them shut as your cheek rest against the desk, tears leaking from your eyes, “we all become stories in the end.” 

He gave another deep rut forward as he ground into you, his breathing deep.

“Now it’s time to rewrite ours, Princess.”

*****

Epilogue

[sunshineandbnha]

Unexpected - Denki x reader (Valentine’s Day)

Word count: 3,978

Warnings: none, aside from a case of “Did not edit, just finished this this morning”

A/n: HOW DID THIS END UP SO LONG?? I swear, I started it with the idea and intention that it would be 1.4k or 1.9k words. How did I accidentally write two thousand more words? Anyway, I hope this is a good valentine fic for Denki boy. I thought of it due to a prompt on tumblr. If I can later remember who it was who made it, I will edit this and have a link to that post.

Edit: Found it. The prompt was made by @love-me-a-good-prompt

~

When was it you started to look at him differently?

"Hey!"

You looked over your shoulder to find Kaminari making his way past several students in the cafeteria to get to you. You turned your body to face him. Though, you felt awkward about still holding your lunchtray, as if it was a barrier between you and him.

"Do you got a date for tomorrow?" he asked with a grin.

Your heart gave a weep at the reminder of Valentine's day. As if the hearts and commercials all over the place weren't enough. "What do you think?"

"Just checking." He dashed to get his lunch tray he had set down, and sped walked to your side as you picked a table to sit at.

Kaminari had been your friend for several months. One day you had simply overheard him talking about a manga, the same one you had read, and you jumped into the conversation. After that, the both of you became easy friends, and frequently had lunch at the same table.

"Why would you even ask?” You slid into a seat at the table. “You know there's no one I'm really interested in."

"Except for fictional characters," he added while getting into his own chair across from you.

"Yeah. Unfortunately they aren't available for me to ask out."

He leaned back in his seat. “We’re really missing out on these things. I thought by the time I was in high school training to be a cool hero, I would have tons of girls who like me by now.”

“And I, for some reason, thought I would magically manifest a special someone. But that’s clearly not happening anytime soon.” You stared down while absent mindedly stirring your food.

He suddenly sat straight and looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes. The kind that told you he had an idea. "What if we did all of that classy Valentine's day stuff together?"

"I think you meant cliche."

"Banana, ba- ... oh wait, that's not how the saying goes."

You let out a large laugh and nearly choked on your food.

"Something with tomatoes or potatoes," he continued with a wave of his hand as if throwing away the topic. "Well, what do you think? You wanna do it?"

"You just want the chocolate, don't you?"

"No! I would never!" He waved his arms around. "... Well, that too."

"I knew it!" You lifted your fork/chopstick of food into air in triumph. "Just make sure you get my favorite chocolate once White Day rolls around."

"Sure thing!" He gave a thumbs up. "I'm sure I can get enough money by then!"

"You've been using all of it on manga and snacks again, haven't you?"

"What else would I use it on?"

"Okay. Just don't use the money for my chocolate on manga."

"If I did, It would be a great manga and be worth a lot more than some chocolate. Actually, that should be a thing. Instead of getting girls chocolate, get them manga! And we should get manga too. ... So, are we doing it?" he asked when he paused long enough to think.

"I don't know,” you shrugged while taking another bite.

He slammed his hand on the table. "But you said it like you did! I just agreed to get you chocolate next month!"

"I was saying if I agreed. If I agreed then you would have to get me chocolate.” You internally laughed at his response.

Kaminari slumped in his chair. "Okay, but my point is, how long have we been single? And it doesn't look like it's going to change anytime soon, so I was thinking why not we experience some of it while we're still in high school?"

"Hmmm," you tapped your finger against your lip. "Well, you have a point. And I guess I got nothing better to do tomorrow."

“So it’s a yes?” his eyes lit up.

“I guess so.”

“Yes!” He jumped up and some heads turned towards him. “I got a—!”

You hastily pulled him back down and got a hold of his ear. He yelped in pain before you shushed him. The attention he had gained was beginning to die down after doing that, much to your relief. You released a small puff of air, grateful that you didn’t feel like you were in a spotlight anymore.

“Kaminari,” you whispered into his ear, an edge present in your voice, “Don’t go announcing it to the world, especially if it’s not an actual date. Do not ruin it for me.”

You let go, and he got out of the awkward position of being pulled half way onto the table. Thankfully, he hadn’t landed in his food when you pulled him down. He settled back in his chair and rubbed his ear.

“Okay! You can count on me!”

 Maybe it was a bad idea to suddenly agree when that meant you had to make chocolate for him that night. You already had some chocolate you bought from the store for family and friends. One of those giri chocos was originally going to be his, but now you would have to actually make him honmei choco if you were going to have the whole Valentine's Day experience. You considered skipping on that for a brief second, but you had already agreed to do it. Plus, you weren't sure if you would ever get to do this during high school at this rate. And you wanted to at least have done it once.

You'd have to run to the store to get better quality chocolate, a cute wrap for it, and a heart shaped mold. In order to save time, you went directly to the nearest store after school. It would save time, which you didn't have much of it. You didn't know how long it would take to make them, and you wanted some extra time in case you make a mistake and had to do something over again.

It was more crowded than you thought. You also didn't realize how many stares you would get just for being in your U.A. uniform. Thankfully, everything you needed was there and you made your way to the counter to pay. As you were weaving your way through the people, you thought you saw another student. You did a double take. Uniform. Pink skin. Ashido.

You tried to duck and hide, but it was too late.

"Oh, hey!" She waved you down and ran to you. A bag of purchased goods was hanging from her arm. "What are you doing here? Are you getting last minute giri choco too!"

“I, uh.”

“Hey, isn't that stuff to make chocolate? Wait a second… OMG! Who’s the lucky person!”

You nervously held the items close to you. This was why you didn't want her seeing you. "No one, really. I'm just... making it for the experience." You put a smile onto your face and did your best to make the last half of the sentence sound cheery.

It wasn't technically a lie. You just hoped she bought it. Because if she kept prying and learned it was for Kaminari, you would never hear the end of it.

"Okay. Can I have some when you're done?" She joked and bumped your arm with her elbow.

"Only if I didn't eat it all first." You internally high fived yourself for the quick reply.

"Okay. Well, see you at U.A." She waved before dashing out the door.

"Bye!" You watched her go. When she was out of view, you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding.

 You stood nervously in the park. You wore a Valentine Day themed outfit you had put together, with the help of some ideas from the internet. It was 5:45 pm, the time you agreed on meeting. You had honestly expected him to be slightly late. Though it did nothing to make your feel less jittery.

There were quite a few people who also had the same idea of going to the park. Some friends playing Frisbee. A family walking by. And some couples. You scanned the area for him, multiple times, but still couldn't see him.

Why were you even so worried? This was your friend. It’s not like it was an actual date with someone you liked. If he forgot or something, you could just chew him out later. Then that 'what if' situation made you sick to your stomach and you forced yourself to stop thinking about it.

"Hey!"

You head turned up within a split second and you saw him. He wore a dark blue button up shirt. This plus his smile and hair... somehow made him look nice. A smile spread on your face, yet your nerves didn't completely calm down just yet.

"Hey!" You greeted back.

"You look nice," he commented.

"You too." You nodded. "So, what were you planning on doing first?"

"I thought we'd walk around here first, then go to this one restaurant. And after that we can wander around shops." he shrugged.

"Okay, sounds nice." You began walking side by side with him.

Your brain tried to sabotage the moment by beginning to make you feel awkward. You did your best to push it away. But were you supposed to be walking in silence? Or talking?

"You wanna hold hands?" He offered.

"Hmm," you joking held your finger to your lip in deep thought. "I think no."

"Oh, come on!" He acted upset, but there was a big grin on his face.

You laughed and he joined in. A few more jokes were thrown back and forth as you passed trees and other people. Though within a seemingly short amount of time, the conversation hit dead end. You pulled on your sleeve and look in any direction but him.

"Okay, this is getting boring,” he said. “Can we go to the restaurant now?”

"Lucky for you, I think we're almost at the end of the park, and I'm hungry."

“Yes!” he cheered. “They always make walking through the park look more fun in the movies.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a laugh.

Kaminari led you to the place he picked out. Well, more like he tried to go there, then got lost and had to give up on relying on his memory. He made the brilliant move of pulling out his phone, setting the location on his map app, and he following it. But you both realized that he had gotten the point where you going mixed up with your location.  This resulted in having to backtrack and ignoring your growling stomach as it took even longer to get there.

Finally, you found it. You entered through door with him. Inside were tables placed around a large circle. The conveyor belt had several plates of food with different types of sushi and other dishes. The chiefs in the middle of the circle conveyor worked hard to keep the food coming. Almost every table was filled.

“Aw, man. We should have gotten here earlier,” Kaminari grabbed your hand. “C’mon.”

You both ran until you spotted a free table and slide in. It took a second to catch your breath after the sudden sprint. Sitting in the chair, you looked around more closely. It was a nice place. There were people chattering, some clanking of plates, and mouth watering food slowly passing by you. You reached up to begin to grab one, but then you stopped yourself.

"Wait, am I paying for myself or where you...?"

"You can have whatever you want. My treat," he replied with a ish eating grin. Probably meant that he thought what he just said was very cool.

You laughed to yourself and picked one and he did the same. It was good. You were pleasantly surprised, though you weren't sure why. Maybe it was because he had only learned of the restaurant while looking up ones online to take you to. And it was only yesterday that you agreed. Then again, you had made honmei choco the other night...

You suddenly remembered something and nearly choked on your sushi roll.

"You okay?" Kaminari said, unfortunately dismissing any hope you had that he didn't notice.

"No, I'm good. I just need to make a phone call. One second." You excused yourself and walked outside while pulling out your phone.

It was an uncomfortable change to suddenly be greeted by the chilly February air. Was it really that cold when you  were with Kaminari? You dialed your mom's number and resisted the urge to pace.

As soon as you heard the other end being picked up, you began. "Mom, I need you to get something for me. If you look in the kitchen, somewhere on the counter is where I left a bag of chocolate for Valentine's day. Can you bring that to me?" You had been so busy trying to get ready and be on time, that you had accidentally left the honmei choco you made.

"Uhh, okay. But where are you? It’ll be awfully hard to give it to you if I don’t know where you are."

"In a little bit I should be..." you tried to think of a good point to meet up, "near Takoba Municipal Beach Park. Probably close to that one gazebo. I'll text you that so you don't forget after I hang up."

"Okay. I hope you appreciate this. I really don't feel like going all the way out there to give you something you forgot."

"If I could go back and un-forget it, I would. Thank you. Bye."

With that, the call ended. You took a deep breath to calm your heart, which seemed to think forgetting chocolate was a catastrophic event, and went back inside.

When you caught sight of Kaminari again he was dunking a chunk of seaweed and fish into soy sauce, before shoving it into his already full mouth. He stopped  and paused upon seeing you. He chewed and swallowed as quickly as he could and finished by the time you sat back down.

"So, what was that about?" he started it off as a joke, but his voice seemed shaky for whatever reason.

"I just forgot something and asked Mom to go get it for me." Technically wasn't a lie.

"Oh, okay." He began eating more. He started counting the plates and you could see his face pale a tad.

"Is everything alright for you?"

"Huh? I mean, yeah, everything's great." He smiled at you.

You shrugged and focused your gaze on the conveyor belt. A particularly delicious looking morsel. It was clearly more expensive, with a nice layer of tuna in it. You reached out your hand, considering getting it when you saw Kaminari flinch at your action.

You turned to him. "Do I need to pay for my own meal?"

"No, no," he tried to retain the coolness he built up, "I can pay."

You sighed. "No, you are not going broke because of expensive fish."

"But, that's not-"

"What? It's not cool? Denki- oops.” You realized you accidentally used his given name.

His face turned the slightest bit pink, though you hardly even noticed in your own embarrassment. “That’s fine. You can call me Denki. We’ve known each other long enough.”

“Thanks,” you nodded and continued, “Denki, you are my friend," why did the word 'friend' leave a different taste this time 'round? "and I don't want you doing something stupid because you think it makes you look cool."

He struggled to make a comeback and ended up blurting out, "Doing something stupid that makes me look cool defines me."

"Look, let's split the bill between us, that way you pay for some of mine, but you don't spend up the money for the chocolate you promised me."

"Wait, you didn't care about me, you just wanted to make sure you still got chocolate." He faked an offended expression.

You exhaled a laugh. "Yeah, sure. Whatever makes you feel better. As long as you agree."

"Fine."

"But don't purposefully buy more just because I'm offering to pay half."

"Can't make any promises~"

"You little-"

Eventually, you became full enough, or rather reached the maximum to what you were willing to pay. Then you left. You blinked when you stepped out. You hadn’t expected it to become this dark. Kaminari began walking off, probably to some store or the mall, but you grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Is it alright if we stop by the beach?"

His eyes lit up, like the stars in the sky. "Great idea! That'd be much more romantic."

You expected to roll your eyes, but what you found was your face growing warm and your mouth being lost for words. Thankfully, he didn't notice and just started running for the beach, pulling you along. Buildings loomed over you in the dark, until they finally cleared and the beach came into view. The sea seemed to become the night sky. It gently washed over the sand in a rhymic pattern. The sound of it filled your ears and your senses listened. A sense of calmness washed over you.

You both walked up to the gate that separated the beach from the road. Kaminari leaned against the metal gate, resting on his arms. The two of you stared at the view in a comfortable silence.

“Wow, this is nice,” he commented.

“Yeah.” There was a weird feeling, somewhat reminiscent to a flutter or squeeze, in your chest. Something that made the moment seem more magical. You could almost feel this feeling rising and beginning to climb up your throat.

More silence, then a movement caught your attention out the corner of your eye. Your mom was waving to you and held a small bag that slightly reflected in the small amount of light there was.

“One second, I need to go get something,” you let him know and ran to your mom. “Thank you so much.”

“Just don’t make this a habit,” she handed it to you. Then she glanced to where Kaminari was and squinted. “Is that your date? Is that why you were making chocolate?”

“No,” your voice came out more unsure for some reason, “well, I… was just making that for myself. This is just giri choco.”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “Don’t stay out much longer.”

“I won’t.” You quickly ran back. “Hey,” you greeted him.

“Hey. What was that about?”

“Noting important,” you shrugged and leaned on the gate. “Oh, and here.” You held the bag out to him, trying to act cool and nonchalant, but you knew you had a big smirk on your face.

He gasped and snatched it out of your hold. He wrestled with the bag, trying to get it open. Once he succeeded, he looked inside. A big smile spread across his face and he pulled it out. He held a large chocolate heart on a stick, almost like a lollipop. You thought that would be fun to make. Of course, now that he held it, you could see all the tiny imperfections. Like where a small air bubble had been, or how some chocolate had gotten on the stick. But Kaminari didn’t seem to care at all. He stared at it in awe. Like he had just been given something he wanted for years.

“Wow! Wait, did your mom just give this to you? Did you forget?” he looked over to you.

“What, no, I would never…” you laughed nervously. “But I did make it. You better like it, or else,” you joked.

“I’m sure I will! Wow. You made this?”

“Yep. Last night.”

“Thank you!” He took a bite out of it and began happily chewing.

You smiled. Your eyes locked onto the gazebo on the beach. It looked really nice. The thought of you being in it made you want to go even more. Currently there was a couple there, but then they walked out and started going down the beach. Your eyes lit up.

You looked to Kaminari, tugged on his sleeve, and pointed to the now empty location.

He grinned. “I think I know what you’re thinking and I think we should do it too.”

With a couple of small laughs you both hurried down to the beach was fast as you could. The sand made you slow your pace into a walk, but you didn’t mind. The sea air on you felt refreshing, chilling your skin. The moon was beautiful and the water reflected slivers of the moonlight that danced.

"It looks really nice." You smiled.

"Yeah... wanna hold hands?" He offered his free hand to you.

To your surprise, this actually sounded nice. And to your greater surprise, you accepted. Your hand slipped in his perfectly. Almost like it found its home. The second you skin touched, it was like electricity ran through you and jump started your heart. You were about to ask if he was using his quirk, but quickly realized that it didn't feel exactly like electricity. But the strange feeling in your heart continued. You couldn't tell if it felt nice or if you wanted it to go away.

Your feet kept sinking in the sand until you reached the pier and had to get used to walking on concrete again. You made your way to the roof on the end of the pier, hand in hand. You stood by the edge. Staring at the water.

Kaminari took the last bite. “That was delicious.”

“Thanks.”

“So…” he looked around. He put the stick back into the bag and placed it in his pocket. “Wanna dance?”

Instead of your usual joking reply, you felt flustered, but shyly accepted. He pulled out his phone and started some music up. You put your hand in his and the other on his shoulder. He held you by the waist. You tried to regulate your breathing and calm down. The two of you began spinning in time with the music. He twirled you around. You even did that one move you would see in movies. When you’d spin out, like a door opening, while still holding his hand. The he’d pull you back to him. It all felt simple, and fun.

Right as the fourth song was ending, you had an overwhelming urge to ask him something. “Umm,” then you stopped yourself when you realized exactly what it was you actually wanted to ask. But why did it feel like it was rising out of your throat, desperately wanting to be said.

“Yeah?” he looked at you. His yellow eyes made you feel like melting, an effect they never had up until that point.

“I… it was nothing.”

“Really?”

“No.” You cursed yourself for automatically saying the truth.

 “Then what is it?” He looked at you more intently.

Your mind was doing somersaults trying to figure out what to do or say. “Date, please,” you blurted out.

“Huh?”

“Well, um.” You really wished you had kept your mouth shut. You stared down and said in the most quiet voice possible, “I think maybe I kinda like you and maybe, kinda, want to go on a real date with you. Maybe? If you’d be fine with that, maybe.”

“Wait,” he stepped back as if in surprise. “You. Want to date… me?”

Your face was burning to the point you wanted to stick into the water like an ostrich. “Yes?”

He threw his arms in the air and jumped around. “Yes! I got an actual date! I’m finally dating someone! They said I couldn’t do it!”

“You don’t need to announce it to the whole world.” You laughed.

“Well, you are m—”

“I swear, if you say finish with ‘my world’ I will knock you over the head.”

He let out a big laugh. “Why? You don’t want to be my world?”

His laughter was contagious. “No, it’s cheesy, and this literally just happened a minute ago.”

You both started to walk back, and hardly even noticed when your hands slipped perfectly into one another.

[pagingevilspawn]

Would you please write a fic about alex and jo help their daughter with her homework, they would be kinds cute help them study

cross my heart, hope to die, please stick this pencil in my eye

there’s a reason this took me forever. reason number one, two, and three; proofs. i was unable to write this because of proofs. i got this ask and LIKE A CHILD decided that i wanted to make my fictional characters suffer as much as i did. so once i was done with proofs, i had to write something about proofs, which made me exhausted because i hate even talking about proofs

that made no sense, but here’s this thing that i made. lots of it was my real life monologue, screaming at my computer bc of fucking proofs. enjoy. (also, let’s appreciate the fact that i updated three whole days in a row)

(also, another installment of the “payton loves evan peters too much” series, where i name jolex babies after his AHS characters)

Alex Karev sat in the drivers side of his SUV, making a right onto the upcoming street as he listened to the song playing on the radio. He drummed his fingers along the steering wheel absentmindedly, pulling up to the curbside of James Madison Middle School, waiting patiently in his seat until he heard the five minute warning bell ring.

When the loud bell goes off, he exits the car and makes his way to the other side, learning against the door so his kids would know it was him. Too many parent’s owned black range rovers, and the last thing Alex needed was for either one of his kids to climb into the back seat of some stranger's car. 

He didn’t need to wait long for children to start piling out of the school in large crowds. Middle school was so different from elementary, for his kids at least. He remembers when they would come sprinting out of the building as if their lives depended on it, but now they just casually strolled, no matter how much they liked or disliked school. 

A few minutes later he catches sight of his daughter, who’s eyes light up when she sees him. He wasn’t supposed to pick them up today, the nanny was. But he had gotten off of work early and had insisted with Jo that he be the one to pick up the kids. It was a task he wished he got to do more often. 

“Hey.” his daughter greets him with a smile on her face. He steps aside and lets her enter the side door, where she flops her black backpack on the floor and settles into the seat, pulling out her phone and begins to start scrolling through it. 

“Dad!” he hears another voice exclaim, quickly tracing it to his son, who was currently running to the car, backpack bouncing up and down behind him. The sixth grader moved across the property quickly, greeting his dad with a fist bump before sliding into the back seat.

He closes both of his kids doors before making his way into the driver's side, revving up the car’s engine before he drives down the long block, whatever music his daughter decided on playing through the radio. 

Alex winces when the music begins to blare through the car, “Brynn, turn that crap down would you?”

Brynn’s face looks scandalized. “It’s not crap. It’s art.” she emphasizes, turning it up even louder and screaming the words. (Poor Brynn couldn’t sing, and she knew it)

“I came in like a wreeckingggg ballll I never hit so harddd in loveeee all i wanted was to break your walls all you ever did wre-e-e-ck meee.” she yells, using her phone as a microphone, hair flying around wildly as she moved up and down, side to side in her seat.  

Alex rolls his eyes, unable to hide the smile on his lips. His wife and daughter were too much alike sometimes. He turns the knob himself, sending his daughter a look, silently telling her not to do it again. 

“I think it’s crap. Just like how I think you sound like a dying cat whenever you sing.” his son pipes in from the back, a signature Karev smirk plastered on his lips as he keeps his gaze locked on his phone. 

“Shut up Rory,” she sneers, “Nobody likes you.” 

Rory fakes a laugh, looking back to his phone, and then to the scenery outside his window. They passed house after house until they finally reached their destination, John Quincy Adams Elementary School.

“Wait here,” Alex instructs the two kids, who murmurs their we know’s, more focused on the devices in their hand to the words coming out of his mouth. 

He makes his way to the ‘log cabin’ that sat at the front of the school, giving a friendly smile to the woman sitting at the sign out table, a crappy fold out plastic table that had definitely seen better days. “Faye and Bridgette Karev.” 

The woman slides the forms across the table, handing him a pen. “Sign here and here. I’ll go get them right now.” She stands up from her seat and heads inside to tell the two girls that their father had arrived.

Alex sprawls his messy signature onto the page, huffing before leaning up against the gate. His girls could take anywhere from thirty seconds to five minutes to pack up their things. Luckily today didn’t seem to be the latter, because before he knew it, the two youngest Karev’s came bouncing towards him. 

“Daddy!” “Daddy!” 

The seven year olds gave him a large hug, showing him matching toothless smiles. When Jo and him found out that she was pregnant for a third time, they were overjoyed. They had always wanted more than two kids, but hadn’t really been actively trying. They were excited to expand their family of four into a family of five. When they discovered that she was not carrying not one, but two babies, they were shocked. Jo wasn’t expecting to get pregnant at thirty-nine, much less with twins. Brynn was seven at the time, and Rory was five, so they were worried about how their kids would react when they found out two new babies would be joining the Karev household. 

Rory --surprisingly-- took the news really well. He was excited with the fact that he could have baby brothers. (Oh well. Alex Karev only seemed to make girls, Rory being the one exception.) 

Brynn was a bit more reluctant. She had heard from her friends at school how much babies cried and stole all the attention. She loved both her parent’s equally, but she was a Daddy’s girl through and through. The thought of losing both of her parent’s focus was terrifying. What if her Daddy called her new siblings names like Bug or Princess? Those were her names, and her names only. She couldn’t let the new babies steal her names. 

It took a while, but after multiple long talks and countless acts of reassurance, but Brynn eventually came around to the idea. Before they knew it, Brynn was just as excited for the upcoming babies as they were. Jo was worried throughout her whole pregnancy. Since she was almost forty, she was now considered to have a geriatric pregnancy. Just the word ‘geriatric’ did nothing to soothe any woman’s nerves, but add that to the fact that Jo was a surgeon and knew all the risks of pregnancy, and she was practically a mess the first few months. As it turned out, the twins ended up being her easiest pregnancy, since Brynn decided to make her entrance into the world four weeks early and while she was carrying Rory she had the occasional spotting that terrified her to her core every time, worried that she was miscarrying. 

The twins ended up being born at thirty-five weeks, perfectly healthy. The only thing that gave Jo any trouble at all was the severe morning sickness, which turned out to be all day sickness. 

But in the end it was way more than worth it. Faye was pretty much Jo reincarnated, just like Brynn. Every aspect about her was exactly like her mom. Her hair, her eyes, her face shape, chin. The only thing that she inherited was the Karev crooked grin, which all of their children had. (She didn’t even have a big Karev head when she was born!) 

Bridgette on the other hand, was all Alex, except for the eye color. Between her potty mouth, sassy attitude, and overall appearance, she was the female mini evil-spawn. 

The Evil Spawn Jr, title belonged to Rory, who was basically the male version of Bridgette. Same spunk, same mischievous smirk. Jo was always telling him that she didn’t know what she did to deserve three devil’s in her house. Alex always found that one really funny. 

“You guys got everything?” he questions the two, who nod their heads up and down enthusiastically, skipping to the car and greeting their siblings. 

He drives the twenty-five minutes back to his house, the twins chattering about in the back seat. 

“And then Julie showed her her math problems, and I tried to tell her they were wrong, but she just wouldn’t listen!”

“Tommy was sooo annoying. I kept telling him to stop making noises with his pencil, but he just rolled it back and forth so many times!”

Alex laughs under his breath, listening partially to the twins’s conversation. They sounded exactly like how Cristina and Mer used to rant about completely different things to each other, so it never failed to make him think back to the ‘olden days’ as he and Meredith liked to call them. 

If someone were to tell cocky, intern Alex that he would be happily married to the love of his life for (legally) fifteen years, father of four kids, and lived in a house that literally had a white picket fence on the outside of it, he would’ve sent them to a long term psychiatric care facility, because there was no way he would ever have that life. (A life he always secretly wanted, tucked into the very tiniest corner of his brain so it could never venture farther than a fleeting thought here or there). 

“--We’re here,” he calls out, shutting off the engine as he parks in the driveway, the kids unbuckling their seatbelts and scrambling out of the car, eager to escape the confines of the vehicle and enjoy the peace of their rooms. 

Once all five were inside, he watched as the four children parted ways. “Faye, Bridge, you have thirty minutes of reading down here. Ror, you have that history test you need to study for, and Brynn, you know what you need to do.” he says, his two oldest tromping up the stairs as the twins take their place in the living room on separate seats, already engrossed in the books they needed to read as part of their daily homework assignments. 

Alex lets out a tired sigh as he flops onto the couch, more than tempted to grab the remote from the side table and flick on ESPN, but knew that he couldn’t. As much as the girls loved reading, they got distracted from books really easily. Loud horns, cheers, and buzzers wouldn’t be the way to go if he wanted any work to get done. Instead, he plucks the iPad from the coffee table, picking up where he left off that morning with an online medical article.

Before he knew it, Faye and Bridgette’s timer had rung out and they started on their math homework on the kitchen island, something that they finished with ease. Another trait Alex was grateful the children inherited from Jo, her smarts. (Specifically in math)

“Ugh!” he hears a loud exclaim from upstairs, causing him to look up from the device in his hands and glance towards the steps, half expecting an angry looking Brynn to come storming out at any moment. He huffs, focusing his attention back to the iPad in hand when no mini Jo comes down. 

“No! There are no other ways!”

Another loud groan of frustration. 

“Son of a butthead! There are NO more ways! None! I don't know how the frick to prove that the freakin angle is congruent!”

Alex debates ignoring it and letting his daughter figure it out on his own, that is until he hears something hit a wall. He quickly makes his way up the stairs and to Brynn’s bedroom, standing in the doorway for a few seconds, trying to observe the scene. 

Brynn’s normally pristine room had books scattered on the ground, blankets thrown to the side, and an open notebooks posed at an awkward angle on the floor. 

Well, at least he knew what hit the wall.  

Brynn sat on her bed, literally glaring at her computer screen, partially debating whether or not to throw the expensive device across the room. She didn’t break eye contact, as if she was in a staring contest. Alex wanted to laugh, but he knew a deathly glare would be sent his way if he did. 

He knocks on the wood door, sending a questioning glance Brynn’s way as she finally breaks her stare with the inanimate object. “Everything okay?”

The brunette huffs loudly, bouncing back onto the bed as she lets out a groan. 

“I hate proofs.” she turns her head to look at her dad, Jo’s signature puppy dog face plastered on her features. He couldn’t help but chuckle. It was crazy how much Brynn looked like Jo. Add that onto the fact that she too shared a love for flannels and jeans, she was pretty much what he imagined a fourteen year old Jo to look like. When he first found out that Brynn was going to be a girl, he said to Jo, ‘I’m gonna need a gun.’ 

Luckily, that never happened, partially because of the fact that Alex hated guns and Brynn had yet to have a boyfriend. He was more than thankful for that. Especially since he’d seen couples at Brynn’s school canoodling in what they thought was private, even though they were in full view of everyone. He’d be fine with his not-so-little little girl dating when she was twenty-five, no earlier. Any man before that would not be very fortunate. 

“I’ll help,” Alex says, taking a spot next to her and Brynn begins to show he dad the problems on her screen, going on about how she was struggling to figure it out. 

Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

____

Jo Karev was thrilled when Bailey offered to take over her service for the rest of the day. Her husband had gotten off early, and Bailey knew how much of a struggle it was to spend quality time with family as a surgeon. 

She thanked Bailey so many times she lost count, all while boasting a large smile. She couldn’t remember the last time both she and Alex had been home before five o’clock. All she wanted was to go home, snuggle with her babies, and spend time with her husband. Well, her babies weren’t technically babies anymore, Brynn was fourteen, Rory was nearly twelve, and the twins were seven, but nevertheless, they would always be her babies. (Who cared if Rory was five foot three and already almost as tall as her? He was still such a mommy’s boy.)

She drove home with a smile on her face, humming along to the songs on the radio. She was so happy. She wanted to take her kids in her arms, and watch action movies on the couch while they pigged out on pizza together. 

When she pulls up in the drive she practically bounces up the steps to the house, swinging open the door and dropping her coat carelessly onto the rack. She hadn’t texted Alex to let him know she was coming home early, in hopes to make it a joyful surprise. 

Her heart stopped momentarily at the sound of yelling coming from upstairs. Arguments between Brynn and Alex were few and far between, but when they did happen, they were nasty. Alex always felt like crap for days afterward and Brynn stayed quiet, both at home and at school. 

“Do the reflexive property again!”

“Dad we already did that!”

“Well do it again!”

“Why?!”

“Do you see any other way to do it?”

“How is that going to help!”

“It just is!”

“Dad, we've done the reflexive property five times now!”

“You think I don’t know that!”

“Say that segment DA is congruent to AD.”

“But-”

“There are literally no other fucking ways to do it! It’s fucking shit! Thats what it is!”

“You act as if I didn’t already freakin know that!”

A loud groan. 

“What the fuck even is this one! We’ve managed to do three of them already. Try proving the triangles congruent now. Push random ones, like Side-Angle-Side.” 

“This is crap! ‘You don’t have enough proof to show that the blah blah blah.’ Stupid freaking thing! Freaking worthless!”

Jo is unable to suppress her giggle, clasping a hand over her mouth, trying not to make too much noise. It was a relief to know that the current screaming match going on wasn’t an argument. 

“They’ve been at that for an hour and a half now.” she hears her son pipe in, drawing her attention to where he sat on the couch. 

Jo sets her bag down on the table, greeting her son with a large hug, “Hi bubs.” she mumbles into his hair, feeling his arms wrap back around her. In private, Rory was the biggest cuddler, touchy-feely person you’d ever met, but in front of his friends he tried way too hard to show he was ‘too cool’ for hugging his mom, so Jo took in these moments and held them close to her heart.

“An hour and a half huh?” she chuckles, running a hand through her son’s gelled hair. 

Rory snickers, hazel eyes shining with mischief, “Yeah, dad won’t stop cursing and Tissy just keeps screaming alongside him,” he sits back onto the couch. “I’m surprised neither one of them had lost their voice yet.” he smirks his crooked Karev smirk, focusing his attention on the TV where he had opened up netflix, where he was currently binging Bates Motel. The name ‘Tissy’ came from when he was younger and couldn’t for the life of him say either Brynn nor Sissy. It seemed to have stuck all these years, and he was the only one who ever called his older sister that, even ten years later.

She sees him cringe, “I never called you mother right?” he asks, eyes not leaving the screen, where a certain Norman Bates is practically spooning his own mother in the bed, claiming that he couldn’t sleep. 

Jo snorts, ruffling his hair fondly, “Definitely not. And if you ever do, you’re dead Ror, hear me?”

Rory rolls his eyes playfully, giving his mom a grin. “I won’t. Promise.”

Jo heads up the stairs, the loud yells continuing to echo through the halls, which she chooses to ignore. 

“Dad for the fiftieth freaking time-”

“--What’s going on here?” Jo questions, causing both her husband and daughter to break away their concentration from the computer screen. 

Brynn’s face lights up at the sight of her mom standing in the doorway, more than thankful to have someone who actually knew stuff help her with her math. “Mom!” she exclaims, getting up from her place on the bed to give her mother a hug. 

“Hey baby. Care to explain to me why the second I walk through the door I'm greeted with screaming?” She questions, eyebrows raised as she sees Alex sheepishly avoid eye contact, suddenly finding the pictures that hung on the wall very interesting. 

Brynn smirks, “Well, Dad sucks at math so-”

“--Hey!” Alex interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest. “I haven’t done this crap in like thirty years!” He defends himself.

Jo rolls her eyes and smiles of her own gracing her lips as she reaches the bed and takes a look at the problems on the computer. “Proofs?” she asks from confirmation, earning a nod from her husband and daughter. 

She hums, “Given: segment CA bisects angle BAD and segment CA bisects BCD. Prove: triangle ABC is congruent to triangle ADC.” she murmurs to herself.

The brunette laughs when she sees the fact that the pair had put down some form of the ‘reflexive property’ not one, not two, but seven times.

She grins triumphantly as she remembers how to do the problem, the skills seemingly coming back to her after years of them being dormant. “Next statement is angle BCA is congruent to DCA because…” she scrolls through the possible options the box provided, smirking when she found the right one. “An angle bisector divides an angle into two congruent angles.”  

She watches as an angle pops up on the screen, only encouraging her to continue, “Then… angle DAC is congruent to angle BAC because an angle bisector divides an angle into two congruent angles.” 

Another angle comes up. 

“Finally,” she smirks, glancing to the side of for a brief second to take in the draw dropped stares of the two behind her. Brynn was a whiz at math like her mom, but proofs was something she’d been struggling with since they’d started learning them yesterday. Geometry was no joke. Her and her dad had already gotten almost all of the problems done, but it had taken so long to do a few measly problems that they’d lost track of just how long they'd been sitting in the room, arguing back and forth over different possibilities to try. 

“Triangle ABC is congruent to triangle ADC, reason being Angle-Side-Angle.” 

She grins, wiping her hands together as she hits the submit button, a large green check with a correct! floating on the screen, going over the ways to solve the problem. 

Alex glares at her. He’d been working on these fucking proofs for so long now, and Jo just comes in and completes it in less than a minute?

“I hate you.” he gruffs, still glaring at both his wife and the computer. 

Jo giggles, leaning over and pecking her husband’s lips. “Love you too.” 

She begins to walk out of the room, stopping and calling out over her shoulder as she reaches the doorway, “Now you just need to make sure the twins did their homework!”

[severeblizzardlady]

Isekai in the Time of Quarantine (Part 1)

[Twice/Jin Bubaigawara -- because certain happenings in the manga are making me feel things and I have to write something to feel better]

Warnings for: Spoilers, cursing, inappropriate amounts of author fawning over fictional character (but, really, someone has to), crack-ish content (but it’s Twice, so...)

“What the fuck.” 

You stared at the page open on your phone. Then you went back a page. Then you went back to the page you were previously on. Unfortunately, the same words were there, the same images. Images of a man with a torn mask, his face bloody and sweaty and tear-stained running for a door. For a light. For his friends.

Only to be cut off by a shadowed figure--Hawks, Keigo Takami--bringing down a feather large enough to be a sword and just as deadly.

You couldn’t believe it. Jin Bubaigawara, AKA the villain Twice from the series Boku no Hero Academia just....

“No way.” For a second you debated closing out the page. But you kept reading. Maybe you were hoping for a miracle. That you’d jumped the gun. That Twice would Falcon Punch Hawks and make that beeline for his buds like he was planning.  

He didn’t.

“God damn, Hori.” You sniffled when you finished the chapter. God, you were even crying. How were you that attached to a character? Of course, even as you wondered that, you knew it was because Twice, Jin, had been such a well fleshed-out character. A character with dimension. 

Oh yeah, he was evil. You knew that without a doubt. But he’d been alone, cast out by the world and forced to resort to crime because nobody that was “good” or “upstanding” trusted him. It almost made you wish he’d taken up Hawks on the whole, turn over a new leaf thing. Not that he would have. The League of Villains were his friends, not his coworkers. He’d said it himself--their happiness was his reason for living. He wouldn’t have been able to function without them.

It would have ripped him apart.  

Well, at least Jin had died happy with how his life had turned out. And his clone had gotten to see Toga one last time and protect his buds. It was a bittersweet ending to the chapter, and to Jin’s character, but you were content with how Horikoshi had gone about it. 

Your phone’s alarm dinged then, a single note like a wind chime. You sighed, flipping onto your side in bed. The chapter had almost made you forget that you were stuck in your apartment. Because of the sickness going around, a stay-at-home order had been enforced. Everyone was sequestered in their homes--or they were supposed to be anyway--to decrease the numbers of the sick. 

Fortunately, your job allowed you to work from home. Unfortunately, your parents and your siblings were pretty spread out. Sure, you’d messaged them and video chatted. Hell, you’d just talked to your parents before reading up on the last chapter of BNHA. But your apartment felt too big, too quiet, too empty. 

You missed being in the same room with people. Both the intimate stuff and the simple things. Like talking. Or cooking. At the rate you were going, you’d end up making friends with all your stuff. You were already calling your fridge Frida. 

I’ll talk to Mom and Dad tomorrow. You decided, eyes starting to feel heavy. See if they’ll let me stay with them until this all passes. 

***

“Are we renting out the base now?” You groaned at the man’s voice and flipped onto your side. Without looking at your alarm clock or phone, there was no way of telling the time. But you were pretty sure it was too early to be awake. The way your eyelids seemed to be glued shut was all the indication you need. 

“Man, those Liberation guys sure like making money.” 

You groaned a little louder, eyes still shut as you felt for your phone. Seriously, who was talking so much, so early in the morning? Didn’t they realize some people needed to work the next day? In the next few hours even? 

“This what you’re looking for?” Someone put your phone in your hand. Which would have been all fine and dandy if anyone actually lived with you. Shrieking, you threw yourself out of bed, getting tangled in your sheets and landing butt first on the ground as a result. 

There was a man in your room.

There was a man dressed up as Twice in your room.

There was a freaking Twice cosplayer in your room at four AM.

The floor felt cold. Your butt was killing you. It felt like your leg was gonna pop out of the socket from how it was tangled up in your bedding. You weren’t dreaming. Dammit, you weren’t dreaming, and there was a whackadoodle in your apartment.  

This was not the company you were looking for!

He took a step towards you, hands raised, and you screamed again. You flung your phone at him, kicking your tangled leg until you were free so you could run for your life. “Help!” You felt the man try to grab at you, but adrenaline propelled you into the living area. Something fell off your table when you slammed into it. 

Still, you didn’t stop running, even when you were out in the hallway. “Someone call the cops! Fire! Fire!”

***

“Look, even if there was someone in her apartment, he’s gone now.” 

Your landlady, clad in a blue, fluffy night gown with her hair in a bun, rolled her eyes at the police officer. “So that’s it? You’re not going to look for him. Is it too hard for police nowadays to find some costume-wearing nutjob who’s terrorizing one of my tenants?”

The police had come. Luckily, the nice lady at the end of the hall had heard your screams and called the police after ushering you into her apartment. Your landlady showed up not long after. She looked about ready to raise hell when she’d stomped down the stairs, woken up by the chaos and the police’s sudden arrival.

“Ma’am, he somehow avoided your security cameras, there’s not much else we can do. We’ll increase patrols in the area, but without a description of what the guy actually looks like, without the mask, that’s it.”

The police figured the man, whoever he was, had turned down the opposite end of the hallway while you cried for help and went down the stairs. One of the windows in the third floor hallway, a window facing the alley, was wide open. The security camera there hadn’t caught anything. The wires had been shorted out God only knew when.  

You tapped your fingers against your mug. It was pretty with little pastel flowers all over it. The landlady had given it to you at some point, there was a rich, red tea in it, but you couldn’t remember what the flavor was. 

“Pah, they expect us to do all the heavy-lifting, don’t they?” The landlady huffed once it was just the two of you. “’Course, you’d expect a little more decency, but with everything going to hell nowadays, I guess it’s no surprise,” she looked at you then, concern clear in her usually steely eyes. “Do you have anyone you can stay with tonight?”

You shook your head, eyes starting to burn. Every time you so much as blinked, you could see that man standing over you. 

Your landlady patted the table, a few inches away from your fingers. It was the closest thing you’d had to physical contact in the last week. You almost wished she’d touch you. “The sofa’s a fold-out,” she said, getting to her feet. “We’ll see about your place in the morning.” 

***

The only thing missing was your phone. There was no indication of forced entry at either of your windows or at the door (or the vents; you knew the guy wouldn’t have fit in the air vent--but it was an older building, and you’d read enough stories about people skulking through vents not to check). 

Your water bottle had fallen off the table. It had broken into pieces on the floor. But you’d finished the water off, so there weren’t any spills. 

“Come home,” Your dad had said when you video-called that afternoon. You could hear your mom crying in the background after you’d told them what’d happened. “We’ll get your phone shut down, and I’ll help you move everything.” 

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose over your medical mask. That was two days ago. You’d been staring at what remained of the frozen food section at the local grocery store for a good five minutes. It felt like all your nerves were on end. That guy was out there somewhere. Or he was in the store with you. Unless he was in a hospital bed because he’d jumped out of a third floor window. 

He could’ve been anyone. Almost anyone. And he knew where you lived and he had access to your phone--if he’d figured out how to unlock it anyways. And, again, wasn’t in the hospital.

It’s fine, You assured yourself, grabbing some chicken. Dad’s coming to get me in a few days, the boss is fine with me relocating as long as I keep working. It’s fine. I’m fine. 

“You dropped this.” 

Nope, nope, you weren’t fine. Were. Not. Fine. At all. Because you remembered that low voice from that night. But you still turned around. Because you were in a public place, even if the crowds were thinner than usual. And it wasn’t like he could hurt you as long as--

The man behind you was a little scruffy and had blond hair. He smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, but you could only tell because he was so close to you, breaching your personal space with blue eyes the size of pinpricks that gauged your every move. He was sweating, even though it was still cold out. It made your palms sweat around the basket’s handles.

Unhinged, that was the look in his eyes, in his face.

There was a brief moment where you feared he might pounce and try to bash your skull in. A really brief moment, which passed the second your eyes actually focused in on the scar on his forehead. As though he’d been stabbed with a knife.

And then you opened your mouth. Like a freaking dumbass.

“You went way too hard on that Jin cosplay.”   

[toledoendo]

You’ll Rise Up, Free and Easy

This is the second story in my series Amphora, an alternate-reality historical fan fiction based on the characters Tony Stark and Peter Parker from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The characters’ personalities remain mostly intact, but I’ve inserted them into my own reality for them. The series is set at the turn of the 20th Century.

This story is considerably darker than the first; it follows Tony Stark’s difficult childhood. Please exercise safe reading-- the story is not meant to hurt anybody! 

I’ve used this platform to purge some personal demons through the metaphor of child abuse. Keep yourself safe and feel free to read the next story in the series (at this time, it is unwritten) as it will not have that focus.

Story Summary: Peter Parker, a brilliantly talented ceramicist-in-training, has been Tony Stark's apprentice for ten days. To his delight, he's able to work closely with Tony and begins to learn more about him and bond with him. However, just as it seems that they are becoming an established part of each other's lives, tragedy puts distance between them.Peter strives to be a source of comfort and support for Tony during a season of grieving, adapting how he shows love to the ways Tony knows how to accept it.

Read the story after the break.

Chapter One: “Chokeberry and Baby Cheeks”

Early May, 1868

“Young Sir?” Jarvis peered around the trunk of a young chokeberry tree at the youth who was crouching in the knoll at its roots. He stepped around, keeping a gingerly distance for he could see that the boy was vulnerable, like a raw nerve.

Tony, blushing from exertion and violence, sat panting a few moments longer, ignoring Jarvis. He clutched at his right fist which was torn across the knuckles. Sweat was heavy on his face and neck and the smell, like well water, hung on him. There was blood peeking under his nose, a thin film across his teeth, as well as a cut on his left eyebrow.

Finally, Tony swallowed to force the remaining moisture evenly in his dry mouth and said, “Is Father going to be home tonight?”

Jarvis removed a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to him. “To my knowledge.” When Tony didn’t take the handkerchief, Jarvis pressed it under his nose himself. Tony resisted, but ceased struggling almost immediately. “Perhaps, though, when he arrives tonight, you’ll already be in bed, Young Sir.”

Tony looked up at him and said in a questioning way, as though expecting betrayal. “You’ll tell him.” Then he added, without waiting for an answer, “Damn British butlers and their sensibilities…” Tony took over the pressure on the handkerchief and Jarvis stood upright again.

Jarvis said sternly, “Let’s leave damnation to the clergy, shall we, sir? Unless you’re studying to become one?”

Tony scoffed then lowered his gaze deferentially.

Offering a hand, Jarvis said, “Strand up, please; crouching on the ground like a gopher is not dignified for a young man.” Jarvis noticed Tony roll his eyes as he obeyed; the butler stifled a smile. The boy pinched the handkerchief and removed it. Jarvis saw with relief that his nose was not bleeding anymore.

When Tony was standing before him, meeting his eyes, Jarvis leaned toward him confidentially. “As far as a British butler’s sensibilities are concerned, I am your father’s servant, not a spy. I have no inclination to report your behavior only for the sake of it.”

Tony listened, blinking at him passively.

Jarvis’s voice softened. “The only time I might do so is if I deem your actions would lead you to greater danger than you would receive at Master Stark’s hands. Are we at an understanding?”

At this Tony smirked and Jarvis nodded in a decisive manner. “Besides, any injurious behavior I witness from you, I shouldn’t wonder to think that we two could reach an understanding without need to concern your father.” He gave Tony a poignant look. “Do you agree, sir?”

This time Tony nodded but still smirked. He seemed to remember the times Jarvis could have handed him over to Howard, but didn’t. That was good enough for the boy to trust him. On those occasions, Jarvis would let him explain himself, rant, cry, and blame others, firmly correcting him if he was disrespectful, but otherwise allowing him to fully express his grievances. Then, he would speak to Tony solemnly but patiently, like he was a man.

“Now,” Jarvis said, shifting to a more curious tone, “might you inform me what foreign object collided with your face so as to leave you in such a state? Perhaps also, what response to the object you gave?”

Tony erupted. “I was trying to keep these boys from carving up my friend’s tree!” Unleashing his pent up desperation caused Tony’s voice to crack. His hand swung wide behind him to indicate the chokeberry tree. “He told them not to and they keep coming back to do it anyway! And they laughed about it because they knew it upset him. He’s real keen on this tree for some reason.”

“Your friend, Master Potts?” Jarvis asked.

Tony nodded. He huffed and tried to hide his emotion by chewing on his lip. There were little tears at the corners of his eyes. He was much more comfortable showing anger than any other emotion, even joy. Often he would mask his feelings with shouts, huffs, shoves, scowls, glares— or sarcasm and jokes, which Jarvis considered a “creative form of aggression.” Of course, if his father were around, he adopted a sullen disposition, or, at times, was an avatar of Howard Stark’s own persona. When Howard was away, his son became Tony again -- guarded, but more volatile. However, Jarvis had a talent for flaying the rage from the sadness or fear underneath.

“The other boys wish to carve it, you say?”

“Yes, you know, Jarvis, like their initials or something, like people do.”

“I see, sir,” Jarvis said and paused to think. He looked at the chokeberry tree; it was still a sapling, though nearly mature. The foamy white buds swayed in their clusters in the Northern wind.

Tony also turned and looked at the tree. “Samuel thinks the flowers look like lace. He’s kind of silly, but a good kid .”

Jarvis was slightly amused by Tony’s condescending use of the term “kid” when he was scarcely eleven years old himself. “A special tree indeed, sir. However, I couldn’t advise you to endeavor to stop them by force.”

Tony shuffled. Though he rolled his eyes, Jarvis felt respect in him, so he continued. “Or your fists for that matter.”

“We ought to put up a wall.” Tony muttered. “With barbed wire.”

“A creative solution, though, it would quite obstruct the view, wouldn’t you agree?” Jarvis deadpanned.

Tony sighed through his nose. “What about a trapping pit, then?”

Jarvis examined the grass stains on the knees of Tony’s trousers. “Better widen the scope of your innovation, Young Sir.” He replied absently while considering how he could clean the blood from the shirt and jacket so that Mrs. Stark wouldn’t notice. She kept strict inventory of her son’s wardrobe, particularly when they were abroad, as they were now.

Then, he remarked, catching Tony off guard, “I am pleased to see you’ve made such an important friend here, sir.”

Tony sniffed and shrugged. After a couple kicks at the ground beneath, he said: “Jarvis, I’m hungry. Is it luncheon yet?”

“You should just have time to bathe and make yourself presentable, sir.”

Jarvis led him back to the Starks’ Toronto estate by a covered path in the garden that was seldom used so no one would see the rough condition he was in.

January, 1903

When Peter threw open the front door of his and May’s house in Queens, Tony couldn’t help but notice the cotton scarf wrapped over his ears. “Mr. Stark! Come see how my latest test glaze turned out, sir!” He stepped quickly out of the way so Tony could enter and held out his arms to take his mentor’s coat, muffler, and hat. “I’ve decided to leave off on the layerings of celadon and copper red glazes and am trying some strike firing techniques with a different glaze mixture.”

Tony’s brow knotted in concern, but he remarked, lightly, “Interesting head adornment, Ms. Mozart. Do you have a toothache?”

Peter touched the thin cloth around his head. “Oh. No, May wants me to wear this to keep my ears warm.” He added, as though trying not to lie: “I’ve had an earache the past few days.”

“Small wonder!” Tony scolded. “I seem to recall you running around most of Christmas week in the icy wind with no hat. Probably blew all manner of viruses into your empty head!”

Peter looked at him unhappily. “But! I’m not contagious, the doctor says. I don’t even have a fever! Anymore.”

Failing to hide his amusement as Peter fell over himself verbally, Tony waited and said, “Easy Pete. No one’s planning to take you behind the barn and shoot you.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’ll get you sick, Mr. Stark.” Peter said. “I’ve been so looking forward to experimenting with you on peach bloom glaze. And, well…” A look of contrition contorted his face. As he began wringing his hands, Tony removed his coat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. It’s selfish of me.”

Tony hung his hat on the hook and then placed a hand on Peter’s head, tousling the scarf along with his curls. “You can’t run me off so easily, kid. I’m not worried over earaches.”

Peter grinned and led him through the hall and dining room, into the kitchen and to the scullery, his little ceramics alcove.

“Read me the recipe notes for this one,” Tony said. He tapped one of the five flat slats of clay arranged before him. The tiles reminded him of dominoes and he came to enjoy the plink clink sound when he handled them. On each was the same glaze mixture but each had undergone a variant firing schedule.

Peter hurriedly finished chewing a piece of sponge candy so he could complete the request. Tony had brought over a box of the candy as a treat while they worked. (“Pepper would like you to believe this is a present from her , but, as I am the one who brought it to you, and in this weather, I think the credit is due to me. So, you’re welcome.”)

Peter leafed through his small notebook. “For this test,” Peter read, “Gerstley Borate, 10.7%; Whiting, 10.7%; NC-4 Feldspar, 40.3%...” Tony nodded as he listened. He plucked the tile from the table and rubbed his thumb over it absently. Peter finished. “Then I added the tin oxide.”

“What percentage to the mixture?” Tony asked. He returned the tile and picked up his favorite. The freckling green, created by the high reduction period of the firing, spider-crawled through the patchy blush of peach. It truly bid his heart to rush at the beauty.

“.5% but I’m thinking of adding a higher percentage next test.”

Tony smiled and looked at him. “Why’s that?”

Peter was leaning eagerly toward him across the table, resting most of his weight on his elbows beneath him. Like a small animal, his eyes were round and animated as he piped: “More tin oxide will create a milkier effect on the glaze. Right?”

Proudly, Tony nodded. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

Peter seemed to realize that his mentor was pleased with him and he ducked his head, grinning. It was such an unrestrained expression of delight that Tony looked away. Peter had received so little guidance from his previous master that the kid was starved for feedback. Blessed now with more attention, Peter was accelerating in his pursuit of the craft.

Tucking away a surge of affection for the boy, Tony followed up, confirming, “That’s the effect your artistic little heart is set on, right?”

Peter chose another piece of sponge candy from the box. “Yes,” he said and Tony caught how that dreaminess he sometimes got began to cloud his eyes. “The glaze is meant to resemble a ripening peach, sir, with green mottles on a blushing pink.” Peter crunched the candy contemplatively then spread his fingers over his cheeks. “Well, I was very much hoping for a kind of baby’s cheeks look.”

“Baby’s cheeks?” Tony asked and he took some candy, too. “Is that a technical term? Or one of your isms?”

Peter blushed in answer. “Do you know what I mean, Mr. Stark?” He pantomimed a moment, to illustrate his words. “Have you ever held a baby close and looked at their cheeks?”

A slight twitch ran across Tony’s face, but he answered, unaffectedly, “Yes, kid, I have had occasion to see a human in infancy.”

Clicking his tongue, Peter replied, “That’s not what I meant, Mr. Stark.” He mined again, as though it would help. His nose nuzzled into the crook of his elbow. “Have you seen how a baby’s cheeks are so fair that their skin mottles when warm? And they get so rosy, sir?”

“Do they?” Tony said. He was trying to be patient with Peter’s reverie. Normally, he would sit back and enjoy the funny expression on the kid’s face and the rambling explanations for his thoughts that only made it more challenging to understand how his mind worked, but this was a tender subject for Tony.

He and Pepper were unable to have children, except through adoption. Pepper was anguished by the idea, though, so they never had. Instead, they supported and improved the orphanages and children’s homes of New York as well as they could, as benefactors.

“My friend, Ned— his mother had a baby a couple years back, with his step-father and she let me hold her— well, actually his mother had me and Ned hold her for a few hours while she cleaned and mended and took a nap and cooked… but, his sister was pretty as a picture, sir! Her cheeks would go dusky when she cried and they looked like red onions.” He laughed. “It wasn’t a nice sound she made, though.”

Tony regarded him with a gnarled expression. “You’re a rare one, kid. Not many find the inherent attractiveness of colic.”

“Will you and Mrs. Stark have a baby, Mr. Stark?”

Bucking a little, Tony reminded himself that this was a harmless question. Peter was silly-hearted and likely excited by the prospect of a child entering his life, even by some distant channel. Tony composed the ache in his chest. He sniffed and said, “Not likely. My lifestyle is not very conducive for raising a kid. Besides, I have my hands full as it is.”

Peter blinked. He said, “With what?” Innocence was plain on his face.

“With what?” Tony snorted indignantly.

“With me?” Peter asked, even more innocently.

Tony pushed out of his seat and marched across the floor. “Bonehead! I do have a life beyond you and your ceramics. I am a very busy inventor, businessman, and philanthropist. You may have heard.”

Peter stared at him, perplexed.

Tony turned back. His arms flapped at his sides as a segue. “Well, are we going to increase the amount of tin oxide or should I return to my heavily-booked agenda? I’m sure Pepper would not mind having me chained back in the office, if you have no more need of my time.”

“Yes, sir!” Peter said. He managed to hide his smile from his flustered mentor as he donned his apron.

[ars-simia-animus]

You’ll Rise Up, Free and Easy

This is the second story in my series Amphora, an alternate-reality historical fan fiction based on the characters Tony Stark and Peter Parker from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The characters’ personalities remain mostly intact, but I’ve inserted them into my own reality for them. The series is set at the turn of the 20th Century.

This story is considerably darker than the first; it follows Tony Stark’s difficult childhood. Please exercise safe reading-- the story is not meant to hurt anybody!

I’ve used this platform to purge some personal demons through the metaphor of child abuse. Keep yourself safe and feel free to read the next story in the series (at this time, it is unwritten) as it will not have that focus.

Story Summary: Peter Parker, a brilliantly talented ceramicist-in-training, has been Tony Stark's apprentice for ten days. To his delight, he's able to work closely with Tony and begins to learn more about him and bond with him. However, just as it seems that they are becoming an established part of each other's lives, tragedy puts distance between them.Peter strives to be a source of comfort and support for Tony during a season of grieving, adapting how he shows love to the ways Tony knows how to accept it.

Read the story after the break.

Chapter One: “Chokeberry and Baby Cheeks”

Early May, 1868

“Young Sir?” Jarvis peered around the trunk of a young chokeberry tree at the youth who was crouching in the knoll at its roots. He stepped around, keeping a gingerly distance for he could see that the boy was vulnerable, like a raw nerve.

Tony, blushing from exertion and violence, sat panting a few moments longer, ignoring Jarvis. He clutched at his right fist which was torn across the knuckles. Sweat was heavy on his face and neck and the smell, like well water, hung on him. There was blood peeking under his nose, a thin film across his teeth, as well as a cut on his left eyebrow.

Finally, Tony swallowed to force the remaining moisture evenly in his dry mouth and said, “Is Father going to be home tonight?”

Jarvis removed a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to him. “To my knowledge.” When Tony didn’t take the handkerchief, Jarvis pressed it under his nose himself. Tony resisted, but ceased struggling almost immediately. “Perhaps, though, when he arrives tonight, you’ll already be in bed, Young Sir.”

Tony looked up at him and said in a questioning way, as though expecting betrayal. “You’ll tell him.” Then he added, without waiting for an answer, “Damn British butlers and their sensibilities…” Tony took over the pressure on the handkerchief and Jarvis stood upright again.

Jarvis said sternly, “Let’s leave damnation to the clergy, shall we, sir? Unless you’re studying to become one?”

Tony scoffed then lowered his gaze deferentially.

Offering a hand, Jarvis said, “Strand up, please; crouching on the ground like a gopher is not dignified for a young man.” Jarvis noticed Tony roll his eyes as he obeyed; the butler stifled a smile. The boy pinched the handkerchief and removed it. Jarvis saw with relief that his nose was not bleeding anymore.

When Tony was standing before him, meeting his eyes, Jarvis leaned toward him confidentially. “As far as a British butler’s sensibilities are concerned, I am your father’s servant, not a spy. I have no inclination to report your behavior only for the sake of it.”

Tony listened, blinking at him passively.

Jarvis’s voice softened. “The only time I might do so is if I deem your actions would lead you to greater danger than you would receive at Master Stark’s hands. Are we at an understanding?”

At this Tony smirked and Jarvis nodded in a decisive manner. “Besides, any injurious behavior I witness from you, I shouldn’t wonder to think that we two could reach an understanding without need to concern your father.” He gave Tony a poignant look. “Do you agree, sir?”

This time Tony nodded but still smirked. He seemed to remember the times Jarvis could have handed him over to Howard, but didn’t. That was good enough for the boy to trust him. On those occasions, Jarvis would let him explain himself, rant, cry, and blame others, firmly correcting him if he was disrespectful, but otherwise allowing him to fully express his grievances. Then, he would speak to Tony solemnly but patiently, like he was a man.

“Now,” Jarvis said, shifting to a more curious tone, “might you inform me what foreign object collided with your face so as to leave you in such a state? Perhaps also, what response to the object you gave?”

Tony erupted. “I was trying to keep these boys from carving up my friend’s tree!” Unleashing his pent up desperation caused Tony’s voice to crack. His hand swung wide behind him to indicate the chokeberry tree. “He told them not to and they keep coming back to do it anyway! And they laughed about it because they knew it upset him. He’s real keen on this tree for some reason.”

“Your friend, Master Potts?” Jarvis asked.

Tony nodded. He huffed and tried to hide his emotion by chewing on his lip. There were little tears at the corners of his eyes. He was much more comfortable showing anger than any other emotion, even joy. Often he would mask his feelings with shouts, huffs, shoves, scowls, glares— or sarcasm and jokes, which Jarvis considered a “creative form of aggression.” Of course, if his father were around, he adopted a sullen disposition, or, at times, was an avatar of Howard Stark’s own persona. When Howard was away, his son became Tony again -- guarded, but more volatile. However, Jarvis had a talent for flaying the rage from the sadness or fear underneath.

“The other boys wish to carve it, you say?”

“Yes, you know, Jarvis, like their initials or something, like people do.”

“I see, sir,” Jarvis said and paused to think. He looked at the chokeberry tree; it was still a sapling, though nearly mature. The foamy white buds swayed in their clusters in the Northern wind.

Tony also turned and looked at the tree. “Samuel thinks the flowers look like lace. He’s kind of silly, but a good kid .”

Jarvis was slightly amused by Tony’s condescending use of the term “kid” when he was scarcely eleven years old himself. “A special tree indeed, sir. However, I couldn’t advise you to endeavor to stop them by force.”

Tony shuffled. Though he rolled his eyes, Jarvis felt respect in him, so he continued. “Or your fists for that matter.”

“We ought to put up a wall.” Tony muttered. “With barbed wire.”

“A creative solution, though, it would quite obstruct the view, wouldn’t you agree?” Jarvis deadpanned.

Tony sighed through his nose. “What about a trapping pit, then?”

Jarvis examined the grass stains on the knees of Tony’s trousers. “Better widen the scope of your innovation, Young Sir.” He replied absently while considering how he could clean the blood from the shirt and jacket so that Mrs. Stark wouldn’t notice. She kept strict inventory of her son’s wardrobe, particularly when they were abroad, as they were now.

Then, he remarked, catching Tony off guard, “I am pleased to see you’ve made such an important friend here, sir.”

Tony sniffed and shrugged. After a couple kicks at the ground beneath, he said: “Jarvis, I’m hungry. Is it luncheon yet?”

“You should just have time to bathe and make yourself presentable, sir.”

Jarvis led him back to the Starks’ Toronto estate by a covered path in the garden that was seldom used so no one would see the rough condition he was in.

January, 1903

When Peter threw open the front door of his and May’s house in Queens, Tony couldn’t help but notice the cotton scarf wrapped over his ears. “Mr. Stark! Come see how my latest test glaze turned out, sir!” He stepped quickly out of the way so Tony could enter and held out his arms to take his mentor’s coat, muffler, and hat. “I’ve decided to leave off on the layerings of celadon and copper red glazes and am trying some strike firing techniques with a different glaze mixture.”

Tony’s brow knotted in concern, but he remarked, lightly, “Interesting head adornment, Ms. Mozart. Do you have a toothache?”

Peter touched the thin cloth around his head. “Oh. No, May wants me to wear this to keep my ears warm.” He added, as though trying not to lie: “I’ve had an earache the past few days.”

“Small wonder!” Tony scolded. “I seem to recall you running around most of Christmas week in the icy wind with no hat. Probably blew all manner of viruses into your empty head!”

Peter looked at him unhappily. “But! I’m not contagious, the doctor says. I don’t even have a fever! Anymore.”

Failing to hide his amusement as Peter fell over himself verbally, Tony waited and said, “Easy Pete. No one’s planning to take you behind the barn and shoot you.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’ll get you sick, Mr. Stark.” Peter said. “I’ve been so looking forward to experimenting with you on peach bloom glaze. And, well…” A look of contrition contorted his face. As he began wringing his hands, Tony removed his coat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. It’s selfish of me.”

Tony hung his hat on the hook and then placed a hand on Peter’s head, tousling the scarf along with his curls. “You can’t run me off so easily, kid. I’m not worried over earaches.”

Peter grinned and led him through the hall and dining room, into the kitchen and to the scullery, his little ceramics alcove.

“Read me the recipe notes for this one,” Tony said. He tapped one of the five flat slats of clay arranged before him. The tiles reminded him of dominoes and he came to enjoy the plink clink sound when he handled them. On each was the same glaze mixture but each had undergone a variant firing schedule.

Peter hurriedly finished chewing a piece of sponge candy so he could complete the request. Tony had brought over a box of the candy as a treat while they worked. (“Pepper would like you to believe this is a present from her , but, as I am the one who brought it to you, and in this weather, I think the credit is due to me. So, you’re welcome.”)

Peter leafed through his small notebook. “For this test,” Peter read, “Gerstley Borate, 10.7%; Whiting, 10.7%; NC-4 Feldspar, 40.3%...” Tony nodded as he listened. He plucked the tile from the table and rubbed his thumb over it absently. Peter finished. “Then I added the tin oxide.”

“What percentage to the mixture?” Tony asked. He returned the tile and picked up his favorite. The freckling green, created by the high reduction period of the firing, spider-crawled through the patchy blush of peach. It truly bid his heart to rush at the beauty.

“.5% but I’m thinking of adding a higher percentage next test.”

Tony smiled and looked at him. “Why’s that?”

Peter was leaning eagerly toward him across the table, resting most of his weight on his elbows beneath him. Like a small animal, his eyes were round and animated as he piped: “More tin oxide will create a milkier effect on the glaze. Right?”

Proudly, Tony nodded. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

Peter seemed to realize that his mentor was pleased with him and he ducked his head, grinning. It was such an unrestrained expression of delight that Tony looked away. Peter had received so little guidance from his previous master that the kid was starved for feedback. Blessed now with more attention, Peter was accelerating in his pursuit of the craft.

Tucking away a surge of affection for the boy, Tony followed up, confirming, “That’s the effect your artistic little heart is set on, right?”

Peter chose another piece of sponge candy from the box. “Yes,” he said and Tony caught how that dreaminess he sometimes got began to cloud his eyes. “The glaze is meant to resemble a ripening peach, sir, with green mottles on a blushing pink.” Peter crunched the candy contemplatively then spread his fingers over his cheeks. “Well, I was very much hoping for a kind of baby’s cheeks look.”

“Baby’s cheeks?” Tony asked and he took some candy, too. “Is that a technical term? Or one of your isms?”

Peter blushed in answer. “Do you know what I mean, Mr. Stark?” He pantomimed a moment, to illustrate his words. “Have you ever held a baby close and looked at their cheeks?”

A slight twitch ran across Tony’s face, but he answered, unaffectedly, “Yes, kid, I have had occasion to see a human in infancy.”

Clicking his tongue, Peter replied, “That’s not what I meant, Mr. Stark.” He mined again, as though it would help. His nose nuzzled into the crook of his elbow. “Have you seen how a baby’s cheeks are so fair that their skin mottles when warm? And they get so rosy, sir?”

“Do they?” Tony said. He was trying to be patient with Peter’s reverie. Normally, he would sit back and enjoy the funny expression on the kid’s face and the rambling explanations for his thoughts that only made it more challenging to understand how his mind worked, but this was a tender subject for Tony.

He and Pepper were unable to have children, except through adoption. Pepper was anguished by the idea, though, so they never had. Instead, they supported and improved the orphanages and children’s homes of New York as well as they could, as benefactors.

“My friend, Ned— his mother had a baby a couple years back, with his step-father and she let me hold her— well, actually his mother had me and Ned hold her for a few hours while she cleaned and mended and took a nap and cooked… but, his sister was pretty as a picture, sir! Her cheeks would go dusky when she cried and they looked like red onions.” He laughed. “It wasn’t a nice sound she made, though.”

Tony regarded him with a gnarled expression. “You’re a rare one, kid. Not many find the inherent attractiveness of colic.”

“Will you and Mrs. Stark have a baby, Mr. Stark?”

Bucking a little, Tony reminded himself that this was a harmless question. Peter was silly-hearted and likely excited by the prospect of a child entering his life, even by some distant channel. Tony composed the ache in his chest. He sniffed and said, “Not likely. My lifestyle is not very conducive for raising a kid. Besides, I have my hands full as it is.”

Peter blinked. He said, “With what?” Innocence was plain on his face.

“With what?” Tony snorted indignantly.

“With me?” Peter asked, even more innocently.

Tony pushed out of his seat and marched across the floor. “Bonehead! I do have a life beyond you and your ceramics. I am a very busy inventor, businessman, and philanthropist. You may have heard.”

Peter stared at him, perplexed.

Tony turned back. His arms flapped at his sides as a segue. “Well, are we going to increase the amount of tin oxide or should I return to my heavily-booked agenda? I’m sure Pepper would not mind having me chained back in the office, if you have no more need of my time.”

“Yes, sir!” Peter said. He managed to hide his smile from his flustered mentor as he donned his apron.‪

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Can You Not?

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Jai Courtney/OFC (Roo) Warnings: Language Rating: PG13 Length: Short Story Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: I feel like I’ve mastered awkward Jai and Roo pretty well...You be the judge. Also: If anybody was looking to be added to a tag list, let me know :)

Read:  Try to be Everything & I’m a Walking Travesty

"Honey, you can put the phone down." Jai whispered in her ear, his hand guiding her toward their table in the semi-deserted restaurant.

"What if the babysitter needs us?" She couldn't believe Jai was being so casual about Denzi staying with a stranger.

Ariel, the barely twenty-something, babysitter that the agency had sent over was probably more than capable of handling Denzi, yet she couldn't help but feel a slight sense of panic. Silly, she was being silly. Jai had told her that the last twelve times she had checked her phone.

"They will be fine, we've used these agencies before, they're reputable and Ariel seems lovely. She came highly recommended, Denzi isn't her first rodeo." Jai chuckled in a low manner.

"I know," She pouted sliding her phone back into her clutch purse. "Do you think she'd call, if something is wrong? Maybe we should check in, before we sit?"

"No. She will call, or she faces a law suit she can't get out of." Her face fell into a pointed, agitated glare. "I'm teasing, lighten up. You need to get out and do something."

"I've been doing things." She protested, halting when Jai stopped pushing her forward.

"I thought you could use a break." Jai smiled, pulling her chair out. "I know you love the joey, but I think the two of you needed some time apart."

"Thank you." Her voice was quiet, as she sat, a little taken back by his gesture to push her chair in. Such acts were reserved for formal events, when they were at risk of being scrutinized for their class. Not that she was complaining.

"How was your day?" Jai asked, taking the seat placed next to her at the small round table.

Diverting from anything Denzi was good. Leaving his son with a stranger was difficult, there was no sense in the two of them getting anxious. Besides, he had a plan in place for his assistant to pop in and randomly look for some papers. Everything would be fine. Her stress was, in an odd way, endearing. Jai loved that she cared so much for Denzi.

"It was a day." She shrugged. Denzi had given Jai all of the major details, while they were catching up earlier in the evening. "We did some shopping and went to a park. I talked with my mom for a bit this morning."

"Your mum? How is Cora?" Jai was taken back by the admission.

He had heard that Cora and her daughter were on speaking terms, a small victory, but he hadn't asked to what capacity.

Smoothing her hands over the top of her legs, she took note of how the material of her trousers felt under her finger tips. "She's good, I had to call her for some...uh, I needed to ask a favour. I didn't talk long."

Jai nodded, seeming to understand that she wasn't up for discussing, in details, the talk she'd had with her mother. She had every right to her privacy and if she felt Jai needed to know the details, she would have offered.

The nature of her call had been...sensitive? Sensitive seemed to be the best word to describe the conversation. It had made her happy to see Denzi so excited to talk with Cora, even if he hadn't stayed long. When she had logged on to make the call, her nerves had been on high alert. Her palms sweaty and her mouth dry, not typical characteristics of a conversation with her easy going mother.

"Hi, mom." She spoke, as Cora appeared on the screen. Checking the time, it was a little after 10:30AM, which meant it was shortly after 8PM in Boston.

"Cora!" Denzi shouted happily at the laptop screen. "Hi, Cora! Dess what! Dess! We're in A'traya!"

"You are? No way!" Cora replied laughing at the enthusiasm coming from the little boy on the other end of the conversation. "Are you having fun with your dad?"

"Uhuh!" Denzi nodded excitedly. Picking at the front of his shirt, he looked at the screen, waving. "I have ta go and get my snack. Wub you, Cora!"

"Love you, too." Cora replied, blowing a kiss as the little boy darted away from the screen giving way to her daughter's face. "So, BoC, how goes Adelaide?"

"Uh, it's going." She shifted on the bed where she had the laptop propped up on her knees. "Jai's busy, which is good. Denzi is having a ton of fun."

"And you?" Cora raised her brow. "What about you?"

"It's...a little awkward, but not bad." She shrugged with her confession. Her attention wavered as Denzi appeared carrying his container of sliced bananas and Vegemite. Reminding him not to get the sticky brown spread on the carpet, she turned her attention to the laptop and her mother. "How are things there? Richie feeling better?"

Scoffing, Cora rolled her eyes. "Please, you'd swear he was on his death bed. You know how men are, when they get a cold."

She nodded, not saying anything, which was fine. Cora picked up the slack talking about how she and Richie had hosted Miles, the previous evening, for a long overdue home cooked meal. The poor boy, Cora cooed, was as thin as a rake and needed to eat more. Listening, she smiled politely reminding herself to thank Miles.

As much as he drove her crazy, he had a good heart and it was thanks to him she and Cora had began talking, again.

"Plans for today? Cora changed the subject.

"We are going to hit some shops, maybe a park, then back here and dinner tonight with Jai." She explained, eyeing Denzi out of the corner of her eye. He was on the floor, bananas and Vegemite lost to the game on his LeapPad. In the background, she could hear the animated voice congratulate the little boy for finding the right word. "I can't talk long, but I need you to do me a favour."

"What's that, sweetheart?"

"That therapist that was suggested, when Dad was sick, is she still in practice? Or do you remember her name?" She shifted uneasily on the bed, her attention darting to Denzi for a brief moment.

"Wendy Todd." Cora's straight face hid any emotion very well. "I believe so, I can find her contact information and forward it to you. Would that be okay?"

"Uh yeah, sure." She nodded half distracted. "Thanks, mom. I hate to cut this short, but we have a lot to do today."

When the time was right, she'd fill Jai in.

"How did work go?"

"I was stuck in a trailer for 10 hours, they didn't get through as much as they thought, which is why I was early." Jai answered, cutting off to speak to the waiter about the bottles of wine they had available.

"So, tomorrow will be long, then?" She asked, once the waiter had agreed to bring them a bottle of chardonnay. The filming process could be long, until the film makers found the exact shots they wanted. Jai had a slack day today, but come tomorrow she may not see him at all.

"Probably. If I'm held up tomorrow, I've arranged for you and the joey to do some sight seeing. If you wanted."

"Oh, we were thinking of doing the zoo tomorrow. They have a marsupial exhibit and Denzi was pretty excited for it. Of course, we don't mind extra company if you had someone." Her reply was polite and to the point. It was thoughtful of Jai to schedule some activities for her and Denzi, mainly Denzi, during their visit. "Or we can do the zoo the next day."

"Naw, no." Jai flicked his hand, dismissing the idea. "The zoo is a far better idea, I think he'd like that more."

"Well, you can be sure he'll tell you all about it." She offered, her eyes sinking down to the menu that had been left in front of her.

"I've got Sunday free. I may take him, for the day and do something. If you wanted to sleep in or find something to do." Jai passed the information, barely skimming the menu. He had checked out the entrees online and had already made up his mind. A hunch told him that he could practically pin point her dinner, as well.

"He'll love that. I'm sure the two of you will have fun." She scanned the menu once more, absentmindedly tapping her finger against the Kingfish.

Falling into a silence, Jai tapped his fingers silently on the table top. What did he say? Small talk seemed to have dried up almost immediately. Heavy in silence, she wanted to scream in frustration. She wanted to ask Jai what the end game to this was?

They could have stayed at the house and ignored one another. At the house they had Denzi, while he could sense tension, the little boy did a great job at keeping the adults engaged.

From the outside, this most likely looked like the world's worst first date. In no way did they feel like two long time, best friends.

"So." She pulled her gaze out of space, glancing at Jai.

"So?" Jai placed his water glass down.

"So..."

"So."

"Right." Her head fell forward in a quick nod.

"Right, then."

Sitting in silence for a few more minutes, Jai flicked his gaze around the dinning room. There wasn't anything overly exciting to see. She swept the room, her glances gazing Jai. His eyes were trained on her, whether he was focusing on her or lost in space, she wasn't entirely sure. Licking his lips, Jai sighed quietly.

"You look nice, Roo." Jai pulled the compliment out of thin air.

"Thank you. You look good as well." She returned the compliment, wanting to kiss the waiter when she saw him coming their way.

Placing orders and thanking the waiter for the bottle of wine, she tried her hardest to think of something, anything to say. Jai sat quietly, pretending to read the wine label, which wasn't fooling her in the least. Jai Courtney knew very little about wine, it was a proven fact.

His brow creased, highlighting a few wrinkles in his forehead, along with a tiny batch around his eyes. Wrinkles she had never noticed before, if they had ever been there before. Clean shaven, not even a hint of stubble growing on his jaw line, Jai looked the same as he always had, yet the man in front of her felt like a stranger.

Half past eight, the restaurant was slowly gathering attention. A few more diners here and there were filling tables around the room. Trying not to be obvious, she skimmed over the faces of those surrounding her. Jai seemed to be in his own world, not taking notice of the new patrons.

Desperately, he wanted to reach under the table and take her hand. Such a high school romance thing to do, never the less he wanted to touch her, feel her smaller hand in his. Jai liked the way her fingers felt around his. He liked the way she fit against him, in every form.

Hands rubbing together, he opted to let go of the idea to hold her hand.

Dinner couldn't have come at a better time, once again she wanted to kiss the waiter for his timing. This man knew when she needed the interruption, bless him. Food made it easier to ignore one another, mumbling compliments here and there about their dinner. She was content to eat and not talk.

"Do you have any plans for the summer?" Fuck Jai and his questions, did he not know she was happier silent?

"Once you get back? I suspect I'll go back to working full time, I may take a trip east to see mom." She answered politely.

"When I get back home, are you going to stay or go back to the apartment?" Jai asked, his glass resting against his lips.

Really? Now? This is what he wanted to talk about? Here?

Swallowing the mouthful of wine, she licked her lips, placing her glass down on the table. "I'm not sure. Can we not discuss this, not tonight?"

"You'd be welcome to come back." Jai replied, tipping his glass of wine to take a drink.

"I know, but I think that discussion is best put off. For now. You're here to work and I'm here because your son can't travel alone. Let's enjoy the time, hmm?" She deferred the question.

Temporarily moving back into Jai's had been a blessing, in some ways. In others it had been a curse. She loved the house and being there never failed to make her feel at home. On the other hand, living with the large Australian who owned the house had been a disaster. Seeking shelter where she could had been a task, giving thanks to Miles for allowing her to occupy his couch for a bit, funny how all of her friends seemed to have other things on the go during that time.

Whatever, it was what it was.

If and when she moved back in, this time would be different. There would be no rushing, no jumping ship when things got tough, and she'd damn well make sure it was where she wanted to be.

"Thank you for this evening's...." She paused. This was her shutting down the topic of where she lived and why. Sitting straighter in her chair, she narrowed her gaze, her eyes locked with Jai's almost daring him to go back to the previous topic.

"It is what you want it to be, Roo." Jai was to the point. "Mates having dinner, a date, two people eating and talking. Whatever your heart desires."

Pursing her lips, her face slowly softened into a smile. "It was nice, I appreciate it, really."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Jai mirrored her smile. "I've missed us doing things, it was nice." Glancing at his watch, he pushed his hand through his hair. "If I don't see you tomorrow, I want you and Denzi to enjoy your day. Have fun, relax, just enjoy."

"I'm sure we will." She countered, as casually as she could manage.

"I uh, I'm glad you're here, Roo."

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch59: We Only Part To Meet Again

Intro: The team hold a memorial for Natasha.

Warnings: “Language!” Angst

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: I’m STILL salty that Nat didn’t get a proper send off in Endgame so I hope I’ve done her justice in this one. We’re so near the end now… *cries*

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 58

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Steve and Katie decided not to tell anyone about their news until both Natasha’s remembrance ceremony and Tony’s funerals were done. For no reason other than they didn’t want any of the attention being placed on them to detract from what the days were about- their friends and family taking time to remember together.  In all fairness, it wasn’t too long time to have to wait.  The only problem however, was that whilst it might have been easy to fool the kids, it was a little less easy to fool Bucky and Sam, especially when the morning of Nat’s memorial, Katie pushed Bucky and Sam out of the way as she ran from the kitchen and emptied her stomach into the downstairs toilet.

“She okay?” Bucky asked looking at Steve as he grabbed a bottle of water for her from the fridge.

“Just nerves, about the memorial.” Steve brushed off Bucky’s concern, and before he could be asked any further questions, he headed out into the hallway just as Katie was emerging from the bathroom. Wordlessly he handed her the bottle and gently cupped her cheek in his hand, and she smiled softly leaning into his touch.

“You were puking the last time we were on a jet together you know.” Sam quipped as they walked back into the kitchen  “Maybe that says something about your flying.” Katie shot back at him, sitting down at the table.

“Nah ah, you’d eaten that dodgy chicken remember?”

Katie nodded and then Bucky gave a scoff.

“You know, you’re almost convincing.” He pointed at her. “You on the other hand,” his point moved to Steve who had reached to open the fridge, pausing as he was caught in his friend’s stare, “still can’t lie for shit. It’s written all over your face.” Katie and Steve exchanged a glance before they looked back to the two men who were both leaning against the counter, mugs of coffee in their hands.

“What’s he lying about?” Sam frowned, looking at Bucky. Bucky simply gave him an exasperated glance.

“Let’s just say it’s more likely to be dodgy sausage than chicken.”

“Buck!” Steve frowned as Katie glared at his best friend. Sam’s face rearranged itself into a look of comprehension and he turned to look at Katie.

“Really?” His eyes flickered from her to Steve. Before they could deny it, Jamie walked into the kitchen with Lucky, the pair of them having been in the garden with Emmy.

“When do we go see Auntie Nat-Nat’s tree?”

“Soon” Steve turned to his son noticing instantly his son’s shoes were filthy. “Do not move a single step more, pal.”

Jamie stood and saluted at his father, the way Tony had taught him to do whenever he was given an order and Katie snorted a laugh. With a roll of his eyes Steve bent down and undid the laces on his sneakers. Jamie kicked them off and ran over to his momma.

“Can I wear my Captain ‘Merica top Auntie Nat-Nat got me?” He asked.

“You can wear what you want today, baby.” Katie kissed his head. At that she looked around. “Absolutely no black.”

“Kinda ironic really seeing as she spent half her life being called Black Widow.” Sam mused.

“Exactly.” Katie nodded. “Today there is no black widow, only Natasha Romanoff.”

At that point Emmy stepped inside holding a ceramic pot which now contained a tulip plant she had dug up from her patch near the shed. “Will this be okay, you know, to plant under her tree?” “I think it’s perfect.” Katie smiled, standing up with Jamie in her arms. “And so would she. She liked tulips. Right young man,” she blew a raspberry on her son’s cheek and he grinned, “shower time.” “Want me to do it?” Steve asked.

“No, I’ll take him. You can deal with these two idiots.” She nodded towards Sam and Bucky. She glanced back at Steve and gave him a soft smile. “Emmy, you need to get ready too, honey.”

Steve watched as his family left the kitchen before he turned to look at Bucky. “You are a pain in my ass, you know that?” “Tell me I’m wrong.” Bucky raised an eyebrow as Steve ran his hands over his face. He looked at his friend and then couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face.

“Yeah, she’s, we’re pregnant.”

“Fucking hell, punk!” Bucky moved to give the man a hug “That’s great news.”

“Thanks Buck.” Steve grinned, pulling back.

“Yeah nice one, Cap.” Sam beamed, shaking his hand.

“Thanks, but we’re keeping it on the low for the time being. We don’t wanna tell anyone till after Tony’s funeral, it just doesn’t feel right you know.”

Both men made affirmative nods and hand gestures, before Sam looked at Steve.

“How far along?”

Steve hesitated. “Well, we don’t know. It’s kinda complicated.”

“Complicated?” Bucky frowned “What’s complicated about it?”

“We lost one in the snap.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “We didn’t even think about it being a possibility, ya know, that it would come back, and we didn’t know Katie was pregnant back then until after. We’ve got a dating scan tomorrow so we’ll know for sure then.”

“So that time when we were on the low, and she thought she was sick…” Sam frowned, “she he was actually pregnant?”

Steve nodded.

“Not bad chicken?”

Steve shook his head.              

“Dude you knocked up your Mrs whilst we were running from the Feds?”  Sam’s eyes widened and Steve let out a sigh.

“It wasn’t exactly planned, Sam.” He rolled his eyes.

**** Steve watched his wife for a moment as she sat on the seat opposite him on the private Stark Jet, scribbling on a piece of paper. She was scribing notes for Tony’s Eulogy and her brow was furrowed as she jotted her ideas down, stopping every so often to wipe a stray tear away from her eyes. He leaned over to tuck her hair behind her ear whilst asking if she needed anything and she shook her head, tapping the pen lightly against her teeth. He dropped his hand to her neck, gently squeezed in a sign of affection and stood up to go and check if Bucky need rescuing from Jamie’s incessant chattering.

“You know it doesn’t seem right, any of this.” Katie spoke quietly, as she looked out of the window. Steve watched her for a second before he sat back down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the small table between them. She turned back to him and sighed. “The world is mourning for Tony, yet the same people who are leaving candles and wreathes and flowers outside the tower don’t seem to give a shit about Natasha. She’s not been mentioned once in the media since the President’s address.” “Sadly, I’m not surprised.” Steve sighed “After we took down SHIELD and all her past secrets were thrown into the spotlight and, well, you know her history. It wasn’t well received. People made assumptions about her, questioned her loyalties, wrongly yes, but they did.” “It’s not fair.” Katie sniffed.

“You’re right, it’s not. It’s unfair and it’s cruel.” Steve nodded, gently reaching out for Katie’s hand. “She gave her life because she believed so firmly that we could succeed and she’s being given no recognition at all. But that’s what today is about. Those of us that did know her, and did care about her, getting the chance to say goodbye properly.”

Katie smiled sadly, her fingers tangling in Steve’s as their hands lay entwined on the table

“And I think she would prefer it this way.” He continued “She was a very private person, unless she was around her friends, her family after all.”

“Yeah.” Katie said, smiling gently. “Maybe you’re right.”

There was a loud yell from the other side of the jet and they both looked over to see Bucky giving Jamie a hi-five as Sam and Emmy leant back in their chairs, throwing their Uno cards onto the table in defeat.  Bucky looked up and caught Steve’s eye, flashing him a small wink.

It wasn’t long before they were landing. Katie felt ridiculously queasy as the jet began to descend and no sooner was she on the concrete of the runway than she threw up to the side of the steps. Emmy gave her a suspicious look, but didn’t say anything as she made her way, her hand around Jamie’s, as they followed Sam and Bucky to the waiting cars, Steve patiently hanging back for his wife to compose herself before they set off on the 30 minute or so drive to Clint’s farm.

There were hugs, hand-shakes and a few tears as the group greeted each other. Banner and Wanda had already arrived before the Rogers-Barnes-Wilson clan did, and it wasn’t long until Fury and Hill walked into the large farmhouse. An hour or so later, Okoye and T’Challa landed shortly followed by Rocket, Nebula and Thor. And finally Lang, Rhodey, Pepper, Happy and Morgan.  As Katie looked round as her niece shot over to hug her ‘Uncle Spangles’, she suddenly felt a warmth in her chest that where was still so much love in and amongst the grief.

They had an hour or so at the house, Jamie and Nathaniel instantly hitting it off and retreating to Nate’s room, emerging thirty minutes later each with a picture for their Auntie Nat. Katie had crouched down next to her son as he had showed her the picture of the woman with the shock of red hair holding a bar of chocolate because “she always gave me chocolate, Momma.”

“Yeah, yeah she did.” Katie smiled, kissing his cheek.

In the mid-afternoon sun, Clint and Laura, with their three kids, led the way down a worn path which led to a small pond not far from the line of trees that surrounded the farm. Clint explained that Natasha liked it here, she often came to visit and stay if there was a little too much going on in her life to cope with and this was her place which was why the tree was planted here. The tree was roughly six feet high at the moment but was already sporting the deep red leaves they had picked it for, and they all knew that over time it would grow and expand. There was a small wooden bench underneath it, with a brass plaque which sported Natasha’s Black Widow symbol, and they had also ordered a small head stone, but that would not be available for a while.

“It’s beautiful Clint.” Katie nodded, her hand falling to the place just underneath her throat and above her chest. “It really is.” “So,” Clint rubbed his neck, clearing his throat. “I thought, those of us that wanted to could just say a few words and,” he looked around and gave a watery smile as he took in the crowd of people, “you know, seeing you all here reminds me of how Nat came into my life. No friends, no family, no connections, and absolutely no desire to change any of that.” “You got that right.” Fury muttered, drawing a few smiles and soft laughs, including a chuckle from Clint.

“Yet here she is, being celebrated and remembered by all of you, all of us, the people whose lives she’s touched and impacted and I guess, well, she did change it after all.”

Steve gave the archer a smile as he turned to look at the tree, his head bowing slightly “Nat, your last name might have been Romanoff but you’ve been part of the Barton family for as long as we can remember. I watched you break free from the horrors of your youth and learn that life didn’t have to always be painful and cruel. You worked tirelessly to build yourself up and always strived to be a better person. I hope you know that,” he paused and looked upwards, taking a deep shaky breath, “you were worthy of being loved. And we did, we loved you so much, still do. Me, Laura, Coops, Lila and Nate.  If it wasn’t for you my family wouldn’t be here, but whilst my heart may have pieced itself back together thanks to them coming home, there’s still a huge hole there where you used to be. And I know that Nate only met you briefly, but he’s gonna know…he’s gonna know all about the woman he’s named after, the bravest woman I have ever known.” He reached out and wiped at his face before his hand gently touched the bark of the tree trunk. “Goodbye, Nat.” At that point Laura stepped forward, her own tears trickling down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms round her husband, their kids all following before Nathanial turned and placed the piece of paper he was holding on the bench, Clint helping him tack it to the back part with a small pin before the stepped back into the crowd.

Almost everyone spoke. Fury and Hill went next, explaining how they had been there from the beginning and watched her as she had transformed from this lethal, master assassin into an Avenger, a leader. And whilst he may not have been so warm to her in the beginning, Fury had come to look at her as a protégée, the person who after Hill and Coulson he trusted the most. And Hill, who had become a friend, one of the first people to join Natasha’s slowly expanding group of confidents in the beginning. Natasha had exceeded any expectations they had of her as a colleague and had been a fiercely loyal friend until the end.

Okoye, Nebula, Rocket, who had only known Nat really for a short time, all respected the woman who was broken and shattered but never gave up wanting to make the world a better place and continually strived to find a way to fix what Thanos had done. They had all forged a friendship with Natasha as they picked up the pieces of a shattered world and strived to keep people safe through the chaos that ensured post snap.

T’Challa, who had seen the fierce loyalty and drive that Natasha possessed first hand, gave a moving short speech, commending her for her courage. “Even if that did mean she knocked me out with a hell of a sting.” He quipped, drawing chuckles from the group. “Her tenacity on the battle field in Wakanda, her strive to protect not only her friends, but billions of strangers, at all costs. An honourable trait.”

Lang, who again hadn’t known her wrong but had found an ally instantly willing to work on his ludicrous Time Heist idea, without whom, “I doubt anyone would have taken me seriously, including Steve” nodded around, and Steve gave him a small smile and a shrug because it was true.  

Bucky, who had tried to kill Natasha on more than one occasion, but could empathise with what she had been through more than most, simply placed his metal hand on the bark of the tree and said something in Russian, which he later explained to Steve and Katie had been a simple thank you and goodbye, not being able to think of anything else to say.

Rhodey who had know Nat as long as Katie had, spoke about how he had watched as she stepped up post the snap, helping Steve lead what was left of their group as they tried to help who was left and “bring peace to a world that was in turmoil”.

Pepper who had also known her as long as Katie had, thanks to her infiltration of Stark Industries spoke about how she’d become a good friend over the years, sharing a “mutual annoyance at Tony’s ridiculous antics” and with Katie and later Wanda the women had joined forces in an otherwise male and testosterone swamped Avengers Tower or Compound.

Wanda and Sam, who had both spent years on the run alongside her. She had helped train them both, fought alongside them both, and saved both their lives more times than they cared to remember. They respected her, and counted her amongst their closest friends.

Thor, he trusted her, infinitely, watching her hold her own against opponents both bigger and stronger on many an occasion. She had never once judged him for the sins of his brother, and with a large clap of lightning he had declared her the “most noble and worthy warrior, one of the greatest I have ever seen”

Bruce, who had trusted her more than he had ever trusted anyone was up next, and he took a moment to gather his own thoughts, before he spoke simply and succinctly, but no less emotionally. “There’s a reason that lullaby never worked for anyone else, Nat, and whilst we never got the chance to explore the feelings we had for one another, I loved you. More than as a friend, and want you to know that my time away for those two years I was stuck as the hulk was not your fault, despite what you thought.”

And then, it was Steve’s turn. The soldier cleared his throat, his hand firmly grasped around Katie’s as they both stepped forward, their kids at their side. His chest was horribly tight as he took a deep breath and began to speak. “Clint’s right Nat, you were a pain in the ass. Specifically my ass for years. Constantly laughing at me for being old fashioned, trying to fix me up on dates until you realised that the person I wanted to be with just happened to be one of your best friends, which then opened up a whole other world of opportunity for your sarcasm and wind ups. You were one of the bravest, kindest people I have ever fought alongside, and we both knew that when we made you godmother to Jamie you’d guide him in the best way you could, even if you did take him for the day and fill him with enough e-numbers to make him bounce of the walls when you returned him.”

He sniffed slightly and Katie lay her head against his shoulder, fighting her own tears. “People often pointed to me as the leader of the Avengers, but I wasn’t. Not really. You were the one that held us all together on more than one occasion, especially when me and Tony were ready to rip each other’s heads off. Your ability to see the best in people is something I can only hope to emulate, and we’re going to miss you. We all are. More than you will ever know.” At that point, his voice cracked and Katie could see he was close to breaking, just as Clint had done.

“Emmy, Jamie why don’t you put your picture and your plant on the bench?” She encouraged gently, “Clint, can you?”

Clint nodded and stepped forward with them both as she took the opportunity to wrap her arms around Steve, pulling him in close.

“I drawed this for you.” She heard Jamie say as Clint helped him tack his photo next to Nathaniel’s before he promised Emmy he would plant the tulips in the ground once her headstone was there.

A silence fell before Katie stepped back and looked up at Steve who gave her a nod to assure her he was okay. Then, realising it was her turn she turned to the tree and looked at the shock of red leaves, smiling softly.

“There’s nothing I can say that hasn’t already been said.” Katie smiled gently “You were an amazing person, inside and out. I’ll never forget how you helped me pick an outfit for my first date with Steve and calmed me down despite the nerves that were flooding my entire system.”

“You never told me that.” Steve frowned, causing the crowd around them to laugh.

“Oh it’s true.” Katie nodded with a smile before she turned back to the tree. “All the ribbings and joking you would do, trying to get the ‘inside details’ as you called them on Captain America, but that’s what friends do right? And we were friends, best friends. I knew I wanted to be your friend the first time I met you when you were undercover in Stark Industries and your floored Happy after Tony insisted you ‘go a few rounds’”

“Thanks, Kiddo.” Happy grumbled, drawing more chuckles.

“You helped us so much when Jamie was a baby, taking him when you could see things were getting too much for me as a new mum, telling me that it was normal to feel a little overwhelmed when I simply thought I was doing a bad job. We couldn’t have done it without you and there’s no better friend I could have had by my side through everything we’ve been through together and done over the past thirteen years.”

Katie looked up at the sky, her tears falling now. “You know, on the jet on the way over me and Steve talked about how cruel it was that you’re not getting the recognition for your part in bringing everyone back that you deserve, but then I see everyone here and,” she choked a little on her words and felt Steve’s arm slide around her waist, “you know, it might not be a public mourning but this, this is the evidence that you were loved, and the people that mattered care and will always care and be thankful that you gave your life so that everyone who’s here could live theirs.  You were so loved Nat, you always will be, and I can only hope you knew and felt that.”

With that her tears began to fall thickly and she turned to Steve, his arms wrapping around her, his large, strong but ever so gently hands held her close to him, one on the base of her back, the other on her head.

There was a soft breeze which ruffled the leaves of the trees in the otherwise completely calm clearing they were in and no one spoke for a moment, until Clint stated that there were drinks and food waiting at the house. With a last glance over her shoulder at Nat’s tree, Katie allowed Steve to guide her down the path, every so often pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

With drinks and full plates, the guests spilled out into grounds of the Barton farm as animated chat began on and around the porch. Katie stuck to apple juice topped up with lemonade in a wine glass, and when Steve had subtly arched an eyebrow in question at the fact she was drinking she’d flicked him off and shook her head gently causing him to snigger a little.

“So,” Pepper sidled up to her, looking at her, “when are you due?”

“What?” Katie asked, a little too quickly.“I don’t know what you’re-.”

“I know that’s not wine.” Pepper gently cut her off. “And I know that you lost a baby in the snap. Maybe I’m putting two and two together here, but…”

Katie sighed and looked at her sister-in-law. “We only found out the other day. We didn’t wanna say anything, not until the memorials and funerals are over. It doesn’t feel right, to be happy about it all. Even though I can’t help it.” “Are you kidding me?” Pepper smiled “Katie, its great news. Something positive to look forward to.”

“Literally” Katie mumbled causing Pepper to grin.

“I knew it!” Emmy’s voice spluttered and Katie groaned and turned to face her. “The baby, it came back?”

“Shhhh” Katie hurriedly quieted her. “We haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because we don’t know how far along we are or,” Katie pinched the bridge of her nose. “just not yet Emmy okay? And this isn’t how we wanted you to find out. We were gonna tell you tomorrow after the scan.”

Emmy cocked her head to one side and shrugged, draining the glass of ice tea she was holding before she smiled and wrapped her arms round her mother, the sixteen year old now being almost as tall as she was. “I think it’s great.” Katie smiled and lay her head against her daughters, squeezing her back. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

***** Katie was exhausted after the day’s events and so, once the kids were settled she left the men drinking in the kitchen and headed for a bath.  Steve and Bucky had been drinking the Asgardian stuff all afternoon thanks to Thor bringing a load with him to Clint’s and both the soldiers had been feeling the effects before they headed home, and still were thanks to the stash Steve had in the cabinet and beer fridge.

“You know,” Sam leaned back in his chair, “when you find out how far gone Katie is tomorrow, we’re gonna be able to figure out a point of conception.” “Yeah that’s generally how it works.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Well you better not have made that baby on my plane.”

“We never had sex on the jet.” Steve sighed.

“No, just dirty old warehouses in the middle of a mission.” Sam shot back.

“Did you have to bring that up?” Steve said exasperatedly.

“Oh now this I gotta hear.” Bucky grinned and turned to look at Sam.

“They left their coms on.” Sam mumbled “Trust me you don’t gotta…”

Bucky gave a loud bark of a laugh as Steve groaned.

“We just got caught up and…” He suddenly stopped, deciding he didn’t have to explain himself. Why the fuck should he? “You know what, I don’t care, have you seen her? I’d bang her every second of the day if I could, she’s fucking gorgeous.”

“Aww thanks baby, but five times in one night was quite enough thanks.” Katie said and all three men whipped round to face her as she quirked an eyebrow smirking, leaning in the doorway dressed as usual in a pair of shorts and one of his shirts. “It was one hell of a wedding night.”

“Five times?” Sam looked at Steve who flushed bright red, but couldn’t help but feel slightly smug.

“And that’s how many times we did it.” She continued as she walked to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, turning to wink at Steve “Not how many times he made me see stars.”

Sam gave a loud laugh as Bucky grinned, a dirty snigger escaping from his mouth.

“I think I liked it better when you hated each other.” Steve said, glaring at them.

“Aww they picking on you baby?” Katie slid her arms round his neck from behind. He nodded, his hands rubbing over her forearms as they locked at the front of his chest.

“Big time.” He pouted.

“Come to bed and I’ll make it better.” She whispered into his ear and he turned as she straightened up and headed back out of the room. “Night boys.”

There was a pause as Steve looked at Bucky who was chuckling to himself, clearly having overheard.

“I’m gonna,” Steve watched Katie leave, and with that he drained his beer, stood up and headed after her.

Bucky eyed the bottle of alcohol in his hand before he turned to Sam. “Wanna go for a walk, find a bar? I’m in the mood for exploring my old neighbourhood a little.”

“Damned straight.” Sam nodded, standing up “The night is young Frosty. Unlike you.”

“Fuck off.” Bucky shot back, grabbing his jacket and smiling as he felt the leather in his flesh hand.

“Buck, you got a sec?” Katie asked, just before they were about to leave for the airfield.

Bucky paused and looked at Steve who simply gave him a smile. “She’s got something for you.” he said, ushering the kids down the hall with easy commands and large hands.

Bucky made his way into the living room and his mouth turned into a smile as Katie held out his leather jacket, the one he had wrapped her in when he pulled her from the Hydra base in La Ronde what felt like a life time ago.

“I believe this is yours.”

“You kept it?” he said gently.

“Of course I did. I just never had chance to give it you back until now.”

He took it from her, gently running his hand over the collar.

“I also never got chance to thank you for that day, what you did.”

“Anyone would have done the same.” Bucky shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck in an action that reminded her very much of Steve.

“You sure?” Katie gave him a soft smile. “You headed deep into a base full of people who had once hurt you because someone was screaming for help. Someone, and you had no idea it was me. And even if you did, you didn’t know me. Not really.”

“No, but I knew what those bastards were capable of.” Bucky eyed her gently. “I wouldn’t ever leave anyone to suffer at their hands. I just wish I’d gotten there sooner.”

“Did Steve tell you what they did?” She asked gently.

“He doesn’t need to.” Bucky looked down.“Like I said, I know what they’re, what they were capable of.” “You’re a good man James Barnes.” She gave him a soft smile and then stepped forward to give him a hug. “You saved my life. And for that I’ll always be grateful, and so will Steve.”

Bucky smiled slightly as she slipped on the jacket and headed after Sam as they gently left the house, the door closing behind them.

*****

Upstairs, Steve’s hands were already all over his wife, gentle, strong, loving as he softly caressed her stomach, the place his baby was growing. He nuzzled into her neck as she preened at his touch, arching her back. She moved slightly so he could pull the shirt over her head before he gently took her face in his hands, thumbs skating over her cheekbones.

“I hope it’s a girl,” he whispered gently, dropping a kiss to her lips, “and she looks just like her momma.”

“Charmer.” She grinned as he kissed her again, the kiss growing urgent, Steve flicking his tongue over his wife’s lips before he moved to gently trail his mouth down her neck to the spot in between her collar bone, giving it a gentle nip and a suck. It was a well-practiced dance between the pair of them. After ten years of being with one another they both knew the spots to hit, the places to touch, the parts to tease that would undo the other. It was a familiarity, but one that would never get old. Steve would never tire of the way her finger tips trailed down his back, nails gently biting his skin as she made those delectable noises by his ear. Katie would never tire of the way Steve would softly trail every curve of her body, his hands and strong arms cradling her as he lavished affection on her that drove into her very soul, his mouth gently nipping at her neck, his gentle praises that made her keen with affection.

“I love you baby girl, you’re so good to me, so good.” The soft sheets of the bed rustled around them as Steve gently rocked into his wife, causing her to sigh and lay her head back, gazing up at him with a love and lust so deep it almost hurt him to see. He had never been worthy of this love, and never would be. But all he could do was love her back, the way he did, with every single breath he had.

His movements were slow, his hand gently moved to hook her leg around him, finding a deeper seat as he rocked forwards and back again and again, driving deep against her spot as her hands hooked around his neck, pulling him down to kiss her, deeply, softly as she moaned into his mouth.

“Come on baby,” he said gently, his lips moving to her neck, “atta girl, come on.”

Her back arched and her nails dug into the skin of his biceps as she leaned forward slightly, burying her head into the crook of his shoulder to muffle her cries as she came, tightening around him. He upped his pace, ever so slightly, chasing his own release and he came, his lips pressed to hers, a deep, satisfied moan bubbling from his throat into her mouth as his hips stuttered and he rest his forehead against hers, gathering his breath.  He suddenly realised he was led on top of her, his baby in her stomach and he went to move but she caught him softly, her hands straying to his shoulders as she smiled at him, her hands gently moving to rake up through his hair as she pressed a soft kiss to his mouth before she nipped his lip and he practically growled at her.

“Keep doing that,” he muttered “and I’ll be hard again in about five seconds flat.” “I’m counting on it.” She smirked, kissing him again.

*****

“I’m sorry, say that again?” Katie looked at Dr Kellet. The woman smiled and glanced back at her.

“Ten weeks.” She nodded “Give or take. Which makes your due date, roughly the 1st June”

Katie glanced at Steve who was frowning and she knew instantly what was bothering him. He was concerned about the fact she had been pregnant in the fight, and was worried that the snap would have done some lasting damage. Katie wasn’t as concerned, for some inexplicable reason she knew everything was okay and had instead diverted his attention to researching second pregnancies… which he had done with gusto.

The kids were in bed, Bucky and Sam were, actually, Katie had no idea where they were, not that it mattered, they were grown men. They were led on the couch, Katie down one side of the L shape, Steve on the other with his head in his wife’s lap as he glanced at the screen on his phone.

“It says here that you should feel them move sooner than the first time because you know what they feel like…” Steve said, grinning up at her. “Wonder if that means I’ll feel them sooner too?” Katie shrugged, smiling as she ran her hand through Steve’s hair. “No idea.”

“And you’ll carry it lower.” He continued. “Which according to this is a good thing as you’ll breathe easier and eat much more comfortably than you did last time. Although you might be doing the whole constant needing to pee thing sooner, but on the plus side labour is faster.” “Oh joy.” Katie sighed, her nails scratching his scalp slightly.

“And it says here you’re likely to start showing sooner.” A huge grin spread across his face. “I can’t wait!” He shifted slightly so that he was led on his stomach and his head crept under her T-shirt and his nose gently skimmed her lower belly. “Although last time when you started showing, it just looked like you’d eaten too many cheeseburgers…” Katie nipped his arm causing him to yelp out a laugh.

“Are you sure everything is okay?” Steve asked, drawing Katie out of her memories. “Because well, the snap and…”

Dr Kellet smiled and nodded “Your baby is perfectly healthy and normal, everything is perfect.”

Steve nodded, the worry he had instantly felt ebbing from his system and Katie gently laced her fingers between his and glanced back at the screen.

“Ten weeks…” she sighed “How on Earth did I not notice I was that far gone?”

Steve gently kissed the back of her hand. “Honey it doesn’t matter, don’t think on it. Don’t think on any of it.”

“I’ll get you a few copies of the photo.” Dr Kellet nodded.

“Have you had many others in, like this I mean?” Katie asked as the Doctor wiped the cold gel off her stomach “I mean, that have had babies back or…” “You’re the sixth one I’ve seen since everyone came back.” she smiled “Who knew?”

“Could be problematic,” Katie mused “I mean like, what if they are already pregnant again, or like, I dunno, dead against having kids now or…” “Katie…” Steve chuckled “Shut up.”

****

Armed with the two scan photos they headed home and were greeted by an excited Jamie who dragged the pair of them into the living room where he had been building a rocket out of lego with Bucky’s help.

“Everything okay?” Sam looked up from where he as prodding at Katie’s tablet, reading the news.

“Yeah,” Katie smiled, and she looked at Steve who grinned at his friends.

“Roughtly Ten weeks.” He answered the unasked question and Sam frowned.

“Ten weeks…” He mumbled as he did the same maths they had done in the car, a huge shit eating grin crossing his face. “So it was that time on the mission!”

“It’s kinda funny really.” Katie smirked. “Both of them were made through some pretty wild loving up against a wall.” Steve let out a sigh and he shot his wife a filthy look as both Bucky and Sam roared with laughed.

“What was against a wall?” Jamie asked, looking up at her and Steve let out a low groan.

“We’ll give you a minute.” Bucky smiled, standing up as he headed into the kitchen, followed by Sam, both passing Emmy who was returning with a drink for her and Jamie.

“Come here.” Katie settled on the couch and pat the seat next to her. Jamie scrambled up and ran over, jumping up beside her. Steve sat on the other side of him, and Emmy perched on the corner cushion. Katie looked over at Steve who smiled and turned so he was facing his son slightly.

“We have some news, buddy. Some good news.” He gently ran his hand over Jamie’s head “Your mom’s gonna have another baby.” “You’re gonna be a big brother.” Katie smiled as he turned to look up at her, his eyes wide.

“A baby?”

“Yeah.” Katie nodded.

“Isn’t that cool?” Emmy grinned and Jamie nodded before he frowned slightly before he looked back at his dad.

“Where is it?”

“It’s in your momma’s tummy.” Steve answered.

Jamie looked at Katie for a moment, before his frown deepened. “How did it get in there?”

Steve hesitated for a moment, his neck and cheeks flushing as he desperately thought about how he could explain this in a way that was suitable for a three year old’s ears. “Well, I…” “It got there because we’re a family.” Katie cut in, smiling. “And me and your dad love each other very much, so it’s kinda something that happens.”

“Oh.” Jamie nodded, and Steve shot his wife a smile as Jamie grinned. “So when is it gonna be here?”

“Not till early next year.” Katie smiled.

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“We dunno yet pal.” Steve smiled.

“I hope it’s a boy.” Jamie nodded decisively. Katie smiled at Steve before Jamie quipped up again “But I’m not sharing my room or my toys. I don’t like people touching my stuff.”

**** O/S: To The Stars And Back

Chapter 60

 **Original Posting**