#laura honey i would let you bite me any time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wheelsup-sevenup · 2 years

Text

nothing we were ever trained for

“It’s not like she’d just disappeared, left in the night without a trace. It would have been too similar to events in her past — a station wagon drives off into the Ohio summer night, a girl with no-longer-blue hair brushes her sister’s fingertips as they pass in the hallways, before slipping out of reach.

Natasha had no intention of doing that again.”

After the combined events of Civil War and Black Widow, Natasha is left spiraling between the two families she thought she’d lost.

Chapter 2

“Dreykov wasn’t the only one who was still alive, though.”

Read it on AO3

or continue reading here:

“oh, goddamn,

my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand.”

- taylor swift, ivy

“I saw what happened on the news,” is all Clint can really say as he holds the door open for Natasha.

She nods vaguely, drops her coat and steps into the living room where Laura is waiting. Clint can’t help it; he watches her walk, checking for the barest hint of a limp or some kind of physical injury. If Natasha needs something treated, well, experience tells him that the odds of her saying something are low.

Especially when she’s like this.

“Hey, honey,” Laura greets her. “Is a hug okay?”

Natasha nods, and so Laura pulls her into one of her certified Mom hugs, the kind that can soothe the kids out of any kind of tantrum. Natasha buckles into the embrace, pressing her chin into Laura’s shoulder and burrowing even tighter into her arms.

Clint closes the door quietly and sits down on the couch.

“I’ve got you,” Laura whispers, one hand smoothing down Natasha’s hair. “You’re safe.”

Natasha lets out a long, slightly choked breath. “Yeah.”

Laura guides her down to the couch, between her and Clint. Natasha exhales, clearly near exhaustion.

“Tasha, I need to know if you’re hurt anywhere.” He has to ask.

“I’m fine.”

Laura gives her a look.

“It’s bandaged,” she amends.

“Anything need cleaning?”

“Later.”

“Okay,” he acquiesces. “Later.”

“How’d you guys know I was coming?” she asks Clint.

“Tony told us.”

Natasha stares.

“You bought the ticket off his credit card.”

“No, I know, but how’d he know I was coming here?”

“You’re more predictable than you think you are, Nat.” Laura jokes.

She freezes at that, her hands curling into fists so her nails dig into her palms. Clint swears under his breath.

“Ross knows I’m here. I shouldn’t have come, I’m sorry, I—”

“Whoa, Nat. Slow down.”

She gets up and starts pacing. “They’re coming. This was a bad idea, Christ, Clint, what if the kids see…”

“The kids are fine. They’re asleep, in their rooms. Tony isn’t gonna tell Ross you’re here.” Clint gets up slowly, positioning himself in front of her. “I’m sorry. I know you hate people seeing you like this, but you just gotta breathe, okay? It’s just us. You’re okay.”

She nods shortly, clenching and unclenching her fists in time with each rapid breath.

“You’re okay,” he repeats, but her eyes are fixed over his shoulder, at the kitchen table. After a quick glance over his shoulder, he turns back to her and slowly takes her hands into his, holding back a wince as her nails immediately bite into his skin.

She closes her eyes.

“Deep breaths,” Clint reminds her, and she nods. Her hand goes to his shoulder, tugging lightly, and he gets the hint, leaning forwards until his forehead rests against hers.

They rest there for a moment. He squeezes her hand in time with his breaths, and eventually hers start to slow down.

“Okay?” he checks.

“Think so.”

“Sit down?”

She nods, her forehead bumping against his, and they sit back down in their original spots.

Natasha slumps forwards, her chin in her hands, eyes fixed on the same spot at the kitchen table. Clint looks at Laura, signing a quick question over Natasha’s head.

Dissociating?

Don’t think so, she signs back.

“I know you’re talking about me behind my back.”

“We’re not saying a word.” Clint reminds her. She reaches a hand back to swat listlessly at his knee.

“Nat, honey, what’s with the kitchen table?” Laura asks, ever the peacekeeper.

“I had a dream.”

“And… you were here?”

“Yeah, I came in…” she points to the door, “and you guys were watching TV on the couch. And when I came around to sit down, I…”

She looks down. “I’d killed you guys.”

It’s nothing she hasn’t had before. He wants to ask, on the risk of sounding heartless, why that’s enough to warrant this kind of reaction.

“And he was sitting at the kitchen table.” She bites out the he with such vehemence that she leaves no confusion as to who she’s referring to.

“Dreykov.”

“He told me I did good. He said, welcome home.”

“Tasha, Dreykov’s dead. We killed him, eight years ago.”

“You saw the news,” she says bitterly, staring straight ahead. “You really think that’s true?”

“Shit,” Laura curses, and Natasha and Clint look at her, mildly surprised. “You talked to him?”

“Yelled. He controlled me with his weird mind altering pheremones, I punched him in the face.”

Despite the thrill he gets from hearing that Nat was finally able to give him even a fragment of what he deserved, his stomach still sinks. Being under his control again, after so long… that can’t be good.

“Then what?”

She looks at him, emotionless, and mimes an explosion.

Laura puts an arm around her shoulder, and Natasha leans into her side.

“Natasha, you know that’s a huge thing that’s happened, right?” Clint asks her. “It’s okay to be struggling right now. That’s… that’s like a regular shitshow of resurfaced trauma.”

She laughs a little.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re not wrong.”

She bites her lip, her face sober again and eyes distant.

“Dreykov wasn’t the only one who was still alive, though.”

Clint’s stomach drops further, thinking of the various instructors and handlers Natasha’s told him about. “Who?”

She whispers one word, the guilt heavier in her eyes than it’s been the whole time she’s been here.

Yelena.

Yelena, the girl from the stories. If you believe Natasha, she was made entirely of sunshine and fireworks and had most of the world wrapped around her little finger and the rest of it at her fingertips.

If you believe Natasha, she’s the one who killed her.

“You said she was dead.” He doesn’t mean to sound accusatory, but maybe it comes out that way.

“I had kind of hoped she was.”

“How is she?” Is all Laura wants to know.

“She’s hurting right now,” she replies honestly. “Dreykov has chemical subjugation implanted in all of the newer generation Widows — leaves them with no choice, no chance of defection. She told me she didn’t know which part was her.” Her voice is flat, listless.

“Chemical subjugation?”

Laura kicks him lightly. “You don’t have to tell us all the technical details right now, if you don’t want. How’d your reunion go?”

“Beat each other up.” A little life, a little humor creeps back into her voice.

“Ha. That’s the sibling impulse,” Clint laughs. “You guys really are sisters.”

A little smile creeps across her face, and she leans back against the couch. “Yep.”

“Who won?”

Laura kicks him again.

“Me.”

“Good for you.”

“I always let her win when we were kids. I guess she wasn’t trying to stab me then.”

“C’mon, Nat, she wouldn’t have actually stabbed you.”

“Maybe.” She sounds unconvinced.

“So if Yelena was alive, what about…” Laura leaves the question hanging.

“Mom and Dad?” The corner of her mouth lifts in an ironic grin. “Yeah, they’re still around.”

“Did you see them?”

“We — me and Yelena — busted Alexei out of prison, and then we went to see Melina. Turns out she’s been working remotely for the Red Room for a while now.”

“After all that time?” Clint’s shocked.

She glares at him. “It’s not so easy to get out, you know.”

“I know. I wasn’t judging. I just… shit, it must’ve been really hard for her, working for him for so long.”

“Her especially.”

“How d’you mean?” The question slips from Clint’s mouth, flippant, without him really considering it — Natasha’s history, what she’s told him about Dreykov, what he’d done to her.

“She was his favorite.” She pauses, then adds, “before me.”

Clint nods his understanding, and laces his fingers through hers. “But he’s dead now.”

“He’s dead now,” she confirms, meeting his eyes. A slow smile makes its way onto her face, shaken yet triumphant. Clint smiles back.

Natasha leans back into Laura’s arms once again, this time much more relaxed but still, Clint can tell, on edge. Laura runs her hand over Natasha’s curls soothingly while Clint strokes his thumb over the back of her hand, squeezing occasionally to keep her present.

He notices her wrists are free of the puffy red marks and blue-gray bruises that speak to the use of handcuffs, a fact that relieves him immensely. He knows the signs on her body that denote danger, the marks on her wrist being one of them, the small crescent marks of her nails on her skin being another. Those she has, littered in groups over her upper arms and near the baby hairs on the back of her neck. He doesn’t blame her for not being able to handle her thoughts right now, and god knows it’s at least better than her older coping mechanisms, so he says nothing.

Laura is the one to break the silence. “Nat, you said there was something that needed cleaning?”

She rolls her eyes. “We were having such a nice moment.”

“We can have another nice moment when all your injuries are clean.”

“Just the one. On my back, right shoulder.”

“Okay if I look at it?”

“Yeah.” Natasha pulls her shirt up to hang loosely around her neck. Laura peels off the thick bandage, allowing Clint to see the deep cut, held together by a row of stitches, that lies to the side of her shoulder blade. All things considered, it looks to be healing well — no redness for infection, no popped stitches.

“They probably need to be taken out,” Natasha admits.

“Let’s do that in the bathroom,” Laura decides, and so they go, Clint fully aware he’s tagging along for emotional support only. His stitches are good in a pinch, but Laura’s always been better at this than he has. She is a healer, in all senses of the word.

There’s peace, there in the yellow light of the bathroom, if only for a little while. Clint and Natasha talk in low voices while Laura works the stitches out one by one.

They’re interrupted by a knock on the bathroom door. “Daddy?”

“I got it.” Clint squeezes Natasha’s hand once more, kisses Laura on the cheek, then leaves the warm light of the bathroom.

“Hey, Coop, what’s up?”

Drowsy eyes stare up at him. “I heard Auntie Nat.”

“Oh. Yeah, well, she can’t talk right now, okay? Maybe in the morning.”

“Why?”

Clint scoops him up. “She’s got a little ouchie.”

“Why?”

Didn’t he already go through this phase?

“Is it because she’s a superhero?” Cooper’s face is squished right up in his ear as they go up the stairs.

“Yeah, that’s why. She saved a lot of people this time, you know that? A lot of people.”

“Auntie Nat is my favoritest superhero. Besides you.”

“You should tell her tomorrow, huh? She could use it.”

“Okay.” Cooper agrees.

“Okay. Now shh, don’t wake your sister.” Clint steers him into his and Lila’s room.

“I love you, Daddy.” Cooper whispers, crawling into bed.

“I love you more.” He presses a kiss onto his forehead. “See you in the morning.”

Cooper’s eyes are already drifting shut.

“I love you more,” he whispers again, then backs out of the room, shutting the door behind him quietly as possible.

When he gets back to the downstairs bathroom, Laura already has Natasha’s stitches removed and the skin Vaseline-d and re-bandaged. Nat’s head is drooping from exhaustion.

“C’mon, Tasha,” he murmurs, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

“I don’t want to go to sleep,” she admits.

“It’s okay. I’ll stay with you, and we’ll just go lie down on the couch, alright?” He gives Laura a silent thank you glance. God knows what he’d do without this woman — either of them, actually.

Clint sits the two of them down on the sofa, pulls a blanket over their legs. Natasha adjusts herself so that she’s lying curled up against him, her head on his chest. “Good?” Clint asks, and receives a slow nod in return.

Laura comes in, presses a soft kiss to his lips and a gentle squeeze to Nat’s shoulder before she leaves the two of them be, just for now. It’s not like Laura knows Natasha any less completely than he does, or that Natasha is any less comfortable around her than she is with Clint, but she has a hard enough time falling asleep with one person around, let alone two. Even if she doesn’t want to be alone.

“Tell me about Yelena.”

Clint can see Natasha smile into the vague glow of light from the kitchen.

“Once we went on a camping trip,” she starts, and the words flow steady and soft from her lips, “and we went fishing. We caught a lot of fish, actually, but Yelena wouldn’t let us keep any of them. Every time we caught one, she barely let Alexei take our picture with it before she made us throw it back into the lake. She had us wrapped around her little finger from day one.”

She keeps talking, her words slowing as she drifts, until there’s only silence. Clint falls asleep not long after she does, thinking about big sisters and little brothers, moms, dads, sons and daughters.

For once, the memories aren’t painful.

The first thing Clint does when he wakes up is go upstairs and tell the kids that Auntie Nat is here.

Okay, that’s a lie — the first thing Clint does when he wakes up is put in his hearing aids, stretch out his sore muscles, and figure out where everyone is in the house. He’d told Natasha he was done with the spy life, but they both knew that was a lie. He hadn’t even told Laura.

The good news is, nothing in the house is out of place. The kids are quiet in their rooms — which makes sense, as it’s six am. Laura is out on the patio with Nathaniel and Natasha, where they sit most mornings Nat’s here.

The next thing he does is hurry the kids down the stairs in a screeching whirlwind of loud pajamas and sharp elbows.

By the time he gets downstairs himself, and out to the patio, Lila has made herself comfortable on Nat’s lap, and Cooper is talking to her animatedly, swinging all five of them on the porch swing.

Clint chooses a boring, stationary chair for himself. “No good mornings for me?”

Cooper gives him a good morning, Dad, but Lila just hugs Natasha closer and says, “No. Auntie Nat is here, and you’re boring-er than her.”

“Boring people still deserve a good morning,” Natasha reminds her.

Lila heaves a deep sigh akin to a man who’s lived a thousand years of suffering, and grumbles, “Good morning, Dad.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“There you go, big girl.” Natasha runs a fingertip down between Lila’s eyes and taps her on the nose. “Was that so hard?”

She giggles. “Yes.”

“Auntie Nat?” Cooper speaks up.

“Yeah?”

“How long are you gonna be here?”

“I don’t really know,” she answers, and she looks at Clint when she says it.

“You’re always welcome here, for however long,” he tells her. “You know that.”

Natasha nods, then addresses Cooper. “How long do you want me to stay for?”

“Forever and ever!”

“How about a week?”

Cooper seems to think that’s fair, then turns to Laura and asks about pancakes for breakfast. A force of nature, that kid.

Laura pretends to consider it. “Hmm… how about you help me make the pancakes?”

“Okay!”

Clint realizes what she’s doing. There’s a conversation that needs to happen, one better without the listening ears of the kids. Laura hands him the baby, and coaxes Lila into the kitchen under the promise of chocolate chips.

With the space freed, he sits next to Nat on the porch swing, kicking his feet to move them gently back and forth.

“So.” He starts.

“So.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“Mo — Melina’s place?”

“I’m assuming so, yeah.”

“You’ve read the obituaries.”

“I have.”

She shrugs, and gives him that look that he recognizes from a hundred similar conversations before. “Red in my ledger, Clint.”

“Not to sound callous, but what makes you different?”

She bites the inside of her cheek and doesn’t meet his eyes. After a long pause, she says, “None of the Widows in Melina’s house would be there, if we hadn’t… we hadn’t failed.”

“In killing Dreykov, you mean.”

“We should’ve checked the body.”

“Not a lot survives an explosion like that, you know that. We couldn’t even be sure there was a body.”

“It’s my—”

“It’s absolutely not your fault. It’s Dreykov’s fault, and every other sick—”

“He turned his daughter into a weapon, Clint.” Her voice is emotionless and firm. “A machine, chemically controlled beyond recognition. He couldn’t even look at her. And those Widows, he had them, for years. Because of me.”

“I get no responsibility here?”

“It’s not your mess.”

“Then why is it yours?”

“I should have saved them,” she tells him, and the words burst out like a weight flying free from her chest. “I should have saved all of them.”

“You did. A week ago.”

Her jaw clenches and her eyes fly to the ceiling.

“You’re a hero, Tasha,” he tells her gently. She drops her head to his chest, and he feels her silent tears soak into his shirt. He takes the arm that’s not holding Nate, and wraps it around her shaking shoulders. “You’re a hero to me, and my kids, and a million little girls and boys around the world. And you’re especially a hero to every girl you single-handedly got out of the Red Room.”

“I had help.”

“Oh, c’mon. All the heroic shit you do has to be a team effort, but the weight of any kind of failure has to rest on your shoulders alone? What kind of logic is that?”

She laughs against his chest. “It was a team effort, though.”

“Still. Take some credit.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Cooper wanted me to tell you something, by the way.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“You’re his favoritest superhero.”

“I love that kid,” she sighs.

She cries into his shirt while the sun rises. When she’s done, and her tears are dry for now (there’s sure to be more of these talks later, and tears, in this coming week), the three of them let themselves into the warmth of the kitchen and eat chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.

Just for a moment, everything is fine.

#woohoo! angst!#marvel #black widow #natasha romanoff #mcu #clint barton #hawkeye #laura barton #clintasha #fanfiction #fanfic

9 notes · View notes

layniapetrovnaaa · 4 years

Text

“No boys”

Request: @soytrash

Hey beautiful 🤍 how about a cute little moment between reader and Logan with Laura regarding a crush 🥺And Logan is just overprotective, but prior to Laura coming home from school and talking about a crush, Logan is trying to get some from reader 🥵 please and thank you hun let me know if that’s okay or not 🥰 (maybe with the baby from your family series too) sorry if it’s too much I love your writing 🥺🤍

Warnings: Smut, swearing (if you squint).

A/n: Do you guys picture yourself when reading fanfiction? Cause I do and don’t haha. Typically when I read/write for Logan I picture myself as Scarlett Johansson in Match Point and The Island lol. I’d love to hear about you guys, so just let me know!

Reader is written as under 30 y/o, if you are older, just change the number :)

I hope this is good enough (I’m not really that confident in this one). Let me know if you have any constructive criticism.

[The Howlett Family series]

It was a particularly warm day in the Canadian Rockies, warm enough to open a few windows and have the cozy log house smelling of the fresh outdoor air. the window above the sink that you were currently standing at let a breeze into the house that tickled you just enough to have your body bear a small chill.

As you rinsed one of the bowls you had used this morning to prepare breakfast, your hips swayed side to side in a fluid manor that matched the rhythm of the song that lightly boomed out of the speaker which sat by the fruit bowl on the counter. The reason behind the low volume was that Logan was currently trying to put your youngest daughter down for her daily afternoon nap. If the wails and grumbling coming from the baby monitor was any indication, it wasn't going very well.

You dried off your hands and picked up the monitor, holding down on the button that allowed your voice to come through on the other end.

“You need some help?”

“We’re fine. I just cant find her goddamn pacifier.”

“Did you check on the shelf by her changing table?” you spoke again.

Suddenly the crying stops and you smile knowing he found it.

He lets out a quiet “Thanks.”

You set the monitor back down and go back the the half a dozen dishes left in the sink.

“Kid’s quite the screamer hm?” you announce as Logan walks out from the hallway a few minutes later.

“Yeah she is, I think she got it from her mother.” he jokes walking around the island to be closer to you.

You let out a breathy gasp like-laugh.

“Oh really?” you say in an exaggerated tone, humor still consuming it.

“Mhm, and speaking of screaming...” he places his hands on your waist and squeezes a bit.

“We can’t baby, Laura's gunna be home in like ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes is enough time. I can’t help it, you just look so sexy--”

Before he can finish you interrupt.

“Logan, you know damn well ten minutes isn't enough time.”

“I just need something [Y/N].” he says as his hands find your breasts and you let out a small moan, abandoning the dish towel and griping the counter.

He kisses your neck, sucking and nipping at the soft flesh, which brings forth light breathy moans from your mouth.

You turn your head to kiss him and you can feel yourself throb a bit when your lips meet. his hands dip into your top and pull your breast out of their confines, teasing your nipples with his fingers.

He continues to grope and kiss you as his dominant hand makes its way into your pants.

You moan loudly into his mouth as the pad of his middle finger circles your clit a few times.

His lips separate from yours so he can speak.

“Hmm, You like that?” he says in his breathy and gruff voice.

You can’t seem to make out any words, so instead you offer an almost whiny sounding “Mhm.” as his fingers inch lower.

You gasp, throwing your head back onto his shoulder, your right hand coming up to hold the back of his neck, as his middle and ring fingers enter your tight lubricated hole.His fingers curling in the classic “come hither” position, making you squeeze around his digits.

Even after all of the time you had spent with Logan, your body still didn't know how to handle the pleasure, that being evident in the way that your back arched and you sporadically bucked your hips back into his crotch with every jolt of pleasure that you felt.

Your moans were absolutely erotic as he seemed to push further into you, finding that spot that did in fact make you scream.

And the explicit squelching noises were making you even more desperate as he fucks you with his fingers.

As you let out another slew of loud moans, you feel his hand come up to cover your mouth.

“As much as I love hearing those pretty noises you make, baby, you gotta be quiet.”

Your eyes rolled back and fluttered shut at his his words and the vibrations from your moans bouncing against his cupped hand.

His thumb starts to circle your clit in the same rhythm that his fingers were moving in.

God, you were so done for.

He releases his hand from over your mouth before he asks:

“You gunna cum?”

“Mhmm” you let out in high pitched whine.

“Ouh! Don’t stop.” you pleaded as that marvelous feeling started to take over.

“That’s right baby, jus like that.” he speaks, egging you on until your mouth falls open and your eyes squeeze shut, your orgasmic euphoria taking over.

Eventually your body comes back down to earth.

“Look at that, you got three minutes to spare.” he coos in a triumphant tone.

Your breath is heavy and you whimper slightly when he pulls his fingers out of you.

You glance over to the built in clock in the stove before readjusting yourself and catching your breath.

Turning around, you plant your hands on the space where his shoulders and neck connect, and kiss him. Your tongues danced together sensually until you pulled away.

“I wish I could return the favor...” you hum and he kisses you again.

“You will later.” he says as the screeching of the school bus tires alerts you of Laura’s homecoming.

You look up at him and bite your lip, giving him a sensual smile as you nod.

You separate from him as you hear the front door open, going over to greet Laura.

“Hey honey, how was school?”

You could hear Logan in the kitchen, chuckling at your total change in demeanor.

You turn slightly to roll your eyes at him, but the small amused smirk on your face gives you away.

You turn back to your daughter as she answers you while getting her homework and lunchbox out of her backpack.

“It was alright. We got to watch a movie in my english class, so that was nice.”

You follow her to the kitchen where she sits at one of the bar stools at the dark wood island, slapping her purple folder and pencil onto the table.

You noticed something off with the young mutant, like she wasn’t telling you something.

When she looked up to see you and Logan analyzing her, she knew she would have to put on a better performance if she wanted to keep her secret. Fortunately for you, she wasn’t feeling up for a challenge today. And it’s not that she wanted to hide what her friends had told her was called a “crush”, but she knew how her parents would probably react.

“Laura, is there something you need to tell us?” Logan spoke.

“Sweetheart, you know you can tell us anything, right?” you squeeze her shoulder in a loving manor.

She nods, taking in a breath before turning to you and muttering: No puedes decírselo a papá... (You can’t tell daddy...)

Hearing this concerned you. Laura and Logan had a pretty open relationship, despite their constant bickering.

Your eyes quickly flick over to Logan, who was watching you and Laura, his arms crossed while he leans against the kitchen counter.

“Que es Laura?”

Logan was accustom to yours and Laura’s more private conversations you had in spanish. He wasn't really a fan, only because when they would occur, he felt left out. But, he figured this must be important and waited patiently before asking you what she had just said about him.

“Hay un chico en mi clase que está enamorado de mí.” (There is this boy in my class who is in love with me). Her voice is quiet, but her tone sounds exasperated.

Logan's brows furrowed when he heard “un chico”. He didn't know much spanish, but he did know that un chico meant a boy, and he did not like the sound of that.

You snort, your hand quickly flying up to cover your mouth before you speak.

“Aww Laura!”

A shy grin spreads across her face.

“What did she say?” Logan speaks up

You bite your lip, trying to hold in your small bit of laughter. You look over at Laura and can tell that, although she is nervous for what her fathers reaction may be, it would be best to tell him about her dilemma.

“Laura has a not so secret admirer.”

“He wrote me a note.” she says, grabbing a crinkled white paper from her pocket.

You could tell by her humorous tone that she found the situation comical, and didn't seem to reciprocate the feelings.

Logan on the other hand had immediately gone into full protective father mode, snatching the note from her hand, and reading over it to make sure nothing obscene had been written/drawn on it.

After he is finished looking at it he crumples it up and puts it in the garbage.

“No boys until you are 30.”

“Logan don’t be ridiculous.” you say, walking over to fish the note out of the can.

“I am not being ridiculous.” he scoffs, incredulously.

“In fact, I think I’m being a bit lenient. 30 years old is a perfectly reasonable age to start being romantic with someone.” he says, and now it was your turn to scoff as you hand the paper to Laura.

She makes a disgusted face and holds the very corner with her pointer finger and thumb. You couldn't tell if it was because it had been in the trash, or because of it’s contents.

You turn back to face Logan and cross your arms.

“You do realize that we’ve had a baby together and I’m not yet 30, right?”

He retracts slightly, and grumbles:

“That’s different.”

“Uh-huh” you reply sarcastically.

“The feelings are not mutual by the way.” Laura finally speaks up. Deciding to clear the air before an argument started brewing.

“I don’t have a crush on him.”

“That’s my girl.” Logan says, and you chuckle.

“That conversation is not finished by the way.” you say while you walk over to the pantry to get Laura a snack, Logan grimaces, thinking of the conversation that would come later.

“Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you and Mama end up together?”

“Uhh, well...” he starts, glancing up at you, not sure if it was the right time to share.

Yours and Logan’s story was a bit controversial. The reason being that you were only 19 when you first “got together”, and Logan was your ex-teacher. And it wasn't exactly the most orthodox either. Instead of the typical flowers and a dinner date, it was more like neither of you could sleep one night, and one thing led to another, which led to you waking up in his arms in the morning. You had always had romantic feelings towards The Wolverine. Though they were never truly discussed, you both knew they were there, and you knew they were unbreakable. So, after that night, you two became exclusive.

“We met at Charles’ school, you know that.” you speak, setting the packet of crackers in front of the pre-teen, and walking over to grab an apple to cut up for her.

Laura sighs, knowing that she probably wouldn't get the answer she was looking for if you weren't willing to share it.

She rips open the wrapper, glaring at Logan when he steals a cracker from her.

“Well, how did you know you had a crush on each other?”

You chuckle lightly as the knife cuts into the ripe and scarlet colored fruit.

“We didn’t exactly have a crush on each other, Laura.” Logan starts, but a dry cough finishes the sentence.

You look up at him, asking if he was alright with your eyes.

He gives you a blunt nod as he lets out a deep breath.

You notice your daughters furrowed brow as she munches on the biscuit, and elaborate on Logan’s previous statement.

“Your father and I’s relationship is a bit complicated and unconventional, Laura. What he was saying was that we have and had a connection on a level so much more than a crush.”

She nods and pops another cracker in her mouth.

“But,” the crisp sound of the apple interrupts you slightly.

“usually when you have a crush on someone, you get the feelings of butterflies in your stomach whenever you see or think about that person. You smile when they smile, and laugh when they laugh. You want to be around them all the time, and you try to get their attention. You sometimes get nervous, and jealous of others that are close to them.”

You place the apple slices on a plate and slide it over to her, cleaning up the slight mess you had made and you glance over at her.

Laura sat starring at the plate as she thought of all of her symptoms you had just listed.

“Why were you asking?” Logan asks, his voice stern and suspicious.

She looks up, once again nervous.

You smile, getting an inkling as to where this is going.

“Well, there’s this-”

“No Laura. No boys, remember?” Logan interrupts, his custodial protectiveness resurfacing.

“It’s not a boy.” she mutters.

Logan blinks a few times, looking over to your grinning face.

“It’s a girl?” he asks, making sure that he wasn’t getting mixed up at all.

Laura looks up from the oxidizing apples a second time and nods.

“Well,” he leans back in his seat, breathing out.

“Tell me ‘bout her.”

She grins and you smile back, lovingly.

And then she doesn’t stop talking about the girl with the dark umber skin and curly caramel highlights until you have to remind her to eat her apple slices.

#old man logan #wolverine #old man logan imagine #old man logan x reader #old man logan imagines #logan howlett #old man logan smut #Smut #laura howlett #laura kinney #logan 2017 #wolverine x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #wolverine imagine #wolverine imagines #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader

527 notes · View notes

imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

White Lies (Pt. 15 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 1.8 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

<- Previous part (14)

Next part (16)->

{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

The War Between The Mind And The Heart

At the hotel room, you cry on Laura's shoulder. She knew it, of course she did, but despite being furious at her too, you need someone. And you can't call Lucia, even though you know she's the grandmother of your child.

Yesterday, you couldn't sleep. The night was a nightmare, a torture, as you stared into the darkness with memories filling your head. All of them have Keanu in it. And they were good. When the morning finally came, you called Laura and she ran here, made you eat something as you cried and yelled and sobbed. Your head hurts, your throat is sore, and you feel like shit.

“I can't believe he did that. I trusted him with all my heart.” It comes out barely a whisper and you dry your eyes for the hundredth time with a tissue.

“(Y/N), you need to listen to me now,” Laura says, holding both your hands on hers. “You already vented and I listened. But now I must explain what happened.”

You don't think you want to listen. During the night, you even considered going to Argentine with Lucia as soon as the baby is ready to travel. But the very thought of being so far from Keanu crushed your heart, and you felt stupid to hold such felling. So now, you don't know what to do. From your position, back resting on the headrest of the bed, surrounded by pillows, you weakly nod. “Why did he lie to me, Laura? Why did you lie to me?”

She takes a deep breath before speaking. “Keanu found your car, (Y/N). You were bleeding, almost dead. And during the two weeks you were in a coma, the doctors found me, and I was in some of the meetings they had to explain your condition. Keanu paid for the best care, so they were fully dedicated to you. And this story was their idea.” Reaching out her hand, she wipes a tear away. “Daniel died only a week before the accident, and that was the reason behind it. You were sad, crying, with the pregnancy test in your bag, so you got overwhelmed in the road and crashed.” Laura makes a small pause as if gathering her thoughts. “Dr. Wright told us back there was a high chance you'd have some kind of brain damage, memory loss. So they asked Keanu if he could... Play this role, putting it in their words. Any kind of stress would put the baby in even more danger, and they thought you'd feel better to know you had someone with you.”

Looking down at your hands, you think about this new information. So Keanu didn't pull this off by himself. You get it now, why some instructions were meant to him. But still, you don't know what to think.

“He didn't want to do it. I was there when he said it wouldn't be fair to you.” Laura squeezes your hand a little. “But both you and the baby could die depending on how you'd receive the news. So he accepted.”

“But Laura, I... I fell for him. Call me an idiot, but I did.” Your voice breaks, and you try really hard not to sob again. “And the worst part is that I still love him. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Keanu fell in love with you too.” She speaks slowly as if knowing it would make you break down a little more. And it does. With both hands covering your face, you cry all over again. “And yes, I spoke to him about it. He... He wanted to tell you everything after your trip to Miami, but he couldn't.”

“Why are you helping him?” You mutter, holding back a sob.

“I'm just telling you the truth. All of it.” Moving to sit beside you, she hugs one of the spare pillows. “After the... The first time you slept together was the first time Keanu called me. Before it was always me calling to get some updates on your condition.” Turning your head to look at her, you put a strand of hair behind your ear. “He was feeling so guilty, he couldn't believe what he did.”

“What did he say?”

“He cursed himself for not stopping. For keeping the lie for so long. He was about to tell you everything but I had to stop him because the doctors were still worried about your state.”

There's a war happening inside you. Your brain tells you to forget Keanu, to move away from New York, to hate him for all the lies. But the heart, wild creature, says otherwise. It aches for him, it calls, it longs for him. And you want to cave in.

“I hate that I love him.” You mumble, hands caressing your belly. This isn't how you thought the pregnancy would end.

“Can I... Can I ask you something? On Keanu's behalf?” Laura speaks low, and you furrow your eyebrows before looking at her. “I know he's not the father, but he does love your child as if he was... So, please... If you do love him, even if you hate the way you feel, don't take the child away from him. At least... At least let him visit, wherever you decide to go, if you decide to go somewhere else.”

Her words make more tears roll down. It may not be fair with Daniel, but you do wish Keanu was the father. Liam knows his voice, as well as he knows yours. Ever since the obstetrician said the baby could listen and was able to distinguish the voices, you both started talking even more to the bump. You wonder if he'd miss Keanu as much as you already do.

“I don't know what to do... Liam's bedroom is there.” Your home is there, with him. “Tell me what to do, Laura. And I'll do it.” Begging, you run a hand through your hair.

“I can't. You must figure that out by yourself.” Laura bumps her shoulder against yours playfully. “Have you spoken to Lucia?”

“I still don't like her.”

“You never did.” She adds, giggling. “Neither did Daniel. But I believe she'll head back to Argentina after the baby is born and maybe call once a month and visit on Christmas. But other than that she'll disappear.”

You probably shouldn't feel so relieved, but that's exactly the feeling that washes over you. “Laura... What... Did Keanu had any plans? For what he'd do after telling me the truth?” This is something you've been wondering all night, but still, you're not sure you want to know. But now that the words left your mouth, and there's no way you can take them back.

“(Y/N), Keanu wants to marry you.” Laura's voice gets lower, and as she stares at you, your eyes are glued to the blue wall across the room. “A real wedding. A ceremony, a party... Everything. But he was expecting this.”

“Expecting what?” You burst out.

“That you would never want to meet him again.”

Shaking your head lightly, you look at your hands. Could you even do that? Would you have the strength to stay away from him? It's only been a night and half the day, but you already miss him. “I don't know what to do... And I don't really have much time to think.”

“How close is the baby?”

“Very close. This is week 38, so the doctors said I should be prepared even though it may still take a week or two.” Both your hands lay on your belly, huge and swollen. It started to lower a little, and you know it's another sign that your time is coming. And that makes more tears fill your eyes. “I'm so scared, Laura...”

“I can imagine.” Putting an arm around your shoulders, she kindly smiles. “You know you have me, right? Call and I'll get here as fast as I can. And if you want, you can stay with me. The apartment isn't big and I don't have space for an extra bedroom for the baby but you'll be welcome and we'll make it work.”

“Thank you, Laura.” Crying again, you hug her the best you can with your belly getting in the way.

“You're welcome, honey.” She let go of you, and you take a deep breath. “I'll have to go now, I have a client on the other side of city and it's a hell of a long drive. Will you be ok?”

“Yes.” You won't, but you can't tell her that. “I'll call you if anything happens.”

“Alright, honey.” After some more goodbyes, Laura leaves and you're left alone again.

The silence is deafening. This damn hotel room makes you feel sick, so you lock yourself in the bathroom to take a long shower. It doesn't help. The tears and the water become one, and you can't tell the difference. There's this heavy feeling in your chest, like you're suffocating. Everything you knew ever since you woke up is a lie. Liam is the only real thing, and now, he won't have a father.

“Do you miss him too, baby?” You ask him, voice so weak you can barely hear yourself above the spray of water.

You wish he could answer, you wish some kind of miracle happened to push you in the right direction... And you know, deep inside, that your heart wants this path to lead back to Keanu.

An hour later, you're leaving the bathroom with the towel wrapped around your body, using another to finish drying your hair. Standing by the bed, you pick some clothes from your open baggage, choosing something comfortable to sleep in. Then suddenly, a sharp pain rips through your abdomen, moving down your thighs and back. Bending over, you bite down a groan. When the pain is starting to fade away, you feel something flowing down your thighs, soaking the floor under your feet.

You freeze, trying to process what happened. Moving away from the puddle, you sit on the bed using the towel, still damp because of your hair, to clean your legs the best you can, but another wave of pain comes, making yell this time. It's happening. It's happening right now and you're completely alone. Laura is too far away, and you don't want to call Lucia.

You could call 911. Or the reception, they'd find a way to help, but there's only one person in the world you need right now. And despite your brain telling you not to give in so easily, the pain is becoming greater, ripping through your body, and it feels like you broke a bone on your hip.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, struggling a little since your sight is all blurry by the tears. When you find his number, you make the call, lying down and pulling your feet up.

“(Y/N)?” He sounds weird, voice weak and sad. But you don't have time to overthink, to try and find answers. You need him immediately. You're about to answer when the pain hits again, and you yell, voice breaking into a cry in the end. “(Y/N), what's going on?”

“My water broke.” You mutter, breathing heavily. “I need you.”

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #imagine keanu reeves

65 notes · View notes

alittleimagine · 4 years

Text

just a favor pt. 2

derek hale x reader

prologue part 1

The Hale house outside San Francisco was smaller than the house Derek had taken over when his parents had left Beacon Hills behind, but it was still larger than you expected.

Your ideas of San Francisco and the surrounding areas always involved narrow homes on steep hills, and to be fair the majority of your knowledge regarding the housing market came from Kira, but the warm-toned two-story in front of you had space to breathe. You were reminded again of Malia’s vague comments on Hale family money.

Tearing your eyes from the house you looked over at Derek and the tense set of his jaw. You gave his side a gentle nudge with your elbow and took the bottle of wine you’d brought as a gift from his death grip. “Hey,” you said, voice low, “I thought I already told you everything would be fine.”

He watched you for a long moment. “Where exactly do you get all this unbridled confidence from?”

You smiled. Adjusting your hold on the wine bottle you looped your arm with his and started walking toward the green door. “Sometimes you just gotta fake it till you make it.”

The look he was giving you had the potential to throw you off your game if you weren’t careful. You winked at him and rang the doorbell.

The moment stretched out as you waited for the door to open. You wouldn’t tell Derek, he was a ball of tension already, but you had some worries. You weren’t a psychopath- a lot could go wrong and any sane person would be concerned, but you meant what you’d said. Confidence, real or imagined, did wonders.

You had been expecting his mom or dad, but it was Cora who opened the door.

Cora had visited Beacon Hills sometime during the summer and you had met when she’d arrived at a movie night. You couldn’t say you knew each other well, but she’d appreciated your knack for driving Stiles nuts.

Rather than welcome you both in she leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Derek. The oversized zip-up she wore over a sports bra was very in keeping with what you knew of her.

“Your girlfriend is Y/N?” She asked. It was difficult to say if she was skeptical or just giving Derek a hard time.

Derek sighed hard. “Clearly.”

Cora narrowed her eyes, seconds ticking by, then shrugged. “That tracks. Come on in.” Derek glared holes into her back as she led the way while you tried not to laugh.

“Dad!” She shouted through the house. “Derek’s here! And he actually brought someone.”

You felt Derek huff beside you. “No, Cora, don’t worry. I didn’t want an actual greeting or anything. Just suspicion.”

She grinned at him over her shoulder, ignoring his sarcasm. “Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

You couldn’t help but snort at Derek’s unimpressed look. Sibling irritation had relaxed him though and he moved your hand from his arm to hold in his own (warm, calloused, distracting) as you followed Cora into what you presumed was the kitchen.

There, cutting carrots at the kitchen island, was Alexander Hale. Derek had shown you pictures of his parents during your prep meetings, but you could have picked his dad out of a lineup without any help.

It was like looking into the future. His dad’s hair had begun greying on the sides of his head and he wore black-rimmed glasses, but you could picture Derek in a couple of decades looking just like him. Derek was broader, perhaps, but you had to wonder if he’d inherited anything from his mother.

Dr. Hale (you were sure to remind yourself of his doctoral degree in Gender Studies) smiled wide at the sight of you both. He set his knife down and wiped his hands on a dishtowel before rounding the island to embrace his son. “Derek! Happy Thanksgiving. How was traffic? Not too bad I hope. And this must be the girlfriend Laura told us about.”

He didn’t give Derek a chance to answer before focusing on you.

“Y/N.” You said, holding a hand out to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Hale.”

His handshake was warm and firm, and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Oh, just Al is fine. None of the doctor stuff. I’m glad Derek brought you along. He can be so private sometimes. Gets it from his mother.”

Derek groaned. “Dad. Come on.”

Al was unperturbed. “The turkey is already in the oven.” He said to you. “I’m just working on some stuffing and a few things to pick at-” He stopped himself short. “Wait. Do you like turkey? We didn’t make a ham. But, we can have Laura pick something up on her way in.”

Before you could reassure him that you loved turkey Cora spoke up.

She’d moved to lean on the counter by the cutting board and held a baby carrot in her hand. “Do you know if she even eats meat?” She took a loud bite of the carrot, reveling in her dad’s reaction.

Al looked horrified. “Oh my god, I didn’t ask if you were vegan or vegetarian.” You could see him trying to think back to everything he was cooking for the night.

“I eat meat.” You were quick to assure. “And I love turkey. I promise. I love Thanksgiving food.”

Though he sighed in relief the look of worry hadn’t faded from his face. “Are you sure? We can set something up.”

You could see Derek shake his head as he moved to take the wine bottle from you. “Cora’s just messing with you, dad. I would have told you if she was a vegetarian.”

Satisfied Al returned to his post as the cutting board. “Well, just let us know if you don’t like something, alright.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not shy about speaking my mind.” You said.

Derek nodded his confirmation before crossing the kitchen to retrieve a couple of glasses. “Water?” When you nodded he began filling the glasses, remembering you didn’t like ice in yours. “Where’s mom?” He asked. “Is Laura not in town yet?”

“Your mom is taking a call upstairs,” Al said, focusing on his chopping while Cora continued to eat stray carrots. “Laura is in town, they just arrived, but they checked into a hotel. Said it would be easier for the night.”

You’d never met Derek’s older sister though she’d visited Beacon Hills earlier in the year. You did know she was married to a Noah with a three-year-old girl named Alina and a baby boy on the way. She’d been the one Derek first lied to.

“What about Malia?” His dad asked. “I know she said they were doing a Thanksgiving brunch with Kira’s family before driving out.”

Derek nodded. “Yeah. They should be here in an hour or two.” He paused and wrinkled his nose. “Is Peter coming?”

His dad shook his head.

You knew Peter was Malia’s biological father and Derek’s maternal uncle and the relationship there was strained on all ends, but Malia had been working on it. A thought struck you, but you’d address it later.

“Why don’t you go get settled in.” Al said. “You guys are going to be in the room at the end of the hall. Malia and Kira are taking Cora’s room and Cora is sleeping in the living room tonight.”

Cora scowled. “Just because I’m not dating anyone.” She had been living with her parents while she attended the UCSF School of Medicine for sports medicine. You wouldn’t have loved being kicked out of your room either.

“I know, but it just makes sense, honey. It’s just one night.”

“I’m bringing a girlfriend next year.” She muttered to herself.

Derek mussed up her hair before gesturing for you to lead the way out of the kitchen.

Your bags, small as they were, had been left in the car and you watched as he grabbed them both, shaking his head when you offered to carry your own. The sun was high in the sky, but it was still chilly out and you wrapped your arms around yourself as he dug through the car to make sure nothing was left behind.

“Hey, I have a question.”

Derek gave you a curious look. “Yeah?”

“Peter is your mother’s brother, right?”

Derek nodded and something in his expression made you think he already knew where this was going. “You’re wondering why everyone is a Hale?”

“Yes.”

He smiled. “Dad took mom’s name when they got married. He does lectures all the time on how weird it is that surnames are patrilineal and when the time came for them to get married he said he had to put his money where his mouth was.” He’d clearly explained this multiple times in the past.

You grinned. “I kind of love your dad. Just saying.”

“Yeah, well, try not to get caught in one of his lectures.”

~*~*~*~

The room you’d be sharing for the night was a nice, simple guest room with a full bed and mostly neutral decor. While you peered out the window to see the view Derek stared intently at the bed.

“I’ll sleep on the floor.” He said, making you turn.

“Derek, what are the chances that Cora barges in here tomorrow morning? Or your niece?”

He winced.

“Yeah. it would probably look pretty weird if you were sleeping on the floor. I’m a whole grown-up,” you said, “I can share a bed with a man. Unless you don’t want to.”

Derek shook his head but said nothing.

You moved to look in the mirror hung on the wall and check your hair after the drive. You could see Derek watching you in the mirror.

“Does anything ever bother you?” He asked, sitting on the bed.

You furrowed your brow. “Lots of things bother me. Sharing a bed with you isn’t one of them.” You could just make out the pink tingeing his ears in the reflection. “And having to spend Thanksgiving with a family that seems pretty cool also doesn’t bother me.”

Derek watched you a moment longer. “Have I said thank you yet?”

“You might have. But it’s not a big deal. I’m having fun.” You turned to lean against the vanity and watch him. “It’s not particularly difficult to pretend to be your girlfriend.”

You expected him to blush at least a little, but he just watched you. You turned and gestured for him to follow you. “Come on. I still have to meet your mom.”

It was easy to chalk any nerves up to meeting Derek’s mom. Talia Hale was highly regarded and it wasn’t difficult to see why. As far as you knew she’d left a long career as a successful business attorney to pursue her original dream of working for the ACLU, hence the move to San Francisco. She remained a figure in a number of charities and organizations in Beacon Hills even from a distance and Derek always seemed in awe when he spoke of her.

So, the idea of her was intimidating.

Everyone wanted to be liked. Of course you wanted your fake boyfriend’s parents to like you.

#derek hale x reader #derek hale imagine #teen wolf imagines #derek hale #derek hale x you #teen wolf

147 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

https://wiypt-writes.tumblr.com/post/644486634874847232/stark-spangled-banner

Ch58: You Have To Go Through The Worst, To Get To The Best.

Intro: In the aftermath of the battle, Katie grieves for Tony as the world comes to terms with the fact that people they lost five years ago have reappeared.

Warnings: “Language!”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: This is it! We head into the last part and as such, a brand new banner again from @angrybirdcr. Only a few chapters left.

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 57

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Sorry for your loss.

Four words that Katie was already sick of hearing. Sorry. What did people have to be sorry for? It wasn’t like it was their fault. Still, she acknowledged the sympathy that came her way, completely automatically, almost emotionlessly. She barely registered the fact she had spoken to Fury and Hill, two people who had been dead five years ago, she didn’t have the energy to wish she could knock Ross’ head off his shoulders and had no idea how long she had walked what was left of the compound, maybe an hour or so? Who cared anyway? She simply did what people asked her to do to help out, whilst Steve hurried around organising everyone and barking orders.

Nevertheless, when the crowds of Emergency Services, Armed Forces and Support Staff that had flooded the Compound left, she suddenly felt alone and found herself in their compound apartment, which had miraculously survived bar from a smashed window in the living area. She glanced around before she headed to the bedroom and slumped heavily on the large bed, staring at the wall.

Just staring.

It was quiet, but her mind was anything but. Her brain was screaming all sorts of stuff at her, a jumble of words and sounds and visions, but she couldn’t really understand any of it.

She simply felt broken.

“Katie?”

A voice broke through her reverie and she looked up to see Steve in the doorway.

“Hey.” She gave him a soft smile. “Pepper just spoke to Happy, the kids are fine. All three are fast asleep. He’s going to wake them in a few hours and bring them back.” “No.” Katie shook her head. “I want him to bring them now.” “Honey its almost two am.” He said, and Katie frowned. Okay, so she’d been walking around a little longer than she thought, then. “Let them sleep. We can go, get cleaned up and…” “Plan how we tell them their Uncle is dead.” She swallowed, gazing back down at her hands.

Steve took a shaky breath. He felt beyond guilty. Guilty that he got to go home to his kids because of the fact that Tony didn’t. Steeling himself, he made his way to the bed, sat down next to his wife and wrapped his arm around her as she lay her head on his shoulder.

“What’s everyone doing?” She asked softly.

“Rhodey is in with Ross and President Ellis…” “Ellis is here?” She looked at him, frowning.

Steve nodded. “Rhodey’s giving him a brief on what’s happened. They’re gonna need to put an announcement out so…”

“Suppose it was probably a shock everyone re-appearing again.” She reasoned, quietly. “What about everyone else?”

“Well Lang, Parker and Bruce already left.” Steve explained as his hand gently rubbed up and down her arm. “And there’s a chopper on the way to take Pepper home and a couple more following to take the rest of us to the Tower. The roads are completely jammed, apparently there’s impromptu parties taking place all over. Might be a while before we can get back through to Brooklyn.” The thought of partying seemed alien to Katie, but as she thought about it, it wasn’t surprising. People would be greeting lost loved ones, celebrating the fact the world has returned to normal.

For them anyway.

“Clint will want to go home.” Katie nodded. “He’ll be desperate to see Laura and the kids.” “We’ve got a jet on the way for him so he can go as soon as possible.” Steve soothed, dropping a kiss to her head.

If ever Katie was grateful for having a husband with Military organisational skills it was now. He’d literally thought of everything. She closed her eyes and nuzzled into him even more, seeking out comfort like a child, before Steve reached around and pulled her onto his lap, holding her close to him, as they sat in silence.

****

“I guess this is strange for you too, huh?” Steve said as they made their way into the Tower. “Yeah you could say that.” Sam shrugged, “One minute everyone was in Wakanda and then the next minute it was just us, and the jungle had changed.” He paused, scratching his head. “Then that Strange dude turns up and tells us it’s been five years and we needed to go fight one last time.”

“Has it really been that long?” Bucky asked and Steve nodded. “So now you’re older than me?” He grinned. Steve chuckled as Katie gave a small smile. “Shut up.”

They made their way into the elevator and FRIDAY greeted them, somewhat forlornly, as Katie asked for their floor. The elevator fell silent as it scooted upwards, pinging open. Katie stepped out first, followed by Wanda then the men.

“So, where do you want-“Bucky began but he stopped dead causing Sam to bump into him.

“What the hell, Frosty?” he spluttered, frowning as he followed Bucky’s eye line, his own eyes growing wide as he saw what Bucky was staring at. Wanda was also gazing, her mouth open, and Steve immediately knew what they were looking at- the large framed photo on the wall in the living room.

Even though their home was in Brooklyn this was still very much their apartment. Katie sometimes stayed if she had a big meeting, or on occasions they would crash here when they grabbed a rare night out in Manhattan. And it was for that reason that the photos in the apartment had been updated over the past five years as their lives had moved on. The wall their friends were gazing at contained two prints. The first was one taken by Katie at the hospital when Jamie was hours old, the same photo also adorned the wall in the lounge at home and it showed Steve asleep in the chair by her hospital bed, hair unkempt, shirt crumbled, stubble on his chin as his baby son was clutched to his chest as they both slept. He remembered the moment like it was yesterday, one snapshot moment out of God knows how many, all of which the three people stood in front of him had missed.

The second was from last year, and showed Emmy with Alex as they sat on the sofa at home, both grinning at the camera.

“You…” Sam gasped as Wanda and Bucky turned to them, mouth hanging open.

Steve nodded, “Yeh, err, did no one tell you?” He asked, rubbing his neck.

“No.” Bucky breathed.

“But then it never really cropped up in conversation, you know, on account of us being in the middle of a battle and all.” Sam said, a little sarcastically and Wanda thumped his arm before she turned to Katie.

“How old?” She asked softly.

“Emily is sixteen next week.” Katie said, looking at the photos smiling softly. “We adopted her after the snap, it’s a long story.”

She then looked at Steve who smiled, knowing she was allowing him the task of revealing their boy’s name to two of the men he was named after.

“And Jamie’s three.” He turned to look at Bucky and Sam.

“Jamie?” Bucky asked thickly.

“Or to give him his full name James Anthony Samuel.”

Bucky and Sam exchanged a look, the pair of them floundering for words.

“Cap,” Sam swallowed, his eyes misting over. “Wow, I’m so happy for you guys.” “I can’t wait to meet them.” Wanda beamed.

“You might regret saying that.” Steve chuckled. “Emmy’s a sass bag and Jamie can be a handful. He’s only three but he’s stubborn, opinionated- don’t even say it.” He pointed at Bucky who had opened his mouth to comment, a grin spreading across his handsome face.

“They’re awesome.” Katie spoke softly as her eyes moved round the apartment and fell on a photo of her and Tony taken at her wedding. Suddenly she couldn’t be there anymore. Excusing herself she headed into their bedroom where she flopped onto the bed, now feeling utterly overwhelmed, still struggling to make head or tail of her emotions. She should have been celebrating like everyone else in the streets was doing. Their friends and trillions of other people were saved, but she couldn’t because again, just like the other week when they had grieved for Natasha, there was one person who wasn’t coming back.

Her brother.

Taking a deep breath, she shed her boots before she stood up and peeled off her cat suit before she made her way straight into the en-suite.

She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand, an attempt to sooth the pain she now felt in every inch of her body. But whilst some of it was bruising from the multiple blows she had taken, some of it was coming from inside. The pain of losing her brother was physical, and hard. Closing her eyes she lay her head against the tiles, allowing the water to beat down on her, lost in her memories. “I got full marks on my English essay Tone!” Her 10 year old self grinned up at him as he leaned against the car, looking as effortlessly cool as ever.

“Get you, you little brainbox!” He ruffled her hair. “That’s awesome, so awesome in fact I think we need to stop for pizza and a shit load of ice cream on the way home. Sound good?” “You’re the best!” She beamed as he took her pink back-pack off her and dropped it into the trunk as she climbed into the passenger seat of his BWM.

“Oh no, you are not going out wearing that!” Tony stod up as she walked into the living room of the house. Sixteen year old Katie rolled her eyes.

“Tone its boiling hot outside, what you want me to wear? A pair of jeans and a fucking coat?” “Anything but that!” He scoffed, looking at the rather short denim skirt. “Young Lady, I can see what you had for breakfast!”

“Oh bite me, Tony.” She shot back, hearing the guffaw that Rhodey gave out from the sofa before she shot out of the front door to greet her boyfriend who had just pulled up the drive.

She was eighteen…, cruising along the cliff in Malibu, laughing, her hands on the steering wheel of her convertible bug, Tony in the passenger seat sipping an iced tea as the pair of them sang as loudly as they could to Drops of Jupiter- their song.

“Mr Rock and Roll over there, listen to you!” She laughed as the song finished and it changed to AC/DC ‘Thunder’.

“If you ever tell anyone about my love of Train I will kill you.” Tony looked at her over his sunglasses and she snorted, grinning.

“I’m so telling Pepper.”

“Err you know I can still pull my funding.” He glared “You can kiss goodbye to going to Oxford…”

And speaking of Oxford, at twenty-one, she was there, accepting her first class honours in English Literature and Mythology. As she smiled for the camera, she could see Tony stood up in the middle of the hall, whistling before he punched the air. “That’s my girl!” He yelled “Katie Maria Stark. That’s my girl! No I won’t sit down…what did you just say?” And he began arguing with the person behind him.

At twenty-six she was crying, tears of happiness as the ramp on the aircraft carrier opened to reveal her brother. His hair was longer, he looked thinner but he was alive. He was barely at the bottom before she flung herself at him, not caring that his arm was a sling.

“Hey Kiddo.” He said softly as she buried her face into his neck.

“You fucking asshole!” She sobbed, “Next time, you ride with Rhodey, you got that?”

“Trust me, there will be no next time.” He chuckled as she pulled back. “Afghanistan is a shit hole.”

A year later she was crying again, sobbing even, as Tony sat with his arms around her, gently shushing her as she sat up in her bed. “How could he do that to me Tony?” She sniffed, her tears dampening her brother’s t-shirt as he rubbed her back, laying his head against hers. “I thought he loved me…but…” “He isn’t worth your tears, Kiddo.” He sighed “Grant Ward doesn’t deserve them, or you. No one ever will, you got that? No one will ever be good enough for you.”

And then she was walking up the aisle towards her future husband, her arm linked tightly around Tony’s. He pressed a kiss to her head.

“Remember, just because I’m giving you away doesn’t mean I won’t kick his ass if he ever hurts you.” Tony mumbled and she snorted, turning to look at him. “I love you to the stars and back, Katie, remember that…”

Like she could ever forget. Tony hadn’t been to everyone’s taste, hell, at times he hadn’t be hers, and they’d been estranged for two years. But Katie had never, not once, stopped loving the man who had brought her up as his own. Her brother and father all rolled into one.

She finished washing her hair and stepped out of the shower, the tears still not arriving. She began to wonder if there was something wrong with her. She’d cried more when Natasha died. She pulled on a towel robe that was hanging behind the door and began to dry her hair, squeezing the water out of the long strands.

“I remember when you used to do that for me.” She grinned, watching Tony as he sat with Morgan between his legs on the lounger round the pool at her Brooklyn home, rubbing the little girl’s wet hair ferociously with a pink beach towel, making the three year old cackle with laughter. I remember…but Morgan won’t.

And then the cry ripped from her chest, like someone had reached down her throat and pulled it from the very depths of her heart.

***** Steve made sure the guys were settled in a spare apartment a few floors down, the three of them opting to share, none of them particularly wanting to be alone. Making his way back into theirs, he headed straight to the bedroom and heard Katie turn off the water to the shower. With a groan he stripped off the top half of his uniform, dropping the grubby item to the bed. His eyes were drawn to the silver star in the middle, and he ran his fingers over it, the material torn in places having seen better days, much like him.

With a deep breath he reached to pull off his compression shirt, but before he got chance, he heard a noise from the bathroom, a primal, raw, broken scream that chilled his every bone. Quick as flash he crossed the room and pushed open the door to the en-suite and found his wife slumped on her knees on the floor, screaming and crying uncontrollably.

“He’s gone! He’s gone, he’s gone!” Steve had known this was coming and it broke his heart that he could do nothing to help, nothing to take away the utter desperation and pain and anger his wife was feeling. Without hesitation he dropped to his knees and she turned to him, fisting her hands around his top as he pulled her close, one arm round her back, the other in her hair.

“Let it out,” his voice was croaky as he rocked her, gently stroking her hair as his cheek pressed against the top of her head, “I got you, sweetheart, I got you.” How long they stayed there for, with Katie screaming and crying over the soft sounds of his soothing, Steve had no idea, but eventually her sobs became sniffles as she regained some form of composure.

“Steve,” she managed to stutter as she pulled back to look at him, “Tony’s gone, he’s gone, why? Why did he have to do that? There had to be some other way!” “Oh, Doll.” Steve’s voice cracked, his own heart ached with grief and sympathy and love as he dropped a kiss to her forehead, pulling her onto his lap as he sat back on the floor, making no attempts to move her. He buried his face into her hair, his own sobs catching in his throat.

“All my life Tony has been there.” She whispered gently as kissed her head. “Even when we were apart those years I knew that if I needed him, he would be there…but now…he’s gone and I don’t know what to do.”

“You do what you always do.” Steve whispered softly as he pulled back, cupping her face in his hands, wiping her tears with his thumbs. “You get up, you dust yourself off and you act like the amazing, strong, beautiful woman you are. My wife, my baby momma.”

“I don’t know if I can. Katie spluttered.

“Yes, you can. You’re the strongest person I know.” He implored her, sniffing a little.

“I don’t feel strong.”

“You won’t.” He shook his head. “Not yet. But I’m here. Okay? And we’ll do it together.”

Katie looked at him for a moment before she moved once more to bury her face into his t-shirt again, simply breathed him in. His warmth and familiar smell, even if he wasn’t as fresh as he could be after the exertion of battle, was a comfort, a balm to her broken soul.

Tony was gone, she knew that, but she wasn’t on her own. She’d never be on her own as long as she had Steve.

****

“Don’t be sad Momma.” Jamie whispered, as Katie’s tears tickled down her cheeks, her son on her lap. TO her right, Emmy sat on her father’s, despite her age meaning she was normally way past that stage, as she cried into his chest, his arms gently cradling her. “Uncle Nee isn’t on his own.” “What do you mean, baby?” Katie asked, sniffing as he played with a strand of her hair.

He looked at her with his baby blue eyes and shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “Because he’s with Auntie Nat-Nat.”

“Yeah,” Katie stuttered, a soft sob escaping her. “You’re right. But I’m still sad, but you don’t need to be worried about that okay?” Jamie nodded, before he blinked and frowned. “I can kiss it better, like you kiss my ouches better.”

Katie smiled as he leaned up, connecting his lips to hers with a loud smacking noise.

“That’s it, you just made it all okay.” She smiled, wiping her eyes.

“When can we go home?” Emmy asked, sitting up slightly, her voice croaky.

“Soon, I promise.” Steve looked at her. “I think we’ll stay here for tonight, your mom and I both need a rest.”

Emmy nodded “I expect kicking alien butt for hours takes it out of you.” Steve snorted. “A little.” “You did it though. Everyone came back.” “Yeah, and on that note,” Katie picked up, “we have some people we’d like you to meet. That’s if you’re feeling up to it.” “Is it them? Bucky, Sam and Wanda?” Emmy asked, her wet brown eyes opening wide.

“Yeah.” Steve smiled. “And, if it’s ok with you, we thought we could all have breakfast together.”

“Pancakes?” Jamie asked hopefully and Katie nodded, dropping a kiss to his head.

“Pancakes” She affirmed.

“Now?”

“Do you ever think about anything but this?” Katie chuckled, prodding his tummy. He pondered for a second.

“Legos.” he said, nodding. “I think about my legos sometime.”

Emmy snorted and Steve let out a little laugh “Pancakes and legos eh, son?” he reached out and ruffled Jamie’s hair. “What more could a three year old want?”

****

Manhattan was in utter chaos and going out in public was the last thing Steve or Katie wanted for fear of being mobbed. However, the kitchens in the tower were well stocked and after sending Emmy to forage what she could, it was easy for Katie to whip up a batch of batter and throw some bacon into a pan.

She set Emmy to work chopping some fruit, and never one to miss out, she stood Jamie on a chair in front of her and gently guided his hand as he held the whisk to stir the batter. Katie was literally grabbing the ladle to drop the first load into the pan, when the door to the apartment opened and Steve’s voice carried in to the kitchen.

“Hey guys?” Jamie squealed in excitement and Katie moved so he could get down. He shot out of the kitchen, barrelling into the lounge where he skidded to a halt by his dad and gazed up at the three strange adults in front of him.

The first thing that hit Bucky was just how like Steve the little boy was. Stocky, bright blue eyes and a shock of dark blonde hair.

“He looks like you.” He smiled, nodding to Steve as Katie stepped into the room with Emmy and smiled.

“Jamie, Emmy, this is Bucky, Sam and Wanda.” Steve introduced them all, as Emmy raised her hand shyly in greeting.

Meanwhile, Jamie simply gazed up at Bucky, his attention focussed directly on his metal arm and Bucky suddenly began to worry that it would scare him. He was attempting to move it out of view by standing side on, until Jamie stepped forward with all his usual boldness and pointed.

“Is that metal?” “Jamie.” Steve spoke, his tone soft. He couldn’t scald his son for being curious, but at the same time he had seen the apprehension in Bucky’s eyes. Apprehension that had now turned to amusement.

“Yeah it is.” Bucky chuckled, crouching down so he was eye level with his namesake. He held his left hand up, wiggling the fingers. “Wanna touch it?” Jamie reached out and placed his palm against Bucky’s prosthetic and grinned, “Cool,” before he looked up at Steve. “Can I have one?”

“Absolutely not.” Steve shook his head with a grin.

“You think that’s cool you should see my wings.” Sam crouched down next to Bucky, smiling at Jamie.

“You have wings?” The little boy’s eyes grew wide “I want…”

“No!”

“Fine I’ll just ask Santa.” Jamie shruggged and Sam let out a loud laugh.

“I like this kid!” he grinned, standing up.

“You can have him.” Steve winked, as Bucky stood up straight and grinned. “Saves us sending him to The Children’s Prison.” “Morgan told me there’s no such place.” Jamie looked at his Dad and Steve let out a sigh. The threat of the Child Prison was their biggest bargaining chip when he was being naughty. Especially as the naughty step wasn’t an option, because the first (and last) time they tried that they caught him climbing up the staircase and sliding down the bannister.

“I told you titch, it does.” Emmy gave a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I lived there before mom and dad adopted me. And all they give you to eat all day is slugs and slime…” Steve shared a look with Bucky and let out a loud laugh.

“Don’t.” Bucky shook his head with a grin.

“You gave Becca nightmares for days with that story!” Steve laughed as he recalled Bucky telling his sister about a hole in the ground where bad kids went. “She wouldn’t go near a manhole for months!”

“I can still feel the blow round the ears my Pa gave me.” Bucky automatically reached up to rub at the back of his head. The well natured chatter continued as they made their way into the kitchen. Steve went to brew the coffee as Sam, Wanda and Bucky took seats round the table with the kids. Occasionally he caught the odd snippet of their chat as Jamie told Bucky about his toys at home, informed Sam all about his friend at day-care, whilst Emmy was busy talking to Wanda about school and what she wanted to do in the future. But all the time Steve had one eye on his wife as she stood, silently, cooking enough pancakes to feed a small army.

Which, to be fair, was probably what they would need with two super soldiers and a hungry three year old to feed.

Moving over towards her, he slipped his arms around her waist and dropped a kiss to her cheek.

“You ok?” He asked, before he sighed “Sorry, stupid question.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “No it’s not stupid, I know what you meant. And honestly, no. I’m not. Not really. But I will be, in time. I hope.”

Steve dropped another kiss to her cheek and winced as a loud “GET A ROOM!” sounded across the kitchen and he turned to glare at his son. Bucky and Sam exchanged a gleeful look as Steve raised his hand and pointed at Emmy accusingly. “That was not me!” She scoffed, indignantly “It was Bucky that told him to say it.” “If this is the impression you have on my kids after all of fifteen minutes, James Buchanan Barnes, then I’m going to have to seriously consider letting you near them again.” Katie shook her head as she dropped the plate of pancakes into the middle of the table.

“Why did you just call him James?” Jamie asked, frowning

“Because my name is James too.” Bucky answered for Katie.

“No, it’s Bucky.”

“He only gets called James when he’s been bad, bit like you, pal.” Steve chuckled, placing Jamie’s plate of food in front of him. “Now eat that, and then you can show Buck your legos.”

“My legos are here?” Jamie said, grinning.

“Yeah they’re in your bag, we brought them from the compound.” Steve answered, dropping a kiss to his son’s head.

“What the hell is a Lego?” Bucky asked, his face contorted in confusion. The room feel silent as all eyes turned to the man who glanced around, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “What?” ****

Rhodey called later that morning to give them a heads up that the President would be addressing the nation later that afternoon, and to also inform Katie that they were talking about honouring both Tony and Natasha posthumously. Katie had merely snorted, not entirely sure what Tony would have said about any of that, until Rhodey made her laugh about the last time he had received an honour, getting stabbed with the pin by the Senator awarding it to him, Senator Stern.

Who had turned out to be HYDRA.

True to his word, just as he had done five years ago, President Ellis’ address rang out across the nation at precisely three that afternoon, on every TV and Radio channel there was.

“I know there is much speculation surrounding the events of the last 24 hours, and it is for that reason I find myself addressing you all once more, with regards to the Decimation. Only this time I am happy to greet you all with much better news. Thanks to the brave actions of the Avengers and countless others who fought in a ferocious battle Upstate, the Vanished have been returned to us in the same state in which they left.

But it isn’t without cost.

Unfortunately, I have the very sad job of confirming to you all that the rumours are true. Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff both lost their lives in the mission to bring everyone back. My sincere condolences and thoughts are with the rest of the Avengers, in particular the Rogers and Stark families, and I’m sure I speak for the entire world when I say we will be forever indebted to the two fallen heroes for their brave sacrifices which ensured that friends and families across the globe could be reunited.”

Katie glanced down at her hands as she took a deep breath, the tears falling into her lap as Steve’s arm curled round her shoulder, sniffing a little as his own eyes were once again misted over.

“I know you will all have many questions, some of you will be at a loss as to what to do, and unfortunately I don’t have all the answers, so it is for that reason, if I may, I’d like to address those who have been returned to us.

Over the past five years the world has become a very different place to the one you knew. People lost entire families, friends, husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends. We had to rebuild, make sense of living without you. So I ask you , please be patient with us whilst we try once more to make sense of events, only this time they are a lot happier as you have all been returned to us. Don’t take it too personally if we seem a little, well, astounded.”

Ellis paused, wiping his eyes as he smiled, licking his lips.

“Thank you all, God Bless America, and God Bless the Avengers.”

****

That night fireworks exploded across the skies all over the country. The current occupants of the tower sat on the roof watching the symphony of colours and explosions as it light up the Manhattan sky-line, Jamie opting to sit on Bucky’s knee instead of his father’s, because of course Bucky was now his favourite person on the planet.

But Steve didn’t mind, well, not too much anyway.

The next few days passed them by in a bit of a blur. They moved back to the house in Brooklyn. Sam and Bucky came with them. However, surprisingly to Steve (but not to Katie) Wanda opted to head to Clint’s after the archer called and offered her a room. Steve’s time was divided between speaking to the UN, various people in the senate and government alongside Rhodey as they started to make plans to help those people who had returned because reversing the snap had raised a whole cacophony of different problems, just as Tony had predicted it would.

Some of the vanished had come back to find their wives or husbands had re-married. Others found themselves with no-one left as they’d passed away. Some found themselves homeless as new occupants had moved into their apartments which had been left vacant. Two of those people were Peter Parker and his Aunt May, who were now residing in the Tower until Katie could find them somewhere permanent.

And then there were the kids who had been adopted, suddenly finding themselves with two sets of parents.

Katie, on the other hand, had no time or energy for anything other than planning Tony’s funeral with Pepper, and a service of sorts for Natasha with Clint. Natasha’s was to take place first, a small ceremony at Clint’s farm where they would be planting a red maple tree in her honour. Tony’s, however, was slightly more tricky.

Her brother had, at one point, led a very public lifestyle and naturally (even if unfairly) he was attracting the most public interest. They’d been approached by President Ellis, who had asked if they would be open to a full, state public funeral. Katie had been horrified at first, until Pepper had snorted and reminded her that the Old Tony would have loved the attention and fuss.

But New Tony wouldn’t.

Which was why, in the end, they compromised and chose to celebrate the two sides to Tony’s huge personality.

For the Genius, Billionaire, Play-Boy, Philanthropist they would hold a service at St Patrick’s Cathedral and for the husband, father, brother, friend they would then hold a more intimate wake at the lake house, where his ashes would be scattered eventually.

It was draining, emotionally and physically, so it was no surprise to Steve that Katie was constantly tired and a little irritable and the Solider felt the harsh side of her tongue on more than one occasion. But he never bit back, he knew how she was feeling. He’d had to do it with his Ma. Instead he listened to her bounce ideas off him, helped with the organisation where he could, and simply comforted her, holding her close whilst she cried when she needed to.

A week post the return of the Vanished, people seemed to have reached a half-way point, so to speak, between what they had been like before the Snap and what they had become post. But what was noticeable to all of them was that they were persistently mobbed in the street, people wanting to thank them constantly.

Jamie found the whole thing hilarious, waving to people as he walked with his Father one morning to the play-ground. Steve, however, after half an hour had returned home because he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“It’s mad.” He shook his head with a sigh, flopping onto the sofa next to her. “I mean…”

“It’ll die down.” Katie yawned. “Just gonna take a while. People still don’t know what to do. Hell, half the time I don’t know what to do.” She took a deep breath, the back of her hand pressing to her mouth as a queasy feeling washed over her for the umpteenth time that day. “You still feeling crappy?” Steve asked, watching as Jamie sat on the rug with his trucks.

“A little.”

“You thrown up again?” “No.” She shook her head “I don’t feel sick anymore just a little funny, drained almost. I don’t think it’s anything serious. Probably just the stress of all the organising and stuff.”

But as she said the words something in her mind clicked and she sat bolt upright, Steve giving her a curious look.

“What’s wrong?”

“Bruce’s Snap.” She whispered. “The one where he brought everyone back.”

“What about it?”

“What if it brought everyone back?” “Well we know it did…” Steve frowned, not following her line of thought.

“No I mean,” Katie took his hand and placed it on her stomach, “everyone.”

It took Steve a second to cotton on, but when he did he blinked, looking into his wife’s eyes, a faint buzzing ringing in his ears.

“Shit.” He spluttered out.

“Language.” Jamie reprimanded him almost immediately, but both parents ignored him.

“I didn’t,” Steve swallowed, “I mean, I didn’t even consider that a possibility. Do you think it has?”

Katie took a deep breath. “I dunno, I mean the first snap took it away…”

They stayed still for a moment, simply looking at each other, both thinking the same. If one snap had taken their baby, the second snap could quite as easily have brought it back.

“I think I need to go to the store.” Katie muttered.

**** Less than an hour later husband and wife were stood in the bathroom looking down. Down at four different tests. Four different tests that all told them the same thing.

“I can’t believe it.” Steve whispered, his arms wrapping around his wife from behind as he stared down at the test in her hand.

“Me neither.” She whispered, turning to face him, tears in her eyes.

“I’m gonna be a daddy, again.” His hands fell to her hips, blue eyes shining as she gave him a smile, the tears falling down her face.

“And I’m gonna be fat again.” She spluttered, a watery laugh. There was a pause, before Steve’s face cracked into a huge grin and he pulled her to him. She wrapped her arms round his neck and he hugged her close, the pair of them laughing through their tears.

“I like you fat with my kid.” Steve pulled away, wiping the tears that were trickling down her face with his thumbs. She smiled and returned the gesture, brushing the back of her hand over his wet cheeks.

“I love you. So fucking much.” He whispered softly as he dropped a kiss to her lips.

“I love you too.” Her voice croaked before Steve pulled her close once more, his huge arms holding her tightly to him, as he breathed her in, his face pressing into her hair.

And for the first time in a week, Katie’s heart felt a little less broken.

**** Chapter 59

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

65 notes · View notes

stetervault · 5 years

Note

Hey buddy, do you have any favorite can div steter fics x

Lmao I actually couldn’t figure out what can div meant when I saw this ask last night and it was bugging me so much, and then I went to bed and woke up this morning and literally my first thought was OH canon divergence.

So ok here are some off the top of my head:

steel bars and blood-slick hands by Corpium

When Deaton whisks Peter’s burnt, gasping body away to Eichen House, everyone else pays the price, Stiles most of all.

drowning in the sea of you by Corpium

Beacon Hills was perfect for Stiles growing up, but now, with werewolves, hunters, and an anxious best friend running around, it’s turning into a place too chaotic for an empath like Stiles to handle alone. And pain killers can only go so far.

Chances by Corpium

Claudia is still alive (and sick) when Stiles and Scott search for a body in the woods.

Tremors by Corpium

(Stiles has a taste for him now. All Peter needs to do is wait.)

Lucky Penny (Tastes Like Copper on Your Tongue) by pibroch (littleblackdog)

When Peter woke up, he spent a good fifteen or twenty seconds earnestly wishing that whatever had hit him had the courtesy to kill him outright. Because this? This was bullshit.

AKA the time I decided to give Peter all the nice things, but made him get hit by a car first. Like you do.

Sympathy for the Devil by KouriArashi

Stiles gets a job as a hospital orderly and finds himself becoming strangely attached to the catatonic man on the long-term care ward, and finds out that there’s a lot more to Peter Hale than there seems…

this is the wolf by pprfaith

In which Peter watches Stiles, at sixteen, five, seven, always.

Five Times Stiles Pulled One from the Oven (and One Time Somebody Else Did) by Guede

Five times Stiles’ baking changed the course of history in Beacon Hills (and one time somebody stepped up for him). Or, Stiles Stilinski: Baking is Magic!

The Devil You Know by Twisted_Mind

He’s so tired, in every way it’s possible to be tired. He tried going for a walk tonight to prevent a panic attack, and ended up being rescued, dazed and bleeding, by Peter Hale. There are so many things wrong with that sentence he doesn’t even know where to start. Panic attacks. Being stuck inside his brain sucking so hard he needed to be alone and moving. The sense of relief that came with crashing into Peter.He shouldn’t be okay with this. He didn’t give Peter permission to sleep in his bed. His dad will be home soon. Peter’s more than a decade older than him. Peter can’t be trusted.

But he’s tired, and this feels so, so good.

Into the Sea of Waking Dreams by Green

“Nothing is happening to me,” Stiles says slowly.

“You’ve been acting weird,” Derek says.

I’m being haunted by my dead mate, Stiles wants to say, but he swears he can hear Peter humming. If it’s not real, he doesn’t want to know.

(S2 AU in which Peter haunts Stiles instead of Lydia.)

For Great Justice! by Green

Stiles is a vengeance demon, drawn to Peter just as he’s waking from his catatonia.

“Whoever did this? We will make those fuckers suffer. I promise you.”

We are Who We Choose to Follow by kiranightshade

The road is dark. Stiles is maybe a little suicidal. But maybe there’s someone left to live for after all.

Going Through Hell (Your Heart in My Hands) by Ceris_Malfoy

There’s a reason Stiles always knows things he really, really shouldn’t. There’s a reason why Peter respected his choice all those months ago. There’s a part of Stiles he hides from everyone, even himself.

And then this Darach comes and steals the center of his world right out from under him, and nothing will ever be the same.

Especially not for Peter Hale.

The Choices We Make by Therapeutic_Steter

“You’re quite the clever one, aren’t you?” Peter mused, voice like honey.

“I like to think so.“

“What’s your name?”

“Stiles.”

Peter smiled slowly, looking like a cat that just caught the canary. “Well hello, Stiles,” he purred, eyes flashing a bloody red.

Stiles grinned victoriously. Viciously.

The hunt was on.

Once Upon a Dream by Ragga

It was like the door was on fire.

Stiles stood there, staring. As the realization sunk in, he slowly reached for the doorknob. He grabbed it. It burned, as if blazing hot and freezing cold at the same time. He was stuck, fascinated, and then the door clicked-

-and he was blasted with rage and grief so powerful the next thing he saw was the ceiling of his room.

Who was that?

Bite by wynnebat

“I don’t want to be like you,” Stiles says, but in some ways he already is. In other ways, they only become similar as the years pass.

At Home in the Ash by thegirlwhoknits

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you. Whoever did this, they killed my only family, too.”

Climbing up onto the bed, she lays her head on his shoulder and moves his hand to rest over her heart. “You need a pack, right? Maybe…maybe I can be your pack, and you can be my family. I’ll help you get better, and then you can help me kill them.”

From Ashes Rebuilt by ambersagen

“You shouldn’t be alive,” Stiles finally admitted. He sounded sorry, smelled like anxiety and hunched in on himself as he fell back from Peter to land in the dented chair. “I heard the doctors telling your niece. She wasn’t quiet about it, and no one cares if I’m around anyway so I heard the whole thing, about your burns. I snuck in to see you.”

“Like a sideshow freak,” Peter sneered, starting to understand.

“Like a miracle,” Stiles corrected.

Into Eden by GracieBirdie

Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he’d hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn’t turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

Too Much Of A Good Thing by GracieBirdie

Stiles can’t just leave Boyd and Erica chained up in a hunter’s basement, and if the only person willing to listen to him when he asks for help is a formerly dead psychopath? Well, Stiles supposes he could do worse. But of course nothing in Stiles’ life is ever just that simple…

All The Things We’d Do by GracieBirdie

Stiles’ time travel spell doesn’t work out quite right but he figures he should make the best of it, starting with Laura Hale.

Our Skin, Our Bones, Our Silent Poems by taylorpotato

Peter is a Deaf werewolf. Stiles is a CODA (Child of a Deaf Adult). They’re a kind of unlikely pair. But sometimes things you wouldn’t think of as a good combination, end up turning out to be the perfect combination, you know?

What it Means by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“Do you think I don’t know what a bite on the wrist means??”

Peter had not, in fact, thought that Stiles would know what it means, but he wasn’t about to let him know that.

The Chasm and the Clash by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

Stiles has dreams of the Alpha after he dies. It makes no sense. He didn’t know Peter before… did he?

Did Peter know him?

And why does his head hurt so much?

Everything You Deserve by Areiton

You think about it. More than you should, you think about it. About what would have happened, if you had bitten Stiles instead of Scott.

Waiting for Pack by DiscontentedWinter, hisaribi

This isn’t the first time Stiles has woken up in a different world.This isn’t the first time that Peter has been caught in a place where time doesn’t exist.Except this time they have each other.

Save Me by DiscontentedWinter

Peter is the Alpha.He’s nobody’s savior.Not his pack’s. Not his town’s. And not that kid’s.But sometimes salvation goes both ways.

With Great Power by Triangulum

Stiles has known what he is since birth (and before, really), though his father doesn’t. He thinks his mother suspected, had an idea that her son wasn’t really her son. She was perceptive that way, and Stiles wonders if she maybe had a touch of magic. He thinks that’s why when her disease seized her, she screamed that he was evil, that he was trying to kill her. That he wasn’t really hers. Everyone had chalked it up to the dementia getting worse, but Stiles wonders how much of it was her being unable to contain her suspicions and letting them run wild. Once Claudia dies, Stiles is truly the only one who knows he’s other. That is, until Peter.

Razor Edge of Danger by Triangulum

It starts with Gerard. After the clusterfuck of Stiles crashing into the kanima with his jeep, Jackson’s ‘death’ and werewolf resurrection, Lydia and Jackson go off together, Scott goes after Allison, and Derek, broken and hurt from yet another betrayal and use of his body against his will, takes Isaac and leaves, unable to look at any of them. That leaves Stiles standing next to his battered jeep, arms wrapped around his aching ribs. No one so much as looks his way. Except for Peter.

#teen wolf #steter #fanfic rec #canon divergence #ask #anonymous #rec list

260 notes · View notes

ahtohallan-calling · 4 years

Text

what makes up love | a fluffy kristanna modern au one shot | rated t, 1.7k

Kristoff Bjorgman will be the first to admit that he knows hardly anything about love.

Still, even he can recognize that it’s a good sign when the pretty girl from Comp II-- Anna, the A round and full like he’s never heard it said before-- agrees to go on first one date with him, and then another, and now a third. And she was the one who suggested seeing some new horror movie about witches or something, and at first Kristoff had thought she only grabbed onto his hand out of fright, but now they’ve come out of the theater and into the rest of the mall and she still hasn’t let go, and he doesn’t think he’s ever smiled this big.

They’re wandering in the general direction of an escalator, exchanging commentary on the movie and whether it was as good as the first five in the franchise, when Anna comes to a sudden halt. “Oh! I forgot I had a Sephora gift card, I…”

She bites her bottom lip, and if he wasn’t already dying to kiss her by now-- well. “Do you mind if I run in? You can wait out here if you want.”

Kristoff feels his brows pull together. “Do you...not want me to go in with you?”

“No! No, not at all,” she says quickly, and now both of her hands are on his. “It’s just...I don’t know. I heard people say before their boyfriends don’t like to go in there.”

Boyfriend-- they haven’t talked about that yet, but both of them blush. “I don’t mind,” Kristoff assures her. “I mean, I just care about hanging out with you. Doesn’t really matter where.”

She lights up as if he’s just promised to take a trip to Pluto and come back with an armful of stars for her. “I’ll be fast,” she insists as she leads him in, her fingers still clasped tightly around his.

Eventually she does let go so she can touch some glittery stuff and rub it on the back of her hand, concentrating hard on it. Kristoff considers asking her if it’s really supposed to go there before thinking better of it and letting his gaze wander around the rest of the store.

He accidentally makes eye contact with the only other man in there, who nods in the direction of a woman Kristoff assumes is his wife and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. Kristoff doesn’t break eye contact with the man as he says, “Hey, Anna?”

“Yeah?” she asks, turning around and peering up at him.

“I think you should get...that one,” he says, finally glancing down to jab his finger at a row of lipsticks. “It would be really pretty on you.”

She beams. “Do you really think I could pull that color red off?”

“You could pull anything off.”

A moment later, there’s a slight pressure on his shoulder; he glances down just in time to see her using it to keep her balance to rise up on her tiptoes and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re sweet,” she says, her eyes shining. “But that one’s sixty dollars.”

“Oh,” he says, feeling stupid until she takes his hand again and leads him right past the other man, just in time for Kristoff to hear him say, “Hey, honey, what about that one?”

---

Three months in, there’s still a hell of a lot for Kristoff to learn about love-- namely, if it’s still too soon for him to tell her how he feels-- but he’s proud to say he’s already sort of starting to become an expert on all things Anna. Her favorite fruit is strawberries, her favorite class this semester is Painting I even though she’s never really done art before, and she goes to yoga once a week with her sister even though she always gets the giggles and everyone glares at her. She’s a Cancer and an elementary ed major and she lived in Norway until she was fifteen. That’s when, he found out on date number six, her parents died suddenly; her sister had just started school at the university, full ride scholarship on track for med school, and so Anna had packed her things and joined her, and they’d lived together in a little yellow rented house ever since.

(“Sorry to be a downer,” she had said sheepishly after explaining how she’d ended up here.

“Don’t be sorry. I wanna know all about you. And anyway, I’m an orphan too-- well, I was, ‘til I got adopted. So I kinda get it,” he’d explained, and then her eyes had gone all soft and just a little shiny and she’d spent the rest of the night snuggled up against him paying no attention to the notes she was supposed to be studying.)

But there’s one thing he still doesn’t understand.

“Anna,” he says, frowning, as he lets himself in through the front door she leaves unlocked for him every Saturday night, “why do you put that stuff on your face?”

“It’s a face mask!” she says cheerfully.

“Yeah, but...what’s it for?”

“It cleans up all the stuff in your pores.”

“Doesn’t it feel...slimy?” he asked, tilting his head as he tries to understand what makes her so happy about smearing green goop all over her face.

“Kind of. But in a good way. Wanna try it?”

There’s another thing he’s learning about Anna: when she bites her lip like that and struggles to meet his eyes, it’s a chance to do something that’s going to make her really happy even if he doesn’t get why it’s a big deal. And so he shrugs and says, “Sure, why not?”

He does have to admit that the mask does feel pretty good. But what feels even better is Anna’s fingers brushing carefully against his skin as she smears it on, and when she giggles and leaves one spot bare so she can lean in and kiss his cheek, and then she settles herself on his lap and leans back against his chest and says, “Now we wait ten minutes. Whatcha wanna do?”

Thank God this green stuff doesn’t go on his lips.

---

“I have a huge favor to ask,” Anna says breathlessly the moment he lets her in the door to his apartment. “Like, really really really big, and if you say no--”

“Baby, when have I ever said no to you?” he asks, and she pauses just long enough to tug him down by the collar so she can kiss his cheek.

“Okay, yes, true, but this time it’s a really big one.”

“Why don’t you say what it is first, and then I’ll tell you if it’s actually a no or not?”

She bites her lip. “You know how it’s like, her white coat ceremony tomorrow?”

He does; he agreed to go not only because he loves Anna, but because, as it turns out, Elsa might be the only person on campus who loves hockey and cheese fries as much as he does, and now, second only to his roommate-- well, and Anna, obviously-- she’s his best friend.

He nods, and she releases her bottom lip with a sigh. “I told her I’d do her makeup. But then I realized I’ve never done it on another person, and all my friends are busy studying for finals, and I know you are, too, so I’ll be fast, and I promise I won’t like, take pictures or anything, or--”

“Anna,” he interrupts, “are you trying to ask if you can practice makeup on me?”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, so I get it, and if you say yes I super owe you one--”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he says, sitting down in the kitchen chair. “Just make sure we’ve gotten it all off by the time Sven comes home.”

“Is that a yes?” she asks hopefully.

“I mean, considering you kept me stocked up on Gatorade and saltines all last week after I puked in your car...I don’t think I have any room to say no to you right now.”

They both know he wouldn’t say no anyway, especially considering that now he actually sort of looks forward to what Anna calls Spa Dates and he calls “letting you put that stuff on my face and kissing until it’s dry”.

This takes a lot longer than the face masks, and it’s a hell of a lot ticklier. “Kris,” Anna whines when his eyelids keep fluttering. “You gotta hold still so I can do your crease.”

“My what?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m making it beautiful. Or at least I’m trying to.”

He holds his breath, and that seems to help. The mascara she has him do himself-- “so I don’t jab your eye out, ohmygod, how bad would that be?”, which then makes him wonder if he’ll jab his own eye out.

Thankfully, he doesn’t, and she reassures him it was only the eyeshadow she needed to practice, anyway, and so a moment later he’s done. “Oh,” Anna sighs, “that came out better than I expected. Wanna see?”

“I don’t know. Do I?”

She laughs and fumbles through her makeup bag for a mirror. “Here.”

He looks, and while it’s certainly not a look that works for him, he’s pretty sure she did it right, except that the black stuff went past the corner of his eye, is it supposed to do that?

When he says as much, she laughs and laughs until she can’t breathe. “I love you so much,” she gasps, wiping tears out of the corners of her eyes.

He doesn’t really get the joke, but then she thanks him with a kiss and a makeup remover wipe, and he figures it’s best to move past it, especially when he can hear Sven’s keys jingling in the door.

---

He’s seen her now with glitter all over her face, and with bright red lips, and with fake eyelashes that kept falling off, and with Halloween makeup that made her look like a zombie.

But this, he thinks, is when she looks the prettiest.

He scoots closer across the mattress and kisses the tip of her nose. She scrunches it up, and he laughs and kisses it again, and then her cheeks and her forehead and the top of her head until at last she sighs and opens her eyes.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says softly, and the smile she gives him could light up the whole damn world.

----

a/n:

this is something silly i did for mariana, olá mari eu te amo

thanks laura and rhianne and gabi and molly for your help!!

#basically this is 'kristoff lets anna do makeup on him bc he would die for her so some lipstick is nothing'#kristanna #my fics

60 notes · View notes

ascottywrites · 5 years

Text

The Angsty Post

Where Happy Endings come at the slowest of paces.

*Or, you know, sometimes not at all.

Rewriting the future by Synesthetic (Complete: 28/28| 106,631) --Steter

Two days before their planned bonding, alpha Derek Hale runs away with his secret beta girlfriend, leaving Stiles heartbroken. With the demands of his omega physiology forcing him to bond with someone before his first heat, Derek's uncle Peter steps in and offers a solution.

Backstage is Full of Parasites by Falln_Grce (Complete: 14/14| 61,346) --Steter

A little tweak to the Teen Wolf universe where Stiles learned to take care of himself from a young age. And despite going through trauma as a child, he's 17 now and has adjusted to the new normal as well as he can. With a soulmate-AU just to keep things interesting.

What if the Sheriff didn't turn to alcohol when his wife died... What if he focused all of his attention on helping a seven year old, recently removed from an abusive home, Isaac get settled into the Stilinski household... Where would Stiles fit into that world?

How I Long For Yesterday by sweetbutterbliss (One-shot| 6,017) --Sterek

Stiles blinks, his throat going dry, and he moves his thumb without thinking - liking the post. He feels a surge of petty satisfaction. At least the fucker will know he knows now. He stands up, his body feeling too heavy, and he blows out the already guttering candles. He lets out a sob of frustration when the last one won't fucking blow out. But he sucks it back in and bites down on his tongue, using his thumb and forefinger instead.

He throws himself into their empty bed without undressing. He lies there repeating the words 'Derek blew me off for Isaac' over and over. He tells himself to shut up while rearranging his pillow violently, but he goes to sleep with the refrain continuing its painful loop.

You're Not Who I Thought You Were by halcyon1993 (Complete: 21/21| 84,549) --Sterek

Stiles is lonely. The only person who really talks to him is his best friend, and even Scott seems eager to ditch him whenever someone better comes along. Following a stupid decision made late one night, his small world opens up as he discovers things he never before thought possible and he meets a mysterious man who could be the answer to all of his problems.

In Word and in Deed by lielabell (one-shot| 7,778) --Sterek

Stiles has stopped saying "I love you." Derek wants to know why.

(Once in a) Blue Moon by clarkoholic, skywardsmiles (Complete: 14/14| 60,051) --Sterek

Stiles and Derek are getting along, but they’re not a family, and they’re sure as hell not mates. Christ, they’re basically just two stupid guys who happened to get pregnant because of a full moon and sheer dumb luck.

We Are Made of Our Memories by JenyaKeefe (Complete: 9/9| 12,441) --Sterek

"I don't have amnesia." "Um, clearly you do. You're under a spell that's taken a year's worth of memories." "No. I've wakened from a spell."

Lost on you by devilscut (Complete: 7/7| 51,322) --Steterek

A deadly encounter with an Alpha changes Stiles' life forever - kicked out and betrayed by his best friend and brother, Scott McCall, he leaves Beacon Hills, but much to his surprise not alone. Ten years down the track, living a life he never dreamed possible, a chance meeting brings back memories of that night - the good and bad mixed with a whole lotta WTF that even now still has him scratching his head as to what happened.

In Treatment by tzzzz (Complete: 22/22| 166,937) --Sterek

Derek hires Stiles, a professional alpha sex therapist, to help him through his heat.

The New Normal by midnightcas (Complete: 27/27| 63,392) --Sterek

After Stiles gets hurt...again, Derek puts him on the metaphorical supernatural bench. Meanwhile, Stiles tries to have a normal life and make normal friends. But when a new pack comes to town and the Hales start getting threats, things start to get a little....not normal.

The Mating Privilege by Kikileduc (Complete: 12/12| 35,380) --Sterek

Stiles and Derek have been happily mated. The pack is doing well, but in hopes of creating alliances for it to do better, Derek accepts a neighboring pack's request to allow two wolves to join the Hale-McCall pack for a full moon cycle. They hope to form a blood-tie, or at least a long term friendship between the two packs. The issue is Kohona, the tribal leader's daughter, has her eyes set on an unavailable alpha wolf. This could have drastic consequences for their young emissary, however...

Beta read by the amazing Splash_of_ bi! Cannot thank you enough!!

Jokingly I'm adding this WARNING after having two separate comments talk about heart palpitations and others stating they are physically shaking or experiencing high blood pressure after reading the first few chapters.... WARNING: read with caution if you have a pre existing heart condition, Derek and the Pack may cause you to be upset!!

If We Could Match by forestofbabel (Complete: 9/9| 23,455) --Sterek

As Stiles waits behind the camera during an interview, he thinks he should maybe quit. Because, in all honesty, despite the charming smile the actor is pulling out for EW, Derek Hale is kind of a jerk.

Your Heart for My White Fences by zgdtx (Complete: 10/10| 29,444) --Sterek

At first, Derek was the one night stand that he could not pry himself away from. Before he knew it, Derek was the married man Stiles had fallen in love with. Then, Stiles was the little lamb being tossed into a pit of wolves, helpless and alone. There was not much he could do, no, not much at all. Dark AU.

Call in the Air Stike (Tell Them to Make the Drop) by WednesdaysDaughter (Complete: 2/2| 5,126) --Sterek

"How do you tell your best friend that the guy you were slowly falling in love with flat out said you were nothing but a waste of space, and you’ve secretly felt that way about yourself once or twice on a bad day? The answer is, you don’t."

Twyla Hale by FiccinDylan (Complete: 13/13| 37,123) --Sterek

After the formula of their go-to product changes, "Hair Day" becomes "Hell Day" in the Hale Pack household. It's time for Derek to call in the pros, imagine his surprise when he's presented with a wicked tongued white boy with honey brown eyes.

***sure there’s some stuff that happens that’s not fun but i think I would characterize this as light angst in comparison to the inherent possibilities of this fandom lol

Baby You're Beautiful by supernaynay (one-shot| 1,089) --Sterek

“God you’re beautiful.”

Derek hadn’t even realized that the words had left his mouth until the whole room went silent, including Stiles, who until about five seconds earlier was busy yelling at him for putting himself in danger yet again.

I want to do this for you by Late_to_the_fandom (Complete: 17/17| 19,323) --Sterek

“You must be delusional,” Derek deadpanned as he stood abruptly and stalked away indignantly to throw the broken shards of his cup in the garbage can. “In what harebrained scenario of yours did you think I’d say yes to this?” His heart thundered in his chest as he stared at Stiles in disbelief. “Nothing good can come out of this and you know it.” He paced angrily, his hands fisting then uncurling as he tried to rein his emotions. He stopped suddenly, his glare piercing and his words cutting, “I would never let you use me like this.”

There's Something About Love that Breaks Your Heart by Stereklover11 (Complete: 5/5| 7,835) --Sterek

"I love you," Stiles said.

Derek didn't answer right away. Then he said:

"I'm sorry Stiles, but I don't feel that way about you. Or any guy for that matter."

The one where Derek is bisexual but doesn't know it and refuses Stiles' love...at first. ;)

Baby Daddy by DiscontentedWinter (Complete: 25/25| 55,369) --Sterek

Laura Hale decides it's time to expand her pack. And Stiles could really use the money. And Derek... well, that's when things get complicated.

Bake to Remember, Eat to Forget by butyoureyessaidyes (Complete: 19/19) --Sterek

It’s 6:18 A.M. on a Monday, and Stiles is using his thumbs to shape the fondant butt of a Winnie the Pooh sculpture. It’s the most action he’s seen in a long time.

Or the one where Stiles runs his own bakery, never locks the front door, and doesn't know he's part of a werewolf pack (until he does).

Kill Me Once, Shame On You by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle (wip: 15/?| 46,512) --Sterek

In the aftermath of their final bout with Gerard, things kinda went to shit. Yeah, they won. But Scott had violated some major boundaries. Jackson was still an emotionally constipated douche. Erica and Boyd were missing. In general, everyone was left missing a piece of themselves in one form or another. There was also the fact that there was a literal pack of alphas bearing down on them. Stiles was really getting sick of this shit.

(There's) Sulphur in Our Blood by WonderWolf (wip: 19/21| 186,356) --Sterek

"Harris put you on a recon mission with Derek. You. Alone with Derek. On a mission. Together,” Scott says, slowly. “Does Harris want you dead?”

“I believe so," Stiles says gravely.

(Secret Agent AU where Derek blames Stiles for his sister’s death and Stiles is pretty sure that Derek’s going to murder him. As if that weren’t enough to deal with, Stiles’ familiar keeps having public breakdowns.

Oh, and there’s a mole in the agency, so there’s that too).

191 notes · View notes

what-is-your-plan-today · 5 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner Ch 58:You Have To Go Through The Worst To Get To The Best

Intro The Time Heist worked, but at a cost. Natasha gave her life for the Soul Stone. Following a promise to make her sacrifice worth something, the Avengers continued their plan and succeeded in reversing the Snap. But along with everyone else, the biggest threat the Avengers have ever faced re-appeared.

Thanos.

Now Steve and Katie, along with the rest of their team are locked in a fearsome battle, between light and dark, life and death. Simply put, it’s a battle which they cannot afford to lose because they’re in the Endgame now…

Warnings: “Language!”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist

Sorry for your loss.

4 words that Katie was already sick of hearing. Sorry. I mean...what did people have to be sorry for? It wasn’t like it was their fault. Still, she acknowledged the sympathies that came her way, completely automatically, almost emotionlessly. She barely registered the fact she had spoken to Fury and Hill, two people who had been dead 5 years ago, she didn’t have the energy to wish she could knock Ross’ head off his shoulders and had no idea how long she had walked what was left of the compound...maybe an hour or so? Who cared anyway? She simply did what people asked her to do to help out, whilst Steve hurried around organising everyone and barking orders.

Nevertheless, when the crowds of Emergency Services, Armed Forces and Support Staff that had flooded the Compound left, she suddenly felt alone and found herself in their compound apartment, sat on the bed, staring at the wall. Just staring. It was quiet, but her mind was anything but. Her brain was screaming all sorts at her, but she couldn’t really understand any of it. She simply felt broken.

“Katie…”

She looked up to see Steve in the doorway.

“Hey.” she gave him a soft smile. “Pepper just spoke to Happy…the kids are fine. All 3 fast asleep. He’s going to wake them in a few hours and bring them back.” “No.” Katie shook her head “I want him to bring them now.” “Honey its almost 4 am.” he said, and she frowned. Ok, so she’d been walking around a little longer than she thought, then. “Let them sleep. We can go, get cleaned up and…” “Plan how we tell them their Uncle is dead.” she said softly, gazing back down at her hands.

Steve took a shaky breath. He felt beyond guilty. Guilty that he got to go home to his kids because of the fact that Tony wouldn’t. Steeling himself, he made his way to the bed, sat down next to his wife and wrapped his arm around her as she lay her head on his shoulder.

“What’s everyone doing?” she asked softly.

“Rhodey is in with Ross and President Ellis…” “Ellis is here?” she frowned.

Steve nodded “Rhodey’s giving him a brief on what’s happened. They’re gonna need to put an announcement out so…”

“Suppose it was probably a shock everyone re-appearing again.” she said quietly. “What about everyone else?”

“Well Lang, Parker and Bruce already left.” he said as his hand gently rubbed up and down her arm. “And there’s a chopper on the way to take Pepper home and a couple more following to take the rest of us to the Tower. The roads are completely jammed, apparently there’s impromptu parties taking place all over. Might be a while before we can get back through to Brooklyn.” The thought of partying seemed alien to Katie, but as she thought about it, it wasn’t surprising. People would be greeting lost loved ones, celebrating the fact the world has returned to normal.

For them anyway.

“Clint will want to go home...” Katie nodded “He’ll be desperate to see Laura and the kids.” “We’ve got a jet on the way for him so he can go as soon as possible.”

If ever Katie was grateful for having a husband with Military organisational skills it was now. He’d literally thought of everything. She closed her eyes and nuzzled into him even more, seeking out comfort like a child, as they sat in silence until they were ready to leave.

****

“I guess this is strange for you too, huh?” Steve said as they made their way into the Tower, Bucky and Sam each carrying one of the bags of stuff they’d brought with them from the Compound, Steve the other. “Yeah you could say that.” Sam shrugged “one minute everyone was in Wakanda and then the next minute it was just us, and the jungle had changed and then that Strange dude turns up and tells us it’s been 5 years and we needed to go fight one last time…”

“Has it really been 5 years?” Bucky asked.

Katie nodded

“So now you’re older than me Stevie…” he grinned.

Steve chuckled a Katie gave a small smile. “Shut up.”

“Where do you want-“ Bucky began but he stopped dead, Sam bumping into him.

“What the hell Frosty?” he said, frowning as he followed Bucky’s eye line, his eyes growing wide. Wanda was also gazing, mouth open, and Steve immediately knew what they were looking at- the large framed photo on the wall in the living room.

Even though their home was in Brooklyn this was still very much their apartment. Katie sometimes stayed if she had a big meeting, or on occasions they would crash here when they grabbed a rare night out in Manhattan. And it was for that reason that the photos in the apartment had been updated as their lives had moved on. The wall their friends were gazing at contained two photos. The first was one taken by Katie at the hospital when Jamie was hours old, the same photo also adorned the wall in the lounge at home. It showed Steve asleep in the chair by her hospital bed, hair unkempt and he was unshaven with his baby son clutched to his chest as they both slept. He remembered the moment like it was yesterday, one snapshot moment out of God knows how many, all of which the 3 people stood in front of him had missed. The second showed a younger Emmy with her then 6 month old brother, both grinning at the camera as they sat on the sofa at home.

“You….” Sam gasped as Wanda and Bucky turned to them, mouth hanging open.

Steve nodded “Yeh, err, did no one tell you?” he asked, rubbing his neck.

“No.” Bucky breathed.

“But then it never really cropped up in conversation whilst we were fighting Thanos…” Sam said, a little sarcastically and Wanda thumped his arm.

“How old…” she asked.

“Emily is 16 this year.” Katie said, looking at the photos smiling softly “We adopted her after the snap…long story.”

She looked at Steve who smiled, knowing she was allowing him the task of revealing their boys names to two of the men he was named after.

“And Jamie’s 3.” he said, looking at Bucky.

“Jamie?” Bucky asked thickly.

“Or to give him his full name James.” Steve said, nodding at Bucky who swallowed as he looked back at his best friend. “Anthony-“ then Steve turned to Sam “Samuel.”

Bucky and Sam exchanged a look, the pair of them floundering for words.

“Cap…” Sam swallowed, his eyes misting over “Wow, I’m so happy for you guys.” “I can’t wait to meet them.” Wanda beamed.

“You might regret saying that.” Steve chuckled “He can be a handful. Stubborn, opinionated, won’t back down- don’t even say it.” he pointed at Bucky who had opened his mouth.

“He’s awesome.” Katie said softly “They both are.”

Her eyes moved round the apartment and fell on a photo of her and Tony taken at her wedding, and suddenly she couldn’t be there anymore. Excusing herself she headed into their bedroom. She shed her boots, cat suit and made her way straight into the en-suite now feeling utterly overwhelmed, and still struggling to make head or tail of her emotions. She should have been celebrating like everyone else in the streets was doing. Their friends and trillions of other people were saved, but she couldn’t because again, just like the other day when they had grieved for Natasha, there was one person who wasn’t coming back. Her brother.

She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand, an attempt to sooth the pain she now felt in every inch of her body. But whilst some of it was bruising from the multiple batterings she had taken, some of it was coming from inside. The pain of losing her brother was physical, and hard. Closing her eyes she lay her head against the tiles, allowing the water to beat down on her, lost in her memories. “I got full marks on my English essay Tone!” her 10 year old self grinned up at him as he leaned against the car, looking as effortlessly cool as ever.

“Get you, you little brainbox!” he ruffled her hair “That’s awesome, so awesome in fact I think we need to stop for pizza and a shit load of ice cream on the way home…sound good?” “You’re the best!” she beamed as he took her pink back-pack off her and dropped it into the trunk as she climbed into the passenger seat of his BWM.

“Oh no, you are not going out wearing that!” he said, standing up as she walked into the living room of the house.

16 year old Katie rolled her eyes “Tone its boiling hot outside, what you want me to wear? A pair of jeans and a fucking coat?” “Not that!” he scoffed, looking at the rather short denim skirt “Young lady,I can see what you had for breakfast.”

“Oh bite me Tony.” she shot back, hearing the guffaw that Rhodey gave out from the sofa before she shot out of the front door to greet her boyfriend who had just pulled up the drive.

Then she was 18, cruising along the cliff in Malibu, laughing, her hands on the steering wheel of her convertible bug, Tony in the passenger seat sipping an iced tea, the pair of them singing as loudly as they could to Drops of Jupiter- their song.

“Mr Rock and Roll over there, listen to you!” she laughed as the song finished and it changed to AC/DC Thunder.

“If you ever tell anyone about my love of Train I will kill you.” Tony looked at her over his sunglasses and she snorted, grinning.

“I’m so telling Pepper.”

“Err you know I can still pull my funding.” he glared “You can kiss goodbye to going to Oxford…” And speaking of Oxford, at 21, she was there, accepting her first class honours in English Literature and Mythology. As she smiled for the camera, she could see Tony stood up in the middle of the hall, whistling before he punched the air “That’s my girl!” he yelled “Katie Maria Stark. That’s my girl! No I won’t sit down...what did you just say?...” and he began arguing with the person behind him.

At 26 she was crying, tears of happiness as the ramp on the aircraft carrier opened to reveal her brother. His hair was longer, he looked thinner but he was alive. He was barely at the bottom before she flung herself at him, not caring that his arm was a sling.

“Hey Kiddo.” he said softly as she buried her face into his neck.

“You fucking ass hole!” she sobbed “next time, you ride with Rhodey, you got that?”

“Trust me, there will be no next time.” he chuckled as she pulled back “Afghanistan is a shit hole.”

A year later she was crying again, sobbing even, as Tony sat with his arms around her, gently shushing her as she sat up in her bed “How could he do that to me Tony?” she sniffed, her tears dampening her brother’s t-shirt as he rubbed her back, laying his head against hers. “I thought he loved me…but…” “He isn’t worth your tears kiddo.” he sighed “Grant cunt-face Ward doesn’t deserve them, or you. No one ever will…you got that? No one will ever be good enough for my Kiddo.”

And then she was walking up the aisle towards her future husband, her arm linked tightly around Tony’s. He pressed a kiss to her head.

“Just remember, just because I’m giving you away doesn’t mean I won’t kick his ass if he ever hurts you.” he mumbled and she snorted, turning to look at him. “I love you to the stars and back, Katie, remember that…” Like she could ever forget. Tony hadn’t been everyone’s cup of tea. Hell, at times they’d been completely at odds with one another, siblings estranged for 2 years at one point. But she had never, not once, stopped loving the man who had brought her up as his own. Her brother and father all rolled into one.

“I remember when you used to do that for me.” She grinned, watching Tony as he sat with Morgan between his legs on the lounger round the pool at her Brooklyn home, rubbing her wet hair ferociously with a pink beach towel, making the 3 year old cackle with laughter. I remember…but Morgan won’t.

And then the cry ripped from her chest, like someone had reached down her throat and pulled it from the very depths of her heart.

***** Steve made sure the guys were settled in the spare apartment, the three of them opting to share, none of them particularly wanting to be alone. Making his way back into theirs, he headed straight to the bedroom and heard Katie turn off the water to the shower. With a groan he stripped off the top half of his uniform, dropping the grubby item to the floor and then reached to pull off the compression shirt.

But before he got chance he heard a noise that chilled his every bone. It was a cry. A primal, raw, broken scream. Quick as flash he crossed the room and pushed open the door to the bathroom and found his wife slumped on her knees on the floor, screaming and crying uncontrollably.

“He’s gone…” she screamed “He’s gone, he’s gone…” He’d known this was coming and it broke his heart that he could do nothing to help, nothing to take away the utter desperation and pain and anger she was feeling. Without hesitation he dropped to his knees and she turned to him, fisting her hands around his top as he pulled her close, one arm round her back, the other in her hair.

“Let it out…”his voice was croaky as he rocked her, gently stroking her hair as his cheek pressed against the top of her head. “I got you…I got you…” How long they stayed there for, with Katie screaming and crying over the soft sounds of his soothing, Steve had no idea, but eventually her sobs became sniffles as she regained some form of composure.

“Steve…” she managed to stutter as she pulled back to look at him” He’s gone…he’s gone…” “Oh sweetheart…” his voice cracked, his own heart ached with grief and sympathy and love as he dropped a kiss to her forehead, pulling her onto his lap as he settled on the floor, making no attempts to move her. He buried his face into her hair, his own sobs catching in his throat.

Eventually she stopped crying, and she truly thought at that time her body had run out of tears to shed. She pulled back to look up at Steve, his eyes wet as she took a ragged, deep breath.

“All my life Tony has been there…” she said gently as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, brushing away her stray tears, “Even when we were apart those years I knew that if I needed him, he would be there…but now…he’s gone and I don’t know what to do.”

“You do what you always do.” he said gently “You get up, you dust yourself off and you act like the amazing, strong, beautiful woman you are. My wife, my baby momma.”

She gave a watery splutter of a laugh before she buried her face into his t-shirt again, and simply breathed him in. His warmth and familiar smell, even if he wasn’t as fresh as he could be after the exertion of battle, was a comfort, a balm to her broken soul. Tony was gone, she knew that, but she wasn’t on her own. She’d never be on her own as long as she had Steve.

****

“Don’t be sad Momma…” Jamie said, as Katie’s tears tickled down her cheeks, her son on her lap, Emmy sat on her father’s, despite her age meaning she was normally way past that stage, as she cried into his chest, his arms gently cradling her. “Uncle Nee isn’t on his own.” “What do you mean baby?” she asked, sniffing as he played with a strand of her hair.

He looked at her with his baby blue eyes and shrugged, as if the answer was obvious “Because he’s with Auntie Nat-Nat.”

“Yeah…” Katie said, a soft sob escaping her “You’re right. But I’m still sad, but you don’t need to be worried about that ok?” He nodded “I can kiss it better” he said, and she smiled as he leaned up connecting his lips to hers with a loud smacking noise.

“All better.” she smiled, wiping her eyes.

“When can we go home?” Emmy asked, sitting up slightly.

“Soon, I promise.” Steve said. “I think we’ll stay here for tonight, your mom and I both need a rest.”

Emmy nodded “I expect kicking alien butt for hours takes it out of you.” Steve snorted. “A little.” “You did it though.” She said softly “Everyone came back.” “Yeah, and on that note…” Katie picked up, “We have some people we’d like you to meet. That’s if you’re feeling up to it.” “Is it them? Bucky, Sam and Wanda?” Emmy asked, her wet brown eyes opening wide.

“Yeah.” Steve smiled “If it’s ok with you, we thought we could all have breakfast together…”

“Pancakes?” Jamie asked hopefully and Katie nodded, dropping a kiss to his head.

“Pancakes” she affirmed.

“Now?”

“Do you ever think about anything but this?” Katie chuckled, prodding his tummy. He pondered for a second.

“legos.” he said, nodding “I think about my legos sometime.”

Emmy snorted and Steve let out a laugh “Pancakes and legos eh son?” he reached out and ruffled Jamie’s hair “Sounds like a perfect combination.”

A short while later Steve, armed with a selection of his clothes and Katie’s for the 3 adults headed down to fetch them, whilst Katie started to make breakfast. Pepper, as caring and thoughtful as ever had sent Happy back with a selection of food knowing that Manhattan was in utter chaos and going out in public was the last thing Steve or Katie wanted for fear of being mobbed. That, combined with the stash they had in the kitchen meant it was easy for Katie to whip up a batch of batter and throw some bacon in the pan.

She set Emmy to work chopping fruit, and never one to miss out, she stood Jamie on a chair in front of her and gently guided his hand as he held the whisk to stir the batter. Katie was literally grabbing the ladle to drop the first load into the pan, the door to the apartment opened and Steve’s voice carried in to the kitchen.

“Hey guys…” Jamie squealed in excitement and Katie moved so he could get down. He shot out of the kitchen, barrelling into the lounge where he skidded to a halt by his dad and gazed up at the 3 strange adults in front of him.

The first thing that hit Bucky was just how like post-serum Steve the little boy was. Stocky, bright blue eyes and a shock of dark blonde hair. But his nose, his nose was distinctly like his mother’s.

“He looks like you.” he said, nodding to Steve.

Katie stepped into the room with Emmy and smiled.

“Jamie, Emmy….this is Bucky, Sam and Wanda.” Emmy raised her hand shyly “Nice to meet you all.”

Meanwhile, Jamie simply gazed up at Bucky, his attention focussed directly on his metal arm and Bucky suddenly began to worry that it would scare him. That was until Jamie stepped forward with all his usual boldness and pointed.

“Is that metal?” “Jamie…” Steve said, his tone soft. He couldn’t scald his son for being curious, but at the same time he had seen the apprehension in Bucky’s eyes. Apprehension that had now turned to amusement.

“Yeah it is.” He said, crouching down so he was eye level with his namesake. He held his left hand up, wiggling the fingers “Wanna touch it?” Jamie reached out and placed his palm against Bucky’s prosthetic and grinned, looking up.

“Dad…that’s really cool. Can I have one?”

“Absolutely not.” Steve shook his head with a grin.

“You think that’s cool you should see my wings.” Sam said, crouching next to Bucky.

“You have wings?” Jamie’s eyes grew wide “I want…”

“No!” Katie said with a snort.

“Fine I’ll just ask Santa.” Jamie shruggged and Sam let out a loud laugh.

“I like this kid!” he grinned, standing up.

“You can have him…” Katie winked, as Bucky stood up straight and grinned “Saves me sending him to Kiddie Prison.” “Morgan told me there’s no such place.” Jamie looked at his mother, and Steve let out a sigh. The threat of Kiddie Prison was their biggest bargaining chip when he was being naughty. Especially as the naughty step wasn’t an option, because the first (and last) time they tried that they caught him climbing up the staircase and sliding down the bannister nearly giving the pair of them a heart attack.

“I told you short stuff, it does.” Emmy said, with a roll of her eyes “I lived there before mom and dad adopted me. And all they give you to eat all day is slugs and slime…” Steve shared a look with Bucky and let out a loud laugh.

“Don’t…” Bucky shook his head with a grin.

“You gave Becca nightmares for days with that story!” Steve laughed as he recalled Bucky telling his sister about a hole in the ground where bad kids went “She wouldn’t go near a manhole for months!”

“I can still feel the blow round the ears my Pa gave me…” Bucky said, reaching up to rub at the back of his head. The chatter continued as they made their way into the kitchen. Steve went to brew the coffee as Sam, Wanda and Bucky took seats round the table with the kids, chatting away. Occasionally he caught the odd snippet as Jamie told Bucky about his toys at home, Sam all about his friend at nursery, whilst Emmy was chatting to Wanda about school and what she wanted to do in the future. But all the time the soldier had one eye on his wife as she stood, silently, cooking enough pancakes to feed a small army. Which, to be fair, was probably what they would need with 2 super soldiers and a hungry 3 year old to feed. He slipped his arms around her waist.

“You ok?” he asked, before he sighed “Sorry, stupid question.”

She chuckled and shook her head “No it’s not stupid. And no, I’m not. Not really. But I will be, in time. I hope.”

Steve dropped a kiss to her cheek and winced as a loud “GET A ROOM!” sounded across the kitchen and he turned to glare at his son, Bucky and Sam exchanging gleeful looks with one another. Steve raised his hand and pointed at Emmy accusingly. “That was not me!” she said, indignantly “It was Bucky that told him to say it…” “If this is the impression you have on my kids after all of 15 minutes James Buchanan Barnes then I’m going to have to seriously consider letting you near them again.” Katie said as she dropped the plate of pancakes into the middle of the table.

“Why did you just call him James?” Jamie asked, frowning

“Because my name is James too.” Bucky answered for Katie.

“No, it’s Bucky.” Jamie frowned.

“He only gets called James when he’s been bad, bit like you pal.” Steve chuckled, placing Jamie’s plate of food in front of him “Now eat that, and then you can show Buck your lego.”

“My legos are here?” Jamie said, grinning.

“Yeah they’re in your bag.” he dropped a kiss to his son’s head.

“What the hell is a Lego?” Bucky asked. The room feel silent as all eyes turned to the man who glanced around, suddenly feeling very self conscious. “What?” ****

“I know there is much speculation surrounding the events of the last 24 hours, and it is for that reason I find myself addressing you all once more, with regards to the Decimation…only this time I am happy to greet you all with much better news. Thanks to the brave actions of the Avengers and countless others who fought in a ferocious battle Upstate, the Vanished have been returned to us in the same state in which they left. But it isn’t without cost. Unfortunately, I do bring some sad news amongst the happy, as I can confirm the rumours are true. Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff both lost their lives in the mission to bring everyone back. My sincere condolences and thoughts are with the rest of the Avengers, in particular the Rogers and Stark families, and I’m sure I speak for the entire world when I say we will be forever indebted to the two fallen heroes for their brave sacrifices which ensured that friends and families across the globe could be reunited. To allow you all some time with those who have been returned to you, I’m declaring today and tomorrow a national holiday. So be with your loved ones. And now I speak to those who have been returned to us. For the past 5 years the world has become a very different place to the one you knew. Please be patient with us whilst we try to make sense of the fact you have all been returned to us and don’t be too hard on us if we seem a little, well, astounded. Thank you all, God Bless America, and God Bless the Avengers.”

President Ellis’ address rang out across the nation at 3pm that afternoon. On every TV and Radio channel there was. Rhodey had popped by to give them a heads up, and also inform Katie that they were talking about honouring both Tony and Natasha posthumously. Katie had merely shrugged, not entirely sure what Tony would have said about any of that, until Rhodey made her laugh about the last time he had received an honour, getting stabbed with the pin by the Senator awarding it to him. Senator Stern. Who had turned out to be Hydra.

That night fireworks exploded across the skies of Manhattan. The current occupants of the tower sat on the roof watching the symphony of colours and explosions as it light up the sky-line, Jamie opting to sit on Bucky’s knee instead of his father’s, because of course Bucky was now his favourite person on the planet. But Steve didn’t mind, well, not too much anyway.

The next few days passed them by in a bit of a blur. They moved back to the house in Brooklyn. Sam and Bucky came with them but, surprisingly to Steve (but not to Katie) Wanda opted to head to Clint’s after the archer called and offered her a room. Steve’s time was divided between speaking to the UN, various people in the senate and government along with Rhodey as they stared to make plans to help those people who had returned and found themselves in tricky situations. Some found their wives or husbands had re-married, others found themselves homeless as new occupants had moved into their flats post them being vacant in the past 5 years. Two of those people were Peter Parker and his Aunt May, who were now residing in the Tower until Katie could find them an apartment. And then there were the kids who had been adopted suddenly found themselves with two sets of parents, although Emmy’s foster family never came looking for her. And it was a good job, as they would have been met not only by her parents but a former deadly assassin and an ex Para Rescuer ready to kick the shit out of them having learned from Steve and Katie one evening about the girl’s past.

No, reversing the snap had swung up a whole cacophony of different problems, but for the time being Katie had no time or energy for anything other than planning Tony’s funeral with Pepper, and a service of sorts for Natasha with Clint. Natasha’s was to take place first, a small ceremony at Clint’s farm where they would be planting a red maple tree in her honour. Tony’s was slightly more tricky. The Billionaire had led a very public lifestyle and naturally (even if unfairly) was attracting the most public interest. They’d been approached by President Ellis, who had asked if they would be open to the service being shown on larger, outside Televisions across Manhattan to avoid public crowding the area. Katie had been horrified at first, until Pepper had snorted and reminded her that the Old Tony would have loved the attention and fuss. But New Tony wouldn’t. Which was why they compromised and chose to celebrate the two sides to Tony’s huge personality. For the Genius, Billionaire, Play-Boy, Philanthropist they would hold a service at St Patrick’s Cathedral and for the husband, father, brother, friend they would then hold a more intimate wake at the house. Pepper was also going to plant a tree by the lake house, where his ashes would be scattered eventually. And there was also the matter of his will to go through as well, but they decided that could wait.

It was draining, emotionally and physically, so it was no surprise that Katie was constantly tired and a little irritable, Steve feeling the harsh side of her tongue on more than one occasion. But he never bit back, he knew how she was feeling. He’d had to do it with his Ma. Instead he listened to her bounce ideas off him, helped with the organisation, and simply comforted her when she needed it.

On the 6th day post the return of the Vanished, things on the surface had returned to some kind of normal. Almost a half-way-house between what it had been like before the Snap and what they had become post the Snap. But what was noticeable to all of them was that they were persistently mobbed in the street, people wanting to thank them constantly. Jamie found the whole thing hilarious, waving to people as he walked with his Father one morning to the play-ground. Steve, however, after half an hour had returned home because he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“It’s mad.” he said with a sigh, flopping onto the sofa “I mean…”

“It’ll die down.” Katie yawned, “Just take a while.” “You still feeling crappy?” he asked, watching as Jamie sat on the rug with his trucks.

“A little.” she said

“You thrown up again?” “No” she shook her head “I don’t feel sick anymore just drained. I don’t think it’s anything serious. Probably just the stress of all the organising and stuff.”

But as she said the words something in her mind clicked.

Tiredness. Sickness. Haywire emotions.

“Shit…” she whispered, sitting bolt upright and he looked at her. “Bruce’s Snap…”

“What about it?”

“What if it brought everyone back?” “Well we know it did…” he said, not following her line of thought.

“No I mean…” she took his hand and placed it on her stomach “everyone…”

It took him a second to cotton on, and he blinked, looking into his wife’s wide eyes.

“Shit…” he stuttered.

“Language.” Jamie said, almost immediately, but both parents ignored him.

“I didn’t…” Steve swallowed “I mean, I didn’t even consider that a possibility…do you think…”

Katie took a deep breath “I dunno, I mean the first snap took it away…”

They stayed still for a moment, simply looking at each other, both thinking the same. If one snap had taken their baby, the second snap could quite as easily have brought it back.

“I think I need to go to the store.” Katie muttered. Less than an hour later husband and wife were stood in the bathroom looking down. Down at four different tests. Four different tests that all told them the same thing.

“I can’t believe it…” Steve whispered, looking at his wife as she glanced up at him, tears in her eyes.

“Me neither…” she whispered.

“I’m gonna be a daddy…again.” he reached out to Katie, his eyes shining as she gave him a smile.

“And I’m gonna be fat again.” There was a pause before Steve’s face cracked into a huge grin and he pulled her to him. She wrapped her arms round his neck and he hugged her close, the pair of them laughing through their tears.

“I like you fat with my kid.” he said, pulling away and wiping the tears that were trickling down her face with his thumbs. She smiled and returned the gesture, brushing the back of her hand over his wet cheeks.

“I love you. So fucking much, my baby momma.” he said softly as he dropped a kiss to her lips and she whispered into his mouth

“I love you too, my baby daddy.”

And for the first time in days, Katie’s heart felt a little less broken. Tags

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @icanfeelastormbrewing @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #sam wilson #falcon #tony stark #iron man #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye

79 notes · View notes

forever-in-stone · 4 years

Text

Asylum Story

White. All that surrounded me, was white. White lights. White walls. White doors. Everything was white. The large padded walls protected my fist, as they curled into tight balls and fought against that which continued to threaten their impending closure. The resilient foam flooring mocked me as my small form crumbled to it's mercy, eagerly seeking comfort that didn't come. My terrorizing thoughts were chased away by the blinding rays of the florescent bulbs, refusing to allow any sort of peace to surround me. The cold door made no remark as crude words ripped from my chest, aching for someone to respond, for anyone to acknowledge my existence. How long had it been since I heard another voice other than my own? Days? Weeks? Just like my padded cell, time began to blur into a sea of cushioned white. At first, adjusting to the colorless room was a struggle, my head would throb from the effects of the bleached chamber. Now, with the help of Dr. Drug Pushers medication, everything is numb. I no longer feel the ache of hunger, or the piercing pain that coursed across my temples. The bite in the brisk air, kept at sixty-two degrees, no longer felt like needles on my skin. I was warm. Everything was warm.. ~ "Let's go Amyah you've got a visitor," the horn voice blew over the speakers, my body jolting off the ground in utter fear at the first noise of someone other than myself. I recognized the voice as the Asylum's security guard Jake, who was in charge of the patients in the box. 'It must be Friday, there was no other reason that they would let me out of here, except to see him. Wait, Friday? I had been in the box for four days, what did I do this time?' The doors opened in front of me and my eyes struggled to adjust to the warm glow of the shower room, water was already lukewarm and dripping from the ceiling waiting my entrance. I walked in instantly, for once thankful that they had taken away my clothes, letting the warm droplets fall around my shoulders and soak my long, greasy tar hair. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the hard, foam enclosure, letting the water wash away the grit from the last few days. I had barely enough time to rinse the cheap, flat, solution from my now shivering form, before the water was cut off. I stepped back into the box where a pair of grey cotton leggings and an oversized beige t-shirt set in wait. 'Of course no towel, who needs to be dry.' I attempted to ring the access water out of my matted strands before I hurriedly dressed into the atrocious attire. The cold surrounded me again, the fact my previously wet body had now soaked into my clothing, dampening it against my skin, only caused the brisk air to bite into my skin once more. Of course bras weren't allowed due to "safety regulations", I bet the male staff really enjoyed that fact. The lights slowly began to dim around me, allowing my eyes to naturally adjust to the change in brightness that would occur once I left the box. The temperature remained the same and as the lights lowered it only made the room feel colder, and I ached for the sliding doors to open and bring in the heat. I silently prayed that nurse Laura was on call today, she always had a heated blanket on deck when we left the box, for she was no stranger to the atrocities of men. As if God had heard my prayers, the large steel doors opened and a huge gust of fresh, warm breeze brushed against my pale skin. My legs, although stiff, mechanically moved underneath me and brought me out of the box and into the warm arms of Nurse Laura. A warm cloth was wrapped around my shivering form, and I nuzzled into the curly redhead that smelled of pinesol and lemons. "Welcome back sweetheart," her voice dripped with warm honey, and I instantly felt my nerves calm and my anxieties lift. She was the only good thing about this place, the only thing that kept me going, well her and. "Come along darlin', you've got an appointment," she spoke, bringing warmth to my cheeks. **NOTE**

Thank you for reading if you did. Lmk what yall think and like for part 2

#tw: anxiety #tw: violence #tw: mental health #tw: childhood trauma

1 note · View note

renaroo · 5 years

Text

The Jean Grey School for Wayward Wolverines

Disclaimer: Wolverine and associated characters are the creative property of Marvel Comics Warnings: Canon-typical violence & language Rating: T Synopsis: Gabby is left at the Jean Grey school while Laura works with the Avengers on a mission she can’t be a part of, but of course Gabby is never one to let things end that simply.

A/N: I have no idea what brought this on other than a year of missing my girls and wanting the legacy of Wolverine to mean... well.... a legacy again but hey. At least we’ve got 50 X-books again and so far none of them have met my Kinney quota of 2

It was too warm for January and the limbs of the trees all seemed to bristle and grow brittle in response to the simple, inalienable fact. And because it was too warm for January, the argument seemed to be that it was too warm for knit sweaters and earmuffs.

This was obviously just an excuse and nowhere near reality because Laura accepted no such excuses from Gabby. Not that Gabby had a problem with wearing matching earmuffs with her sweater and winter coat combo, or with an excuse for wearing the extra fun leggings and boots that really tied her skirt and mittens all together.

But, supposedly, Jonathan was not going to be comfortable in a sweater.

“He’s not a Laura, Laura, he’s a Gabby!” Gabby argued vehemently. She then raised the Jonathan sized winter cap she had finished as a point. “And he’s going to look so cute!”

“He’s not a Laura or a Gabby because he’s a Jonathan. And Jonathans are wolverines with a very heavy winter coat right now,” Laura argued, crossing her arms with Jonathan’s sweater in hand. “If you make him too hot, he’ll get cranky on his walk and try to pull it off again. And if he does, he’ll get out of his harness. Again. Then we have a problem with the park rangers.” She paused ominously before ending with another, “Again.”

Gabby stubbornly sat on the floor, Jonathan seated in her lap and raised up her arms almost reflexively. “Is that what we’ve come to in the Kinney household now? Risking our precious Jonathan catching a cold out of fear of the authorities! What a joke. I’m gonna call Wade.”

“You can’t call Wade,” Laura said, rolling her eyes. “It would be a losing point for you anyway.”

“You’re no fun,” Gabby groaned, falling back onto the apartment floor dramatically. She showed a lot of restraint by not moving as Jonathan — adorably — crawled onto her stomach and worriedly pawed at her chest. “We should run free out into the wild, Jonathan. Leave behind this stuffy city life.”

“Wolverines don’t wear clothes in the wild,” Laura argued, already putting away Jonathan’s cute sweater in the pet drawer.

Gabby wrinkled her nose at Laura. “Maybe you should live in the wild then,” she shot back.

“Did,” Laura answered without even looking her way. Because of course she had. “Naked. In the snow. Was kind of boring.”

“What, did you just run around naked for a while then?” Gabby asked, squinting. “Why?”

“It’s a… Wolverine thing,” Laura failed at explaining, straightening up and looking down at Gabby with mild amusement.

“That’s why I’m a Honey Badger,” Gabby said, a fond smile growing on her lips.

“Sure is,” Laura agreed. “You ready for our walk yet?”

“Yup!” Gabby sheered, sitting bolt straight so fast that Jonathan rolled down to her lap in surprise. “Even if Jonathan has to be naked.”

“He does,” Laura says.

In a few short, swift moves, Gabby is on her feet and clicking on Jonathan’s harness. Their daily routine is almost ready to proceed when there is a knock on the door.

Out of reflex, Laura and Gabby both unleash their claws in an echo of SNIKTS — because they should have been able to smell someone coming toward their apartment. Neither of them had.

When the knocks continue, Laura suspiciously nears the door and glances through the peephole.

Gabby was reflexively tense, watching her sister, but she relaxed when she saw Laura recall her claws and straighten up in preparation for opening the door.

“Who is it?” Gabby asked out of curiosity, putting away her claw as well.

“Vision,” Laura answered before opening the door.

“Le gasp!” Gabby called out, putting her hands on her cheeks. “Like Vision from the Avengers? So cool! Unless we did something. Did we do something?”

The door opened and Laura had been telling the truth — there he was, the one and only Vision of the Avengers. Which, of course, no wonder they hadn’t smelled him. He was a robot. A robot who could walk through walls.

Which, Gabby supposed, made it a sign of manners and restraint that he knocked on the door. So that was nice.

“As far as the Avengers is aware, there is no reason to come after you, Gabrielle Kinney,” Vision answered her with an ominous look.

“Okay, cool,” Gabby grinned. “Hi, by the way. I have your daughter’s poster! Hope that’s not weird. I bet it is. I’ll shut up now. I’m being a gay disaster.”

Vision raised one of the ridges over his eyes before glancing toward Laura. “Wolverine, the Avengers requires you.”

“Where to and how long?” Laura asked, neglecting all the questions that Gabby would be asking.

But, then, that was a difference between a Gabby and a Laura.

“Am I interrupting anything important?” Vision asked.

“Uh, yeah, evening walk, duh,” Gabby countered, waving to the obvious setup.

“I apologize for interrupting family activities. I, too, have come to understand their importance above all else,” Vision assured them. “However, this mission for Wolverine—“

“And Honey Badger,” Gabby corrected.

“No, not this time,” Laura turned and began walking toward Gabby.

“What? How do you know? What…” Gabby stopped short and watched Laura with vague scrutiny as her sister got down on one knee in front of her and put a hand on her shoulder. Gabby gasped. “You… knew you were going on a super cool, super-secret Avengers mission! And you didn’t tell your own team?”

“I promised to be quiet about it,” she told Gabby without breaking her stare. “I am sorry. It’s not one we do together.”

“But how do you know that you won’t get into the thick of it and need me for a surprise K-O or to provide you with the perfect ending pun?” Gabby fretted.

“Not that kind of mission,” Laura assured her again, squeezing Gabby’s shoulder. She then glanced slightly back toward the Vision. “How long?”

“You will need some arrangements,” Vision answered magnanimously.

“Already made,” Laura said, getting to her feet. “Gabby, grab your go bags.”

Perking up, Gabby ran immediately to her room, abandoning a confused Jonathan, and immediately began grabbing her overnight bags — pre-packed — and then grabbed a few Avengers-themed items to possibly be signed. Then she ran back to the room. “Ready!” she called out excitedly.

“Good,” Laura said, already in uniform like a champ. She looked to the Vision. “The Jean Grey School is on the way.”

Gabby blinked a few times and then uttered, “Wait. What.”

They were quiet on the drive. Which, of course, was more unusual for one of them than for the other.

Gabby sat in the passenger seat, feet on the seat as her knees tucked in under her chin. The familiar sights of New York were passing by the window and Jonathan was snugly secured in the backseat along with the eponymous Kinney Family statue and Gabby’s go bags.

Laura was driving at her usual efficient speed, but her attention was not fully on the road. Gabby could tell by the way Laura looked her way every few moments.

“You’re upset,” Laura surmised, biting on her lip.

“Uh, duh, comes to mind,” Gabby countered with a curl to her nose. “You’re keeping stuff from me! I had no idea anything was going on with the Avengers!”

“I didn’t tell you, that’s why you didn’t know,” Laura stated, like the fact alone was somehow an answer.

“But that’s the problem! You should have told me something!” Gabby growled angrily. “We’re partners!”

“We are,” Laura agreed before pointing Gabby’s way. “But this is not something for our team. It is my other team and me.”

It felt like Gabby’s chest was being ripped in half with adamantium. “When the Avengers asked to have Wolverine on the team, you said we were honored. That’s what you said to them, Laura! You said that we were on the team. We’re supposed to be a two-package deal.”

“I said that. I said that you were with me,” Laura agreed, but her tone was unrelenting. “But that is my decision. I am responsible for you. I know when to involve you and when to tell you where else to go.”

“It’s because of the Guardians of the Galaxy and the Brood thing, isn’t it?” Gabby demanded. “You don’t trust me anymore, but you should. Because I beat the Brood when no one else ever has! Why does me getting in trouble always count, but me winning never does? How is that fair?”

Laura glared at Gabby over her sunglasses, but Gabby refused to fall back in line. Not this time.

Shaking her head, Laura looked back to the road. “It isn’t about the Brood and it isn’t about mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Then tell me about the Avengers thing,” Gabby begged, desperate. “There has to be a reason you’re doing this!”

“That reason is why you can’t know about it, too,” Laura snapped. “It isn’t simple, Gabby. It’s complicated and it’s… it’s dangerous for you to know.”

“How could it be dangerous for me to know something?” Gabby began to argue. She had a whole speech lined up, about ageism and teamwork and a dozen other angles pointing out how unjust the situation was.

But Laura wasn’t letting her get to any of them.

“Gabby,” Laura said, probably exasperated if the jut of her jaw was something to go by, “When I was your age, I didn’t have anyone looking out for me. I didn’t have anyone… advocating for me. And even when I got older, people had purposes for me more than they had an interest in doing what was best for my future. Even the people who cared about me. I saw and did things I wasn’t ready for. I knew and was expected to know things that still linger with me. Even today.” Her gaze shifted to Gabby heavily. “I didn’t know how to feel human for a long time. I didn’t know how to act my age for a long time. I didn’t know how to feel like my tomorrow counted for a long time. And because I’m older now, I realize that all those things are connected. That things people let or make you do now can stay with you and erase your personhood even for today.”

Quiet and sheepish, Gabby lowered her feet to the car floor mat. “Is the Avengers thing one of those things?”

“Yes,” Laura answered lowly.

“Then why?” Gabby preened. “Why do it at all?”

“Someone has to, so everyone else doesn’t,” Laura said strongly. “I have to so you don’t.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Gabby argued. “If you did these things when you were my age, I can do them now!”

“Then I will fail you,” Laura hissed, almost like the thought had wounded her. “Then everything will have been for nothing.”

Gabby lowered her face, frustrated. “It’s not bad for me to be like you, Laura. The only thing I’ve ever wanted to be is to be like you.”

“I know,” Laura said solemnly. “The only thing I have ever wanted, period, is for you to be better.”

The car ride was deafening from that point on.

The moment they pulled into the gated driveway of the Jean Grey School, Gabby could feel the uncomfortable prickliness of being watched.

She was slow to fully disengage from the car and begin the far worse and more painful act of taking her things out of the car and into the building. This must have been obvious since Laura immediately got out, opened the back door, and slung all of Gabby’s things out of the seat and onto her shoulders.

“I can carry my stuff,” Gabby whined, finally unhooking her seatbelt. “I was gonna get it all just…”

“It’s fine,” Laura contested, holding up a hand to stop Gabby from jumping across the seats in a vain attempt to take one of the bags. “Just get Jonathan.”

Jonathan did not need a second push. He leaped from the car and found the first good grassy spot on his radar to hike a leg.

Unfortunately, the grass did not seem to care for that action.

With a hideous roar, the earth and grass and roots lifted and cracked apart from each other, forming a fanged mouth to snap at Jonathan.

Like a good Wolverine, Jonathan was fast to evade and came barreling back toward the car.

“HEY!” Laura and Gabby snarled together, echoing SNKTS reigning out in response.

“Ladies! Krakoa!” a thundering voice called from above.

Gabby looked up and was instantly mesmerized by the sheer power radiating from Storm as her eyes glowed and sparked with lightning and the winds of all four seasons bellowed around her. She was probably the most majestic thing that Gabby had seen in her young life. It was terrifying and amazing all at once.

“Nice,” Gabby got out of her system.

“I apologize for the misunderstanding,” Storm said as her feet graced the pavement beside the Kinney sisters. “After showing Gabrielle around, I will show you where your pet can happily excuse himself.”

“He’s a wolverine, he can kinda decide that himself,” Gabby was quick to retort as her claws slipped back into place.

“While I am sure that is true in most situations, I am afraid we have a special relationship with the grounds,” Storm explained patiently. Her smile was fabulous, but the sweetness was turning Gabby’s stomach bitter.

It probably would have been easier to dunk on literally any other X-Men who would come to greet her.

“I already know around,” Gabby argued. “If I’m going to be entombed here, can’t we just go ahead and do it without a tour?”

“You don’t know where to let Jonathan out to,” Laura huffed. She sounded more irritated than she usually did with Gabby. Maybe it was the car ride. Maybe it was the attitude Gabby was giving off.

“Maybe it’s Maybelline,” Gabby couldn’t help but mutter to herself.

By the time Gabby glanced up, she could only see Laura’s discontent. It was a look that Laura wore masterfully. Oh, boy were they going to have a talk by the end of whatever the Avengers thing was.

“I understand that you are upset, Gabrielle,” Storm said gently, squaring herself with Gabby to address her directly. “And no doubt uncomfortable considering you have not lived here with us before. But we are family, and this was once your sister’s permanent home. And it always may be again. Just as it will always be a home for you.”

“Like when my sister leaves me to go play with the Avengers on a super cool, super-secret mission?” Gabby asked critically.

Storm’s patient smile continued its presence. “I am afraid that sounds like a rather… uncharitable take on your sister’s situation,” Storm chided. “We can discuss it later. For now, I would much rather you get to know the other students who you will be rooming with while you are here.”

Gabby searched her mind for a proper response, but she was distracted as she noticed Laura haughtily carting off Gabby’s things in one of the directions of a dormitory. “Laura!” Gabby whined, clamoring to catch up with her sister.

“I don’t know why you’re making this so difficult, Gabby,” Laura grunted as she pushed open a dorm door with the heel of her foot. “No one planned for things to happen this way. Sometimes they just do.”

“Maybe I come from a family that seems really good at breaking the rules when it seems to suit literally everybody else but themselves,” she grumbled in return.

Laura glanced over her shoulder, utterly ignoring the colorfully diverse set of young mutants peering their melodrama around the dorm halls. “What would you do on this dangerous mission you know nothing about, Gabby?”

“Anything to watch my sister’s back,” Gabby answered without a moment’s hesitation. “Because no one else has ever done it for her before. And she doesn’t know how important it is. Because she’s stubborn. Like a goat. A goat-verine. A woof-oat.”

Without losing her direct eye contact with Gabby, Laura turned knowingly in the hall and nudged open a specific door to a suite.

“How do you know where they’re jailing me?” Gabby demanded. “Are you just that awesome, Laura?”

“I asked,” Laura said, setting Gabby’s things down. “It was mine.”

Curious, Gabby entered the room, glancing around suspiciously. There was a large bay window, some plain but beautiful oak furniture including a dresser and vanity. Two closets, a small kitchenette that matched with a Mr. Coffee that was identical to the one in their apartment. A bathroom was also attached to the suite right next to the mini couch and television. Two desks to work at. It was a fairly useful space, all things considering.

“I don’t believe it,” Gabby announced. “Where’s a punching bag? I refuse to believe you lived here without a workout station. You’re cheapening out on me—“

Gabby didn’t have time to get much further because Laura was already pulling her into a full embrace. Laura’s muscular arms were holding tight to the back of Gabby’s head and in the small of her back, just holding her against Laura’s body with a strength that didn’t want to let go.

Silently, Gabby reached up and hugged her sister back the best she could with the awkward angle.

They stood that way for a while, hugging and quiet.

It was a Wolverine kind of thing.

“I’ll come back the second the mission is done,” Laura finally promised. “We’ll get takeout. I’ll tell you all about it.”

“I don’t know if that’ll fully cure my wounded pride,” Gabby said sardonically.

“You’ll get over it,” Laura promised. “You’re a Wolverine.”

“I’m a Honey Badger,” Gabby smirked, closing her eyes as she buried herself in her sister’s warm embrace one last time. “But yeah. I guess you’re right.”

They stayed that way for a while. It didn’t seem like either of them were actually ready for the actual separating part of their situation.

But the time did come.

And Gabby watched her sister -- her only family -- leave the grounds of the Jean Grey School without her.

Gabby would have had an easier time adjusting to living in a nunnery.

Two days after being left at the Jean Grey School, Gabby was faced with her very first Monday in the facility. She had had a terrible time attempting to sleep the night before — Jonathan needed bathroom breaks, and the AC didn’t run loudly like it did in the apartment, and there was the sound of people talking down the hall about homework and power development, and Gabby dreamed of Avengers turning to her with heavy expressions and neatly putting a hand on her shoulder to say how sorry they were —

By the time the alarm clock on her bedside read 9:00 AM, Gabby could finally close her eyes and bury herself beneath layers of blankets.

That was until a stern knocking came from her door.

For a few knocks, Gabby ignored it. Then, when the winds came through her open window and began to mess with her lock, she figured the time for simple ignorance had passed.

“Hold on! I can open my own door!” she yelled over the winds.

Sitting up in her bed, Gabby sighed, shook her lion’s mane of hair as loose as she could, then kicked her legs out from the duvet. Her body ached slightly before she went through the exaggerated routine of popping each bone in her back.

The wind had stopped attempting to pick her lock, but they still pelted her as she walked by the window. Pushing her toward the door.

At last, she kicked on her fuzzy matching slippers and shuffled her way to the door. Sniffing, she picked up the scent of her visitor rather quickly. Not that she needed the confirmation to know it was Headmaster Munroe seeking her out.

Gabby finally opened the door, blinking away the brightness of the hallway lights as he did so.

Before her stood Storm. She wasn’t in her uniform, but her sense of fashion could still kill. High platform heels, dress pants, and simple colorful blouse, with an accent necklace that Gabby couldn’t have imagined pulling off in her wildest dreams. She was magnificent looking.

And she was staring down rather imposingly to Gabby in her matching Champions pajamas ensemble.

“Hello,” Gabby greeted groggily.

“Gabrielle,” Storm said curtly. “It seems you are not planning on attending the classes on your schedule.”

“Not really,” Gabby admitted readily.

A hum came from Storm as she glanced at the room behind Gabby.

When Storm’s gaze shifted back to Gabby, it was strong enough to make the young Honey Badger squirm in her fluffy slippers. “I believe it would be important for you to get dressed and meet me in my office as soon as possible.”

“I could show up like this,” Gabby answered without hesitation.

“If that is how you think you should,” Storm said archly, her brows raising slightly at the prospect.

Giving it even a moment’s more thought had Gabby hesitating. It’s time to get a bit serious, Bub, she told herself with a heavy sigh.

“Okay, Ms. Munroe, I’ll be right there,” she promised, heading back into the depths of her room.

It was strange being in trouble with someone other than Laura. With someone with authority other than Laura.

Strangely, as she rummaged through her unpacked bags for a new shirt and jeans to wear, Gabby couldn’t help her own growing grin.

She kind of liked the trouble thing. Maybe it suited her.

One problem that was undeniable about Gabby’s routine was that it did not spare a lot of time for vamping. Throwing on a novelty tee or sweatshirt, an endless supply of leggings, and some dorky shoes she was ready to go. The less time the better. Normally.

Avoiding a serious discussion with the headmaster of a school for superpowered teens did not, exactly, fit into the routine of normally, unfortunately.

Instead, Gabby found herself on the other side of Storm’s desk far too quickly for her liking.

Storm sat on the other side of the desk, hands folded together just beneath her chin, and leaned toward Gabby with the full attention of her very captivating eyes. “You seem to be resisting forming a routine with us,” Storm noted.

“I’m not really one for routines, it’s not anything personal,” Gabby answered quickly.

A small smile crept its way onto Storm’s face. “You seem to have a routine with your pet Jonathan that is well attended to,” she argued lightly.

Gabby took the point into consideration and looked at Storm seriously instead. “I feel like there’s a difference between pet routines and putting people with thoughts and dreams and futures on a schedule,” she argues. “I mean, maybe that’s what schools gotta do with regular teenagers, but I’m not really a regular teenager! It’s not gonna work with me!”

Before Gabby had even gotten through her words, Storm’s carefully composed figure lowered her hands to the desk and threw her head back to laugh, truly and deeply.

“What? What’d I do?” Gabby demanded, her heart racing.

“My apologies,” Storm chuckled. “That is, by far, the most normal teenager argument you’ve given so far. I believe it has been used by your fellow students in this office at least three dozen times. Only since I became the headmaster.”

Defensively, Gabby’s nose curled and she leaned into the back of her chair. “No, that can’t be right… Look, it doesn’t matter if that’s what the other kids have said before, for me it’s true! I mean… I’m a Wolverine! In the making. I’m a Honey Badger now, but, like, just look at this family history! You wouldn’t make Logan go through these kinds of things.”

“Logan was not involved with the school until well after he had already reached adulthood,” Storm informed her. “However, even then, had I been headmaster, I probably would have demanded some classes in the early days.”

Gabby raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Like?”

“Manners,” Storm answered flatly.

Despite herself, Gabby snorted and felt her traitorous mouth perk up in the corners. “Yeah. Probably.” She glanced slightly off, a thought passing her by. “I mean, just from what Laura’s told me and all.” She looked to Storm finally, looking for any hint of judgment in her eyes. For the moment, there didn’t seem to be any. “I never really met him, y’know.”

In Storm’s eyes was a sadness that Gabby had not fully seen before. The older woman leaned back, taking in a deep breath. “Yes. I know.”

“But I know all about Laura,” Gabby continued, feeling her shoulders fall back and her chest puffs up with pride. “I know everything about Laura. Everything she’ll let me. AND! Some things I know that she wouldn’t let me. That’s just how well I know Laura.”

For a moment, Storm allowed them to sit in the gravity of Gabby’s comments.

Then, ever so slowly, she raised from her seat and walked gracefully around her desk. “Did Laura ever tell you that I was her teacher while she was here?” she asked as she came to sit at the chair beside Gabby.

Gabby raised an eyebrow at her. “No, not really,” she said before shaking her head. “No, wait, that’s not true! Laura’s talked about taking classes here, and I know you’re the headmaster now and used to teach. So, I knew that. I just… didn’t think about it that much. But I totally knew that!”

“But it wasn’t said directly,” Storm pressed.

“Some things don’t have to be,” Gabby countered.

“Maybe they still should be, though,” Storm continued. “Gabrielle, I want you to be happy while you are here, and I also want you to receive something from this stay that you simply could not otherwise. I want you to grow, develop, become.”

Slowly, almost as if the question was being dragged out of her throat, Gabby leaned in closer to Storm and asked, “Become what?”

“Become who you are meant to be,” Storm assured her.

“Well, I’m meant to be a Wolverine, obviously,” Gabby said, pushing her back into her chair. “And all the Wolverines before me didn’t stay behind at school and do all this growing and developing and becoming while other people were putting their butts on the line.” Gabby turned her gaze sharply on Storm. “Not even Laura when she was a student. When she was your student. She still had to do the Wolverine stuff that she doesn’t want me around now. So. I should be doing that, and you let Laura do that once already, and if you really want me to become a Wolverine-like I’m supposed to be, then you should let me do it, too.”

Finished with her long-winded speech, Gabby found herself looking in the eyes of a far less receptive Storm than what she started with.

Storm had uncrossed her legs and had both feet planted firmly on the floor. Her hands were gripping the edges of her armrests with the nails digging in. But the look on Storm’s face was one that surprised Gabby most of all.

It looked as if the older woman was in grief rather than inconsolable anger like Gabby had been anticipating.

Silence draped over the room as they sat and stared at each other.

And Gabby never did do well with silence.

“Uh, Ms. Munroe?” she asked cautiously. “I’m kinda new at this defiance thing so maybe I’m just not tough enough yet to the silent treatment… but you kind of seem upset? And I deal with that a lot less well than I deal with the whole anger thing. So it’d be great if you could give me a clue as to which way I should be leaning here.”

“Child,” Storm sighed, at last, putting one hand to her face. She was hiding behind her fingers, almost in shame.

It was Gabby’s turn to be taken aback.

“I cannot… begin to explain to you the regret I have in my bones…” she drew in a deep breath. “How much I ache at night, recalling how much I failed as an adult, a teacher, a guardian — how I was one of the many in this institution who failed to protect your sister in all the ways that she deserved to be from the moment she was in our care, to every second that followed.”

Gabby looked at Storm, confused and conflicted. “Laura doesn’t think you failed her,” Gabby argued. “She says that sometimes Wolverines have gotta do the jobs that no one else can, so no one else has to. And—“

“Let me assure you, Gabrielle,” Storm said solemnly, “any child which feels that burden while remaining in our care… any child which feels obligated to make such choices when I am around to provide them support and protection… Those are my failures. I, and every other caretaker here, have failed your sister. We cannot go back and correct it, but we can do our best for Laura now.”

The conversation was heavy. It was heavier than anything Gabby had felt before and she began to squirm in its discomfort.

“How can you make it up to Laura?” Gabby asked genuinely. “I mean she’s awesome and perfect and I don’t know why you’d want her to be any different… but even if you did want her to, I don’t know, maybe talk to her sister more, how could you do that now?”

Slowly sliding her hand from her defeated face down to her lab, Storm’s expression seemed to return to the picture of serene. Her gaze shifted back to Gabby and a soft smile built on her lips. “Through you, Gabrielle.”

Lost again, Gabby tilted her head. “Huh?”

“We cannot fix the mistakes of our past, but we can do better for today and tomorrow,” Storm continued. “Laura wants the most exceptional, safe, and loved life for you that she never had for herself. And she wants it because she loves you with the sense of protection others should have always looked out for her with. You are not like the other students, you still have seen and done things some students your age here could not imagine. And you will likely see more than them, too. But your safety and your choices will never be taken from you the way they have been for Logan and Laura, and so many others your family call Wolverines.”

Gabby frowned and squirmed. “Sounds like responsibility.”

“It should sound more like… opportunity,” Storm assured her. “You will not be at this school indefinitely, not in the way many other young mutants may need to be. After a time, should you and your sister so choose, you will return with her to your apartment and continue your lives.”

“Thank applesauce,” Gabby groaned, melting into her seat. Catching herself, she blinked and straightened up. “Uh, no offense, of course.”

Storm was smiling. “While you are here, Gabrielle, try to take the opportunity to choose opportunities others haven’t had.”

“Okay,” Gabby sighed in agreement. “I will.”

It was the end of her Thursday classes, two weeks after arriving at the Jean Grey School, that Gabby couldn’t even open her eyelids. She drags her feet against the carpeted floors of the dormitory and easily opened her room door with a moan.

“Jonathan, let’s go outside, boy—“ she began to say before sniffing.

In an instant, Gabby’s nostrils filled with an all-too-familiar scent.

Her eyes snapped open and Gabby gasped as she looked across her room to the edge of her bed.

Laura sat, Jonathan gingerly tucked into her arms, petting the wolverine’s tummy fur in that way only Laura and Gabby could. She then looked up and smirked at Gabby.

“Welcome back, Honey Badger,” Laura said, putting Jonathan to the side. She rose to her feet to stand.

Gabby didn’t give her the chance.

The younger sister launched herself across the room and tackled Laura’s waist in a vice-like hug. “Laura! Oh my gosh! You’re back! It’s been so long!”

“I know, and I’m sorry about that,” Laura said, quick to return the hug. “Means I’ve got lots to tell you over takeout, though.”

With a large grin, Gabby looked up at her sister. “Really!? Was it awesome? Was it scary? Was it lonely? Was it—“ Once her racing thoughts finally caught up to her, Gabby withdrew slightly, glancing away in thought. She then once more met her sister’s gaze. “I can’t wait to get home! But… I’ve got some friends here to say bye to first. I mean. I’m ready to go home! I’m not even unpacked! But… do you think… if we’ve got time…?”

Laura grew that one-sided smirk she always got when amused with Gabby. She planted a hand on Gabby’s head and rustled her hair. “Of course we do,” Laura answered. “Go on, say what you need to to your friends. I’ll get Jonathan and your stuff.”

Gabby let out a sigh of relief and let go of Laura. She was halfway out the door when Laura called to her.

“Gabby,” Laura said, hands on her hips. There was an easy softness to her gaze when Gabby looked to her. “I’m really proud of you, Wolverine.”

For a moment, Gabby could only blink in bewilderment. Then, slowly, the context caught up with her. She grinned back. “Thanks, Sis,” she said. “You too.”

#writing #marvel fic #Gabby Kinney #Laura Kinney #Ororo Munroe

34 notes · View notes

durrzerker · 4 years

Text

Taskmaster: The Line. Chapter 4! Escort Mission.

"Thith was supposed to be an eathy day, Tathmather."

Slowly filing through the alleyways of Bagalia, Taskmaster, Wolverine, and Black Ant weren't making great time with their young charges. Laura had taken it upon herself to carry the injured boy, who Tony had learned was named Sven, across her back; she had the greatest stamina of the trio and was the least injured. Despite his slight limp, Taskmaster had taken point, bow in hand; he was the best shot and had the greatest chance of picking off oncoming threats silently from afar. Black Ant, meanwhile, was bringing up the rear; following behind the children, the size-shifting mercenary had another honey bun in hand, taking bites between each sentence.

Stopping briefly when he heard a cry of pain, Tony opened a pouch and back a syringe of morphine from his pouch to Laura to give to Sven. The kid had been whining from the jostling of their quick pace for awhile and Tony had ignored it, but now he was starting to sound legitimately distressed. Tony usually kept the meds on hand in case he got hurt -real- bad on a job, but he had other ways of managing his pain -- and something in him, a feeling that was as surprising as it was unfamiliar, welled up at the sight of the boy trying his best to look stoic while a bone was sticking out of his limb. Was it pity? He couldn't remember.

"...How many of those damn honey buns were you smuggling, anyways?" Taskmaster grumbled to Eric.

"I dunno. Six?"

He was too tired to even care; he had greater worries on his mind. He'd tried calling The Hub twice now, once fifteen minutes ago, and once just now -- nothing.

"She was supposed to send somebody," he complained to Wolverine, raising a hand before the ragtag caravan exited the alleyway. "Don't know why she ain't called back yet."

"Maybe she's just maintaining radio silence," Laura suggested. "Trying to keep quiet while she waits at Zemo's old place." Tony appreciated her solution-oriented mindset; it didn't necessarily put him at ease, but her matter-of-fact demeanor was a lot more confident than he felt right now. "--What's that sound?" Her head cocked like that of a canine, her enhanced senses picking up what was coming long before Taskmaster noticed.

"Oh shit, what day is it? Maybe...hold up. Oh no. I know what this is."

Damn it, he thought to himself. This is exactly what I was worried about. Not enemy mercs, not a supervillain...this. Bagalia just being fuckin' Bagalia.

It was a perverted parody of Mardi Gras: the Bagalia Freedom Festival. Dozens, maybe hundreds of bonafide supervillains, alongside all of their henchmen that were brave enough to venture into the borders of the most lawless city on earth, were marching through the streets. Those that weren't drinking were most definitely on something stronger, and all of them, from the Z-listers to the major leagues like the Wrecking Crew, were going to be doing this all night.

Peeking out from an alleyway between a strip club for Skrulls and The Bar With Fourteen Names, Tony held his bow at the ready and watched the goings-on. He only needed a glimpse to see the supervillain Piledriver turn and kick an offending car out of the way that was trying to get across the street before he made up his mind. "This is gonna take too long. We're gonna be pursued soon if we ain't already, and by the time this little 'traffic jam' goes by, it'll be nearly sun up. Look at that. Stretches all the way back to the damn docks...How did I forget this was today?"

"Is that a serious question?" Eric chimed in.

"Shut up. In fact, how did YOU forget this was today?"

"I didn't." Lifting his mask, Black Ant took another bite of his honey bun. For the first time, Wolverine and Taskmaster seemed to truly be on the same wavelength; in perfect unison, they both turned and shoved him onto his ass.

"So what's the plan?" Laura asked, glancing back at Taskmaster as Black Ant rubbed his back, rising to his feet. "You know Bagalia better than anyone...when your memory's working. Do you have an idea?"

Ignoring the crack about his memory - he'd have to file that under 'How's she know about that?' for later - Tony regarded the gathered party. "If it were just me, or maybe the three of us? This would be easy. With the little troublemakers, though..." He clicked his tongue thoughtfully behind his mask. "We'll need a distraction; the kind that doesn't draw ANY of us away. Eric...yer best-suited to this."

Tony could almost feel the lenses of his partner's mask trying to squint at that. "Why me? You know, Tony, I'm starting to feel a little over-employed. Maybe you value my skills a lot! Maybe it's time to talk rais--"

"We're...we're partners, Eric. You already get half from every job we do together." He grit his teeth in exasperation; he knew where this was going.

"Yeah! I'm thinking, I dunno...maybe I'm contributing a little more than half this mission. I'm thinking maybe this is a 70/30 cut kind of job."

"Wait. What...what do you think is going to happen here, Eric? No one's paying us for this. This is --" God, it hurt to say -- "...Pro bono."

"Yeah, but -something- is going to happen. We're gonna make a lot of money off this one, Tony. I can feel it." The smaller of the two mercenaries was bouncing in place, leaving Laura regarding him with something akin to disgust.

Taskmaster liked to think he was an open-minded guy. He liked to think that when he took a job, even if it was an informal one like saving these children, he didn't let anything get in the way of focusing on the task at hand. But 70-30? "...Okay, hypothetically, if -somehow- we make a profit off this? 60-40. That's my final offer."

"...Okay, but if I'm wrong, I still keep that cut for our -next- job," Eric insisted.

"God, you two are pathetic," Laura chimed in.

"You really are!" Akeja had caught up after scouting the back end of the alley that they were coming out of, and she looked extremely annoyed. "I thought we were the kids here."

"Hilarious," Tony commented. "It's a deal. Eric, gonna need you to go big for this one. -Real- big."

"Ooh. I never get to go big." Rubbing his hands together, Black Ant already started out of the alleyway, calling back to them.

"On my signal, you all head off towards Zemo's old place. Can't believe we're messing with the Bagalia Freedom Festival! Feels downright unpatriotic, Tony."

"I know, Eric. We all gotta make sacrifices sometimes."

"Oh my god." Laura buried her face, now fully healed, into both hands. "There are children's lives at stake here."

"Yes," Eric replied. "But they're kind of mean children, so I'm not going to be guilt-tripped. Let's do this, boys!" Breaking into a run, Black Ant hit his belt. The Pym Particles that surged through his suit came to life, his form growing with every step. By the time he was intruding upon the parade, he was easily over twenty feet tall - and still growing.

"What the fuck?!" Came a cry of alarm.

"It's that shitty Ant-Man!"

"Which one?!"

Turning his attention back to the children, Taskmaster nodded. "Best shot we're gonna get. Let's go."

"He had a point about you taking advantage of him," Laura conceded when she slipped out of the alleyway, the injured Sven still on her back. Despite his added weight, she still nimbly managed to suddenly fling herself up towards a fire escape on their side of the street, using it as leverage to swing like a gymnast back and forth until she was able to hurl herself up onto the roof of the pharmacy next door. "Come on; if we stick to the rooftops until we're behind the parade, they're less likely to see us."

"Yeah, easy for you to say," Tony murmured. "Kids, you think you can manage that mo--" He shut up as they filed past; Mara, Akeja, and the other three children whose names he hadn't caught yet methodically started to file past, perfectly executing the same swing and jump that Laura herself had done.

Too perfectly, to Taskmaster's trained eye. "...What the hell?" They weren't doing something similar - they were mimicking Laura's moves perfectly. The way -he- was about to do. Keeping this detail to himself for now, he completed the little routine and landed on the roof with the others.

By now, Black Ant fully had the attention of the parade; some were laughing raucously, pointing and cheering him on. Others were attacking, small-time D-listers trying to make their name by taking down one of the bigger - literally - criminals of the massive underworld. As always, Bagalia was diverse in both its reactions and its populace. "He going to need help?" One of the children asked, a boy with a shock of blonde hair that nearly covered his whole head.

"Not our concern, Malakai," Adeja replied. "The idiot wants to do something good for once in his life? Let him. You know what he's done for money; he owes this to the world."

"Ungrateful brats," Taskmaster snapped to Laura as he caught up to her. "You hearing this crap? Never did anything to them, but they're acting like Eric and I personally spat on their faces." He glanced sidelong at the child with the broken leg that she was carrying; he'd passed out awhile ago, thanks to the medicine that he'd been given most likely.

"We aren't friends, Taskmaster. I'm here to help you with this one mission - and then we'll go right back to me arresting you for your many, many crimes." She cast him a casually cool look that he had to admit was rather terrifying, even as he fell into step beside her. "The only reason that I didn't last time is because I had more urgent matters to attend to helping my sisters."

"Yeah, we'll burn that bridge when we come to it," Tony replied, brushing off her promise of another fight. "Point is, those kids have a -grudge- against Eric and I; but we've never done a damn thing to them. Ain't that suspicious?"

"Maybe," Laura replied thoughtfully, stopping to look back at the gathered Scions, who were milling in a circle and speaking once more in their personal language. "I'm giving you this advice for the sake of the mission: keep it professional. Don't provoke them about it. If they -do- have reason to be upset with you, trying to pry it out of them is only going to make them resent you even more." Crouching down at the edge of the pharmacy roof, she looked out over the street below. It was total pandemonium; those who weren't focused on Black Ant were fighting amongst themselves, all too eager to take any opportunity to throw their weight about or attempt to kill an old rival.

"So much for the sanctity of 'Bagalia Freedom Day', or whatever," Laura remarked wryly.

"Huh?" Tony stopped beside her, holding up a hand for the children to halt. "What do ya mean? This is exactly the spirit of the holiday. They're embracing what makes this nation-state great!" As far as he was concerned, it was beautiful. A bunch of dumbasses killing each other without an Avenger in sight to mess it up.

Shaking her head in obvious disapproval, Laura peered over the side of the building. "Dumpsters here; we can use the trash to quiet our fall. Come on." And with that, she hopped off. Covering the rear, Tony waved the kids off the building, ignoring the glares from Akeja and Mara as they passed.

Well, 'ignoring' was a strong term for the fact he casually flipped them off in response. Warranted, as far as he saw it. Still, he was starting to see the exhaustion evident in the way they moved; they might have somehow been copying Laura, but they weren't in the kind of shape that she was. They were still tired, starved, and losing motivation by the second.

"Gotta wrap this up soon," he murmured to himself, following the last of the kids off of the edge of the roof."These kids ain't gonna last."

Though they had to wait and waste some valuable time - time that Taskmaster could rather literally feel bleeding out of him - the chaos of the now-forgotten parade eventually allowed them to approach from behind. The tail end of the massive line of supervillains had exploded into a supernova of violence; by giving it a wide berth, the group was able to avoid it. At one point, it almost seemed like a group of costumed mooks that Taskmaster didn't recognize - all dressed like the individual parts of an American flag - were going to look their way...but Black Ant, catching sight of what was happening, came crashing through boot-first, kicking them out of way and scattering them like an exploding Fourth of July firework. "Hahaha! Look at me, I'm anti-colonialism!"

"That was the weirdest thing I've ever seen," Laura proclaimed when they finally managed to cross the avenue, disappearing into an old plaza that had stopped being used when a fallen statue of Baron Zemo had crushed the fountain in the center. "And I'm an X-Man."

"There's nothing more interesting than henchmen off the leash," Tony agreed. "Come on; Eric's not gonna be able to keep them distracted for much longer."

As they fled from the plaza towards the former headquarters of the Masters of Evil, a masked woman watched them from the rooftop. She'd completely ignored the chaos of the 'festival' below, her gaze never leaving the cloaked silhouette of the wounded Taskmaster.

#taskmaster #tony masters #eric o'grady #x-23 #laura kinney #wolverine #fanfiction #marvel comics #marvel #taskmaster: the line

9 notes · View notes

pynkhues · 5 years

Note

If you are still taking prompts could you do one where Beth is shopping buying clothes for the kids and Rio?

Haha, gosh, anon, this is like, 8,000 words (literally) and is 90% Beth being a disaster, so I hope you enjoy it. ;-)

Set in The Centre and Circumference / Domestic Fic universe

Beth’s still pinning up the hem of Emma’s old dress on Jane when Rio steps in through the front door, Marcus’s travel bag slung over one shoulder, and Marcus himself over the other, red cheeked and giggling.

“Hi, honey,” Beth calls out behind her, struggling to keep hold of both her handful of pins and Jane, who’s suddenly squirming with excitement at Marcus’ arrival. “How was your mom’s?”

“It was good, Miss Elizabeth! She said to say thank you for the brownies. We ate them all in five seconds.”

“Five seconds? Damn, no wonder you gettin’ heavy,” Rio says, slinging Marcus off his shoulder and dropping him bodily to the couch. They’ve been out for most of the day, although Beth’s not entirely sure what the plan was beyond the pick-up, lunch to catch-up on the fortnight Marcus has been at Laura’s, then a trip to the batting cages. Beth generally tries not to pry – she likes the fact that Rio treats the days he picks Marcus up from Laura’s as sacred, a time just for them. Likes how seriously he takes his time with him (although Rio does complain it’s more for him these days, with the way Marcus barely says hi before barraging Rio with questions about Jane.

“Half the shit he only tells me coz he’s tellin’ me how hyped he is to tell her,” Rio had said last night, loading the dishwasher while Beth wiped down the kitchen bench. “Askin’ me what I think she’s gonna say. Like he’s testin’ the stories out on me for the real audience.”

“It’s cute,” Beth had cooed in reply, and Rio had levelled her with an unamused stare.

“It’s annoyin’.”)

“Do me!” Jane demands now, watching as Marcus rolls off the couch, straight into one of the piles of clothes on the floor, still giggling. She thrusts her arms up in the air towards Rio, bouncing on her toes, and Beth sighs, gesturing for her to put them back down.

“Let me finish this first, sweetie.”

“Nooo, I want to play rocket lady!”

“Listen to your mama, Jane,” Rio replies easily, and Jane pouts dramatically, watching as Marcus tumbles off the pile of clothes, and practically skips over to Beth and Jane.

“Can we please play, Miss Elizabeth?” Marcus says, adopting his most angelic voice, and Beth internally rolls her eyes, knows that voice well enough these days to know it’s a lie.

“In a minute, okay?” she replies, finishing the last couple of pins on the hem, and gestures for Jane to hold her hands up again, tugging it off over her head. She reaches back to grab the one she was wearing before only to have Jane leap off the coffee table and tear down the hall in her underwear, Marcus giggling on her heels the whole while.

With a groan, Beth sags forwards, folding Jane’s old dress and dropping it back to the floor before grabbing the new, pinned one, and making quick work of making sure the hem is even.

“Everything go okay today?” she asks behind her, and Rio makes a noise of affirmation, before saying, “Want me to get rid of these, mama?”

Twisting on the spot, Beth glances back at where Rio gently kicks at the lined-up row of battered children’s shoes by the door, before dropping Marcus’ bag and starting to reach down to gather up the shoes. Beth frantically shakes her head, waving an arm out at him.

“No, leave them. I’m taking them to the mall to get them re-soled.”

It earns her a disbelieving look from Rio, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead, his mouth open, before he looks back down at the shoes.

“Yeah, these ain’t worth savin’.”

As if to punctuate his point, he grabs a particularly ratty one, letting its sole hang down like a heavy lower lip. He waves it at her.

“It kind of looks like a puppet when you hold it like that,” Beth says, bemused, as she climbs to her feet.

“Kinda looks like trash too.”

“Everything that doesn’t cost a vital organ looks like trash to you,” Beth counters. “You know thrifting is very trendy these days. There are like, these groups on Facebook and everything. It’s very social and it’s like this rejection of fast fashion. You know clothes are becoming one of the biggest waste contributions to landfills?”

Rio’s eyebrow pops up at that, and she knows he’s about to make a joke about her contribution to clothes in landfill – namely the bodies wearing those clothes, before he even makes it.

“Don’t say it,” she tells him, and Rio sucks in his lips, but complies.

“That what you doin’?” he says instead. “Thriftin’?”

“Well, no,” she admits. “These are hand-me-downs. But it’s still keeping it out of landfill.”

She points over to the two piles in the furthest corner by the window.

“Annie and Ruby brought those over the other day. That’s Sara’s and that’s Sadie’s,” she points to the next pile down the line. “Sadie’s stuff goes to Kenny,” then the next pile, “Who’s things go to Danny, who goes to Marcus, who’s things I’ll bundle up for Harry – he really hasn’t hit his growth spurt like Marcus has yet – and your sister’s boys, and anything that they’ve all outgrown can go to Sadie’s brother, Dakota. The girls are a bit easier,” she adds, pointing. “Sara, Emma, Jane.”

By the time she looks back at Rio, he’s just staring at her, a look on his face somewhere between amused and a little horrified, and - - figures, she thinks, rolling her eyes. She’s had to stop Rio throwing out too many shirts since they moved in together – after all, a little bit of blood isn’t that hard to get out. Still, Rio strides over to the pile of clothes beside the couch, crouching down to pull up one of Jane’s old t-shirts from the top of the pile and promptly shoving his hand through the frayed hole separating the collar of it from the rest of it.

“And this?”

Beth just shrugs.

“I wash them and I shred them, and then they’re perfect for stuffing cushions and teddy bears for Christmas. There’s a lot of it this year, so hope your boys are ready for some throw pillows from the boss.”

It’s enough to make Rio laugh, even if his face is twisted into a bit of a cringe, his eyes drifting back to the pile she’s made of Sadie, Kenny and Danny’s old things for Marcus. He rocks his jaw in a way that Beth briefly thinks is unhappy, but she puts the thought out of her head.

It’s just stress, she thinks. After all, the school holidays are over in just two weeks, and this year, it feels big, with all the kids starting at Glenvale Elementary. They all seem to be excited at least – Marcus and Jane in particular at the prospect of being in the same class since they’d basically become joined at the hip over the summer break. No, although they haven’t really talked about it, she knows that all anxiety over the shift are hers and Rio’s. She just worries they’ve made the wrong choice, even though Glenvale had felt so right, and she thinks maybe Rio feels it too.

It’s why it had felt so good to latch onto this tradition. The annual wardrobe cleanout. She’d started it back when she was in school – back after their dad had left and their mom was ill, and she’d needed to make sure she and Annie would have enough clothes that fit for the year, enough in their wardrobes that it wouldn’t raise red flags with teachers or leave them on the backfoot – needed to make sure they had clothes for gym and swim and picture day, and whatever they didn’t have she’d make or borrow or Ruby would help her wrangle from whatever family pass downs she could.

And it had just made sense to keep doing it with her own kids, particularly when Dean had first gotten Boland Motors into trouble. When they’d had to tighten the purse strings the first time. Beth frowns, swallows thickly, the memory coming too quickly of being pregnant with Danny and frantically worrying about just how they were going to pay for their next appointment at the sonographer.

“Kinda figured you the type of mama who thinks clothes are the kids’ creative expression or somethin’.”

The words cut through Beth’s thoughts, her memories, and she blinks up to see Rio looking back at her, and any needling in his voice seems to soften when he sees something on her face, and - - right, Beth thinks. She paints on the best smile she can manage, jokingly rolling her eyes.

“Sure. For Halloween or fancy dress, but their day-to-day clothes should be practical. Functional. I mean, they’re children! I really don’t get this whole thing about fashion for kids.”

Rio just laughs at that, folding Jane’s torn shirt and dropping it back on the pile.

“Don’t worry, baby, no one would mistake you for someone who believed in any type o’ fashion.”

And Beth blinks at that, her mouth ajar. Before she can help herself, she glances down at her grey leggings and her loose floral smock top, and okay, maybe it’s not the picture of fashion, but she’s at home. She bites the inside of her cheek, looking away from him, suddenly annoyed.

“You’re not exactly runway ready yourself,” she bites back, spinning around on the spot. She marches over to Danny’s pile, grabbing one of Kenny’s old shirts, and checks it over. She thinks this one is missing a button, and she’s sure she has one that matches in her spare button jar.

“No? Damn, and here I thought you liked how I dressed.”

The heat finds her cheeks too quickly, and Beth focuses harder on the shirt, running her fingers down the starched fabric.

“It’d be nice if you wore a colour that didn’t make you look like you’d walked out of The Vampire Diaries,” she sniffs, and Rio laughs, because he must get her intent, even though she knows he doesn’t have a clue what that show is (she watched it pretty religiously while she was pregnant with Emma). She fidgets a little on the spot, glances up at him, but he’s crouching down, seemingly re-sorting her piles of clothes, starting with the one for Marcus, and before she can help herself, she asks:

“You really don’t like my clothes?”

“Like gettin’ you out of ‘em,” he replies easily, pulling a face at a checked shirt of Danny’s Beth always liked. When she doesn’t reply, he glances over at her, clocking her expression, and he just sighs. “I don’t care what you wear, you know that, mami.”

She nods, because she does know that, just - -

She shakes her head, tossing Danny’s shirt over her shoulder, and wandering over to the pile from Sara. Most of it she thinks is still a couple of years away from fitting Emma, but she pulls one off the top anyway, shaking it out, and it really is sweet, but - - no. Still another year away at least – Emma really doesn’t have Sara’s height. She folds it up again to put back into the box for next year.

And the thing is, she expects Rio just to leave. To go chase after Marcus, get him upstairs and unpacked like he usually would, only Rio doesn’t. He stays, making careful work of going through first Marcus’ piles, and then the rest of them, refolding them, seeing the adjustments that Beth has already made, the mark-ups and pins, the notes she’s made on post-its about buttons and tailoring, and Beth’s just - - she’s not really sure what to make of that at all.

“I give Marcus a budget.”

The words are sudden, stark through the post-dinner-post-kids-to-bed fog of Beth’s head, and she blinks over at where Rio has suddenly materialised in the doorway between their en suite and bedroom, his naked torso shimmering with the remnants of his shower, white towel low on his waist, steam billowing out behind him, and it just - - well. Beth flushes before she can help herself, pulling a set of clean pyjamas for herself out of the bottom drawer of their tallboy.

“You give a seven-year-old a budget?” she asks, latching onto the point more than anything, amusement heavy in her tone, and Rio makes a noise of affirmation, striding over to stand beside her and unfolding the knot on his towel.

“Two-fifty,” Rio says, slinging the towel over his shoulder and grabbing clean underwear from one of the top drawers. “Start of the school year. Tell him it’s gotta go across all o’ it – pyjamas, bathin’ suit, socks, jocks, clothes for school. Let him pick what he wants. Think it helps him know what money means, what it’s worth, how he’s gotta spend it, that he can’t get everythin’ he wants. All that shit.”

It’s enough to make Beth reel back a bit, to stare at Rio, naked beside her as he shakes out a pair of grey boxer briefs. He’s casual as he talks about it – easy in that way he can manage, but there’s something a little different underneath it too. Something that, if she didn’t know any better, she’d almost say was cautious, but Beth has no idea what to do with that.

“Seven,” she reiterates instead, and Rio turns suddenly to face her, stepping into his underwear, and she has to look away because - - god, the sight of him naked still makes her blush.

“Never too early to start learnin’ about money.”

He says it like it’s easy, like it’s that simple, like he’s not talking about a child, and before she can help herself, Beth is laughing, stepping away from their tallboy, away from him. She shoves her pyjamas beneath her arm and grabs a hair tie off her bedside table, tossing her hair up, just starting to make tracks to shower herself.

“Please,” she says rolling her eyes, but before she can add anything to it, Rio interrupts.

“I’m thinkin’ we go to the mall when you takin’ in the shoes, we give all the kids the same rules. They get two-fifty each and a list o’ what they gotta get and we let them decide. You still got your hand-me-downs, still keepin’ shit outta landfill, but they got a few things they picked for themselves too.”

And just - - what? Beth blinks back at him, her forehead furrowing, and she’s laughing before she can help herself, her voice heavy with disbelief.

“Rio, they’re children, what are they going to do with $250? Probably buy like, a game thing or a Spiderman costume.”

It’s sudden then, the sharpness of his exhale, him lurching, half naked towards his side of the bed. He tosses back the sheets, rocks his jaw, and it’s strange because she feels it – the fact that she might’ve done something to really offend him, when he suddenly just laughs, eyes darting up to her, something acidic in his gaze.

“Don’t you wish you’d learnt anythin’ about handlin’ money before you had to rob a grocery store?”

It hits like a poison dart – the words themselves sharp, but the deeper they settle in her, the worse they feel, and Beth’s reeling backwards, her eyes unblinking, her lips parted.

“Excuse me?”

And she knows he regrets it, can hear it in the change in his breath and the way he looks away from her, the way he sucks in his lips, but she can also tell that he meant it, and that only pushes the words deeper.

“Come on, mami,” he says, tone quietening, like this is meant to soften the blow. “You know it ain’t the area you smartest in.”

“Says the guy who wants to spend more than $1,200 at the mall this weekend on clothes they’re going to - - to grow out of or ruin or - - ”

“Nuh, it’s about teachin’ em about money, and lettin’ ‘em pick who they wanna be. What they wanna project out in the world instead o’ - - shit - - bein’ Jane and walkin’ around in clothes her cousin picked out ten years ago. Clothes that all her fuckin’ siblings have worn before her.”

And she just - - stares at him, stares at his broad shoulders and his sharp features and his young, one child, perfect family face and suddenly feels breathless with anger. She scrambles to pick her pyjamas off the floor – hadn’t even realised she’d dropped them – before waving a hand at him across the bed.

“How dare you,” she hisses. “You can play at authority in a lot of areas, but not in this. I’ve been raising children a lot longer than you have and you can’t just waltz in here and - - ”

“Oh, okay,” Rio interjects, laughing, but it’s not amused, the sound tight in his throat. “So you can decide my kid’s gonna spend the school year in your kids’ hand-me-downs, but I don’t get to even suggest nothin’ for yours? Okay.”

But that’s not - - Beth’s shaking her head, still furious, but also - -

“No,” she says. “That’s not what I - - “

But Rio just yanks back the sheets harder, his face set firm in anger.

“Yeah, no, I heard you, baby. Don’t worry. Loud and clear.”

Beth exhales, chest suddenly raw, watching as Rio clambers heavily into bed, then immediately gets out of it again, bristling with energy. He strides back over to their tallboy, yanks open a drawer, like he’s going to get changed, when he suddenly thinks better of it. He slams it shut, says:

“Elizabeth, I’m a fuckin’ good fa– ”

At the same time that she says:

“I’m not bad with money, I just - - ”

They both stop, staring at each other across the bedroom, and it’s Rio who breaks the quiet.

“Just what?” he asks her, and Beth meets his gaze, and she wants to say it. Wants to tell him.

I just never had any of my own before now.

But just - - god. Her chest flushes with shame, and it’s too pathetic, she thinks, to even think it opposite him like this. This guy. This man. Who had to be talked into a budget for the house they bought together, who can drop thousands of dollars on paintings with a flick of his hand, and even more on business investments and now apparently gives a small child a cheque to shop with and just - -

Beth’s still learning how to buy the premium brand of washing powder without feeling guilty at the grocery store.

“I’m going to have a shower,” she says, looking away from him. She hears him exhale, something between pissed off and resigned, and she adds, “Don’t wait up,” before she closes the en suite door behind her.

She strips quickly, flicking the shower on, and leaving it a second, maybe two, before pushing herself beneath the stream of water and letting it engulf her. She’s being unfair, her head tells her, and Beth grabs her bodywash, squirting a generous helping into her hand. He could never understand, her heart tells her, and Beth reaches for the bath lily, rubbing it into the body wash and furiously massaging it into her body.

It’s not like he’s wrong exactly. She knows the kids don’t love the hand-me-downs, just like she knows that they’re different – that Jane hates Emma’s frilly dresses, and how much Danny’s colouring differs from Kenny’s, but they have their entire lives to explore that, and right now it’s having enough to wear that keeps you warm and safe and happy and - - sure, okay. It’s not like Beth can’t afford clothes for them now, but maybe - - maybe it’s surprised her.

The way Rio had had an opinion on this.

Dean had always let her raise the kids how she wanted, had never argued with it, because she was the one with both the experience (Annie) and the means (the uterus and the patience), but that doesn’t mean that Rio was ever going to do that – in fact, it would be weirder if he did just let her carry on as normal, because he was right. He is a good father, she knows that, she loves that, and she just - -

She shifts beneath the stream of water, closes her eyes, lifts her chin.

She tries to clear her winding mind.

She hasn’t slept.

Not at all, she doesn’t think, although maybe she has. She thinks maybe getting out of the shower hours ago to Rio asleep in their bed had given her enough spite to furiously fall asleep herself. Burning with the desire to be able to give him a clear faced, refreshed, lock-jawed grin in the morning, only it hadn’t worked out that way. She thinks she’s maybe had an hour’s sleep at most.

She rolls over again, huffs a little into the pillow, and she feels him shift too beside her, and just - - before she can help herself, she says:

“Maybe a hundred, not two-fifty.”

The words hang heavy in the night, and right - - he’s asleep, Beth thinks, but still. She feels a weight off her chest at the potential to compromise, to get this thing working for them, and - -

“Two hundred.”

The voice is gravelly, hoarse, but she recognises it too well – the lack of sleep in it, and has he been faking being asleep? She blinks over at him, but he doesn’t roll over to meet her, so she quickly rolls away again too, biting her cheek, facing the far wall of their bedroom.

“One-fifty,” she counters with, and before he can say anything else, she adds: “I’m not - - that’s it, okay? Final offer.”

He grunts at that, the bed shifting beneath them, and she knows he’s turned around to face her, can feel the heat of his gaze on her, can always feel that, but she refuses to turn around, refuses to give him anything but her back right now, because she’s not sure what she’ll feel if she looks at him, but it’s relief that uncurls in her chest when he agrees.

“We really don’t like to re-sole a shoe more than twice, Ms. Boland. Maybe three times if it’s a good quality shoe, but these are - -”

The cobbler rolls out his hand, and Beth flushes, pushing her handbag strap up her arm, trying to ignore the bustle of the mall behind her. Trying to focus instead on the multitude of children’s shoes she’s laid out on the counter between them, finding herself unreasonably glad that Rio had agreed to take the kids to the first stores of the day while she did this.

“Right, okay,” she says, grabbing a particularly battered pair from him, and looking out over the rest. “Are there any you can do?”

He agrees to four or five pairs at least, enough that she can justify the trip, and she offers a quick thanks, pushing the rest back down into the tote bag she’d brought them in and shuffling out of the repairs store, back out into the belly of the mall. She checks her phone for any messages, but there’s only one from Ruby, asking about coffee in the morning, which Beth replies to, before checking the time.

It’s barely past 11, and her and Rio had agreed to meet up in the food court at noon unless she found them earlier, but screw it, she thinks petulantly, lugging the bag of children’s shoes over her shoulder. Let him struggle with the kids and their budgets a little longer.

She finds herself wandering in and out of a few different stores instead, earmarking things in her head for Christmas – a new kettle and toaster set for Annie in a bright metallic blue, Egyptian Cotton bed sheets for Ruby and Stan, even finds a table cloth set which really would look lovely with Rio’s mom’s flatware, and she’s making a list on her phone when she wanders past a store entrance and stops.

On the table out front is a row of folded sweaters – all rich, midnight blues and slate greys and heavy blacks, with a subtle V-neckline, and on their own, they’re nice, but they’re not on their own. Beside them are matching ones in children’s sizes, and she can’t help it. How quickly she imagines Rio and Marcus in them. Imagines them together – Marcus sitting on the step below his father like in the photograph she knows is Rio’s favourite, sees Marcus slung over Rio’s shoulder, sees Marcus asleep against Rio’s side in the backseat of her minivan, sees the photo already that she’d keep on her phone, just - - sees them.

She blinks, mouth dry, looking back down at the display. The slate grey would be the one he’d get, she knows that already, but she finds her hands drifting to a softer colour, something a little cooler – a grey-teal that would look so sweet on Marcus, and handsome on Rio, and just - -

Is this even something they do? Buy clothes for each other?

What if she buys it and he doesn’t like it? What if he makes it a joke – her buying clothes after being so insistent on hand-me-downs? What if - -

She bites the inside of her cheek, dropping her hand awkwardly. She can see a sales assistant inside the store clock her, start to make their way over, and it’s enough for Beth to wave a hand out at her, dismissing her, but when that doesn’t work, she quickly steps back out into the mall, away from it.

It’s almost noon anyway.

The plastic bag crinkles loudly as Emma pulls out the dress in the middle of the food court, her eyes big as she shows it off – and it really is beautiful. A soft cream tulle speckled with gold sequins, the Zara label hanging off the back of it. Pressing it to herself, Emma gives the biggest twirl she can manage, almost taking out a poor kid at the next table in the process, and Beth laughs, shooting the other family an apologetic look before beckoning Emma closer to the table.

“Careful, sweetie.”

Giggling, Emma nods, giving Beth the dress before rummaging in another bag for a shoebox.

“And I got boots just like you too, mommy!”

With that, she yanks out a tiny pair of black ankle boots with a low heel and a bow. They really are sweet too, Beth thinks, slipping on a look of dutiful awe as Emma preens, delighted whether at her purchase of Beth’s approval, it’s hard to say.

“They’re beautiful,” Beth enthuses, glancing sideways at Rio who’s mostly distracted trying to get ketchup off Jane’s forehead and god, how’d she even get it there? “Did you get a new bathing suit too?”

Like you actually needed, Beth thinks, and Emma shakes her head.

“Not yet, but I’ve still got - - hmm,” Emma frowns, putting the shoes back in the box and pushing them into her bag. She slides back onto the bench and grabs her notebook out of her fluffy Barbie handbag, flipping to a marked page. She frowns, before looking over at Rio. “Mr. Rio, can you help?”

And it’s almost too easy, the way Rio drags Jane into his lap to keep mopping her up as he slides them both across the bench to sit beside Emma. He looks over her shoulder, down at her notebook.

“Right, see so that dress was $36 and those boots were $40, so - - what’s six plus zero?”

“Six!” Emma says easily, smiling, and Rio nods, gaze dropping down to Jane’s hands, he gestures at Beth for a fresh wet wipe, which she pulls from the packet in her purse, passing it over.

“That’s good. And what’s three plus four?”

“Seven!”

“Right again, darlin’. So that means you’ve spent $76, which is almost exactly half your budget,” he tells her, wiping Jane’s hands as she wriggles back against his chest. “Now you got that other half to get your swimsuit and some pyjamas and some socks. Think we can swing it?”

“Yup!” Emma says happily, and Rio grins down at her.

“Me too.”

The bustle of the food court feels dense around them, a cacophony of sound, the overwhelming smell of burgers, hot dogs, tacos filling her nose. And it’s strange, how unaffected Rio seems by it, because he makes no secret of hating this sort of thing when it’s just the two of them, but with the kids here, it’s different. He’s different, and Beth knew that, knew he became the picture of patience with them, but - - she bites the inside of her cheek, glancing down, which was the wrong choice, because suddenly all she can see is all the bags of stuff around them – the sneakers that Kenny’s bought and the three animal onesies that Jane’s bought (and at least those are pyjamas). Before she can help herself, she exhales sharply, a strange feeling unfurling in her chest at the prospect, her fingers clenching, only they’re clenching in this sparkling dress of Emma’s and Beth makes a noise in the back of her throat. The sound is enough to make Rio glance over at her, his eyes flicking across her face, before he scoots away from Emma, dropping Jane into the space between them.

“Why don’t you guys figure out what’s takin’ the boys so long,” he says, gesturing with a flick of his chin over to the ice cream stand where Kenny and Marcus are still deciding on flavours. The girls hum happily, sliding off the bench and darting across the food court towards them. Rio turns better towards her, opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Beth’s interrupting.

“When on earth is she going to wear this?” she asks, shaking out the dress before folding it again and slipping it back into the bag, and Rio just looks at her, jaw rocking briefly, before he says:

“Whenever she wants. It’s her budget. We talked it out. She knows it means she can’t get nothin’ else fancy. The rest of its gonna be basics.”

Shaking her head, Beth lurches up off the bench, starting to pack up the mess from the burgers they’d had for lunch.

“It’s a waste of money.”

“Not to her.”

He offers it simply, calmly, and Beth hates the way her hands clench around the burger wrappers, the way her chest seizes, her stomach flutters, and she just - - looks at him across the table. Looks at where he stares right back at her, his eyes open, blinking almost lazily, and he doesn’t even look defensive, or annoyed, just - -

She doesn’t really know what he’s looking like.

Suddenly though he looks away, and Beth’s glad for it. Feels almost released from it, only the feeling doesn’t last long, not when he looks beneath the table at their piles of bags and sees the tote full of shoes.

“Thought you were takin’ those to get fixed?” he says, and Beth blinks back at him, mouth open for a second, feeling the heat rise up her chest, before she puts on a self-deprecating laughs, waves one hand at him while she refocuses on packing up lunch.

“Oh! Yeah, I got distracted, haven’t taken them yet.”

“Distracted by what?”

Beth just gestures vaguely around before grabbing the napkin full of Danny’s uneaten pickles (he really does hate them) and bundling that up for the bin too.

“We’re in a mall. There’s a lot to be distracted by.”

With that, she walks all the rubbish over to the bin, shoving it through the flap, briefly glad for the reprieve of that too. She glances up over the fray of the crowd getting lunch, out to where the kids are finally starting to settle on flavours under Emma’s bossy instruction, the line lengthening behind them, and she really should go over, should round them up, but - -

She looks back at where Rio’s starting to get the bags together again, watches him peer into the tote, looking at the shoes, and she’s striding back before she can help herself, weirdly tense at the thought of him realising some of them aren’t there, like he’d find out that way that the cobbler couldn’t even mend them. She snatches the bag out of his grip, and Rio stares at her, eyebrows high on his forehead before they furrow.

“We still fightin’?”

And just - -

What?

She blinks hard at him.

“What?”

“We still fightin’? Or what are we doin’?” he asks, waving a hand out at her, voice low and hoarse. “Kinda figured we were good last night, compromisin’ and what not, but you actin’ all sore.”

“I’m not acting sore.”

Rio grunts, rocks his jaw, looking back at where the kids are starting back towards them, ice cream cones in hand, and god, Jane’s is already dripping down her fingers, and then she thinks of Rio, minutes ago, patiently cleaning her up without complaint, Jane not fighting it like she always does with Beth, and Beth just - -

How does this get to be easy for him too?

“C’mon,” he says beside her, and Beth blinks, jerked from her thoughts.

“No, I’ve got to - - ”

“We can take the shoes at the end,” he tells her, tilting his head over to the children. “Shop with your kids, Elizabeth.”

Beth closes her mouth and nods.

Danny’s forehead furrows, glancing between the three pyjama sets Beth’s holding up for him, tapping his chin.

“I really want the Minecraft ones,” he decides, and Beth exhales in relief, tossing them easily over her shoulder.

“Okay,” she says, readjusting her grip on the other two sets, holding them down so that they’re practically eye level with him. “Then you’ve got to pick between the Star Wars ones and the Pikachu ones. That’s all the money you’ve got left.”

Nodding, Danny’s little face scrunches up in seriousness, the weight of the consideration heavy there, and if Beth were any less exhausted, it really would be pretty cute.

“Star Wars,” he decides. “Mr Rio said they’ve gotta last the whole year, and Kenny says Pikachu’s only for babies.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Beth replies, making a mental note to talk to Kenny later. “I think Pikachu can be for anybody.”

But Danny’s made up his mind, so Beth throws the Finn pyjamas over her shoulder with the Minecraft ones and hooks the Pikachu ones back on the rack.

“I wish I had more money,” Danny says with a pout, eyeing off the bright yellow pyjamas on the rack, and Beth hums, double checking the price tags on the two sets Danny’s picked, making sure it really will fit into his budget.

“Well, you can always save up your allowance and get them.”

“Mr Rio said if I do more chores I’ll get more money too,” Danny says happily. “And then I can buy everything I want.”

The thought sits strangely in Beth’s ears, almost like an insect, legs sticking out at angles, and it takes her a moment to process it, to look back down at Danny’s freckled face and frown.

“Not everything can be bought, honey,” she says, and Danny shrugs, only half paying attention, eyes already on the lookout for his siblings, and Beth’s feels irritation spark in her belly. “Danny!”

He does look up at her then, eyes wide at the sharpness in her tone, and it’s enough to make her instantly regret it. She tries for a smile, tries to smooth out her features, to soften her look.

“You’re very lucky, to be able to do this,” she tries. “Me and your father have always worked very hard, and we couldn’t always afford to give you this, and there might be times in your life again where we can’t. Sometimes hard work gives you money, yes, but sometimes it pays you in other ways – like with experience and - - ”

She fumbles briefly for the words, and Danny just stares up at her, looking chastised, and god, this isn’t what she wanted. She closes her eyes briefly.

“Money isn’t everything, that’s all I’m saying,” she says after a second, and Danny frowns softly up at her.

“I know, mom. And I like some of the hand-me-downs too. Like Sadie’s brown coat!”

And she almost hates it, the relief that the words give her, the way they settle warm in her chest like a gift. Her smile loosens up, becomes something real, something easy. She loosens her grip on Danny’s pyjamas and, god, she hadn’t realised she was holding onto them that tight.

“That one is pretty cool, huh?”

Danny hums in agreement.

“Even Marcus thinks it’s cool. I told him he can have it after me.”

Beth’s smile widens even more at that, her heart lightening as she glances over at where Marcus is chattering to Jane in the aisle, comparing their bags of clothes, and Beth bites her lip, looking over at where Rio’s on his cell, talking to somebody in code, bags of kids clothes slung over his shoulder, and just - - she bites her lip harder. Passing the pyjamas to Danny, she says:

“Want to go show these to Emma and Kenny?”

Danny hums happily, trotting off down the aisle towards his brother and sister, and Beth sucks in a breath, looking over at Rio, who’s just finished his call, and right, she thinks, collecting herself, hand tightening on the straps of her handbag and her tote. She wanders over to him, something like an apology sweetening on her tongue when she hears a rip, feels a weight release, and before she can stop it, the strap on the tote has snapped.

Torn shoes spill out across the store floor, almost in slow motion, and she quickly drops low, scrambling to pick them up, shoving them back into the tote. It feels like everyone’s looking at her, even though she’s sure they’re not, mortification flushing across her chest, and god, she didn’t even want to be here, she just wanted to go to the shoe repair place and then she wanted to go home and spend the weekend at her sewing machine, and - -

And suddenly Rio’s big, steady hands are there too, making quick work of picking up the rest of the shoes, and Beth’s snatching them from his grip before he can give them to her, shoving them into the bag, her chest flushed, and she can just feel him looking at her, and she hates it.

“Guess you won, huh?” she hisses at him before she can stop herself. “Congratulations. That’s what you wanted, right? God forbid everything don’t work out exactly how you want it.”

Thing is, Rio does look briefly smug at that, like he can’t quite help himself either, having taken no offense apparently at her snatching the shoes away from him, and that just serves to fan the flames of her embarrassment which stokes the embers of her fury, and she’s just talking before she can stop herself, a rambling mess as she keeps pushing wrecked shoes into her broken bag.

“Even the kids can learn to budget money and I’m just the idiot who waited until I was forty to do it, and you get to teach me and them at the same time, because I’m the one who brought a bag full of shoes to the mall the cobbler won’t even fix, and I’m the one sending our kids to school in - - rags, and - -”

She inhales, breathless suddenly, and she has to look away from him, blood thundering in her ears, hands shaking, and then Rio’s big, steady hands are on her arms, yanking her up so quickly she drops the bag of shoes all over again, but he doesn’t let her stop to pick it up. His hand moves promptly to her wrist, tugging her behind him, out into the aisle, pausing only briefly to tell Marcus and Jane to go to Kenny, and then they’re moving again, and Beth’s throat feels tight, because she knows exactly what he’s doing. Has seen him do this with the kids – seen him haul them off when they’re throwing tantrums, and that’s not what she’s doing, that’s not what this is, but - - okay, maybe it is too, she thinks, letting Rio walk them over to the fitting rooms, ignoring the shop assistant, and shove Beth into the first empty one he can find. She almost stumbles head first into the mirrored wall, spinning around to see Rio slip in behind her, lock the door, clench his eyes shut and pinch the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

And then they just - - stand there.

Staring at each other, stuck in this tiny fitting room, and Beth’s chest is flushed and heaving, even beneath the neck of her sweater, and Rio’s still not looking at her, not doing anything except rubbing furiously at his face, eyes shut, and Beth refuses to be the one to break the quiet, not when he was the one who dragged her in here.

“Okay,” he says after another minute. He drops his hand, stares at her. “You know I love playin’ with you, darlin’, but we ain’t playin’ like this with the kids. We gotta be a team.”

“I know that,” Beth says sharply, and he shakes his head, his own voice raising.

“Nah, you don’t. You actin’ like coz you got the majority – those four kids you been tellin’ me about as long as I known you – that you call all the shots here.”

And just - - that’s not fair, she thinks, her arms flailing out either side of her.

“I let you try this budget thing, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but you ain’t on board. I know it, and the kids know it, and shit, Elizabeth, that ain’t how I’m doin’ this.”

“I have a system that works!”

“Yeah, me too!”

He sucks in a breath, blinks hard all of a sudden, like he’s just realised how loud his voice had gotten, or maybe like he remembers the last time they said those words to each other, only then it was about counterfeit money, and not their children and it’s enough to make him push his hands on his hips. He stares angrily at the floor for a minute, and she remembers him last night, the way she’d thought she’s offended him, the sentence he hadn’t finished – I’m a fuckin’ good fa-

Guilt spikes in her gut, and Beth looks away, curling her arms around her waist. Outside she can hear customers quietly leaving their own change rooms, whispering to one another, and god, heat finds her cheeks, because there’s no way they’re not whispering about them, and Beth briefly clenches her eyes shut, shifting her weight.

“You spend too much money,” Beth tells him softly, or not him, tells the change room wall, and Rio exhales harshly.

“I ever done anythin’ to make you think I ain’t in control of my spendin’?”

“You spend too much money on us,” Beth corrects, her eyes flicking up to him, and Rio’s jaw rocks as he looks back at her.

“It’s our money,” he tells her. “We earn it together, don’t we? Partners and whatnot. Figure we got enough to spend some on us and ours too.”

And she knows he’s right – knows that she needs to get better at this, but money has always been something elusive to her, too difficultly earned, too easily lost, whether through Dean or through her own mistakes and - - sure, it’s not like she’s burying her money in her backyard anymore, but still. She can’t help but feel like this level of stability is temporary, but then - - she looks up at Rio. She thinks about his steady hands, on her hips, on her wrist, gentle against her cheek.

She thinks about them cleaning Jane’s ketchup-covered fingers, thinks about them helping with the buckles on Emma’s shoes or plucking the pencil out of Danny’s fingers to help him with homework, and just - -

“The kids are really happy,” she says. “I think the budget thing makes them feel really grown up.”

Rio looks a little smug at that, but he swallows the grin before it can settle, nods, says:

“Mmm. Marcus won’t stop yappin’ about some coat of your nephew’s too. Danny’s gonna need to watch his back, kid might not wait for him to outgrow it.”

Beth barks on a laugh, surprised, and the look of it all makes Rio grin for real, and just - - god, she loves his smile. Not the smug one, but this one, the one that splits his face into perfect fractions, that gives him crows feet, that shows off his perfect teeth, that somehow just makes him impossibly handsome and never doesn’t leave her breathless, and she thinks of telling him that, but instead she says:

“The cobbler would only re-sole like, four pairs of shoes,” because he’d find out sooner or later, and really she does want to moan about it and she isn’t sure she can wait until coffee with Ruby tomorrow. Rio exhales something that could almost be a laugh.

“So you sayin’ I was right about them?”

Beth rolls her eyes, rolls out a hand too, conceding, but doesn’t say it, and a slight spark of annoyance moves into Rio’s look which makes her feel weirdly vindicated in a way she can’t really help. It’s not like he hasn’t annoyed her for most of the day, but then that thought alone makes her bite the inside of her cheek. She looks back up at him.

“Are we bad at this?”

“How many times I gotta tell you, darlin’? I ain’t bad at nothin’.”

“Please,” she says with a snort. “I’ve seen you burn a pan before you even put anything in it.”

It’s enough to make him make a noise of mock outrage, which gets a giggle out of Beth, and just - - god, how does he do that? How does he infuriate and diffuse and comfort and just - - fix it like that? How does he look at her and figure out exactly what it is that’s ticking inside of her?

She swallows thickly, looking away, but before she can think much more of it, Rio’s speaking again.

“Saw somethin’ I almost bought you,” he tells her, and Beth looks back at him again, gaze flicking across her face, tracing the too-innocent set to his expression, the wetness of his lips, like he’s just licked them, and she arches an eyebrow.

“Let me guess, lingerie?”

Rio’s look of faux outrage returns in force, head shaking, eyes wide in make believe horror.

“Where you think I’ve been takin’ the kids?”

And - - right, Beth thinks, flushing right up to the shells of her ears, which only makes Rio grin. He promptly shrugs.

“Just pyjamas,” he tells her. “Know how much you like ‘em. Don’t think you got any new ones since we moved in together.”

She looks at him, trying to read into his expression, and it is a little too innocent, but it’s also - - innocent, she thinks. Not salacious, and it’s not like he would’ve detoured the kids to anywhere racy, and just - - then she thinks of that sweater she’d seen for him, and the matching one for Marcus, and just - -

“Buy it,” she says, ignoring the little voice in her head that tells her it’ll be too much. “And I’ll buy something for you. It can - - be a new tradition. I mean, it’s the start of the school year for us too.”

And Rio just grins wide at her.

And okay, maybe he doesn’t love the sweater, but Marcus does, practically glowing at the prospect of matching his dad, and she was right about it looking sweet on Marcus and handsome on Rio, the smoky teal somehow making him look all the sharper, the pointed V bringing out the lines of the hawk on his neck.

And he wears it in the afternoon, wears it to bed, pulling out the pyjamas he got her, which are less pyjamas and more nightie which is long, at least, she thinks, giving him an unamused look at the plunging neckline and relatively modest lace bust, but maybe the navy of it brings out her eyes, and the softness of her skin, and maybe it feels good too, the way Rio looks at her in it.

Maybe it feels even better to know it’s the same way he looks at her in her floral blouses and jeans. Maybe it keeps feeling good when Rio’s between her legs, the nightie up around her hips, her knees over his shoulders, ankles scrambling at his back. Maybe it even feels good when Rio sinks his teeth into the inside of her thigh just to make her gasp, and says:

“Gonna need to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” she asks breathlessly, back arching off the bed as he teases her entrance with the rough pad of his finger.

“That I was right about the shoes.”

And well, Beth thinks, glancing down at him, letting the challenge rest heavy in her eyes.

“Make me.”

And he does.

A few times.

#beth x rio #beth boland #rio #kenny boland #danny boland #marcus #emma boland #jane boland #my fic #the center and circumference #prompt fills

39 notes · View notes