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itsyou-itsme-itsus · 4 years ago

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Gambled Away

Dark Avengers AU!

Summary: Your boyfriend Scott has a gambling issue that finally catches up with him when he plays the wrong people.

All Avengers are dark.

I don’t own any of the characters just writing for fun.

Warnings: Its a little violent and no smut yet but small hints of dubcon. Do Not read if this is not your thing!

The restaurant was the literal definition of a hole in the wall. Somewhere in the dead center of New York your boyfriend Scott brought you here. He swore up and down this was the best Italian food in all of New York. You had your suspicions. The walls were a faded red paint looked rusty, likely meant to be deep maroon at some point. Spots near the ceiling were chipped and peeling away. Risking the chance of dropping paint chips into the food or drinks. The floor tiles were covered in a greasy brownish grime. Black soot sat wedged within the cracks.

You cringed feeling lucky to have not seen any cock roaches scurry around. The night was young so you didn’t fully let your guard down yet. The cleanliness of the restaurant was questionable and there was no way a health inspector allowed this. You wondered what could have been keeping them a float. Bribes? Maybe a secret laundering service in the back.

“Oh Mr. Lang. Welcome back. Will you be having the house special?” A tall man with dirty blonde hair and glasses came out.

He sounded smart, his enunciation almost sounded robotic or artificial. He shot you a sympathetic side ways glance. He seemed so out of place to be working in a dump like this.

“We’ll be right back.” Scott said pushing the employee towards the kitchen.

“Scott wai-“ they disappeared before another word could reach your boyfriend’s ears. It was hard to hold back the audible huff of annoyance that crept up from the pit of your stomach.

Like a rancid taste in your mouth that wouldn’t go away, there was a tugging in your chest. Something felt off and it wasn’t just the sketchy nature of the restaurant. More details started to become more apparent. There seemed to be only one employee in the back and no other staff since you walked in. Feeling the need to plan an escape route you doubled checked the space between you and the door behind you. It was glass looking out into the busy streets of New York a Seven Eleven sat on the corner across from the restaurant.

Tony’s was painted across the top of the glass in white stenciled paint. Parts of it were fading a little. No one had even come out to ask you for your drink order. The urge to run out the door and home was strong. You wanted to give Scott the benefit of the doubt because he was so sweet! You would just have to put your foot down towards these kinds of situations.

“Who is all here tonight Vis?” Scott asked following Vis to the basement door.

Vis didn’t need to answer when he opened the door it had told Scott his answer. Sitting at the table was Bucky, Steve and Natasha. He had prayed that it was Tony and Sam. They often had higher payouts and were surprisingly more merciful when Scott lost or had to take a couple weeks to get the money back. It was more of fun competition among the wealthy. While the poker games with these three were often high stakes and more ruthless. They would be more likely to break your leg if you didn’t have the money to give them the next day.

“You know what. I should probably just get back upstairs.” Scott tried to hurry and escape before he buried himself.

“No, we need a fourth.” Steve spoke tapping a deck of crisp cards on the table.

“Shit.” Scott muttered to himself before smiling and agreeing. He sat down and watched as Bucky slid him over a stack of chips.

“Buy in is $300.” Natasha said pinching out a few 20s and setting them in the middle of the table. Bucky followed suit and waited for Scott and Steve.

Scott looked into his pockets. He only had about 2k on him. The pot was steep. But he swallowed hard and asked that luck be on hid side tonight. He peeled out $300 from the stack in his pocket and put it with Bucky and Natasha’s. Steve was the last to put his down.

Scott always won due to his calm demeanor and straight poker faces. It always worked in bluffs with Tony and Sam. Not with these three sharks. They were mercenaries and ex-assassins. They knew how to read through someones facade.

As Scott waited for Steve to finish shuffling the cards he let his eyes wonder. In the far corner of the room near the door was a large TV screen. On the screen was the video live streaming from upstairs. Scott could see you in the chair at the table looking around nervously. He was starting to wish he had just taken you to a real restaurant. This might cause you to break up with him.

“I’ll see your $100 and raise you $200.” Bucky said to Nat. She smirked at him fanning her cards up at eye level.

“Bet.” Scott said nervously.

“Bet.” Steve stared down Scott. They knew all about how Scott had been cleaning poker games out in different parts of New York. He had gotten infamous for taking home 500,000 to a million a game.

Steve normally wouldn’t of cared until he heard that his friends Sam and Tony had lost 2.5 million dollars to Scott last week. Steve wanted to get Scott out of the gambling world, to teach him a lesson. To Steve People like Scott were pests. An invasive little ant marching around like it owned everything in someone else’s kitchen. He figured just like an ant he’d rough Scott up and send a message to all the other ants out there. Slowly poison the nests within the area.

Scott kept playing his hand quietly and safely. For the first time in his life he had folded in one round. This pissed Steve off, fueling his fists for when they took Scott into the back Alleyway behind the dumpsters.

The air felt thick and ominous. Scott was beginning to perspire. His leg bounced uncontrollably and he kept looking up at the camera feed. Natasha caught on to this and nodded to Bucky and Steve they looked up to see a beautiful younger woman sitting in the upstairs restaurant area.

She looked nervous as she looked at the kitchen door and then back at the front entrance. Steve couldn’t help but think of how innocent and sweet she looked. Not like the usual girls who came through here. It was easy right away to tell that she had no idea what kind of place she was in.

“Vision.” Steve yelled standing.

“One moment.”

Steve met Vis at the door. They began to whisper and a vis’s face fell. He nodded, complying and left with the door shutting behind him.

“Hello, can I get you anything to drink?” You jumped startled at the sound popping up behind you.

“Sorry, I did not mean to frighten you.”

“That’s alright.”

Vis smiled and waited patiently for your order.

“Oh right. I’ll have ice water please.” Vis internally sighed the only other options would of been strong liquors, beer or wine.

“I’ll be right back with that.” Vis smiled and walked back towards the kitchen.

He had been instructed to make sure you didn’t leave. He worried what was to happen. He wanted to tell you to leave but if they caught you on camera and Bucky got to chase you, it would be far worse than if he just did his job. Vis scrambled through the fridge and realized that there was no food in the entire place. Thinking fast he decided to call the pizzeria down the block and instructed they come to the back door of the kitchen.

He came out with a smile and set down a bottle of water. You eyed it, raising an eyebrow before twisting open the cap and taking a sip.

“Thank you.” You trailed off feeling awkward. Vis smiled and excused himself to the kitchen again.

Scott had to hold back celebrating his first win. Bucky grunted pushing the pile towards Scott. Nat shot him death glares and Steve, seemed to be somewhere else. Just as they expected Scott raised the pot. He got his confidence back and had planned to rake it all in tonight and leave to take you to the kind of restaurant you deserved to eat at.

The second and third time Scott won he was all out. Smiling leaning in to pull the cash to him. He laughed and gloated while the others watched him. The more confident Scott got the sloppier his tactics were. He became more reckless with his hands.

“I need a drink.” Bucky growled. He stood and brought back three glasses to the table. Giving Nat, Steve and Scott each a glass. Bucky poured whiskey in each glass and leaned back to take a swig straight from the bottle.

“Well this has been great guys. But I’m all in!” Scott said reloading the middle of the table with the last pot.

“All in.”

Once all in everyone watched and loosely played their hands. They wanted Scott to win. Scott was the only one who was unaware of this.

“Royal fluuuuush baby!” Scott yelled flopping the cards onto the table. The others leaned back poorly feigning disappointment but Scott wouldn’t notice in his moment of glory!

Scott was so happy! He kept dropping cash as he tried to gather it all. He used his jacket as a sash to help him carry the load. He quickly shot you a text saying pick a new place to eat at, anywhere you wanted to go. While he was scooping up his earnings he hadn’t noticed that Bucky perched himself near the door, the only exit out of the basement. Steve sat on a worn leather brown couch in the back of the room, Nat sat leaning against the wall. Just behind the poker table.

Steve texted Vis to bring you downstairs using the ruse that Scott wanted her brought down. Steve relaxed his new plan would be so much better than Just breaking all of Scott’s bones.

“Thank you and goodnight guys!” Scott yelled waltzing towards the door.

Bucky stuck his metal arm out and ushered Scott to back up. Scott’s face dropped and the color drained from his face. He swallowed hard looking behind him to Steve.

“Wouldn’t want leave your girlfriend behind.” Steve’s tone was calm with something sinister hiding beneath it.

Scott’s blood ran cold. He dropped the money and looked up at the camera. You were gone from your seat. The door now had the open sign shut off. It said closed and the lights were off. He tried to reach for the handle but Bucky drove his fist into Scott’s stomach. He doubled over in pain. Gasping as he hit the ground instantly curling into the fetal position.

“Um, why are we going this way?” You clutched your hoodie to your chest as you followed Vis through the now desolate kitchen. You hadn’t noticed that Vis shut the lights off after the two of you entered the kitchen.

“Scott is leaving out the back, he asked for you to meet him down here.” Vis said his face devoid of emotion and his voice still in monotone.

It neither comforted you nor did it make you feel worse. It was the dark basement stairs that made you feel frightened. The hallway lit up as the door opened you stepped in and saw Scott slightly slouched over on a couch with a tall muscular blonde with a thick dark beard. A beautiful redheaded woman stood behind a table full of cards and poker chips. She stood with her arms crossed.

“Hello?” You said softly looking at her and she smiled warmly.

“Hi I’m Nat.” She said not moving from her spot.

“I’m Y/N.” You returned the gesture.

“That’s a beautiful name Y/N, I’m Steve.” He was stretched out with his arm along the back of the couch.

Even though you felt like something was very wrong you couldn’t stop yourself from being polite. You were never one to judge people off their appearance.

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but blush a little. It made a carnal feeling twist inside of Steve, he subtly palmed the hem of his pants as it to adjust himself for comfort.

“Scott lets go.” You said turning to your boyfriend. That’s when you noticed. His eyes looked red and his face was pale white. He had blood on the corner of his mouth. You looked up searching for the door and Vis. Your body jolted a bit once you noticed the tall muscular man with long brown hair staring back at you from the shut door. His flesh hand held a bottle full of whiskey. His other hand was metal, it rested on his leg.

“Whats the rush doll?” He asked addressing you for the first time. He had been so silent that you wondered if he had been there the whole time.

“I’m so, so sorry Y/N. Please I didn’t kn-“ Scott cried out to you, you could tell he genuinely shaken up. His frame shook and you tried to make sense of the situation.

“What is this?” You asked looking to everyone in the room for an answer. A deafening silence seeped into the room like a gloomy fog on a cold morning.

“Scott here is 4 million dollars in debt.” Natasha spoke. Her smile slid away but it stayed in her eyes. To her and Bucky this was like a cat playing with a mouse after it was cornered. This mouse would think it had a chance but the cat sealed its fate when it caught the mouse.

So many thing swept over you. Trying to process the severity of the situation left your mind grasping at scenarios. Part of you wanted to hug Scott and tell him it was all going to be ok. While the other half of you wanted to scream and slap him for being so stupid! The emotions twisted within your gut like a tornado. You felt nauseous.

“F-f four million??” Was all that you could muster to come out.

“That’s right.” Steve said pulling your attention back to the couch.

Scott couldn’t make eye contact with you, he just looked down at the floor in shame. His heart was breaking from knowing he had drawn you into something dangerous, over his addiction for gambling.

“Give me one week, i-I’ll pay it back and you’ll never see us again!” You glared at Scott warning him to follow your lead. You weren’t even sure how you would get that kind of money.

“Y-yes you’ll never see me again.” He promised looking at Steve. Steve wasn’t looking at Scott. He was staring at you.

“That doesn’t work for us.” Steve said leaning back on the couch.

“Here’s the choice. One. We beat the shit out of Scott until he’s unconscious in the hospital or you stay and be his payment.” Natasha and Bucky smirked loving how Steve had turned the tables. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at Steve in disgust.

“I’m calling the cops!” You yelled, with tears in your eyes. Your trembling hand dipped into your pocket gripping your phone with clammy hands. It felt slippery and you struggled to get it out of your pocket. Bucky, Nat and Steve watched you intently.

They allowed you to pull the phone out and open the screen. 9-1-1. Your thumb hovered over the call button. Steve jumped up scaring you and the phone fell to the floor. Steve wrapped his arms around you holding you tightly to his chest. He was so much taller and wider when he stood. You felt small and fragile in his grip.

“Sh sh sh... its ok.” He whispered in your ear, his lips grazed the outer shell of your ear and it made you shiver. You tried to pull away and shrink into yourself all at the same time.

“Please!” You cried out struggling to get nowhere. Steve just held you close to him. His cheek pressed against yours. His beard scraped against your skin. He was warm, it made you feel claustrophobic. He inhaled smelling the lavender shampoo in your hair.

“STOP! This doesn’t involve her! Just hurt me!” Scott cried out standing up. Steve nodded to Bucky who came up behind Scott and socked him right in the ribs with his flesh hand.

Scott wheezed and choked as he doubled over clutching his sides. His face flushed a bright red. Bucky likely broke his ribs. He tried to crawl to you. One hand holding his sides while his legs curled towards his chest. He drug himself on one arm. Nat walked up casually and smiled at you before swinging her leg violently and her foot connected with his ribs again.

Scott gasped for air as his body flopped over onto his back, he looked up at the ceiling feeling disoriented. For a moment he was in shock from the pain. A small amount of blood pooled at the corner of his mouth.

You hadn’t realized it but you were crying and shaking uncontrollably. Steve was holding you up, pulling you closer to his chest. He was trying to sooth you. As if he and his friends hadn’t been the ones hurting you and Scott. In the moment of terror you had gripped onto his strong arm to steady yourself.

“I’ll stay!! Please stop hurting him!” Once the words flew out of your mouth the air in the room seemed to thin out. Nat backed away to the table leaning on it with her fingers curled over the edges. Bucky helped Scott up who howled in pain when he went from prone to standing. He clutched onto Bucky as if his life depended on it.

Bucky hobbled Scott’s crippled body to the door. He banged on it with his metal fist. A few seconds went by before Vis opened the door looking mortified.

“Take him to the hospital.” Bucky said nodding his head to Scott who was going in and out of consciousness.

“Wait.” Steve said causing everyone including you to look at him in confusion.

Steve shifted you slightly in his arms, you were now against his chest facing him. You had to look up at him. There was a shimmer in his eyes that made you feel sick.

“Kiss me. Like a handshake for our deal.” Steve lowered his head his lips were only a few inches away from yours. His other hand left your waist to raise your chin with one finger.

Your heart hammered in your chest, you felt dizzy. You didn’t want to kiss this awful man! Tears filled the brim of your eyes, a heavy invisible stone started to crush your chest.

Bucky lifted Scott’s head making him watch as Steve pressed his lips to yours. You didn’t fight him, you wanted to get it over with so that they’d take Scott to the hospital. Steve parted his lips when yours didn’t he slid his tongue along the seam of your lips, Prodding for entry. Reluctantly you let him. He sighed into your lips as his tongue met yours. Bile felt like it was rising up into your throat. You just wanted this to end. You kissed Steve back timidly but it seemed to appease him.

He pulled back smiling at you before peppering your soft swollen lips with a few gentle kisses. In shock you allowed Steve to set you on the couch. He turned and nodded to Vis who helped Bucky get Scott up the stairs. Nat and Steve talked in the corner for awhile.

“Alright see you tomorrow. It was nice to meet you Y/N.” Nat smiled before grabbing her jacket.

“Yeah.” Was all you could say as she walked out the door leaving alone with Steve.

Steve walked over to you, he held out his hand. You looked up at him through the tears in your eyes.

“You must be tired. Let’s go home.” He said as if you and he had been dating for years. You looked to the door weighing your options of escape. Steve followed your glance and smiled.

“You can try it if you need to.” He offered crossing his arms over his broad chest. The blue button up shirt was stretch tautly against his broad chest.

You put your head down shaking it. Tears quietly streamed from your eyes. Staining your cheeks. Scott was gone and now your were stuck with this man who terrified you. Steve offered his hand to you again and this time you accepted it. You placed your hand in his and let him pull you up.

“I can be good to you or I can be harsh. It’s really up to you.” Steve leaned over kissing you on the head as he lead you out of the restaurant. You just nodded your head letting him guide you with his hand on the small of your lower back.

Your fate had been sealed. Your boyfriend had gambled you off like a trophy piece. Now you had to go home with this man and do whatever he wanted you to. May be it would be smart to just pay off the debts and leave town forever. He would eventually get bored with you. At least you prayed he would sooner than later.

#Avengers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #Dark Fic #AU #natasha romanoff #Vision #Scott lang #steve rogers x you #scott lang x reader #captain america #winter soldier

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stefciastark · 4 years ago

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MIT ~ Webpril Day 5

A/N: This one was particularly hard for me to write, just considering generic semi-plotless one-shots were never my strong suit. So here is some really generic pointless IronDad and SpiderSon that's set in a bit of an AU where Tony survives the snap and comes out of it unscathed (because I just need some generic fluff). Sorry if there are any writing and/or continuity mistakes. Wrote this one quite late and haven't been feeling 100% today, but wanted to take a crack nonetheless :) Also, I absolutely see Peter as the type that will bring his own pillow from home because he can't sleep as well on random pillows. Either that or I'm projecting again lmao

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

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Peter was glad the door opened automatically as F.R.I.D.A.Y. buzzed him through, arms full of enough duffel bags and pillows to make him look like he was going camping for a week. This was the first time he’d set foot in the new Avengers facility since Thanos levelled it almost two years prior. It’d taken almost that whole period to reconstruct everything from the ground up, and Peter was impressed at how nearly identical it looked to the last time he was there, pre-Snap.

Of course, leave it to Tony to want to build it back as it was. After all, it was one of his babies; practical and virtually perfection, the building just screamed ‘Tony Stark’.

Subtlety was the name of the game in the facility. Small lights soundlessly lit Peter’s path, quietly directing him to the part of the structure that Tony had territorially claimed as his. Tony had promised Peter his own bedroom, and Peter was more than excited to dump his numerous bags on the floor and just take a breather.

In the few months he’d had off since graduating from high school, he hadn’t had a single moment to himself. Not that he could really complain. Most of his time was occupied by Ned and MJ, whether that was both of them together or spending time one-on-one. He’d already told Ned that he’d gotten into MIT and would be moving interstate in a little over a month and a half, but there was one conversation he was absolutely dreading, and that was with MJ. Since Junior year, their relationship had been pretty perfect, if Peter said so himself, and he was loathe to see it end over him moving to Massachusetts. Sure, they could make it work – it wasn’t that far, and Peter really wanted it to work. After some deliberating, Peter decided he’d ask Mr Stark; he’d know the answer.

As he rounded the final corner, his eyes were met with a large glass cube-shaped room, windows tinted like charcoal that almost reminded Peter of the Tesseract. Not that he’d ever seen it in person, but he’d seen enough video footage courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. to vaguely know what it looked like. Aside from not glowing, not being blue, and not having the menacing aura of the little Shining Cube of Death, the resemblance was uncanny.

Peter froze in the centre of the hall as F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice chimed overhead. “Welcome Peter, Boss is waiting for you in the lab when you are ready. You may drop your belongings in your room.”

Taking confident steps forward, Peter only then realised he had no idea where he was going. Pausing momentarily, he paused to ask the A.I, “Uh Fri, where -”

“It is the third door on your right.”

“Thanks!” Peter bounded down the hall, needing to gracelessly manoeuvre and shimmy the door handle down. There was no dignity in putting all his bags down only to pick them back up again while propping the door open with his foot, all the while looking as if he were developing a new yoga position. As the black door swung open, he marvelled for a moment at how despite it having been a high gloss lacquered finish, there wasn’t a single fingerprint from where he’d pushed it open along the lock stile.

Dropping his bags haphazardly at the foot of the queen bed (draped in the softest looking navy satin sheets Peter had ever seen and he had to stop himself right then and there from just passing out on top of them), he freshened up in the bathroom, changed from his T-shirt to a smart-casual button up, and made his way back to the Not Tesseract.

Once he found the entrance – after checking three out of its four sides – the door slid open, and he was greeted by a room that could aptly be described as every tech geek’s fantasy. Peter wasn’t quite sure if he was hallucinating, what with the numerous colourful and interactable holograms floating in various parts of the room, a few artificially intelligent robots doing their own thing because of course they were, and Tony Stark standing as enigmatic as ever bent over his latest project that looked an awful lot like a new Spider-suit upgrade. Peter only hoped that one day he would be able to exude the same confidence and charisma that Tony managed to accomplish just by breathing.

Tony looked up at the sound of the door sliding shut behind Peter and shot him a smile that bled with pride. “Congratulations on MIT, kid. You know,” Tony removed his reading glasses (since when did Tony wear reading glasses?), “I always knew you had it in you. Then again, I’m usually right about these things.” He paused in front of Peter, and Peter forced himself to smile in return.

Truth be told, Peter had been struggling with some Imposter syndrome after receiving his acceptance letter. It wasn’t that he felt he didn’t do well enough in school, he absolutely did. He didn’t want to say anything for being afraid of what the answer would be, but he had a nagging feeling that Tony may have pulled some strings on his behalf, what with being one of MIT’s greatest alumnus and all. Over the years it had come up in conversation, subtly woven in between how he was doing in school, how his relationship with MJ was faring, and who was definitively going to be named New York’s best pizzeria – it was a topic of conversation which had gotten quite unabashedly heated, and they still could not come to a conclusion.

All Peter ended up saying in response, quite pathetically in his opinion, was a half muttered, “Thanks, Mr Stark.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, and Peter made as much effort as possible to look anywhere but straight into the eyes of his mentor.

“That didn’t sound happy. What’s going on?”

Peter was naïve to think that Tony wouldn’t notice his subdued response to getting admitted to the university of his dreams. He was following in the footsteps of his mentor, a man who became like his father, but Peter was torn between feeling honoured at being Tony Stark’s legacy, and between wanting to be his own man and achieve out of merit and not just affiliation. Maybe that made him sound ungrateful, but to almost everyone at school, he’d been Peter Parker: that kid doing the Stark internship. Peter Parker: that kid who hung out with Captain America a few times. Peter Parker: Anthony Stark’s prodigious ‘adopted’ son.

“N-nothing, I was just uh,” Peter decided any other dumb excuse would be better than ‘hey, so I feel like my acceptance into MIT is one big joke and so am I.’ He eventually settled on, “I was actually wanting to study Biophysics, if that’s okay with you.”

Tony looked unconvinced, but to Peter’s relief, he let it go. “Do whatever you want, it’s your life, kid. Have you picked your subjects yet?” Tony walked back towards the largest and most central computer station, summoned a large projection of Google on the far back wall that was surrounded by a mini bar setup and black leather couches, and handed Peter a tablet after he had shook his head ‘no’ in response.

“C’mere,” Tony said, having made his way over to the kitchenette. He poured an ounce of liqueur the colour of butterscotch from a crystal decanter that looked as if it cost more than Peter’s whole apartment into one crystalline glass, and only put a smidgeon of the liquid caramel into the other. Peter took a crack and guessed that it was scotch. Gesturing for Peter to sit next to him on the couch, he handed Peter one of the glasses.

Peter took hold of it, setting the tablet on top of his thigh. At some point, the display must have changed over to MIT’s Biological Engineering ‘Courses Offered’ page, and Peter’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t realise how nervous he was about his future, how much weight he had put on himself to pick the right subjects and pursue the right major. It was the first time he’d really felt like a normal kid his age in a long, long time.

“I’m not promoting underage drinking, so you better not say anything to your Aunt May, okay?” Despite the stern look on Tony’s face, Peter knew Tony for long enough to detect the mischievous undertone to his words.

Despite his best attempts, Peter felt the prickle of tears behind his eyes. He had never known his father, and he hadn’t really entertained the thought that he would ever be able to share his first drink with someone who he considered to be his ‘dad’ in any sense of the word. Yet here he was.

“Congratulations.” Tony looked at Peter as their glasses clinked together. His dark eyes were warm with pride and a special type of second-hand excitement only a parental figure could experience, eager to be a part of the next chapter of life Peter was about to embark on.

“Thanks, but couldn’t’ve done it without you.” The liquid burned its way down Peter’s throat as he took his first and only sip from the glass, Tony having only put just enough to taste. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand not knowing how much Tony pulled strings for him at the MIT admissions.

Peter groaned internally when Tony didn’t correct him on his comment, hoping that he would have taken the bait and saved Peter the awkwardness of asking straight up whether his achievements were based on his own merit or his fortunate affiliations.

“Right, let’s have a look at your classes.”

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The time displayed on the projection was now showing 12:48am. Peter’s eyes had begun burning about an hour prior. While his usual bedtime was usually the early hours of the morning, the exhaustion of having to manage his anxiety and responses while in the observant company of Tony Stark left him feeling withered and needing to enter the void that was the realm of sleep.

“Thanks so much for tonight Mr Stark,” he was cut off by a yawn as he made a move to head back to his welcoming satin sheets, “but I’m gonna head to bed and get some of those sweet -” and once more, “- sweet dreams.”

Tony just gave Peter a closed-lipped smile and nodded his head towards the door, the bags under his eyes telling Peter it wouldn’t be long before he went to bed too. Peter wondered with some concern how long it had been since Tony had a good night’s sleep, and if this was day two on what might end up being a three-day long passion-project fuelled bender. If the slowly rotating blueprints of what looked like a newly designed Spider-suit gauntlet were anything to go by, there was a higher chance than Peter initially thought that Tony would not be sleeping tonight.

Disappointed in himself that he couldn’t muster the courage to ask Tony if his Imposter syndrome regarding MIT was founded, he made his way to exit the room, fully prepared instead to pursue the subject tomorrow when he was far less tired. As the door automatically slid open as Peter approached it, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his cheeks as he heard Tony call out from where he had just stood up from the settee. Maybe he didn’t have to get his answer tomorrow after all.

“In case you were wondering, it was all you, kid.”

#webpril day 5 #webpril 2021 #irondad fanfiction #marvel #mcu fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #angst #fanfiction #writing prompt #writing challenge #imposter syndrome #mit #insecurity

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chalantness · 4 years ago

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fic: Here, On the Edge of Hell (2/6)

Rating: M Word Count: ~10,400 (part two) Characters: Steve/Natasha Summary: mafia au. She knows her father hadn’t been lying when he said that Uncle Howard wanted her to keep an eye on Steve, but if this was simply about protection, he wouldn’t have put her on the line at all. Especially not with all of the heat Steve Rogers is getting from the other Families, which means that her uncle has another reason for Natasha to be involved.

He just won’t tell her what it is.

Read On: [ ao3 ]

A/N: I'm really, really hoping it won't take 2.5 weeks for me to get every single chapter done, so keep your fingers crossed for me because my inspiration and I will need as much luck as we can get!

“So how come I’m the only one that hasn’t met your new boyfriend?”

Peter peels a pepperoni slice off of his pizza and pops it into his mouth, grinning, and Natasha feels the corners of her lips twitching into a smirk as she shakes her head at him. Somehow, she’s not surprised. It’s hardly the first time that her cousin has dragged her to this particular little pizzeria in the city, and it’s been a bit longer than she realized since they’ve hung out as just the two of them, so getting his text about wanting to have dinner with her wasn’t something in itself that was particularly suspicious.

The cheeky grin that’s been on his face all night, however, definitely is. He may be a sweet kid – sweeter than any of them – but he’s still very much a Stark.

“Is that why you’ve been showing up even later than usual for Sunday dinner?” Peter goes on, his grin getting wider as his eyes glint, and Natasha can’t help but smirk.

“Since when were you such a gossip?” she asks, crumpling her napkin and tossing it at his face.

Peter wrinkles his nose at her for a second and then laughs, reaching across their small table to poke at her shoulder. “Come on, Nat,” he says, and honestly, she’s not quite sure if he’ll appreciate her calling him cute now that he’s sixteen, so she presses her lips together to keep from doing so. “How come I have to hear about this from Tony?”

She breathes out a laugh. Well, that certainly explains it. Peter is always curious about what’s going on in her life, and, as with everyone else in the Families, he usually knows who she spends her days with because she rarely wants to see anyone else. It’s far too complicated to get involved with someone who’s not part of this life somehow, whether it’s a simple friendship or something romantic—so, other than a few casual nights with a perfect stranger every so often, she tries not to mingle all that much. But it was never something she gave a second thought about until Steve Rogers came into the picture and she’d begun to see how much of an adjustment he has to make in his mind to things she’d simply grown up knowing. Still, he’s pretty damn good at adapting. It’s easy to see that he’s someone that’s meant to lead and he really doesn’t need her advice to do it.

He doesn’t really need to see her almost every other day, either, but she’s not exactly complaining.

“If a boyfriend existed, there’s no way the family would’ve kept quiet about it for long,” she points out, one eyebrow arched.

“Yeah, that’s true. Guess that’s why you and Steve Rogers were all anyone could talk about before dinner the other night.” His grin widens. “Which you would’ve known if you showed up on time, but I can see you were busy making friends, right?”

She can’t help it; she laughs. “Clearly you’ve been spending too much time with Tony.”

Peter shrugs, picking his pizza up and taking another bite. “To be fair, I think they’d be talking about Steve Rogers even if you weren’t suddenly spending all this time with him,” he says, and Natasha nods at this. That’s certainly true. It seems that Steve is all anyone in the underworld can talk about, and she knows it’s not simply because he’s a new face. They have dozens of men doing their dirty work, dozens of associates passing in and out of their world. Some of them end up being trouble, but most of them slip under the radar, carry out their orders and take their cuts, not drawing any attention—and in this lifestyle, that’s definitely preferable to drawing the wrong kind of attention.

It’s different with Steve, though, because he’s not some soldier that made his way in. He’s a variable none of them could have ever predicted, and, maybe for the first time ever, the Families have to play it safe. At least for now.

“That may be true, but I’m still trying to figure out why you want to talk about him, too, considering you’re barely involved in the Family business.”

Peter glances down with a chuckle. “What, that means I can’t be curious about my cousin’s life?”

“Curious, or worried?” Natasha asks, and he meets her gaze, his smile fading a little at the edges as he shrugs his shoulders again, almost sheepish now. “Peter.”

“Well, yeah,” he admits. “I mean, I’m always worried about everyone, even just a little bit. And maybe a little bit more now that—”

“I have a new friend?” Natasha guesses. He stays quiet, simply blinking back at her. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear about him.”

“I know,” Peter promises, and she can tell that he means it. “It’s not what they’re saying. It’s just that there’s all this talk, and then there’s you, and no one’s worried, really, but they’re—they don’t want you to get caught up in anything for no reason. And Tony’s… not exactly understanding why Uncle Howard wants you so involved.”

Natasha doesn’t quite understand it, either, but it’s not something she’s about to get into right now, and especially not with Peter. He may not be all that involved in this life like the rest of them are, but he’s not oblivious, and she’s not going to give him another reason to worry by telling him that she’s there to keep an eye out on Steve. Between people like Hela and Anton running their mouths, and all of the busted deliveries starting to become a pattern, it’s clear that something is stirring up between the Families—but after her talk with Steve that first night they’d met, Natasha is starting to think that maybe all of this tension would’ve built even if Joseph Rogers had never gone missing.

Because Steve had made a good point. Hela has always been outspoken, has always found a reason to argue about something, which meant no one really dwelled on the fact that her attitude toward Joseph Rogers in particular had gotten more aggressive recently. It’s how she’s always been, so why would anyone think twice about it?

It’s a rather clever cover, and one that Hela could make good use of if she ever needs to.

Maybe she does.

“Uncle Howard has a reason, and a good one,” Natasha tells Peter, reaching over to ruffle his hair, and he bats her hand away with a laugh just as her phone vibrates on the table. She picks it up, swiping to open the text—and, not for the first time, she’s glad she’s got one hell of a poker face as she feels Peter’s curious gaze on her.

“Is that Aunt May?” Peter asks, and Natasha glances up to find him checking his own phone, muttering something under his breath. “Have we really been here that long?”

Thank fuck. Natasha hardly believes in miracles, but this is as good of one as any. “You’re with me, kid. I hardly think Aunt May will be that upset,” Natasha points out, typing a reply to Steve—On my way—before slipping her phone into her purse. “But it’s probably time I get you home, anyway.”

... ...

Something happened with Wanda. Meet at your place.

He’s picking up dinner when he gets the text, and he doesn’t really know what the hell to focus on first—why Bucky is texting him about his sister, or what the hell happened to Wanda in the first place—but it’s almost instinctive, the way he texts Natasha right after telling Bucky that he’ll be right there. He thinks about sending Clint a text, too, but thinks better of it. Clint will want to know if something’s wrong, especially if it’s about Wanda, but Steve wants to know what the hell is even happening before interrupting the guy’s night with his wife and kids. Natasha is already on her way; if things aren’t serious enough to need Clint right away, too, then filling him in can wait until the morning.

And, fuck, it better not be anything serious. He thinks he’s done a pretty damn good job of being strategic, toeing the line to keep the peace.

It’d be a damn shame for all of that to go waste because some idiot decided to come after Wanda and Pietro.

“Buck?” Steve asks, all but slamming the door behind him as soon as he’s inside and tossing the takeout onto the table. “Wanda?”

“I’m alright, Steve.” His sister’s voice is as soft and soothing as always, and Steve feels a little bit of the tightness in his chest ease just at the sound of it as he rounds the corner into the living room. She’s offers a small smile from where she’s sitting on the couch, but beside her, Bucky stands with his arms crossed and his jaw tight. Rarely does the guy ever let something get to him, so the dark look in his eyes puts Steve back on edge, especially when he catches sight of the bandage wrapped around Wanda’s arm.

“Drive-by,” Bucky answers before Steve can even get the question out, and Steve feels his entire body go cold.

“What?”

“I was near it,” Wanda insists, starting to stand, but Steve gently nudges her back down as he sits in front of her on the coffee table. He takes her hands in his, eyes passing over her to check for anything out of place, but other than the bandaging, she’s untouched. Steve swallows, reaching up to touch the edge of it on her arm, and she gently cups her hand over his and gives it a little squeeze. “I got pushed up against a building when everyone scattered,” she explains, “but I didn’t get hit. It wasn’t meant for me.”

“You don’t know that.” Bucky’s voice is firm and clearly pissed, though Steve can tell that the harsh edge of it isn’t directed at his sister.

“Did you catch them?”

Bucky shakes his head once, exhaling a sharp breath. “We were tailing a suspect nearby and my partner went after them but they got away. And I jumped out of my car when I recognized your sister, so I didn’t get a good look at it myself.”

“I got a glimpse,” Wanda says softly, her voice almost as hesitant as her expression. “It looked like an Asgard driver.”

Steve jerks back a little, turning to Bucky. “That’s what the other detective said,” his best friend confirms with a nod. “It looked pretty damn close to one of the ones we have under their file, but no one caught the license plate. We’re going to look into security cameras to see if we can verify that way, but for now, we can’t say for sure.” His eyes flick back to Wanda’s, and Steve watches his sister lift her chin stubbornly, something passing between them before Bucky adds, “We should take her to the hospital, Steve.”

Steve’s gaze snaps back onto Wanda’s, but her eyes are still locked on Bucky’s, flaring with annoyance. “It’s not necessary,” she insists.

“I cleaned your scrape but you still hit your pretty hard when you got shoved aside,” Bucky fires back.

“You said it yourself, you didn’t think I had a concussion,” Wanda argues, though her voice is a little bit softer now as she glances at Steve. He rubs his lips together, bringing a hand up gently to her head, and both she and Bucky stay quiet as he feels around for any kind of bump or bruise. She seems fine, but it’s not as if Steve’s a doctor.

“You checked her yourself?” he asks Bucky.

“I did, but that doesn’t change the fact that she should get looked at, just to be safe.”

A few months ago, that would’ve been Steve’s first instinct, too. It still is, if he’s being honest; he’d been pretty damn tempted to tell Bucky to take Wanda to the hospital himself if he thought it was necessary, but the fact that they were waiting for him in his brownstone instead meant that Wanda must have insisted on it herself, and Bucky must have deemed her well enough to actually comply with it, even if he was obviously against the choice. As much as the bandage wrapped around Wanda’s arm makes Steve want to put a hole through the wall, he trusts Bucky’s assessment that she wasn’t concussed just as much as he trusts Wanda’s judgment to avoid going to the ER.

Because hospitals will mean questions, and questions will mean unnecessary attention. The less people involved, the better.

“It won’t be safe if you take her in, I can promise you that.”

Steve twists around in time to see Pietro practically bolt into the room, tossing his keys onto the coffee table Steve is still sitting on. As he fusses over their sister, Steve stands, meeting Natasha’s gaze as she follows Pietro’s frantic path into the living room. Steve is a hell of a lot calmer now than he was just a few minutes ago, bursting into the brownstone in almost the exact same manner as his brother, but there’s something about Natasha’s presence that eases even more of the tightness in his chest. The fact that she voiced the same conclusion that he’d come to in his head reassures him in the same way Wanda’s insistence of not needing a hospital had, despite his own doubts.

“How is a hospital not safe?” Bucky asks, the edge back in his voice as he glances from Natasha to Steve and back down to Wanda.

Pietro is sitting beside her on the couch now, between her and Bucky as he casts a narrowed gaze up at him. “The less attention on us, the better.”

There’s an edge to Pietro’s voice, too, and it makes Steve let out a sharp exhale as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Natasha comes up beside him, meeting his gaze as she sets her purse down on the coffee table. She arches an eyebrow, her question as clear as day in her eyes, and he shakes his head; he’s not going to pretend that Bucky and Pietro aren’t something to be worried about, too, but they’re rather low on the list, all things considered. They’re far from done with tonight’s incident, but he’s just really fucking glad that Wanda is okay, and it’ll be a hell of a lot easier to think now that he’s seen it for himself that she’s fine.

Natasha gives him a small, knowing sort of smile, nodding as if she’d heard his thoughts. He wouldn’t be surprised if she did, somehow.

“Easy, Pietro,” Natasha says, her voice light, almost teasing, as she glances at the twins for a moment before shifting her gaze to Bucky. “He did just help your sister out.”

Pietro’s jaw ticks as he turns away, but then he catches Wanda watching him, a soft smile touching her lips, and he exhales a breath, some of the tension easing from his shoulders as he does so. He smooths a hand over her hair, drawing her close to brush a kiss to her forehead.

Steve knows his brother well enough to not expect much else than this, at least for the moment. But, as he catches Bucky staring down at the twins, some of his own apprehension ebbing as Wanda leans into Pietro’s shoulder, Steve thinks that this might just be good enough for his best friend, too.

Fuck. Steve wipes a hand down his face. He’s not quite sure if he’s exhausted or if he’s more awake than before, but he sure as hell doesn’t have much of an appetite anymore. He glances back at where he’d practically thrown down his takeout order in his rush inside and exhales a breath, walking over to check inside. At least he’d gone with noodles and vegetables instead of soup, or else it’d be all over the bag by now. He picks it up and heads back over to the others, and Pietro pops up from the couch to take the bag from him before Steve has to ask. “Try to eat something, alright?” he tells Wanda, and she nods, letting him pull her up. “I want you two to stay the night.”

Wanda gives him a soft smile, not even a little bit surprised by the request. “Okay,” she replies, leaning in as he kisses her forehead, too. “I’ll make you a cup of tea?” He nods, and then she turns to Natasha, her smile brightening a little. “Should I make you a cup, too?”

“I’d love one.” Natasha reaches over, tucking some of Wanda’s hair behind her ear, and the gesture makes Steve smile, too.

Wanda turns toward Bucky. “Would you like one as well?”

Steve watches his best friend as his expression shifts into something gentle, gentler than Steve has seen him in a while. “Sounds good,” he tells her, cracking a soft grin. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” she replies quietly, and the tone of her voice makes something heavy settle in Steve’s stomach once more as he watches her and Pietro head into the kitchen.

She could’ve been hurt tonight, seriously fucking hurt, and there’s a pretty decent chance that it would’ve have even been an accident.

“So, I’m assuming we’ve entertained the thought that tonight wasn’t a coincidence?” Natasha asks, seeming to pull the words from Steve’s mind once again as he turns to meet her gaze. He’s a little too pissed by the idea to actually answer, so he simply nods, clenching his jaw. She hums softly. “What did happen, exactly?”

Right. He hadn’t even known what to tell her when he asked her to come, but she must have gotten some of it from Pietro when they bumped into each other on their way in. And no, Steve doesn’t have to ask to know that Wanda had told their brother herself. Chances are, Pietro felt off the moment it all went down, and Wanda probably called him while Bucky was driving them over here. The two of them have always been attuned to each other like that, and Steve doesn’t even think it’s a twin thing; it’s just their thing.

“There was a drive-by and Wanda was close when shots were fired,” Steve tells her, gaze shifting to Bucky, and Natasha’s eyes follow, too. “Really fucking close, apparently.”

Bucky nods, glancing between the two of them. His eyes linger longer on Natasha, though, and Steve remembers belatedly that this is technically their first meeting, even though every cop in the city already knows who she is already. In fact, they all probably know about him now, too.

“Wanda says she wasn’t the target, but I’ve got a pretty damn good gut feeling that’s not the case,” he tells Natasha. “She also thinks the car was from the Asgards.”

Natasha turns to Steve, not an ounce of surprise in her expression. Steve doesn’t doubt that they’re thinking of the same person, but she still says, “Hela,” as she gives Bucky another glance, and he nods. Bucky knows who Hela is for the same reasons he knew who Natasha was before she’d walked into the room, and he and Sam were the reasons Steve already had an idea of who the Families were before he’d been dragged in with them himself. “Did you find anything out?” Natasha asks quietly, turning back to Steve.

He casts a glance toward the kitchen. He doubts they can hear the three of them from so far away, but Steve keeps his voice low just in case.

“Not a damn thing,” he mutters. “Other than the reports and files he keeps on hand for all of the businesses, Dad doesn’t even have something I can look through.”

Which had been pretty fucking suspicious, if Steve is being honest. He never noticed how very little things had been in his dad’s place and in all of his offices until Steve had a reason to go looking. There are photos everywhere, dictionaries and historical books and trinkets that Steve doubts his father had even picked out for himself; but not a single document of importance, nothing outside of business reports and financial statements for all of the legitimate businesses under their name. His laptops were no different, but Steve was less surprised by this. Clint is big on not leaving a digital trail because computer forensics can recover just about anything, so his dad likely had the same attitude.

He realizes his father was a cautious guy and for a lot of good reasons, but the fact that he has nothing personal to be found other than a few framed photographs is a red flag if Steve’s ever saw one.

Even Natasha looks a little alarmed by this, and he has yet to see her genuinely confused until this moment. “Nothing?”

Steve shakes his head, and Bucky chimes in with, “Sam’s still going through the last hard drive, but it’s been nothing but programs for payroll and schedules and shit.”

Natasha rubs her lips together, gaze flitting to the kitchen before catching Steve’s stare again. “Maybe the twins might know where to look?”

Steve nods, considering this. He practically tore up the floorboards in every building his dad owned, but Wanda and Pietro could still know of a place to look that he doesn’t. He also hasn’t had a chance to check either of their apartments, and even though he doubts it, there could be something there they don’t even know of.

The high whistle of the tea kettle on the stove starts to fill the air, and with it, Steve lets out an exhale, feeling far more tired than he realized. Natasha seems to share the sentiment, too, because she cracks a wry smile. “To be continued,” she says, heading for the kitchen, and Steve shares a weary glance with Bucky before they both follow.

... ...

The only other ones in the family that have a habit of running later than Natasha are Tony and Uncle Howard, so she isn’t surprised that she gets a text from her uncle to just let herself into his office to wait for him. These meetings are never all that consistent, but they happen often enough that Natasha can usually expect a text every other week. Her uncle has a rule of not talking about work at their Sunday dinners, so the two of them meet up over lunch instead so she can catch him up on anything he wants to know about. But mostly it’s just an excuse for her Uncle Howard to pull her away to catch up (with my favorite niece, he’ll say, and she’ll roll her eyes because she’s his only niece).

They’re having lunch at one of their bars this time, so she has the bartender make her a martini before she lets herself into the office.

Most of her Uncle Howard’s offices look exactly like this one, all dark wood and leather and low lighting, and it almost always makes her smirk because it really does look like something straight out of The Godfather. Instead of oil painting, though, the wall behind his desk is covered with photographs of their family in mismatched frames, artfully arranged and almost taking up almost every space from the floor to the ceiling. As much of a hard ass that her uncle can be, he’s always been pretty damn sentimental, too.

Natasha perches herself on the desk, sipping on her martini as she takes in a shot of their family at a park. Peter is barely even one in the photo, and it must’ve been sometime before his parents’ accidents, because her Uncle Richard and Aunt Mary are there, beaming at the camera with Baby Peter cuddled between them.

God, Peter looks so much like them. He’s one of those kids that’s such a good mix of their parents that he looks like the spitting image of whichever parent he happens to be with at the time. Aunt Maria said that Tony had been the same way until he’d grown up to look exactly like Uncle Howard. The Stark brothers just have strong genes in general because Natasha has always looked a lot more like her father and even her uncle than her own mother, and Morgan already looks more like Tony than she looks like Pepper.

She turns to the photo beside it of her Uncle Howard and Joseph Rogers, feeling something tug at her chest as she stares back at Joseph’s laughing face.

Natasha had been genuinely surprised when Steve said that he couldn’t find anything personal that belonged to his father, other than the photos he keeps in his home and in his offices. As much of a hard ass Joseph Rogers tended to be when it came to the Family business, he’d always struck her as the sentimental type, just like her Uncle Howard.

She’d known it wouldn’t be as simple as stumbling upon a journal entry or an email of something incriminating about Hela, but she didn’t think Steve would turn up entirely empty, either. She knows that he wouldn’t have half-heartedly rummaged through a few drawers, either; that he probably stopped short of pulling up the bricks and the floors to find something, anything, to work with. Because Natasha knows, as meticulous and wary as her uncle is, if she’d torn apart his offices and dismantled all of his bookshelves and his desks, she’d find something. Her uncle doesn’t like to throw anything away, but he knows not leave just anything lying around, either, and she’s willing to bet that Joseph Rogers had been the same way—which could mean that maybe Joseph did have something hidden once upon a time, but maybe he’d had the forethought to rid of it.

Maybe he thought it would be necessary.

... ...

“How’s she doing now?” Sam asks, passing over one of the coffees he’s just paid for from the cart parked near the entrance of the park.

Steve shrugs as they fall into step on the path. There’re already a few dozen early morning joggers, but other than that, the place is pretty much empty. “She’s fine,” Steve answers, because that’s definitely the truth. Wanda doesn’t seem all that shaken up from the drive-by the other night, and though part of him hadn’t expected her to be too freaked out—she’s likely seen a hell of a lot more shit than he has—he’s also a little worried that she’s not. Even Pietro still hasn’t seemed to shake it off, though that may be for the same reason that Steve hasn’t shaken it off, either. He hates that Wanda had been hurt at all, even if it’s literally just a scrape, because it could’ve been a lot worse.

And it could’ve been intentional, too. Just the thought alone has his chest tightening, just a little.

“Hasn’t been left alone ever since, huh?” Sam asks, his lips quirking at the corners, and Steve breathes out a laugh.

“Not a damn chance.” If she’s annoyed that she’s practically under his or Pietro or Clint’s thumb, she’s graciously pretending not to be.

“Buck thinks it wasn’t a coincidence,” Sam says, and Steve just nods, because yeah, he remembers Bucky saying as much that night, too. They haven’t had a chance to talk about it since then, though, because they haven’t seen each other in person, and it’s definitely not something to risk alluding to in a text. “Any truth to that?”

“Probably more than I can get my hands on.” Steve takes a gulp of the coffee, relishing in its almost scalding temperature. “What about you? You think it could be true?”

Sam tilts his head, blows out slow a breath as he glances around, though no one is even close to being within earshot. “Let’s just say, if it’d been me at the scene instead of Bucky, I’d probably still have the same hunch.” Steve hums, not at all surprised. That’d been his initial thoughts, too, even before Wanda said that she thought she recognized the car. “I doubt it was random, but it’ll take a while to figure out everyone that was at the scene, let alone which ones could have a reason for someone to shoot them up.”

“Other than my sister?”

Sam lets out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, pretty much.” He glances at Steve. “Not to be an ass, but if it was meant for her, would we have a motive to work on?”

It’s not a question. Not really, anyway, because Steve knows by the tone in his voice that his best friend already knows his answer.

Steve just nods, taking another gulp of coffee, and Sam nods, too, seeming to know to leave it at that. If the drive-by was meant for Wanda, there’s a slim chance that it could be personal, because of something she’d done or maybe failed to do. Steve really fucking doubts that possibility, though.

The theory that it was meant to put pressure on Steve is a better one to work with, but even then, there’s still one big hole to it: Wanda is part of the Family and has been since birth. Even if someone was pissed off and impulsive enough to try and squeeze Steve out, why would they use Wanda to do it when that would mean everyone else in the Family would want their body at the bottom of the Hudson for it? It’s a shitty plan at best, but if someone was pretty damn confident that they wouldn’t get caught, it doesn’t rule out the chance of it being true, either. Then of course, there’s still a decent possibility that this isn’t about hurting Wanda or even trying to get to Steve, either.

Just because Joseph Rogers is missing doesn’t mean the drive-by couldn’t have anything to do with him. Their father is pretty well-respected—or, at the very least, well-feared—by almost everyone in the underworld, but for those that hate him?

His disappearance is a great opportunity for them to make their move, and chances are they’d settle with taking their grudge out on his kids instead.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Sam mutters the words under his breath, but Steve still catches them, pulling him from his thoughts as he looks at his friend and then follows his gaze down the path onto—

Natasha.

She’s still pretty far down the path from them, but he recognizes her in an instant, even though he’s never seen her in something so casual before. She’s dressed to run in leggings and a windbreaker, her hair twisted into a braid and off to one side, and technically, he shouldn’t be surprised; he remembers her mentioning that she went for a jog most mornings, but considering they’re a decent ways away from her part of the city, he wouldn’t have anticipated bumping into her here. When he spots Maria Hill next to her, though, it makes more sense. Most of his meetings with Nick Fury are over on this side of Manhattan, so it’s not a stretch to think that Maria would live over here, too.

Despite his thoughts just a moment ago, a smirk tugs at his lips. Well, that certainly explains Sam’s reaction.

He’s been playing cat and mouse with Maria Hill for as long as Steve can remember him being a cop. Even if they didn’t know a thing about any of the Families, he would’ve heard of Maria considering how often her work as a private investigator causes her to cross paths with Sam’s investigations.

(And, yeah, Steve gets that it’s pretty damn ironic that a mafia princess works as private investigator; that’s always been part of the reason she and Sam butt heads.)

Natasha glances up just as she and Maria turn onto the same stretch of path, heading toward him and Sam, and if Steve was closer, he knows he’d see her eyelashes flutter as she takes him in; her only tell when she’s surprised, and he’s sure as hell a little proud of himself for being able to pick that up considering she’s got a damn good poker face.

The corner of her lip quirks in a smile just as Maria looks up, too, her eyes narrowing onto Sam, and both Steve and Natasha chuckle at their friends in the same second. He doesn’t doubt that Natasha’s gotten a play-by-play on their run-ins from Maria the same way he and Bucky have gotten them from Sam.

“Hey,” Natasha greets, her voice slightly breathless as she and Maria come to a stop in front of them, and Steve feels his smile widen at the glint of amusement in her eyes.

“Hey.” His gaze shifts onto Maria, not all that surprised to find her expression nonchalant. They’ve only met once before this, but he’s met with Nick several times by now and it’s easy to see where she’d get her straight expressions from. “Good run?”

“Nothing special,” she replies, turning to Sam and holding his stare even as she adds, “Who’s this guy?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Not a morning person, I take it, Hill?”

“That’s a rather personal question to ask, don’t you think, stranger?” she retorts dryly, not waiting for a response as she twists open her water bottle to take a gulp.

Natasha shakes her head, turning back to Steve as her amusement shifts into a thoughtful expression. “I’m glad we bumped into you,” she tells her, her voice softer now, and when she asks, “any news?” he already knows exactly what she’s referring to, so he shakes his head. “I’m not surprised,” she admits, frustration flitting across her expression as if on his behalf. She seems genuinely annoyed by this and it almost makes him smile. “Is there really no other place worth looking? Maybe one he hasn’t been to in years?”

This makes Steve pause, turning to Sam, and the guy’s face shifts in understanding. “Your mom’s place?” Sam guesses, and Steve nods, turning back to Natasha.

“I was barely seven or eight when we moved out of there,” he explains to her and Maria. “The whole apartment complex has been abandoned for a few years now, but I don’t know if it’s been torn down or bought out by now. Plus, I know for a fact I’ve never seen him there since we didn’t even meet until I was in high school.”

“It still could be worth a look,” Natasha points out, and Maria nods in agreement when Natasha looks over at her. Even Sam seems to tilt his head, considering this.

“I’ll head over there tomorrow, then.”

Natasha hums. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll meet you at your restaurant at noon and then we’ll drive over.”

The tone of her voice makes it sound like an offer, though Steve can tell by the quirk of her lips that it’s not exactly up for negotiation. Out of the corner of his eyes, he catches Maria and Sam smirking, but he ignores them as Natasha blinks up at him, her green eyes glinting again as she holds his gaze from under her long eyelashes.

And really, what can he do other than nod? They both know he was just going to ask her to come along, anyway.

... ...

“So, a little bird told me that you have a date tomorrow.”

Natasha smirks as she steps out of the hallway to find Tony in her kitchen, his back to her as he leans in to rummage in her fridge. He doesn’t have a copy of her key, but considering he was the one to program the Stark Industries security system that her building uses, she’s never surprised when he lets himself in, nor is she surprised when he helps himself to her food. She doesn’t have much of it, anyway. She usually dines out or orders in, so chances are that anything he finds was put there by him to begin with.

“Well,” he adds, a container of blueberries in hand as he shuts the fridge and spins around to face her. “Those exact words weren’t used, but I read between the lines.”

“I think that’s considered rewriting the lines,” she retorts, wrinkling her nose as he pops the lid open and tosses a blueberry into his mouth. “You’re supposed to rinse first.”

He gives her a look. “Hardly the most dangerous thing I’ve done, dear cousin.” Natasha shrugs a shoulder. Fair enough. “I see you didn’t deny my statement.”

“If you’re asking if I’m seeing Steve tomorrow, then your answer is yes,” she replies, sitting down on the stool opposite of where he’s leaning against the kitchen island. “And if you’re going to play twenty questions with me for Uncle Howard’s benefit, or more so for your own amusement, you’re buying dinner this time.”

He rolls his eyes as she opens a drawer by her hip and grabs the stack of takeout menus inside, tossing them onto the counter. “I’m always the one buying dinner,” he argues.

“That’s because you’re always the one being nosy.”

He cracks a grin, popping another blueberry into his mouth. “How else am I supposed to figure out what’s going on in your life?” He glances back down at the menus for a moment before sliding one for one of their favorite sushi places back over to her. “I know my dad asked you to keep an eye on him, be his friend all that,” he goes on, and Natasha glances up to meet his gaze as she gathers the menus into a stack once more. “But just because he wants to dig up skeletons doesn’t mean you have to join him.”

She pauses, tilting her head at her cousin. “You’re worried.” It’s a question and an observation at the same time, and she knows she’s right when Tony glances away. Her thoughts flit back to her conversation with Peter just a few nights ago, about Tony not seeing eye to eye with his father on Natasha’s role in all of this.

It’s not as if she hadn’t taken Peter’s words to heart, but maybe it still wasn’t enough. Maybe she should’ve read between the lines, too.

“Joseph Rogers went missing,” Tony says slowly, his voice softer now, and he sets the blueberries down as he leans in a little closer. “So, yeah, I’m going to worry, especially if you start pulling on all of these threads with Steve. Sometimes—” He stops himself suddenly, something flickering in his eyes too quickly for her to catch before he’s glancing away again. “Sometimes it’s okay to let things play out on their own. I mean, the truth comes out sooner or later, doesn’t it?” He meets her eyes. “Is it really worth the risk?”

Natasha simply blinks back at him. For the first time in what feels like forever, she doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what to think.

Tony stands a moment later, though, and waves a hand vaguely at the takeout menu. “Let’s skip on the spicy tuna tonight, alright? I don’t think my stomach can handle the drama,” he tells her, and then turns and walks toward the hallway bathroom without giving her a chance to respond.

Which means that, at least for tonight, this conversation is over.

... ...

He can’t remember the last time he was in his old neighborhood, but it had to have been almost a decade ago, if not more. He doesn’t remember much from when he and his mom lived here, but he doesn’t think it’s a stretch to assume the place didn’t look that much better back then than it does now. It’s not falling apart, exactly, but it definitely feels as if no one’s been in the building for a few years. Still, it’s not in a completely shitty area, and the entire plot of land that building takes up is a decent size, especially for New York. Steve doesn’t know a damn thing when it comes to buying and owning properties, but it’s hard to believe that people have let this place just sit here all these years.

Today, though, he hopes this works in his favor. If there is anything in their old apartment, he might actually have a chance at finding it.

“Does it bring back memories?”

Steve turns to Natasha beside him in his passenger seat, a small smile playing at her lips, her eyes bright with curiosity, and he breathes out a chuckle. “Not really,” he admits. He wonders if he should feel some kind of guilt, knowing his mother must’ve worked her ass off when they lived here and yet, he doesn’t really remember any of it.

What he remembers is the nicer, newer apartment right next to the Manhattan Bridge that they’d moved into when they’d left this place. He remembers the private school he’d attended and the five-star restaurant his mother managed, and he remembers having his pick at colleges because tuition wasn’t something to worry about. He may not have been at the very top of the social class, but he sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to relate to what his life would’ve been like if they stayed here, either. Back then, he hadn’t known his father owned the building they moved into and owned the entire chain of restaurants his mother worked for. He hadn’t known his mother had refused to take money tied to the Families until his father convinced her to do it—not for herself, but for Steve. His mother wanted to give him the world, and she could do that with his father’s help.

“I doubt we would’ve even ended up in a place like this if Mom had let my father help from the start,” he adds after a moment, his voice quiet and a little rough.

Natasha nods, her gaze shifting back onto the old apartment complex. “When we found out about you, I wondered how anyone could’ve ever convinced Joseph to cut ties with his son, especially one that was also his firstborn. He adored Wanda and Pietro, so why keep you hidden?”

He breathes out a chuckle. “I wondered that, too. There’s a decent age gap between me and the twins, which meant that, for almost a decade, I would’ve been his only heir. So why let my mother take me away in the first place? And why insist on getting involved after Wanda and Pietro were born, when he had a reason to cut ties completely?” He shakes his head, and he knows Natasha catches the gesture, even though her stare is still trained forward. “All I could come up with is that my mother asked, so he listened.”

Steve turns toward Natasha in the same moment she looks at him. “Who would’ve thought that Joseph Rogers was such an old romantic?”

“He had to have been to win my mother over in the first place,” Steve says, and Natasha hums softly, her eyes twinkling. “Do you really think we’ll find something here?”

She rubs her lips together and he tries not to get distracted by the motion. “Yeah, I do,” she admits. For a moment, he’s almost certain that she’s going to say more. He can see it in her eyes that she’s thinking more, but then she blinks and whatever the thought is, it’s gone. “Are you ready?”

He chuckles again. “Not a chance in hell, but let’s go,” he says, relishing in the soft laugh that follows as they open their doors.

He locks the car once they’re both out, and then Natasha falls into step behind him as he makes his way up one of the outer staircases and onto the third floor, following the rusted numbers nailed to the doors until he finds the one Clint had dug up under Sarah Rogers. It’s not locked when he goes to turn the knob, but considering how long this place has just been sitting here, Steve isn’t all that surprised. It may be quiet right now, but he doesn’t doubt that people come in and out of the building for shelter at night.

And honestly, he thought maybe being inside would jog something in his head. He was young when they left, but not so young to not remember anything at all, even vaguely.

But as he steps into the small living room and even smaller kitchen, all he sees is an old, empty apartment. He can’t imagine his mother even having to see this place, let alone live in it for eight years. It’s not as if she’d been extravagant with the money his father gave them when they moved out of here, either, but still.

He doesn’t really know what he feels about it, about being here—but Natasha seems to sense what little unease it’s stirring up, because she places a hand on his arm, just above his elbow, and he turns to find her peering up at him. But there isn’t pity in her eyes; just that same, simple curiosity.

He gives her a small smile, nodding once, and she pulls her hand away as she walks further into the kitchen and starts pulling open the cabinets.

Steve follows her lead, stepping into the tiny bathroom and yanking the shower curtain back, pulling open the cabinets under the sink and even lifting the lid to the tank of the toilet. But he’s not surprised to come up empty.

Natasha doesn’t seem to have had any luck in the kitchen, either, because she’s pushing open the door to the bedroom when he walks out of the bathroom. For a fleeting second, he almost has the urge to tug her back; just because the place seems empty doesn’t mean someone might not be squatting in here, even this high up.

But he doesn’t doubt that she can handle damn near anything thrown at her, and also, he’s right behind her if anything happens.

The bedroom is just about as small and empty as the rest of the apartment, and there’s nothing in the closet when Natasha opens it, but she steps inside, anyway, running her hand against the wall as she does a small spin around the tiny space. The top half of the drywall is plain and exposed, the paint chipped and faded, but the bottom half is lined with wood panels. It seems like it was just meant for some attempt at adding a bit of contrast to the simple apartment—he’d seen the same wood paneling on an accent wall in the bathroom—but, as she runs her hands over it, applying a gentle pressure every few inches, she hits a spot that makes her pause. She glances over her shoulder at him.

Then she pushes harder and the panel shifts, then slides out of place, and Natasha gently pulls it back.

Vaguely, he’s aware of chiming filling the air—a call, he realizes a second later, when Natasha pulls her phone out of her pocket—but he’s too focused on the locked metal box that’d been hidden behind the panel to even flinch at the sudden noise.

Son of a bitch. There was something here this whole time.

“Tony?” Natasha says into her phone as Steve gently picks up the box. He crouches down, peering into the tiny cove to see if something else could’ve been hidden behind the box in there, but it’s empty. He straightens back up, giving the box a gentle shake, and he hears something shift inside. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right there.”

Steve turns to Natasha as she hangs up, alarm tugging at his chest when he sees her expression.

“Someone put a car through the front of the club,” she says, and Steve jerks back in surprise. “We’ve got to go.”

... ...

She’s not surprised that she’s the last of the family to make it to Uncle Howard’s place in Manhattan since she and Steve were coming from pretty deep into Brooklyn, and, despite the obvious tension in the room, the fact that everyone eyes her and Steve almost makes her want to laugh. Almost. She thinks there are more pressing things to be concerned with than the fact that she’d been with Steve, something that everyone had to have already known about considering Tony had brought it up, but whatever. She contemplated asking Steve simply to drop her off, and if he’d had somewhere to be, she wouldn’t have minded. But, for some reason, she feels better knowing he’s with her.

Even though he likely knows even less of what’s happening than she does, there’s something about his presence that’s comforting.

The closest to the foyer are her parents, and something odd tugs at Natasha’s chest when her mother comes over to touch her hair gently, eyes sweeping over Natasha as if assessing that she’s okay. Even if they didn’t know she’d been with Steve, they would’ve at least known by her location on her phone that she hadn’t been near the club when the crash happened. Incidents like this have definitely happened before, even if they hadn’t been quite as aggressive, yet Natasha has never seen her mother look so worried.

“Thank you for bringing my daughter here.” Natasha’s father holds a hand out to Steve, which Steve shakes firmly as he nods. “Pardon our interruption.”

Steve glances at Natasha as he shakes his head, then meets her father’s eyes again. “Family is always worth an interruption,” he replies, and Natasha swears she sees her father’s expression cracks with a smirk. Then Steve turns to Natasha, touching her back gently. “I should get going.”

“No, stay,” Natasha’s mother tells him, and Natasha raises her eyebrows a little, surprised. Her mother smiles. “You’re Family now.”

“I agree,” Uncle Howard chimes in, offering Steve a smile as he walks up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Considering your establishments have been hit, too, we should try comparing notes.”

Natasha watches as some look of understanding passes between them, and then Uncle Howard drops his hand as Steve nods.

“Or maybe we should just ask his cop friends,” a voice chimes, and, for a fleeting moment, Natasha’s entire body tenses the way it always does whenever Anton speaks. She smooths her expression out before she turns to where Anton is leaning back in one of the leather armchairs in the living room, Ivan hovering over his shoulder and not at all attempting to be subtle about his clear contempt of Steve being invited. His father, however, almost seems pleased. “They’d probably know all about this, wouldn’t they?”

Natasha feels Steve’s fingers flex where they’re still placed against her back, but, out of the corner of her eye, his expression doesn’t even shift.

Before Steve can respond, though, her Uncle Howard does it for him. “I’m sure they’d love to hear from you, too, considering you and Ivan were the ones at the scene.”

Anton flinches ever so slightly as Ivan sits up straighter, his jaw clenching. Natasha has to press her lips together to fight off a smirk.

She turns to look at Steve as they follow her parents and Uncle Howard into the living room, and she feels his thumb against her back, moving in a small, almost soothing sort of stroke, and her lips tug into a smile as she turns away.

... ...

He doesn’t realize how late it’s gotten until the door to his office opens and Pietro sticks his head through, smirking when he sees Steve. “Why am I not surprised?” his brother asks, stepping all the way inside and kicking the door shut behind him, and Steve breathes out a chuckle as Pietro sets two pizza boxes down on top of all the paper Steve has scattered across the desk. Pietro flashes his teeth in a grin. “Our sister is having dinner with Clint and Laura and the kids, so it looks like it’s my turn to make sure you’re fed.”

Steve offers a wry smile. “Tell me that you at least used one of my accounts to pay for these.”

“Always,” Pietro replies, and Steve laughs, setting his laptop aside as Pietro drags a chair closer to the desk. Rather than sitting down, though, he walks over to the mini bar in the corner, grabbing two bottles of wine and two glasses before walking back over. “A glass of prosecco for your pesto pie,” he says, handing over one of the bottles and one of the glasses, “and a nice merlot for my pepperoni.” Steve laughs, pours his drink as Pietro does, too, and then flips one of the boxes open. “We don’t leave until you finish.”

Steve arches an eyebrow. “Finish the pizza or finish the wine?”

“Whichever comes first, which most likely be the wine, considering the look on your face before I got here,” Pietro says, waving a hand vaguely at his own face as if in emphasis before taking a gulp of his own wine. “This doesn’t have anything to do with your little field trip with Nat today, does it?”

Steve exhales a breath as he leans back in his chair. “Honestly, I haven’t had a chance to think about it after what happened at their club,” he admits, which seems like it should be ridiculous, all things considered, but his thoughts had been elsewhere by the time he left Howard’s. He offered to drop Natasha back at her place, but her parents wanted to do take her themselves and Steve wasn’t about to argue. Someone had driven a car into the establishment that their daughter manages, and whoever had done it had done so in broad daylight, too. This fact clearly bothered them, and as reluctant as he’d been to leave Nat, he could only imagine what Edward and Melina must’ve felt.

Because it’s clear that this wasn’t just some drunken accident. It felt intentional, but whether it was intended for all of the Starks or for Natasha, specifically, was unclear.

“They have any ideas who it could’ve been?” Pietro asks. Steve shakes his head, and his brother doesn’t look surprised.

There are a lot of people in this city that could have it out for the Starks, just like there are a hell of a lot of people that could have it out for their family, too. That’s why it’s been so damn hard to figure out if all the busted operations are as random as they seem.

Steve has a hard time believing that they are, but honestly, he doesn’t want to get into that again. He does have something else he thinks they should talk about, though.

“We found something, by the way,” Steve says, and Pietro pauses as he’s pulling off a slice of pizza, eyebrows raised. “There was a box hidden in the drywall.”

“Well, shit,” Pietro says, more to himself than to Steve, and his eyebrows furrow. “I’m guessing you haven’t opened it yet?”

Steve’s mouth hitches in another wry smirk. “Not yet. Natasha got the call from Tony right after, so I’ve been a little distracted ever since.”

“Makes sense,” Pietro says with a nod, picking up his slice of pizza and taking a bite. Despite everything, Steve smiles; for as nosy as Pietro can sometimes be, his brother doesn’t ever ask more than he thinks Steve is willing to tell, or maybe he just trusts that Steve will fill him in on his own, whenever he’s ready. And even when Pietro does prod for answers, it never feels like he’s backing you into a corner. It’s comforting, honestly, and maybe that’s why he’s pretty damn good at getting someone to open up.

Steve takes a gulp of his wine, considering his words before asking, “Do you think Dad had something worth hiding in a condemned building?”

Pietro grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he did,” he admits. “I can’t think of anything off the top of my head, but…”

He trails off with a shrug, and Steve exhales a laugh, because, yeah.

Joseph Rogers has been running the streets of New York for decades. He likely has more than just one or two secrets worth locking in a box.

“You want me and Wanda there when you open it?”

Steve takes another gulp of wine, finally pulling out a slice of his own pizza. “It’s your choice. I’d never keep you away if you want to be involved, but since you asked, I think you should let me take care of it for now,” he admits. “It could be nothing, but if it is something, I’d rather my ass be the only one on the line if I could help it.”

This time, Pietro’s eyes are glinting when his grin widens. “It’s fucking scary how much you sound like our old man,” he says, and Steve lets out a laugh, clinking his wine against his brother’s when Pietro lifts up his glass.

... ...

Natasha is always aware of her surroundings (she has to be, considering she’s got a rather infamous face) but maybe even more so ever since the incident at the club. From her table in the corner, she has a perfect view of the doors of the coffeehouse, so she spots Wanda the moment the girl walks in. It doesn’t take her long to see Natasha, too, as her gaze instinctively sweeps across the room, and Natasha finds herself letting out a soft laugh when Wanda’s smile brightens, wiggling her fingers at Natasha in a wave. She places her order at the counter, dropping her change in the tip jar, and Natasha pulls her purse off of the other chair and onto her lap so Wanda can join her at the table.

“I was hoping I’d get to see you today,” Wanda tells her, and Natasha simply smiles because, honestly, she’s not surprised.

Word has always travelled around fast among the Families, but especially when incidents like yesterday occur. Though, considering the mess of cop cars and police tape that must’ve been posted around the club, it’d be hard not to know about it right away. She and Steve were still at her Uncle Howard’s when Wanda texted to check on her.

“Well, here I am,” Natasha quips, and though Wanda lets out a giggle, the concern is still clear as day in her eyes. Natasha reaches over, tucks some of the girl’s long hair behind her ear. “I’m alright,” she says simply, and, after a moment of holding her stare, Wanda’s body eases with a nod. “What about you?”

It's been a few days since the drive-by, but still. It happened just earlier this week, and the fact that two accidents occurred so close together is just…

It hardly seems like a coincidence, but for now, all she can justify her thought with is intuition, and she knows she’s going to need something more concrete to convince the rest of the Family that this may not be as simple as they want it to be.

“I feel like you do, I would think,” Wanda admits, giving her a small, knowing sort of smile and a shrug.

Natasha exhales a laugh; yeah, that sounds about right. “I’d imagine that you have more eyes on you, though,” she points out, because she knows Steve, and she knows Pietro and Clint, too. “In fact, I’m surprised you don’t have someone hovering over your shoulder right now.”

Wanda’s eyes twinkle, her smile widening. “Oh, I do,” she says, and Natasha follows the girl’s gaze out the glass and onto the car across the street.

A cop car, to be specific. It’s one of the newer ones that almost seem like it’s meant to be undercover—the ones that are all black, with sleek lights and far subtler decals that blend into the color pretty damn well— but it is a cop car, nonetheless. Natasha feels confused (and maybe a little bit wary, too) for a moment, but her gaze shifts back onto Wanda’s face before the girl has turned away, catching her calm, bright expression—and then Natasha feels her lips tug into a smirk as she realizes who must be in that car.

Bucky.

“Well, isn’t this a rather ironic development?” Natasha muses, and Wanda turns to look at her. “Quite an unusual choice in bodyguard for a mafia princess, don’t you think?”

Her cheeks brighten in a light blush even as she shakes her head. “It was probably just Steve’s doing,” she tells Natasha. “I think Steve could tell that all of their hovering was getting to be a little much. At least this way, I’d have a little more breathing room.”

“I doubt anyone would set up their little sister with a handsome man ready to be her knight in shining armor,” Natasha counters.

“Nat,” Wanda laughs.

“Don’t worry, you know I’m good at keeping secrets.” Natasha stands, setting her purse down on her chair. “I’ll even give you some private time to ogle him while I run to the restroom,” she adds with a wink, and Wanda laughs again with another shake of her head as Natasha walks over to the bathroom on the opposite side of the café.

There’s another small table in the corner by the bathrooms, one that Natasha had noticed a blonde woman sitting at when she first walked in, so she’s not surprised to see an emptied mug of coffee still on the table with a receipt half-tucked under it.

What does surprise her, though, is the signature swirled at the bottom of the receipt:

Sarah Rogers.

#romanogers #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #chanty writes #mafia 'verse

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divineecelestial · 5 years ago

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Out of Your League — Four

PAIRINGS — BUCKY BARNES X READER

SERIES SUMMARY — IN WHICH BUCKY BARNES GAINS A CRUSH ON A WOMAN SO OUT OF HIS LEAGUE.

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR — a simple date night

Your hand was interlocked with his, your manicured nails glittered with a milky iridescence as you pulled him from the balcony and he wordlessly complied. The compound was dim, lifeless as your sleek shoes clicked across the marble tiles. There wasn’t any indication that anyone was awake, the building was unusually serene and placid, the only source of sounds were the hushed hum of cars below. You emerged from the bleak darkness with an item sparkling in your hand; Tony’s car keys. With a devilish smirk, the keys jingled as you twirled them around your index finger. “Are you sure about this,” Bucky asked, his voice thick with apprehension.

You seemed enthralled with the possibility your mischievous schemes could be discovered and he couldn’t find himself capable of telling you anything other than compliance. Without another word, you continued pulling him through the shadows of the compound and inside the elevator. You pressed the glowing button and pressed your exposed back against the elevator’s stainless wall. Bucky mimicked you on the other side and his eyes remained situated on the floor. The walls vibrated as you both descended the building in a pleasing silence. As the elevator dinged, you grabbed his hand once again and pulled towards the collection of foreign cars. You pressed the small button on the keys and searched for the glossy vehicle that honked in response. In the distance, a McLaren’s headlights flickered and you weaved your way through the arrays of vehicles that glimmered in the fluorescent lights.

As Bucky carefully maneuvered through the room, you strode in-between the lustrous vehicles, peering over your shoulder to give a small glance at his mesmerized expression. You smiled as he hesitantly caressed the luxurious interior leather. In one fluid motion, you were inside the car and inserted the keys inside the ignition, a bellowing roar from the engine echoed through the garage. “You gonna get in or you gonna keep standing there and looking pretty?” You asked, your immaculate hands wrapped around the wheel. He shook his head from his daze and stepped inside beside you. Within seconds, you both were outside the garage and the chilly air crashed against your skin as you drove through the clamored streets with flowing ease.

Bucky couldn’t acknowledge the aesthetics of New York with you beside him. Your brilliant distinction against the multi-colored neon lights coloring your smooth face enhanced the splendor of the spectacle that was you. The wind collided through your hair, strands erratically flowed with the harsh breeze as you weaved through the streets. Your glossed lips twinkled as you smiled, entirely enjoying the spontaneity. There was something breathtaking about the blurred haze of neon lights from Time Square, your messy hair tangling and your smile that outshined all the sparkling lights that illuminated the night. You made an abrupt change in lanes, laughing as Bucky jerked in his seat. “Destination number one,” You said over the wind. You parked the car behind a small building and locked the doors with a single button. As you both stepped outside the car, things were much quieter and still, just as they had been on the balcony. “Get ready to have the best pizza you’ve ever had.”

You gently grabbed his hand and he was still getting used to the tenderness of your touch. You made those gestures absentmindedly like they were so simple and harmless, but they meant everything to him. Nothing you did was insignificant to him and sometimes it drove him crazy. He never could brush you off or focus on anything else when you were with him. So as you opened the back door to the small pizzeria with your fingers tangled in his, he could barely concentrate on where you were leading him because your hand was so soft and warm. That’s why he was slightly confused when you finally released him and wrapped your arms around an older man, and that’s when he realized you were both inside the pizzeria’s back kitchen. He could smell the variety of spices and savory cuisines as the older man pressed a chaste kiss on your cheek. What the fuck. You whirled back to face an unpleasantly confused and slightly jealous Bucky. “James Buchanan Barnes, meet our lovely chef for the night, Giovanni.”

Bucky politely nodded his head. Everyone in the back restaurant seemed to know you, he deducted upon noticing everyone’s disregard for your presence or the occasional wave you received from other cooks. “I’ve already prepared your table for you,” Giovanni said, returning back to the platter he was decorating. “Go and enjoy yourselves.” You happily obliged and motioned for him to follow. Instead of entering the actual dining area, you suddenly changed directions and pushed open a door further down a narrow hall, disappearing behind the closing door. And when he continued trailing after you like a wide-eyed puppy, you ascended a rusty spiral staircase.

From where he was, he could almost see the teasing lace fabric of your underwear peeking from beneath your dress. Your hips moved in a sultry, deliberate manner. You were definitely aware of your actions but Bucky couldn’t bring himself to be bothered or irritated by your lack of subtlety. And within seconds, you opened another door and welcomed him with the decorated rooftop that oversaw the quieter side of New York. There were rustic lightbulbs dangling from wire that outlined the roof, illuminating the table in warm light. There on the circular table was a single pizza box and soda poured inside plastic wine glasses. “Giovanni’s rooftop is one of the only places that I haven’t shared with anyone, so consider yourself lucky.” He didn’t understand why something as simple as a pizzeria rooftop was considered special or private, but he didn’t question you. There was a fondness in your eyes as you stood beside the table, eyes scanning the glittering lights of the city. This place meant something to you and regardless of how ordinary it was to him, he was grateful you decided to share it with him.

You seemed out of place with your designer satin dress that resembled liquid moonlight in a dingy rooftop with cheap chairs and food, but you seemed comfortable, at ease with the ambiance. You opened the cardboard box and placed a large, singular pizza slice on his plate, wordlessly urging him to take a bite. He raised the slice to his mouth and bit into the melted cheese and fluffy dough, eyes closing as he released an unintentional, but pleased, moan. “Giovanni’s a genius.” Was all Bucky could muffle through a stuffed mouth. You laughed but didn’t appear surprised by his reaction.

With a ghostly smile, your pristine hand curled around the plastic wine glass, raising the glass across the table. “To friends,” You said, but there was nothing friendly about the way you were looking at him. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to being looked at the way you were at that moment; like he was desirable, needed and wanted.

Bucky mimicked you and clinked his glass against yours. “To friends.” He repeated, but his voice lacked conviction. He knew he wasn’t going to last as being just your friend.

<<>>

“So, how did SHIELD recruit you,” Bucky questioned, his eyes concentrated on the multi-colored blur outside the car window. You raised the car roof and he could finally hear your voice clearly over the chaotic noise of the roads. Your hand tightened on the steering wheel for a brief second before you eased your muscles.

You were returning back to the compound and didn’t seem uncomfortable speaking on the matter, which he was relieved. He didn’t want to discuss something you couldn’t talk about, that was the last thing he wanted. “I have abilities,” You answered apprehensively. “I was raised within wealth. I was the spoiled, little girl who had everything she wanted and it wasn’t long before I found out that if I wanted something, all I had to was ask. For a while, I thought it was because I was a pretty teenager with a charming smile, but the things I could make people do was because more than a pretty face.” You made a smooth turn at a corner. “Tony and Banner call it Mental Manipulation; the ability to control brain functions. In simpler terms, I can control minds and it’s a very complex ability—an ability I took advantage of and put me on SHIELD’s radar.”

Bucky listened to each word that fell from your beautiful mouth intently but he didn’t question you any further. He wasn’t afraid or discouraged from the revelation, but was more amazed by your candor. “What can you do?”

You chuckled as his eagerness. “Plenty of horrible and amazing things,” You answered, “But I have to be touching you for my abilities to work.” You winked as soon as the words escaped your plump lips.

Bucky shifted in his seat, facing his body towards you. “Do something to me.”

“James Buchanan Barnes, we agreed on no sex,” You teased, “What would Steve think?”

He rolled his eyes but was clearly amused by your antics. “You know what I mean.”

You pondered for a moment, before smirking. “Remembered you asked for it,” Your open palm grasped his forearm. “Sleep.”

Within seconds, Bucky’s eyes rolled back and he carelessly slumped back onto his seat, his head banging against the window. He was unresponsive and looked absolutely adorable. You chuckled and tightened your grip on him, forcefully waking him from his unintentional slumber. He gasped as he jolted upward, his eyes wide and confused as he tried to understand how the hell you managed to put the Winter Soldier to sleep like it was nothing. “What the fuck.” He muttered to himself as you laughed beside him.

As you pulled into the compound’s garage, you carefully parked the car back in its original space. And soon you two were both back inside the small, compact elevator once again. “Thank you for tonight,” He said, shattering the serene silence. “I’m gonna say something and I’m probably going to regret it.”

You quirked an eyebrow, entirely intrigued. “By all means, continue. My curiosity is peaked.”

“I’ve spent almost an entire century brain-washed and frozen, there wasn’t much of actual life to be living, but you make me feel alive. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe again. And for that, I need to thank you.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but he could’ve sworn your cheeks tinted in a faint blush. “You’re going to be the death of me, James Buchanan Barnes.”

TAGLIST —

@mielfromvenus

@rynabarnesrogers

@buckybarnes-xyou

@furiousladyking

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yeaaabudddy · 5 years ago

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A Little Crossover (2/4)

Ship: Peter Parker x Batsis!Reader (Y/N)

Characters: Peter Parker (Spider-Man), Reader (S/H/N), Bruce Wayne (Batman), Dick Grayson (Nightwing), Jason Todd (Red Hood), Tim Drake (Red Robin), and Damian Wayne (Robin)

Type: Fluff + slight (?) Angst

Requested: Yes, by @wolfiemichele and @comicsgirlimagines

Words: 5 350

Notes: Wow, I wrote a lot for this. I honestly didn’t expect to write this much for the request but let me know if you want a part 3! Also wrote Damian as 12 lmao idk. Also some spiderman - homecoming plot!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

You and Peter texted quite a bit between the next few weeks. After getting his number, you messaged him that night.

You’ve been sending each other science memes and talking about hero work throughout your texts. Him talking about how often he gets hurt and how stupid some muggers are. He also slipped up once mentioning Tony Stark -or as he said it ‘Mr. Stark’ but you managed to put it together.

Hiding his identity was pointless as he realized, telling you his name after a few days. You already knew his number and he was associated with Tony. You knowing his name wouldn't mean anything.

Peter, is what he told you and what you changed his name to.

Your brothers started to notice your change as you were on your phone more than you usually are. They were getting suspicious but never invaded your privacy by easily checking who you were texting in their own ways.

You’re pretty sure Tim probably already has and you hoped that he didn’t read any messages.

You know the bats has been very suspicious of you though. After you met this guy, you suddenly start going on your phone more. He was a detective for a reason.

His research on Spider-Man came out extensive. He found out about all his info pretty easily as he was in Tony Stark’s system. He also managed to find out his abilities after inspecting his famous videos.

He already knew what was going on but he deemed the hero as safe (for now). He let you continue your canoodling with the boy.

You both live in different cities so it is a bit harder to meet up so he’ll let you have this, hoping it won’t go too far.

“Did you get a boyfriend?” Damian asks you suddenly. You were all sitting to eat breakfast and your phone had sounded with a message. You were about to check it but once everyone's gaze looked at you expectantly, waiting for an answer, you halted.

“How do you even know what that means?” You retaliate. You were quite shocked at Damian asking you this question as he was probably the least interested in things like this.

“I’m 12, not 2.” He retorted, his eyes still on you curiously though.

“Well?” Jason asked after a few seconds of you not answering.

“No! No, I don’t. Definitely not.” You denied with all your might. Yeah Peter was a sweetie but you guys don’t know each other too well. You haven’t been able to meet up so texting was as far as you guys went.

But summer was around the corner and Peter promised to visit you often, much to May’s dismay. His aunt was very hesitant after learning about his little getaway in Gotham when he was talking to Ned.

He thankfully didn’t mention anything about you to him at that time so May didn’t know about that. He enjoyed talking to you though, always messaging you whenever something interesting happens to him.

You always responded with a cute reaction or a meme and he loved it. He looked forward to your messages, always talking and not missing a day.

He wanted to meet you again in person though. He’d gotten to know you better online but he wanted to know more about you offline.

petey:

How about we meet up soon?

Peter held his breath as he saw you typing, waiting for your response.

y/n:

I think that’d be cool :)

He let out a breath of relief that he wasn’t horribly rejected because of the offer.

petey:

I could always swing over to gotham for a bit?

y/n:

Okay!

I kind of want to meet without masks though, kind of like how we’ve been talking for the past few days.

petey:

We could… meet up somewhere in the day during the weekend?

His heart raced at the thought of actually seeing you in person, without a mask. The last time he saw you on top of the pizza building, you had a domino mask on your face, hiding half your face. He still saw how beautiful you were though.

y/n:

Why don’t we meet up at the pizza building we were on top of after you ‘saved’ me?

petey:

That sounds good! How about Saturday?

y/n:

I’m free then!

petey:

That’s good

y/n:

I’ll see you Saturday at 5 okay?

petey:

That’s fine by me!

y/n:

See you then Peter! I can’t wait :)

petey:

Neither can I

Saturday couldn’t come faster for Peter. He took so many tests, actually went to school and didn’t disobey anything that Mr. Stark required.

The week was going great.

He swung through the city he loves, about to leave to Gotham and change before meeting you at the place.

He retraces his steps, finding himself near the alley where you met. He lands there, remembering the night. He hid behind a dumpster at the end of the alley, changing into his normal clothes.

You guys were supposed to meet in a few minutes and he rushed to stuff his suit in the backpack he carried. He ran along the sidewalk, seeing the sign for the pizzeria close by.

He made his way into the building, his hands sweating with nerves. He looks around the small restaurant, trying to see if he can find you.

You sat in the back, on your phone with a plate of fries in front of you.

He recognized your (h/c) and lips, the features he was able to see when he saw you in your costume. The memory replaying in his mind for the past few weeks as a reminder that you were real.

He took a chance, coming to your table.

“y/n?” You look up to see who you think is Peter standing before you.

“Peter?” After your phone conversation, you had been worried about how this was going to work out. You had taken a chance by asking to meet him while not being heroes and he agreed.

Your family would kill you but you wanted to be a normal girl and just hang out with friends wherever you want. So you forgot about your family for the night.

“Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” Peter sat down across from you in the booth.

He was cute.

That was that. His brown eyes were really warm and his face held an innocence you never knew a hero could have. All his nervous ticks came out as he played with his fingers or started fiddling around with his hoodie. You slid the fries to him, silently offering him some to give him something to be occupied with.

“It’s nice to actually talk to you, your texts are funny but it’s different seeing you in person.” Peter blushed lightly at the compliment. “Seeing the face behind the memes.”

“Can’t discredit your awesome science puns though.”

“Were you able to get here fine?” You asked, worried. You hoped that it didn't cause him too much trouble to get to here from his house.

“Yeah, you know web-slinging cuts down a lot of time. Don’t have to go through traffic or anything so it doesn't take that long.” He explained and you smiled at him, thankful that he decided to meet you here as you don’t think you’d be able to leave Gotham without at least one of your brothers tailing you.

“I’m glad, I hope we can do this more often then.” Peter nodded at your request, hoping that you would invite him to come again as well.

“How was your test on Friday?” You asked as you remembered him mentioning it to you a few days ago.

“It was alright, I ended up having to patrol a bit the day before so I didn’t get much studying in. I guess we’ll see in a few days.” Peter shrugged his shoulders as he looked over the plastic menu on the table.

“Damn I feel you. So many times I‘ve had to put studying on hold because I have to go and patrol, most of the others aren’t in school or aren’t old enough to understand what it’s like so I just have to suffer alone.” You said excitedly. You were actually talking to someone about problems the same as yours.

“The others… are you talking about your team?” Peter asked with wide, curious eyes.

“Yeah, my team. They asked about you, you know?” His eyes widened at the fact that they were curious about him.

“Me?”

“Yeah, found out you accidentally got yourself here and asked me about you.” Peter paled a bit at the fact that he was in Batman’s radar. You saw his terrified face, laughing a bit. “Don’t worry, they won’t do anything to you.” He calmed down at your reassurance, picking at the fries that was set in between you both.

“Unless you give them a reason to.” Peter stiffened up again at the thought of having multiple eyes on him, watching him. “Let’s order now, shall we?” You giggled at his expression of nervousness but it soon bled into a cute smile at the thought of finally getting to eat.

“Yeah, I’m starved.” You both decide to get one extra large pizza for the two of you, mixing in whatever toppings you both agreed upon and ordering dip. Ordering other side dishes you both wanted.

Your day went on just like that. Talking, eating, and just having fun. It felt almost like a nice date to you and you wouldn’t have minded it being one because of how sweet and considerate Peter was.

He asked you questions about your ‘team’ with innocent curiosity that you ended up confiding in him with information even though you don’t like talking much about them, afraid you’re going to accidentally slip up something.

You ended up asking about him and his suit, which he spent 20 minutes gushing about but you had no heart to stop him from the praises he gave his mentor.

It was such a fun night and when you both finished your last slice and paid (you both ended up splitting), it was time to leave for the night. You wished that he could stay but you know he had to go as it was bordering 8 o’clock and his aunt was wondering where he is.

You both stepped into the cool night of Gotham, free of your costumes and just being teenagers.

“This was so much fun, It’s nice talking to someone who’s in the same situation as me. Hope you can come around again.” Your once confident self a bit shy at the aspect of inviting him back, hoping he’d agree.

“Just let me know when and where.” His response warmed your heart as you both walked in the cold wind to the alley he had to go to change in.

“For sure.” You let him go with a wave, waiting for his spider-sona to appear out of the alley after a minute.

His suit still amazed you as it was so tight and bright. Not used to so much colour in one outfit but you guess that’s what he brings to your life now.

“I’ll message you when I get back home.” He said as he wore his backpack on his shoulders, about to leave. You nod in response and he shoots his web to the tall building above you and swings away. His red and blue suit colouring the night.

You sigh as you realize once you get back home your siblings are probably going to be there. You really didn’t want to deal with them after such a nice day. You love them but they were pretty protective over you sometimes.

You quietly open the door the manor, hoping that no one was loitering around the area so you can run up to your room. You sneak to the stairs but before you can make your way up a voice behind you startles you.

“You know, I saw the funniest thing.” You freeze in your step, you usually weren’t this horrible with sneaking around but your good mood has made you sloppy. Your eyes squeezed shut hoping that if you couldn’t see him then he wasn't actually there.

He spoke up again as if he realized you were pretending to be invisible.

“Don’t you wanna know what I saw?” Dick loved to tease you a lot because you felt like a younger sister to him, so he really did care for you and decided to keep an eye on you. He knows how mean society can be to a young girl and he always wanted you to live your life without these problems.

He knows you’re strong and you can handle yourself but sometimes you are a 15-year-old girl and even he forgets it at times because of how mature you come off some times and how you act so serious when you help with patrolling.

You turn around, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. You see Dick smirking at you as he waits for your response to continue teasing you.

“What did you see?”

“It’s crazy, I thought I saw this guy dressed in this obnoxiously bright red and blue suit, swinging around the streets of Gotham. A very tight bodysuit might I add.” Dick was here for the weekend and you wished he would go back to his own apartment now.

“Wow! I can’t believe that.” You faked surprise, going overboard with enthusiasm. “What a sight attraction that must’ve been. I gotta go.” You quickly turn around but your brother's tough grip on your shoulder stops you right away.

“Wait a second!” He turned you around and this time his smirk wasn’t on his face.

“Saw you with a guy a few minutes after, I swear I was passing by!” He defended himself once you rolled your eyes at his observation. “I was getting burgers from down the street and saw you.” He explained sincerely, making you know that he was telling the truth.

“But, you sure you know what you’re doing?” He looked concerned that you were getting closer to a person that didn't live in this city and was also a hero.

“Don’t worry about it Dick, I know what I’m doing and he’s harmless. If I had any doubt I would’ve come to you guys first.” He loosened up realizing that you probably knew what you were doing.

“Fine, I trust you. I don’t like it… but I trust you.” You smiled in appreciation.

“Thanks, Dick. If it helps I’ll invite him over here next time so you can realize that he’s not a threat.” You meet him halfway, knowing he just wants you safe. The number of times people close to you have betrayed you became one too many.

“Alright. Be careful.” He leaves you to go back to your room and relax before going on your nightly patrol.

“That went better than I thought.” You whispered to yourself as you closed the door to your room. “At least it wasn’t Jason.”

“Dick might’ve gone to you first but I have stuff to say too!”

“Oh my gosh!”

After a speech from Jason you were finally left alone to yourself that night, letting you find solace in your quiet room.

Since then you and Peter have only talked more, sometimes even facetiming when you were both bored in your rooms or doing homework during weekdays before going out to stop crime.

You met up a few more times, meeting up halfway so he doesn’t always come to you.

You even met Ned through facetime as he was a close friend of Peter’s and hangs around him most of the time outside of school. Their close-knit friendship made you jealous at times that he had someone like that for him.

You couldn’t complain because of the amount of people who probably had your back at home but it didn’t feel the same sometimes. Sure, you had your friends at school but they didn’t really know about you so you didn’t have the same support.

You and Peter had a lot in common though and it was awesome. Hearing him talk all science made you so attracted to him sometimes and you knew that you were crushing. He would go off on tangents, talking in depth about his webbing and formulas or topics he’s interested in and you couldn’t help but be captivated.

You couldn’t help yourself though, he was cute, smart and literally the brightest hero. Obviously, you repressed it because you don’t really want to bring that up to ruin your progressing friendship.

It’s been a while since you saw him face to face and you both have been planning to meet up before first semester exams hit and you’ll both be busy.

“You could visit my house.” You offered. You guys were facetiming as you did your homework, you both liked to multi-task so you always talked while you did work. Sometimes you’ll play him a song you’ve been obsessed with and sometimes he’ll show you cool things he’s bought like action figures or play sets.

Peter looked at you through the screen with a shocked expression at the thought of going to your home. You both knew each other pretty well now and have talked so much that you thought maybe inviting him over wouldn’t be that bad.

“Really?” Peter suddenly remembering how many brothers you said you had and got nervous. “I don’t really wanna intrude.” He did want to see you again though.

“Nonsense, you’re always welcome.” Your statement caught him off guard as you were serious with your statement. All his worries were thrown out the window and instead he accepted coming to your house before he could realize what he was doing.

“Thanks,” Peter said softly and you looked at him through your phone screen.

“It’s no problem, Peter.” You smiled faintly at him, the moment felt sweet and pure between you two.

After finishing your homework and ending the call you lay back into your bed with a huge sigh.

Your feelings were getting crazy, your whole life revolved around the fact that you were a hero, you saved lives at night and that was who you were. Then Peter shows up with his friendship in hand and you felt something you never felt before.

You were never one to put a boy as one of your priorities. You always felt that it was stupid to revolve yourself around a guy and put so much into a relationship that probably won’t last but with Peter you realized that sometimes you need to focus on being happy in the moment.

Your life has been so serious that it was nice feeling like a teenage girl and the rest of the guys saw you becoming happier. They still didn’t really approve of your friendship with Peter because they all knew he was Spider-Man by now.

They thought that you should get a normal life by going out with someone who wasn’t involved with the criminal life, all wanting the best for you if they couldn’t get it. They knew that you were a part of the whole thing so it's hard to have anything normal.

Them all having ex-girlfriends who usually were also a part of the vigilante life.

You just called them hypocrites and they didn’t comment on it again but you know they still thought of it.

Your idea of bringing Peter to your house and getting to know your brothers is a plan to (hopefully) get them to take a liking to Peter.

You don’t know why it’s so important to you that they like Peter but you feel like it’s a crime if someone doesn’t like him because of how sweet, kind and thoughtful he is.

He always reminded you that you had someone to talk to and he helped talk you through some of your own low moments where you weren’t feeling the best. One call from him and you felt better in an instant.

You went on to change and make your way to the cave to get assigned to a section of Gotham to monitor. Tonight wasn’t too much of a big deal there was no mission report as Gotham has been quiet for a few days so Batman said to report anything important that happened directly to him.

Your night was going by slowly. You saw a few crimes near you and took care of them quickly. They were petty crimes like robberies or attempted assault.

What you didn’t expect to see was Peter in a second-hand Spider-Man suit on top of the pizza building you first met at.

“Spider-Man?” You were still mindful of his identity, unsure if it even was Peter.

The boy doesn’t look up at you and instead keeps his focus on the view of the streets underneath him.

You sit next to him on the edge of the building, making sure you got your grappling hook on stand by for emergencies.

“Are you okay?” You questioned. You realized that the suit was an old suit you’ve seen in some videos of Spider-Man earlier in his career. “Did something happen?” You feel panicked at the fact you got no response from him.

“I messed up really bad y/n.” Peter’s unmistakable voice rang through your ears. Your heart hurt at the raw sound of his voice, he sounded like he was crying.

You took a quick look at him and got up from the edge where you were sitting. You reach your hand out to him for him to take and he looks at it curiously.

“Alright, get up.” Peter grabbed your hand and pushed himself off the building ground, standing in front of you. He looked at you expectantly. “Follow me.”

You walk towards the stairs of the building still grabbing his hand to make sure he followed you and only letting go when you went to walk down. You both enter the nearly empty streets of Gotham -as everyone was smart enough not to leave right now.

The image was pretty comical as you were in your black expensive, custom made suit matched with the silver bat-symbol on your chest and a dark domino mask concealing your identity. Next to you was a boy in red and blue DIY clothes bought from a regular store and goggles for eyes. But you were feeling anything but that.

You guys walked side by side, Peter not questioning where you were taking him. You strolled up to a big mansion and Peter was taken aback.

“Where are we?” Peter reluctantly asked, unsure of the situation.

“Just wait.” You took him towards the back of the manor, where you usually sneak in and out of from. You didn’t want your brothers to see him especially not when Peter was clearly dealing with something.

You start climbing the wall of the manor, the bricks assisting you. You reach your window on the second floor and climb in, looking down at Peter who stood in shock at the bottom.

“Come up!” You whisper yelled at him, making sure that no one outside could hear you. Once inside it wasn’t a problem since your rooms were pretty far from each other and the walls were pretty thick.

“Are you sure?” Peter looked hesitant at the wall in front of him, realizing this was probably your house.

“What? You forgot how to climb or something?” You tease him, knowing how easy it probably was for him to climb up two stories.

Peter shook his head at your jab, climbing up the wall and you make room for him to enter through your window. You realized you’re going to be showing Peter your room for the first time and you were nervous for his reaction.

You were more worried for what he was upset about though. If he came to Gotham to talk to you because he felt lonely in Queens then it was probably something serious.

Seeing Peter sad wasn’t a sight you liked. He looked like a kicked puppy and you just wanted to give him all the support and happiness you could. There was something about him that just made you want to keep him happy.

He looked around your room, seeing the theme of your favourite colour scheme, it seemed like he was seeing a personal part of you. This is where you are most of your time and seeing it through a phone screen is different from seeing it in real life.

It was less dark than he expected but still on brand. Looking around the room made him occupied for a bit but a wave of sadness came over him after remembering why he came to you.

“Here, come sit.” You sat down on your well-made bed, putting your back against the wall. You pat the spot next to you.

Peter looked hesitant but your bed seemed comfy and you were being so nice to him and so he sat next to you, pushing himself so the wall hit his back. Your shoulders were touching but you didn’t mind it, turning to look at him instead.

The proximity between you two was a bit distracting for Peter as he never was this close to you or even anyone, really. The warmth of your body heat emitted off of you and onto Peter, making him nervous.

“What happened?” Your voice was soft in the silence of your room, comforting Peter. He took off his red homemade mask, showing his pink and puffy face. Your heart hurt at the red eyes Peter had.

“I- I don’t know, I just I-I wanted to-” Peter stuttered over his words as he remembered what happened with him and Tony. How he disappointed him.

You saw him as he struggled over his words, his eyes welling up with tears and you knew Peter needed to let his emotions out. You always saw Peter so happy and making the mood bright so seeing him this upset over something, you knew it was something serious.

You don’t want to see Peter like this, it’s so weird to see him do anything other than innocently staring or idiotically smiling.

You grab Peter’s hand to show him that you were there for him and that he had someone listening to him. His hand clutched yours, forgetting about how nervous and shy he is around you because it hurt.

“y/n…” Tears started rolling down his eyes as he tried to understand how he would come back from this.

“It’s okay to cry, Peter.” You hushed him, your voice soft to make sure he doesn’t feel like he couldn’t cry around you.

“It’s not okay, I-I disappointed him.” You instantly knew he was talking about Tony and your heart physically hurt because you know how much he adores the guy. How much Peter idolizes him and you felt it.

You too felt the same way towards Bruce. You had times when you first arrived into the family where all you wanted to do was impress everyone. You rushed into a lot of stuff and Bruce had to yell at you to slow down before you realized that you were ruining your chances at making him proud at you with your eagerness.

You turned that passion into trying to solve a case as best as you can and that’s when Bruce started trusting you more.

Peter was still so new to everything and sometimes you forget that because he’s the same age as you but you understand how he feels.

Your hand reaches up to his face, his tears glowing against his skin. You turn his head to look at you, hand caressing the side of his face for comfort. His watery eyes broke your heart.

“Peter, he might be disappointed but that doesn’t mean that it’s the end of the world.” Your eyes looked at him with seriousness. Since Tony wasn’t giving him the advice he needed you knew that you should probably help him out.

“I know it feels like it but you’ll come back from this. I know how much you wanted to make him proud and you will.” Peter looked away from your eyes, his mind filling up with negativity.

“What if this just isn’t for me?” Your eyes widened at his doubt. You never knew how insecure Peter was, you didn’t know he felt so confused about what he was doing. Your hand left his face and he turned away from you.

You always knew what you wanted to do and the vigilante life was yours and no matter how many mistakes you made, you never gave up on it because you knew people out there need help.

“Don’t give up just like that.” You understood he was upset but to just quit after one mistake? “People need your help and you have the ability to help them.” Peter shook his head, wiping his tears.

“I made a mistake and hundreds of people could’ve died.”

“But they didn’t!” You grabbed his hand again, trying to make him understand that but he took it back knowing that you were trying to get him to continue being Spider-Man even after how many people he could’ve killed.

“Yeah, because Tony was there.” Peter stood up from your bed, wanting to leave.

“Don’t go. You’re not in the right mindset.” You try and stop him from leaving through your window.

“No, I think that I’m finally realizing that maybe I should just live like a normal 15-year-old.” He clenched his jaw, his head and gaze looking towards your carpet.

“Peter, I get that you’re weary right now-”

“It’s not about that! I almost killed so many people today.”

“It happens! You’re a hero and you’re just starting out. It’s not always gonna be the best day!” Your voice got a bit louder but you were still aware of your surroundings.

“Then maybe I’m not made for this.” You saw Peter in a whole different light from before. You always saw him as someone going through the same thing as you and this was something you couldn’t agree with.

He had actual powers that could save so many people but he’s throwing it away. You know that he’s made a mistake but he still has a duty.

“Peter. I get taking a break for a bit, get your head back to a good headspace but your people still need you.” You try to soften your voice back up, understanding that what he did wasn’t something small.

You know the effects of not being able to save everyone can get to people and Peter is the most innocent person you’ve met. Seeing him affected wasn’t a surprise but for him to give up on everyone else was what shocked you.

“They need someone better.” You frowned, bringing yourself closer to him.

“No, they need you, Peter. They need Spider-Man. You’re the one paying attention to them. Iron Man doesn’t take care of street crime and protect the neighbourhood. You do!”

“I can’t do it.” Peter’s voice broke as he took in your statements. His mind was confused because Tony told him he wasn’t good enough and here you are telling him that he’s more than enough.

Instead of saying anything, you just hug him. You knew he needed support and not someone telling him to do something and no matter how much you don’t like the fact that he wants to stop helping, you have to respect his feelings at the moment.

You both are just 15 but it feels as if you have the whole city in your hand.

Peter hugged back, tightly. His hands coming around to your waist. You guys just basked in each other’s arms for a few minutes before he pulled away from you, walking towards the window with his mask in his hand.

“I gotta go.” He put his mask on his face, jumping out your window with no hesitation.

You didn't realize that this was going to be the last you heard of Peter for a while.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #spider-man imagines #spider-man x reader #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #jason todd imagine #dick grayson imagine #tim drake imagine #damian wayne imagine #tom holland imagines

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graequeen · 4 years ago

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La Mia Ragazza Rockey Chapter 4

"Well that one was a no…" I said to myself as I crossed out the tutor position off of my list. It had been a week since I emailed my resume to them, and I had only received a response back from them earlier today. It was a formal response, or as formal as it could be, as it questioned the nerve I had applying to a job I didn't qualify for. They ended up hiring a college student a few days earlier, and had simply forgotten to notify the other applicants.

I've been running between job interviews, and the only thing I've accomplished was a well deserved work out. After all of the food and booze I've consumed over the past few weeks, I would still need to continue walking for another couple of miles.

At the current moment, I was sitting outside a Dunkin Donuts, enjoying my third cup of Iceed Coffee, which I knew I was going to regret later. My interview list had gotten shorter, with only two interviews left; both of which were at the mall.

"I thought I've past that point in my life where I would need to find work at a mall?" I asked myself depressingly. I figured I would be at a different part of my life at this age. The fact that I was currently considering working at the GAP, meant that I had hit a new low in my life. But money was money, and I needed a lot of it.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pant suit pocket; my short break was over. In order to make it to my next interview, I would need to walk 45 minutes. Thankfully I was wearing something comfortable: a dark grey pant suit with a pink blouse. I had on flats, and my hair was let loose into large curls. When this was done, I am going to buy Tony the biggest bottle of wine.

I got up, and began making my way down Broad St. For the first few minutes, I remained focused. By the time I made it to the next block, I got distracted. I began looking through shop windows, and began to buy small snacks. I'm such a mess…

As I crossed to the next block, I noticed a small child walking by himself. He had on a private school uniform: navy blue pants, grey jacket, white button up shirt with a navy blue bowtie. His reddish-brown hair was disheveled, as if he had just woke up. But it was his face that concerned me. His face had lost all color, and there was a blank expression in his eyes. There seemed to be something wet covering most of his head, and the top half of his uniform. It was as if something was poured over him.

'Was he being bullied?' I asked myself. The thought alone triggered back a flood of painful memories. By the end of the day, I was going to end up drunk and binge eating again. 'FUCKING GREAT!'

This kid was gaining the attention of everyone around him. Some were concerned, but for the most part, they kept to themselves. Though I knew I had to go to the next interview, I couldn't help but follow him. I wanted to make sure he was ok.

Once he hit the corner of the street, he turned to his right, and continued walking. It was a quiet street; not many shops, other than one pizzeria. I continued following him, making sure nothing happened to him. 'But how long can I follow this kid for…?'

I began walking right next to him, hoping he would notice my presence. But I quickly realized I could have worn a space suit clown outfit; I was never going to get noticed by this kid.

"Hey kid, are you ok?" I asked softly. I guess I startled him, because he stopped and turned to stare at me with wide eyes. Before he could answer me, we were interrupted by a small group of boys.

"There goes the little bastard immigrant!" A boy yelled from behind us. There were four of them, looking as if they were in their last year of middle school. They were the definition of pretty boy, rich kids that ran their school.

The look on the other boy never went away; in fact, it looked like it got worse. His attention turned to his abusers. He began to shake at the sight of them. A large knot began forming at the bottom of my stomach.

The main bully began to waltz over to us; he didn't even bother looking at me. He figured I was not going to do anything. He was a brunette pretty boy, who came to my shoulders. There was an arrogant, cocky manner in the way he walked; it bothered the shit out of me.

"Who the fuck do you kids think you are?" I asked, stepping in front of the small child. The other boy looked at me, as if just realizing I was there the whole time.

"Move bitch!" The main kid said as he attempted to push me out of the way. Without thinking I grabbed his arm, twisted it, and pushed him back to his group. Apparently I used too much force, cause there were tears in his eyes. The other three boys had a look of fear as they saw their ringleader reduced to tears.

"They don't make bullies the same way anymore, huh?" I asked out loud. "Why don't you punk ass kids get out of here before I show you some old school bullying." The group of kids looked at each other, back to me, before turning around.

"This isn't over tomato-face little bitch!" The ringleader said, before leaving with his cronies. They raced towards the end of the street before jumping into a black town car. I didn't get a chance to write down the license plate.

"I don't need your damn help!" The boy behind me grunted angrily with a heavy Italian accent. I turned around with a weird, annoyed face. I was not going to let this brat talk to me like that after I saved him.

"Look here kid, I don't give a flying rat's ass if you asked for help, or not. I'm not going to let anyone get bullied in front of me." I said as I crossed my arms, giving him my best adult look.

"Wipe that look off your face grandma! I could've handled my own! I don't need help from other bullies!" He said as he attempted to walk away from me. I should've just left it as us, but for some reason, I couldn't help but interfere more.

"Look here you piece of slimy poop!" I said, grabbing the kid on the shoulder and redirecting him to a small table outside the pizzeria. Before he had a chance to protest, I forced him to sit. I looked at him eye to eye, making sure he understood how serious I was.

"I never said I was a bully...I just know how to deal with them." My voice began to shake a little as I repressed violent memories. "I just know how bullies work."

I grabbed a few napkins off of my small handbag, and drenched it with some water from my water bottle. I carefully began to wipe his face, trying to be as gentle as possible. He was clearly not happy about me touching him. His eyes showed a huge distrust in me, and if I was not careful of what I did or said, I'd lose him.

"One time, my bully kept me inside the girl's bathroom for the entire day. She kept beating my ass, and dunking my head into the toilet. I swear to this day, I cannot pass a public bathroom without feeling like there is still shit and piss in my hair. I think I got all of it out…"

He laughed for a split second, before returning to a serious face. I broke through somehow, and I needed to make sure I kept it up.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked, "H-how old were you?"

"I was 16." I admitted in defeat. "My name is Jaz, but you can call me Rockey." I said, extending my hand. He took it with his after much hesitation.

"My name is Matteo." he said.

#authors #romance #good reads #my writing #writers on tumblr

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bruciewayne · 6 years ago

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mess you up

firefighter/detective au

its a lot less complicated than tony thought it would be

“Pep. Pep, I can’t do it, he’s too hot,” Tony muttered, eyes glued to Steve, continuing his Romeo and Juliet forbidden-romance, epic love story in his head. He supposed, halfway through choreographing a fight scene between Steve’s Chief and his Captain in his head, that the was being slightly, maybe, too dramatic. Not about Steve being too hot, because that man managed to look good no matter what. Literally no matter what - Tony had once seen him with most of his clothes burnt off, running on 5 hours sleep over three days, barely standing and half an eyebrow singed off, and he still looked fucking edible.

It hadn’t helped that he decided to notch his eyebrow after it grew back and he drove a motorbike and he wore a leather jacket. Fuck, he was so, so hot.

But that wasn’t why Tony was being dramatic - the ‘forbidden’ part of their romance was that Steve worked for the FDNY and Tony worked for the NYPD. It wasn’t legally forbidden, but he would be castrated socially if he admitted to having a crush on being vaguely attracted to his face, body and personality. Kinda. Not really. No-one cared.

Tony had hoped that it would be basically career suicide to date someone from the fire department so he’d never have to actually ask him out, but, unfortunately not. Which meant that he had no reason to not ask him out.

It would be very, very different if Tony just wanted to have sex with him - he would flirt, back off if he wasn't interested, if he was - go to his place, leave before the sun came up and then never see him again, but Tony was fucking head-over-heels for this man.

They’d met maybe six months ago on an arson case and, ok, they had a rocky start, but as soon as they stopped being prinks (courtesy of Barnes and Nat) to each other, they actually got along, solved the case (jealous pizzeria owner - surprisingly rare), exchanged numbers and somehow became ridiculously close friends very quickly and then becoming something a little more.

Over the last couple months Tony had learnt that Steve was not only just hot (genetics) and brave (his job) but he was kind and funny and stupidly stubborn and ridiculously passionate about everything he believed in, the important stuff (the horse in the national hospital) and things that, ultimately didn’t matter (baseball), and he was an artist. The last one shouldn’t matter as much but last month, for Tony’s birthday, he’d given him a painting of Dum-E that somehow reminded him of Wall-E enough to make his eyes water slightly (he swore someone was cutting onions somewhere, fucking Ramsay). He loved him so fucking much.

To his shock, according to Barnes, via Nat, Steve was equally as head-over-heels for him, but, according to Barnes (via Instagram DM) he was ‘too chicken-shit to do anything about it’ and he has ‘a plethora of other insecurities’ concerning Tony actually liking him back and first of all; Tony was surprised that Barnes knew long words - the mini-Steve, that had taken residence inside his head around February, scolded him for being prejudiced against firemen but logically, Tony knew that he would call Barnes an idiot if he was an astronaut or an assassin, so shush, mini-Steve.

All of this brought him here - at some dumb function the district threw every year, he knew he shouldn’t call it dumb (thank you mini-Steve), it was for charity after all, but, but, it was June in Brooklyn, inside. Which meant that Steve wasn’t wearing a jacket and he had his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, he somehow didn’t understand that he was beefed as hell and over six foot and not the tiny bean-pole thing he was in highschool (Steve lost a bet, his mom was ready and willing to embarrass him) or someone forgot to tell him because his shirts were always at least a size too small, usually two, and looked pretty much painted on. Tony wanted to tear them off his ridiculously toned… everything.

The blue dress shirt he was wearing was no exception, Tony watched as he shifted his stance and crossed his arms and those seams were the strongest thing in existence, damn. It did not help whatsoever that over the course of the night he’d loosened his tie and his hair had gotten slightly messed up - he was borderline debauched and it made Tony want to shove him against the wall and kiss him until he was completely debauched and fucking wrecked.

Steve caught his gaze and waved at him - stupid fucking adorable golden retriever man - and oh shit made his way over. Tony turned to Pepper for help but she just patted his arm, wished him good luck and walked away.

“Hey Tony,” Steve greeted, smiling, tugging at his collar, “you, uh, clean up nice,” he stuttered, eyes sweeping over Tony. How on earth he managed to be breathtakingly beautiful and hot, and a stuttering mess at the same time was beyond him in so many ways. Tony grinned back at him and said, softer than he meant to, “Not to bad yourself, Rogers.”

“I thought we were on first-name basis, Stark,” Steve teased, after clearing his throat and pushing his sleeves up and oh wow Steve smelled good, and they were incredibly close, have his eyes always been so blue and bright?

Fuck it.

Tony grabbed Steve’s hand and tugged him outside, the cool air rushing around his red ears, the brightest stars just about coming out, the soundscape of the city echoing around them and the chatter of people inside floating out but all Tony could focus on was Steve.

“Steve, stop me if you want, but, I like you, in more than a friendly way and I-mmf-” Steve never got to hear the rest of his sentence because he pushed him against the wall and kissing him, trying to pour every ounce of emotion he felt towards him into every swipe of his tongue, arms coming to wrap around Tony’s waist.

Tony reciprocated, pushing up into the kiss, tangling his hands around his neck and raking the tips of his fingers in his hair. They were both panting when they pulled away, a light flush on both of their cheeks.

“Your place?” Tony asked, still trying to catch his breath, not at all helped by Steve who was kissing very distractingly down his neck. “Your place is closer,” he mumbled, softly biting his earlobe. Tony could feel that smug fucker smiling against his skin when he gasped and his hips bucked against Steve’s involuntarily. Yeah, Tony would not have made it back to Steve’s place.

“You gonna - fuck - let me go so I can drive us to mine?” Tony asked as Steve found out all the sensitive spots of his neck. He drew him in for another kiss, this time Tony was the one in charge, experimentally tugging on Steve’s hair and smiling as he gasped and shifted impossibly closer to him - he’d always suspected that he was a kinky motherfucker.

When they pulled away, Steve looked slightly dazed and his pupils were huge - the science and logic part of Tony’s brain told him that it was because they were in the dark but the slightly possessive side told him that Steve was like that because of him. Tony liked that theory more.

“Nah,” Steve said, smirking and then generally made life difficult for him by kissing him. It wasn’t that difficult. Tony kinda liked it. (He liked it a lot.) ((He liked Steve a lot.))

He lied. Steve Rogers was evil. Sexy, hot and fucking adorable, but evil. Steve had caught on - the intuitive fellow - that Tony liked the debauched, dishevelled look on him and spent the entire car ride back messing himself up.

“Stop it,” Tony saud, eyes fixated on the road - like a good driver - very obviously Not Watching Steve fiddle with his sleeves, mess with his hair and tug on his tie.

“Stop what?” he asked, fairly innocently.

“Nice try, Rogers, your homeless-puppy-dog look stopped working a long time ago,” Tony said (it definitely hadn’t), thankful to have a slight upper-hand in the situation.

“Back to last name basis?” Steve teased as Tony pulled into his driveway.

Tony harrumphed and reached over the console to completely untie Steve’s tie and smoother it out over his chest, Steve smiled softly at him and kissed the corner of his mouth sweetly. Tony held his gaze for a couple seconds and then grabbed the ends of his tie and pulled him in for a harsh, bruising kiss, tongue sweeping into his mouth.

When they pulled away, Steve was breathing heavily, breath blowing over Tony’s lips, his irises were barely-there blue slivers, his lips were bitten red-pink and his hair was so, so messed up, flopping all over his face at the front and in ridiculous spikes at the back.

Steve blinked at him, dazed, “Fuck me,” he muttered, fingers flitting over Tony’s hips, slipping under his shirt.

“That’s the plan.”

all fic masterpost

#stevetony #stony fic #stony fic rec #stevetony fic #stevetony fluff #stony fluff #firefighter steve rogers #detective tony stark #enemies to lovers #kinda #getting together #mutual pining #i keep forgetting that tumblr tags work v different to ao3 #my fic #my writing #guess who cant remember what tags they use

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like-a-bag-of-potatoes · 7 years ago

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My Saviour - Five

A/N: I'm loving all the feedback on this. Thank you all so much. There will be two chapters this week, on today and one on Thursday or Friday. Special shout out to my beta @thorne93, you are awesome.

Characters: Dean, Reader, Jo Harvelle, Alex. A little time jump. a tiiiiiny little cliffhanger at the end...

Warnings: Alex is a DICK. Angst. Cheating. Alcohol.

Wordcount: 2488

Catch up HERE

The next couple of months flew by in a hurry. Alex was pretty busy trying to finish his project before the deadline, which meant working long hours and spending very little time at home, which was a huge bonus for you. There had been a couple of incidents since you were released from hospital, but nothing major, nothing that needed medical attention.

You had been busy at work as well, taking on a few night shifts here and there in addition to your regular hours, just to make a few extra bucks.

Dean was by the bar almost every day, having breakfast or lunch, or even dinner. He made sure to come by when there wasn't much chance of running into Alex though, and whenever he was in to eat, he sat at a booth or a table instead of at the bar, in case your husband did show up.

You were feeling a lot better, not as dizzy and not as nauseous as you had been for a while, probably because your arm had healed and you were no longer in pain.

The night shift on Saturday had been a nightmare. The Leprechaun had been filled to the brim with cheery sports fans and even though it was good for business, it was definitely bad for your feet. You couldn't wait to get back home and put your feet up, maybe take a bath before going to bed.

The little clock on your dashboard showed 1:45 am as you pulled your car into the driveway at home. The lights were still on inside so you knew Alex had waited up for you, you just hoped he was tired, or maybe had fallen asleep in front of the TV.

When you opened the car door, music immediately filled your ears, and you didn't even have to wonder where it came from. You walked into your house and all you wanted to do was cry out in frustration. It was loud. The music was loud, the people were loud, it smelled like stale alcohol and there was empty bottles and cans everywhere.

“Babe, you’re home,” Alex said, slurring his words. He was clearly drunk. “I'm having a party.”

“I can tell.”

“You’re not mad are you?” he asked, a little aggressive.

“No, I'm not mad at all,” you said, faking a smile. “But I had a really long day today, and I'm not in a party mood. I'm gonna grab a change of clothes and drive around for a little while,” you said, leaning in and giving him a kiss.

You had done this in the past, driven around town, or found a secluded place to be alone when he had the house full of people. You knew he didn't want you there just as much as you didn't want to be there.

Alex kissed you once more before you hurried upstairs, got changed, and headed back out to your car. You knew exactly where to go.

You drove for about ten minutes, until you reached the edge of town, before you took a left turn down a gravelly road. When you reached the end, you stopped the car and was about to get out, an idea crossed your mind. Before you had a chance to change your mind, you took out your phone and sent a message to Tony’s Pizzeria.

Hey. Remember that place by the lake where we partied during high school? There was a huge party at my house when I got home from work, so I bailed. You still up?

You typed up the message to Dean, pressing send as soon as it was written. You knew that he was most likely asleep, but there was a chance he was not and you would really appreciate the company right now.

I remember. I just finished work so I'll be there in 15 minutes tops ;)

You deleted both texts from your phone before getting out of your car, taking a seat under the large tree that stood right at the edge of the water, giving you a nice view of the place. It was the middle of the night, so it was dark out there, but there was a few street lights lighting up the road, and the moon was right up above you, making the water sparkle as it moved. It was a beautiful night.

You had spent a lot of time under this tree over the past year's, it had become like a safe haven for you whenever you could get out of the house for a little while. Normally Alex preferred that you stayed home, but when he was having his friends over, or having a party, like tonight, he didn't mind you leaving at all.

It didn't take long before the loud roar of a car could be heard in the quiet night, and just a couple of seconds later, you could see the headlights of a car.

Dean jumped out of the Impala and headed straight to you, taking a seat on the ground, putting some space between the two of you.

“Hi,” you said, smiling softly at him. You couldn't see the freckles on his nose in the dim light, but his green eyes sparkled in to moonlight. There was a calm that spread through you as soon as he sat down, a feeling of safety that you had never had with anyone before.

“Hi,” he said, returning your smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “I raided the vending machine at the hospital before I left,” he said, and just then you noticed the white plastic bag next to him. Dean grinned as he poured the content on the ground, chips, chocolates, and gummy bears now littering the space between you.

“You didn't have to do this,” you said, looking at him in awe.

“I know. I wanted to,” he assured. “Hold on… I forgot something in the car,” he added, getting up and jogging to his car. “Coke or Sprite?” he asked, holding out two cans of soda.

“Which one do you want?” you asked, still smiling.

“The one you don't want.”

“Coke?” you asked.

Dean handed you the soda and then sat back on the ground next to you, still leaving a little space between you. He opened the can and took a sip before swapping it out with a chocolate bar, only struggling a little to get it to stand on the uneven ground. He took a deep breath as he looked out on the quiet water, waiting for you to start talking, maybe tell him why you had asked him to meet you here.

“It's a beautiful night tonight,” you said casually, looking at Dean, admiring his handsome features while his eyes were glued to the scenery.

“It is,” he agreed, turning to look at you. As soon as your eyes met, you averted your gaze and found something else to keep your sight on. Dean could probably count on one hand the times he had actually met your eyes, and each time you averted yours from his, he felt a little sad. Sad that you didn't have the confidence to keep eye contact with him, sad that someone had taken that away from you, and sad that he didn't get to look into those beautiful, bright eyes of yours. “How are you doing?”

“I'm okay. Work has been busy, and I really didn't feel like partying after my shift tonight,” you answered honestly, busying yourself with opening your soda. There was a small part of you that wanted to tell him what had been on your mind for the past couple of days, but you weren't sure. On one hand, Dean was kind of your doctor, but on the other hand he was also kind of your friend, and you had no clue if this was something you could share with a friend. “How about you?”

“I'm good. Work is keeping me relatively busy, and I've been helping my dad clean out his basement, so not a lot of spare time lately,” Dean said, offering you a smile. A smile you didn't see because your eyes were occupied elsewhere. “Did Alex just throw a party without asking you about it?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, like it was no big deal.

“That wasn't a very nice thing to do,” Dean stated. “Especially since he knew you had been working late.”

You looked up at Dean and scrunched your brows together, trying to understand what he was saying. “It's Alex’s house, if he wants to throw a party he can. He doesn't have to ask my permission to do so,” you explained, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Really?” Dean challenged. “If you had wanted to throw a party, could you do that without asking him first?”

“It's not my house,” you said simply.

“You've lived there for as long as he has. And you make money to help pay for it. You’re married. You have as much right to that house as he has.”

“It's still his house,” you said again. “Besides, me having a party will never be an issue.”

“And why is that?” Dean knew he was pushing you, but he hoped he would get you to see how unfair this situation was to you.

“Because I don't have any friends,” you said, opening a bag of chips. “No one would ever want to come to a party I hosted anyway.”

“What about the girls you work with?” Dean questioned.

“What about them?” you retorted, feeling a little overwhelmed by Dean's interrogation. “They are all really nice, but I see them only at work. Between daily chores and wifely duties I don't have time to socialise much.”

“Wifely duties?” Dean looked at you in disbelief. “You know there is no such thing right? A marriage is supposed to be a partnership, you’re supposed to split the ‘duties’ between you.”

“Well… he works a lot,” you defended.

“So do you.”

“Why are you pushing this, Dean?” You could feel the familiar lump forming in your throat as tears started stinging behind your eyes.

“Because I want you to understand how unfair he is to you. I need you to understand that you deserve so much more than all of this,” Dean explained calmly, he could tell you were upset with him, from the slight tremble of your lower lip. God he hated this. Hated that you didn't understand that you were worth so much more, and he hated that he now was the reason for your tears.

“You don't know, Dean.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you got to your feet. “Can you please move your car? I need to go home.” You didn't look at him as you started walking towards your car.

Dean sighed and got to his feet as well, following you to your car, wondering if there was any words he could offer you right now.

God… he was such an idiot.

“I'm sorry about what I said,” Dean started as you reached for your car door.

“Don't worry about it.” You opened the door, turning around and forcing a smile before getting in. “See you later, Dr. Winchester.” And with that you slammed the door.

Dean stood frozen in place for a couple of seconds before he could move again. You calling him Dr. Winchester was your way of distancing yourself from him, he knew this because you had done it before. His heart sank in his chest at the words, realizing that he had pushed you too far.

Dean got in his car and drove away, hitting his steering wheel in anger as soon as he was sure you couldn't see him anymore.

You parked your car in the driveway once again, but this time the house was dark, and there was no music to be heard as you stepped outside. You hoped that Alex was asleep, that he had passed out somewhere, preferably on the couch.

You peeked into the living room, empty cans, bottles and glasses littering every surface, the smell of stale alcohol invading your nose, but no sign of your husband. You made your way upstairs, hoping he was so far gone he wouldn't notice you coming in. As you approached your bedroom door, you heard some muffled sounds and an uneasy feeling settled in your stomach. You carefully pushed the door open, against your better judgement, and there it was, Alex lying on your shared bed, straddled by a blonde, making noises he had never made with you.

“What the hell?” The words just slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them, and both their heads snapped towards you. You instantly recognized the blonde as Jo Harvelle, Ellen’s daughter. They both looked horrified.

“(YN)!” Alex yelled as you turned around and ran for the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

Tears welled in your eyes, your heart pounding a million miles an hour, hands shaking, knees giving out, throat closing up.. You sank to the floor as you tried to manage the panic attack, struggling to keep your breath even. The ringing in your ears didn't quite block out the sounds of footsteps on the stairs and angry voices, even if you couldn't make out what they were saying.

A couple of moments went by before there was a knock on the door, followed by Alex saying your name.

“Not now, Alex,” you choked out.

“I'm sorry. You know I don't want to hurt you,” he said, his voice almost pleading even though he was still slurring his words from all the alcohol he had consumed.

“I know. I'm just gonna need a little time, okay?” you asked, as sweetly as you could.

“Okay,” he said, defeated.

You could hear him padding back into your room and closing the door behind him, and you let all of your quiet tears fall.

How could he do this to you? Sure he had hurt you in the past, but he always insisted that he loved you, how could he have sex with someone else if he loved you? Maybe you weren't good enough for him?

You sat on the floor for what felt like an eternity, but in reality it had just been an hour. By now, Alex would be sound asleep and there would be no waking him up until he had slept it off, something you didn't mind right now.

You tiptoed out of the bathroom and down stairs to grab your bag, hurrying back up and locking yourself in once again. There was something you had put off doing for days, but you figured now was a good as time as any. It didn't take much time to locate the test in your purse.

You took it out of the box, followed the instructions, and then sat back down on the floor and waited.

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Dean/Jensen: @boredoutofmymindstuff @koaladean @boxywrites @autopistaaningunaparte @its-not-a-tulpa @keepcalmandbeajunkie @torn-and-frayed @naadestiel @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @daughterleftbehind@bemyqueenofdarkness @melmo-omnomnom @sparklesuperwholock88 @michellethetvaddict @supernatural-jackles @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @superseejay721517 @suzannebeaketa @akshi8278 @redeyedvixen @im-a-light-child @ruprecht0420 @mayasmedberg @justanotherdeangirl @spnmariiscake @valerieshubin @briecullerorwinchester @illisea @supernatural-fan-123 @carribear31 @mariahoedt @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @sammat97 @alyssa6marie @phoenixfireburning @lessonsofred @canadianjelly @myloveforyouxx @sleepylunarwolf @captianemwinchester @illtakeawinchesteranyday

My Savior: @4401lnc @briecullerorwinchester @georgialouisea @meghan-brannon @supernatural-fangirl13 @winchester-writes @trans-siberian-marching-band @oneshoeshort @duherica @fangirlwalkingbitches @ladydw @schizonephlim @infinity-dreamchaser @dancingalone21 @kickboxingkangarootattoo @earthtokace @guineapigsandtyleroakley @mrssamfuckingwinchester @the-right-drug-wrong-time @pinkleopardss @deans--chevy--baby @thebikiniinspector

#spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #Dean x reader #SPN series #spn angst #dean winchester angst #my saviour

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