#we have to just speed through everything because its all fast talking & quips & making you think it must be clever because you're confused

[bardinthezone]

if i make it through all of moffat's run it'll be an act of god

hell if I make through all of 11's run it'll be an act of god

[blackmissfrizzle]

Wild Child

Characters: Miguel Galindo x black!reader

Summary: Miguel can’t control his free spirited wife.

Warnings: Its filthy. I tried to put some plot in it but its barely there lol.

WC: 4.1K

A/N: I hit a couple of birds with this one stone. First its a request from @darlingcherrybomb-Can I have 11 & 15 w/ Miguel Galindo plz??? thank you :) and this is also my submission for my 2K Follower Celebration and Bad Bitch Challenge. The song I’m using is Hood Rat Shit. Also shoutout to @starrynite7114​ for indulging me!

Prompts are bolded

When Miguel Galindo started dating you no one really batted an eye. They simply thought the businessman/cartel boss was going through a mid-life crisis and wanted some young pretty thing on his arm. But when he slipped that engagement ring on your finger and made an honest woman out of you, everyone had questions. You were Santo Padre’s resident wild child.

If it wasn’t the Mayans causing trouble, then it was you. Growing up the Reyes family was your next-door neighbors and that instantly made EZ and Angel your best friends. Even as a child Angel was charismatic and that easily made you look up to him. Everything he did, you tried to do. That earned you the nickname, Angelita. If you could’ve joined the club, you would’ve.

So how you ended up married to Miguel was a mystery. Sure, you cleaned up nice and despite your wild ways you had a respectable job, but you still were considered as riff raff, nothing but a damn troublemaker.

Where everyone saw a crazy party girl, Miguel saw an independent uninhibited woman. Someone unafraid to speak their mind and can hold their own in this cutthroat world. Someone who could handle all of him. Someone who humbled him and made him enjoy the simpler things in life.

Although, he loved you, you were a fucking headache. Your free spirit didn’t sit well with the confines of his lifestyle. Any chance you got you ditched the bodyguards. Upscale lounges? Nah, you loved the dive bars. There’s a Mayans party? You’re there. Dress like you’re a powerful businessman’s wife? Nope can do. You were allergic to designer and preferred jeans and leggings.  Being driven around town? No thank you, you were a speed demon. As you and your friends love to say, “You’re ain’t nothing but a hoodrat hoodrat, hoochie mama.”

Like tonight, he specifically told you he didn’t want you hanging out at the clubhouse because he heard some rumblings of trouble with another MC. But of course, you didn’t listen. It was EZ’s patch party and you were gonna celebrate with your boys.

“Run me my money, Medina!” You folded your hand in the ‘gimme’ motion.

“Aren’t you already rich?” He asked, slapping the twenties in your hand.

Angel busted out laughing and nudged Medina with his shoulder. “We told you not to play her. I told you she’s vicious. Don’t ever fall for the puppy dog eyes.”

Everyone joined in at Medina’s lost. At this point most Mayans in the Santo Padre charter and other charters knew not to play pool with you or at least not to underestimate you, so finding someone not privy to to your skills was delightful.

Throughout the night, your goal was to set EZ up with Gabby and not just for a one-night stand. He desperately needed someone else to focus on instead of Emily. Currently, you were outside at a table with your crew: Coco, Gilly, EZ, and Angel.

“Just go talk to her.” You urged your best friend.

“Yeah, for some crazy ass reason she likes you.” Angel slapped the back of his brother’s head.

Tracing your finger along his arm, you pointed out the evidence. “It’s this damn vein that always making an appearance.”

Coco sat back in amazement. “That shit really turn y’all on? Simple stuff like that? One time I had a chick obsessed with my fingers. She got turned on whenever I held a cig. I thought she was into some freaky ass shit.” The whole table erupted into laughter. For Coco to be so experienced, he was clueless.

Taking his hand in yours, you began tracing his fingers and inspecting. “Oh ok, I see you Coco Cruz. These shits are veiny, long, and thick as fuck. Yeah, homegirl was obsessed!”

“But why, chiquita?” Coco flicked you on the nose.

“Do you not finger bitches, Cruz? These are prefect candidates for fingering. Like dude, when I see, Miguel’s fingers wrapped around a glass, I get all wet and tingly inside.”

If you were paying attention, then you would’ve noticed how quiet all the guys gotten. It wasn’t until Coco slyly slipped his hand out of your grasp that you felt a presence. “He’s behind me, isn’t he?”

“Yup, Angelita!” Angel hooked his arm around your neck and ruffled your hair. A gesture that didn’t bother Miguel. He understood the familial dynamic you had with the Reyes brothers.

“Hey babe!” You smiled at him like you didn’t just disobeyed him by showing up at this party.

Miguel gave you a small smirk. It was his way of telling you he was pissed off, but he wasn’t going to show it in front of company. “Sweetheart,” he kissed you on top of your head. “I’m going to talk to Obispo and then we’re leaving.” His tone told you there was no room for arguments.

Miguel left you to go to talk to Bishop and give you some time to tell your friends goodbye. Marcus stood by you as he watched boss leave. “Angelita, do you ever stay out of trouble?” He patted your back and kissed your temple.

You held your chin as if you were in deep thought. “Mmm, nope. Its too much fun not to.”

“We should’ve nicknamed you little Diabla.” Gilly joked.

“Screw you, Gilly!”

“No, that’s your husband’s job and by the way you’ll be walking like Bambi for the next week will be proof enough.” You slapped Angel upside the head, but the only further his laughing. They all loved to tease you when you got in trouble with Miguel.

You didn’t have time to quip back, because Miguel came back done with his conversation with Bishop and from the looks of it, Bishop got some bad news. Hopefully, none of it had anything to do with you.

When you got in the car the partition was already rolled up, a big red flag that you were in trouble. “Sooooo, what did you talk to Bishop about? He looked upset.”

Miguel cut his eyes to you before he looked back out the window. “That other MC was on the way to the clubhouse to shoot up the place. I handled it when I was on the way. Just dumb luck we stumbled onto them.”

“Wowwww,” you blew a raspberry and widen your eyes as saucers. You hated when he was right, it knocked down all your objections. “Lucky that you were on the way then, huh?” You gave him a nervous smile and scratched the back of your head.

“Lucky?” He repeated the word with venom. “You could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t!”

“You disobeyed me!”

It was true, you didn’t listen, but everything worked out in the end. “I know but-”

One of Miguel’s hand grasped your throat hard enough to make breathing a little harder, but not enough to hurt you. He pressed his face against to the side of yours, harshly breathing against your ear. “No buts- you deliberately disobeyed me and if it wasn’t for me coming to get your bratty ass, you would’ve been dead!”

“Miguel, I’m sorry.”

With his other hand, Miguel shoved his hand down your pants. “Oh, you’re about to be sorry, mi vida. I’ll show you what these fingers can do.” His fingers pushed your panties to the side and explored all your wetness. “Shit! You’re loving this, you dirty little slut. I bet if I wanted to, you’d let me finger you in front of all your little Mayan friends.”

You began riding his fingers as he fucked into you. It was too much not to move. Miguel was an expert in your pleasure and knew how to set you off in minutes if that’s what he wanted, and it appeared he wanted you to suffer. “Miguel, pleaseeeeee.” You pleaded with him, grabbing onto his wrist for support.

“Hmm, please what, querida?” He licked the side of your face then pulled your earlobe in between his teeth. “Dime que quieres. (Tell me what you want.)”

“I want to cum. Please Miguel.” You pecked at his lips giving him the chance to devour your lips. “If you want to cum, you’re gonna have to do it yourself.” Miguel murmured against your lips.

Miguel kept his fingers still as you rolled your hips. It wasn’t the same as him pumping his fingers in and out, but you knew there was one way you could get him to participate once again. Keeping your eyes on Miguel, you wet your fingers and let them find your clit. Not even one rub in and Miguel had his hand around your wrist. “Who told you that you could touch what’s mine?”

You bent down and whispered by his ear. “If it was yours, I would be cumming by now.”

Miguel growled and began furiously fingering you and rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Fucking brat! I better not hear any crying from you tonight talking about its too much. You’re taking everything I’m giving you.”

He wasn’t taking it easy on you anymore. Miguel pumped into you as fast as he could while suckling kisses along your shoulder up to his neck. “Te amo, mi vida. But if you ever do something that stupid again, I won’t have any problems locking your ass up.”

Your lips met Miguel’s for a searing kiss. “I love you too, Miguel.”

Taking some of your hair, Miguel moved it to the other side and kissed your neck. “Now cum all over my fingers.”

Your body immediately responded to Miguel’s command, making you leak onto the seat. That sight almost made Miguel unhinged, but he contained himself. The things he had planned for you couldn’t be executed in the back of a car. So, he allowed you to rest until you got back home, where he could teach you a lesson or two about obedience.

--

The thing about certain lessons with you was that they weren’t long-lasting. There was something that always drew you back to your rebellious ways. Tonight, was girl’s night and you were on your way out the door when you heard Miguel’s voice. “Go change.”

You stopped in your tracks and looked back at your husband sitting with Marcus and Nestor. “Excuse me?” Nestor rubbed his hand over his face and Marcus lowly chuckled. Looks like it was about to be an interesting night in the Galindo household.

Miguel put down the report he was reading and focused his eyes on you. “I said go change, mi amor.”

You knew this was a risqué outfit, but you thought if you walked fast enough, Miguel wouldn’t notice. “What’s wrong with this?” You asked, pretending like you damn well didn’t know what was wrong.

The chair scraped against the floor as Miguel backed out of the chair. He surrounded you as a predator inspecting his prey. A lion chomping at the bits to get to his meal. “You are not wearing that out. I will rip it off you. Now go change or you won’t see your friends until the next girls’ night.” He pulled the strap of your top, letting it slap against your skin. As you turned to go up the stairs, Miguel smacked your ass for his victory. It wasn’t very often that he easily won your compliance.

When you came back down, Miguel was much more appeased with your outfit. A simple flowy black tank top replaced the corset bodysuit you had on earlier. He genuinely wished you a good time as you left. Miguel knew that with a couple of drinks in you, you would be primed for some nasty sex later. Little did he know that you had your original top in your purse and had plans to ditch the bodyguards.

A little later that night, Miguel, Nestor, and Marcus went out to a restaurant to take a break from the tedious work. Nestor excused himself from the table when he got a call from the security team. Miguel flagged the waitress down when he saw Nestor pinched the bridge of his nose. It was the same thing he did when he heard you were up to no good. “She ditched the bodyguards?”

Nestor pulled out his phone to show Miguel a video. “Yeah and is having the time of her life.” Miguel grimaced as he fixed his suit jacket. “Let’s go get my wife before I have to fill my church pew.”

—

The lounge you and your girls went to was nice at first, but after the first round of expensive watered-down drinks all of you were ready to go. Especially, since the music wasn’t danceable to. It was $2 everything at one of your old haunts, so that’s where you went. They had the best mix of current and old hits, having everyone vibing.

With all the drinks being $2 and very strong, you were easily drunk enough not to have a care in the world. Unsurprisingly though you were the most coherent (drinking with bikers would do that to you). So, you knew that you shouldn’t have gotten on top of the bar, but you couldn’t give one flying fuck. What was Miguel gonna do? Put you on his church pew? Please, one bash of these eyelashes and you’d be out of trouble.

The dj began playing a set of Megan thee Stallion and you were in your zone. You and your friends were providing entertainment as y’all screamed the lyrics out.

I want to do it ‘cause it’s fun

It’s fun to bad things

(Hood rat shit)

Drive into a car (Ahh)

Didi you know you could perhaps kill somebody?

(Mwah)

Yes, but I wanted to do hood rat stuff with my friends.

Instantly, you and your friends got into your Megan squats and twerked just like the song told y’all. Its been so long since you did it that you almost got scared that your knees would buckle.

Hood rat shit (Huh) with my hood rat friends

(Ayy)

Everywhere we go (Ayy) we be drinking Hen

(Ayy)

Shake that ass, shake that ass, bitch, bounce that shit (Ayy, yeah)

If you weren’t so caught up, you would’ve felt the air in the room change. You would’ve felt the oxygen leave the room, making it harder to breath. You would’ve stopped making random people drive the boat while they had a great view of your cleavage due to your corset bodysuit that you secretly changed back into.

It wasn’t until you felt that overwhelming presence that you noticed your husband next to you. He rested his elbow on the bar and held his chin in his hand smiling up at you. “Oh, hi honey. Funny seeing you here.” You greeted him. Miguel couldn’t reach your hand, so he started rubbing on your ankle. “No, its funny seeing you here in that,” he nodded at your corset. “What happened to your other shirt?” There was no good answer, so instead you bent down and rapped the lyrics to Miguel, playfully having your fingers in his face.

You ain’t from my hood (Huh)

What you doing round here? (Hey)

Asking all them questions (Huh)

You must be the Feds (Ayy)

Better get from round here

Before you wind up dead (Yeah)

The corner of Miguel’s mouth quirked up as he patiently waited for the song to be over. Despite how mad he was, he enjoyed seeing you have fun with just the simple things. And it wasn’t from youthfulness, but from a good heart. That’s what made him love you. The only things you needed was your friends, family, and good times, and you reminded him that was important.  

“Terminada?”

“Yup,” you took his offered hand and jumped down from the bar. He draped your leather jacket over your shoulders and zipped it up. “Really?” Your eyes dipped down to your chest. Miguel cupped your cheek before he kissed it. “Yes, really. Now let’s leave before I have to shoot someone for ogling you too long.” Quickly, you exited the bar. There was no need for anyone to die because of you.

On the way back to your house, Miguel didn’t reveal how pissed he was. He just kept a possessive hand on your denim clad thigh and discussed his plans for the week. He didn’t go into gory detail, but just enough to prepare you for how busy he would be. That was practically a warning. With him being pissed about your activities tonight and pair that with his busy schedule, let’s just say your glad you’ve been focused on your flexibility and stamina.

Finally, at home, the both of you told Nestor and Marcus good night. You headed for your room, but Miguel gripped the back of your neck tightly and steered you to the playroom down the hall. Miguel specifically used this room when he planned to fuck you for hours. Dear lord, this was gonna be a long night.

You knew better than to speak as he sets up the room. Standing stark still you watched as he lit candles, turned on the fairy lights, and set the LED lights a mix of blue and purple. Miguel loved how the blue hue reflected off your brown skin. It highlighted every single thing he loved about you.

When he was finished setting the ambiance, Miguel circled around you until he was standing directly behind you. He said nothing as his hands went to the button of your jeans. His warm breath caressed your neck like a hug, his hands setting fire to your skin as he pulled down your jeans.

A yelp escaped your lips when you felt Miguel’s teeth scrape against your ass. Done with what you were for sure knew were gonna leave marks, Miguel ran his nose along your ass until he reached the crook of your neck. He dug his fingers into your ass while his teeth dug into your shoulder. The pain was welcoming, making you quiver all over.

“Hands behind your back.” Miguel ordered. Soon, you felt the cuffs around your wrists and then the sensation was felt around your ankles as well. “Stay here.” He whispered against your ear.

You watched Miguel swagger to what you called the ‘sex couch’, it was curved to accommodate your bodies, specifically for adult activities. He sat down, legs all wide and inviting while he loosened his collar. Crooking his fingers, he told you to come here.

The heels you were wearing made you the perfect height that Miguel’s face was directly at your navel. He pressed a light kiss there, then he reached up to your shoulders to push you down on your knees.

Unzipping his pants, he pulled out his cock and you were instantly hypnotized. Honestly, Miguel should just whip it out all the time when he wants you to do something. You’ll listen to him…momentarily.

“Aren’t you gonna take off your clothes?” You inquired.

Miguel wrapped his hand around your hair. “No, at least one of us needs to know how to dress. Now, suck my dick. It ain’t gonna suck itself.” Out of nowhere, he pulled out a cigar, lit it and began smoking it, his way of dismissing you.

There was no way you were gonna tease him. From the tension in his body you knew he would snap at any moment. Your mouth engulfed his length, only getting a couple of bobs in until Miguel roughly pushed your head into his crotch and pummeling your mouth with his cock. All of him took up the room in your throat, but it didn’t bother you. You loved that it was you making those moans come out of Miguel’s mouth.

He granted you a little reprieve and let you up for some air. He took one more puff of his cigar before putting it out. His hands went to your corset to pull your breasts out and for a moment he fondles them with interest until he slapped them and twisted the nipples. “Dressed like a fucking whore! Letting everyone see your tits. I should’ve fucked you right on that bar. No one would’ve stopped me.” Miguel’s hand was now around your throat and he pulled you towards his face. “Would you have let me fucked you there? Hmm, be my little whore?”

“Yes daddy! Whatever you want to do to me, you can.”

His other hand found your hair again. “Huh, you’re giving me permission? I know I can do whatever the fuck I want to you because you’re mines. The only one who seems not know this is you. Can’t follow simple fucking instructions. Is it that hard to listen to me?”

“No.”

“Then why don’t you listen?”

The brat in you just had to jump out, you smiled up at him like a madwoman before responding. “Because it’s fun and I enjoy doing hood rat shit.”

Miguel finally snapped. With unknown strength he ripped your bodysuit off your body and threw you onto your stomach on the couch, securing your ankle cuffs to the locks on the couch. Miguel didn’t bother to take off his clothes, you could feel the fabric of his Armani slacks as he pushed into you.

Even though it was about Miguel’s pleasure, it was about yours as well. Every one of his thrust got you closer to your end, but you wanted more. You wanted to touch your husband, you wanted your lips to leave the same marks he was leaving, you wanted to look him in the eye as he called you a slut, whore, and everything in between. “Daddy turn me around. I want to look at you.” You pleaded.

Miguel hips stuttered a bit, he couldn’t believe what his ears just heard. Leaning forward, his clothed chest was against your naked back. “Did you just give me an order? You think you can just get what you want?”

He couldn’t see your doe eyes, but he could hear the sickeningly sweet babied tone you use on him whenever you want something. “Yes, because I’m your baby girl.”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby girl.” Miguel flipped you over, his hand flew to your throat as he thrusted into you. He loved how you tightened around him when his hand found its permeant place on your neck. “So, fucking responsive to me. Tell me how much you love this cock.”

“I love it so much, daddy. I wish you could be in me every minute of the day” you gasped in between thrusts.

Miguel hovered over you and smoothed your hair. “How sweet, kitten.” He mocked you, then spat in your mouth and smeared it over your face, before shoving four of his fingers in your mouth. He chuckled at how your eyes widen. “What? I thought you wanted to look at me?”

You tried to say something, but your words were muffled by his fingers. “Hmm, what was that whore?” Miguel took his fingers out so he could hear you clearly. “Can I cum, daddy? Pretty please.”

Miguel couldn’t deny you anymore. “Since you asked so nicely, you can.” His thumb reached for you clit and rubbed on it until your legs were shaking and your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, but Miguel wanted your eyes on him. He grabbed the back of your neck and rested your forehead on his. “Look at me when you cum!” Once your eyes connected, Miguel reached his own orgasm and coated your walls with white hot cum.

In an instant, Miguel released the cuffs and carried you to the bed while giving you reassuring kisses and declarations of love. Despite your protests, he left to go get the both of you some water and towels to clean up. While he was gone you reached out for your phone that Miguel conveniently placed for you.

You: Sorry, guys I won’t be able to make it to our ride tomorrow. Raincheck?

Angel: I told y’all! I knew Galindo was gonna fuck her up for that outfit.

Coco: Damn! He broke you off that bad?

You: No, he broke me off that good!

Gilly: EARMUFFS!

You: Blame Dumbass #1 and Dumbass #2. Now am I gonna get a raincheck?

EZ: Yes, you will, Angelita. GN.

Knowing that the guys weren’t going to be mad at the fact that you weren’t going tomorrow, you silenced your phone, ignoring whatever argument they would no doubt get into. Instead you waited for your husband to return to continue breaking you off for the rest of the night.

Tagging: @starrynite7114​ @marvelmaree​ @thickemadame​ @woahitslucyylu​ @ifoundmyhappythought​ @chaneajoyyy​ @angrythingstarlight​ @sadeyesgf​ @teakturn​ @dearsamcrobae​ @strawberrywritings​

[damn-stark]

Lightning pt.3

Thor Odinson x Odinsdottir!reader, Loki Laufeyson x Odinsdottir!reader

Summary: After the death of your brother Loki, and Frigga, things in Asgard change drastically, just like your father. Where he was cold and distant before, now he’s caring and attentive. And you didn’t mind his change, in fact you loved that he had this new time for you, yet when you find out the truth behind his actions, how will you react?

Warning- Fluff, violence, angst

———-

Bright colors flew past you as you were suddenly traveling through the rainbow bridge up to Asgard, traveling at a speed that you were used to and could handle, but one that was overwhelming at the moment because of the fact that you were being chased by some new and psychotic older sister.

You had the instinct to throw her off course. But when you looked down, as you were going to attempt hitting her, you noticed your older brothers were in the way and you couldn’t hit her without accidentally hurting them.

Yet you had to try something, she was catching up too fast—“Loki!”

At your warning said man looks down at the threat below him and tries to throw her a dagger through the whirlwind of colors surrounding all you, but as he did, she swiftly caught his dagger and threw it back at him, throwing him off course with one hit and causing you to yell out for him, “Loki! No!”

You watch as Hela catches up to Thor and begins to fist fight with him, creating a sword to hurt him, but before she could, using the rage building up within you after she hurt Loki, you create a lightning bolt and throw it at her and manage to hit her arm. Thor finds a chance to get out of her grip and pushes her off him, but in doing so he pushes himself off the course and disappears just like Loki had. Leaving you to deal with Hela as she was trying to catch up to you too.

“You know I’ve always wanted a sister!” She exclaims through the rainbow bridge. “I’m happy to know that I have one now! Kneel and I'll spare you!”

You scoff and offer her a smug smirk, “you know I’ve also always wanted a sister! Give up on your foolish dreams and let’s go be what our father could never give us! A family!”

Hela rolls her eyes and creates a sword to attempt to hurl it at you, but as she tries, you also create a lightning bolt and throw it at her at the same time. Causing both objects to crash into each other and create a big explosion that throws you forward and back home, while she gets thrown back, giving you some time before she came to do something.

“Princess! What’s going on, where are your brothers?!”

You look back to Thor’s warrior friends and give them the answer they seeked with a shake of your head. You stretch your hands out and create more lightning bolts in both hands whilst you try to shout back at Volstagg. “Close it! Close it.”

The man doesn’t question you and before he could, he was too late and Helas figure had already taken shape at the entrance, she once again tried to throw a sword at you, but as it flew towards you, you caught the movement and moved at the speed of light. In doing so, slowing down everything around you.

Small sparks flashed around you and you had the chance to look at your surroundings much clearer, you had the chance to go towards the sword and clutch it in your own hand as an idea sparked in your head. Instead of throwing the sword at her, you threw it to the side and sprinted towards her to tackle her out of the bridge without caring that you would also fall out as it was closing.

However as you moved and were about to wrap your arms around her, you caught her eyes following you, somehow moving at your speed and creating a black dagger that she punctures through your chest, moving quickly and throwing you back to knock you out of your moment and forcing you back to normal speed—“shit,” you hiss.

You clutch onto your aching wound and wince, you try to refocus on your surroundings, on the fight going on in the same room, but your injury left you dazed and slow. You heard your blood pounding in your ears and saw your eyesight blur. The thought of giving up and staying on the ground sounded easy, it sounded like a pleasant dream, but the fighter within you didn’t allow you to just stay on the ground. You had to get up and fight back; for your planet, for your family and for your people.

So you roll onto your stomach and groan out loudly from the pain. You slowly push yourself up, but as you do, you feel someone else’s familiar presence in your head. Heimdall.

“You’ll die if you try to fight her. Your people appreciate your fighting efforts, Princess, but you’ll do them a better service if you escape now.”

You part your lips to rebuttal, but he cuts you off before you can.

“Don’t speak, you’ll give yourself away. Come find me and I’ll help you.”

An image flashes before you as if you were seeing the forest yourself and you knew that was your answer. So with what little strength you have left, you finally stand to your feet and speed away. Finding Heimdall exactly where he had shown you he’d be.

“Heimdall,” you groan, “I’m sorry, I'm sorry I didn’t do anything to stop him from kicking you out.”

Heimdall grabs your shoulder and assures you, “it’s not your fault, you were tricked by Loki, just like we all were.” He begins to walk you to sit on a large rock and has someone bring first aid. “Now let’s patch you up, you have to help your brothers return home.”

Your eyes brighten up and a hopeful smile tugs on your features. “They’re alive?”

“Yes and they need your help.” He informs, “you need to come back and fight your sister together.”

——

“He’s off again,” you mumble as you watch your father walk Thor off. “And he’s going to return in a couple days, but father acts as if he’s leaving for years on end. It’s my birthday and he’s gone all day without saying a word.”

Loki finally stands at your side and looks down at what you were watching and lets out a sigh before he tries his best to assure you. “Thor remembered, so did Frigga.”

“Not father.” You point out as you push yourself off the railing and begin to walk off. “Not like it’s a surprise.” You see Loki follow you at your side and he watches you carefully as you try to maintain unbothered. You walk to the throne room and look up to the portrait on the ceiling. “At least we’re up there right.”

“You know I can start teaching you some magic, or we can do something you like,” Loki suggests, “for your birthday or what not.”

You drop your head and look at him and shoot him a sweet smile. “I thought you said I couldn’t do magic.”

Loki shrugs, “maybe I was wrong and well it’s something to prove to father.”

“Okay,” you grin, “Sounds good.”

——

As you land in this unknown, ugly, trash planet, you begin to maneuver through the celebrating crowd and look for Thor.

Heimdall said he was here and you trusted him. Yet was it worth your energy coming to this weird planet.

….yes.

Nevertheless you avoid being pulled to where the crowd was going, and ignore the green monster they were all celebrating. You keep your eyes out for Loki, but he, like Thor, isn't around. No one let you talk to even try to ask for your brothers, and your wound was hurting making everything much harder and everyone much more annoying.

And it wasn’t until around twenty minutes later, did you finally accidentally bump into the person you were looking for. Even if at first you didn’t recognize him. “Sorry.”

“Y/N?”

You stop and look back to see your brother walking your way with something covering his head. “Y/N, is that you?”

“Yes,” you mutter as you curiously study his face, “is that really you?”

“Yes! Did you not recognize me because of my disguise?”

You scoff and shake your head, “no, your disguise sucks. It’s your hair, what happened to your hair?”

“Some old man cut it off.” He explains still leaving you confused. “Come on let’s talk later, right now I’m looking for a friend.”

“A friend?” You question whilst you begin to follow at his side and continue maneuvering through the crowd. “Where’s Loki?”

“He’s—” Thor cuts himself off as his attention seems to get stolen by someone. He quickly grabs your wrist and pulls you with him until you stop in front of a huge beast. Yet before either of you could fight it something flies on its neck and electrifies it. When it falls down there's a single woman standing there that your brother greets. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she greets bluntly.

“I was gonna do that.” Thor adds.

“Yeah well I did it first.” She quips.

Whilst they have their little conversation you look at the man behind you over your shoulder, he meets your gaze and tilts his head while his eyes search your face as if trying to piece you together and find a name to a face. When you look away you try to figure out who he was and if he was the friend Thor was looking for, or if it was the beautiful woman before you. But basing off the fact that Thor had protected this little man, you had to come to the conclusion that it was him.

Nonetheless you followed Thor and his new friends, but not without questioning him about them. “Thor, who are they? Are these the friends you were looking for?”

Thor points to the man behind you and adds, “yeah him. That’s a friend from earth.”

“One of the avengers?” You question excitedly. “Is that, Iron Man?”

“No, it’s Bruce Banner!”

You blink and look over your shoulder for a brief second, “oh.”

“Who is that?” Bruce asks, pointing at you.

“My sister!” Thor shouts over the crowd.

“The evil one?”

“No!” Thor scoffs, “my little sister. Y/N.”

You clutch onto your wound and groan softly, Thor doesn’t notice, and you don’t want him to just yet. Before he could even do so, or question anything else about you, you ask about the woman walking ahead. “Who is that?”

Thor leans towards you and talks in a loud whisper, “that’s a Valkyrie.”

“Really?!” You exclaim as you look over at her wide eyed. “That’s so cool! I never thought I’d seen one anymore.”

Ever since you were a child, you’ve heard great stories of the fearless warriors that were the Valkyrie, you’ve always admired them and always wished to become one. That was until you found out that they had all died. That was a bit disappointing.

“What are those things on her eyes?” You hear Bruce ask Thor. “Are those people that she's killed? She’s so beautiful and strong and courageous.”

“Who is this guy?” She finally turns and asks once you were in another dirty building. “I feel like I know you.”

“I feel like I know you too,” he points out while you all continue to follow her. Stopping a couple minutes in as she turns to face your brother.

“Look, I’ve spent years in a haze, trying to forget my past. Sakaar seemed like the best place to drink and forget, and to die one day.”

“I was thinking that you drink too much and that probably was gonna kill you.” Thor interjects after her.

“I don’t plan to stop drinking.

“Oh.”

“But I don’t wanna forget, I can’t turn away anymore, so if I’m gonna die, well, it may as well be my sword through that murderous hag.” She finishes confidently, making you smile proudly and in admiration.

“Good,” Thor nods.

“So, I’m saying that I wanna be on the team. Has it got a name?” The Valkyrie queries.

“Yeah, it’s called the Revengers.”

You pinch your eyebrows together and you tilt your head to question the name. “Revengers?”

The Valkyrie and you share a look to question the same thing before paying attention to Thor’s explanation.“Because I’m getting revenge,” Thor explains to the group, “you’re getting revenge,” he directs to the Valkyrie. “Do you want revenge?” He turns to Bruce.

“I’m undecided,” He stammers out, letting Thor finally turn to you.

“You want revenge too?”

You discreetly grab onto your wound and nod with a smile on your face. “Of course!”

“Also,” The Valkyrie adds, “I've got a peace offering.” She proceeds to walk to a room, opening a door and revealing that splendid surprise; your older brother Loki.

“Surprise.”

[myfeetkeepdancing]

A Devil’s Toy  |  Arvin Russell x Male!Reader

Request: Crossover where Arvin gets connected with the symbiote? Because Spidey!Arvin seems silly and unfitting but Venom!Arvin is kind of 😳😳😳

Words: 3694

-----

The town you lived in was always quiet. The birds chirped happily in the tree, nature at it's best. Cars approaching from the forest road were easily heard from miles away. Sorting the groceries you just brought home, a distant sound shakes you from your thought. Fast-paced footsteps approach your house from the treeline. They certainly were running. Before you were able to shove the curtain aside, you hear a voice call out your name. Repeatedly.

"Arvin?" You speed to the door, opening it for him. "What happened?" Eyeing the dirty cloth wrapped around his lower right arm. As you looked closer, it covered most of his lower arm. You couldn't see his hand nor wrist. His eyes were narrow, heaving for air, as he clutched his other hand tightly on the cloth. This wasn't the first time Arvin came in like this. In all those years you'd known him, he got in a lot of fights, with the necessary injuries. He won most of them, but some… He knew he was outmatched, yet it is as if he didn't care. As if the greater the challenge, the bigger the appeal.

"G-Get… me… a... k-...k-knife." He stuttered through the heaving breaths, unwrapping the cloth from his arm. You seat him down at the kitchen table and quickly bring him a large knife. For what was the question right now, but you never questioned Arvin. And if you did, most of the time, he didn't answer. At first, you didn't notice any blood as the cloth opened up. His denim jacket still in good shape. You notice how nervous and anxious he is. Eyeing his surroundings constantly. Trust was something Arvin didn't have. At least in most people. You always managed with him. But something was off about Arvin. He kept everything in check. As if he was expecting something or someone.

"Help me (Y/N)-..." He snarled while ripping the last the piece of cloth from his hand. "-get this off me." Struck by fear, revolt, and sheer terror, you jolt back a few steps. Covering your mouth with one hand.

"W-Wha… What is that?!" Arvin's hand was completely black, not from sickness. As far as you knew from a first glance. Because it moved. Your bowels churned in revolt. Feeling your earlier snack rise in distaste. The tar-like ooze moved and pulsated around his hand and lower arm.

"I DON'T KNOW!" He screamed, grabbing the knife. "I don't know! Just get it off me!" Trying to scrape it off with the sharp end. He shook all over, struggling to place the blade against the moving substance. From both angles, it was impossible to decide if he was going to strike the goo or his own skin. His hesitation held the blade at bay. "Goddammit! Help me (Y/N)!" He angrily shot at you.

"C-Can you move your hand?"

"Eh… Yes... "He said, seeing them move shakingly. "I can feel it..."

"Alright… Alright…." Grabbing his coat. "Take it off." You command, pulling him onto his feet. "We have to know how far it's-…"

"(Y/N)?" He asked with widening eyes. Seeing the fear struck in your eyes. "What's-…"

Step by step, you back up from Arvin. Feeling the trembles take over your body as the level of eye contact with him slowly rises. This had to be a nightmare. What Arvin's legs once were, wrapped in jeans, were now encased in the same black ooze from earlier. Forming a new pair of legs for him. And rapidly consuming the rest of his frame. The stuff that ate away at Arvin had towered over you faster than you could believe. Slowly stepping your way. Only Arvin's face now left. You wanted to scream out your lungs, call for Arvin. Wanted to help him. But all sense had left you. Terror had overcome you. Especially when you saw the rows of gigantuous, white razor-sharp teeth erupt out from the black being's skin. Engulfing Arvin's face from its forehead and chin. In a matter of seconds, Arvin had disappeared completely. Taken by the black pulsating goo that stood before you. A pair of white oval eyes stared at you as the jawline with long teeth stretched into what could be described as a smile.

With your back against the wall, the only response you could muster was throwing the closest thing beside you at it. A cup. It did nothing. The black mass towered over you as your legs buckled and crashed to the floor. "A-A...A-...Arvin...??"

"Well hello…" The creature spoke with a haunting voice. "Arvin is currently occupied... elsewhere." Chuckling to himself. As its jaws opened, your nightmare was complete. A red, ribbed, slimy tentacle of a tongue stretched outwards. Licking its so-called teeth. "He'll be fine, though." Approaching you, as you tried to crawl away. "I promise." It smiled; the drips of slime dangled from its teeth. "For now, I am hungry..."

"P-P-Please… I…" You pleaded, covering your eyes with your arms. Shielding you from the horror that was in front of you. The tears finally showing. Its arms were massive, bulking masses of muscles. It claws with sharp talons close to striking distance.

"Ooooow." It arched back up. "I see... "Nodding in sudden amusement at your shuddering frame, held in a fetus position. "Now, I get it." It chuckled. "I get it." Looking around the room. "I can't touch your lover." You notice the innards of the black ooze struggle and fight.

"A-Arvin's still in there…?"

"Oh, Yes." It said before the black ooze curled back from Arvin's face. Revealing him alive, and surprisingly well.

"I'm sorry (Y/N)!" He said. "There was this truck-" And as Arvin was telling his story, you notice the body language of the thing. Mimicking Arvin's way of speaking. As if Arvin was controlling the black ooze. But somehow was also… alive? Sentient? The story was impossible to follow as you watch the movements, streamlined with Arvin's. This was impossible. But you were glad Arvin was alive.

"Wh-... What was that about-... about...?" You shook your head, conflicted by so many things. "I have so many questions."

There was little time for Arvin to react as the ooze slipped back over his face. He protested; you could see the struggle. But somehow, the ooze retook control. "Sorry lovey-doveys… But it's time. Allow me to introduce myself." Bowing before you. "I'm Venom, and Arvin here-..." Tapping its belly. "-...is my new host." Laughing amusingly. "Together, we're going to have so much fun."

It's pale white eyes stared at you, as if it was expecting something from you. "And you are?" It asked. "It's customary to introduce yourself to newcomers."

"(Y/N)." You said in a shaken voice. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Well, I already knew that." It looked back up again. "I played along, out of kindness." Giving you a nod and a smile. Before turning its attention back to its surroundings. "Anyway. I hear them." It stopped, eyeing the direction the sound came from. It doesn't take much for your trained ears to hear the footsteps in the distance. The rushed, fast-paced ones. Cracking leaves and branches as they approached. Some walked with a determined stride. But they were with many.

"I thought it was you at first." It quipped back, showing you a sort of smile. "But I was wrong. Sorry!" The smile was highly uncomfortable to watch, the rows of teeth showing high and wide. The stench was something that came second. But not any better.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about." Keeping your eyes on the lumbering figure standing in the room. It somehow had a muscular physique to it, despite the otherwordly colors. Black and rippled with some sort of veins protruding from its so-called skin. It's highly disturbing to look at.

"Little Arvin and I will explain later." Moving its arm towards you. Every movement made you jump. Especially this, seeing its talons close in. "Don't worry." It smiled, seeing you repulse from fear, with your back against the wall. "I won't hurt you." It said, but its tone was more taunting than comfortable at this point.

"Take this." Opening his black oozing hand to you. The skin bubbled and moved as something began to emerge. From the torso, something slid underneath the skin towards the hand. The happening alone made you sick. "Arvin won't need it." Revealing the gun, you knew Arvin carried with him from time to time. "He has a better weapon now." He grinned, tossing it in your lap as it looked for the newcomers.

"W-Wh… What do I do?" You've had practice with a gun. That was a fact. Arvin had shown you, taught you. But at this point. You were completely blank—pulling at the magazine. Trying to get the damn mechanism to work. But your shaking hands struggle to make anything work right now.

 "You phew phew that thingie-... "Pointing at the gun with its talons. "-at any one of those outside." It said while watching you struggle. "Plenty of targets."

 "I… I… don't…" You stammer, dropping it to the floor. "Fuck…!" Cursing more under your breath while you clammy hands struggle to pick it up.

You recoil back against the wall, not that you could go further. The oozes torso ripple and move as you saw Arvin reach out. His entire upper torso revealing from the black ooze. "Come 'ere." He said while handling the gun. Cocking and reloading it. It surprised you to see Arvin this relaxed. Normally his anger would have surfaced and lost control over the situation. But now, he seemed convinced about what was about to happen.

You jump scare a little as a magazine for the gun popped into your lap. "Found this in his back pocket." Venom said as the hole in his shoulder closed.

He took your one hand, his grip firm and reassuring, warm to the touch, to the point of bolstering your confidence. For a moment, you're lost in each other eyes, feeling a sense of humanity return. Bringing you back as he helped to put your fingers on the gun. Closing your second hand around the other. "Use it if you have to." He said. "Stay safe."

"Arvin… How do we know if they're-" Your voice was cut off. The air knocked from your lungs. As the world around you was reduced to splinters, smoke, and glass. Eardeafening explosions shook you to the very bone. It all happened so fast. In that split second, the door at the other end of the room was reduced to mere splinters. Chunks of wood scattered across the floor and dug itself into softer material than itself. A loud ring sounded in your ears as you lost your bearings completely. Your vision had doubled, twice, or thrice—more than enough to see Venom move away from you. Through the whirling dust and flying wood splinters, you see it darting across the floor. The room wasn't that big, but in an instance, it sat upon the figure standing in the doorframe. Its scream didn't reach your ear because it didn't have time to. You shouldn't have blinked, but your ramshackle mind had too. Before you had any further chance to see what was happening. The figure had disappeared. Leaving Venom standing there, licking its teeth with that weird-looking tongue.

You jolt back into life as you feel the air coming back into your lungs. Coughing the dust and dirt up from your windpipe, it had forced itself in. A shock racked your frame as an object hit your foot. "Keep that safe." Venom's voice called out, noticing the large shotgun in front of you. Before you looked up and responded to him. Venom was already gone. Luckily your vision had begun to come back. To your shock, around you was a circle of splinters and fragments of other metal embedded deep into the wall. Struck by panic again, you check yourself. Hands, legs, arms. A relieved smile cracked your lips. You weren't hurt. Venom and Arvin had most certainly protected you from the blast. Seeing the damage all around you. It was one mass of destruction. With your courage gathered, and like any natural instinct kicking in, you try to get up on your legs. Water. You needed water. And eye the sink.

Shards of glass shatter across the counter as you duck back to the floor. You try to stay low, hunched as the sound of gunshots increased. The automatic fire increased as voices called out. Unfamiliar and loud. Commands were given. Screaming, yelling. They must have seen you as the bullets tore through the windows. The impact clearly seen on the walls. Ripping and tearing through every inch of the house. You duck lower to the ground. Terrified to the bone. Frames falling from the wall, and shelves coming loose. Everything went flying as the bullets tore it all apart. You didn't dare to look up. Broken glass and furniture flew through the air. Nothing was safe. Feeling the chances of survival slim by every passing moment.

Outside was this constant carnage, ripped screams. Trees being felled and branches snapping like twigs in a storm. It was a warzone outside. You could hear it, feel it—the tearing of limbs and flesh. The cries of the injured were short-lived. If there were any at all. With the sense of time and place lost in the heat of battle. The sound of battle and slowly began dying down. Less and less guns were being fired. Arvin better returns in one piece; you prayed to the Lord. In a moment like this, faith was a scapegoat option. Because you felt helpless and prayed for a good outcome.

The sound of someone approaching across the porch nailed you to the floor. Once the bullets had started tearing through the walls, surely targeting you, you had fallen to the floor. Flat on your stomach in the dirt and debris. Praying for your life. And now you lay there, with the gun in reach of you. You frantically crawl towards it, realizing too late that you were trudging through the glass splinters. But the adrenaline kept you going. Your fingers shuddered across the cold metal of the gun. Struggling to get a grip on it again.

As the heavy treads of boots stamped across the porch towards the already blasted open door. The voice of a man, different than Arvin's. Talking to someone. Tears had already flooded your vision as you brought the iron sights up along your eyesight. Clouding your vision. The gun shook terribly in your hand, as you crawled back up against the wall where you sat earlier. Countless holes had penetrated through the wall, now shafts of light shining through. It's mystical to see the dust flying around in the sudden silence. Only focused on the impending footsteps.

You squinted your eyes, trying to avoid the look on the person's face once you had pulled the trigger. You knew the mechanism; it was rough. Requiring a strong pull on the trigger to fire. "ARVIN!" You screamed from the top of your lungs. Crying out for help. "VENOM!" Tears rolled down your cheeks as your gaze swept to the other end size. The backdoor flew open with force.

"Son of a bitch is here!" Another voice called from the back. Taking steps into the house. Hearing the floor creak under the weight. You swing the gun back and forth. Not sure who was going to show up first. Either way, they were closing in on you. You knew the layout better than the intruders. You knew where the backdoor was, and how he had to walk down the hallway into the kitchen. You swing back to the front door. The one in the back had to be a few footsteps away from you.

The flash blinded you for a moment, rocking your entire frame as the gun fired its bullet down the barrel. Smashing through the wooden wall into the hallway. Splintering chunks of wood across the floor and into the hallway. A hushed curse came from the hallway. Your eyes catch movement at the front door. Everything went so fast. The man appeared in the doorway, almost in a veil-like light, holding a rifle. When a tentacle of blackness shot up into its side. Gurgled screams shot up from its shuddering frame. His arms go limb as the rifle hits the floor, and disappears as fast as he appeared. Not a scream, nothing. Just gone. A glimpse of white eyes and teeth are more than enough to reassure Venom and Arvin were there. A relief. Seeing the black mass surge past the doorframe off the hallway. A short burst of automatic fire forced you back into that scared fetal position as it connected with all sorts of pottery in the kitchen beside you. Piercing through the wall, shattering plates, pans, and cups. But silenced with a gurgle of blood and air, followed by a hard thud on the floor. The only thing you could hear was your own ragged breath and spend cartridges rolling on the floor.

 "(Y/N)?" Arvin sped around the corner, seeing the last of Venom's skin disappear behind him. "You alright?" You nodded as you caught your breath, slowly sitting yourself back up again. Arvin didn't need an answer. He saw the small cuts and splinters in your forearm. He looked around through the destruction, searching that familiar cabinet that now had fallen to the floor. Kicking the broken pieces away with his feet. Fishing the first aid out. By now, he knew quite well where to find it. Approaching you with a caring look on his face, yet also a smile. A rare smile for Arvin. "You look like shit." He said, looking down at you with that same taunting smile.

"T-That's..." You laughed but was interrupted by a rough coughing fit. "T-That's my line."

 "Not today." Handing you a bottle of liquor, he found lying on the floor, surprising intact. "Just like old times. But this time…" He kneeled in front of you, brushing the dust from your lips with his other hand. "I'll help you." Cupping your cheeks in his hands. Your heart already raced from earlier. But in that split second, it skipped several. So it was true what Venom said; that was the last thing that crossed your mind. Before his lips connected with yours. Kissing you with great care and precision. The world had already fallen silent, but now there was nothing more but you and Arvin. "Thank you." You mumbled into the slowly sloppier kiss.

"No problem." Venom responded in his dark voice before Arvin could. The silence was broken by the two of you chuckling softly in each others' embrace. It was true. Venom had done so much for the two of you. He was the reason you both were alive. And together. Finally.

"You still have a lot to learn, Arvin." You groan, locking your jaw as you observe him struggle with the pincers. Trying to remove the last shards and splinters of glass and wood from your arm.

"Sit still." He leaned upwards, giving you a kiss. "I need to concentrate." Ticking the bottle with his pincers, as a sign of telling you to drink.

"How can I... when you kiss me like that." Arvin's proud glance at you said more than enough. With his other hand, he guided the bottle upwards to your lip. He knew how much pain you were having. The adrenaline had worn off quicker than you expected. Arvin knew that all too well. "The preacher won't approve of us." You sighed, rolling your head back against the wall. The liquor slowly numbing your senses.

 "And he ain't a good one, you know that." Arvin hissed. The rest of his muttering was impossible to hear. And it might be for the better. From day one, Arvin didn't have a good hunch about that preacher. But he was shut up by his sister. She believed in him, like so many others.

"Ow, I want to pay him a visit." Venom said, emerging on a string of gooiness beside Arvin's head. "Let's have some fun with him." He smiled viciously. "I can read your mind, Arvin. You hate him. All the more reason to."

"Won't hurt to teach him a lesson…?" Arvin looked at you for approval. As if he needed that from you. You and Arvin were on the same level on so many things. The preacher was one of them. You also didn't go to church for the longest time. To the disapproval of many in the town. But it made the Sunday morning one hell of a good morning. Arvin stopped going too and came around your place at that every Sunday morning.

"You know how I think about him." You grinned. "But what about all this?" Eyeing the interior of your house. "It's ruined." The destruction all around was immense. Bullets had torn everything apart. The table and chairs, reduced to chunks of wood. Large shotgun shells had blasted holes through the walls and wreaked havoc on the interior. It's a wonder the walls were still standing. "I can't live here anymore…"

"I don't know…" Arvin looked around, raking his fingers through his brown curls, lost in his thoughts.

"And how about all those bodies?" The thought had just crossed your mind. You hadn't seen one, but there had to be at least ten of them scattered around your house and littering the forest.

"I'm still hungry…" Venom said, showing its row of teeth, smiling very broadly.

"He ate most of them…" Arvin said, as if that was giving any comfort.

"And then...Arvin? What's next?"

Arvin's gaze was locked elsewhere, thoughts far beyond the room, but said nothing. He hunched on his knees, turned around, and sat himself down beside you. "I don't know…" He sighed, resting his head against the wall. "But we'll figure something out." Putting his arm around you. Resting your head against one another, watching the dust dance in the air through the beams of sunlight, shining through the bullets holes. "Together."

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 13: On Your Left

Summary: Steve and Katie meet a new friend whilst out jogging, and Steve is sent on a mission to rescue a ship- the Lemurian Star…but it fast becomes apparent that not everyone on his team is pulling in the same direction.

Paring: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Smut (NSFW, 18+)

A/N: We jump forward a couple of months here and slip straight into the Winter Soldier storyline. Credit to @angrybirdcr​ for another lovely edit, and this re-post contains additional materiel- I’ve written the mission out instead of merely skipping over it.

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

Chapter 12 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 End of March/Beginning of April 2014

“Turn it off,” Katie’s voice was muffled from the pillow she had buried her face into as the alarm rang around the dark bedroom. Steve moved slightly to turn it off, but he wasn’t fast enough for his Girlfriend’s liking. “Steve!”

With a huff he leaned over and slapped the offending item with his palm, hitting the snooze button.

“Why is it even set?” She grumbled “It’s not like you don’t normally wake up at the crack of dawn anyway…and who uses an alarm clock when they have a phone?”

“You know, no one makes you stay here.” Steve teased, with a chuckle moving so that his front was pressed to her back.

“You’ve been away for five days, I never sleep as well when you’re not here.” She mimicked his line from the night before in a baby voice.

“And that’s why the alarm is set, because I do sleep better with you.” His arms circled her waist and he grinned to himself as despite the fact she was grumpy and tired she melted into his arms as he nuzzled at her neck, revelling in her smell, her warmth.

“Jerk.” She grumbled. “I mean what time is it anyway?” There was a pause as he continued to simply breathe her in and she glanced at her phone giving a scoff as she saw the ridiculous time on the screen “5:30? In the morning. Five. Thirty…”

“You said you wanted to go running.” He murmured, his eyes still closed.

“No, you said you were going running and I said I might tag along because I’ve eaten nothing but shit whilst I’ve been in New York, which, by the way is your fault…”

“My fault?” Steve laughed, cracking an eye open “I wasn’t even there.”

“Exactly” she muttered “No one to stop me.” “I wouldn’t stop you anyway. You’re a big girl, you make your own decisions…” “Big girl? You calling me fat?” she teased as she rolled onto her back and turned her head to face his, just about making out his features in the dark room. He rolled his eyes, God she was a pain in the ass at times.

“Yeah, you’re huge.” he deadpanned, his hand travelling over her flat stomach and coming to rest on her hip. “Enormous.”

“Ok, well now that we’ve established I need to run, you know on account of me being a hippo, that still doesn’t answer the question why we have to go so damned early anyway. It’s not like we have to be anywhere…” “It’s less crowded.” he shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s because it’s a ridiculous time.”

“Stop being a fucking brat!” Steve laughed and she huffed out breath again.

“I’m not being a brat, it’s just a stupid time to be getting up.”

“I love how full of sunshine and happiness you are in the morning.” Steve muttered as he dropped his head so his lips could gently trail a few lazy kisses down her neck before landing at her collarbone and giving a quick nip, his hand tightening on her hip.

She sighed, her body already starting to respond to his touch, the way it always did, betraying her. 

Damned him and his fucking bastard sex appeal.

“Okay, if you want to actually get up now…” She muttered, as his mouth travelled back up and she rolled her head back to give him access to the spot on her neck that drove her wild every time he found it.  “I suggest you stop.” “I hit the snooze button.” he muttered, lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “We got about eight minutes left.”

“Eight minutes? You have a very high opinion of yourself.” Katie replied, tilting her head so she was looking at him, smirking.

Steve said nothing, just cocked a single, mischievous brow at her before his lips met hers, his hand running down from hip to thigh then across, parting her legs slightly. They were still naked from the night before, clothes strewn all over the apartment after he’d been so desperate to get his hands on her.

She moaned gently into his mouth as he slowly sank two fingers into her and her hips instantly bucked upwards, drawing a grin from his mouth. 

“Easy, Baby.” He whispered, his mouth returning to her neck.

Four minutes later she lay beneath him, a quivering wreck and he was right behind her, two shallow thrusts later as he tumbled over that edge with a low groan, eyes fluttering shut as he fell forward onto her. He smirked into her neck when she had finally regained her senses enough to quip that he’d beaten his best time by a full sixty seconds. And sixty seemed to be the flavour of the day as it was almost another sixty minutes before they got to his favoured running spot, the National Mal thanks to the fact it had taken Katie half an hour minutes to locate her running shoes which she’d eventually found in her car.  Steve had seized the opportunity, as always to lament her for the fact she was messy. 

“I’m not messy.” She scoffed indignantly as they walked the seven blocks. “I’m just not as OCD about everything being in its right place, all the time, like a neat-freak Soldier”

The good natured jibing had continued until they reached their destination and walked through the park to the reflecting pool

“How many laps did you do last time?” Katie asked, as Steve stretched his arms upwards, cracking his back.

“Six.” he said.

She looked at him, frowning. “That’s like what? Twenty miles?”

“Nearer twenty-two.” He grinned.  “You want me to keep your pace?”

She laughed “No way, you’ll just bitch at me for being slow.”

“I do not bitch…” “You bitch like a 14 year old girl.” Katie lamented, gently shoving him in his back. “Now go, go on!”

He smiled again, jogging backwards for a second before he set off at a rate of knots. Exercise always made him feel good. Running, boxing, sparring…fucking. Pushing away the dirty thoughts that had arisen to the forefront of his mind, he was quick to find a comfortable pace, his trainer clad feet slapping the concrete.

It didn’t take Katie long to find her rhythm either. Despite not being with SHIELD anymore she had kept her fitness training up, sparring three times a week with either Natasha or Steve in the local gym. She was technically still an Avenger after all, Tony having now fashioned her another Supernova suit which was basically a version of his latest Iron Man suit but in Silver and Blue, the Nova shaped star sported in the chest where the mini arc reactor powered it. She’d given it a trial run whilst she had been back in New York and was just as impressed with it now as she had been with the prototype he had blown up.

Her feet gently slapped the ground as she ran, the sun was rising on the last day of March and it was promising to be a sunny, bright spring morning.

"Hi.” A voice greeted her as another jogger she hadn’t seen before caught up with her and fell into step with her.

“Nice day for it!”  Katie smiled.

“You normally run this early?” He asked “Haven’t seen you around before.”

“That’s because I don’t normally run here!” She smiled “But I just spent 5 days in New York eating crap so…!”

He laughed and held out his hand. “Sam Wilson.”

She took it and gave it a shake. “Katie Stark.”

“Well I’ll be damned!” Sam grinned “I didn’t recognise you. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

As Steve was about to lap Katie for the first time he noticed she was running with another jogger, a black man wearing a grey sweater with short, cropped hair. At one time this would have sparked the green eyed monster in his chest, but not now. Not only did he know she wouldn’t stand for it, but he knew she was just sociable in general. She would talk to anyone given the chance and moreover, she was his girl, he knew that. As he approached them he breathed out an “On your left.” as a warning as he sped past into his second lap.

Sam frowned, looking round and Katie smirked, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as Steve’s frame whizzed off into the distance.

“I never tire of looking at these.” She commented a short while later as they rounded the monument.

Again the sound of heavy footsteps came. “On your left.”

“On your left.”

“Uh-huh. On my left. I got it.” Sam called after him as he entered his fifth lap.

Katie didn’t even try to stop herself this time and she laughed at the slight look of frustration on Sam’s face.

Not long after they were making a lap around the pool at the base of the memorial. Sam gritted his teeth at the wholly unwelcomed sound of footsteps behind him once again, he looked over his shoulder “Don’t say it. Don’t you say it!”

“On your left.”

“Come on!” Sam shouted and Steve allowed an amused smile to spread across his face.

Sam tried his hardest to pick up his speed to match that of Steve’s but failed miserably after only a few moments, now completely gassed out.

“Are you alright?” Katie asked laughing as she approached his hunched over figure, catching her own breath.

“Oh, here he comes…Superman himself…” Sam said gesturing to where Steve was now walking towards them, hands on his hips. He paused at his girl’s side and looked down at Sam.

“Need a medic?” he teased.

“I need a new set of lungs.” Sam chuckled breathlessly. “Dude, you just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes.”

“Guess I got a late start.” He shrugged, shooting Katie a pointed look. She responded with her best innocent stare, batting her eyelids at him. Rolling his eyes, he turned his attention back to the stranger who began to talk again.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap.” He scolded jokingly. “Did you just take it? I assume you just took it.”

Steve smiled, he couldn’t help but like this man. As he looked at him, he noticed the military symbol on his grey sweater.

“What unit were you with?” Steve asked changing the subject and motioning to the man’s shirt.

“Fifty-eighth, Para-rescue. But now I’m working down at the VA. Sam Wilson.” He said motioning for help up.

“Steve Rogers.” Steve held out his hand and pulled Sam to his feet.

“I kind of put that together.” Sam said as he tried to catch his balance. “Must have freaked you out, coming round after the whole defrosting thing.”

“It takes some getting used to. But I’ve had help.” He smiled, looking at Katie who grinned back. “Good to meet you Sam.”

“Yeah, bye Sam!” Katie smiled as Steve gently placed his hand on her lower back to steer her away.

"It’s your bed right?” Sam called out from behind him.

Steve paused and they both turned back around. “What’s that?”

“Your bed, it’s too soft.” Sam went on to explain. “When I was over there, I’d sleep on the ground and use rocks as pillows. Like cavemen. Now I’m back home, in my own bed, feels like-”

Steve cut him off. “Like lying on a marshmallow, feels like I’m gonna sink right to the floor.”

"How long?” He asked Sam

“Two tours.” Sam responded. “You must miss the good old days huh?”

“Well, things aren’t so bad.” He folded his arms, taking a quick glance at Katie who raised her eyebrow at him, teasingly. “Foods a lot better. We used to boil everything. No polio that’s good.” He paused before making a gesture with his hand. “Internet so helpful, I’ve been reading that a lot tryna’ catch up.”

Sam nodded and then moved his right hand from where it had been folder across his chest and held it, fingers extended. “Marvin Gaye, 1972, ‘Troubleman’ soundtrack.” He said, returning his arm to its resting position “Everything you’ve missed jammed into one album.”

“Ohhh man!” Katie groaned “I love that film.”

Steve nodded, smiling and pulled out the notebook she had bought him the previous year, “I’ll put it on the list.”

“We can download it later.” Katie offered. Steve smiled as he closed his book before he reached into his other pocket for his phone which was going off. It was Natasha.

'Mission Alert. Extraction imminent. Meet you at the curb :)’

He showed the message to Katie who read it whilst he looked over at Sam.

“Well Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run. If that’s what you wanna call running.” He joked extending his hand.

“Oh that’s how it is?” Sam says amused shaking the offered hand.

“That’s how it is.” Steve responded, laughing slightly.

“Okay, anytime you two wanna stop by the VA. Make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Steve said as Natasha pulled up in her black chevvy sports car.

“Hey guys, anyone know where the Smithsonian is? I’m here to pick up a fossil.” She quipped.

“Hey Nat!” Katie waved at her and she nodded whilst Steve simply shook his head.

“That’s hilarious.” He commented dryly as he turned to Katie. “I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?” She took a deep breath. “Be careful.” She instructed as she leaned up to give him a kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Steve made his way to the car, opened the passenger side of the car and dropped into the seat.

“How you doing?” Sam called with a smile as he squat down to get a better view of both Natasha and the car.

“Hey.” She responded with a small smile.

“Can’t run everywhere.” Steve joked smugly, looking back at the man.

“No you can’t.” Sam chuckled and Steve shot one last look at Katie who waved as Natasha surged the car forward.

Katie watched them go before she turned to Sam.

“Military girlfriend huh?” He teased and she laughed.

“Something like that.” “Fancy a coffee?” Sam nodded to one of the stands parked over on the square and she smiled.

“Sure, why not?”

Sam insisted on paying, despite Katie’s protests and they took their coffees over to a bench, sitting down in the early morning sun. As they talked, Katie fast realised she really liked this man, and he was pretty damned interesting too. He told Katie about his time serving in Afghanistan and how he had chosen, post the loss of his partner, Riley, to leave active service and focus his attention on helping others through work at the VA.

Katie had never really dug into the VA much, but it seemed like it did some pretty good work, helping those Soldiers who needed help adjusting to life post discharges for medical or mental health reasons. Sam confided in her that the DC branch was under threat due to lack of funding, and she made a mental note to speak to Tony about it being something that maybe the Stark Relief fund could look into partnering.

When they both realised they had been sat on the bench chatting for almost an hour and a half the pair of them both, knowing they had other places to be, exchanged numbers and she promised to pass his onto Steve.

The rest of her day went pretty quick, in a flourish of telephone conferences and various other ad-hoc emails to deal with, talking to the editors and Business Development team about potential authors to target. By the time she logged off for the evening it was gone eight. She leaned back in her chair, glancing up at the photos that decorated her office, her eyes being drawn to the one on the shelf of herself and Steve which had been taken at the New Years Eve gala last year. 

Picking up her phone she debated texting him, but she knew better than to bother him. From personal experience, STRIKE missions were heavy going. Instead she decided she was going to break with their usual routine whereby he would come to hers if it wasn’t too late post mission, and she was going to wait for him at his.

******

 “The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star.” Rumlow spoke, moving images along a screen as they all stood watching as the jet flew over the Indian ocean. “They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, ninety-three minutes ago.”

“Any demands?” Steve asked.

“A billion and a half.”

“Why so steep?” Steve asked, frowning. That wasn’t so much steep as fucking vertical.

“Because it SHIELD’s.” Rumlow replied and Steve took a deep breath.

“So it’s not off-course, its trespassing.” He said exasperatedly, turning to his left and looking at Natasha.

“I’m sure they have a good reason.” She met his eyes, her face not faltering for a second.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of being Fury’s janitor.” Steve raised his eyebrows as she looked back at the screen.

“Relax.” She drawled. “It’s not that complicated”

“How many pirates?” Steve looked back at Rumlow.

“Twenty-five.” he replied, once more swiping at the screen. “Top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc” he pulled up a photo of Batroc on the monitor. “Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol’s Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. This guy’s got a rep for maximum casualties.”

“Hostages?” Steve pressed.

“Uh…mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell.” Rumlow flashed up Sitwell’s photo and Steve shifted slightly “They’re in the galley.”

“What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” He queried, an air of frustration in his tone as he pulled on his gloves before he took a breath and issued his instructions without waiting for an answer. “Alright, I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you’ll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep up after, find the hostages, get them to the life-pods, get ‘em out. Let’s move.”

“STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up.” Rumlow nodded to his team and they all began to bustle around the jet.

Steve moved towards the back, checking his ear piece, raising his wrist communicator to his mouth. “Secure channel seven.”

“Seven secure.” Nat picked up a few more bits of equipment from the shelves, passing a coms device to Evans as Steve walked behind her to the ramp. “Did you do anything fun Saturday night?”

“Well, seeing as all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, I had to settle for a movie and pizza with my girl.” He shrugged as he fit his ear piece, a smile tugging at his face. “Yeah, it was fun.”

Natasha grinned and Evans gave a chuckle as the pilot spoke into his ear. “Coming up by the drop zone, Cap.”

Steve punched the button to lower the ramp before he grabbed his helmet.

“You know, I think it’s cute. You’re like a regular, normal couple.”  Evans said, and Steve turned to him as he fastened the straps on his helmet.

“That’s because we are normal.” He replied, a little louder as the noise of the air blowing through the ramp surrounded them. Steve grabbed his shield and swung it onto his back, the irony of his statement making him smile even more as he walked towards the end of the ramp.

“Yeah, because most people do this type of stuff for a living.” Natasha shot after him and he turned to face her, smirking.

“Well, at least it doesn’t get boring.” He grinned, before he threw himself off the jet.

“Was he wearing a parachute?” Rollins turned to Rumlow who gave a huff of a smile.

“No. No, he wasn’t.”

Steve held his arms and hands out to the side of himself as he was free falling through the air, before he shifted, straightening his legs out below him and crossing his arms over his chest. He speared straight into the ice cold water below and, after a moment to adjust, he started swimming toward the ship, using the anchor chain to climb up onto the deck. He dropped silently over the railings and grabbed the guard who had walked past seconds before in a choke hold, rendering him unconscious as noiselessly as he could. Then he set off at a sprint and it wasn’t long before he encountered two more of the pirates. Using his shield he hit the first one and took him down then sent the vibranium weapon flying once more where it ricocheted off the hull of the boat and took down the second. He caught it and continued running around the side of the deck where he encountered another three. The first one he dispatched with a harsh kick, taking the others down with a quick leg swipe and a harsh punch to the face. The next one he saw wasn’t looking so Steve sped up and used his momentum to shoulder barge him over the side of the ship, before he launched at the next one, taking him down with a swinging choke hold. The one after had a knife, which was slightly more inconvenient, but Steve managed to disarm him and used the dagger he now had possession of to pin one of the other guards hands to the wall as he was reaching up to hit the alarm button, before knocking him out with a kick to the head.

That was how it went for the most of it. Steve ran the entire deck, taking everyone down using his shield, arms, legs, body, any means he had before anyone could raise the alarm. And he was almost home and dry, until he dispatched of what he thought was the final merc, until as he caught his shield, he heard the click of a gun right behind his head.

“Bouge pas!” The man spoke and Steve tilted his head slightly to glance at the man in his peripheral, understanding the words to mean don’t move. So he didn’t, especially not as he had just spotted Rumlow drifting down towards the deck. The STRIKE leader shot at the pirate, taking him down and landed a few feet away.

“Thanks.” Steve nodded to him.

“Yeah. You seemed pretty helpless without me.” Rumlow joked and Steve turned to see Natasha and Evans parachute down onto the deck to join them.

“So you know you said before about things not getting boring?” Natasha asked as they strode across the deck, Steve slinging his shield onto his back. “If you ever need any tips on how to keep it from getting boring in the bedroom, just ask.”

Steve shook his head and let out a groan.

“When you gonna ask her to move in with you?” Nat continued.

“Secure the engine room, then we can talk about my sex life and living arrangements.” Steve deadpanned back

“I’m multitasking” Nat sing-songed as she effortlessly hopped over a set of railings, disappearing onto the lower part of the deck.

Steve set off at a run, vaulting up a few steps, using railings to swing himself onto the higher level of the ship before he stopped just below the bridge, shooting one of Lawson’s listening devices at the windows. He listened in as Batroc instructed his men to fire the engines and then Steve retreated to a spot where he could see Batroc clearly through the window of the control bridge. Crouching down he continued to listen into their conversation, easily able to understand the French they were speaking, one of his many skills picked up in the war. It had come easy post the serum, as with everything it had enhanced his ability to memorise and grasp things like that.

Batroc was being informed by one of his officers about the radio silence from SHIELD and Steve watched carefully before Evans’ voice cut across the jabbers of French.

“Targets acquired”

“STRIKE in position” Rumlow replied.

“Natasha, what’s your status?” Steve whispered into his wrist coms, but there was no reply. “Status, Natasha?”

“Hang on!” She said loudly, and Steve waited as he heard a bit of a struggle before she spoke again twenty or so seconds later. “Engine room secure.”

That was it, they were clear to engage.

“On my mark” Steve whispered “Three. Two. One.”

With that he set off running towards the bridge, leaping up a small set off steps before he flung his shield through the window. He jumped in after it and Batroc caught him with a kick to the chest before sprinting off and kicking his way out of the door. Steve jumped up, wrenched his shield from where it had been wedged in the metal panels at the back of the control room and ran after him.

“Hostages on route to extraction.” Rumlow informed as Steve emerged onto the end of a set of steps. “Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap.” The STRIKE leader continued as Steve jumped down onto the main area of the deck. “Hostiles are still in play.”

Steve looked around before he turned on his heels and started walking “Natasha, Batroc’s on the move.” He instructed quietly into his coms. “Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages.”

There was no reply, and Steve was starting to get pissed off at her radio silence.

“Natasha!”

But then, out of nowhere Batroc flew at him with another harsh kick which sent Steve flying, and no sooner had he righted himself, there came another. The two engaged, toe to toe, fists flying, legs kicking, arms blocking and Steve had to hand it to Batroc, even after he knocked him down with his shield, the man was quickly back on his feet. Steve aimed a knee to his gut and flipped him backwards only to see Batroc effortlessly fling himself into several back flips before landing on his feet a short distance away, smirking as he eyed Steve up.

“Je croyais que tu étais plus qu'un bouclier.” He chuckled slightly and Steve cocked his head to one side, chewing over the man’s words… I thought that you were more than just a shield.

The arrogance in Steve won out and he straightened up out of his attack stance. You wanna go, fucker? Fine. Let’s dance.

He took a breath, stashing his shield on the harness round his back, and undid his chin strap, pulling his helmet off. “On va voir.” He said simply, tossing it to the floor, his eyes not once leaving Batroc’s who gave a huge grin.

They dodged for a second or two before they began to fight once more, trading punches, kicks and a few more knees to the gut before Steve threw himself up into the air, twirling his body round into a huge over-head kick, connecting his boot straight with Batroc’s head. Batroc fell to the floor and soon staggered back to his feet, but Steve didn’t give him chance to recover properly. He ran at him, spearing them both through a door, and sitting up slighting, Steve knocked Batroc out with a huge punch to the head.

He took a moment to draw his breath when a voice rang out across the room.

“Well, this is awkward.”

He looked up to see Natasha smirking at him from where she was bent over a computer.

“What are you doing?” Steve demanded as he rose to his feet.

“Backing up the hard drive. It’s a good habit to get into.”  She retorted.

Steve glanced over his shoulder, happy Batroc was still out cold, before he strode purposefully towards her.

“Rumlow needed your help. What the hell are you doing here?” He drew up behind her and glanced at the screens. As it registered what she was doing he shook his head in exasperation. “You’re saving SHIELD Intel.”

“Whatever I can get my hands on.” She drawled, still tapping at the computer as she looked at him, before turning back to the screen.

“Our mission is to rescue hostages.” Steve glared at her.

“No. That’s your mission.” Natasha corrected as she finished what she was doing and pulled the pen drive out of the slot. She turned towards him and smiled causing Steve’s anger to bubble even more. “And you’ve done it beautifully.” Her tone was almost patronising as she smirked, moving to pass him.

At that, Steve felt his temper snap and he grabbed her arm stopping her in her tracks. “You just jeopardized this whole operation.”

“I think that’s overstating things.” Natasha stated calmly but before Steve had time to reply a movement caught his attention. Batroc stood up and threw a grenade at the two of them as he ran off. Steve deflected the bomb with his shield before he grabbed Natasha round the waist and hopped up onto the desks. Jumping to another one, Natasha shot out one of the glass windows into an internal office and they dived in just as the bomb exploded.

Smoke, ash and debris rained down on them and Steve gave it a second before he looked over his shoulder and out before sitting back down to take a moment. He was beyond pissed off. Pissed at Natasha and pissed at Fury for not bothering to tell him the full story.

“Okay. That one’s on me.” Natasha breathed out.

“You’re damn right.” Steve grit his teeth and pushed himself up, storming out in anger. Of course, Batroc was nowhere to be found.

**** Steve was that angry about the cluster-fuck of a mission that he didn’t speak a word to Natasha all the way home and yes, he knew it was childish, but he was getting seriously pissed off at the secrets and lies that seemed to be part and parcel of any goddamned mission Fury sent him on. Once back at base he stormed off the jet, ignoring pretty much everyone and simply barking out that they would debrief in the morning.

It was just before midnight when he got home, and as he pulled his bike up into the designated space allotted for his apartment, he noticed Katie’s car was in one of the guest spaces that lined the street. He frowned slightly, she never normally waited at his for him. Not for any particular reason other than he normally spent the hours or so after a mission debriefing before heading home to decompress for a few hours and then if it wasn’t too late he would head to hers. But the more he thought about it now he realised that he had no idea why he did it that way. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand what it was like being a SHIELD operative, or that he didn’t want her at his. 

Knowing that she was there made him smile for the first time since he’d left the Lemurian Star and, despite his various aches and bruises, he found himself taking the steps to his apartment three at a time, his eagerness to see her wiping all other thoughts from his mind.

She was on the couch, bare denim-short clad legs tucked underneath her, and she looked up from the TV as he walked into the living area and leaned in the doorway, smiling softly at the sight of her, hair tousled slightly from where she had been leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

“What are you doing here?” He asked gently as she sat up.

“Decided I’d wait for you.” She shrugged “You complaining?” “Not at all.” He smiled, turning away as he unzipped his jacket and hung it over the back of one of the stools by the breakfast bar before he crossed the room.

“You had a good day?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She replied as he walked back into the lounge. “Vanity Fair have written the article already, if I’m happy with it tomorrow then it’s going to be published this month.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at her tone. She was proud, and she had every right to be. So was he. Stark Independent Publishing LTD had taken off like a rocket and the glossy magazines were queuing up to interview the youngest Stark prodigee. She had declined all of them until the board had suggested she do one interview for Vanity Fair, along with a photoshoot in her office. She’d reluctantly agreed, but had confided in Steve she’d actually kind of enjoyed it.

“That’s fast.” he said, heading back into the room.

“Yeah they’re really pushing for it.” She smiled as he dropped besides her with a groan, lifting her legs up so they crossed his lap. As he did so he jostled the bruised ribs and muscles he’d obtained on the Lemurian Star and let out a hiss, rubbing slightly at his torso. Katie spotted this, as always, and frowned, moving her legs so she was sat up, scooting over to where he was and gently tugged at his t-shirt. He didn’t stop her as she examined the large bruise over the side of his ribs and gently ran her fingers over it.

“Ouch.” She mumbled softly, looking up at him and then tilting his face round. He knew there was a small cut on his temple but other than that and the bruise to his side he was uninjured. “Is this it?”

He nodded.

“So how did you do it this time?”

“I got blown through a window.” Because that was a perfectly normal thing for Captain America to do, Katie merely rolled her eyes and dropped a kiss to his cheek as she stood up “I’ll get the arnica and fix you something to eat”

He loved this, the way she just wanted to take care of him, but he was aware of what time it was too, and he didn’t want her to feel like she had to play the dutiful housewife.

“Kitten, you should go to bed, its late.” He grabbed her hand. “Once I’ve patched you up and fed you I will.” She shrugged stubbornly, tugging gently on his hand and he allowed himself to be pulled up “Go take a shower, I’ll sort your dinner.”

This time he didn’t protest, simply smiled, dropped a kiss to her head and headed to the bathroom.

He stepped under the hot water cascading from the shower and let out a groan as it hit his body, allowing it temporarily to soothe his mind and his aches. He still couldn’t shake his annoyance at how the mission was gone. Suddenly, he was distracted by his stomach grumbling and he realised he was actually really hungry. He quickly washed off before cutting the water and stepping out, grabbing a towel. He could hear Katie in the kitchen as he walked down the hall towards his bedroom where he dried himself off and dressed in a pair of loose sweats and a grey T-shirt.

The smell of food hit his nostrils as he walked into the kitchen, making his mouth water. Her food was always good, he had no idea what he was in for tonight but he didn’t care. As he approached where she was stood, both his hands dropped to her hips and he placed a soft kiss on her neck, an easy sign of affection before he let out a heavy sigh and reached into the refrigerator.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened?” She asked, turning to look at him as he downed pretty much an entire bottle of water before he slumped down at the breakfast bar and explained everything to her. She listened, asked questions, shook her head, and when he reached the bit about the ransom she whistled slightly through her teeth, coming to the same conclusion he had when he heard the demand.

“That’s steep.” she frowned and Steve snorted.

“That’s what I said. Turns out its SHIELDS.“

The microwave finished and Katie moved to open the door, stirring whatever was in there before removing it and placing it down in front of him, along with a plate of his favourite bread. He was silent for a moment as he stirred the hot stew, Ghoulash, before taking a small mouthful to test the heat. Damned she could cook. He nodded appreciatively.

“It’s good.” “You sound surprised.”

“Behave.” He admonished, giving her a look. “You know what I think about your cooking.”

He continued to eat as she stood up and fished about in the cupboard he stored the bottle of Arnica gel she insisted he keep to hand. As he ate, she settled next to him and hitched his shirt up, gently and carefully applying the ointment to his side. The bruise extended from the middle of his rib cage to an inch or so beneath the band of his sweats.

It was relaxing, and he relished her touch and her gentle tone as she continued to talk.

“So did you get the hostages?”

“Yeah.” He nodded in between mouthfuls. “That bit was pretty easy all things considered.”

“So what’s wrong, love?”

She could tell there was more to his mood than what he had told her, and her instincts were proven right when he let out a soft sigh as she continued to rub at his side softly.

“I’m just annoyed Sweetheart.” He sighed eventually “At Fury, at Romanoff.”

“At Nat? Why?”

“She was running a separate mission, which meant the task I gave her to back Rumlow up with the hostages wasn’t done.”

“Fury?”

He nodded.

“More secrets” Katie sighed, feeling a flash of anger. “You know this is exactly why I got out…legacy or no legacy.”

“Tell me about it.” He dropped the spoon into the empty bowl. “We were lucky no one was hurt, or worse. I mean, Rumlow was great, got everyone out but, Doll, how can I lead a team when half of them are lying to me?”

“Nat was just doing as she was told.” Katie spoke softly, trying to deal with each issue one at a time.

“Since when is retrieving Intel more important than people’s lives?”

“I’m not saying it is. I’m just saying don’t be so hard on her.” She reasoned, her fingers still tracing shapes on his skin. “She has a job to do, same as you. Its Fury you should be talking to about it.”

“Oh I intend to.” Steve snorted. “I’m going to go see him tomorrow morning after de-brief…”

“Well, at least you’ll get an explanation. I mean it might not be what you wanna hear but…”

She was right, of course. Pushing it from his mind, Steve concentrated on her touch as she was still gently rubbing his side. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of contentment, and was disappointed when she finally finished and let his t-shirt fall down before she stood up to put the ointment away.

“You want any more to eat?” She asked, once she’d washed the arnica off her hands.

“Is there any?” He looked at her hopefully.

She smiled, nodding, and then gave a small yawn which she tried to stifle, but Steve noticed it.

“Okay, I’ll warm some more up and you’re gonna go to bed.” He said, standing up “And that’s an order.”

“Bossy bastard” She retorted. He replied simply with a raised an eyebrow and stern glare as he crossed towards her. She held her hands up, “Okay, I’m going…” She leaned up to kiss to his cheek.

“Won’t be long.” He smiled.

Steve had another bowl of food before he slipped the dishes into the dishwasher and headed to the bathroom to clean his teeth. He turned off the lights, crossed into the dark bedroom and pulled off his T-shirt, sliding into bed behind Katie. His arm curled over her waist, surprise surprise she was in one of his shirts, which did nothing to ebb his growing desire and the twitching in his groin. Hoping she wasn’t asleep, his nose gently nuzzled at her neck, and he was pleased when she responded.

He needed this. Wanted this. Wanted her.

“When you told me to go to bed…” Katie sighed, as his lips gently started their assault on that spot, “I thought you meant to sleep.” “Want me to stop?” Steve practically purred into her neck.

“Didn’t say that.” She replied, rolling her head to catch his lips as his hand crept down her inner thigh. She let out a contented sigh and he smiled against the side of her neck as he traced his fingers over her hip, hand flattening as it crept down and round to the top of her panties, his fingers slipping inside, where he found her hot, wet, ready for him. It was enough to harden him completely as he started to gently tease her, causing her to groan at the pleasure, her back arching whilst his lips continued to kiss and caress her neck.

“Steve.” She moaned softly, her tone pleading. “I want you…”

Fuck, he would never get tired of hearing that. Ever. 

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“Yeah. Please Stevie.” He didn’t think he’d ever be able to say no to her. His hand moved up and he gripped at her hip, gently rolling her so she was lay on her back, using his leg to part hers. He guided his shirt over her head, pulled down her panties, before he stripped off his boxers, fingers lacing in between hers, as he crawled over her, pinning both hands above her head as he worked his way into her. They both groaned as he stretched her, and she looked up at him, those eyes locking onto his as he leant down to kiss her, starting up a slow, gentle pace. He moved slowly, again and again, lips caressing hers, then her jaw, then her neck, all the time his hands wrapped around hers, causing her to surrender to him completely.

He kept up that soft, gentle pace, loving her completely. He could tell she was close, he knew the signs well enough now and as she groaned in delight, tightening around him he coaxed her, “That’s it baby girl…” lips soft on her ear.

And then she came, shuddering underneath him, her head tipping back, as she let out a gentle, low, broken moan of his name. It sent shivers down his spine and he continued to thrust through her orgasm, the tale heat spreading across his belly and then he tipped too, jerking and groaning slightly before he fell forward, burying his face in to her neck.

“Love you.” She whispered softly into his ear as her hand ran up his neck, into his hair and he gave a hum of contentment as he regained control of his senses.

“Love you too, so damned much, Sweetheart.” He rubbed his nose up against hers and she chuckled slightly as he rolled off of her. She scooted closer so she could lay her head on his chest and his arm curled round her, large hand tracing shapes on her skin at the bottom of her back as she tossed her leg over his.

“What time are you in tomorrow?” She asked gently, hand rubbing absentmindedly over his chest.

“Half nine.” He gave a sated yawn.

“We can have breakfast together, I made cinnamon rolls.” She muttered through a yawn of her own.

“That so?” “mmmhmmm”

“You know, you’d make a good little housewife.” He grinned, thinking back to his thought before. He knew her response before she had uttered it. “Fuck you.” He chuckled, dropping a kiss to her head and they both fell silent. And his last thought as he drifted off to sleep was just how her being here had made him almost forget his worries.

Katie lay still, listening to the sound of his breathing which grew even as he fell asleep, clearly exhausted. He always needed food and rest after missions, his metabolism drained him. She stole a glance up at him, long eyelashes lay against his cheek as his head lolled to the side slightly, facing her.

“Night soldier.” She whispered softly, placing a peck on his lips before settling down and succumbing to her own tiredness. ********* Katie woke the next morning, tangled in Steve’s arms, his face pressed into her neck as he’d done his usual koala impression. As gently as she could, she moved to check her phone for the time, and found it to be twenty-five past seven, five minutes before her alarm was due to go off. Cancelling it, she glanced back over at Steve who shifted onto his back, the arm that had been thrown around her gently resting on his chest. Smiling, she climbed out of bed deciding to leave him to sleep as long as she could.

Considering what a light sleeper he normally was, Steve didn’t stir when Katie returned following her shower and was still out of it when she finished dressing so she unset the alarm on his bedside clock and headed to the kitchen. She put on a fresh pot of coffee, threw the fresh rolls she had made the previous day into the oven and settled down on his couch, flipping on the TV whilst she quickly scanned through her phone, looking at her schedule for the day. She only had one meeting in the afternoon, and it wasn’t important so she fired an email through to her PA asking her to reschedule.

At about eight-fifteen, there was still no sign of Steve so Katie headed through to the bedroom to wake him up. Any longer and he would be late for his debrief. He was lay side on, facing her side of the bed so she dropped next to him…

Something was tickling his nose, right on the bridge. He gently sniffed, and then soft lips met his. Again, again…Steve made a completely involuntary noise that was halfway between a groan and a sigh as he realised his girl was kissing him awake, before her lips met his and this time he gently responded.

“Hey.” That soft voice greeted him and he smiled, gently cracking an eye open and meeting that emerald green.

“Morning” He said groggily and she smiled.

“It’s almost eight-fifteen.”

He frowned, that was late. “My alarm didn’t wake me?” “I turned it off, sorry-not-sorry” She said with a tone so blasé it made him chuckle “You needed the rest.” She gave him a soft kiss again “There’s coffee in the kitchen and breakfast is ready.” “You know I could get used to this” He rolled over so he was on his back as she rose from the bed. “Coming home to a ready-made dinner, waking up to ready-made breakfast before I go to work. And you.” “Nice to see which one of those is your priority.” She teased over her shoulder as she left him to it.

“Always you, Doll.” he murmured with a smile. But as he lay still for another few minutes, he thought about it more and more. Over the past four months, other than when they were away either on missions or business trips they had spent every night together, either at his or hers but last night, something had felt different to him, more intimate. She’d taken care of his mission injuries, cooked for him, made love to him, and now here she was making him breakfast before she would wave him off to work later on. It was almost normal, what people with mundane nine to five jobs did. And he realised he wanted that all the time, he wanted to come home, find her there, wake up with her, every single day.

“When you gonna ask her to move in?” Natasha’s voice popped back into his head.

If he was honest, he hadn’t given it a lot of thought, it wasn’t something people did back in his time before marriage. But times were different, hell he was different, and as he lay there contemplating it, he realised, it wasn’t such a bad idea.

When he headed through, Katie was sat at the kitchen table, laptop fired up, mobile glued to her ear.

“I know!” Her tone was one of utter excitement. “I mean I didn’t think they would turn out so good…or they’d be done so fast but they’re pushing for this month’s edition…”

He dropped a kiss to her neck and glanced at the screen, pausing when he saw the image. It must have been one of the photos done whilst she was in New York and as he looked at it, he felt his mouth drop open. His girl was stood against a wall in her office in the tower, one leg bent, high heeled foot raised back against the flat surface behind her, palms splayed either side of her thighs as she looked to the right. Her hair was pulled back in a slick, high pony tail, her make-up was heavier than normal and utterly flawless, and she was dressed in a grey charcoal pinstripe suit which cinched in at her waist, with a low cut white blouse underneath.

“Yeah, I know Tony.” She continued speaking into the phone as she glanced up and saw the expression on his face. She pressed a button on the keyboard and it flipped to another picture, this one of her sat in her chair, legs apart, elbows resting on her knees, as she looked beyond the camera, laughing at something. She looked absolutely fucking stunning. His eyes roved the image on the digital copy of the article and he began to read the writing that was next to it.

There are a lot of things you might absolutely hate about Katie Stark. Aged just twenty-nine she has more money than anyone could possibly wish to spend in a life-time, looks and a figure that you would kill for, and a Super Soldier Boyfriend with a jawline that seems to be carved from marble. However, after thirty seconds in her company despite wanting to hate her for all of the above, it was simply impossible not to like her.

Unassuming, accommodating, and with a smile that you simply can’t help but return, she welcomed us into her office and was remarkably humble about the entire thing, admitting that she still wasn’t quite so sure why we were so interested in her. We took the time to grill her on how the first three months of Stark Independent Publishing LTD has gone and what we can look forward to in the future.

Katie stood up and gestured for him to sit down and carry on reading the article. She headed off into the living room, continuing her call, so he read as he ate a hot cinnamon bun. The article ploughed through a load of questions about the book that had launched the business when they published, the fact the company had already registered over fifty-percent first quarter turnover, where she thought the business was going, future pipeline projects, her favourite authors, genre, books, previous role in Stark Industries before she had spent a few years working for a Government Agency following the Battle of New York (no mention of Supernova or SHIELD) and then the final paragraph took a personal turn.

When asked if she would indulge us with a personal question she sighed slightly before grinning and telling us to ask and see if she answered. So we did…

“We know that you’re a notoriously private person, in comparison to your brother anyway, but most of our readers are dying to know…what’s it like dating Captain America?”

“No idea, I’m dating Steve Rogers.” She replied immediately, a faint flush hitting her cheeks as she spoke, all the time fiddling with a delicate yet gorgeous antique looking emerald ring which sits on her right hand, a gift we suspect from the man in question. When asked to elaborate slightly, she bit her lip and simply smiled before explaining; “Steve isn’t just Captain America. There’s more to him than a shield. He’s the kindest, gentlest, most caring man I’ve ever met and he makes me unbelievably happy.” The blush spread from her cheeks to her ears “And that’s not down to the Serum or outfit, it’s just who he is. The fact he’s 6ft2, drop dead gorgeous with a smile I’d happily die for is a bonus.”

Steve felt himself grin as he read the words and glanced at the small photo they had framed the paragraph round. It was the shot of them together that had been taken at the Stark Industry’s New Year’s Gala as they danced. His eyes continued to the final part of the article, this one complete with a picture of Katie and Tony. Katie sat at her desk as Tony leaned over, looking at something on the computer screen. 

When asked about the other man in her life, her brother Tony, she smiled again, another genuine smile, the love she has for her elder sibling evident on her face and in her voice.

“I owe everything I have to Tony. He brought me up from the age of seven, gave me absolute, unconditional love and opportunities I know I was extremely fortunate to have. People have a pre-conceived image of what he is like, and sometimes he can play into that, but to me he’s been nothing but loving and supportive, my father and brother rolled into one and I can’t thank him enough for everything he has done and given me. He backed my decision to open SIP from the off and believed in me and has always pushed me to be the best I can be.”

We couldn’t resist another personal question, so we asked her a little cheekily how Tony had reacted to news that she was dating one of his fellow Avengers, who had served alongside their Father Howard in WW2. Hesitating slightly, she flushed before smirking and answering, a grin on her face.

“How he found out wasn’t ideal, but once he realised we were serious, he was fine about it. I think deep down after my last car crash of a relationship, he’s just happy I’m with someone who puts me first.”

“Do they get on?” At that she laughed. “They have a love-hate relationship. In that they hate the fact they love one another. Tony has these ridiculous nicknames for Steve and he can be an absolute nightmare at times, but to be fair Steve’s quite sarcastic himself too but I know full well that they have each other’s six and, even though they would probably deny it, they are quite close and would miss one another if they weren’t around.”

Steve, grudgingly, had to admit she was right. Tony could be a pain in the ass at times, but he would miss the billionaire if he wasn’t there. Underneath all his bravado he knew that he thought the world of his sister and, despite their initial meeting whereby Steve frankly thought the guy was a dick, he’d fast learnt during the Chitauri Battle that underneath that persona he had a heart of gold and was more like his father than he would care to admit. A fact that Steve was even more convinced of having gotten to know him much better on a personal level over the last two years or so.

Whilst the siblings certainly share a lot of attributes, both good looking, tough, hard-working, Katie has a certain softness to her edges and we challenge anyone who spends time in her company not to warm to the youngest Stark. Stark Independent Publishing has, in our opinion, a very bright future ahead of it whilst it is spearheaded by such an astute and shrewd business woman and we wish her all the best.

“What do you think?” Katie watched as Steve read the article, leaning against the wall, nibbling at her thumb, nervous to see his reaction.

Steve jerked his head round and smiled at her. “I think it’s fantastic. The photos are stunning, the article is well written. Are you happy with it?” “Yeah.” she nodded as she walked over to his chair, standing behind it and slipping her arms round his shoulders from behind “They wouldn’t drop the whole So you’re dating Captain America angle though, so our PR department told me to answer a few personal questions to shut them up. Are you ok with it?” Steve smiled and turned side on in his seat, pulling her into his lap. “Seeing as I’m the kindest, gentlest, most caring man you’ve ever met how could I not be?” “I meant every word of that.” She smiled, rubbing her nose against his.

“I know baby.” He gave her a peck on the lips. “Now I need to go or I’m gonna be late.”

Sighing she stood up as he did the same, grabbing a final cinnamon bun from the plate.

“I’ll be back at mine” She informed him as she walked to the door with him, “I have a few calls to do this morning.” “I’ll come over when I’m done.” He smiled. “And maybe we can do something this afternoon?”

“Sounds perfect”

***** Chapter 14

**Original Posting**

[leerongrong]

Your Baby?

Pairing: Nct Dream x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: You and Mark have been best friends ever since childhood, staying by each others’ side even after he became a Worldwide Idol. When he finally introduces you to his members, who think you’re older than you actually are, what a mistake.

A/N: my first fic lmao i’m soo nervouss, also shout out to my girl @neoculturalshit​ for handling my shit while writing this

Shoe sole squeaking fills the air with the constant jagged breaths and stuffy humidity coming from the room, intensified with multiple voices mixing in with groans. Mark’s rambles are like mumbling in your ear, replaced with constant buzzing like bees and an unfamiliar feeling resting in your belly. Your bag is on your left shoulder, clutched between stiff fingers as you try to keep up with his fast footsteps.

His twelve a.m to twelve p.m schedule and your eight a.m to eleven p.m schedule proved hard enough keep up with. In between his dance practices, studio recording and your everyday micro engineering studies, there was only little time to catch the other without one having to run off in between hangouts. And even then, Mark always had the dreamies call on him about some unforeseen circumstances that’ll make him leave you all alone.

He’s been apologizing ever since the last time he left you, albeit in a super creepy rooftop at midnight, and wouldn’t stop until you brought on the idea of introducing the dreamies as an apology and here you are now, in SM entertainment heading straight to the practice room where you’ll meet them for the first time. And on the contrary, you feel more scared than excited.

“And there’s Chenle. He’s like realllyyy loud but like really funny and he has this dolphin laugh that’ll make you- Are you even listening right now?”

“Mark, i’m scared.” Saying it out loud makes you feel like a baby, some helpless child afraid of going to their first day of kindergarten, afraid they won’t have any friends or anyone to talk to. You’re embarrassed for feeling this way but right now you have Mark and he knows you. The best out of everyone in your whole life, “what if they don’t like me?”

“They’ll love you,” he chuckles, “If anything, you’ll be the one begging Chenle to shut up.”

Your entire walk there had remained quiet, an occasional quip here and there from Mark whenever he sees you still so stiff. He had done a good job at getting rid of your initial fear, the feeling reducing until all that’s left is jitters and a bit of shyness. Despite your previous fear of them, you still wanted to meet them and become friends, it doesn’t matter if one of them doesn’t like you, you’d at least add one more person to your mark’s-friends-that-became-yours-too list.

“You stay here, aight? I’m gonna gather them first.” He nods to your direction before opening the door and going inside. You hear him greet multiple people, the noise inside exploding with screams and laughter. The nerves come at full force and suddenly your feet feel like jelly and the constant reassurance from mark has lost its grip on you.

The weather outside has calmed down significantly. The storm has reduced itself to raindrops pelting down the window, the constant patter doing nothing to calm you down. Your heart is beating erratically inside your chest and you have to thank Mark for his timing because you feel you’d have burst if he hadn’t come out faster.

All eyes are on you the moment you step in.

Multiple lights shine down the wide room, creating an illusion that it’s bigger than it already is. Gray walls surrounding the space loom high and act as pillars to hold up the entire architecture. your eyes move to the corner where there are an abundant of water bottles looking as if they were thrown messily along with multiple bags, one you recognize as Mark’s.

You’re broken out of your trance when mark leaves your side and crosses the room to the corner, effectively grabbing his bag and water bottle from where they lay. You see him exchanging a few words with the choreographer before he makes a beeline for the door just behind you.

“Where are you going?” You snatch his bicep in a tight grip, frowning when you see him slowly chuckle.

“I have a recording session with the hyungs,” he mumbles, “But i’ll be back in 3 hours?”

Mark flinches when your grip tightens, said boy visibly shrinking under your gaze. “mark lee, i swear-”

“They’re really nice! i promise!”

“I don’t care if they’re nice or whatever. You’re not leaving me-”

“Noona, watch us dance!” The voice breaks you and Aark from your whispering match. You turn your head, only to have Mark break away from your grip and run out of the room at full speed leaving you to stare at his retreating form with a face full of disbelieve. “Don’t worry about hyung, he’ll be back soon!”

The dreamies all surround you, each one introducing themselves in their own unique way. Your heart’s still beating erratically as you try to learn and differentiate their names and personalities, making a mental note in your brain; Jeno’s the shy one with an adorable eye smile, Donghyuck or Daechan is the tan one with a knack for jokes, Renjun’s a little shorter than the others with the sharp mouth, Jaemin’s the one with weird blue hair, Jisung’s the youngest but the tallest, and Chenle’s the one who called you noona.

The jitters and nerves melted away completely in the first hour, the boys doing a good job in including you with them. They told you funny stories about Mark, about when they first debuted, they even went into a detailed explanation about how they knew your name from Mark and how they’ve asked him multiple times to introduce you to them. They insisted you didn’t need to reintroduce yourself because they pretty much already know everything there is, courtesy of Mark. Well almost everything.

Jeno, Jaemin, and Hyuck had decided early on to call you by your first name, the three agreeing that you’re roughly around their age. While on the other hand, Renjun, Jisung, and Chenle had decided to call you noona. You don’t consider yourself to look mature for your age and you certainly didn’t think any of them would be calling you noona, when in reality you’re younger than Jisung.

‘Do i really look that old?’ The annoyance is simmering in you at the thought, little bits of it breaking to the surface when you pout and cross your arms while you watch the boys goof around after finishing their routine. The thought of them thinking you were older leaves an unpleasant feeling in your mouth.

“Time for revenge.”

The multiple shoe screeching in the room had lessened a significant amount, the boys having done their practice and are currently playing a few rounds of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’ll be buying food. You watch from across the room as Renjun walks to the corner to pick up his water. “Renjun-ah! Can i have some water too?”

You giggle to yourself when he crosses the room to give you some from his bottle, the boy completely oblivious to your sneaky intentions. “Thank you, Renjun-ah.”

“Noona!” Chenle’s shrill voice is something you’ve gotten used to both before and after officially meeting him. Mark’s always let you listen to snippets of their unreleased songs and you’ve been able to recognize their voices for years to help with giving your inputs and comments. “Can we go to the store?”

“Why’d you need to ask me?” You cut yourself off before opting to rearrange your choice of words. “I mean, you can go if you want? I’ll stay here to wait for Mark.”

“We didn’t want to leave you alone!” he smiles, “but it’s okay, Jeno hyung and Jaemin hyung are gonna go for us!”

You watch as Jaemin and Jeno gather up their shoes and put on masks, the two chatting around with the other members for a bit and your heart clenches when you see Jaemin squishing Donghyuck’s cheeks, the latter shooing Jaemin’s hands away before pushing them out the door. “Adorable.”

Donghyuck’s gaze is on yours the second the words drop from your mouth and he sticks his tongue at you when he sees you looking at him, a teasing gesture the two of you have adapted. You’ve been acquainted with Donghyuck for the last two months, the two of you starting out awkward before one day, he had stuck out his tongue at you and now you’re always sticking tongues out at the other for no apparent reason, something Doyoung doesn’t approve of.

“Donghyuck oppa, lemme pinch your cheeks.”

Your response is a perfectly trimmed eyebrow raise, “Oppa? We’re like the same age tho?”

“Chenle-yah, let noona pinch your cheeks!” You ignore Donghyuck’s statement in hopes of not blowing your cover, smiling brightly when Chenle comes over and plops himself right in front of you. His cheeks are like mochi in your hands, the skin all dewy, soft to the touch that you have to remind yourself to stop squishing before you become addicted. “Gosh, Chenle, you’re too cute. Like a baby!”

Jeno and Jaemin get back just in time, multiple managers and choreographers burst into the room just moments after them, stopping by to check on their progress. Long hours have ticked away while the sun sets, casting its golden rays and warm hue through the window and into the room. the air is filled with low chatters and you’re in a conversation with Jeno when the door opens again.

“Hey everyone-” 

You recognize the voice to be Johnny’s but his next words are muffled from multiple footsteps coming into the room at once, some faster and bolder while others are quiet and dainty. You’re listening as they increase from slow steps into full out sprints and you don’t react quick enough and you shriek when you feel someone heavy crash onto your back, making you face plant to the hard floor, them tumbling down with you

“Mark, really?” Doyoung nags before turning towards you, “Hello, little bugs.”

“Noona, look. Mark hyung’s back.” The minute those words fall from Jisung’s lips, the person on your back, who you realize to be Mark, looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. The air turning awkward for moments until two laughs explode from somewhere behind you and he joins in.

“Noona?” Johnny laughs, “Jisung, she’s younger than you by months!”

Both Chenle and Jisung launch onto their feet, crowding beside you and Mark. You try to push Mark off of you while looking at the two boys and how their mouths are moving so fast you don’t understand what they’re saying, while the expressions on their faces make you laugh along with Johnny and Doyoung.

“Yah! I’ve been your Oppa the whole time?!”

“Call me Oppa!”

“Jisung you’re a few months older than I am! And you’re a babie.”

“Well you’re a babie too!”

“This is disrespectful!”

The room bursts into chaos as each of them try to convince you to call them Oppa, Hyuck and Chenle protesting the most out of the six. The laughs and giggles echo throughout as Doyoung and Johnny shake their heads and watch from afar, smiling fondly at the way you’re slowly blending in with the dreamies. Mark’s hand is on yours for a while, the emotions in his eyes too misty for you to read until he grins. “Told you they’d love you.”

Your laugh is airy and full of emotion, “Yeah and its all thanks to you.”

[fishybehavior]

His biggest heist [Part 1]

Borg tower; the pinnacle of technology, security, and the future. Filled with information and innovation. It was one of the symbols of New Ninjago City and has been propped up as unbreakable.

So Jay decided to break in.

And that wasn’t even the best bit, he was getting paid to do it too.

Eight hundred feet in the air, on a window washer lift making it go as high as it could go. It was 10 pm, and Borg industries were having its annual gala. Security was lax so high up, everyone focusing on the first dozen floors, anything about 50 should be bare of breathing guards. But then again, Borg Industries was known for unconventional guards. But that's where Jay’s secret weapon came into play.

“How’s the hacking going Zane?” Jay spoke into his mouthpiece, the familiar metallic voice on the other end huffing in reply.

“No, you’re still out of range. They work on a short-ranged signal for a reason.”

“Well sorry princess, I thought it’d be better now we’re halfway up this stupidly tall building.” He muttered as the lift would go any higher. They were hovering at about floor 55, and he needed to still get up another 20 or so floors. “Welp, I guess I’m just climbing the rest.” He sighed as he unclipped his harness rope from the lift, messing with the controls for his harness.

“What! Your free climbing? The wind speeds are 40mph, you’ll be blown off!”

Jay was messing with the new features he added to his gauntlets. “Don’t worry, I’ve been working on a feature that allows me to stick to glass with electro-static leftover from the residual power.”

“First, you can't just confuse me with technical language like everyone else to get me to stop talking. I know what you're saying, and secondly, that feature isn’t field-tested. You don't know how well it works in real-world conditions!”

“Well, I guess it's time to test them then!” He cheered as he stuck his hand on the glass, it stuck and he tested it before he put his foot out and allowed it to stick. Soon he was completely off the lift, attached to the glass window like gum. Laughing gleefully he started to climb up the wall.

He could still hear Zane mumbling, “I swear you have a death wish.”

Jay elected to ignore the comment, “Tell me when you're in range.” He continued to climb about 10 stories, quickly becoming used to his new life as a tree frog as he methodically climbed the architecture.

“You're in range,” Zane quipped, and Jay stopped, letting his partner take over for the next bit. Zane had to hack in the short wave connection of the android guards. Allowing him to enter without alerting them and without tipping off Borg something was off with his toys.

“Do you have it, Zane?” Jay questioned, he didn’t like sitting here like a duck. Ducks got spotted and fed bread, and he wasn’t hungry.

“Finished,” The AI boasted, “Those androids are ridiculously simple once I cracked the firewall. Their visual and audio inputs are on a loop, so as long as you don't touch them they won't know you're there.” Jay could practically hear him smile. Zane may not always like his criminal behavior, but he couldn’t deny that this was so much more fun than playing go-fish in his dorm.

Jay finally got to his floor, giving Zane a minute to disable the alarm, he cut through the two-inch-thick glass with his laser cutter. Pushing in quietly he stepped into a dim hallway, getting surprised as an android guard walked up to him. He had to step back, flatting himself to the wall so it wouldn’t touch him. But it walked by, disappearing into a door right next to him. Opening the door with its identification code.

Jay let it walk in and before the door could close he slipped followed after it. Walking into another dim hallway with three doors on the end, “Ok Zane, I should be close, can you get me through the doors?” All the doors needed an id to get through, but he couldn’t follow the same android, it was going through the left door and he had to go right.

“Already ahead of you. Do you need me to tell you where to go too? How about what we’re looking for too,” He asked slightly annoyed.

“Haha. You’re very funny.” Jay quipped back, going to the right door to enter. He knew that Zane hated doing all the work, but this wasn’t a simple museum where the most he needed was noticed when the police called. The security here was tight, and the only way he could do it is if he stayed unnoticed. And he couldn’t hack everything as quickly or as unnoticed as Zane could. And being quick was the key to getting in and out without being caught.

Zane provided a code, and Jay projected it onto the scanner beside the door, opening it and Jay slid through. Jay continued to sneak throughout the seemingly endless hallways, avoiding the android guards that stood by some doors, and others that walked up and down the hallway. Staying as far from them as he could, he trusted Zane’s hacking, but things could always go wrong. The deeper he got into the building, the dimmer the hallways became, telling Jay that the security here was taking more electricity than previous. Whenever someone would come here legally they would turn on the aux lights, but he wasn't being very legal at the moment. Not that it bothered him. His bionic eye was equipped with ocular adjustments more sensitive than his natural eyes, making the dimness seem brighter than it was.

Jay opened one more door and saw the door he was searching for, it looked like all the others, but it had android guards on either side. Approaching the machines he looked at the door, it opened just like all the others, with a scanner on the right side right behind the android. It gave him about four inches to maneuver, but that should be just enough. Taking a deep breath he slid his arm between the two, and with a flick, he activated the projector for the code right onto the scanner. The door giving a slight hiss as it opened, Jay froze waiting for the guards to attack him. But they didn’t even twitch as the door opened, sighing he pulled his arm back and walked in. The door shut behind him and lights flicked on automatically. Bathing the small room in harsh light. Hissing at the sudden brightness Jay tried to take in what he was seeing.

There was only one thing in the room. A red mask with white markings swirling about the face. The mouth was closed with big teeth prodding from the mouth. The eye holes were rimmed in black as the mask's impressive eyebrows squinted in discontentment. The mask was in a glass case, and there were four more guards at each corner of the display case.

"Ok Zane, what am I looking at?"

"A mask in a display case," Zane answered simply, and he could hear him chuckling as Jay facepalmed at his response. "I know I know." Zane chortled as he looked at the alarms and electronic triggers around the room. "By opening the door with a legal code, the room sensors were disengaged, but the androids are directly linked to the case. If it's opened without authentication, they will either attack you or attempt to destroy the mask."

Jay stepped closer to the mask, looking for any physical triggers too, "Ok, so what's the authentication key?"

He heard Zane hum as he tried to answer his question, "A vocal command it seems. A person who matches the vocal key and a certain phrase is needed, but I can't decipher what the phrase is." He huffed in frustration.

"Here show me. I'll help." And the code appeared on his gauntlets projector. The two looked at the code, slowly decoding what meant what. Finally, they were able to get a phrase, "Release alarm on case 198-021, by the authority of Cyrus Borg." Jay read aloud, chuckling at the unoriginal phrase. "Could you construct a synthesizer in Borg's voice?"

"I can certainly try, but it may take some time."

"How long?"

"At least ten minutes."

"Can you do it in seven, we don't have the luxury of time."

"I'm working as fast as I can, but you may need to try and find another way if you can't wait," Zane said, returning to work on the synthesizer.

Jay huffed, as he studied the case and the androids. He knew the blueprints of robots well, he could just short-circuit them. But he couldn't do all four at once. And anyway, once he took one out, every android not assigned to a position would converge on him. Not a welcome outcome, so he either had to get the voice key or find a way to keep the alarm system from triggering. But that was going to be tricky because it was a physical trigger on the glass case, either for pressure or an electrical current. If you disrupted it, the alarm would go off. Maybe he could cut into the glass itself? Take out the top and pull out the mask? He'd have to make sure that the mask itself wasn't on a pressure plate as well, but it would be a good option.

"Zane, how's the key going?"

"Poorly, I'm able to get the rest of the phrase, but the different pronunciation possibilities for 198-021 make it nye impossible to make a perfect key with no reference."

"Well, what you have now, will it work?" Jay questioned

"I'm uncertain. I don't know if the phrase needs to be verbatim to work. If it's not right, we'll set off the alarms." Zane hummed in thought, calculating the risk that going through with the vocal key would take.

"It's too much of a risk, we should try to break into the case itself. Zane is the mask on a pressure plate?" Jay questioned the AI, and he heard him hum in thought as he looked through the available resources.

"I can't tell for certain. There are two triggers, but I can't tell if one is for the mask, or if they're both for the case."

"No matter which one we choose, we risk an alarm. I'm going to try and cut into the top. Zane be at the ready. If the alarm does go off, I need you to deactivate the four androids here and the two at the door." Jay said, he knew that there wasn't a kill switch that would work for all the androids, needing to be turned off individually. But if he was going to get out without being caught, he had to depend on Zane's ability for multitasking and speed. Or he'd be a fish in a barrel.

"Of course," Zane hummed, setting up the code to try and find the kill switch. Once he activated it Borg would be notified that something was wrong and the other androids would converge on their location. Which drastically cut their chances of escape. Too much for Zane's comfort. "Ready when you are." He stated ready to kill the androids if needed.

Jay rolled his shoulders, loosening the stress that's been building for the last half an hour. He knew he only had about 10-20 more minutes before something happened. Either someone noticed the androids were on loop or would spot him on camera. He had to act now or get caught. Taking a deep breath he adjusted his laser for the thickness and type of glass he was cutting.

"Here we go," he breathed as he began to cut.

[hoodedwing]

Loyalty Killed Me

Summary: The Joker could finally do what he wanted to do, traumatize Nightwing

Characters: Nightwing. Harley Quinn. Joker. Mentions of Red Hood

Warnings: Just really sick ways of stitching people up. Blood. Depressive. Major character/s death mentions. Batman. Doctor Leslie Thompkins

Additional Notes: I know Joker cannot traumatize Grayson canon-wise? Please correct me if I’m wrong.

Word Count: 2,242 words

***

Time doesn't stop.

Time knows, in its hands. It plays around with the seconds. These seconds matter, someone dying, someone on the communicator whispering, ____ come get me. come get me, I can't go back.

Time doesn't freeze. Time does not have a cloak drapes around it in a timeless manner. Time does not walk in a regal manner and stroke your gaping wounds to cauterize them. Apply pressure because really, when did Time wait for you to stop the damned arterial spray? Have you seen first hand how much blood can spew, almost like a fountain from that serrated dagger?

Time has caught up with Dick Grayson, the Wonder Boy. The Nightwing Blüdhaven didn't deserve. The loving boyfriend/husband of Barbara Gordon. The first son of Bruce Wayne, Batman.

Batman. He doesn't know who's Batman. Not anymore.

-

3200..6400..12800..

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Remember, inhale slowly, inflate lungs. Let it circulate through. Let. Let it work.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful and your father was handsome. You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters.

Pain.

Pain is relative. If you fuck with pain long enough, it won't fuck back with you. Pain spreads through him and he inhales deep, bigger breaths. Trying to drown out the searing ache. He succeeds, deceives his brain.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He knows how to lie, how to smile widely at the Blüdhaven precinct when shit goes down or still tell a joke or two when Damian is there.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He's a good man. Honest to goodness. He's fooled himself into thinking his left leg didn't feel on fire, he's successfully managed to stop gasping against the rattle of his chest, a rub or two might be the cause. Who knows?

BOY WONDER! SAD YOUR DEAREST BATMAN HASN'T COME TO SAVE YOU YET? WHY LOOK AT THAT.

Mistah J checks his watch and smiles, his crooked smile stares back at Richard.

Dick only looks away as the Joker's cold fingers run his slimy, skinny fingers along his body. He used to shiver under his touch in a bad way, he would gulp and squeeze his eyes shut, hunting for memories to dive into.

When he got Zitka. When his mother named him her Robin. When he went on patrol for the first time with the all mighty Batman. When he first met Jason. Then Tim. Then Damian. Then the nights they spent healing wounds, fighting together or just sleeping or Netflix.

Dick doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He doesn't even let out a humourless laugh or a quip. Dick clings onto a hope.

Batman. Come get me.

BOY WONDER IS STILL LIVING. WHY, THAT'S A JOY. COME OUT THERE LITTLE BLUE BIRD. YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN STAY IN THAT LITTLE BRAIN OF YOURS? WHEN YOU WAKE UP. THAT LEG WILL HURT. YOUR BLOOD WILL SPILL AGAIN ON THAT DARNED LITTLE CREST.

He doesn't care. The glorious speech does not make him flinch. He looks at the window, one thought crosses his cloudy vision.

Bruce (Dad), come get me.

LET'S HAVE SOME MORE FUN, SHALL WE. EVEN JAYBIRD PLAYED THIS GAME TOO. COME ON, HE HAD FUN. LET'S PLAY BLUE BIRD. BLUE JAY. HMM. I LIKE THAT.

-

Playtime.

Its always target practice. He would lie there and watch Harley swing her mallet here and there, sometimes too close to Dick and she would talk to him, so sweetly.

Aww, you wanna play too? Let's play together, shall we?

His face will clench up, his head will scream and suddenly everything is loud as Harley fires guns at targets and maybe shoot some arrows at Dick.

On lucky days, he's used as her gymnast prop.

I want to fly again. Batman I'm falling, please I'd like to fly again. My wings are clipping and I will rip. -

He falls asleep.

You can't call it sleeping. Dozing in and out of consciousness, he was neither awake or sleeping. A grey haze flittered across his vision. No sign of clarity. He still heard the rattle of his breath, the fire in his leg. The now warm abdomen.

He feels someone at his leg.

Harley Quinn was there, a sly smile as he feels a needle go in and out.

In and out. In and out.

In and out, in and out. You need to breathe Dick. In and out. In and out.

When he hears the door shut and a ricocheting silence, he peeks at his leg.

A sick suturing of his leg stabs with dental floss, a handiwork Harley was sure to boast later on. He doesn't care if it gets infected. What's the big deal? Batman will take care of it.

He turns over on his side to his communicator lay. The Nightwing emblem was shattered beyond measure. No matter, I can get a new one. The communication mattered.

He presses the distress signal again, again. Again. Bruce better get that flashing orange light and he should feel his bipolar touch in no time.

He tries to talk, voice hoarse from decreased usage and a rough sandpaper-like quality stuck to it.

"H..hello? Bruce. Dad. Please get me. I'm.. I'm waiting. Please."

He turns back in his side, curled up like an invited animal.

The rain pours, shadows keep coming in and out but none belong to his dad.

The boy asks the moon if Batman had lost his way. Asked if the moon could shine the light brighter at him so Dad can find him faster. He'll be okay, he'll be okay. Bruce might be lost, after all. There's a lot of streets and time isn't on anyone's side.

-

Two weeks go by.

Dick still finds himself bound by the ties and definitely no sign of the caped crusader.

Batman is surely coming.

That thought fades slowly, over the weeks. He's gotten more used to the Joker and the crowbar.

Is this how Jason felt, when he was in Hell?

Dick cannot remember. Dick only knows how the sound of metal and bones work, how the bullet will hit skin, pierce it through with frightening velocity and dull ache afterwards. The pool of blood will remind him that yes, I was shot.

A sick game of Russian Roulette. Instead of one bullet, there's multiple. A .44 magnum shouldn't hurt anymore. The revolver keeps spinning in his mind where acrobats should be. Where's Bruce. Where's dad. Am I forgotten?

Dick tried to remember how to breathe. Is it that hard? Just pulling in oxygen and letting the respiration mechanism do its work?

Distract thine self.

He tries to remember. Tries. He's trying. Nightwing has to do this. You need to at least remember your name. Your mother, your father. Dick. Dick.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful but I don't know what her hair colour is, sometimes it's blonde or chestnut and your father was handsome.  You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters. Are they Jason? Tim? Da- I don't remember, I don't remember the tiny one. Is he even real? Your sisters too. Stephanie, Stephanie. I have one more, the sneaky one. She's fast but I don't know her name. I'd like to know her well too. Pity I. I don't know her name. I hope she knows my name. That way I can hear her voice and maybe figure out who is the charming one. I know she does ballet. I know she made brownies once with.. Who? I don't remember his name. The old man with cheery wrinkles and deep eyes. I don't know who he is too. Oh. Oh oh. Dick.

[DANGEROUS TO FALL ASLEEP, RICHARD JOHN 'DICK' GRAYSON. EYES. OPEN. EYES. OPEN. BREATHE. (MY LUNGS DON'T WORK)]

I'm begging someone, please. It doesn't have to be Bruce. Get the ballet girl to help me please, she fast and maybe I can ask her name while she gets me out of here.

-

Bruce never gives up.

You know that too, do you? He's spent 3 weeks finding his son. His beloved child.

Do you ever think how much Bruce's heart breaks over and over everyday?

-

"ALFRED?! CAN YOU GET JASON NOW, NOW, NOW?! I FIGURED HIS COORDINATES."

Bruce flips from the Batcomputer and grabs everything. A blind haste, he's never dressed so fast. His son. Oh my god, his son.

Jason is down there getting the Batmobile to rev up and they speed.

They speed.

Are they fast?

I guess. If you call 290 in 85 fast.

They run, Jason dashing first and his breath catches in his throat. A cold draught erupts inside of him. He snarls, Bruce turns as he digs through the alleyways. He finds what he knows lurks.

"The sick fucker is going to end Dick in the same fucking warehouse he ended me in. That big bitch.

Bruce puts one hand on his shoulder and squeezes. No time to panic, Dick is the one. is the unsaid message as Jason crashes through the window.

And even him, Red Hood. The one who sees and commits murder everyday, stops and hot anger sears through him.

Dick lies, barely 15 feet away, bound up and covered in his own blood, the ripped Nightwing suit from his recon mission. Bruce picks him up while Jason gladly punched (and secretly plugged a bullet) the fuck out of Mistah J and Harley.

They lie on unconscious, Jason evaluates the scenes, trying to suppress his screams at what they've done to Grayson.

Bruce picks up Dick like he's glass, he hurries to the Batmobile with Jason telling to prepare the Medbay.

"The Medbay.. I.. I don't think. Leslie. Leslie can."

Is all Bruce says and Jason revs up, driving the Batmobile way beyond the legal limit. Bruce doesn't give a flying banana about it. He'll pay the fine later.

Bruce looks down at his son, hoping he hasn't fallen asleep yet. Finally, finally Dick is in the arms of the crusader. Half his domino mask is ripped and Bruce tries to not break at the baby blues staring without any light-hearted gaze.

His heart still beats (A reminder he's alive and could've been more alive. Bruce failed him)

"LESLIE. DR THOMPKINS!"

Jason screeches across and marching in, earning angry stares  from the other patients but it turns into gasps and horror when they see Batman carry a limp Nightwing barely clad in spandex anymore. Everyone bows out, knowing they were priority.

-

Something inside Dick broke.

He doesn't know what it is.

He'll live with it.

-

"Bruce, he's fallen into a coma."

Leslie says, solemn. Angry tears form in Jason's eye and he was about to fight Bruce, give him the tirade. Compare him to Nightwing.

The unspoken message rings loudly in Bruce's mind. He doesn't need Jason to say it.

You failed him too.

Jason is seething, anger. Sadness a d everything is violating him from inside.

If you were a minute later, he would've died. We would've been carrying his body to the grave. The Joker would still live. You see the problem? DO YOU NOT SEE THE FUCKING PROBLEM?

Bruce sits beside Dick, his pulse like a fluttering butterfly. He grasps his hand in Duck's fragile one and prays.

Prays that he wakes up.

-

Dick is on a life support machine now.

I guess the ventilator couldn't keep him up. All good boys do die. If not, maybe a part of them broke.

Dick is no exception.

-

Alfred squeezes Bruce's hand. Jason sits so quietly beside him alongside the rest of the family.

Its April 27th. Jason was taken this day.

They don't say a word, neither does Red Hood, he just wants the baby blue eyes to open again.

He cries.

-

Five months have gone by and he stirs slowly.

He's barely moving and Jason shoots up and looks, squeezes Dick's hand again.

Baby blues meet emerald green.

Jason dashes for Leslie. She comes and shoos everyone out.

Jason is fucking glad. Dick is alive.

-

Bruce is disappointed.

He cannot bring himself to meet Dick who's currently in the ward under observation. He's failed Dick. He knows it.

He enters, heavy hearted. Dick is smiling at everyone but Bruce can see it, the hard lines. The sunshine doesn't reach the baby blues. He thinks they've turned into aquamarine, a shade tad too dark. I guess, that's what trauma does to people.

Dick smiles at Bruce, he feels the tension and Dick pats the chair beside him where Jason was sleeping. Bruce softly sits, he has no heart to wake Jason up.

Dick is alive. Dick is alive.

Bruce places one hand on Grayson's one, it feels much more warmer and his pulse is beating normally.

And he breaks.

He cries, tears steaming down his cheeks. An ugly sound escapes his throat. Bruce gasps in air and exhales shakily. Dick watches, silent.

Is this how you felt when I was in Hell?

Dick doesn't touch Bruce, doesn't say its okay and I'm alive. He stares dead into Bruce.

I cannot forgive.

Dick sits quietly, he doesn't have to say it. Loyalty does kill you in the end if you step on all the wrong pieces of glass.

That's when you find yourself falling from the trapeze line, you find yourself swirling again in the memories you wish you could lock.

Loyalty in the end, is your demise.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner Ch 13: On  Your Left

Summary: Ex- SHIELD Agent Katie Stark and Captain Steve Rogers have been dating for almost a year now, things are going pretty smoothly for once. A chance morning jog introduces them to Sam Wilson, before Steve is called away on a mission which doesn’t go quite according to plan...

Warnings: Smut (NSFW), no under 18s. And they say some bad language words.

A/N: Bonus additional scene- On Va Voir available...

So we are into the Winter Soldier Storyline. I've had LOADS of fun writing this.

Please re-blog if you like and send me any tag requests or suggestions you would like to see (as one shots or part of the main story) going forward by Ask.

End of March/Beginning of April 2014

"Turn it off," Katie’s voice was muffled from the pillow she had buried her face into. He moved slightly, but it wasn’t fast enough for her liking. "Steve!"

With a huff he leaned over and slapped the offending item with his palm, hitting the snooze button.

“Why is it even set?” she grumbled “It’s not like you don’t normally wake up at the crack of dawn anyway…and who uses an alarm clock when they have a phone?”

“You know, no one makes you stay here…” he teased, with a chuckle moving so that his front was pressed to her back.

“You’ve been away for 5 days…I never sleep as well when you’re not here…” she mimicked his line from the night before in a baby voice.

“And that’s why the alarm is set, because I do sleep better with you…” his arms circled her waist and he grinned to himself as despite the fact she was grumpy and tired she melted into his arms as he nuzzled at her neck, revelling in her smell, her warmth.

“Jerk…” she said. “I mean what time is it anyway?” there was a pause as he continued to simply breathe her in and she glanced at her phone giving a scoff as she saw the ridiculous time on the screen “5:30? In the morning. Five. Thirty…”

“You said you wanted to go running.” He murmured, his eyes still closed.

“No, you said you were going running and I said I might tag along because I’ve eaten nothing but shit whilst I’ve been in New York, which, by the way is your fault…”

“My fault?” Steve laughed, cracking an eye open “I wasn’t even there.”

“Exactly” she muttered “No one to stop me.” “I wouldn’t stop you anyway. You’re a big girl, you make your own decisions...” “Big girl…You calling me fat?” she teased as she rolled onto her back and turned her head to face his, just about making out his features in the dark room. He rolled his eyes, God she was a pain in the ass at times.

“Yeah… you’re huge…” he deadpanned, his hand travelling over her flat stomach and coming to rest on her hip. “Enormous…”

"Ok, well now that we’ve established I need to run, you know on account of me being a hippo, that still doesn’t answer the question why we have to go so damned early anyway. It’s not like we have to be anywhere…” “It’s less crowded.” he shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s because it’s a ridiculous time…”

Oh fuck this for a game of soldiers…if she was that moody about being woken up Steve was going to do something to remind her exactly why she chose to stay in his bed.

“I love how full of sunshine and happiness you are in the morning…” he muttered as he dropped his head so his lips could gently trail a few lazy kisses down her neck before landing at her collarbone and giving a quick nip, his hand tightening on her hip.

She sighed, her body already starting to respond to his touch, the way it always did, betraying her. Damned him and his fucking bastard sex appeal.

“OK, if you want to actually get up now…” she muttered, as his mouth travelled back up and she rolled her head back to give him access to the spot on her neck that drove her wild every time he found it.  “I suggest you stop…” “I hit the snooze button…” he muttered, lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “We got about 8 minutes left.”

“8 minutes?”

 “Reckon I only need 5…” he shot back

“You have a very high opinion of yourself…” she replied, tilting her head so she was looking at him, smirking.

Oh, challenge accepted Doll! He said nothing, just cocked a single, mischievous brow at her before his lips met hers, his hand running down from hip to thigh then across, parting her legs slightly. They were still naked from the night before, clothes strewn all over the apartment after he’d been so desperate to get his hands on her.

She moaned gently into his mouth as he slowly sank two fingers into her and her hips instantly bucked upwards, drawing a grin from his mouth. 

“Easy, baby…” he whispered, his mouth returning to her neck…

4 minutes later she lay beneath him, a quivering wreck and he was right behind her, 2 shallow thrusts later as he tumbled over that edge with a low groan, eyes fluttering shut as he fell forward onto her. He smirked into her neck when she had finally regained her senses enough to quip that he’d beaten his proposed time by a full 60 seconds. And 60 seemed to be the flavour of the day as it was almost another 60 minutes before they got to his favoured running spot, the National Mal thanks to the fact it had taken Katie almost 30 minutes to locate her trainers which she’d eventually found in her car.  Steve had seized the opportunity, as always to lament her for the fact she was messy. 

“I’m not messy.” She scoffed indignantly as they walked the 7 blocks. “I’m just not as OCD about everything being in its right place, all the time, like a neat-freak Soldier”

The good natured jibing had continued until they reached their destination and walked through the park to the reflecting pool

“How many laps did you do last time?” Katie asked, as Steve stretched his arms upwards, cracking his back.

“6.” he said.

She looked at him, frowning. “You did 6 laps…that’s like what? 20 miles?”

“Nearer 22.” He grinned.  “You want me to keep your pace?”

She laughed “No way, you’ll just bitch at me for being slow.”

“I do not bitch…” he said, giving her a look. “You bitch like a 14 year old girl…” she said, gently shoving him in his back. “Now go, go on!”

He smiled again, jogging backwards for a second before he set off at a rate of knots. Exercise always made him feel good. Running, boxing, sparring…fucking. Pushing away  the dirty thoughts that had arisen to the forefront of his mind, he was quick to find a comfortable pace, his trainer clad feet slapping the concrete.

It didn’t take Katie long to find her rhythm either. Despite not being with SHIELD anymore she had kept her fitness training up, sparring 3 times a week with either Natasha or Steve in the local gym. She was technically still an Avenger after all, Tony having now fashioned her another Supernova suit which was basically a version of his latest Iron Man suit but in Silver and Blue, the Nova shaped star sported in the chest where the mini arc reactor powered it. She'd given it a trial run whilst she had been back in New York and was just as impressed with it now as she had been with the prototype he had blown up.

Her feet gently slapped the ground as she ran, the sun was rising on the last day of March and it was promising to be a sunny, bright spring morning.

"Hi." a voice greeted her as another jogger she hadn’t seen before caught up with her and fell into step with her.

“Nice day for it!”  Katie smiled.

"You normally run this early?" he asked "Haven't seen you around before."

“That’s because I don’t normally run here!” she smiled “But I just spent 5 days in New York eating crap so…!”

He laughed and held out his hand. "Sam Wilson."

I took it and gave it a shake. "Katie Stark.”

“Well I’ll be damned!” Sam grinned “I didn’t recognise you. Nice to meet you."

"You too."

As Steve was about to lap Katie for the first time he noticed she was running with another jogger, a black man wearing a grey sweater with short, cropped hair. At one time this would have sparked the green eyed monster in his chest, but not now. Not only did he know she wouldn’t stand for it, but he knew she was just sociable in general. She would talk to anyone given the chance and moreover, she was his girl, he knew that. As he approached them he breathed out an "On your left." as a warning as he sped past into his second lap.

Sam frowned, looking round and Katie smirked, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as Steve’s frame whizzed off into the distance.

"I never tire of looking at these." she commented a short while later as they rounded the monument.

Again the sound of heavy footsteps came. "On your left."

"On your left."

"Uh-huh. On my left. I got it." Sam called after him as he entered his 5th lap.

Katie didn't even try to stop herself this time and she laughed at the slight look of frustration on Sam's face.

Not long after they were making a lap around the pool at the base of the memorial. Sam gritted his teeth at the wholly unwelcomed sound of footsteps behind him once again, he looked over his shoulder "Don't say it. Don't you say it!"

"On your left."

"Come on!" Sam shouted and Steve allowed an amused smile to spread across his face.

Sam tried his hardest to pick up his speed to match that of Steve’s but failed miserably after only a few moments, now completely gassed out.

"Are you alright?" Katie asked laughing as she approached his hunched over figure, catching her own breath.

"Oh, here he comes…Superman himself…" Sam said gesturing to where Steve was now walking towards them, hands on his hips. He paused at his girl’s side and looked down at Sam.

"Need a medic?" he teased.

"I need a new set of lungs." Sam chuckled breathlessly. "Dude, you just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes."

"Guess I got a late start." He shrugged, shooting Katie a pointed look. She responded with her best innocent stare, batting her eyelids at him. Rolling his eyes at her, he turned his attention back to the stranger who began to talk again.

"You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap." he scolded jokingly. "Did you just take it? I assume you just took it."

Steve smiled, he couldn’t help but like this man. As he looked at him, he noticed the military symbol on his grey sweater.

"What unit were you with?" Steve asked changing the subject and motioning to the man’s shirt.

"Fifty-eighth, Para-rescue. But now I'm working down at the VA. Sam Wilson." He said motioning for help up.

"Steve Rogers." Steve held out his hand and pulled Sam to his feet.

"I kind of put that together." Sam says as he tried to catch his balance. "Must have freaked you out, coming round after the whole defrosting thing."

"It takes some getting used to. But I’ve had help” he said, looking at Katie who smiled. “Good to meet you Sam.”

“Yeah, bye Sam!” Katie smiled as Steve gently placed his hand on her lower back to steer her away.

"It's your bed right?" Sam called out from behind him.

Steve paused and they both turned back around. "What's that?"

"Your bed, it’s too soft." Sam went on to explain. "When I was over there, I'd sleep on the ground and use rocks as pillows. Like cavemen. Now I'm back home, in my own bed, feels like-"

Steve cut him off. "Like lying on a marshmallow, feels like I'm gonna sink right to the floor.”

"How long?" he asked Sam

"Two tours." Sam responded. "You must miss the good old days huh?"

"Well, things aren't so bad.” He folded his arms, taking a quick glance at Katie who raised her eyebrow at him, teasingly. “Foods a lot better. We used to boil everything. No polio that's good.” He paused before making a gesture with his hand “Internet so helpful, I’ve been reading that a lot tryna' catch up."

Sam nodded and then moved his right hand from where it had been folder across his chest and held it, fingers extended. "Marvin Gaye, 1972, 'Troubleman' soundtrack.” He said, returning his arm to its resting position “Everything you've missed jammed into one album."

“Ohhh man!” Katie groaned “I love that film.”

Steve nodded, smiling and pulled out the notebook she had bought him the previous year, "I'll put it on the list."

“We can download it later…” she said. He smiled as he closed his book before he reached into his other pocket for his phone which was going off. It was Natasha.

'Mission Alert. Extraction imminent. Meet you at the curb :)'

He showed the message to Katie who read it whilst he looked over at Sam.

"Well Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run. If that's what you wanna call running." He joked extending his hand.

"Oh that's how it is?" Sam says amused shaking the offered hand.

"That's how it is." Steve responded, laughing slightly.

"Okay, anytime you two wanna stop by the VA. Make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know."

"I'll keep that in mind." Steve said as Natasha pulled up in her black chevvy sports car.

"Hey guys, anyone know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick up a fossil." she quipped.

“Hey Nat!” Katie waved at her and she nodded whilst Steve simply shook his head.

"That’s hilarious." he commented dryly as he turned to Katie. “I’ll call you as soon as I can, ok?” She took a deep breath. Ever since quitting SHIELD he knew she felt uneasy when he was away.

“Be careful.” she said, as she leaned up to give him a kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He made his way to the car, opened the passenger side of the car and dropped into the seat.

"How you doing?" Sam called with a smile as he squat down to get a better view of both Natasha and the car.

"Hey." She responded with a small smile.

"Can't run everywhere." Steve joked smugly, looking back at the man.

"No you can't." Sam said and Steve shot one last look at Katie who waved as Natasha surged the car forward.

Katie watched them go before she turned to Sam.

“Military girlfriend huh?” he teased and she laughed.

“Something like that.” “Fancy a coffee?” Sam nodded to one of the stands parked over on the square and she smiled.

“Sure, why not?”

********* Turns out Sam was a pretty interesting character. He told Katie about his time serving in Afghanistan and how he had chosen, post the loss of his partner, Riley, to leave active service and focus his attention on helping others through work at the VA.

Katie had never really dug into the VA much, but it seemed like it did some pretty good work, helping those Soldiers who needed help adjusting to life post discharges for medical or mental health reasons. Sam confided in her that the DC branch was under threat due to lack of funding, and she made a mental note to speak to Tony about it being something that maybe the Stark Relief fund could look into partnering.

When they both realised they had been sat on the bench chatting for almost an hour and a half the pair of them both, knowing we had other places to be, exchanged numbers and she promised to pass his onto Steve.

The rest of her day went pretty quick, in a flourish of telephone conferences and various other ad-hoc emails to deal with, talking to the editors and Business Development team about potential authors to target. By the time she logged off for the evening it was gone 8pm. She leaned back in her chair, glancing up at the photos that decorated her office, her eyes being drawn to the one on the shelf of herself and Steve which had been taken at the New Years Eve gala last year. 

Picking up her phone she debated texting him, but she knew better than to bother him. From personal experience, STRIKE missions were heavy going. Instead she decided she was going to break with their usual routine whereby he would come to hers if it wasn't too late post mission, and she was going to wait for him at his.

******

Steve’s day had been far less enjoyable. The mission, as a whole, had been a success. It had started well, Natasha doing her usual jibing, this time she was ribbing Steve about whether he was going to ask Katie to move in. He had batted off her teasing and told her to concentrate on her job first, and she had. Only it wasn’t the job he had given her. Turns out she had a different mission. One given to her by Fury. He’d been that mad about it all that he hadn’t spoken to the red head all the way home and yes, he knew it was childish, but he was getting seriously pissed off at the secrets and lies that seemed to be part and parcel of any goddamned mission Fury sent him on.

It was just before midnight when he got home, and as he pulled his bike up into the designated space allotted for his apartment, he noticed Katie’s car was in one of the guest spaces that lined the street. He frowned slightly, she never normally waited at his for him. Not for any particular reason other than he normally spent the hours or so after a mission debriefing before heading home to decompress for a few hours and then if it wasn't too late he would head to hers. But the more he thought about it now he realised that he had no idea why he did it that way. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand what it was like being a SHIELD operative, or that he didn’t want her at his. 

Knowing that she was there made him smile for the first time since that damned mission and, despite his various aches and bruises, he found himself taking the steps to his apartment 3 at a time, his eagerness to see her wiping all other thoughts from his mind.

She was on the couch, bare denim-short clad legs spread out besides her, and she looked up from the TV as he walked into the living area and leaned in the doorway, smiling softly at the sight of her, hair tousled slightly from where she had been leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

“What are you doing here?” he asked gently as she sat up.

“Decided I’d wait for you.” She shrugged “You complaining?” “No.” he said, turning away as unzipped his jacket and hung it over the back of one of the stools by the breakfast bar before he crossed the room.

“You had a good day?” he asked.

“Yeah.” she called back, “Vanity Fair have written the article already, if I’m happy with it tomorrow then it’s going to be published this month.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at her tone. She was proud, and she had every right to be. So was he. Stark Independent Publishing LTD had taken off like a rocket, and their first book that was launched little over a month ago had shot off the shelves, selling out in record time. Katie had been overwhelmed and the glossy magazines were queuing up to interview her. She had declined all of them until the Stark Board had suggested she do one interview for Vanity Fair, along with a photoshoot in her office. She’d reluctantly agreed, but had confided in Steve she’d kind of enjoyed it.

“That’s fast.” he said, heading back into the room.

“Yeah they’re really pushing for it.” she said as he dropped besides her with a groan, lifting her legs up so they crossed his lap. As he did so he jostled the bruised ribs and muscles he’d obtained on the Lemurian Star and let out a hiss, rubbing slightly at his torso. Katie spotted this, as always, and frowned, moving her legs so she was sat up, scooting over to where he was and gently tugged at his t-shirt. He didn’t stop her as she examined the large bruise over the side of his ribs and gently ran her fingers over it.

“Ouch.” she said softly, looking up at him and then tilting his face round. He knew there was a small cut on his temple but other than that and the bruise to his side he was uninjured. “Is this it?” she asked, her eyes on his.

He nodded “Got blown through a window.” Because that was a perfectly normal thing for Captain America to do, Katie merely rolled her eyes and dropped a kiss to his cheek as she stood up “I’ll get the arnica and fix you something to eat”

He loved this, the way she just wanted to take care of him, but he was aware of what time it was too, and he didn’t want her to feel like she had to play the dutiful housewife.

“Kitten, you should go to bed, its late.” he grabbed her hand. “Once I’ve patched you up and fed you I will.” she said stubbornly, tugging gently on his hand and he allowed himself to be pulled up “Go take a shower, I’ll sort your dinner…”

This time he didn’t protest, simply smiled, dropped a kiss to her head and headed to the bathroom.

He stepped under the hot water and let out a groan as it hit his body, allowing it temporarily to soothe his mind and his aches. He still couldn’t shake his annoyance at how the mission was gone. Suddenly he was distracted by his stomach grumbling and he realised he was actually really hungry. He quickly washed off before cutting the shower and stepping out, grabbing a towel. He could hear Katie in the kitchen as he walked down the hall towards his bedroom where he dried himself off and dressed in a pair of sweats and a grey T-shirt.

The smell of food hit his nostrils as he walked into the kitchen, making his mouth water. Her food was always good, he had no idea what he was in for tonight but he didn’t care. As he approached where she was stood, both his hands dropped to her hips and he placed a soft kiss on her neck, an easy sign of affection before he let out a heavy sigh and reached into the refrigerator.

“What happened?” she asked, turning to look at him as he downed pretty much an entire bottle of water before he slumped down at the breakfast bar and explained everything to her. She listened, asked questions, shook her head, and when he reached the bit about the ransom she whistled slightly through her teeth, coming to the same conclusion he had when he heard the demand.

“That’s steep.” she frowned and Steve snorted.

“That’s what I said. Turns out its SHIELDS. And it wasn’t drifting. It was trespassing."

The microwave finished and Katie moved to open the door, stirring whatever was in there before removing it and placing it down in front of him, along with a plate of his favourite loaf. He was silent for a moment as he stirred the hot stew, Ghoulash, before taking a small mouthful to test the heat. Damned she could cook. He nodded appreciatively.

“It’s good.” “You sound surprised.” she teased.

“Not at all.” he shook his head. “You know what I think about your cooking.”

He continued to eat as she stood up and fished about in the cupboard he kept the bottle of Arnica gel she’d insisted he keep to hand. As he ate she settled next to him and hitched his shirt up, gently and carefully applying the ointment to his side, the bruise extended from the middle of his rib cage to an inch or so beneath the band of his sweats.

It was relaxing, and he relished her touch and her gentle tone as she continued to talk.

“So did you get the hostages?”

“Yeah.” he nodded, in between mouthfuls. “That bit was pretty easy all things considered…”

“So what’s wrong, love?”

She could tell there was more to his mood than what he had told her, and her instincts were proven right when he let out a soft sigh as she continued to rub at his side softly.

“I’m just annoyed Sweetheart.” He sighed eventually “At Fury, at Romanoff.”

“At Nat? Why?”

“She was given a separate mission, she was tasked with saving SHIELD data off the ship, which meant the task I gave her to back Rumlow up with the hostages wasn’t done…”

“More secrets” she sighed, feeling a flash of anger “You know this is exactly why I got out…legacy or no legacy.”

“Tell me about it.” he said, dropping the spoon into the empty bowl. “We were lucky no one was hurt, or worse. I mean, Rumlow was great, got everyone out but…how can I lead a team when half of them are lying to me?”

“Nat was just doing as she was told.” she said, softly, trying to deal with each issue one at a time.

“Since when is retrieving Intel more important than people’s lives?” he shook his head

“I’m not saying it is. I’m just saying don’t be so hard on her.” she reasoned, her fingers still tracing shapes on his skin “She has a job to do, same as you, and as for Fury then…well, call him out.”

“Oh I intend to.” Steve said, “I’m seeing him tomorrow morning. After de-brief…”

“He will have a reason, might not be what you wanna hear but at least you’ll know.” she said.

She was right, of course. Pushing it from his mind he concentrated on her touch as she was still gently rubbing his side. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of contentment, and was disappointed when she finally finished and let his t-shirt fall down and then stood up to put the ointment away.

“You want anymore?” she asked, once she’d washed the arnica off her hands.

“Is there any?” he looked at her, hopefully. He did want. He was still hungry.

She smiled, nodding, and then gave a small yawn which she tried to stifle, but Steve noticed it.

“Ok, I’ll warm some more up and you’re gonna go to bed.” he said, standing up “And that’s an order baby doll.”

“Bossy bastard” she retorted. He replied simply with a raised an eyebrow and stern glare as he crossed towards her. She held her hands up, “Ok, I’m going…” She leaned up to kiss to his cheek.

“Won’t be long” he smiled.

Steve had another bowl of food before he slipped the dishes into the dishwasher and headed to the bathroom to clean his teeth. He turned off the lights, headed into the dark bedroom and pulled off his T-shirt, sliding into bed behind her. His arm curled over her waist, surprise surprise she was in one of his shirts, which did nothing to ebb his growing desire and the twitching in his groin. Hoping she wasn’t asleep, his nose gently nuzzled at her neck, and he was pleased when she responded. He needed this. Wanted this. Wanted her.

“When you told me to go to bed…” she murmured, as his lips gently started their assault on that spot “I thought you meant to sleep.” “Want me to stop?” he practically purred into her neck.

“Didn’t say that” she replied, rolling her head to catch his lips as his hand crept down her inner thigh. She let out a contented sigh and he smiled against the side of her neck as he traced over her hip, hand flattening as he crept down and round to the top of her panties, his fingers slipping inside, where he found her hot, wet, ready for him. It was enough to harden him completely as he started to gently tease her, causing her to groan at the pleasure, her back arching. He continued to kiss and caress her neck.

“Steve…” she moaned softly, her tone pleading “I want you…”

Fuck, he would never get tired of hearing that. Ever. 

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“Yeah…please Stevie…” He didn’t think he’d ever be able to say no to her. His hand moved up and he gripped at her hip, gently rolling her so she was lay on her back, using his leg to part hers. He gently guided his shirt over her head, pulled down her panties, before he stripped off his boxers, fingers lacing in between hers, as he crawled over her pinning both hands above her head as he worked his way into her. They both groaned as he stretched her, and she looked up at him, those eyes locking onto his as he leant down to kiss her, starting up a slow, gentle pace. He continued slowly, again and again, lips caressing hers, then her jaw, then her neck, all the time his hands pinning hers to the pillow above her head, causing her to surrender to him completely.

He kept up that soft, gentle pace, loving her gently. He could tell she was close, he knew the signs well enough now and as she groaned in delight, tightening around him he coaxed her “That’s it baby girl…” whispering in her ear.

And then she came, shuddering underneath him, her head tipping back, as she let out a gentle, low, broken moan of his name. It sent shivers down his spine and he continued to thrust through her orgasm, the tale heat spreading across his belly and then he tipped too, jerking and groaning slightly before he fell forward, burying his face in to her neck.

“Love you.” she said softly into his ear as her hand ran up his neck, into his hair and he gave a hum of contentment as he regained control of his senses.

“Love you too, so damned much…” he said, rubbing his nose up against hers and she chuckled slightly as he rolled off of her. She scooted closer so she could lay her head on his chest. His arm curled round her, his hand tracing shapes on her skin at the bottom of her back as she tossed her leg over his.

“What time are you in tomorrow?” she asked gently, hand tracing absentmindedly over his chest.

“Half 9…” he said, fingers still caressing her back.

“We can have breakfast together, I made cinnamon rolls.” she said through her yawn.

“That so?” “mmmhmmm”

“You know, you’d make a good little housewife…” he said, thinking back to his thought before. He knew her response before she had uttered it. “Fuck you.” He chuckled, dropping a kiss to her head and they both fell silent. And his last thought as he drifted off to sleep was just how her being here had made him almost forget that clusterfuck of a mission…

Katie lay still, listening to the sound of his breathing which grew even as he fell asleep, clearly exhausted. He always needed food and rest after missions, his metabolism drained him. She stole a glance up at him, long eyelashes lay against his cheek as his head lolled to the side slightly, facing her.

“Night soldier.” she whispered softly, placing a peck on his lips before settling down and succumbing to her own tiredness. ********* Katie woke the next morning, tangled in Steve’s arms, his face pressed into her neck. As gently as she could she moved to check her phone for the time, and found it to be 25 past 7, 5 minutes before her alarm was due to go off. Cancelling it, she glanced back over at Steve who shifted onto his back, the arm that had been thrown around her gently resting on his chest. Smiling, she climbed out of bed deciding to leave him to sleep as long as she could. Considering what a light sleeper he normally was, he didn’t stir when she returned following her shower and was still out of it when she was dressed and unset the alarm on his bedside clock and headed to the kitchen. She made a fresh pot of coffee, threw the fresh rolls she had made then previous day ready to bake in the oven and settled down on his couch, flipping on the TV whilst she quickly scanned through her phone, looking at her schedule for the day. She only had one meeting in the afternoon, and it wasn’t important so she fired an email through to her PA asking her to reschedule.

At about 8:15, there was still no sign of Steve so she decided to go and wake him up. Any longer and he would be late for his debrief. He was lay side on, facing her side of the bed so she dropped next to him…

Something was tickling his nose, right on the bridge. He gently sniffed, and then soft lips met his. Again, again…Steve made a completely involuntary noise that was halfway between a groan and a sigh as he realised his girl was kissing him awake, before her lips met his and this time he gently responded.

“Hey…” that soft voice greeted him and he smiled, gently cracking an eye open and meeting that emerald green.

“Morning” He said groggily and she smiled.

“It’s almost 8:15.”

He frowned, that was late. “My alarm didn’t wake me?” “I turned it off, sorry-not-sorry” she said so blasé it made him chuckle “You needed the rest.” She gave him a soft kiss again “Coffee in the kitchen and breakfast is ready.” “You know I could get used to this” he smiled, rolling over so he was on his back as she rose from the bed. “Coming home to a ready-made dinner, waking up to ready-made breakfast before I go to work. And you.” “Nice to see which one of those is your priority.” she teased over her shoulder as she left him to it.

“Always you doll.” he murmured. But as he lay still for another few minutes, he thought about it more and more. Over the past 4 months, other than when they were away either on missions or business trips they had spent every night together, either at his or hers but last night, something had felt different to him, more intimate. She’d taken care of his mission injuries, cooked for him, made love to him, and now here she was making him breakfast before she would wave him off to work later on…it was almost normal, what people with normal 9 to 5 jobs did. He wanted that all the time, he wanted to come home, find her there, wake up with her, every single day.

“When you gonna ask her to move in?” Natasha’s voice popped back into his head.

If he was honest, he hadn’t given it a lot of thought, it wasn’t something people did back in his time before marriage. But times were different, hell he was different, and as he lay there thinking about it, he realised, it wasn’t such a bad idea.

Katie was sat at the kitchen table, laptop fired up, mobile glued to her ear when he walked in.

“I know!” her tone was one of utter excitement “I mean I didn’t think they would turn out so good…or they’d be done so fast but they’re pushing for this month’s edition…”

He dropped a kiss to her neck and glanced at the screen, pausing when he saw the image. It must have been one of the photos done whilst she was in New York. He felt his mouth drop open at the image in front of him. Katie was stood, against a wall in her office in the tower, one leg bent, high heeled foot resting against the wall, palms splayed either side of her thighs as she looked to the right. Her hair was pulled back in a slick, high pony tail, her make-up was heavier than normal and utterly flawless, and she was dressed in a grey charcoal pinstripe suit which cinched in at her waist, and a low cut white blouse.

“Yeah, I know Tony…” she was speaking into the phone as she glanced up and saw the expression on his face. She pressed a button on the keyboard and it flipped to another picture, this one of her sat in her chair, legs apart as her elbows rested on her knees, as she looked beyond the camera, laughing at something. She looked absolutely fucking stunning. His eyes roved the image on the digital copy of the article and he began to read the writing that was next to it.

There are a lot of things you might absolutely hate about Katie Stark. Aged just 29 she has more money than anyone could possibly wish to spend in a life-time, looks and a figure that you would kill for, and a Super Soldier Boyfriend with a jawline that seems to be carved from marble. However, after 30 seconds in her company despite wanting to hate her for all of the above, it was simply impossible not to like her.

Unassuming, accommodating, and with a smile that you simply can’t help but return, she welcomed us into her office and was remarkably humble about the entire thing, admitting that she still wasn’t quite so sure why we were so interested in her. We took the time to grill her on how the first 3 months of Stark Independent Publishing LTD has gone and what we can look forward to in the future.

Katie stood up and gestured for him to sit down and carry on reading the article. She headed off into the living room, continuing her call, so he read as he ate a hot cinnamon bun. The article ploughed through a load of questions about the book that had launched the business when they published, the fact the company had already registered over 50% first quarter turnover, where she thought the business was going, future pipeline projects, her favourite authors, genre, books, previous role in Stark Industries before she had spent a few years working for a Government Agency following the Battle of New York (no mention of Supernova or SHIELD…) and then the final paragraph took a personal turn.

When asked if she would indulge us a personal question she sighed slightly before grinning and telling us to ask and see if she answered. So we did…

We know that you’re a notoriously private person, in comparison to your brother anyway, but most of our readers are dying to know…what’s it like dating Captain America? 

“No idea, I’m dating Steve Rogers.” she replied immediately, a faint flush hitting her cheeks as she spoke, all the time fiddling with a delicate yet gorgeous antique looking emerald ring which sits on her right hand, a gift we suspect from the man in question. When asked to elaborate slightly she bit her lip and simply smiled before explaining; “Steve isn’t just Captain America. There’s more to him than a shield. He’s the kindest, gentlest, most caring man I’ve ever met and he makes me unbelievably happy.” she said, the blush spreading from her cheeks to her ears “And that’s not down to the Serum or outfit, it’s just who he is. The fact he’s 6ft2, drop dead gorgeous with a smile I’d happily die for is a bonus”

Steve felt himself grin as he read the words and glanced at the small photo they had framed the paragraph round. It was a shot of them together that had been taken at the Stark Industry’s New Year’s Gala. Katie was in that red dress he loved, laughing at something and he was simply pressing a kiss to the side of her temple. A soft, understated PDA, but a reminder to everyone (in particular Mr Wandering Hands) who had eyed her up and down as they had entered the room that she was his. His eyes continued to the final part of the article, this one complete with a picture of Katie and Tony. Katie sat at her desk as Tony leaned over, looking at something on the computer screen. 

When asked about the other man in her life, her brother Tony, she smiled again, another genuine smile, the love she has for her elder sibling evident on her face and in her voice.

“I owe everything I have to Tony.” she said, simply “he brought me up from the age of 7, gave me absolute, unconditional love and opportunities I know I was extremely fortunate to have. People have a pre-conceived image of what he is like, and sometimes he can play into that, but to me he’s been nothing but loving and supportive, my father and brother rolled into one and I can’t thank him enough for everything he has done and given me. He backed my decision to open SIP from the off and believed in me and has always pushed me to be the best I can be.”

We couldn’t resist another personal question, so we asked her a little cheekily how Tony had reacted to news that she was dating one of his fellow Avengers, who had served alongside their Father Howard in WW2. Hesitating slightly, she flushed before smirking and answering, a grin on her face.

“How he found out wasn’t ideal…” No shit! Steve found himself snorting as he continue to read “But once he had read Steve the Big Brother riot act, he was fine about it. I think deep down after my last car crash of a relationship, he’s just happy I’m with someone who puts me first.”

Do they get on? She laughs “They have a love-hate relationship. In that they hate the fact they love one another. Tony has these ridiculous nicknames for Steve and he can be an absolute nightmare at times, but to be fair Steve’s quite sarcastic himself too but I know full well that they have each other’s 6 and even though they would probably deny it, they are quite close and would miss one another if they weren’t around.”

Steve, grudgingly, had to admit she was right. Tony could be a pain in the ass at times, but he would miss the billionaire if he wasn’t there. Underneath all his bravado he knew that he thought the world of his sister and, despite their initial meeting whereby Steve frankly thought the guy was a dick, he’d fast learnt during the Chitauri Battle that underneath that persona he had a heart of gold and was more like his father than he would care to admit. A fact that Steve was even more convinced of having gotten to know him much better on a personal level over the last 2 years or so.

Whilst the siblings certainly share a lot of attributes, both good looking, tough, hard-working, Katie has a certain softness to her edges and we challenge anyone who spends more than 30 seconds in her company not to warm to the youngest Stark. Stark Independent Publishing has, in our opinion, a very bright future ahead of it whilst it is spearheaded by such an astute and shrewd business woman and we wish her all the best.

“What do you think?” Katie watched as Steve read the article, leaning against the wall, nibbling at her thumb, nervous to see his reaction.

Steve jerked his head round and smiled at her. “I think its fantastic. The photos are stunning, the article is well written. Are you happy with it?” “Yeah.” she nodded as she walked over to his chair, standing behind it and slipping her arms round his shoulders from behind “They wouldn’t drop the whole So you’re dating Captain America angle though, so our PR department told me to answer a few personal questions to shut them up…are you ok with it?” Steve smiled and turned side on in his seat, pulling her into his lap. “Seeing as I’m the kindest, gentlest, most caring man you’ve ever met how could I not be?” “I meant every word of that.” she said, rubbing her nose against his as he smiled.

“I know baby.” he said, giving her a peck on the lips. “Now I need to go or I’m gonna be late.”

Sighing she stood up as he did the same, grabbing a final cinnamon bun from the plate.

“I’ll be back at mine” she said as she walked to the door with him, “I have a few calls to do this morning.” “I’ll come over when I’m done.” he smiled “And we can do something this afternoon.”

She smiled “Sounds perfect”

*********

Tags

@the-omni-princess​

@momobaby227​

@geekofmanythings16​

[pilot-boi]

Shouting in Cafes: Chapter Seven

Highway Skyline

They’re burning down the highway skyline, on the back of a hurricane that started turning when they were young.

AO3 LINK

Neptune made a point to carefully open the car door and get inside. The car was… Nice. Surprisingly nice. The seats were clean and smelled like lemons, the floor mats were spotless. No trash. No stains. Sun was checking his hair in the rearview mirror.

“Huh,” Neptune said, not fast enough to hide the surprise in his voice.

“What?” Sun asked, freezing.

“It’s nice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No beer bottles.”

“Wow, dude. I’m hurt, truly,” Sun said, pressing a hand to his chest in a facsimile of hurt. Or maybe it was real hurt. He could never tell with this guy.

Neptune supressed a laugh at his performance. He couldn’t afford to let Sun see him be happy. That would mean he was winning, and they weren’t friends. Nope. Totally not.

“Ready to ride?” Sun asked with a smile that said danger.

“Just… here? We’re going way over the speed limit here?”

“It’s fine!” Sun waved him off, adjusting his mirror and shooting himself a grin in the reflection. “There are never any cops or pedestrians here. Don’t worry so much, Neptune!”

“I have to worry. That’s the only way you won’t freaking kill yourself.”

Sun laughed, and he did have a nice laugh dammit. A laugh that made you want to laugh along with him. Neptune barely restrained himself from doing just that. 

“Okay! Here we go!”

Sun was out of that parking space so fast, Neptune thought he might get whiplash. He stopped the car just as quickly, then started it up again before either one of them could get their bearings.

“Su- Su-” Neptune stuttered out between the breaks, his nails digging into the leather and his glasses threatening to fly off his face.

“Aw, see? We are good friends!” Sun called over the purring engine. “We’re already giving each other nicknames!”

“Shut up!”

The pavement screamed underneath them and Neptune watched his life zoom past. Oh, look, there went the time Scarlet knocked his head into the terrible birthday cupcake he got him and Neptune had sprinkles dropping out of his hair for at least a week.

Sun bucked the car onto the empty street and took off, wind tangling in his hair and eyes open wide. The trees turned into green blurs, the buildings into only smudges of paint on a blue backdrop.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Neptune yelled and promptly sealed his mouth closed. Air poured down his throat at top speeds and with it most likely a million bugs. No thank you, this was terrifying enough all ready, he didn’t need that.

The road bumped and threatened to make him bite his tongue off. And he needed that, thank you very much. For screaming, if nothing else. 

“You know, you sure do take the Lord’s name in vain a whole lot,” Sun said as casually as if they were out for lunch. He pulled out some sunglasses and tucked them into Neptune’s hair without even asking. Yellow reflective aviators. What had he really been expecting?

“I’m already Catholic! It’s fine!”

“I’m not really sure that’s how it works,” he said conversationally as he pulled on a pair of honest-to-God fingerless driving gloves. He was going to die. Forget getting in a crash, his heart was going to stop.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Neptune screamed. Sun had started fishing around in the space between the cupholders, and his face was turned completely away from the road to do it. Neptune’s heart raced. Street signs smeared. Sun’s speed neared one hundred.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Cool your jets, dude! I’m just grabbing some tunes!”

“We’re going to die!”

“Oh, so now we’re a we?” Sun quipped, winking at Neptune and still not even glancing at the road that his car was practically devouring.

“What the hell are you talking about?! Just keep your fucking eyes on the road, you absolute maniac, or I’m going to have an actual stroke!!” Neptune screamed, his lungs in his throat and his heart hammering in his chest. He was going to tear the leather upholstery with how hard he was gripping it.

Sun laughed. Laughed! Like they weren’t doing something highly illegal and could die at any second! “We’re not gonna hit anyone! Hey, dude, do you dare me to beat one-fifteen?”

“No!” 

More laughter. That laughter was going to be the last thing he ever heard.

Sun finally got what he was looking for. He wiped the CD (who still used CDs?) off on his tank top and popped it into the player. Big band jazz music blew from the speakers, the bass cranked up because of course it was. Still. Jazz? Trumpetey, 1920s, New Orleans jazz?

“What the fuck is this?!”

“You really lose your censor when you’re out of work,” Sun said, leaning casually back into his seat, seemingly ignoring his hair flying in every direction from the wind, and facing directly towards Neptune to speak.

“No, I don’t! I think it’s the life or death situation I’m currently facing!”

“My driving isn’t that bad,” Sun pouted, his eyes wide again. Damn those eyes, how dare they look like they’d been plucked straight from a noon day sky. 

“Shut the fuck up and stop giving me those puppy eyes! Keep your goddamn eyes on the- You almost hit that sign watchoutwatchoutwatchoutwatchout holy fucking shit!!”

Neptune’s face was suddenly freezing, what with all the blood draining out of it and all. His hand had made its way to his heart somehow, bunching up in the fabric, while his other arm pressed up against the car door as if that would help if they hit something. If he had a heart monitor on, it would read well over one hundred.

“Puppy eyes?” Sun asked, said eyes lighting up once again and that fucking grin spreading across his face.

No. Oh God no.

“It’s a thing you do, Shut up a-”

“You noticed a thing I do?” He sounded delighted. God fucking dammit, what the hell?! Neptune was having a fever dream. That was it. He was dying of a horrible sickness, and this was the torture his brain had conjured up for him.

“Dumbass! Holy shit! Please just focus on the road!”

Sun sped up.

“No. No no no nononono!!”

“Yes yes hell fucking yes!!”

Neptune glanced over. Sun was grinning from ear to ear. A spot light that split the darkness. A smile for punching the sun, for setting off illegal fireworks just to have some color in the sky. A smile for street racing at unimaginable speeds just to bond with a barista he barely knew.  

“You’re actually planning on killing me,” Neptune panicked, at whatever could pass for a normal tone of voice in this death trap. “If this was a trick to kill me, congratulations, it’s fucking working!” 

Sun had the audacity to laugh. “I’m actually going to die in this neon blue convertible with a maniac at the steering wheel!” Neptune yelped, the calm demeanor his horrified realization had brought gone in an instant. 

“Wow, you’re morbid!” Sun laughed. “Chill out, dude! I just want to get a little air!” His grip tightened on the steering wheel and he leaned forward as if that would make them go faster.

“A little…?!”

Neptune un-squinted his eyes and focused on the road up ahead. Sure enough, there lay a steep hill that Neptune had somehow managed to forget about. How could he? He drove up it every morning and back down it every night. It made your stomach fly up into your throat even at regular speeds.

“This is suicide!” Neptune cried, gripping his seat belt tight enough to snap it right in two.

“Not if we don’t die!”

“If we don’t die, we get arrested! That’s not better! You get how that’s not better, right?!”

“How is dying better than getting arrested? Besides, there are never any cops here!”

“You’re insane!”

“We’re almost there!”

“I’m going to vomit! Seriously, I swear to Go-”

“Hold on!” Sun yelled, teeth bared in a face splitting grin and eyes bright with manic fire.

Everything in the car went flying, including its passengers. Miraculously, that flight was only an inch or so out of their seat and not through the windshield. Still, the experience of rocketing over a hill at hundred of miles per hour speeds while bass-boosted jazz blared out of the speakers was a unique experience that Neptune never wanted to repeat.

Neptune’s seat belt caught him as he threatened to fly overboard. Sun was cheering his head off, Neptune was too terrified for any sound to escape his throat. His voice seemed to have been left on the pavement below. 

There was a split second where he could have sworn that time froze and he was able to watch Sun’s huge eyes crackle with electricity and excitement. The red leaves of the trees on either side of the road swished with the new wind. The road beneath them blurred, the center lines losing all meaning. All within half a second.

But then their tires bounced once, then twice, and finally they were on the road again.

And Sun was grinding to a halt.

And swerving into a ditch.

He let the car turn completely sideways, pressing down hard into the brake. Dirt flew up around them along with clumps of grass and a few pieces of Neptune’s remaining sanity.

They lurched forward, then stilled.

And Sun hollered. “Holy shit that was awesome!!”

Neptune’s voice returned. “Am I dead?” he asked, frozen stock still in his seat, too scared to move.

“Not yet, bro!”

There was silence for a moment. Then a laugh bubbled out of Neptune. And another. And he was grabbing at his stomach in an effort to control them.

“I’ve never heard you laugh before,” Sun chuckled.

“I guess,” -a laugh break- “I save them for near-death experiences!”

Sun giggled a little. Then he joined, too.

Both of them clutched their sides with the laughing, and the more Sun laughed the more Neptune laughed because his laugh was so infectious it was annoying, but Neptune couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed. It faded in and out from high pitched snickers through his teeth and tongue to deep roaring claps of thunder. Woodland pixie. Hearty ship captain.

“Why the hell do you have bright yellow aviators, dumbass? That’s so lame!” Neptune cackled, pulling them off his head and wiping tears from behind his glasses.

“Why the hell do you have blue freaking hair? Like, more blue than my car! What the fuck?!” Sun pointed out before sputtering into more indistinguishable laughing.

They both slid down further and further into the leather seats, their shoes resting on the dashboard, the occasional putter of laughter from one of them sending both back into a laughing competition that their sides couldn’t handle anymore.

The wind messed up Sun’s hair. Bad. All that gel helped when it was styled correctly, but when Mother Nature had her way with it, it turned into a hot mess. Or just a mess. It splayed out around his head, combining with the straw yellow color and making his head look like he’d jumped into a haystack and a fan at the same time. The back just stood off his neck, straight up in the air like someone had just ordered it to attention.

He kept running his hands all through it. Like it helped. Neptune probably didn’t look that great either.

Sun’s chest was heaving with laughter and adrenaline, and there were bright pink spots high on his cheeks. His sparse freckles dotted under his flush and speckled like constellations across the arms brushing back his hair. Bright yellow hair framing eyes like drops of sky.

“Do you want me to take you back to your car?”

Neptune opened his eyes. Woozily, he addressed his surroundings. Sun was inches away from his face, eyebrows pressed together, one hand climbing through his messy hair. Had they been…? No. No stop. Neptune had just passed out from exhaustion and Sun was waking him up. That was all that had happened.

How late was it? The orange and pink shades of sunset scraped against the tops of the red-leaved trees that closed in around them. It shone through the gaps of the trunks in slats that blinded Neptune momentarily and lit up the flecks of gold in Sun’s blue eyes.

What was happening?

Sun just asked him a question. Focus Neptune.

“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” He thought for a second. Sun was still really close to his face, and for some reason his thoughts were moving more slowly than normal. He could count the individual freckles speckling his cheeks. “I won the bet.”

“It wasn’t really a bet. Just an agreement,” Sun murmured, his eyes flicking over Neptune’s face as if trying to memorize it.

“Sure, sure, but I survived.” He was too close. Why was he so close?

“Yeah,” Sun said, finally leaning back and rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly. “Am I really that bad of a driver?”

“Don’t make me start laughing again.”

Sun smiled bright enough to light up a dark room and clapped a hand on Neptune’s shoulder before starting up the car.

His hand was warm. Calloused and huge, and warm. Neptune definitely did not glance down at it. 

Nope. Totally did not do that.

[grandtheftstarship]

Troublemaker (Jim Kirk x Fem!Reader)

A/n: I literally love this one it’s one of my best!! Enjoy :D

Summary: [y/n] is reassigned to the Enterprise after breaking one too many regulations. Jim finally meets his match.

Word Count: 3739 Warnings: SO. MUCH. FLUFF. also cursing Posted: Tumblr, Wattpad Requested: No

"You can't keep doing this, [Y/n]," Admiral Pike sighed, running a hand through his already ruffled hair. "One of these days, I'm not going to be able to fight Marcus and you're going to get fired."

"They can't fire me," you scoffed. "They know I'm valuable. I beat the Kobayashi Maru, I aced all of my classes in the academy with flying colors, not to mention the fact that if it wasn't for me, the entire fleet would still be operating with only warp six!"

"[y/n], listen to me," Pike urged harshly. "Just because you're a genius, doesn't mean the rules don't apply to you. You can't just go around doing things that aren't regulation because you think 'they can't fire you'."

You huffed falling back into a chair. "Well, they can't."

"They're reassigning you," he said softer this time. Your eyes flashed back up to his, anger and confusion clouding them. 

"They're what?"

"Command is removing you from your position on the Excelsior-"

"They can't do that," you interrupted, jumping to your feet. "I'm the best damn captain that ship ever saw and now they're reassigning me-"

"Sit down!" Pike barked. "There's nothing you can do about it now."

You promptly complied, hands shaking with fury. "Can you at least tell me where I'm being reassigned to?" 

"They're putting you under the command of Captain James T. Kirk, U.S.S Enterprise."

You scowled. "I thought he was worse than me."

"You will be acting Chief Engineer since you trained as an engineer in the academy and Mr. Scott is on leave. You will answer to Spock and Kirk and you will also need to spend a mandatory 12 hours of supervision every week for six months by the captain while you are working."

"Mandatory? Who the hell do they think I am, a child?"

"That's exactly what they think you are," he retorted. "You can't seem to listen or follow instructions, like a child."

You glowered at him, crossing your arms. "Again, I thought Jim Kirk was just as bad, if not worse than I was at following regulation."

"At least he takes responsibility for his actions."

You stared him down for a few moments before he sighed. "I tried as hard as I could, [y/n], but Admiral Marcus wouldn't budge."

"When do I leave?" you asked begrudgingly. 

"Tomorrow, 0900 hours."

You heaved out a breath, defeated. "Well, I'd better get ready then."

Pike nodded, standing up on his crutch, leading you out of his office. "For the record, Jim Kirk isn't all that bad. Try to be his friend, it will make it more bearable."

"Thanks for the advice," you muttered. "See you later." 

He nodded goodbye and you made your way down the hallway, seething and hurt. 

"Commander [y/n] [y/l/n] reporting for duty, sir," you quipped, making your way onto the bridge towards the captain. 

"Pleasure to meet you, Commander," Jim said, holding his hand out. You took it, shaking firmly. "You know, we're just doing a routine run-through of everything before we take off. You're relieved for the evening. Go settle in and be ready for your first shift tomorrow morning."

You smiled kindly. "Thank you, Captain. Goodnight."

You waved, spinning on your heel and making your way back towards the turbolift. Jim turned to Leonard, who was fiddling on his pad next to him. 

"Um, Bones?" Jim asked. "Who was that?"

Leonard looked up, a curious look on his face. "Are you kidding me?"

"No...?"

Len groaned, rubbing his eyebrows with his hand. "Jesus, Jim, do you ever read your recruitment lists?"

He slowly shook his head, a bemused look on his face. A mischevious smirk bloomed on Bones' features.

"Remember that captain I told you about that was infamous for being reckless, flirtatious, and the first person to ever beat the Kobayashi Maru?"

Jim's brow furrowed. "I thought I was the first person to beat the Maru!"

"You cheated," Leonard pointed out. 

"Fair."

"Not to mention she's notorious for leaving her own trail of broken hearts and various clothing items. Sounds like someone I know."

"Your kidding." Jim's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "This is the [y/n] [l/n]?"

Leonard chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh lordy, this is going to be interesting."

Jim ignored him. "But why is she here when she's a captain? Isn't being Chief Engineer below her paygrade?"

"She got in trouble for breaking so many regulations to get things done, even if they were more efficient and helped so many people," Leonard explained. "Looks like you've met your match. Or your soulmate, or whatever."

He clapped a bewildered-looking Jim on the shoulder, striding past him. 

"I gotta go check on things down in Medbay. Don't fuck this up."

With that, the turbolift doors closed once again and Jim was left alone in the midst of bustling officers, still staring at the turbolift door. 

Oh, he wasn't going to fuck this up at all.

Embarrassment flooded your veins for what seemed like the 100th time that night. You had been lying in bed for almost three hours, tossing and turning and replaying your small interaction with Jim over and over again. Since you had been assigned the second you graduated, you hadn't really experienced the 'Reign of Jim Kirk' in the academy. Sure, you had heard talk of his infamous adventures and 'bad boy' tendencies but you had never matched a face to the name. You knew he had to be handsome but not that outrageously attractive.  You knew that you fumbled in front of him as the realization hit you that you were going to be spending lots of time with the gorgeous captain. At least now you knew better, planning out just how you were going to act around him until you drifted off into a silent sleep.

Just down the hall, Jim muttered all the way to his quarters. He was humiliated for not remembering you. He knew he should have read the recruitment lists and requirements, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. They were just more names he needed to remember, just more people he needed to feel responsible for. Strangely, he wanted to remember your name. He just wanted to know you, feel close to you. It was an odd feeling, on he hadn't felt for a woman in a long while. It felt right and wrong at the same time, but he was curious to explore it. After finally sitting down and reading the notice from command, a smile spread across his face. He couldn't wait for your first day

You were awake before your alarm went off the next morning. You paced nervously in your small kitchen area, adrenaline pulsing through you so fast you thought you would burst. You knew you had nothing to be nervous about as you were good at your job, but the fear of messing up and breaking the nonchalant and confident facade you planned on wearing shook you to the core. Once you figured it was time for breakfast, you fiddled with your hair one last time before striding out the door, wearing a slightly overcast smile.  Your breakfast went by quickly, replicating yourself a nice, steaming up of coffee and [your favorite breakfast]. Your trip to the bridge went by swiftly as well, and before you knew it you were standing next to the captain's chair with a pad in hand, waiting for a certain musky-blond to arrive. As you pulled up several things the captain needed to sign, you felt someone tap you on the shoulder. You spun, startled, meeting the eyes of the man you had seen the day before, speaking with the captain.

"Hello..?"

"Morning darlin'. I'm the CMO, Doctor Leonard McCoy," he smiled, holding out his hand. "I don't believe we've met yet."

You returned the grin, shaking his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Doc."

"So, I heard you're replacing our personal Scotsman for a bit."

You chuckled. "If you mean Scotty, you're absolutely right."

He hummed in response. "You have my condolences on having to spend so much time with Jim. He is a pain in the ass, like, 24/7."

You giggled. "Thanks. I have a feeling I'll need them."

"Wow, my best friend and the lovely lady I'm going to be spending every day with, sitting here trash-talking me," Jim stood behind Leonard, smirking profusely.

"Oh, don't be such an infant," the doctor snorted. "Just giving the young lady a fair warning s'all."

"What is there to warn about?" Jim asked, innocently. He maneuvered around you and Leo, plopping himself down in his chair. "I assume you need my signature, Commander?"

"Indeed," you replied, half-smiling, handing the pad to him. 

Jim took it, keeping his smirk plastered on his face with surprising stamina. "Have you met Spock yet?"

As if on cue, the Vulcan stepped off the turbolift, meeting your gaze and striding over to join your huddle. 

"Commander, I do not believe we have met."

You grinned kindly. "Neither do I. My name's [y/n]," you held out your hand and he shook it. 

"Pleased to meet you," he nodded. He turned then to the captain. "Captain, the ship is adequate to depart."

"I'm needed down under," you sighed, a feeling of unease and discomfort washed over you when you realized you wouldn't be the one in the captain's chair.  "Don't hesitate to ring."

You half-waved, striding off the bridge, not noticing the lingering look Jim gave you. 

You spent the next hour signing reports and making sure the warp core was up to speed, not even bothering to check a nearby window when the ship finally took off. 

"Hey, you," you could practically hear the smirk on Jim's face. You swiveled in your chair, head resting on your chin, wearing a mischievous grin of its own. 

"Well, if it isn't James T. Kirk," your hair fell messily around your face, evident that your hands had run through it. 

Even after years of practice and experience, Jim was almost unable to hide the heat that spread over his cheeks at the sight before him. Bones' words to him the day before had not been forgotten, in fact, they echoed through his distracted mind every idle second he had.

Looks like you met your match. Or your soulmate, or whatever.

Every time he saw you he was becoming more and more convinced it was true.  Even so, he played it off nonchalantly. 

"Ready to knock the first few hours off the week?"

A look flashed across your face for a brief second, before reverting back to its troublesome grin. "Let's do it."

Jim set himself up in the corner of your office and watched intently as you filed reports and answered calls from other engineers.

"So, if you don't mind me asking," Jim began. "Why were you reassigned when your credentials are so great?"

You stiffened a bit. "It was stupid."

Jim's grin deepened. "Do tell."

You stayed turned away from him as you recalled the day. You had just left from Yorktown, heading back off into uncharted space. You and your crew were tasked with tracking down an Orion Slave Trader who had just attacked and kidnapped an entire nearby refugee camp on Rigel V. You were supposed to bring him in to face justice and save all of the innocent refugees, but things went south. You and your boarding party had managed to incapacitate the few other crew members aboard the vessel as well as already beamed a few groups of kidnapped refugees, but the Orion was escaping in his escape pod. You knew you had to bring him in alive, but the conditions on his ship and the way he treated the 'slaves' was abominable. It was you who blew his ship into oblivion, not only ending his life but ending the long-lasting effect he had on the system and saving thousands of lives. 

Jim listened intently through your whole story. When you finished you turned to face him, an unreadable look spreading across your features. Jim wore an intense expression staring harshly at the floor before speaking. 

"That's pretty damn stupid."

"Excuse me?" 

Jim raised his eyes so he was looking at you intently. You gulped, his undivided attention crushing you like a bug. 

"You should have been promoted. Hell, you should have won an award! What was command thinking?" 

You shrugged. "It was a long time coming, I guess."

"What do you mean?" He regarded you strangely. 

"It wasn't the first time I violated direct orders."

"It was hardly a violation. You still saved everybody," Jim argued. 

"Before that."

"What'd ya do?"

"Well, this time, I was supposed to survey a small colony on Deneva. 'Keep the Prime Directive in mind', they said," you added. "My away team and I saw a Klingon vessel land near us. They were after the high amounts of Dilithium that the Denevans had."

You paused a moment to look at Jim, who was staring at you, a look you couldn't place dancing in his eyes. Your cheeks threatened to flush, so you continued.

"The only way to protect them was to kill off the Klingon patrol. This colony was still primitive, an essential part of developing their culture. Before the Klingons were able to attack, we were able to take them down. I can't even be sure that the locals saw us, but they probably heard us. My order to take them out might even spark an all-out war between the Federation and them."

Jim scoffed. "Doubt it."

It was your turn to grin. "So, Kirk. What've you done?"

He mimed confusion. "Huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don't play dumb. Just because we were in the academy different years doesn't mean word doesn't travel. Spill."

He sighed, giving in. "Alright. Fine. Have you ever heard of a lightning storm in space?"

Nearly three hours later, your shift was over and Beta shift was beginning. Your eyes flicked to the clock in the corner of your office.

"Alpha shift's over," you remarked, glancing over at Jim. "Wanna head to the mess? We can continue this fabulously captivating conversation over some of tonight's dinner."

He smiled. "I'd love to. After you."

You led the way out of your office, catching the attention of a few nearby engineers.

"Hey, Albertson! Leo!" you waved. "Take your time on those pipes, alright? It's okay if it's not done by the end of your shifts, but make sure it's ready by the start of Alpha tomorrow."

They called their replies, waving and wishing you a good night. 

Jim gave you a sideways glance. "Do you know all your engineers by name?"

You shot him a look. "Yeah... why?"

"[y/n], you've only been here for one shift."

"Do department heads not know their staff all by name?" you asked.

Jim shook his head. "I don't even think Scotty knew all his engineers. Even I don't remember some bridge rotation officers' names."

"Well those things are important to me," you said indignantly, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. Jim chuckled. You swatted at him. "Stop laughing at me!"

The mess doors slid open, revealing a very crowded cafeteria. You and Jim slowed to a stop, baffled at the full capacity.

"Is it ever this crowded?" you asked, needing to raise your voice a bit over the din. 

"No," Jim said back. "You know, we could just have dinner back in my quarters. I have a personal replicator in there we could use."

"That would be great," you beamed. 

Jim flashed his trademark smile before turning around and striding back out the door, a bit in front of you to hide his pink cheeks. Something kept flipping inside of him when he saw your smile, a quality he found so endearing. He couldn't believe he had barely known you 24 hours and was already starting to fall. 

"So, Kirk," you said suddenly, shoving Jim from his thoughts. "What's your favorite color?"

Jim gave you a bemused look. "What?"

"You heard me," you quipped. "What's your favorite color?”

"Uh," Jim was caught off guard. In all of the dates he had been on (there had to be hundreds), he had never, once been asked that question. It was usually something dirtier. 

"Mine's [your favorite color], if you need any inspiration," you smirked up at him, and he swore his heart skipped a beat. He tried to play it off. 

"I'm going to have to say purple," he decided. 

You slowly nodded. "Good choice."

You and Jim made it to his quarters, and your jaw initially dropped when you first saw it. It was large and open concept, a large window occupying the far wall, facing the front of the ship. 

"Wow," you commented. "Nice room."

"Thanks," Jim chuckled. He moved to where his replicator was in his mini kitchen, replicating a few plates of french fries. He took a bottle of whiskey from his cabinet, pouring you a glass. "Take a seat."

You did, going right in for the good stuff. You groaned as the liquid seared down your throat.

"Good lord, that's fantastic," you remarked. Jim nodded, taking a sip of his own.

"So," he settled down on a stool across from you, his piercing blue gaze sending chills down your spine. "Got any more good stories?"

"No," you took his lack of movement towards the fries as an opportunity to start eating them yourself. "You?"

"Well, this one time I was doing this peace exchange," he began, a smile forming on his lips. "And they totally misinterpreted my words. I was giving them half of a deadly weapon- remind me to tell you about Krall and his fleet of itsy-bitsy ships sometime."

You nodded, grinning. "Oh, I will."

Jim continued. "- and they thought it was some sort of threat so they all jumped down from their high seats on top of me and started attacking me."

You raised your eyebrows. "Really? Man, that's wild."

He nodded. "Yeah, they ripped my shirt up and everything."

You swallowed the fry and quickly moved on to another one. "What species was this again?"

Jim shifted uneasily, embarrassed. "Teenaxians."

You nearly spat your fry out. "What?"

Jim sighed. "You heard me."

You tried to stifle the giggles that started bubbling up but you ended up bursting out laughing.

Your sides ached as belts of laughter wracked your frame, your fingers curling into a fist as you hit the dark countertop. "So-So you're telling me," You could barely get the words out.

"The things that started attacking you were," you started laughing harder at the exasperated look on Jim's face. "Were little tiny Teenaxians?"

"It's not," he paused to wipe at his face with his palm. "It's not that funny."

Your giggles subsided and you wiped tears from your eyes. "Yeah, it kinda is."

Jim's heart lurched at the goofy expression on your red face. He half-smiled. 

"Okay, maybe it's a little funny."

"Oh man," you steadied your breathing, shaking your head as you wiped your greasy hands on a nearby napkin. "I haven't laughed like that in a long time."

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach at your words, pride blooming in his chest.

 You cleared your throat.

"Alright," you gave him a determined look. "Let's get some more fries and hit me up with some more whiskey, would ya?"

"You got it," he replied, letting his gaze linger on you for a moment before moving for the glass once again. 

Jim could barely take it anymore. During the three weeks you had been on board, he had spent at least 75% of it with you. He was head over heels, drowning, unbearably consumed with you. It was starting to affect his sleep and eating habits. He was always tired, never hungry. Your flirtatious and mischevious manner had drawn him to you, but it had also drawn others as well. He knew he shouldn't be surprised, nor jealous, but he couldn't help but seethe whenever he saw someone else hitting on you.  Just the thought of someone else's hands on you made him want to throw something. 

Jim Kirk was not the type of person to be denied what he wanted. 

Acting out of a sheer burst of confidence, he left his ready room in a hurry, heading down to the only place he knew where to find you. He rounded corners sharply, nearly taking down several ensigns on their way to lunch, but he barely registered them. When the doors to the engineering deck slid open, Jim was suddenly unsure of himself. 

No turning back.

He spotted you across the room, typing things into a control panel connected to some machinery on the bulkhead. He wasted zero time. 

"Hey, Jim-" you smiled, but it quickly fell when you saw the slightly crazed look on his face. Something flopped in your chest as he cornered you against the panel, closer than he ever was to you.

"Jim..?"

He said nothing. His hands reached up to cup your cheeks and before you could register what was happening his lips were on yours. You returned the affection instantly, throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling him closer. Jim responded, pushing himself against you, causing your back to press up against the panel you were previously working on.

"Jim-" your voice was muffled against his lips as he followed yours as you tried to pull away.

"Jim-!"

He moved away, and amused look on his face. "What?" 

"We're going to break something," you gestured to the panel underneath you. 

He nodded. "I see."

He met your eyes again. "But that's kinda hot."

You gasped, hitting him on the shoulder. "Jim!"

He chuckled, grabbing your hand. "I'm kidding."

He moved his face to your ear, his breath sending shivers through you. "Let's go somewhere more private, shall we?"

You nodded vigorously. "Yes. Let's."

[silent-writer83]

Let’s Do It Baby, I Know The Law

”Summary: Successful in saving Iris, there are some unforeseen costs. So, with little time left, you decide to live it up consequences be damned. When Savitar comes for you, you’ve got a few choice words in mind for him.

A/N: Tbh I just wanted to write the reader drunkenly mouthing off to Savitar. If you know what this quote is from, ily.

Changing the timeline always came at a cost, you all knew that. Hell, if you didn’t by now then you were just being purposefully ignorant. What no one expected, no matter how many times they toyed with it, was the cost they would be paying. Saving Iris was the goal, its what everyone focused so heavily on that they didn’t think twice about rearranging events. They didn’t think about the little things they were tweaking and the effect that it would have on another’s life. They didn’t think because they didn’t care.

In the end you were successful, waiting with bated breath as Cisco vibed Barry to the future yet again to see if their efforts were worth it. Of course the latino was giving a play by play, each person in the cortex hanging on his every word. You sat, hands in your lap, practically vibrating on the edge of your seat as they named the differences. “Savitar just arrived,” Cisco breathed and you could have sworn your heart stopped.

“Okay? And!” You urged, scooting to the edge as your eyes trained on your two friends. “Did it work?! Did we save Iris?” you asked the question on everyone’s mind, only, an answer didn’t come. Confused, and assuming that your plans were thwarted yet again, you slumped in your seat with a sigh.

Caitlin bit her lip to hide her disappointment as she looked over meaningless papers on her clipboard to look busy. H.R’s shoulders slumped as he gripped his drumsticks tightly. Wally did his best not to react, averting his gaze as he quelled his frustration and Joe hugged Iris to his chest. The defeat in the room was palpable as you turned back to your desk with a heavy sigh, the glance Cisco shared with Barry going unseen.

Cisco didn’t know what to say, hoping that Barry would, but when their eyes met he knew the hero was at just as much of a loss as he was. Swallowing the nerves in his belly, Cisco folded his goggles as he turned to his friends in the room. How was he supposed to say this? How could they be happy about this? Why couldn’t they just have one clean win?

“Um,” his voice cracked as he broke the silence, everyone’s head snapping in his direction. Being under direct scrutiny just made him want to shrivel up, avoiding their expectant, anxious gazes.

“We saved Iris,” Barry spoke up, forcing the cheer in his voice. The sigh of relief that filled the room only broke his heart as Cisco watched Iris rush to her fiance.

Perking up at your desk, a smile was already dancing on your features. “Yes!” you cheered, joy filling the room as everyone felt the weight of the world lift off their shoulders. Of course, nothing good could last around here, Iris being the first to pick up on Barry’s stiffness. She always could read him like a book.

“What’s wrong Bar?” She asked, pulling back just enough to look at him. Barry chewed his lip as he looked to Cisco for guidance. By now everyone was inching closer, confused as to why Barry wasn’t more excited. His wife-to-be was going to live so what’s the deal?

“We saved you but...” he faltered, stepping back as he turned to look at you. Lips parted to speak but he found the words caught in his throat. How could he say this to you, after everything you’ve done, after everything you’ve given them - him - as a friend.

“Alright dude, quit lookin’ at me like that. It’s freakin’ me out,” you laughed away your discomfort as all eyes turned to you. You didn’t like the pity in Barry’s gaze, the pain as he tried to say words that wouldn’t come. “We saved Iris what’s the big de-”

“You die!” Cisco blurted out, tense as he quickly clapped a hand over his mouth and turned his back.

The shock was clear as day on your face as you stood dumbfounded. You hadn’t thought of the consequences of rearranging the timeline but shit, you weren’t expecting this! Blinking, you took a breath, opening your mouth to speak but, like Barry, you were at a loss for words. Your mind couldn’t comprehend what was going on, couldn’t wrap around the idea that, just moments ago you were meant to live a semi-normal, happy life and now....now you only had a few days left.

Abruptly you turned, heels clicking on their way out of the cortex. You were on autopilot, mind blank and yet buzzing all at the same time. You could hear their voices calling after you, not wanting you to leave. How could they protect you if you weren’t there?! So you paused at the entry way, the calmness with which you turned setting them all on edge.

“I’m....gonna get really drunk,” you stated, moving as if to add to that before shaking your head and leaving. Yeah, you definitely needed a drink.....a stiff one.

“LET’S GET FUCKED UP!” Your voice drowned in the bass of the music, bodies writhing and jumping to the sound around you. The small glass cup in your hand was pressed to your lips, head tilting back as the cool liquid slipped down your throat. The burn had long since faded as your senses skewed from too much alcohol. What did you care anyways? Your days were limited, or was it hours now? WHO CARED YOU WERE DRUNK BITCH!

Laughter fell from your lips as you stumbled out onto the dance floor, plucking a drink from a tray as you passed. Whatever you grabbed was sweet, washing down your throat as you shimmied into the ground. Your phone buzzed in your back pocket for, you didn’t even know how many times. Like all the others it went completely ignored. You were drunk but happy, not a care in the world, and that’s how you wanted it to stay.

“Cisco, did she answer?” Barry’s voice spoke through the coms. He was zipping through Central City looking for you. How one person seemed to disappear so fast was unsettling. It was nearly two in the morning and Barry was starting to fear the worst.

“No,” Cisco sighed, the defeat was in his voice as he fiddled with his screens.

“Can’t you like...triangulate or something?!” Barry huffed, getting frustrated at his inability to find you.

“Oh yeah, because I haven’t tried that before,” Cisco shot back with a huff of his own.

Caitlin stepped up, offering a reassuring (though tense) smile to Cisco. Hands on the top of the desk, she leaned over so she could talk into the com. “Y/N would always go to Club Lavo,” She suggested with a hopeful tone.

Without a second thought Barry was rushing off, zipping through the streets of Central City. 

Barry’s eyes darted around the dark club, squinting against the flashing lights. He was looking for your familiar mop of hair, groaning when he couldn’t make out much. Thank god he had his powers. Darting through the crowd, it only took a few moments to find you. Arms wrapped around your center, not thinking twice before rushing back to the Cortex.

The world rushed around you in too fast movements, halting all at once leaving you dizzy and stumbling. Legs wobbled as you attempted to step, stomach lurching as you doubled over. Barry had a can in front of you just in time for you to spill out stomach acid and what remained of a cocktail, grimacing at the sounds of your gagging.

The tell tale crackling of lighting had heads snapping to the doorway, hearts lurching as that eerie doppleganger made himself known. The smirk on his mangled face was cocky as he sauntered in, eyeing each and every horrified face. Savitar took pride in the way they tensed, the way they all seemed to skirt around you as if that would make a difference. Oh how feeble they all were. “Hand her over and I’ll let you all live,” He mused, reveling in the games he played with them.

“Like hell that’s gonna happen,” Barry quipped, refusing to let his future self have it easy.

“We can do it the hard way Barry. I’m faster than you, stronger. I am a GO-”

“Oh shut UP!” You whined, pushing past the Scarlet Speedster as you stumbled out from the protective little bubble your friends made. “You, sir,” you slurred as you waved a finger in Savitar’s face. “May fuggoff!” Stumbling back, a hand pressed to your lips as you felt your stomach gurgle. You weren’t about to let that stop your tirade though. “You think you kin juss waltz in here like you own the place? Newsflash, bro, you don’t. Dis my house,” you quipped, clapping to make your point. “In here, talm bout ‘I’m a God. Grrrr bow down to me,’“ you mocked the man you had all come to fear. “Like, who even are you?”

Savitar’s jaw clenched as he glared at you, hands fisting at his sides. Embarrassment began to crawl along his neck, staining his cheeks a soft red as you taunted him. How dare you?! You were meant to fear him!

“And another thing!” You started, turning back to him as you stumbled your way over. “You’re a digghead!” you fumbled the words as syllables began to slide together, finger jabbing the self-proclaimed God of Speed in the chest. “Oh wahhh, I didn’t like myself so I’m gonna go kill his wife. Like, talk bout small dick energy amirite?” you snorted, turning to your friends as you doubled over in laughter.

They all stared at you, wide eyed and slack jawed, unable to figure out just how they felt. On one hand it was hilarious, watching you verbally berate this so called God of Speed, on the other hand it was terrifying because they knew how ruthless the future Barry Allen could be.

“Should....I be offended by that?” Barry whispered softly to Cisco who merely shook his head with a small shrug. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what to make of all of this.

Glaring down at you, Savitar felt his heart fumble in his chest. He didn’t like the way you talked to carelessly to him, the way there was no fear in your eyes. Surely you knew he was the one to end your life. Why weren’t you acting like it! “I’ll slaughter your entire family if you’re no careful,” he ground out, hoping that, at the very least, would put you in your place.

Whirling around you stood straight, arms out beckoning him to prove it. “Let’s do it baby, I know the law!”

[our-smooty]

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 9

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags:  Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

Things improved slowly. Not the being sick, or the dizziness, that was still rubbish, but between him and Aziraphale. Aziraphale was much more mindful of his hovering and Crowley was getting used to actually asking for things instead of keeping everything to himself. It made life a lot easier, even if it was uncomfortable. He didn’t have to pretend to be alright all the time for one thing, which meant he didn’t have to feel as bad about not taking Aziraphale out for meals and dates. He didn’t have to, though he still did sometimes. It was something that still kept him up some nights, the idea that he wasn’t giving Aziraphale enough anymore. If that was the case, then the angel hadn’t said anything, but Crowley still worried. 

His morning sickness hadn’t faded, though the tea and herbs helped in the moment. Most mornings and many early afternoons had been spent with a bucket at the bedside and Crowley’s head pillowed in Aziraphale’s shoulder as he took tiny bites of cracker and even tinier sips of tea. Usually by midafternoon he was feeling alright enough to get up and putter around the garden, though with the quickly changing weather there wasn’t much to be done for the plants themselves. And doing the raking by hand was a little more than he could manage most of the time. So he did what he could without throwing up everywhere, and used a miracle for the rest. 

About a month after Alfie’s birth Crowley was sick--no pun intended--to death of being laid up in bed. He wanted to go out and do things again, especially with Aziraphale. There had to be something they could go out and enjoy together. He could have texted Anathema for ideas, but after the way he stormed out a few weeks ago… well it wasn’t high on his to-do list. 

“Angle,” he whined one afternoon as they were once again relaxing on the sofa. Aziraphale had his nose in a book, one he’d read and re-read enough times to have it memorized. “Angle I’m bored. I want to go do something.”

Aziraphale hardly looked up from his book. “Like what dear? We tried going out to eat last week but the food and the smells made you sick. We tried walking around town and you nearly collapsed fifteen minutes in. I thought we agreed to take some time to relax, at least until you’re feeling better.”

“I am feeling better,” Crowley said with all the petulance of a 4-year-old child. “I didn’t get sick at all this morning, did I?”

Aziraphale thought for a moment, and Crowley felt the beginnings of a victorious smile on his own lips. “No, and you were out of bed earlier than normal. I guess if you’re up to it we could--”

“Yes! Whatever it is yes just get me out of this house!” Crowley sprung up, his clothes magically shifting into the jacket and skinny jeans he usually wore out. Around the house he’d taken to leggings and comfortable shirts out of convenience, so it had been a little while. His trousers felt tighter than normal which made him wiggle his hips with discomfort. “Now. Let's go now.”

Aziraphale blinked for a moment, startled by Crowley’s sudden movements, but smiled fondly. It made something in Crowley’s stomach match the funny feeling in his hips. “You don’t even know what I was going to suggest dear.” The book was set aside anyway, it’s well-worn and well-repaired cover thumped softly against the wood. “What if I was going to say we should go to that town hall meeting being held in the village?”

“You wouldn’t.” Crowley narrowed his eyes, the yellow slits piercing and unwavering. “You hate those meetings just as much as I do. What was it you called Mrs. Thompson after the last one? A fussy old bi--”

“Yes, well. I wasn’t going to suggest that. Just teasing you dear,” Aziraphale interrupted, a tinge of pink to his cheeks. “I thought we might take the Bently out, down some of the country roads. Take in the Autumn leaves.”

Crowley hopped from foot to foot excitedly. “Good, good. We can do that, let me get my keys.” In his eagerness he nearly tripped over his own feet as he grabbed his jacket--the one Aziraphale had gotten him that always seemed to radiate the warmth his own reptilian body couldn’t. Behind him he could hear Aziraphale’s exasperated sigh. “I’m good, I’m fine. Let's go.”

They drove around for hours, Aziraphale admiring the changing leaves and Crowley enjoying the feel of the Bently’s engine rumbling smoothly beneath him. The back roads were completely clear, which may have been Aziraphale’s doing, he wasn’t sure, but it meant that he could go as fast as he wanted, his previously bland mood bleeding out through the shaking steel. There was something about driving that was so different from any other mode of transportation and pushing his car to the limit of its speed capabilities always gave him a special kind of rush. 

“Did you see that oak back there? What a lovely shade of orange. Oh and that maple! Simply gorgeous! I do wish I’d thought to bring my camera.” Crowley was only half listening because the road was getting particularly windy and he needed to focus. “We could have a picnic when you’re feeling up to eating more.”

“Mhm,” Crowley answered, taking a particularly tough corner nice and smoothly. A tingle went up his spine at the satisfaction of a well pulled off maneuver. “Sounds good.”

Aziraphale happily flapped his right hand in Crowley’s direction. “Wonderful! Hopefully that will happen soon, Anathema did say hers got much better after the first trimester.”

Crowley still wasn’t paying attention, but he knew that wouldn’t deter his angel from nattering on for the foreseeable future. Aziraphale could, and would talk for hours uninterrupted, especially on a topic he was passionate about. Picnics and food in general were definitely two of those topics. 

“Do you remember those little sandwiches we had last year, at that delightful bristo with the sunny garden patio? I know you say watercress is boring but you have to admit the bread really balanced it out. Anyway, I recently found this bakery the next town over and their bread is so much like the one from the bistro I thought I might take a crack at making a few sandwiches of my own. And wouldn’t that be lovely, making a picnic spread by ourselves instead of ordering the food. Even if we have so many wonderful options…”

Crowley let Aziraphale’s voice fade into the background, a familiar drone. One that he’d enjoyed for millenia and it was comforting in a way. Between the rattle of the Bently’s frame and the sound of Aziraphale’s voice he was essentially, exactly where he wanted to be. Exactly where he needed to be to relieve the intense boredom that had plagued him while he’d been basically house-bound

“--and we could bring a comfortable chair for you; I read somewhere that carrying a child could be dreadful on the back. But we could also do something else if you prefer, maybe a trip somewhere warm where those dates you still like are in season?”

Of course Aziraphale was always thinking about him and his comfort. Things had been easier since Crowley started asking for things and Aziraphale started offering instead of just doing. It made accepting the angel’s care less complicated if his brain couldn’t skew it as charity or pity. If he asked for it, then he could control it, control how much other people were involved. Sometimes he almost wanted to laugh at how stupid it was but it worked.

An unsettling wobbling feeling in his stomach made Crowley ease up off the accelerator for a few moments. Was it the morning sickness making itself known as they were easing into mid-afternoon? Because the name “morning sickness” was complete and utter bollocks as far as Crowley was concerned. It didn’t feel like he was going to be sick though. Move like a restless moving feeling. Maybe it was because his pants weren’t fitting right? He couldn’t think of any other reason for the weird feeling, so he pushed it aside and slammed the pedal to the floorboards once again. Aziraphale continued on talking. 

“--and a picnic would let us relax and enjoy the scenery, which I can only see a little of now. I do wish you’d slow down, at least on the turns darling. There’s so much we’re probably missing!”

“Trees, fields, idyllic countryside views. Not missing much we don’t see every day,” Crowley quipped, though he may have still slowed down a tad over the next few minutes. Aziraphale shot him a sidelong smile and reached a hand across the gear-shift to rub at Crowley’s knee.

“Are you feeling better? You’ve been rather quiet.” Crowley’s manic driving had taken them far out of town, so far they were surrounded by fields filled with free-roaming cattle. He let the Bently roll to a more socially acceptable pace because he knew Aziraphale had a bit of a soft spot for cows. The strange wiggling in his stomach continued, and he wanted to be able to pull over and get out quickly if he had to be sick. Vomit in the Bently was not something Crowley wanted to deal with. 

“Think so. Stomach’s feeling… weird but not in the usual way,” Crowley answered. Just the fact he was feeling more talkative was a clear sign that the strange mood from earlier was passing. “Not like I’m gonna be sick or anything, so don’t worry about your trousers.”

Aziraphale laughed, a beautiful tinkling sound like antique teacups against their saucers. “Thank you for the reassurance, my love. Do you think you might be hungry? I know you don’t usually go in for that sort of thing often but with the baby your body might be craving things outside your usual fair.”

Another, more insistent fluttering feeling had Crowley gasping and bringing a hand to his stomach. It didn’t hurt, and it wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but there was something strange about it. “Think my trousers are too tight. They didn’t fit right this morning anyway.”

In fact, the button of his pants was digging into his belly right this moment and that was unpleasant. One hand still on the steering wheel he tried to adjust the waistband with the other. It didn’t help. “S’like they’re too small, but these are the same ones I always wear. Miracle must have gone wrong.”

Crowley kept his hand on his belly, just over his shirt and under his jeans. And that was when he felt it. The wiggling feeling from before but now he could feel it against his palm too.

“Holy shit!” he yelped slamming his foot against the break and making them both shoot forward against their seatbelts (an addition Aziraphale had insisted upon when they began taking regualr drives together). “What the fuck?!”

“What in Heaven’s name was all that about?” Aziraphale asked, his hands still braced against the roof and dash. “You’re lucky no one was behind us!”

Normally Crowley would have snapped about how he would have known if there had been someone behind them because he was a semi-omniscient being. But this time there was no witty or snarky comeback because something was moving inside him. He hadn’t done a lot of research about pregnancy--it was still a little too much for him, reading all that human stuff--but this had to be--it really was—

“They’re moving,” he whispered, awe and fear and trepidation colouring his voice. “Angle, they—”

Aziraphale’s hand immediately shot from Crowley’s knee to his belly, right alongside Crowley’s own. They both waited silently, breath held until there was another flutter. If Aziraphale had been a human he probably wouldn’t have felt it. The look on his face when he did made Crowley infinitely glad they both had heightened senses. 

“My word…” Aziraphale breathed, bodily leaning over the gearshift so he was pressed up against Crowley’s side. The atmosphere in the car was heavy, but in the way a warm blanket in the early morning is heavy--soft, comfortable, and warm. “Crowley that’s them! That’s our baby. Oh Lord, that’s them.”

“Yeah…” For some reason his eyes were stinging. The Bently had put itself into park and was keeping the engine idle by itself, so he used his other hand to wipe at the quickly-forming tears. Up until now he hadn’t really realized, or he had but not all the way, that was their baby inside him. This was happening and Aziraphale was right there with him, just as excited and awed as Crowley was. “I didn’t know--little shit’s been dancing down there all morning and I didn’t--”

“Don’t call our baby that, Crowley!” Aziraphale complained, shooting him a scolding look. Crowley rolled his eyes and huffed.

“They can’t hear us angel, s’not a big deal,” he insisted. Another movement under their hands stopped their bickering in its tracks. Crowley grunted softly as the squirming intensified, then ended again. “Active one, aren’t they?”

“I love you,” Aziraphale said abruptly. He pressed his free hand to Crowley’s chest, just over where his heart was hammering away. “Crowley this is--you’re amazing.”

“No you,” Crowley shot back, laughing weakly. Tears began to streak down his face but for once, they were happy ones and not sad. “This’s real, isn’t it?”

He looked over at Aziraphale just in time to catch the possessive, loving look on his face. Suddenly Crowley realized that they both had a hand part-way down his jeans, pulled off to a secluded spot at the side of the road. Pressed close together like this Crowley couldn’t help but lean in, seeking the warmth and comfort and closeness to his lover. His sensitivity to smells had been decreasing as well, and so for the first time in a few weeks, he took a long, indulgent sniff of Aziraphale scent without trepidation. 

“Are you just realizing that now dearest?” Aziraphale must have noticed Crowley’s reaction to him because there was a little bit of teasing to his voice. “And are you sniffing me? I do hope my cologne isn’t too strong for you.”

“You smell nice,” Crowley squeaked as Aziraphale’s hands both shifted down. The one on his chest landed around his right hip, while the one in his trousers gently traced the very top of his pants. “A-ah, you—?”

Aziraphale hummed, his fingers dipping under Crowley’s pants. “Seeing you like this… it makes me want to have you again and again.” An embarrassingly garbled noise escaped his throat. “I love you so much. You are my everything Crowley.”

“Ngk,” Crowley moaned. He wished he could be as good with words as Aziraphale, a least when it came to things between them. Aziraphale was always better at the softer things, at being a good person, even if he could be a bastard at times. “We’re in public?”

“Not really, we’re far out from any of the farms and I haven’t seen another car for at least an hour now. But if you don’t want to, we can drive back and—”

“No no I want to, just let me—” he popped the button on his jeans open and sighed in relief. “Much better. You can keep going now.”

Aziraphale laughed again and his mouth was so close to Crowley’s neck he could feel the vibrations. “Better turn the car off then, hadn’t we? And maybe we should move to the back seat, there’d be more space at least.” But Aziraphale’s hand was still moving further down his front, cupping his sex in his warm palm. The tips of his fingers dipped ever so slightly between Crowley’s lips, a tantalizing tease. 

“Get your hands out of my pants then,” Crowley grumbled, making no effort to remove Aziraphale’s hands himself. In fact, he may have willed the driver's seat to recline a little bit more, to give the angel more space to work. The car shut itself off, and the music cut out completely, leaving them in silence save for their breathing and the sound of wind outside. 

“You don’t want me to do that,” Aziraphale sing-songed, pressing a little firmer with his fingers so he was brushing Crowley’s clit. “At least the car’s off, it wouldn’t do to be creating pollution.”

“N-no.” Crowley was answering out of habit, rather than actual understanding. He hadn’t been wet before, but that was quickly changing. Aziraphale’s touch, familiar at this point, always caused a sort of reaction in Crowley’s body. One that screamed more more more. “Aziraphale, need you—!”

“I’ve got you my dear,” Aziraphale assured him, stilling petting with the barest pressure against Crowley’s clit and labia. “I can never get enough of you.”

“H-hedonist,” Crowley stuttered, ending in a cry as Aziraphale gave one firm press to his clit. Bastard.

“Call me what you want to, but I think you benefit from my overindulgences too, don’t you Crowley?” Crowle squirmed against the leather seats, wishing that for once he’d left the house in his trackies. “Well anyway, you don’t seem to be complaining.”

Crowley groaned, his hips bucking and twisting impatiently. Aziraphale tutted and put more pressure on Crowley’s hips, pinning him to the seat. He loved it when Aziraphale showed off his angelic strength. Crowley was better built for sneaking and slithering while Aziraphale had once been a warrior. Though it had been millenia since the angel had wielded a weapon of any kind, that strength remained and Crowley greedily hoarded the opportunities to experience it.

“Fuck, fucking get on with it!” he whined. His fingers wrapped around Aziraphale’s wrists, urging them deeper. The crotch of his pants was soaked through and his slick was beginning to make his thighs damp and sticky. It was gross and uncomfortable and he needed more of it right now. 

“Oh very well.” Aziraphale pulled back completely which made Crowley’s eyes shoot open in shock. “Don’t look like that dear. If we aren’t going to make it to the back seat I thought this might be the most appropriate.” He settled back into the passenger seat and patted his lap. Crowley’s mouth went dry; one of his most overplayed fantasies from back before they were together was Aziraphale fucking him in the Bently. They’d just never gotten around to it. Until now.

He’d deny it if Aziraphale ever brought it up, but Crowley made a mess of climbing over the space between the seats and into the angel’s lap. When he settled down on Aziraphale’s thighs the angel was obviously trying to hold back a chuckle. Crowley glowered. 

“Like to see you do that with your trousers half down,” he grumbled, redfaced and out of breath. “Aziraphale, come on, don’t make me beg.”

“Not this time, maybe later. I would like to ride you, make you ask for my permission to come while I use you for my own pleasure,” Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. He snapped his fingers and both of them were bottomless, putting Crowley’s drooling pussy on full display. At least Aziraphale seemed to be just as excited, a messy dollop of precome pooling at the tip of his member. “It has been a little while and I must confess I’ve been thinking about it far too much.”

“Yes,” Crowley hissed, grinding down so Aziraphale’s cock rubbed against the full length of his cunt. “Wanna be in you, wanna give you whatever you want.”

Aziraphale grabbed his hips and stilled his rocking. “Right now I want you to be still and let me set the pace, alright? I want to look at you. Is that alright dearest?” If he hadn’t been seconds away from losing it, Crowley would have laughed. Didn’t Aziraphale know he could do anything with his body, that Crowley’s entire form (metaphysical bits included) belonged to him? Crowley hissed out an affirmative noise and stopped struggling against the angel’s grip. 

“Good, thank you love. Thank you.” Aziraphale guided Crowley down, his cock catching against the rim of his entrance. “I love you, you wondering creature. With everything in my being, Crowley, everything I am, you are so precious to me.”

The praise would have been a little much if it hadn’t been making Crowley melt like ice cream in the sun. Loath as he was to even think about it, there were still times where he doubted Aziraphale, where he needed reassurance. Aziraphale was more than happy to provide those things and did so profusely. Especially when they were having sex. 

“Ngk—!” Crowley screeched as Aziraphale pulled him down those last few inches so they were hip to hip. No matter how many times they did this it always took a few seconds for Crowley to adjust, to get over the overwhelming feeling for Aziraphale inside him. It wasn’t even that the angel was too rough, or too big, he was just Aziraphale. And this was something he never thought he could have, but it turned out he could and sometimes that was a little bit too much. 

“Put your arms around my neck dear, there’s a lamb,” Aziraphale murmured into the demon’s neck. His voice was strained like it was taking a huge amount of effort for him to keep still. “Hold onto me now, I’ve got you.”

Crowley did as he was asked, locking his arms tight around the angel’s neck like he would never let go. To be perfectly honest, he might not; being attached to Aziraphale for all eternity didn’t sound too bad. And this way the angle was better, each thrust adding fuel to the fire burning inside him. Who cared if the leather seat was sticking to his forearms and there was probably going to be some significant staining, this was everything he ever wanted. 

“Sssssshit Aziraphale!” he hissed, his eyes drawn down to the space where they were connected. Everything was slick and messy, mostly thanks to him. “I wanna--mmm!--wanna kiss you, angel.”

Aziraphale didn’t bother saying anything, which Crowley appreciated gently. He rather gracelessly flopped forward, his hips still driving into the demon even as he connected their lips. Somebody, the spark of Aziraphale’s lips on his was almost more intense than the sensation from below. Almost. Crowley focused hard on kissing back as much as he could without losing control and letting his corporation begin to slip. It wouldn’t do for his fangs to pop out and cut his angel. 

As they kissed their near-frantic pace slowed to match the slide of their lips and tongues. The feel of Aziraphale weighing him down and keeping him still as he pummeled up into him made Crowley moan helplessly against the angel’s mouth, powerless to do nothing but kiss back and take whatever Aziraphale wanted to give him. Crowley wanted everything and anything.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped into the almost non-existent space between them. “Crowley, God, you beautiful creature how did I ever--how are you mine?”

“Always yours,” Crowley gasped rawly. “Since fucking--ah shit!--Eden. Since Eden--!” And even though they’d had a decade together it still made him ache with the satisfying completion of finally being with his other half. Aziraphale’s hands came down to smooth over Crowley’s chest and belly, pausing at the slight swell between his hips. 

“Are you close dear?” His tone was breathless and desperate. “Please, I can’t--not much more--”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Crowley keened, arching his back to get a better angle. “Close--need a little m--!” Aziraphale’s hand slipped down to circle Crowley’s clit once, then twice. That was all Crowley needed to come, a wordless gasp wrenching its way out of his gut as his muslces clenched and released. Aziraphale followed soon after with an unflattering whimper, like he’d been waiting for Crowley to go first and barely hanging on himself. In the immediate seconds afterward Crowley couldn’t help himself from nestling his head in Aziraphale’s shoulder and nuzzling. 

Aziraphale shifted so he was half lying on the seat, half lying on top of Crowley. One of his hands, the one that wasn't covered in various fluids, splayed over Crowley’s stomach possessively. 

“Alright love?” Aziraphale asked, his voice husky and sleepy. Crowley answered with a satisfied wiggle and a huff, suddenly realizing he was still wearing his sunglasses and they were terribly smudged. With a floppy hand he batted them off and onto the floor, where they’d probably be lost forever. “I assume that’s good?”

“Very,” Crowley hummed, returning to nuzzling against Aziraphale’s neck. “Think all that rocking put them to sleep though, it’s quiet down there.”

“I can feel that. It really is quite extraordinary, isn’t it?” Aziraphale was petting his belly like some sort of dog but Crowley let it slide because it felt pretty nice. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Pshh, you were perfect.” As their bodies began to wind down the stickiness and general prevalence of sweat began to make itself known. “Not sure the Bently made it out unscathed through. The seats sticking to me.”

“I think that may be my fault. Here, let me.” Aziraphale snapped briskly and the mess disappeared. They were also both dressed, though Crowley’s skinny jeans were replaced with a pair of the comfy stretchy trousers he kept at home.

“Mmm, don’t wanna drive home now.” Crowley was very comfortable, and just a little (a lot) sleepy. “Think I’ll take a nap.”

“On the side of the road?” Aziraphale asked, like they hadn’t just had sex on the same roadside less than ten minutes ago. “My dear you’ll get a sore back all cramped up like this.”

Crowley grumbled unhappily and tightened his grip on the angel. “Then miracle us home. Cause I’m not driving and if you drive we won’t get home for hours.” For as much as Aziraphale complained about Crowley going over the speed limit, he wasn’t much better at following the rules of the road. He’d learned to drive in a time before regulations and decided that there wasn’t much point trying to keep up with the every-changing rules of the road. What resulted was a strange mix of driving under the speed limit while completely ignoring most rules and driving etiquette norms. Crowley had banned him from driving the Bently outside of emergencies in the mid-’50s after a few hair-raising outings. 

Aziraphale tutted. “Such a frivolous use of a miracle.” But still, Crowley heard him click his forefinger and thumb. When he cracked open an eye he could see the eves of their cottage through the window. “Did that little trip make you feel better?”

“Much,” Crowley said, a smile in his voice. “You couldn’t just put us inside though?” He knew he was being a whiney brat, but he also felt like he deserved a little bit of pampering. Nevermind that Aziraphale had basically been waiting on him hand and foot for the past month. 

“Spoiled serpent,” Aziraphale said fondly, tucking a sweaty hank of fiery hair behind Crowley’s ear. “I think it’ll be good for you to get up and stretch. Besides, I didn’t want to risk forgetting the Bently behind, I know that would set you off.”

“It wouldn’t let itself get left behind, it knows better,” Crowley grumped, but still he unwrapped himself from the angel and sat up on his elbows. With his shirt back on he couldn’t see the bump anymore, but he knew it was there. It was only going to get bigger too, and eventually no amount of clothing would be able to cover it up. The thought made him blush a little. 

“Are you feeling ok? You’re looking a little flushed,” Aziraphale asked, his brow furrowing a little. Crowley nodded and looked away; it’d be easy to blame his glowing cheeks on the return of his morning sickness, but he really didn’t want to spend another week in bed. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just uh, we’re not gonna be able to do stuff like this once it gets bigger, are we?” Aziraphale sat back as well, maneuvering around so he could shuffle over and get the door.

“I guess not. We’d better make good use of the time we have now.” Crowley squeezed himself through the open door. Immediately Aziraphale’s hands were back on him, one grabbing his hip and the other taking his hand. Crowley loved when the angel was like this, when it was like he couldn’t bear to be without him for even a minute. It soothed the still-healing edges of ragged want in his soul. After ten years of constant tending that wound had only just begun to scab over and it would probably take many, many more for it to fully close. But he was getting there, slowly.

“Round two, after we take a bath?” he asked, leaning into Aziraphale’s embrace. The laugh that startled out of him was surprised and maybe just a little turned on.

“Fine, but this time I want to do what we discussed before. Is that agreeable?” Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled with mischeif while Crowley smirked slightly. 

“As if you need to ask. You know I like being inside you.”

“Marvellous. Let's get going then dearest!” Not the way Crowley had expected to alleviate his anxiety and boredom, but maybe exactly what he’d needed.

[momoiina]

Bad Habits

A/N: Hey, this is my first oneshot here, this time it’s KawaSara, I hope you enjoy! Also tw for mention of alcohol and smoking.

Beta read by: @kairi-chan :)

Sarada doesn’t think about it the first time she returns home from a date with Kawaki. Their ‘date’ wasn’t even a real date, nothing fancy, no dinner, just Sarada running into him into the corner store on her way home from work. However, spending time with Kawaki means spending time surrounded by cigarette smoke. When she ran into him, he’d been buying a pack of cigs and a bottle of vodka without noticing her at first. She’d called out to him, as he’d been turning the bottle of liquor in his hands with thoughtful eyes, but carefully not to startle him. She didn’t want him to drop the bottle.

“I didn’t see you,” he told her without her asking. Anybody else who wasn’t used to Kawaki’s behavior might have felt insulted, but to Sarada is aloof personality wasn’t new. She knows him well enough not to take everything he says to heart.

“Yeah, I’m just on my way back home from work,” she explained, “It was a long day.” She held up the items in her hands – a sandwich filled with tonkatsu and salad and a can of Calpis. When Kawaki didn’t say anything further, she tacked on. “I see you’re buying alcohol, yes? I take it some of the boys are coming over to your place?”

“Nah, it’s just for me.”

Oh, she thought but didn’t know what to say from there on. Kawaki’s unhealthy habits weren’t new for her, she’s spent enough time with Boruto to understand that. Boruto and his foster brother had been 13 and 15 respectively when the latter arrived home high. Kawaki hadn’t just took a drag on a cigarette, but a joint, his red eyes had been proof for that. Naruto had been mad, Hinata mostly just concerned. Concerned what caused Kawaki to take up drugs, concerned that Boruto and Himawari would do it too. Good for Hinata, that worry never became true. Boruto grew to loathe drugs, whereas Himawari was like sunshine, too kind and good to get tangled up in anything bad.

So no, it didn’t surprise Sarada that the boy would buy himself a bottle of vodka, but it still made her sad. Who likes drinking alcohol alone by themselves? 

Lonely people.

“Say…” she began and leaned closer with a gentle smile on her lips, “If I brought my own alcohol and my own snacks, would I be an unwelcome guest in your home tonight?”

His head didn’t even move in her direction as he silently kept his eyes on the row of bottles, all filled with liquor of all kinds. “Do you even like alcohol?” he asked her. “Last I know, you’re daddy’s little girl who doesn’t mingle with the bad boys.”

“Hey, I do like alcohol. I may not like pure vodka, but I do have a certain taste for liquor,” she scoffed. “I happen to like plum wine just fine.”

“Plum wine?” His voice wasn’t loud, but she could hear him disapproving of her choice of alcohol. “You’re not going to drink plum wine at my place.”

Sarada tried very hard not to let her surprise show, but that he’d been alright with her visiting him hadn’t been what she expected. In the end, Kawaki had taken another bottle of rum with him, just for her, because he didn’t want to let her drink plum wine.

His home was curiously impersonal. When he had moved out of the Uzumaki home to go to college, Hinata put up a few ornaments in the apartment to make it look homely, but Kawaki couldn’t have cared less for it. Now the apartment wasn’t unclean, but his shoes were scattered over the ground, there were empty beer cans all over the kitchen counter and an ashtray filled with ash and dirt in the living room. There was a joint next to it, unlit, and Sarada had expected him to smoke it while she was there.

He’d only puffed on his cigarettes though.

Now that she is home, the scent of smoke comes off all her clothes, even her hair, and taking a shower and putting on a different sets of clothes doesn’t erase the smell in the air. Chocho comes out to ask her where she has been and why she is home so late – she stops dead in Sarada’s room, with a scrunched up nose and disapproving facial expression.

“Oh, girl, please don’t tell me you started smoking. I don’t want to share my dorm with someone who smokes!” she exclaims as she looks at her friend.

“No, don’t worry, I wasn’t the one smoking,” Sarada says, trying to calm her down.

“Oh?” Chocho quipped. “Who was smoking then?”

“Kawaki.”

It’s not often that Chocho disapproves of a boy so much. Normally, Chocho is delighted when Sarada talks about any boy – she firmly believes Sarada spends too much time with her nose in books, too occupied to take full advantage of her college life. Going out to bars, the movies, concerts with dates.

Kawaki is a different story though, mostly because of his cold behavior towards outsiders. Plus, his bad habits add up to everything and that results in Chocho’s dislike of him. In their inner social circle, there isn’t another boy she would have preferred less to spend time with Sarada.

“Oh, Sarada, why were you spending time with him? Did you…guys have a date? A real date?” Chocho questions with her hand waving in front of her nose to get rid of the nasty smell.

“If you think eating a sandwich and watching him smoke counts as a date, then yes.”

“Oh, no, that is not a date. A date is when you call someone and you put on nice clothes. That is a date! You two just hung out.”

“Alright, we hung out then,” Sarada replies. Hanging out with Kawaki had been less exciting than she had expected it to be, so she cannot call it a date. It’d been mostly them drinking, him smoking while she ate her sandwich and talked about her day. Nothing fun or exciting, and yet it’s the highlight of her day.

“If you ever hang out with him again, get rid of the smell before you come here, please!” Chocho tells her before leaving her alone again.

Sarada wants to tell her that no one can make Kawaki drop his bad habits.

Days later, Sarada is about to cross the street on her way from class and on her way to work. Her day has been stressful enough with two exams, one following the other. With the first one she has a good feeling, she probably aced that one, but the second one went worse and she cannot judge herself properly. With an angry huff, she blows a strand of hair out of her face and looks up.

At the other side of the street is a dark figure on a motorcycle and the person is watching her. Her instincts tell her to avoid staring at the man, but curiosity takes over and she peeks at him again. He’s tall, broad shoulders covered with a leather jacket – and he’s starting his motorcycle. It comes to life with a roar and it takes him a swift curve to pull up next to her. He looks at her through his helmet and she realizes – this is not a stranger but Kawaki, with his brow piercing and dark stare. Maybe he is only wearing some sort of protective padding beneath his leather jacket and that is why his shoulders appear so broad, bigger than usual.

She gives him an easy smile.

“Do you need directions?” she asks him with a grin. Seeing him again is more entertaining to her than it should have been.

“No. You’re on your way to work. Get on.” It’s not a request, but not a demand either, at least that’s what Sarada sees it as when he talks to her. She knows him well enough to understand that this is an offer that she can take or leave – and she wants to take it, she does.

With all his bad behavior, Sarada knows that Kawaki has never been known to be an unsafe driver and she can only hope that he’s neither high nor drunk. She takes the second helmet that Kawaki offers her and after putting it on with fumbling hands, gets on the bike and embraces him tightly with her arms around his waist. He smells of smoke, but also of leather and after shave. Maybe Chocho won’t be able to sniff him off of her tonight if everything goes well.

Traffic doesn’t allow them to race at high speeds through the streets, but it’s enough to get her to work 30 minutes early.

He lets her off in a narrow street next to the library that she works part time at. Her hair is a bit tousled and she frantically brushes through it with her fingers, but Kawaki’s hair is fluffier than usual. He doesn’t seem to mind or notice it himself though.

“Thank you for the ride, I’m here 30 minutes too early now.”

He only nods before taking out a cigarette from the pocket of his jacket. A quick jerk on the lighter and he’s smoking while keeping his eyes on her. Sarada wishes he wouldn’t have started, but she’s in no place to tell him anything.

“What were you doing there anyway? Are you going somewhere yourself?” Sarada inquires.

“Just wanted to go for a quick ride. Had nothing better to do,” he replies casually.

Feeling a bit hopeful, she asks, “Will you still be free when I get off from work?”

“When will you get off?”

“At around 6.”

Kawaki doesn’t reply, just nods and blows away some more smoke, his head pointedly turned away from her. The smoke doesn’t reach her. She bids him farewell and heads towards work before she can hear the engine of his motorcycle coming to life once more.

And he’s there, hours later, just like he said he would be. Sitting on his motorcycle, its engine running a cigarette between his lips. When Sarada approaches him, he throws it away. She takes the helmet he offers her without words and gets on behind him, her hands holding onto his waist.

This time traffic is less dense and he can race through the streets, Sarada needs to hold onto him more tight. She doesn’t want to fall down, nor does she want to let go. Even through the fabric of his jacket, she can sense his body’s heat, the way his muscles move when he leans into the curves. His abdomen tightens when he goes fast and becomes loose again when they wait at a red light.

He either doesn’t notice Sarada’s hands on his stomach, or he does and he doesn’t care. Either way, she lets go of him when they stop at her place and hops down from the bike. Looking back at Kawaki in his leather, the helmet and on the huge motorcycle, he makes an impressive figure.

“Thanks for driving me!” she laughs. “I am home so much earlier now.”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything. He’s always so quiet.

“Do you want to come in? Or are you busy tonight?”

It takes Kawaki so long to react to her question, she’s sure he didn’t hear her. But with a quick jerk he kills the engine and gets down from the bike. His hair is all tousled and dark and even if Sarada doesn’t say it, it looks good on him.

She makes the way forward, opening the front door and holding it open for him. Once inside, she explains the layout of the dorm to him. “Over there is the bath, at the end of the hall there is Chocho’s room – you better not go in there, she’d be mad – and over there is my room,” she adds with pink cheeks. Being alone with Kawaki in her bedroom has its implications.

“And over there is the door to the balcony, if you want to smoke.”

“Nah, not right now,” is his only reply.

How odd, Sarada thinks. The Kawaki she knows doesn’t miss a minute of smoking. Another memory from today makes its way into her mind again; when he was smoking after dropping her off, he made a point to blow the smoke away from her. And he hadn’t been smoking at all when he had come to pick her up.

She doesn’t mention it though, because it also may just be in her head. So she puts leftovers into the microwave and the two of them eat with occasional comments coming from Sarada.

At about 8 pm, Sarada decides that Kawaki needs to leave because Chocho might return any minute now.

“Thank you for bringing me to work today – and for bringing me home too,” she whispers and it’s the first time today that he gives her an expression other than his neutrally bored face.

“No problem,” he retorts and the his mouth gives off the faintest hint of a smirk. “I had nothing better to do anyway.”

“Yeah, I know you told me so already,” Sarada pouts. “Saying things like that isn’t very nice, you know?”

This time, he smirks properly. Kawaki leans in and his lips brush past Sarada’s within a heartbeat. He’s surprisingly soft, no stubble on his chin as far as she can make out – so he must have shaved today. Despite his cool demeanor, Sarada feels hot all over, her heart beating in her chest with a frantic rhythm.

She doesn’t get a second kiss that evening. He leaves right after that and she watches his motorcycle disappear into the traffic on his way downtown.

This time, when Chocho returns home, she doesn’t complain about his smell, and neither can Sarada anymore.

[fallinfor-youreyes]

Make Sure I Don’t Run Away

Slight canon divergence where everyone gets their own room (from the start) and relationships take a little bit longer to become established because I am a firm believer that the 'before they get together' part of a relationship is one of the best and most interesting parts, and feel we were slightly robbed. On Ao3.

Her hands are shaking. Which if she’s being honest is not something really new. But she’s not sure if they are shaking because of all the shit currently going on in their lives, of because she’s standing outside of Chase Stein’s room, the echo of her single knock falling into the space around her.

She should leave. Turn around and walk back to her room and her dinosaur and build herself a nest out of musty blankets and dusty pillows and pretend she did not just knock on Chase’s door. Because if she pretends hard enough then she didn’t, and if she didn’t she still has time to turn around and disappear into that safe nest of things that are not hers, and protect herself from telling him all of things she’s been planning to say since the night of the dance.

Gert’s hands are still shaking, but she has a plan now, and a dinosaur who is very willing to cuddle with her, so she drops her hands from where they are waiting at the door and spins on her heel, because she did not knock, and he is not going to come to the door, and she is going to be home free in just a few steps-

“Gert?”

Of course he would open the door. Of course she actually knocked. Because Gert from 5 minutes ago had a plan that ended with her knocking on his door and finally talking about this, about whatever happened and how it was driving her out of her mind, and typically she is very good at her plans. She thinks them over and calculates them and the consequences, and Gert from 10 minutes ago saw knocking as a good plan.

Current Gert is suddenly very upset at Gert from 10 minutes ago, and her stupid positivity and optimism.

She turns, only slightly, enough that she can spot him in her peripheral which is where she wants him to stay. Any more of him would send her already overburdened brain into overdrive.

“Sorry! I was just going to ask if you possibly had an extra pillow for Old Lace. But I remembered I saw one hiding beneath my bed, so I’ll be on my way. Night!” She waves at him over her shoulder, and then turns back toward the dark hallway, the one that will lead her to her room in under a minute if she speed walks.

“Gert,” he says her name again, this time more a sigh than a question, all too similar to the way he said her name when her hands found the buckle of his belt, and her entire body heats up ten thousand degrees, and she does not need this right now. Gert from 10 minutes ago did not factor this into the plan.

She turns to him, slowly, because walking away from him after he said her name like that would probably leave her with too many questions later. She sees him in her peripheral again but keeps turning, because once she’s started she can’t stop. It’s like when she kissed him. It’s like the small crack in the dam that shatters after weeks of rain (or in her case, 6 years of stupid feelings and stupid thoughts and a stupid heart that just would not quit him), and floods an entire city

He’s wearing that shirt with the chopped up sleeves, which give his arms way too much credit, and a pair of sweats that she’s never seen before, and he’s looking at her with that kicked puppy look that he used to use when they were kids. That look that means he’s upset, but he doesn’t know what to say. That look that means he wants to talk to her, but he’s afraid to mess it up.

She hates that she knows that look.

“Hi.” She says, curling her arms around herself, hiding herself from whatever is going to come next.

She messed them up before they even became a them, the dumb voice in her head telling her to shut him out instead of let him in because letting him in would mean getting hurt again. And she hates giving anyone that power. There’s only so many times she can let herself get hurt by those she cares about before it starts to becomes too much.

He chews on the bottom of his lip and it does nothing to calm the fire building in her stomach.

“I have an extra pillow. Do you want to come in and see if it works?”

It’s a simple question. A lie she can see right through. A lie to answer her lie, and for some reason it makes her smile.

“Sure.” She brushes past him into his room like she has a plan, like she is in control, but then she sees his bed and completely stops short.

Which results in his running straight into her, both of them stumbling until he steadies himself with his hands on her hips, and Gert has decided handling this is never going to happen.

It’s just a bed. They didn’t need a bed when they had sex a few weeks ago, so the sight of the bed should not be causing her cheeks to heat up, but they are. His hands, large and warm on her hips, are not helping.

She steps out of his reach, and picks the closest corner of the bed to balance herself on. Chase is still standing where he bumped into her, staring at the space between them.

It’s awkward.

She hates it.

She hates that all of this is because of stupid kiss and teenage hormones and the end of the world.

“So,” Gert swings her legs and looks anywhere but at Chase. Because he’s crossed his arms now, and those sleeves are a danger to womankind. And mankind. And all of human kind if she’s being honest.  “About that pillow?”

Chase laughs, and for a second, the tension in the room dissipates, and maybe just maybe, Gert thinks the whole having sex and then not really talking about the sex thing didn’t ruin this, didn’t ruin them completely. But then he finally turns his eyes on her, and her chest closes up, and all she can think about are his lips and his hands, and ‘one time thing’, and her mind is racing way to fast again.

“I don’t think you came here to find a pillow for Old Lace.” He takes a cautionary step forward, and when she doesn’t retreat he continues until he slips onto the bed next to her, not close enough to touch, but definitely close enough for her to feel his warmth. “Mainly because I’ve seen your room and I’m pretty sure you have already commandeered all of the free pillows.”

“Old Lace likes to be comfortable.” She says in defense, ready for quick come backs and verbal sparring, anything other than actually talking about what she wants to talk to him about. Anything other than the fact that she lied and really really wants to kiss him again.

And anything would be better than what they have been doing, which is mainly ignoring each other, or Gert staring at him long enough without knowing what to say that Molly has to punch her arm.

She wants to go back to them. To teasing quips and Chase’s defenses, and annoyed eye rolling, and casual hand touching, and conversations with just their eyes.

But that’s gone now because of something as silly as sex, that she definitely did not regret, and she wants them back. She wants him back. Chase Stein, dumb lacrosse star by day, secret engineering genius by night.

“Think she got that from you.” He nudges her shoulder and she she has to physically stop herself from jumping at the contact.

“I mean, technically, my parents made both of us, so maybe it runs in the family.”

It’s an accident, bringing up her parents but now she’s thinking about Dale and Stacey, and their homemade bran bars and how apparently they are also serial killers, and how she’s 16 and dealing with her feelings about a boy should be one of her biggest problems at the moment but it is so far from the truth.

“Not that I’m saying my parents reproduced a dinosaur, or that I am part dinosaur. Oh my god, am I part dinosaur? Is that why I’m connected with Old Lace?” She’s rambling. She knows she’s rambling, but maybe being part dinosaur would be easier than actually talking to Chase.

His hand drops to her knee, and her brain pushes all of it’s power to that single spot of contact.

“Gert.” He says her name again, like it’s half way between a prayer and sigh, and she hates it, because it makes her feel things she has been trying very hard to not feel. They are on the run, and the world is probably ending, and her parents are horrible people, and having feelings for Chase, or giving into her feelings for Chase, or doing just about anything with Chase just adds another level of shit to their new ever growing pile.

She doesn’t mean to flinch. She’s been thinking too much and her brain feels raw and exposed, and the way he says her name makes her think of dimmed lights and shuddered breathes and desperate hands.

His hand retracts, and he scoots over a few inches, and it’s incredibly thoughtful and perceptive of him, but it’s not what she wants.

“No, wait.” She grabs his hand, and all of the past tense Gert’s are cheering while present Gert is sort of trying not to throw up.

“It’s just,” she takes a deep breath and turns toward him, “We had sex.”

Chase’s eye brows almost disappear into his hair line, but he doesn’t say anything. Just watches her with his stupidly beautiful eyes, and runs his thumb over her knuckles in a way that is almost disarmingly comforting.

“And I don’t want that to make it awkward between us. But it has. And I lied. And I’ve been off my meds since we ran away, so everything it’s just a little bit too loud right now. And I thought it would be a good idea to talk about it. Because I couldn’t sleep. Because I kept thinking about your hands.” She tries to swallow the last part before it leaves her mouth but its too late.

But Chase doesn’t retreat. His thumb still runs over her knuckles and he give her those soft, soft eyes that make her insides turn to goo.

“What do you want?”

The words cut into her racing thoughts like a shot. In all her made up scenarios, he never asked that. She was expecting a quip about lacrosse or him to just shrug it off and tell her more about the fistagons. She wanted to lay out her thoughts and move on, leap over the hedge of ‘talk it out after the whole sleeping together thing’ so things can be smoothed out and get back to worrying about things like murder parents and how to dumpster dive.

“What?” She asks, because it’s the only word she can currently come up with.

Chase shrugs. “You said you don’t want it to be awkward between us. So what is it that you want?”

She’s searching his eyes because she knows what she wants, but she doesn’t know if she can handle it right now. Doesn’t know what he wants, what he’s feeling.

“I want to be friends.” She says, and she instantly feels like she’s sabotaging herself again, but she doesn’t know where he stands, and doesn’t want to make the awkward reappear because she can’t get her heart under control.

Something flashes in Chase’s eyes too fast for her to catch, and then she’s opening her big mouth before she can stop herself.

“What do you want?” She realizes she sort of sounds like a petulant child, but she doesn’t care. they’ve made it this far, and she’s the only one who’s really been talking.

Chase sighs and drops her hand so he can push his hair back, silently scooting and extra inch away from her again.

“I want to be friends too. So much. I like being your friend. It’s just,” he’s staring at his hands instead of her, and she can almost physically see his brain working on the right words to say. “Every time I look at you, or think about you, I just see you in the slip dress, which I’m pretty sure is haunting my dreams, and I realized I’m basically objectifying you which is wrong of me, and I need to work that out. Because it’s not fair to you. And it makes me feel like an asshole. I don’t want to be avoiding you, and I don’t want this to be awkward, but god Gert, that dress.”

She doesn’t mean to, but she breaks out into a smile, because he’s been thinking about her. But more than that, he’s been listening to her rants and speeches and her ideas, and that might even be better than anything else.

“That’s okay,” she says, probably too loud and too eager, her movement bringing her closer to him. “Because you’re aware of it. And actively trying to fix it. And totally not being an asshole at all. And if it makes you feel any better, sometimes I think about you with your shirt off. Have you seen your abs? I don’t think I understand how they are humanly possible.”

He’s smiling now, which is good. Gert likes it when he smiles. His entire face brightens, and he gets even more attractive somehow.

“So friends,” he says, tucking a loose piece of her hair behind her ear. “Who sometimes think about each other in potnetially compromising ways.”

“And who know each other’s O faces.”

She immediately wants to punch herself in the mouth, and squeezes her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to see his reaction. But she can feel his hand resting at the base of her neck, and hers is resting on his knee, and they literally just agreed to be friends but all she can think about is kissing him.

Gert slowly opens her eyes and he’s staring right at her, a mix between kicked puppy and hopeful.

They are close. Close as they have been since the dance.

Close enough that if she angles her head just slightly, they would be with in kissing distance.

Chase glances at her lips, and then then his eyes dip to her collar before scanning their way back to to her eyes.

She licks her lips.

His mouth is soft and solid against hers, and he wraps his free hand around her waist, and then suddenly they are vertical. They’ve done this once, rushed and hurried in the back room of the dance venue without a lock on the door, but she’s memorized the way his hands follows the line of her spine, and how he kisses her with feeling, with purpose, like this is something they’ve been leading up to for eternities.

She pulls back when his hand tangles with the bottom of her sweater. She’s breathless and feels like she might be on fire. Chase’s eyes are wide and his cheeks are pink, and she wants to kiss him forever.

But she can’t.

“This okay?” He asks, his hand frozen at the edge of her shirt, not moving until she gives the okay. And he’s so good. Respectful and adoring, and willing to do what she wants, and she can’t do this.

Not when they are on the run and tomorrow isn’t guaranteed and their parents may be in a murderous cult, and she hasn’t had a proper shower in way too long, and she has to be worried about surviving, about hiding, about Molly, about her dinosaur, about her friends.

She can’t add possibly dating Chase Stein into the mix. No matter how much she wants too. No matter how much her heart aches when she thinks of leaving when she knows where his hands could be in the next few minutes. When she knows she could just say yes, things are great and go back to kissing him.

For once in her life, she wants to do what her heart tells her, not her mind. But for possibly the first time in her life, doing that could be catastrophic. And they’ve had enough catastrophe for a life time.

“I don’t think I can handle anything more than friends at the current moment.” She says, more of a whisper than words, but he’s close enough that he hears her.

Something flashes over his face, but it’s gone in an instant, and his hand disappears from her waist and lightly dances along her cheek.

“I’m good with friends.”

Something tugs at her heart, and she presses her forehead against his. “What about friends who on occasion kiss each other because they need to get their sexual frustration out of their systems.”

“Whatever definition of friends you are comfortable with.” He smiles at her, and catches her mouth again, softer this time, without the tension from before. “Dating is so heteronormative anyway.”

“Do you even know what that means?” She asks, laughing.

“Not really. But you sounded really passionate about it when you said it.” Chase shakes his head, but he’s smiling, and she’s smiling, and for a few minutes, her brain isn’t screaming about what’s wrong with the world.

“I can explain it to you.” She promises, but Gert’s pushing herself off the bed and away from him. “Another time. I have a dinosaur in desperate need of a pillow”

Chase’s hand looks like it’s going to reach out to her, but he drops it back to his side. “Wouldn’t want Old Lace to get angry with me, now would we.”

Gert shakes her head and curls her arms around herself, much like she did early in the evening, but she’s not hiding anymore. She’s cold from the sudden lack of Chase Stein around her. But he’s smiling at her. Wide and dimpled and his mouth is still slightly bruised, and his cheeks are still a little red, and she really needs to leave before she climbs back on top of him and takes back everything she said about being just friends.

“Good night, Chase.” She says instead, forcing her feet to move toward the door.

“Night, Gert.”

She loves how he says her name. Like it holds millions of possibilities and tomorrows and forevers. Like it is everything in the universe.

She’s smiling like an idiot when she slips back into her room. Old Lace raises her head in question, but Gert just pats her head before collapsing on the bed.

She’s stupid happy. Comfortable. Possibly a little bit in love.

Old Lace nudges her knee and Gert stuffs her face into her pillow, replaying the good parts of the night over and over in her head.

Her hands have stopped shaking.

[marvel-medigeek-fics]

The H Word: Hits

Part 3/? 

SUMMARY: Freedom always comes with a fight, and trauma makes people do uncharacter things. 

WARNINGS: language, violence

A/N: I know the last part was really short, and I hope this makes up for it. I am TERRIBLE with stretching out my fics, but practice makes progress. 

If you are struggling with anything mentioned (or not mentioned) in this story, please reach out to someone. You don’t deserve to suffer, especially alone. 

Word Count: 1731

It was just over 24 hours until Bruce finally let you return to your room. I had been a long, draining time of looking over your shoulder to see if anyone was coming. And that fear was for a multitude of reasons: a stranger coming around, anyone who was not Nat or Wanda and sometimes Sam coming around even, but mostly, it was because of the overwhelming sense of no privacy. 

It had been 24 hours and you couldn’t even do the one things you wanted to do most. Cry, and cry alone. Your bed was a welcome sight and as soon as you could, you jumped into it, savoring the plushness and freshly washedness of your blankets. 

“Whoever washed my sheets deserves some brownie points,” you said, throwing off your shoes and climbing under the covers.  “I’ll take those brownies anytime, Y/N,” Sam called from the doorway. Nat and Wanda rolled their eyes in sync.  “He did not wash your sheets. I doubt he even knows how to turn on the washer.” Nat said.  “Yeah, or even what laundry detergent is, or where we keep it,” Wanda said, her accent coming out thicker than usual as she continued Nat’s sarcasm. 

“Thanks, you two. For you know, being my girl code enforcers, or whatever,” you said as they headed for the door to leave you with your new found privacy. 

“You’re always welcome. We wouldn’t want to be the girl code enforcers for anyone else,” they said together, a talent you hadn’t really noticed before.

—

The first thing you wanted to do was take a damn shower, cry a little (or a lot), and then sleep like a baby. So you turned the shower up as hot as you could manage, in an attempt to wash off every bit of shame, guilt and anger you’d felt over the past day or so. The feeling of the water was enough to make you cry from how good it felt. Crying about anything feels terrible, but less so in the shower. Crying, crying, crying. You probably lost more water than the shower was shooting at you because of how much crying you did in the shower. 

By the time you had dried off, arranged your hair off of your neck and wrapped up in the softest clothes you owned: a sweatshirt from a long forgotten trip, running shorts and a fluffy robe, the sun had gone down and the skyline was lit up like the thousands of stars you hadn’t seen in so long. 

The blankets felt even softer after a long, long, long shower and you soon fell asleep, despite your mind’s protests. Those tears and this day had taken a lot of you. 

—

The next morning was one of those mornings where everything looks like it is going to be perfect. The sun shone through your blinds and cast its beams over your bed. It was warm and your first thought was to go back to sleep, but as soon as your eyes had closed again, someone was banging on your door. 

“Rise and shine!!” whoever was yelling this sounded so happy to be alive, it instantly put you in a worse mood. Like how can you be so chipper in the morning? 

You tried to fall back asleep, but a different voice chimed through the room, FRIDAY. “Mr. Wilson is requesting your presence in the kitchen. He says it is very flipping important. He also said for me to emphasize the flipping.” 

You groaned and laid in bed, wishing that it was a day where Sam would not decide to be cute or something and would let you sleep instead. But you finally threw the covers off, determined to have a good day outside of bedrest. 

After pulling your hair up and out of your face and getting dressed in something a little more flattering than a huge sweatshirt and shorts, you finally trodded downstairs into the kitchen. 

The entire team stopped their boisterous conversations as soon as you walking in the door. They each stared or looked away in what they thought was reverence, but was really just plain awkward. “Um, hi, guys,” you said, trying to break the very uncomfortable silence. No one said anything for a moment, and you tried to figure out if you were dreaming or invisible or anything that wasn’t that everyone was staring at you in silence like they didn’t know how to speak anymore. 

The first one to speak was Clint, “Finally! Sam can serve us some pancakes!” So that was what Sam meant by flipping. With Clint’s words, the whole kitchen seemed to unfreeze and people hopped off the counters and sat at the table. 

“I made pancakes!” Sam said cheerfully, topping everyone’s plates with 3 pancakes. 

“Yeah, Sam, I’m so proud you didn’t burn the place down.” someone said. 

“Hey! These are actually good!” Clint said, shoveling another massive bite into his mouth. 

“No shit! I have had lots of time to perfect my pancake making skills.” Sam bit back. 

“So, how are you doing, Y/N?” Steve asked, taking a prim bite of his pancakes. 

You nodded slowly, “I’m surviving. A shower helped.” 

Nat, who was sitting next to you, placed her hand over yours, reminding you of the girl code you had established so long ago. Your stomach grumbled like a killer whale’s mating call, that is to say, it was very loud. 

So you started eating your pancakes and listening to the team. You didn’t feel like talking really, just listening. Pietro was too busy speed eating to do any talking and across the table, Clint and Bucky were trying to make ridiculous topping combinations and get Steve to gag. Blueberry syrup and applesauce. Pumpkin and matcha powder. Freeze dried strawberries, pop rocks, and melted ice cream. But Steve didn’t falter. 

Tony and Sam were perched on the counters, talking about something in hushed tones. Maybe it was just anxiety talking, but you could’ve sworn they were talking about you.

“After you’re done, we’re training,” Natasha said after you had finished off your second pancake. You didn’t usually train with the team, because you were merely a tactician, who stayed away from danger and told the team the best moves to take. 

“Training for what?” You had a decent idea, but asking questions never hurt anyone, especially harmless ones like that. 

“Self defense,” she said simply and before you could press for details, she was walking away. 

“Self defense,” you muttered, taking another bite. The table was now mostly empty, the only two left were Sam and Tony, still leaning against the counter. 

“Sooooooooo, Y/N,” Tony began, “What’s the plan for today?” 

“Eat these pancakes. Train with Nat. Hopefully, a nap later,” you replied, your answers clipped to try and stifle the awkwardness. 

“Sounds fulfilling.” 

“That’s not a word in your typical vocabulary.” you quipped, twirling the fork absently through your fingers. 

“Want some more pancakes?” Sam blurted out, rushing to you with another plate. 

“No, thanks. I have work to do with Nat.” You handed Sam your plate and walked out. 

—

It was 20 minutes before you made it down to the training room, where Nat was busy sparring with Bucky. Wanda was stretching or doing yoga, or something. Pietro was running. Steve was punching on a punching bag angrily. 

You cleared your throat and all at once all the activity ceased. You crossed your arms and tried to look badass, but it seemed to look a little like a little kid crossing their arms indignantly.  

“Let’s get started,” Nat said, pulling off the badass look with less juvenile-ness.  “Treadmill.”

So you took the treadmill nearest to you and started running, surprising you with how good it felt to move. 

After 20 minutes of running, you felt a little better, sweaty, and definitely in a more stable mental state. 

“Do you know how to throw a punch?” was Nat’s first question. 

“Yes, actually,” you replied, hoping to surprise her, but she just cocked an eyebrow and beckoned for you to demonstrate. 

So you punched. Thumb out, unlocked elbows, fast and clean. 

Bucky whistled, clearly impressed. “Ooh, hoo, tacty! You can throw a punch.” 

“Good,” Nat nodded approvingly, “Now for blocking.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she threw a left jab, which you easily ducked. Right jab met the same fate, with Nat’s wrist caught in your grip. You smiled, challenging her for more. 

“Okay, okay, okay!” Nat said, wriggling her arm out of your grip. “Let’s do this. And I won’t go easy on you this time.” 

You rolled your eyes and stood in position. 

“I’ll be the ref,” Bucky said. “DOn’t kill each other, don’t break any bones, mercy ends the fight and don’t forget I am stronger than both of you and have no problem beating up rule breakers. Let’s do this. Go!” 

You’d been watching Nat for a long time, it was kind of your job as tactician. So you knew her first punch would be a left hook. You ducked under her fist as it swung towards your face. The second punch was a combo: right hook, left uppercut, double right jab. Each of which you dodged and managed to throw in a beginner’s punch to her shoulder.  

The secret to fighting, you’d learned early on, was to know your opponent better than you know yourself. That hadn’t worked so well for you two nights ago, however, so you wanted some redemption. You sent a kickaround to the back of her knee and sent her toppling. But she was up in a second and another punch was thrown. She was angry. But anger makes you slow and one punch, two punches, sent her nose into full waterfall mode. A kick was next, sending her backward and blood splattering on the mat. 

In a flash you were over her, your eyes flaming and your muscles uncontrollable. “Let’s finish this, “ you snarled. Your brain was horrified by this, but it had no control anymore. It was almost like something else was taking over and kicking your normal brain out. 

“Y/N!” Bucky yelled, pulling you back from Nat. Her blood was on your hands and suddenly you were back. Waking up, alone, afraid and so impossibly shattered. 

You were sorry. Blood always means you’ve gone too far.