#➛ keep the tiger in the cage / nat

[expositicn]

nat && jackie ( @ashesrebirthed )

natalie sits on the edge of the bed, cheap silver rings scraping against the pristine nightstand as she plucks them up one by one and slides them back onto her fingers. the mattress moves slightly as the weight behind her moves but she doesn't turn around. not until jackie speaks. she glances over her shoulder, a half laugh dancing on the tip of her tongue. "seriously?"

it's not like this with jeff. nat turns around to face her companion properly, shoulders hunched slightly as she pulls her knees up to her chest. "i mean i'll take it as a compliment if it's in a good way." those were hard to come by from the mouth of jackie taylor. nat's eyes fall to her own feet, pressing them into the floral bedspread. so different from her own sheets at home - dark worn plaid. "are you trying to tell me you've never...?"

[happysparklingshadows]

𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚘 + 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝 (’96)

Warnings: Gore, Drug use, Being high and having sex, Smut, Mentions of threats of suicides and self hard, Cannibalism, and mature themes.

Note: So sexy and so hard to write for lol! I hope you like this! @zhivaxo​ @g1rlsriot

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Natalie is such a simp. They will hug you randomly, hold your hand while walking, kiss you when you aren’t paying attention, and draw shapes into your arm while you go to bed. Natalie will do anything for you if it would make you happy and make you stay. Natalie is very intense when she wants to be. Nat doesn’t care if it’s too much, she knows you understand her as she understands you, and she doesn’t care if it scares you. Nat whispers sweet nothings in your ears while you cuddle or when she holds you while you want the hunt beside her. Natalie is a huntress and will fight for you and with you to understand that she is your protector and provider. I just want you not to get worried if Natalie comes to you with wide manic eyes and tells you how much she loves you, how pure you indeed are, and how good you are. You are her purpose. 

Blood: How messy are they willing to get regarding their darling?

Natalie isn’t afraid to do anything to protect and keep her favorite person. But Natalie wouldn’t want you to see her like this, violent and ruthless, so she does any fights or killing behind your back. Nat is more willing to control the situation to keep you than to kill someone. Natalie is the one who comes up with the tiger pits and how they will hunt each other in the wilderness, she doesn’t mind if you are fed and full. 

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Fuck no. Natalie wouldn’t kidnap you but keep you in an invisible cage beside her. You can’t leave her. She doesn’t mock you because she doesn’t want you to leave her. She doesn’t want to give you a reason. 

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

She would pressure her into having drugs with her. I can see her making you take acid and have a wonderful time and telling you in a vulnerable state that you two were born for each other and were meant to be together now. And you would believe it wholeheartedly, and it would lead to having some awesome high sex. 

“You’re so beautiful…” You sigh as you run a finger down her nose to her lips. An aura shines off of Natalie that is like a rainbow of love radiating off of her. Her baby blue eyes stare into your face with a soft fondness. “God, princess, you are so fucking gorgeous.” 

She rolls on top of you on the bed, and you giggle as you wrap your arms around her neck to kiss her lips. It felt like heaven to touch her. It tingled your fingertips to feel her; it felt like you were in the best place in the world in her arms. Natalie kisses you and lays her body weight onto yours, her pelvis against yours. 

She rolls her hips against yours and sighs; she looks into your blown-out eyes and says as she rubs against yours deliciously, “You were born for me, do you feel it? We were meant to be here.” 

���Yes,” You moan and kiss her lips sloppily as your hand claws into her shirt to let you feel her skin against your lips. 

“Fuck, yes.” Natalie whimpers as she rocks her hips and hitches when you roll back against her. 

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Teen Natalie would expose her whole heart to you, and she would just love you seriously as she does with Travis. Because Travis isn’t messing with her heart, Natalie feels safe with you and lets you express everything. Everything in the relationship is codependent, and every thought, feeling, and sense is shared. 

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

I feel like Natalie is not pretty in a fight. I feel like Teen Natalie has an extremely anxious attachment style and will do anything to keep you by her in a fight. If you leave for air, you are abandoning her. If you sigh, you don’t care anymore. If you look away, you don’t want her. She will say some evil shit in a fight to keep you in front of her fight because at least you are still engaging with her. I see Natalie have tears in her eyes, wrapping her arms around you to stop you from leaving and begging you to stop, begging the world to stop. 

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No, she is very deadass about everything with you. You are her world, and she doesn’t think you even moving an inch is a funny matter. 

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

She will export her mental illness and threaten to harm herself to various degrees to keep with her. She knows it's fuck up, but it doesn’t fucking matter if you are still with her. 

Lies to you about where the meat came from. It came from your best friend, and she fed it to you in the eyes of it being deer meat, that it was nothing to worry about. You were losing too much weight. You would learn in the morning the truth, and it breaks something inside of you.

 “Get the fuck away from me!” 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! Please, listen to me!” 

“NO! HOW DARE YOU!” You sobbed violently out in the winter air. The scraps of your best friend on top of a pile of burnt wood and a dead fire. She was cooked. The one who braided your hair, let you cry on her shoulder, talked to you about boys and gossiped about girls with, laughed with, grieved with, the girl you went to pre-school with, and survived a plane crash together. She is gone. You told her goodnight, and now she is dead and gone in the morning like she was nothing but a deer in the woods. 

Gone into your stomach and is digested. You broke her down in your stomach and carried her life inside you. 

“Please! You were starving, and you were going to die!” 

“I WOULD HAVE RATHER DIED!” You cried hysterically as the other girls circled the porch, watching as you died inside. 

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Natalie doesn’t have a clean-cut plan because she doesn’t have one for herself, let alone her life with you. I see her getting with you in the wilderness, it allows her to be gay and let go of a lot of her comfort, so she just wants to live to see the next day. She doesn’t want to live without you, but it is too painful for Natalie to think about a life IF they get rescued, which is getting bleaker by the minute. 

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Natalie gets jealous, but she copes pretty well. I think Natalie would just try harder to get your attention because, of course, others want you. You are you. It doesn’t feel well, and she wants to fucking cut them open, but she just moves on from it quickly because it’s her that you sleep with at night. 

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Being with Natalie is like that puppy dog “us against the world” love; she treats you like this precious person. You are her favorite person and her only comfort. I believe Natalie has Bpd and would put her partner on a pedestal, always returning to them repeatedly. 

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

You and Natalie were always friends on the team, and you were friends with Shauna and Jackie more than her. And when the crash happened, and you two were the best shots in the team, you two naturally become closer when you are hunting together. You smoke some pot, and things just happen from there. 

Sitting in the plane that almost killed you doesn’t seem to have the dreading and glooming aura it usually does, all because of the girl in front of you rolling a joint. 

You giggle as you watch her lip the paper. You watch her twist the paper gently to close it up for you both to smoke it. She lifts and places the joint to your lips and smirks slightly.

“Okay, pretty princess, take it easy and suck in slowly.” She rasped to you as she lit the end with her lighter, her eyes flicked back up to your eyes. 

As she said, you suck in the joint with your eyes looking down at hers. You wanted to kiss her and have her eyes on you constantly.  

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from how they act around everyone else?

No, Natalie is just Natalie. She doesn't like masking and acting “formal” or “professional” because it is just not her vibe. Natalie is straight up with her feelings, and Nat would never act out of line. She just does her own thing. 

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Natalie is into spanking her partners, and she wouldn’t be above tying you up if you were very rotten. But if it was something small, she just rolls her eyes and makes a snarky comment but gets over it. 

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

None, except your free will to leave the relationship. She will do anything and threaten anyone to keep you. 

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Natalie usually needs to be more patient, but she tries her hardest with you. She gives you time to figure out her instructions, or when you're lining up a shot, or you try to figure out how to grab the antler of a buck you have killed together. Inside Natalie, it feels like a little kid stomping their feet, begging you to hurry up with things in your relationship. She wants to say I love you in the first few days, she wants to have sex very soon, and she wants to have some proof of devotion to your relationship very early. But she understands, and it happens when you are ready to do anything like that with her. 

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

I believe you and Natalie made a pact to never kill yourselves no matter what happens because you two must live together and keep going on. If you die, she would have to move on because of the pact, but she would never find someone again because of all the trauma of losing you and probably eating you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Natalie would feel bad for how she acts sometimes because she can’t control herself. She feels like a fucking weird imperfect freak that can only fuck things up. That said, Natalie will never let you go because of that. You are the only thing she hasn’t fucked up. 

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Childhood. I think that Natalie growing up in an abusive low-income home, with parents beating each other and being the worst versions of themselves, really affected Natalie’s idea of love. She always knew her parents were horrible to each other. She would watch princess movies with her parents' screams echoing in the kitchen. Nat always wanted to find an escape, someone to save her, some kind of Prince to come by and save her. As she grew up, she grew bitter at the idea and didn’t even like men if they were anything like her dad. Most are like her dad in her eyes. It became more significant; Nat needed something bigger and more consuming than just being together. Marriage meant nothing to her, but being stuck and interconnected with someone else was all she wanted—someone who couldn’t leave her and someone who would love her. 

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Horrible. Terrible. Natalie would start to cry and try desperately to fix the issue, explain herself, anything. If it were just out of a need to release a feeling, she would be beside you, letting you vent anything you need with a hand on your back. She loves you so much, and it hurts her to see you cry. 

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic Yandere?

I think that Natalie is not all that uncommon, and her tendencies seem more like a more extreme relationship with someone with Bpd (as someone with bpd), and it would be something that Natalie would try to suppress as much as possible. 

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit to escape?

Boozes, weed, and her fear of abandonment. She would fold to what you wanted her to do if you mentioned or implied any of them. You can leave her if you need to “escape” from her, but she will always find her way back to you and her together. 

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Emotionally, never physically. Natalie would though some things from her past, how you don’t love her enough, and she would just though things you would never want to hear from someone you love. She has terrible impulse control.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

The ends of the fucking earth. She would do anything for you and fucking hurt, burn, stab, and destroy whatever has to do for you. Nothing will stop her. No morals, laws, or ethics could make her slow down with her goal. 

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

It takes a couple of days to realize and then act on her urges. 

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Co-dependence and drug use. I feel like weed and alcohol, and more profound drugs to exploit your vulnerability and love. The events of the wilderness make it impossible for you two not to build a codependent relationship because it is us against the world. 

Yandere Level

 8/10 (You are very aware that you are in a codependent relationship that leads to the toxic side sometimes, but you don’t know how far Natalie will actually go for you) 

Freedom Level

8/10 (You have your own life but Natalie would like to be not that far behind. She doesn’t overstay her welcome but is always at a arms length distance for you to have her)

Lottie  ✿  Misty  

[theabbythatstalksthenight]

So after watching the most recent episode of yellowjackets, I decided to rewatch the first season and wow I don't think anyone pointed this out yet. But the parallels between Adult Nat's group therapy session in S1E1 and the cult group therapy session in S2E3. She's wearing purple in both and both centered around talks of anger and violence. With the first one, the person leading the group says it's okay to recognize your anger but to not let it get to violence. Nat says something in that session about keeping the tiger in a cage. But Lottie. Oh Lottie. She encourages violence if the person feels it's necessary. She gives Lisa permission to commit an act of violence against Nat. And Nat just stands their silently waiting to see what Lisa does with the knife. Even she is curious to see what happens if the tiger is let loose from the cage.

[mollrat101]

I love the ideas of the saints and the necklace being a marker for sacrifice.

I feel the cannibalism could be both? In the winter (where we see the pit girl scene) it's not hard to imagine the girls find it more difficult to find game. The animals might have migrated or in hibernation. So I think it could be both ritual and survival.

I wonder if making Jackie into a saint after her death would be an attempt for the group to alleviate their collective guilt? Unlike Laura Lee, Jackie died for nothing. She wasn't trying to save anyone and her death was totally preventable. The group failed her and that's why she died. Laura Lee would be a saint who gave up her life in an attempt to save them and who inspired them with her dedicated faith. Jackie is more of a martyr born out of guilt. Of remembering the former queen bee who lost her power and lost her life.

Great idea about Shauna, makes total sense to me. I would also imagine that Jackie didn't haunt Shauna until after she was rescued from the woods. Precisely because of what you're saying, in the woods Shauna could assuage her guilt via ritual and worshipping Jackie. But once she was rescued, she had no mechanism to help her process that anymore.

Hmm that's interesting about Nat and Travis. I could see that but I'm not totally sure either way, at this point. Natalie does seem to harbor some level of guilt over what happened in the woods. Shauna talks about her "endless pit of guilt" and Natalie talks in the pilot about what she saw and what she did in the wilderness. Plus, I could also see a possibility that Natalie and Travis were the ones who built that tiger trap that Pit Girl fell into. Natalie mentions about "keeping the tiger in the cage". Plus, more importantly Natalie and Travis are the hunters of the group. I could see them learning how to build a trap like that. And that's where their codependency could come from. Both of them shared a particular and important role in the group (as Tai says they owe Nat for their survival) but at the same time, they feel immense guilt for what they did. They could be the hunters that cry at every catch, but also justify it feeling it's a better alternative than everyone starving to death. But it's fucks them up for the rest of their lives. And no else could understand that pain but each other but the toxicity is the fact that together they seemingly could never move past the pain.

Nat's guilt doesn't necessarily mean she participated, but girl feels guilty for something. Which is odd because Teen Nat hasn't really done anything yet that I can perceive that would warrant that unless she does something worse later. It could be that she feels guilt for not saving the people who were sacrificed. Who knows. I'm on the fence, on this one. Nat, to me, will go where she feels most benefits her and protects Travis. I definitely see her as someone who won't feel particularly loyal to any clan once the split happens. Basically, I'm up in the air on this one. Either way could potentially be interesting.

Yellowjackets season 2 predictions

(as of 3/18/23, just under a week before s2 begins)

it's ritual cannibalism not survival cannibalism (I feel like we're all on the same page with this one)

Lottie's cult incorporates saints/martyrs, the first two of whom are Laura Lee and Jackie

hunting is part of the ritual, perhaps inspired by the shrooms-fueled hunting of Travis last season

Jackie's necklace is used to mark whoever is chosen as the next sacrifice to hunt

Shauna joins the cult in large part because worshipping Jackie is the only thing that feels big enough to remotely match the level of guilt she feels for her death (also remember "I liked the saints. they were all so tragic.")

Nat and Travis are the only two who never, ever join the cult. hence the s1 convo where the others recall how they never would have made it without Nat; hence Travis and Nat's codependent closeness.

the coach has gotta die pretty early on in this season right?

Taissa is the one who eventually gets them rescued, probably by trying another hike out that is more successful than the wolf-attacked one in s1. this theory based entirely on the overheard line in her campaign ad where she says she wants to "lead New Jersey out of the woods." this might happen in a later season tho.

idk what's gonna happen with Shauna's baby but if it does get eaten she isn't one of the ones who eats it, because Jeff was v accepting of whatever he read in her diaries and I think that would be beyond the pale even for our favorite himbo wife guy.

adult Nat has a torried affair with adult Lottie. this is not actually a theory but I'm putting it here anyway. #manifesting

[bugsbucky]

No More Games

Jealous!Bucky x Reader

Prompt: “When we get home, I’m cuffing you to the bed and going down on you all night.” “Fine by me, you look hot with your head between my legs.”

Warnings: Jealous Bucky, on and off relationship, dance floor grinding, saucy ending, smuttish (a little start of female receiving oral), language.

Word Count: *takes a deep breath and speaks quickly* 1,507

Authors Notes: this is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ extended quarantine drabbles. Thank you @jobean12-blog​ for the title suggestions and checking this over for me since my brain is incapable of reading😂 anyway, here is some jealous Bucky for you ladies :)

If looks could kill, you would most certainly be dead by now from the look alone on Bucky’s face. He was leaning one elbow on the bar and his narrowed eyes at you on the dance floor, grinding and moving your body with a stranger. 

The on-and-off-again relationship with Bucky was making you crazy, as far as you were aware the two of you had broken up weeks ago. Bucky has made no attempt to talk to you and every time you walk in the room, he walks out of it. So when the team proposed the idea of going out to the club on a Friday night to let loose and dance the stress away, you saw no harm in making your ex a little bit jealous. After all, he had been teasing you since you recently broke up by having random blonde women enter and exit his bedroom like a damn McDonald’s drive-thru. They came and left, literally, judging by the loud screams coming from his room. 

You turned in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands on your waist to pull you closer as he wedged his thigh between your legs. You shamelessly rubbed against his thigh muscle and threw your head back, feeling the intense glare from the bar. 

“You’re so gorgeous.” the stranger whispered against your ear, nipping at your neck as you got lost in the bass music. Feeling dizzy as the effects of the alcohol run through your veins and just knowing you were driving Bucky insane.

Bucky would deny he was a jealous guy of course. He believed as a boyfriend he was just doing what any other partner would do and protect what was theirs. You were his girl for years. The two of you started dating 4 years ago when he first moved into the compound, hitting it off almost instantly. That relationship lasted about 1 year before Bucky had decided to take a break, to reel in his freedom and explore other things in life. You and Bucky had other relationships with different people too, but for one reason or another they never seemed to work out and the two of you would find your way back to each other sooner or later. 

The second time you got together, it lasted a lot longer than the first. 2 years to be exact before it was once again his decision to take a timeout. Then you got back together for a further 6 months and broke up again. You remained friends until he started to sneak into your bed naked in the middle of the night. Then you got back together until a few weeks ago when he decided for the third time to break up, you figured it was a permanent breakup this time and here you were now, currently single and free. 

“You’re pretty hot yourself.” you teased the stranger, rubbing your noses together. Bucky’s jaw was clenched and his grip on his beer was close to shattering as he watched the two of you basically fuck each other. 

“You okay Buck?” Steve wondered amused by the look on Bucky’s face. 

“Fine.” Bucky gritted through his clenched teeth. 

“You’re grinding your teeth man. Should see a dentist about that.” Steve humoured, taking a swig of his beer that had absolutely no effect on him but he enjoyed the taste regardless. 

Now it was Steve’s turn to receive the death glare from his pal as Bucky spun in his seat and narrowed his eyes. 

“Seriously man, what’s got you so tense?” 

“Y/N.” he answered simply, flicking his eyes back over to you where you were bumping your ass against the stranger's crotch. “She’s fucking mine,” he stated, slamming his tumbler glass down on the bar and waving the bartender over.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but… didn’t you break up?”

“We never truly-” Bucky stops talking when his eyes zoom in on the stranger's hand that’s crawling up your thigh. “That’s fucking it!” 

“Go get her tiger,” Steve mutters with a knowing smirk in Nat’s direction. 

“I gotta go!” The stranger said quickly looking over your shoulder. Before you could stop him from leaving to ask what was wrong; a strong arm gripped your elbow and dragged you through the crowd of dancing people. The crowd parted as the 6ft man of muscle and a metal arm walked through everyone, literally shoving anyone out of the way who wouldn’t move. You offered them an apologetic look on your way out, not that they were even paying much attention to what was happening around them anyway. 

Bucky pushed the exit door open with so much force he almost took it off the hinges. 

“What’s your problem?!” you shouted, attempting to shake your arm from his tight grip. Bucky ignored you as he marched the two of you down the road and into the side of an alleyway. He shoved you up against the red brick wall. Anger radiating off of him. You chuckled and licked your lips. “Took you long enough.” You smirked, watching his eyes darken.

“Is this a game to you?” He growled, caging you in. 

“I don’t see why you would care. We’re both single, I’m allowed to do what I want when I want. Unless you’re jealous or-”

“I’m not jealous.” he defended, earning a laugh from you.

“Not jealous? Then why did you march me out of there like you own me?” Bucky nuzzled his face in your neck, nipping your earlobe. 

“You’re mine. Let’s stop fucking around.” 

“Says the man who keeps breaking up with me.” 

“I’m fucking serious. I’m never letting you go again, you’re mine! In fact… when we get home, I’m cuffing you to the bed and going down on you all night.”

His words went to your ears straight down to your core. You always remember Bucky being the passionate one in bed, always preferring to give rather than receive and he was damn experienced with that long hot tongue of his.

“Fine by me, you look hot with your head between my legs.” you countered with a smirk. He laced his fingers with yours, pulling you along with him and hailed a cab. 

The ride back to the compound was intense. Bucky stared at you the whole time, his eyes never faltering and his breathing was erratic. Your plan to drive him insane tonight clearly worked, and the triumph victory you felt was nothing compared to the prize you would be receiving later.

The cab pulled up outside the compound and Bucky tossed the driver a couple of notes, swiftly getting out and pulling you out with him. He remained quiet as the two of you walked through the compound hand in hand to the elevator, ignoring the looks of bypassers who were working late tonight. 

As soon as the elevator reached your floor, he took your hand and marched you down the hall like a man with a plan. He kicked your door open and you followed him inside. Closing the door behind you and locking it, you turn quickly and his lips are on yours. His kiss is heated and hungry, his fingers fumbling with the zipper of your dress, letting it pool around your ankles as he walked you backwards towards your bed. Your knees hit the side of the bed and you fell back with a slight giggle. His eyes were dark as they wandered over your half-naked form. Kicking your heels off, you shift yourself up the bed and he reaches into your nightstand drawer, pulling out a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs. You realise he’s going to keep his promise as he grips both of your wrists with his metal hand, handcuffing them to the metal headboard.

He left you like that for a few minutes, ridding himself of his own clothes and crawling up the bed with a predatory gaze. He kneels between your spread thighs and moves your legs over his broad shoulders, the muscles in his back flexing as he worked his hands to pull down your soaking wet panties. He growled against your thigh, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin there as he got closer and closer to your aching core. 

“Buck please,” you beg, bucking your hips near his face. Your swollen clit is desperate for his tongue. “Please baby I need you. I promise no more games.”

“No more games? You gonna be my girl?” he asks, darting his tongue out, you buck your hips again, hoping to touch his tongue before he pulls it back in his mouth. You groan in frustration when he does just that. “Answer me doll.”

“Yes, Buck. I’ll be your girl. Just please…” your chest heaves and your eyes close as his tongue manoeuvres between your folds, opening your lips in the process. 

“Oh yeah. Just like that. More, give me more!” Bucky chuckles, enveloping his lips over your clit and sucking harshly. 

“Get comfy baby. It’s gonna be a long night.” 

Taglist: @jobean12-blog @marvelgirl7 @godofplumsandthunder @hawksmagnolia @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @deanthedemon @kitkatd7 @littleredstarfish @sarge-barnes-sir @crushedbyhyperbole​ @emilylyoness​

[starker-stories]

Gunsel

First, before you read, run and see the fabulous moodboard that starker-sorbet made for me, for this story. Run! It’s beautiful.

Story also on AO3.

Tags: Offscreen Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - Mob, Mob Boss Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - Noir, Dark!Tony, dark!Peter, Alternate Universe - No Powers, modern day noir, Film Noir, The Maltese Falcon

Gunsel is dated slang for a gay man (usually a bottom) with an older gay man (usually the top). Another definition is a gun-carrying criminal. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter was new to being included in Tony Stark’s business. He and Tony had been together for a year, but only a couple of months after that Peter requested to be brought in on things.

He wasn’t innocent. Everyone knew who Tony Stark was. He ran everything underhanded and illegal in the North East. So when Tony asked him out on a date after a chance encounter, he had a quick decision to make. There wasn’t really any doubt what his answer would be. Tony’s world fascinated Peter. It was a complicated puzzle and he liked the idea of working on it. It would take time for Tony to trust him. But in that time? It would be fun.

After a year, Peter grew restless and Tony grew tired of lying about the details of his business. Only, Tony’s trusted inner circle had been less than thrilled to have the boss’ boy toy in on things. Even once Peter had proven himself and taken care of some difficult ‘business’ on his own, they still doubted he was anything but a pretty face to keep the boss happy in the bedroom.

Peter stood straight and quiet beside Tony, who lounged casually in a big, tall leather chair near the center of the room. Peter listened, but didn’t interrupt. Even though he knew everything Tony did, knew all the details of his business, he was still considered new and was trying to work his way into the inner circle’s good graces.

“We need a fall guy,” Bucky said, pacing the room, settling at last in one of the chairs in front of Tony’s desk. “The NYPD aren’t the only ones looking into this. The FBI’s gotten interested. If the police solve it, the FBI loses interest. So we need someone the police can blame for those three murders.”

“Three?” Natasha said. “There were only two.”

“My partner on the deal,” Tony smirked, “turned up in the East River last night.”

“Okay, three,” Natasha said. “What difference does it make how many there are? Bucky has a point. We’ve done well in staying off the OCB’s radar. We want to stay that way. Someone has to take the blame. We have to give the police something so the FBI marks the case closed.”

Tony scoffed. “You can’t expect me to think that you, of all people, are afraid of the police or the FBI.” He paused. “Or that you’re not able to handle…”

“I’m very able to handle either of them,” she said, irritated by Tony’s insinuation.

“I’m in this up to my neck, dammit,” Bucky interrupted. “Two of them are directly traceable by someone good — and you know Rogers is good — back to me.” He was angry at Tony’s nonchalant confidence that he and his organization were untouchable. He’d never taken such a tone with the boss before. But desperation can make a man stormy. “I’ve got to find somebody to put this on. If I don’t, I’ll be the one Rogers hones in on.”

Barnes stood up from his chair and paced like a caged tiger in front of Tony’s desk. He stopped at the far corner of it. Bucky fixed his eyes on Peter. “Let’s give him the gunsel. He actually did shoot one of them when you sent him out with me to work on the problem.” He gave Peter a once over. “He’s made for the part. Look at him. Inexperienced, clumsy. Say he was trying to work his way out of your bed and into the organization by killing three of your enemies. Let’s give him to the NYPD.”

Tony leaned onto the arm of his chair, inclined towards Peter, and laughed. Low pitched and uncharacteristically loud. He paused for breath and continued his mirth. “Buck, there’s no telling what solution you’ll come up with, except it’s going to be dramatic.”

Bucky misinterpreted Tony’s meaning. “It’s our best option, boss. There isn’t anything about him and the story that Rogers won’t eat with a spoon. The chance at getting your latest boy? A blundering climber getting above himself? It’s custom made.”

Tony’s look turned cold as he stared at his right-hand man. “Even if I considered it, Peter is more than just a climber.” Tony flung the word back at Barnes. “If I did what you propose, what do you think would keep Peter from telling Rogers every last detail, details that none of you know, about my business.”

“Let him talk. Rogers will never believe that one of your bedwarmers knows about your business. No one will do anything about what he says.”

Tony’s laugh was harsher. He tapped Peter on the side of his leg and looked up at him. “What do you think of this idea? Funny, huh?”

Peter stared at Bucky. “Yeah. Funny,” he said, deadpan.

Tony stood and walked over to Natasha. “What do you think, Nat? That a good solution?”

“Not at all,” Natasha said, shooting a sidelong glance at Bucky. “It’s too much exposure. Even if Rogers bought the story Barnes thinks Peter’s going to tell, which Peter won’t, the story he does tell will be the end of you.” She nodded to Bucky. “And will do absolutely nothing to harm anyone else. Peter’s loyal… to you.” She nodded to Tony.

“I’m loyal,” Bucky argued. “But the kid’s not going to be missed. You’ll replace him within the week.”

“I thought you were more observant than that,” Tony said, moving in front of Barnes. “You’ve known me for a very long time. When have I ever brought one of my bedwarmers,” Tony spat the word in disgust, “into the business? When have I sent one of them out to do work? Expected one of them to be able to handle said work? And to not be disappointed by their results?”

Bucky’s breath quickened. “Never.” He shook his head slightly. “I got…”

“You fucking panicked,” Tony yelled. “You’ve been jumpy ever since Rogers joined the FBI. I’ve worked with you for years. I trust you more than anyone except Peter. What is it about this one? We’ve handled worse than an eager beaver transfer from NYPD. Why’s he got you jumpy?”

Bucky closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath. “He’s my ex.”

Tony stared straight at Bucky, scanning his face for any sign of a lie. “When?”

“Before this. Before us,” Barnes said hurriedly. “We grew up together. We had a thing. Teenagers, y’know? It was over long before I came into the life.”

“All right.” Tony turned around, pacing, keeping his back to Barnes. “I’m going to overlook the fact that you failed to tell me this important bit of information. But your childhood sweetheart is going to be taken care of.” Tony paused. “By you and Peter.”

Tony said back down in his chair and looked up at Peter. “If he hesitates at all, kill them both.”

Peter looked coldly at Bucky. Then he beamed at Tony. “Whatever you say, boss.”

[what-the--curtains]

Braving the elements

(Bucky x OC and/or Bucky x reader)

Summary:

A mutant with elemental control flees her life of crime after an altercation with her boss. In hopes of bringing him down she seeks out her old friend Wanda and offers to help the Avengers. Whilst there a certain avengers catches her eye and she catches his. As a more sinister plot begins to reveal itself, you realize that your former employer is the least of your worries and that something wicked was being planned for you since the day you were born.

Warnings; Violence, Swearing, Theft

Author's note: First piece of non-academic writing I’ve done in a while so feedback is always appreciated, but be kind! I may change this to be a reader insert, but I just don’t like how (Y/n) looks in the writing. If y’all want it changed though let me know! Bucky makes his appearance in Chapter 4 so it’s a slow burn romance, but there’s gonna be fluff, angst and smut involved! Steve/Nat and Wanda/Vision are in it later as well, but I wanted to establish the main character a bit first as she’s the only one who's made up

Word Count: 2.0K

Act 1: Chapter 1: The Robbery

Songs inspiring this chapter

Ain’t no rest for the wicked – Cage the Elephant (Bank robbery)

Boss Bitch - Doja Cat (Fight with the avengers)

Monday 10 AM, N.Y.C

“This is it?” you ask, pulling your sunglasses down slightly in order to get a better view of the building standing before you.

“That’s the one.” Your getaway driver Calvin says into your ear piece, he’s a block away in the back of a white van waiting for the go ahead from the boss.

You squint as the sun hits your eyes, letting out a low whistle “Pretty fancy for a bank, you gonna tell me what I’m getting out of here?” you muse.

“That’s on a need to know basis sweetheart.” He responds flatly.

“Well sweetheart, hate to break it to ya, but I need to know!” you pause for a moment to see if you’ve managed to make him laugh “Seriously Calvin this is some of my best stuff!”

“God do you ever shut up, cameras and emergency buttons are down, you just have the guards to worry about now so get on with the job. Once you’re out make sure your face is covered. Do you have your mask with you? ”

“”You know as the person doing most of the brute work I think I deserve a little respect” you retort “Do I have my mask? Do you have your mask Calvin? God your infuriating!” you mutter, pulling out your “mandatory” earpiece and throwing it into a nearby gutter, before taking a quick glance in your purse just in case you had forgot.

Seeing the mask in its place, you pull your leather jacket over a white t-shirt and tighten your belt ensuring your shorts stay in place. Alright let’s do this you think with confidence before immediately tripping over your shoe laces and falling to the ground.

“God how embarrassing” you say slightly louder than you meant too. Pushing yourself onto one knee you tie your laces up and hop back on your feet “Alright let’s try this again.”

You walk through the sliding doors into the marbled interior of the bank, smiling as you pass by two security guards. One with a long mustache and another with a poorly done tattoo of a tiger on his bicep. You make note of the other two guards who were currently leaning up against the roman-esque columns lining the perimeter of the building. One was wearing sunglasses and the other was casually twirling a baton around.

“Hey, only four of you guys defending this whole building?” You inquire

“Ya sweetheart just the four of us, but don’t you worry we’ll keep ya safe” Tattoo replied with a smile and a slightly unnerving arm touch.

“Well thank goodness for that and god bless America!” you say sweetly grinning from ear to ear. Turning on your heel you head towards the counter ringing the bell twice before a woman in her mid-twenties appears from the back room and walks over to the counter. She’s wearing a name tag that reads Sandy.

“Hi there Sandy, how are you today?”

“I'm doing just fine thanks for asking and what can I do for you today?” She replied with a smile.

“I’m here to retrieve my belongings. Vault 176 here’s the key.” you say sliding it under the protective glass. Sandy smiles politely and walks into the backroom for a few minutes before emerging with a small box.

“Alright, I’m just going to need see some ID then your good to go ma’am”

“Well you see Sandy, I left it at home and my husband’s gonna kill me if I don’t get this back to him tonight could you do a gal a favour and just look the other way?” you plead

“I’m really sorry ma’am, but I just can’t do that.” Sandy replies sympathetically.

“Well I understand,” you say “Oh and Sandy, I’m sorry about this really I am”

“Sorry for what exactly ma’am?” she asks with a worried tone

“For this' ' you jump onto the counter and pull out a gun “Hi, yea, hello, people of the bank can I have your attention please? I just wanted to inform you all that I’m gonna be robbing this branch, but this does not mean it has to be a traumatic or unpleasant experience. I just need that box there and I don’t want anyone to get hurt, really I don’t. So if you could pretty please hand it over to me and any spare cash you have lying around this joint.”

Unfortunately, Tattoo, Mustache, Sunglasses, and Twirly were now approaching you with guns raised.

“Ma’am drop your weapon and put your hands where I can see them” demands Mustache

“C’mon sweetheart we both know you don’t know how to handle that thing.” Sunglasses says patronizingly

“Fine you got me glasses.” you pout “My little lady brain doesn’t know how to use a gun!” you exclaim before quickly throwing the gun at him, hitting him right in the head and knocking him out “ You’re supposed to throw the gun right?”

Mustache rushes towards you at full speed. Before he can reach you, you jump off the counter connecting the soles of your feet to his face knocking him down onto the floor unconscious. You land painfully on your hip feeling a bruise forming almost instantly.

The last two guards begin their approach. From the ground you kick Twirlys feet out from under him and jump to fight the baton out of his hand. Punching him in the throat you stand up and turn to knock tattoo, your least favorite of the four, right in the stomach with the baton. He doubles over in pain. Twirly tries to stand up, but you bring the top of your foot down on his neck causing him to drop, this time staying down. Bringing the same leg forward you knee tattoo in the nuts and feign a pained look as he topples over. Bending over you pick up the three guns now lying on the floor

“You know, you should really learn how to use these properly. Wouldn’t want you hurting anyone, especially yourselves.” You scold. The few people in the bank remained still and decided it was probably best to comply with you. You turn back to the counter now sweating, and Sandy hands you the box from the vault and a bag full of cash which she had filled during the beatdown.

“Thanks Sandy you’re a peach!”

Sandy looks at you pleadingly “Oh come on, we both know you ain’t gonna get fired because some lady came in and threatened you. If anything you should sue them, unsafe workplace and all” you offer sincerely with a shrug of your shoulders.

You gingerly step over the four guards lying on the floor and slip on your mask before exiting the bank.

Monday 10:25 AM Avengers Tower

A field agent runs into Tony’s office where he and Steve were working “Sir one of the downtown branches has been broken into!” he wheezes.

“And?” says Tony

“And you’re going to want to see this” He pulls up a video taken by one of the bystanders in the bank. The video depicts the scene of you beating up the four guards.

“You know who that is?” Steve asks Tony

“Never seen her before in my life, which is surprising considering how well she fights. Let’s get in for questioning. I'm a bit busy here so Steve if you wouldn’t mind.” He says turning back to his work.

“Peter, Wanda suit up, we’ve got a robbery to stop” Steve orders.

10:35 AM Downtown N.Y.C

God this mask is hot you think struggling to get the eyes hole in place as you approach the white van concealing Calvin’s whereabouts. Knocking three times he open the door and you

throw the small box from the vault up to him.

‘’What have I told you about taking out your ear piece?” he fumed “And what the hell is in that bag?” he shouts pointing to the large bag of cash you had grabbed.

“Money.” you say with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Last time I checked boss said no extra risks, he ain’t gonna be happy about this.”

“Well last time I checked he likes money” you respond causing Calvin to become even more agitated. As you turn to grab the money you see a ball of red light come hurling at you. You duck just in time.

“Shit, how the hell did the goddamn Avengers get here so fast?” Calvin shouts, you grab the money and throw it into the back of the van he extends his hand and you’re about to grab it when BAM something hits you in the back knocking you forward.

“Alright who the fuck threw a whole ass shield at me!” You yell more irritated that angry

“We gotta go c’mon Eve” Calvin pleads “Boss really ain’t gonna like this!”

“Screw that, this just got personal! Go, i’ll catch up” you promise turning and running towards the shield throwing culprit a.k.a Captain American. You kick him right in the gut having caught him slightly off-guard he doubles over. You remove your belt and wrap it around his neck pulling as hard as you can.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a superhero or something?“ you begin to ask, but before you can fish the sentence something slaps you in the back of the head pulling off your mask. You're thrown off the captains back.

“Shit!” you mumble before turning to see one of spidey kids webs still holding your mask.

You hear her before you see her “Chris?” you turn to see someone you hadn’t seen in years

“Wanda?” you blink a few times no it can’t be. Just then a truck skids up behind you and firm hands hoists you up

“We gotta go now!” Calvin says angrily, shooting suppressing fire out towards the three avengers.

“Chris!” Wanda yells again before throwing energy towards the truck. You pull the air around it and throw the energy back her way.

With Spiderkid and the captain still on your tail you decide to pull out a few of your old tricks. You pull the branch from a tree up and wrap it around the kids arm trapping him in the tree

“Um Mr. Rogers I’m down and out” he sighs.

“Two down one to go.” you focus on the captain who's now running through the street after you at superhuman speed. Lucky for you it had rained the day before on the street was full of puddles. Crouching down you turn the puddles to ice causing the captain to wipe out. Hard. Closing the doors of the van as It turns the corner you make your way back to your headquarters.

“They made me. Spider kid took my mask.” you whisper hoping Calvin doesn’t hear you

“He ain’t gonna be happy” he chastised.

“God you don’t think I already know that! At least we got the goods. He’s gonna be real happy about that!”

[dustlnds]

part three of rylan’s many idiots, meet your resident manic pixie dream girl natalie cassadaga! + more info, wanted connections. / @redridgeimp​

name: natalie jennifer valentine cassadaga nicknames: nat, nati, tiger (mostly reserved for damien) age: 29 ethnicity: white gender/pronouns: cis female, she/her sexual/romantic orientation: pansexual/panromantic been in red ridge for: seven years occupation: tattoo artist (at home), waitress (blue hill diner) affiliation: valencia, despite her unwillingness to admit it. as they helped her get a life in red ridge after fleeing las vegas through the person of damien kingsley, they’ve been holding this unspoken contract over her head for quite a while, demanding her help in the form of tattoos (she’s responsible for most of the v’s tattooed on the bodies of valencia members), nursing care (often dropping people who need to be stitched up / nursed at her place, since it’s so off the map), or carrying merch/goods across town. (might be, also, that the day after damien told her hey, you’re clean now, she felt the shadow self in her latch onto her vices, her filth, and when she asked someone in valencia for a dose she knew they’d hold it over her head, but she did it anyway. now a small brown bag containing her shame is hidden in a box beneath her bed: and that, like the way valencia shows up at her step every other week, is a reminder that perhaps she can’t ever be free). positive traits:  spontaneous, empathic, selfless, good spirited, kind, protective, creative, resourceful, spiritual. negative traits:  impulsive, naive, resentful, cowardly, self-destructive, insecure, frightened, weak.

BIOGRAPHY —

(WARNINGS for substance abuse, drug abuse, overdosing).

las vegas, nv, 2001. at ten she’s a spark begging to be ignited. a kid with a bright imagination, but her parents aren’t happy. school is hard for the girl who’ll spend hours covering textbooks in flowers — why should two plus two matter, she thinks, when i can make the paper bloom into whole gardens, full of creatures staring back at me, when i can create my own world? her parents have never been the kind to waste their days daydreaming. they look at their youngest daughter and think: where does she take it? all this carefree passion of hers, where does it come from? she lacks her father’s disposition for numbers, how clinically pristine they look when lined up one after the other, and how satisfying they feel when preceded by a plus sign on a bank invoice. she has none of her mother’s backbone, the way she carries herself as if pure, molten gold flew into her veins — staring everyone down, making herself taller. she seems to only have eyes for fleeting things, mundane passions: for her colors, for the music of a guitar, for the way the desert sand blows into her hair at sundown. come a couple years, all she has eyes of is the boy playing his guitar among the wrecks of a car parts graveyard — says his name is elvis and she knows that isn’t true, but in las vegas, somehow, you can make yourself be whoever you want to be. she smiles, and says her name is tiger instead: in another life, perhaps, she was fierce and with a bite.

las vegas, nv, 2008. at seventeen she’s golden spotlights on the vegas strip. atomic bomb waiting to explode, all summer glare and midnight rides into nowhere: it’s her and elvis in his daddy’s car and it feels like they could conquer the world, if they wanted. he sings to her, she dances for him, characters straight out of a ‘50s song, loaded with a naivety that tastes like the american dream. no time for overbearing parents, no attention paid in school: it’s just them, skin on skin, flowers blooming from her fingers in spray paint over abandoned buildings. this could last forever, she thinks, she begs, she prays: a life like this could last forever. (a life like this drains the best of her). elvis was born to be a king like his namesake, and he’s got dreams of fame and glory that don’t contemplate her presence. street artists never become rockstars, and she has time for nothing more than the creatures lunging out of her fingers, onto the paper. she’s skin and bones, ink and notes, like she could live off of music and drawings alone — and him, always him, a golden god, a forbidden hymn. the night he signs his first record deal she grabs her inks and her needles — tattoes a present on his skin, a crown for the king to be. and as she draws, she prays: that their dreams can be true, that this is not a happy chorus in a ballad, but a rock opera, a discography for the ages to come. she prays for him like a beggar at an altar: and maybe there’s magic in that crown she tattoos, there’s truth in the prayer she pours into it. he wins his dreams and leaves her behind: prayers always require sacrifices.

somewhere in nevada, 2013. at twenty-two she’s broken lightbulbs under strangers’ feet. she’s shards of glass she could cut people with, but it’s herself she harms; see, elvis’ gone but there’s tons of friends in his place. there’s mary jane, addy, crystal, lucy and all her diamonds. vegas is a wonderland, a new high hidden ‘round every corner, and kind people willing to hand ‘em out like candy to an hazy, improvised alice — the drawings grow darker now, shadows with caved-in eyes and hollow chests. the colors don’t come the way they used to, and when they do they all look like a shade of nightmares — blood red, nausea green, despair blue. she looks for answers in his songs: on the radio, in her mind, she swears he still sings about her. has to follow him to the middle of the desert, to a festival where he stands on a stage and people swear he looks just like the real thing, the king himself. she doesn’t see him, though, but a hole where all her strength used to be, the us against the world turned into the open jaws of a ravenous monster: us against the world, and then the world collapses. wonderland turns to the land of nightmares, and the needle, it is her salvation — down the rabbit hole, she thinks, and someone must come out on the other side. either her, or the ghost of her. either her, or her evil turned to flesh. there is no rabbit hole but a town called red ridge. there is no white rabbit but a man — a good man, a honest man, with an inclination to fixing broken things. he helps her up to her fit, treats her alike his daughter and his sister, and when he begins asking her to help fix the remains of a broken car, she begins to wonder whether he isn’t trying to fix her, too. sometimes he calls her tiger and she remembers when she fancied herself a wild and untamed thing, escaping cages, just following her instincts. under the heat of the south-west sun, she smiles. maybe all tigers were lost creatures at first.

red ridge, nv, 2020. at twenty-nine she’s neon gas begging to be lit up. there’s a tiger on her forearm, hides the scars of a previous life. there’s always ink under her fingernails, sometimes it seems it shines in the dark. red ridge has become her home; damien, lyla, rowan: her familt. the car she’d begun to fix with the man who helped her now has been colored bright pink and bears the name of flamingo, and she rides it out in the desert letting it add to the spirit in her heart — wild, untamed, free. her family becomes red ridge, becomes the darkenss of it too. she’s made herself a home in the sand: an old garage, turned inside out, now overflowing with flowers and colors, sparkling gems and drawings hanging at every corner — and a canary, otis, that sings her to sleep every night. she’s called it dustland, a sort of mythical place at the edge of red ridge, into the nothing, willing to welcome all the broken, all the wounded and the lost. but she loses herself too, now and then. at times she looks past the profiles of houses and buildings, and knows there’s a den of coyotes hiding among the ranks of valencia, which hold the key to that rabbit hole she once lost herself in. at night, when the desert gets cold and her bones don’t feel anything like a tiger’s — she swears she can hear the coyotes howl, beckoning. one night she caves in, asks them for a dose: she keeps it under her bed, lets it become her shame, and to avoid that secret getting out she helps the coyotes out anytime they ask. sometimes she feels she’s falling apart again. when she does, she turns to the ink to remind herself of how life was drained out of all shades, because of the needles in her arm. sometimes it’s enough to keep her breathing to the night. sometimes.

[manawhaat]

Welcome to Womanhood

Title: Welcome to Womanhood

Characters: Steve x Reader, Tony, Sam, Wanda, Natasha, Bruce, Pepper. 

Summary: When you’re faced with seeing a gynecologist, Steve and Tony don’t understand your hangups.

Prompt: No One Believes Them - for @star-spangled-bingo

Warnings: Angst, feelings of panic/fear/anger, brief mentions of past mental trauma, doctor’s offices, gynecologists/ gynecological descriptions, tmi, slight fluff, slight sexy vibes? 

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Written for Star Spangled Bingo. This fic stems directly from personal history and experiences and it’s an overshare and super specific but writing it has helped me so fuck it. FYI, any dramatization or exaggeration of time in this fic are based on the exact wait times of my own gyno visit last month. Thank you @thelittleredwhocould for the beta and thank you to anyone who reads this 👍

“Ms. Y/l/n, Mr. Stark has an appointment for you today.”

“Does he, now? Cause I don’t remember having Dr. Stark and Banner in my calendar, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“This appointment was scheduled today.”

“Well how ever am I supposed to know if I have time for an appointment if it’s scheduled at the last minute?” you tease, voice all sing-song and high pitched. Steve and Sam smirk at your back and forth from the kitchen island.

Before the program can respond Tony rounds the corner with Wanda and Nat on his tail, knocking on the counter top to get your attention.

“Speak of the devil.” Sam winks in your direction and your mouth draws into smile.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” Tony snarks at Sam. “Anyway, I’m gonna need to steal you away for a bit, Y/n. Doc’s waiting.”

“What kind of doctor am I seeing today, Anthony? I thought you and Bruce were gonna do all of our check ups, and last time I checked, you were done with me.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think Cap, here, would want me or Banner up close and personal with your fun bits, even with all of my-” he clears his throat and paints on a cocky grin- “experience in the field. So I’ve brought in one of the best. Pepper’s doctor already did those two-” he waves a finger at Nat and Wanda at the other side of the island with Steve and Sam- “so we’re just waiting on you.”

A pit forms in your stomach and a lump fills your throat. “A- a gynecologist?”

“Yeah, last stop on the Health Express. Now, all aboard,” Tony jokes, completely amused by himself as he fake toots a train horn, oblivious to the panic in your eyes.

“No.”

Steve’s eyes lift from his notebook at your answer. The moment he takes in your stance, defensive and scared, he knows something is wrong.   

“Oh, come on. You’ve sat there for every test we’ve done. Don’t get doctor shy on me, now. He’s great, right girls?” He claps his hands and opens them to the women behind Sam.

Wanda nods. “Very gentle.”

“Probably the best I’ve ever seen,” Natasha agrees.

“See? He’s stellar, so let’s go and we’ll get it over with and have you back here in a jiffy.”

Your head shakes back and forth in disbelief. “This can’t be happening.” It’s a whisper that no one hears and when Tony reaches for your wrist you snap and lose any semblance of cool you’d been holding onto. “Don’t fucking touch me!” The tone of your voice and fire in your eyes is enough for the guys to stand from their chairs as the girls look on with concerned eyes.

“Easy, tiger,” Tony coos, hands up in surrender.

“How dare you, Tony?”

Tired of your ‘outburst’, he deadpans, “It’s just a check up, Y/n.”

“How could you just decide this for me? Without even asking me or giving me time to-”

“Y/n, sweetheart,” Steve coos, walking around the island to de-escalate the situation.

“This is my body. Not yours. Goddammit! You have absolutely no right to grant anyone access to my body, to something so intimate,” you rage, torn apart with anger that Tony could make you feel so violated.

“Y/n, hey, look at me.”

When Steve is shoulder to shoulder with Tony, you freeze. As comforting as your boyfriend usually is, he’s too big and he’s caging you in, only adding to the fear filling you to the brim. It’s a defense mechanism, but your fists curl at your sides as he slowly approaches.

“Stop,” you plead, eyes dangerously close to spilling tears.  

He does, and before anyone can blink a red hue fills their eyes. The posture they’d adopted to make themselves look smaller fades away and they turn to walk out of the room. Eyes darting from person to person, you find Wanda with energy flowing from her fingertips, mercifully removing them from the situation long enough for you to dart out of the room with Sam on your heels.

Sam calls after you, a gentle hand wrapping around your upper arm. “Hey, hey, hold up. Are you okay?”

“I- fuck!”

His hands wrap around your shoulders, his soft, concerned eyes anchoring you as he takes a breath that you mimic. “It’s okay. It’s just me. Do you want me to take you somewhere for a while?” he asks, knowing you need something but not quite knowing what exactly that is.

“Sam, I know you wanna help, but I can’t, okay. Maybe later, but for now, please just let me go,” you ask, shaking in his hold. He instantly takes a step back and raises his hands for you to leave, shooting you a small nod at the silent ‘thank you’ in your eyes.

Wanda and Natasha find you on the rooftop, face buried in your knees where you sit curled up in one of the plush deck chairs set out for sunbathing. The two take seats on either side of you, offering comfort that only another woman can provide.

Nat breaks the silence. “You okay?”

A wave of uneasiness fills you but slowly subsides into a feeling closer to guilt. “Uhm, I don’t know. But I’m sorry for all of that. And thank you for what you did, Wanda.”

“I saw what they couldn’t, so I’m happy I did the right thing.”

“When did Tony tell you guys about this?”

“About a week ago?” Wanda nods in agreement with Nat.

“We thought you knew about the exam today but apparently you didn’t. It took you by surprise and you showed that but you don’t need to apologize for that feeling,” Wanda explains.

Head falling, your eyes scrunch closed. “I know, I just, I feel like I freaked them out.”

“To be fair, Tony freaked you out first. Sooo….” Natasha smiles a little when you accept her words. “So, do you wanna talk about it?”

A heavy sigh leaves you and you sit up straight between them, fingers fiddling in your lap.

“I know that it’s just part of my health, but having someone down there-” you shudder- “inside of me, when they aren’t there for consensual romantic reasons….I  just- it’s a hurdle I can’t get over. My body, my sexuality, it's always been something I was raised to keep hidden. I get that my parents were trying to protect me, but they drilled it into me so deep in such an unhealthy way. ‘No boys, no romance, don’t even talk to boys. No sex until you’re married. Your body is yours and is NEVER to be shared with another person unless you’re married.’ And then one day my childhood doctor physically unbuttoned and unzipped my pants while I was laying there on his exam table. I freaked out.”

“Naturally,” Nat chimes.

“Naturally. I didn't let him do the exam so we left and my mom yelled at me the whole way home for not letting him look. Like, how the fuck can you tell someone their entire life not to share their body and then one day just say 'open your legs and let him see.’ and expect them to be okay? It’s so- I don’t know- personal? But it’s not personal the way it is with me and Steve, and that’s the only way my brain can process anyone down there. So the only thing left for me to label it as is invasive. No matter how much time I have I can never fully prepare for it, and the thought of Tony overseeing something so….so wrong,” you squeak, “God, it makes me want to vomit.”

“Hey.” Natasha’s voice has you lifting your chin to meet her eyes. “It’s not wrong. There’s nothing wrong with gynecologists. Tony is, well, Tony- and it was kind of a dick move of him to thrust that on you. But you do need to see someone.”

Eyes narrowing in her direction, even she can see you starting to crack. “Why are you always fucking right?”

“Me? Right? Is that even possible?” she grins sarcastically.  

“So you’ll see someone?” Wanda asks.

A grimace paints your face, but you nod. “Yeah. I know I have to, and at least if I set it up myself then I can be in control of it.”

“Good. And we’ll be here as long as you need us,” Nat smiles, wrapping her arm around you as Wanda hugs you from the other side.

Sandwiched between them, you sniff and let out a laugh. “Thank you.”

An hour later the three of you are just getting up to go back downstairs, find some ice cream, and watch chick flicks when a tall figure looms into view. Your back straightens, but the look in his eyes allows you to deflate.

Flashing a smile to Nat, she and Wanda leave you alone with Steve.

“Hey.”

You step into his space, reaching out for his hand. “Hey,” you sigh, playing with his fingers.

“I- I’m sorry for making things worse. Tony asked me this morning if you were available today and I told him you were. I figured he or Bruce or F.R.I.D.A.Y. would fill you in on the appointment.”

Dropping his hand, you take a step back. “You knew?” Venom laces into your voice and he stands straight. “You knew and you just volunteered me for that?”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“You and Tony ambushed me, Steve. What the fuck!”

Pushing past him, he groans and follows you. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

“Yeah, you sure as hell didn’t think, Steve.”

“Hey.” His voice is firm and all too Captain Rogers, but you stop anyway, turning on your heels to glare up at him. Broad shoulders are set high and those blue eyes are piercing.

“It’s just another doctor’s appointment. Ever since Pepper started riding Tony about his health we’ve all been going through it. I don’t understand what the issue is, Y/n.”

“Of course you fucking don’t,” you puff, completely defeated and unable to believe that this is your Steve standing in front of you. “A complete stranger opening me up and prodding around inside of me-” you shove at his chest- “physically feeling the most intimate part of me while I’m laying there on a cold, hard table, forced to just sit there and let it happen for the sake of my health….” Tears finally spill from your eyes and your voice wavers as you continue. “That is not ‘just another doctor’s appointment’, Steve. It feels like molestation, and I can’t believe you would knowingly volunteer me for that.”

Broken voice, spirit, and heart, you walk away before he can say another word. You thank high heaven when he doesn’t chase after you, and you find Natasha and Wanda again, bunking down in Nat’s room for the night.

Things between you and Steve are awkward and tense for the first time in years. You’re both at odds and as much as it hurts to not be with him like normal, it hurts more knowing that he was part of what caused it.

Natasha is kind enough to share her room with you for a few days and when you start to overstay your welcome your room feels like a prison cell. The bed you share is too small, but Steve mercifully keeps his distance. It’s a rough couple of weeks before you find a doctor that you can talk to over the phone and after discussing your concerns and listening with an open heart she sets you up with an appointment.  

When you tell Steve it settles some of the tension between you. He just wants you healthy and your hang ups aren’t something he can understand or relate to -even when you open up to him and tell him everything. He’s usually so empathetic and understanding, but for some reason there’s just a disconnect that he can’t bridge. He wants to understand. He wants to believe you, but he just can’t help but feel like you’re being dramatic and overly sensitive to it, so he keeps his distance on the subject. As long as you’re taking care of yourself he won’t push it.  

Between missions popping up and your irregular periods reigning down endless sabotage you end up scheduling and cancelling four different appointments. The waiting game is inconvenient, stressful, and has more and more anxiety settling in your gut. It’s a shift in you that Steve easily notices and is a little surprised by, but your fifth attempt appointment date finally arrives without a hitch.

The two of you leave Stark Tower with dark shades and hats on, just in case. The subway is dark and all too bright at the same time, everything about the strangers caging you in as you reach your final destination making you almost nauseated with worry. The office is nice but still smells like old paper and hand sanitizer, and Steve sits with you as you fill out the forms that seem to never end.

“I didn’t think there would be so many questions,” he says, flipping the already filled out pages through his fingers. “You’ve been here for almost an hour just filling out forms… do they really need to know all of this if they’re looking at just one part of you.”

“Welcome to Womanhood, Captain.” The sarcasm doesn’t erase your distress, it barely hides it.

When you’re finally called back by the nurse Steve follows behind you. She puts up a feeble hand before her eyes scan his face. Pink crawls over her cheeks as she steps aside, giddy and half-focused as she takes your height and weight.

Steve stands there with your purse and shoes in his hand, a polite smile on his face as she composes herself and leads you both to the examination room.

Her words are simple. “The provider will be in soon.” And when the door shuts behind her, silence fills the already uncomfortable room.

Ten minutes pass before a different nurse comes in to take your vitals and ask a series of questions that weren’t on any of the forms you’d filled out. She seems to be completely oblivious to who you and Steve are and explains what they’ll be doing during this visit before setting out the instruments needed on a sterile cloth on the counter top.

“Go ahead and undress completely. This is the top, to be worn like a vest, and this is a sheet for the bottom,” she explains, holding the flimsy items up for display. “The provider will be in as soon as she can.” The door clicks behind her and you let out a huff.

“Why do they keep calling the doctor ‘the provider’?” Steve asks as you start undressing and handing him each item of clothing to fold into his lap.

“It’s supposed to be more removed and less personal than ‘doctor’ so you don’t feel like you’re being touched intimately, I guess.”

“I get the idea, but ‘provider’ sounds worse. Like you’re being probed.”

“Welcome to Womanhood, Captain,” you sneer with a fake salute that has Steve stiffening in his seat.

The sound of crinkly paper fills the room as you wrap the gown pieces across your body and try to find a way to secure them so you don’t have to actively hold them shut.

Steve smirks. “Nice outfit.”

You do a few model poses and spin around for him. “Oh, thanks. Wanna try it on?” The fake smile on your face turns to a real one at the way he chuckles.

Minutes that seem like hours pass at an agonizing pace, the build up and anticipation only making you more of a nervous wreck. The exam table beneath you is too firm and uncomfortable, so with a huff you jump off and Steve moves your clothes and purse to the counter so you can sit in the chair beside him.

The room is cold and quiet aside from your deep breaths and the hum of the fluorescent lights. Steve is at a loss for words, but he tries to comfort you. It doesn’t work. Every shift you make is loud, and soon the temperature of the room clings to your skin and worms past the paper dress you’re in. His arm wraps around you in an attempt to keep you warm, but it rips the fabric along your shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he spits out the second he realizes what’s happened.

A long sigh turns into grumbling as you get up and start digging through the drawer the nurse had opened earlier. He wants to help, to comfort you, but he can’t. Steve isn’t used to feeling helpless, so he stands and paces back and forth when you take your seat on the exam table, again.

A knock on the door has you perking up, and the nurse from before enters the room. “So, the provider is going to need a urine sample,” she says, holding up the plastic cup and alcohol wipe. “You can get dressed and use the restroom two doors down, and when you come back in I’ll have you get undressed and into a new gown.”

Your eyes roll but Steve jumps in, polite as ever as the nurse turns to leave the room. “Thank you.”

He hands you your clothes and when you come back from the restroom, pee cup in tow, the room is even colder than it was before.

“Jesus Christ, it’s freezing in here,” you shiver.

“I actually asked a nurse about it while you were gone. She said she’d try to fix it. I’d try to keep you warm, but-”

“Yeah, apparently Cap beats Paper,” you smirk, the mood light for a moment while you undress and re-robe.

Time passes like molasses. You’re looking at the purple hue under your fingernails when you finally ask, “What time is it?”

His brows knit together as he looks at his watch. “Holy shit. It’s almost three.”

“Language, Captain,” you smirk, all too unamused with this entire ordeal.

“We’ve been here for almost three hours. Why does this take so long?” he asks, voice quiet but appalled as he examines the tools set out on the counter.

“Gotta set the mood,” you laugh humorlessly, flopping back onto the table, not even caring about modesty or comfort anymore. Before you can speak, Steve takes the words right out of your mouth.

“This is exhausting.”

A breathy laugh leaves your mouth and another half hour passes before a knock on the door has you sitting up with a groan.

“Hello, Y/n,” the doctor smiles and extends her hand. “I’m Dr. Nakalah.”

Shaking her hand, you nod. “Nice to meet you. And thank you for speaking with me over the phone. Like I said, this is-” the words sit heavy on your tongue and your eyes begin to glass.

“It’s alright. Women’s health is a very personal thing and I want you to feel as comfortable as possible.” Her kindness and honesty warms your heart and she gives you a moment while she turns to Steve.

He stands and offers his hand, voice deep and soothing. It’s for you, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. “Steve Rogers- Y/n’s boyfriend.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Steve. Thank you for coming with Y/n today. These things can feel invasive and be a bit overwhelming, so it’s always nice to see partners supporting each other.”

Pepper’s doctor might be one of the best but you’re happy you went with Dr. Nakalah. She’s human.

“So, Y/n, we’re going to do a Well Woman Exam today. That includes a breast exam, pap smear, and pelvic exam. In a minute I’ll have my medical assistants step in to help me with the exam and record the data.”

Her eyes flit to Steve and you clear your throat. “Um, can he stay in during the exam?”

“We don’t usually allow anyone else in the room, but with what we discussed, if you would feel more comfortable with him here, then yes, he can stay. If not, there’s a separate waiting room just around the corner.”

Steve hides his smile when you say, “I’ll have him stay.”

Two gentle knocks on the door prompt Dr. Nakalah to stand, the two nurses from before entering the room with polite smiles. The one with the laptop stands by the door as the other goes to the counter, ready to help the doctor with the exam.

“Ready?” Dr. Nakalah asks.

Your brows scrunch together and you half laugh out the words, “Hell no.” Steve goes rigid, but your smile breaks the tension and has all of the women in the room chuckling. A begrudging groan fills the room and you nod to the doctor, her voice calm as she begins.

“Like we talked about on the phone, I’ll talk you through everything we’re doing. Go ahead and lay back, then lift your arm over your head.” Nodding, you do as she says. The paper crinkles as you move it aside and her hands are gentle as she starts applying pressure to your breast. “We’re gonna feel around for any lumps or differences in breast tissue. You can do this at home routinely, and if you notice anything contact us and schedule and exam immediately.”

Your head turns and you catch Steve’s eyes. They’re filled with concern, but this isn’t the part you have any trouble with. ‘I’m good’ you mouth, and his shoulders lower a little.

She examines each breast and nods down at you. “Ok, everything felt normal. We’re going to go into the pap, now. Please put your feet into the stirrups and scoot to the edge of the table. Your butt should be almost off the edge of it.”

A hard lump forms in your throat but you do as she asks. Your thighs are still shut tight and the thought of having to expose yourself so fully has you sucking in a ragged breath. The doctor waits patiently, giving you the time to do it yourself. At the edge of the table, you mentally prepare yourself and let your knees fall open a bit, your neck straining a bit to look at the doctor.

“Is that far enough?” you ask.

“Just a little more,” she instructs, asking you to scoot closer and open your legs more. “Ok, good.”

When you look again, Steve has stood and is off to the side of the doctor, wanting to watch the process that plagues you so painfully. The line of his jaw is set tight and his eyes are laser focused when the assistant behind her clicks open the cap and lubes the speculum, handing it to your doctor and grabbing the swabs.

“Alright, I’m going to insert the speculum and open it up, then we’ll get a swab of your cervix. Try to relax and take deep breaths for me.”

As she moves the tool toward you, you decide you can’t watch. Your head thunks against the padded table as you heave in a breath, trying to control it as the speculum tip is pressed against your lips. There’s a little bit of resistance, and you open your legs further before it starts sliding in. Wrenching your eyes closed and curling your fists into the thin paper, the plastic stops, caught on your labia.

“Just gonna push this in a little more,” she says, and then there’s a bit of weight behind her hand where it is pushed in as far as it needs to be.  

“I’m gonna open this up and do a couple of swabs. You’ll feel some little pressure, here, Y/n,” she warns.” The speculum opens, and the pressure isn’t too bad. It’s definitely not comfortable, but you aren’t in pain, so you risk a glance.

The look on Steve’s face is one you’ve never seen before. It’s a mixture of shock, mortification, guilt, worry, and fear.

Dr. Nakalah takes the swabs from her assistant and meets your eyes, shooting you an encouraging and comforting nod. The discomfort is temporary and before you have time to overthink and panic, she’s speaking again. “Done with that, just going to remove this.”

It’s an odd feeling that sends a shiver crawling up your spine and fluttering in your gut as the plastic slips out of you. As exposed as you still are, it’s much better than the vulnerability of being splayed open in front of everyone.

“Alright. Doing great. For the pelvic exam I’m going to place a finger inside and press down on your lower abdomen and pelvic area to feel for any irregularities and check your ovaries. Keep breathing, nice and even, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, watching as she stands from her stool. The assistant places lube on Dr. Nakalah’s gloved finger and then she’s standing between your legs. One hand placed atop your pelvis, her finger pushes into you, the hand on your pelvis applying pressure as she feels for any abnormalities. “Alright, and we’re done,” she says, easing her finger out of you and stepping back.  

Steve comes to your side, left a little dazed by what he saw, but he helps you to sit up as your feet drop slowly out of the stirrups. His hands are warm on your back and you pull the sheet back over your lap while the nurses and doctor collect the samples and remove their gloves. “Okay, Y/n, you can get dressed and one of the nurses will be back in a few minutes to schedule your follow up. We’ll give you a call when your results are back, and if you have any questions or would like to talk about the visit today please feel free to call any time.”

“Thank you so much.”

She shakes your hand again, eyes kind and warm, then shakes Steve’s hand and leaves. When it’s just the two of you in the room again, Steve’s deep voice is in your hairline. “You did great, sweetheart.”

Eyes shut, you’re able to let out the shudder that had sunk into your bones, a noise coming from your mouth as you let it go and shake your hands and head to get it out. Your posture deflates while you simply sit for a second and calm your racing heart. When you shift to stand, the excess lube slips through your labia and you wince, turning to your boyfriend.

“Can you, um, can you turn around for a minute?” He seems a little puzzled, but complies with your request.

Hopping off the table, you use the sheet you were wrapped in to wipe between your legs, then crinkle it up into a ball. There’s still lube down there, so you find the tissues on the counter and use a few to wipe away and scoop out what’s left from the exam. Steve is still facing the wall and when you pull the tissue away there’s a mixture of lube and blood. A flicker of fear ignites in your chest and you wipe a couple more times until the blood and lube are gone.

Tossing the paper and pulling on your clothes warmth seeps back into your skin and you let out a small, happy sigh when you’re fully dressed again.

“Ok, you can turn around, now.” He does, and you smile at him from the sink. “Thank you.”

You can’t wash your hands fast enough and you don’t even bother to dry them before crashing yourself into his chest. A hum vibrates against your cheek and his thick arms wrap around you, holding you tight.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I didn’t believe you. I didn’t think this was a big deal and I hate that I hurt you. I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like to be on your side of that, but I have a better understanding of what this means to you, now, and I’m so proud of you for staying as calm as you did while you went through that.”

Tears cloud your eyes and you simply bury yourself deeper in his chest, happy that you have your Steve back. He exudes tranquility and you bask in it, evening your breathing to match his beating heart, not pulling away from his hold until the nurse is knocking on the door again. She sets a follow up for you and asks if you have any questions.

“Um, yeah. Uhh, when I cleaned up the lube there was-” you clear your throat- “I was bleeding…”

Steve’s eyes shoot open wide as the nurse nods. “Some bleeding or spotting and cramping can be normal after a pap. If it’s excessive then you’ll need to come back in or go to an emergency room, but it’s usually just the day of or the day after,” she explains, and your unease is sated.

You nod and smile. “Oh, ok, perfect. It freaked me out and I just wanted to check.”

“Yeah, it should be fine. Just monitor it. And here’s your next appointment for follow up.” She hands you an appointment card. “Dr. Nakalah’s number is on there, as well, so you can call the office or call her directly if you need to cancel, reschedule, or have any more questions. Thank you, and have a great rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” you and Steve chime in unison, smiles on all of your faces as she leaves.

When the two of you exit the building, the sky outside is gold and orange and pink with blue bits starting to fade in. The air is a little cooler on your skin and your hand finds Steve’s out of instinct. He sighs- full chested, tongue swiping quickly over his lips with squinted eyes.

When he looks down at you a residual shiver runs up your spine and he pulls you into his side. Breathing him in, his scent and warmth soothe you. With your feet moving together, slowly, but in sync, he hums, voice a little more timid than before.

“I’m sorry, again, Y/n. For all of it.”

“Thank you for coming with me; for seeing for yourself.”

Steve stops you, those oceanic eyes making you melt into him. He drops his mouth, lets the space between you linger. Then, he closes in with a weight behind his actions, fingertips slipping up into your hairline as he holds you there to make sure he’s getting it all right.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed in almost a month. It’s filled with apologies and love, one kiss to make up for all the time he didn’t spend kissing you. The sounds of the street fade away and in the middle of a busy world it’s just the you and your Steve- mouth to mouth, heart to heart.

The rest of the way home you keep yourself pressed up against his side, shuddering at random until you’re in the safety of your room again. Undressing each other slowly and kissing with no destination in mind, Steve leaves your needy lips to run a bath and when the water’s warm and the enormous tub is full, he pulls you into it, your chest pressed against his as he hums an old song into your hair.

“Ya know, if anything can make me forgive Tony, it’s this bathtub.”

Laughter echoes off the bathroom walls and Steve nods down at you, asking, “Will you talk to him?”

There’s an attempt to mask your pain, but he sees past it. You shrug. “Probably not.”

Steve lets out a sigh and you know he’s a little disappointed with that answer.

Knocking on the bathroom door has you both at attention and Steve going to get up from the tub when Tony’s voice filters in from the other side. “Y/n, you in there?”

Steve’s voice is teeming with intrigue and his eyebrow quirks up when he sinks back down into the hot water. “Speak of the devil.”

“Yeah, Tony. What’s up?” Your eyes roll and Steve shoots you a look that says, ‘give him a chance’, so you pull a face but listen when Tony starts talking.

“Ah, yeah, so I just wanted to say sorry for the whole, well, you know. And, uhh, I’m sorry if you felt like- ow.” Tony stops and the two of you look at each other, puzzled for a moment before the muttering on the other side of the door and an audible smack reach your ears.

“Start over right now, Tony,” Pepper demands in a harsh whisper.

Ear-to-ear smiles bloom on your faces when you and Steve lock eyes and Tony starts over again. “I’m sorry for not realizing that surprising you with a gynecologist isn’t a good surprise.”

“Jesus Christ,” Pepper hisses, making you and Steve suppress your laughter.

“And it was wrong of me to assume that would be okay?” He stops for a beat and you can practically see him on the other side of the door looking at Pepper to see if his words are the ones she wants him to say. “Yes. I shouldn’t have done that to you, aaaand-”

“It won’t happen again.” Pepper whispers.

“It won’t happen again.” Tony declares.

Silence fills the room and when nothing else comes from his end, Steve wraps his hand around yours. “Well?”

“With an apology like that?”

Steve shrugs and you half laugh, half sigh before calling out, “Thank you, Pepper.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You’re welcome, Y/n,” she replies.

“Um, no, sorry, Pepper isn’t here right now.”

“We left a few gifts on the bed for you. And sorry again, sweetheart,” she says through the door. Tony keeps rambling but the sound soon fades as she drags him out of your room.

Steve chuckles deep and pulls you back to his chest, strong arms wrapping around you so he can whisper in your ear. “Better?”

Steve won’t doubt you again, and even with Pepper coaching Tony through his apology, you can tell that he knows he was wrong. The two of them can’t erase what they did, but it sure as hell won’t happen again.

“Y/n?” Steve asks, blue eyes looking at you like you’re all that’s good in the world.

Warmth fills your heart and you nod your head. “Better.”

When the water is only mildly warm and your fingers are pruney Steve pulls you out of the tub and wraps you in a plush, warm towel. True to Pepper’s words, a spread of gifts is laid out at the foot of your bed.

“Champagne, chocolate, flowers?” Steve turns to you with a sly grin. “Looks like Tony’s done his fair share of apologizing to women.”

You laugh and Steve plucks a note from the flowers, handing it to you while he clears the bed.

‘I messed up and you deserved better than what I gave you. Sorry, Kid.’

It’s somehow exactly what you need to hear from him.

A pop startles you but you smile when Steve offers you a glass of champagne and puts on some music. Champagne kisses are shared while the two of you sway to the music in just your towels and when your glasses are empty you get comfy for bed.

When Steve’s blue crystals turn into bedroom eyes you crawl up the bed and into his open arms. Fitting yourself perfectly in his hold, he wraps you up in a powerful kiss that makes you forgive and forget all the hell he’d put you through.

He has just one thing on his mind, and he’s only just getting started making it up to you.

Tags for my marvel list and for everyone who said they’d be interested in reading this. Thanks guys :)

@sebbytrash @becs-bunker @curlyblondexoxo @ellen-reincarnated1967 @plaidstiel-wormstache @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @the-nonsenseblog @ilovefanfic86 @missnighttigress @feelmyroarrrr @abeautifulandterriblemind @thelilbutifulthings @gryffindorable713 @shannon124 @disney-fire-fox 

[surrounded-by-superheroes]

Queen Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER ELEVEN HERE.

Summary; A shape-shifting girl with a bad past is recruited by Nick Fury into the Avengers. It’s there that she finally starts learning to let people in again and she’s especially intrigued by a blond haired and blue eyed Captain America. Will she learn to let him in? Will her past actually stay in the past?

A/N; Uhhhhh, sorry.

Warnings; This is a dark chapter, guys. Flashbacks, blood, torture, language.

Words; 2,961

Chapter Twelve

Little Dory

“No.” Voltage runs through me and I spasm in the chair, my back arching and a scream tearing its way out of my throat.

“We were kind to you before, dear Victoria, because you were our one success. That’s changed. Although, we’re even being kind to you now by offering you a choice. Now, either you kill them now, or, we remove your memories and you kill them then. Either way, they die. Either way, you kill them. Choose, or we will choose for you.” My mother says in her creepily smooth voice. She lays her hand on my forehead and I turn my head away in disgust. Her hand rescinds and I feel the bigger, rougher hand of my father’s replace it.

“V, we made you who you are. We can unmake you.” He sighs, his deep voice almost makes the chair I’m in vibrate because of the resonance. “We’d rather not because there’s a risk you’ll lose all physical memory as well, meaning we’d have to retrain you, but we are willing to make that sacrifice.” He says, resigned. “That is the choice that will be made for you, if you do not follow our orders. Your memories will be taken from you.” I am now biting my tongue to keep myself from crying. I turn back and look at him. I have always hated how I still look like my parents. I have my father’s curly hair and his skin tone. I have my mother’s nose and uneven lips. My eyes are the both of theirs combined; my mother’s brown and my father’s green. Unlike them, I have small lines beside my eyes from smiling while my father has lines in his forehead from squinting at petri dishes. My mother has deeper, curved lines around her mouth that appear when she frowns, telling others that she frowns often. I meet my father’s eyes with determination and shake my head again.

“No.” I decline their ‘kind’ offer once again, knowing that it’s the last time. Both of my parents sigh, but my mother waves over an orderly of sorts who rushes over with a tray of tools. She pulls on her gloves and exchanges places with my father, both of them looking grim.

“Now, this is going to be different than all the other times. We have made a new surgery!” Some excitement tints my mother’s voice and I do my best not to cringe away from her. She holds up a thin metal looking wire that can’t be more than two feet long. “I’ll insert this directly into your brain via your nose and put both ends against your hippocampus. That’s where your memories are. Then, we’ll channel volts of electricity through the wire and into your brain. Thus, erasing your memories, but hopefully not your physical responses.” She explains with glee, and I shut my eyes and think of Tony saying I’m not a monster. How can I not be, with parents like these? God, what I wouldn’t give to see his smirk or Steve’s blue eyes. I was an idiot to come here alone. My eyes snap open when I feel a strap being fastened over my forehead and then over my chin.

“Wait, wait, wait. I have a question.” I beg for them to pause, and they do, surprisingly. I glance between my parents and ask them something I’ve been wondering for a long time. “Why did you do this to me? Why couldn’t you just…just love me?” I clench my teeth afterwards to prevent my tears from leaking out and wait for their answer. My father puts his arm around my mother and she glances up at him with a smile as he answers for them both.

“V, we do this because we love you. Can’t you see? We’re making you more than you are! A true marvel of science.” He says with a smile, and I can no longer withhold my tears. They spill out at a rapid pace, even more when my mother begins slowly inserting the thin wire in my nostrils. But I know it’s only discomfort compared to what they’re about to do. I pull against the restraints on my wrists and ankles and briefly think of shifting, but know the restraints have heat sensors in them. I’m sure the voltage they contain would knock an elephant on its ass, it definitely wouldn’t have a problem frying me. I shut my eyes and go over all my memories while I still can as I hear the familiar hum of electricity as the machine heats up. I go through each face of the team, leaving Nat, Tony, and…Steve last. I regret that I never got to fight Natasha. I’m sure it would have been thrilling. I remember her arms around me when she surprised me with a hug, her brilliant red hair that I’m slightly jealous of, and the secret smile she gave me when I became a tiger. I think of Tony putting his arm around me, his hugs, his scruffy kisses on my forehead, his stupid teasing and the way he broke down all my emotional walls with simply holding my hand and kissing my knuckles. I almost smile when I think of his unique smell; new cars, oil, and Axe deodorant. Finally, I think of Steve, my Steve. Those killer blue eyes and the fact that he never wanted to kill anyone. His hands squeezing my thighs, then my hand, then my waist. Our first kiss in that crowded club after dancing for two nights in a row. How our lips fit together and danced better than our bodies ever could. Me singing to him. His quiet voice singing to me on our first date, showing his vulnerability before he even knew I didn’t deserve it. His voice is the last thing I hear before the searing pain starts and all thought is whisked away by agony. After a while, I can’t even recall anything for me to hold on to anyway. Not even my own name. All that’s left is a man’s voice, soft and pleasing, singing a song I’ve never heard.

“And like an echo from far away, the nightingale sang in Berkeley Square…”

I wake up suddenly, covered in sweat. My eyes snap open to find myself not in my cage, but in a bed. I take a deep breath to calm myself and find that Tony’s scent swirls inside my nose, comforting me more than a dozen deep breaths could. As quietly as possible, I sit up and look around. Tony is at my side, reclining in a brown leather armchair. Captain America sits in another chair, but one that definitely doesn’t look as comfortable as Tony’s. I move to the side to get off the bed, but find Natasha sitting Indian style in the floor, her head resting on her hand that’s resting on her knee. All of them are asleep, watching me, I assume. It’s tempting to wake up Tony. Just so I can talk to him, hug him, hear his voice, but I resist. He probably needs his rest. I glance back at Natasha as I hear her sigh. As soon as I see her head of red hair, images flash through my head all of her. With them is a stinging pain inside my head, so intense I freeze and shut my eyes. Once my memories of Nat are restored I open my eyes and a couple tears slip out. I wiggle out from under the covers and crouch on the bed. I shift into a blue-bird, wanting not to wake them. I fly to the door, then shift into a ladybug to slip through the crack. I do so then shift back into myself once I’m outside. I need some space to think. I walk briskly to the left, looking for an empty room to just sit and think in. When I see the reflection of water on the ceiling inside a room, I burst into the room and grin at the sight of water. Surveying the room, I spot a closet door and run over to it, yanking open the door. I change into one of the dozens of suits within and slip quietly into the pool. Gills appear on my neck as I sink to the bottom of the deep end. I take a deep breath as peace settles within me, but my mind is anything but peaceful.

I sort through my jumbled-up mind. Since yesterday, everything seems like it’s been misplaced. I go back to yesterday first. I remember everything that happened, including remembering Tony. But everything is conflicting with each other. I remember my sweet Tony, the one who loves to put his arm around me, give me scruffy forehead kisses, and lets me sleep in his bed when I’m scared. I also remember being shown pictures of Tony and the firm feeling of enemy, target, and danger. The same with Natasha. Slowly, I lean back until I’m lying on the floor of the pool, staring up at the barely moving surface. I’m sure if I weren’t underwater, I’d be crying. Instead, I scream under the water as frustration engulfs me. My nightmare is fresh in my mind as well, although my consciousness had forgotten it before reliving it. Who to trust? The supe-my parents? Or Tony and the others who seem to know me? The answer seems obvious, but with my mind like this; coherent thought seems too good to be true. Slight movement draws my eyes to the side of the pool, beyond the surface. I rise to the top immediately, curious to see who it is. My head breaks the surface and I smile; Tony.

“I thought this is where you might be, little Dory.” He says, smiling sleepily. I lift myself out of the pool on the side opposite of him, not wanting to get him wet. I hold out a hand as if I can hold him there by sheer force of will.

“Don’t go anywhere, please.” I beg him. He nods once.

“I won’t leave. I promise.” I consider his eyes and find them trustworthy. I run to the closet and dry off as quickly as possible, wrapping my hair in a towel after wiping myself down. Frowning, I stare at the clothes I’ve had on since leaving the compound. A gentle knock at the door has me almost jumping into a new skin, but I relax when I hear Tony’s voice on the other side of the door. “Queen?” I grin at the nickname. “I brought you some new clothes. Yes, I know I broke the rules by leaving, but I thought you’d appreciate it anyway.” I open the door while hiding behind it and watch Tony take in my towel-hair. “Sexy.” He says simply and I laugh. His face lights up at the sound as he hands me my clothes.

“Thank you.” I take them and shut the door, changing quickly. The clothes are simple. A black tank-top and red plaid pajama pants. Along with underwear and a bra of course. I shake my head as I put them on. I still remember that shopping trip we took, although some parts are fuzzier than others. After changing I jump out and immediately look for Tony. He’s still there, lounging on a laid back beach chair. I sigh in relief and head over to him.

“I’m thinking it’s a safe assumption to say you remember me?” He asks. I sit beside him so we’re squished together on the chair and my head is on his shoulder.

“Duh, Lord M. Your pungent smell is enough to bring someone back from death, bringing back some memories was no problem.” I tease and I can hear him smile. He wiggles a bit and wraps an arm around me, then pulls my head towards him for a scruffy forehead kiss. I turn on my side, giving both of us more room. I wrap an arm around his waist and lay my other arm on his chest, my hand on his heart. I shut my eyes, feeling more at home than I have in weeks.

““You know, you have a nice smell too.” He mumbles quietly. “There’s something wild about it, like you carry the smell of a rainforest or mountains or something. Then, you smell like sweat, but not like B.O., somehow your sweat smells like sunshine.” I stare at his closed eyes in shock, touched, but he isn’t finished. “And of course, you smell like home. Your clothes smell like my drawers and your hair smells like my detergent from sleeping in my sheets.”

“Thank you, Tony. I…I consider this home too. I’m sorry I ever left.” I finish quietly. As we sit in the silence, I interrupt it by humming the first song that comes to mind. A slow song with drawn out words and a haunting melody. I don’t know all the words, so I just settle for humming the tune. Tony interrupts me with his words, and I stop the tune, sadly.

“Do you want to talk about it, kiddo?” He asks me gently. My hand on his shirt turns into a fist and I turn my face towards his armpit; it smells very Tony there. After a couple deep breaths, I turn my face back out, Tony’s chin reflexively resting on my head.

“Everything is still so mixed-up in my head. I mean, I remember you and all my memories with you, but I also remember seeing pictures of you and the intense feeling that you were bad.” I move back to look at his face. “Which you aren’t, obviously.” I assure him and he pulls me back to him.

“Damn. They must have rewired your brain. It’s actually not as advanced as one might think. Lobotomies did basically the same thing, but in this instance, they seem to have refined it and made it specific to us. They erased us from your mind and replaced us with others to suit their own desires.” Tony thinks aloud and I cringe slightly at the mention of lobotomies.

“Well, electricity definitely had a hand in it.” I say sarcastically, remembering the pain. Tony’s arm tightens around me as if he knows what I’m thinking. “Geez, I don’t even know the date. What’s the date?” I ask him, irritated with myself.

“September twenty-eighth. I’m assuming you don’t need to know the year?” Tony teases and I smack his chest.

“The twenty-eighth, huh? You know, the thirtieth is my birthday.” I muse, happy to be thinking about things as harmless as birthdays.

“Really? Your twenty-first, right?” Tony asks, his voice already telling me the gears in his brain are turning a mile a minute.

“Tony, don’t even think about doing anything. Just let it pass.” I tell him, but he scoffs. I sigh and roll my eyes. He won’t be forgetting that anytime soon. We sit quietly, peaceably, until it’s shattered.

“What did they do?” Tony asks tentatively, afraid of the answer. I shut my eyes as I sigh.

“They…put metal through my nose and attached it to my hippocampus,” I explain, remembering the explanation clearly, “then administered various levels of electricity to it so that I’d forget my memories.” I finish.

“My God. I’m so sorry, Queen.” He tugs me ever closer and wraps both of his arms around me. I do the same and sniffle quietly.

“That isn’t why I get upset. I’m upset because those people up there, I know them, don’t I? But I can’t remember them for who they are, I just have my false memories of them. That’s what kills me. I don’t even know my own life.” I say sadly.

“Oh, honey. You’ll get your life back, alright? You already remember me, so it won’t be long until you remember the others too. Don’t worry.” Tony comforts me and I let myself believe his words.

“I’m happy to have you, Tony.” I tell him quietly. He makes a sound of acknowledgement, sounding a little sleepy. “And I want you to know…I love you Tony.” I say hesitantly. Those words carry a lot of weight for me. When I receive a scruffy kiss, I relax again, although I didn’t realize I’d gone stiff.

“I love you too, kiddo. Obviously.” Tony responds before just resting his lips on my hair. I giggle slightly and move away from him a little to look at his face.

“And it’s because I love you that I’m going to tell you that you’re looking a little rough.” I tell him and stroke my chin where a beard would be if I had one. He shrugs and smiles, copying my gesture with a spare hand.

“Ah, yeah. I haven’t really felt like shaving. I haven’t even slept since, God knows when.” He meets my eyes and shrugs. “Probably a month.” I frown at him as I lay by head back on his shoulder.

“Tony. You should take care of yourself better.” I scold him. He huffs.

“Gee, sorry I didn’t feel like shaving while you were missing for a month, Victoria.” He sasses and I sigh.

“Tony, I can smell the alcohol on your breath.” I tell him quietly. He doesn’t respond. “That isn’t who you are, Tony. My memories may be fuzzy, but you’re Iron Man. You’re a hero. Stay that way.” I tell him firmly. His chest shakes slightly and I realize he’s laughing.

“Oh, Queen. I missed you.” He says. I shut my eyes and nod.

“I missed you too, Tony. You have no idea.” I tell him and sigh, too comfortable for words. Sleep comes to take me and I give in, wholeheartedly.

Chapter Thirteen found HERE.

[thisnerdblog]

If you're still taking prompts: Hulk finally speaking to Nat for the first time possibly after the whole infinity war? Thank you!

I’m getting them done folks!! Look at me being productive!

~*~

It was remarkably quiet, the kind of quiet that pulses in your ears and sends you tumbling in your own head. The kind of quiet that could only appear after something terrible and heinous, the kind of quiet that comes after God himself had turned his back.

She is bruised and battered, but her pain was a distant thing, not yet important enough for her attention. So many people had died out there in that smoldering ruin of a battle field, so many people she had dared to call family; Steve, Rhodey, Wanda, Nick and despite the quick thinking of a Not-Racoon and a Child Tree Clint might suffer the same fate.

Even though they were victorious, it still felt like a failure, Natasha thought. She slumped against a crumpled brick wall, she felt lost, she didn’t know what to do, where should she go how she was going to go on. Her chest hurt, clamped in the teeth of a press of grief and anguish.

Perhaps she should push herself to her feet and walk. Just walk and keep walking, past these crumbling ruins, the survivors wandering in a daze, the SHEILD and other Suits from different Agencies crawling like ants trying to create some sort of order, walk past the damage, past the blood and keep going until she reaches the sea and the deep dark that would be waiting for her there.

She was just about to head off into that void when Hulk wandered from behind a half intact wall. He was being careful, sticking close to walls out of the rescue teams’ way, tip toeing around survivors, he looked as lost as she felt. Part of her whished he wouldn’t see her, wouldn’t stop her running, but another part didn’t.

He spies her and he immediately perks up, his face lighting up just like Bruce’s, and that makes the clamp around her chest squeeze tighter.

He stands before her, nervously twisting his fingers waiting for her to say something.

She doesn’t, but she pats the bricks at her side.

He eagerly takes her invitation.

He sits next to her quietly, neatly sitting cross-legged, twiddling his thumbs in his lap. She inspects him out of the corner of her eye, he looked no less worse for wear, whole but banged up, punctures and liaisons already knitting themselves back together. Gray dust speckled his wide shoulders like freckles and turned his dark hair even grayer than it had been.

“Will you leave?” He asked, keeping his eyes on his thumbs.

Would she?

She’d like to, but would that solve anything? Would that help anyone? Would that help her?

Instead of saying any of that, a hard-gritted quip came before she could stop it.

“You did.”

He flinched, sinking further into his shoulders, slumping down upon himself. That made the clamp ease and allow a boiling red anger bubble free like a whistling kettle.

“You took him from me.” She growled, gnashing her teeth and curling her fingers. She threw herself from the wall to pace before him like a caged tiger.

“We had something, we could have made something, but you didn’t give us that chance. You took away our choice, you fled like a coward, you didn’t allow him to face me and argue with me. You left me alone.” She could feel the hot tears prick at the corners of her eyes, she brushed them away. “You had no intention of coming home, did you? You were just going to keep Bruce locked away from people that loved him forever.”

Hulk had perked up opening his mouth to defend himself.

“No!” She shouted rounding on him. “No! You could get out, you could take charge, you were both learning. You weren’t going to come back. You took away years from him.”

Hulk bowed his head.

Natasha huffed and threw herself back on the wall, nails biting deep into her palms.

Neither of them talked for a bit, Natasha’s boiling temper simmering out into the waiting tiredness. Tears escaped from the corners of her eyes, there was no energy left within her body to even attempt to wipe them away. She sagged into herself, the invisible led weights around her neck pulled her further and further toward the underworld.

“I won’t go away again.” He turned to face her, dark eyes deep and doleful and all Bruce. “We’re done running.”

She swallows the thick lump in her throat.

He held out his giant green hand, dirt and muck caked into the deep swirls and whorls on the soft pads of his fingers.

“We Promise.”

She hoped to God he would; she didn’t know if she could stand it if she were to lose anyone else.

She grasped his finger tight like a lifeline. “Good.”

[thetrumpdebacle]

WASHINGTON — Juan Soto finished a round of batting practice here Saturday and when he stepped out of the cage, he deliberately pantomimed the finish to his swing, the sort of thing you see from veterans but rarely from teenagers. Soto is a 19-year-old with unusual maturity, someone who already has an understanding of the strike zone and how his own mind works best — that for him, obsessive video study can clutter the brain.

Soto looks like he’s going to be around a long time with the Nationals. Max Scherzer is right in the middle of what might turn out to be the best long-term contract for a pitcher, because he appears to be the reigning Best Pitcher On The Planet with no end to his reign in sight; he threw his bullpen session Saturday in full game uniform, in keeping with Scherzer’s belief that you should practice the way you play.

• Phillies not about to go away » • Nats’ offense coming up short »

Shortstop Trea Turner is 24, talented starting pitcher Erick Fedde is 25, third baseman Anthony Rendon is 28, outfielder Michael Taylor 27. Washington holds club options on 31-year-old closer Sean Doolittle for 2019 and 2020.

The national narrative on the Nationals has been that 2018 is the last year of their window of championship opportunity, particularly with Bryce Harper headed into free agency in the fall and the Braves and the Phillies on the ascent in the NL East. But with Soto, Scherzer and the others tied to Washington beyond this season, it seems inevitable that the Nationals will continue to contend regardless of whether Harper stays.

Harper’s tortured performance seems to have eased just a bit in recent days, with the quality of his plate appearances improving and the promise of a second-half surge hovering. It’s unclear whether he’ll bounce back, and how his first-half slump will impact his free agency and the chances of his return to the Nationals.

Harper is hitting .212 with 19 homers and a .353 on-base percentage, and executives with other teams offered some early speculation this week that a down year for Harper could increase the chances he returns to the Nationals — because they understand Harper more than other teams, and understand that in those periods when he eases the paralytic pressure he places on himself, he is a dynamic force. Since Harper began his career, there has been an expectation that he would approach a record-setting contract in free agency.

But some executives wonder if Harper’s 2018 struggles continue, a better option could be to take a shorter-team deal with an opt-out, to give Harper a mulligan and another launch year; after all, Harper is only 25 years old. “That could work for him, and for the Nationals,” said one evaluator.

News from around the major leagues

As Orioles lefty Zach Britton lingered in the trade market last summer, the Dodgers and the Astros were among the teams that felt as if they wasted a lot of time talking with the Orioles — because in their view, Baltimore struggles with the process. The Orioles have a different perspective on this, predictably, with some club officials believing that in the end, they assessed the question of whether the offers on the table were worthwhile and decided to keep Britton. But because of how those conversations played out, some rival executives say they won’t actively engage the Orioles — rather, they’ll wait for the Orioles to come to them with hard proposals.

• Pick-by-pick results from Day 1 • Law’s Day 1 winners and losers • Tigers take Auburn’s Mize No. 1 • Sooners QB Murray picked ninth by A’s • Law: AL team-by-team breakdown • Law: NL team-by-team breakdown

Evaluators with other teams say Baltimore isn’t really pushing any Manny Machado trade talk yet. It may be that in order for the Orioles to get solid return on Machado, a major injury to a contender is needed, because there are so many left-side infielders available and so few teams seemingly looking for a third baseman or a shortstop. Unless some team steps up aggressively to take Machado off the board, in the way that the Nationals moved aggressively on Kelvin Herrera, the Orioles could go into the last days before the trade deadline without significant offers on Machado. They could be left with the same choice that the Rangers had with Yu Darvish last summer: Take 60 cents on the dollar in value, or keep the player and get nothing more than a compensation draft pick.

“I’m not convinced [the Orioles] will actually trade him,” said one rival exec, “because I don’t know how attractive the offers will be.”

The Phillies have been rumored to be interested in Machado for the stretch drive, but it could be more likely that they’ll pursue him in free agency and try to fill need this summer with someone like Mike Moustakas.

• Nick Pivetta starts for the Phillies on Sunday Night Baseball, and he’s among the fastest-working pitchers in baseball, averaging about 22 seconds between deliveries. Pivetta explained that when he attended New Mexico Junior College, his head coach encouraged his pitchers to work fast, and if they didn’t, pitching coach Matthew Torrez would yell loudly, “THIS GAME IS BORING.” And the pitchers got the message.

Pivetta’s curveball is one of the best in the majors in its effectiveness — the value of his curve runs parallel to those of Justin Verlander and Aaron Nola — and he is throwing more and more of them. Pivetta used a conventional grip for his curveball, but when he went to a spike curve, the spin rate on the pitch improved markedly. … Pivetta grew up in Canada but was never interested in hockey, with its early-morning practices, and instead was always drawn to baseball.

• The Nationals made the first big strike of the summer trade market by adding Royals closer Kelvin Herrera. Washington acquired big bullpen pieces in the past, but this has caused clubhouse tension repeatedly for the Nationals — like when they added Jonathan Papelbon to replace Drew Storen as the closer. Given the generous personalities involved this year — Sean Doolittle, Ryan Madson, Herrera — there will not be a scrap over roles. … Herrera believes that his excellent command this season was built on the additional workouts he did during the winter. A long, ascending road leads to Herrera’s home in the Dominican Republic, and twice a week last winter, he would do a series of sprints up that road.

• The Phillies’ Odubel Herrera has been among the hottest hitters in baseball, clubbing a home run in five consecutive games during the past week. He probably leads the league in social interaction during his at-bats, often pausing to chat with the plate umpire between pitches — and each of Herrera’s plate appearances is like a separate chapter in each game, because he averages an MLB-high 29.5 seconds between pitches.

• The American League is all but fully declared in the separation of buyers and sellers, with an enormous gap between the best and worst teams. Because of that, some executives of NL and AL contenders expect that there will be a high volume of veterans available, especially in dollar dumps. “A lot of the deals that go down will be about saving two months’ worth of salary,” said one evaluator.

• Some NL officials believe that the Diamondbacks will be among the most aggressive teams before the trade deadline, because their window of opportunity could begin to close after this season. A.J. Pollock and Patrick Corbin will be free agents this winter, Paul Goldschmidt is eligible to hit the market after the 2019 season, and Mike Hazen’s front office is early in the process of rebuilding the farm system. “This might be their best chance for a while to win the [NL West],” said one evaluator.

• Union chief Tony Clark was roundly criticized by agents before and after the last collective bargaining negotiations because they felt he did not seek their feedback in suggestions and strategy — and instead, shut them out, before agreeing to a deal in which the union seemed to cede major ground to the owners. In recent months, with player unhappiness percolating, the union leadership has given signals that it wants to hear more from the agents.

• Mike Trout has compiled more than 1,000 games in his career, and countless kudos for the way he plays. Torii Hunter, Trout’s mentor and former teammate, refers to him as … The Digger, because of the divots he leaves as he’s sprinting to first base. Because Trout is so big, at about 240 pounds, and so fast and runs with such intensity every time, Hunter says that The Digger leaves the deepest divots of any player in baseball.

Baseball Tonight Podcast

A special Call To The Legends with Hall of Famer Pedro Martinez, who explains his philosophy about pitching inside and why he wasn’t afraid to retaliate, and his lingering questions about why he was left off voter ballots.

Friday: Karl Ravech on Manny Machado’s trade value and Mike Trout; Jessica Mendoza on Bryce Harper and Juan Soto; Marly Rivera about the Mets and Yoenis Cespedes.

Thursday: Phillies play-by-play man Scott Franzke on the team’s ascent, and the question of whether they’ll target Manny Machado in free agency; Sarah Langs plays The Numbers Game, with some great Trout notes on the eve of his career game No. 1,000; and Boog Sciambi on hyphenated pitching batteries, Giancarlo’s big moment and Trout.

Wednesday: Nationals GM Mike Rizzo on the Kelvin Herrera trade, Juan Soto’s plate discipline and the struggles of Bryce Harper; Jerry Crasnick on the dust-up between the Giants and Marlins, and the future of Mike Trout; and Paul Hembekides on why the Astros might be a lot better than anybody realizes.

Tuesday: Keith Law on the Kelvin Herrera trade; Seattle Times beat writer Ryan Divish about the surprising first half of the Mariners; Sarah Langs and The Numbers Game.

Monday: A conversation with Joe Maddon; Tim Kurkjian on the Astros’ win streak and a great Home Run Derby idea; Todd Radom’s weekly quiz.

And today will be better than yesterday.

via The Trump Debacle

[expositicn]

nat plucks the cigarette out of jackie's fingers and takes a drag. longer this time. when she's done, she doesn't hand it back, but keeps it perched between her fingers. chipped black nail polish and tiny scratches from a fall she'd taken on the field earlier that evening framed by smoke. she rests her forehead against the very bottom of the window like she's considering climbing out. it wouldn't be the first time, nor the last. "yeah. whose aren't," she echoes.

everyone was fascinated by jackie taylor. to nat, that much is just a fact. but she wonders if anyone else is fascinated for the right reasons. for the way she seems intent to claw her way out of the bubble she had been born into. then there was nat; sometimes desperate to claw her way in — but every time it would pop and she'd fall back down to earth. she'd wake up on a mattress that was older than she was under a roof of peeling paint and cracking plasterboard to the sound of her mother coughing in the other room.

when she woke up here it was... more peaceful. even the silences in her own house were loaded. a house. never really a home. after a long pause, she takes another drag and turns to face jackie completely. her jacket flops open slightly, slinking down her shoulder as she rests her arm on a bent knee. "there's a party tomorrow. some college kids." where they could be anonymous and cool. "you want to go?"

There's a scoff that threatens to slip out, a protest on how she already is relaxed, thank you very much poised on the tip of her tongue - but one look at that smile, brighter than anything Jackie's ever seen from Nat before, and it all dies halfway up her throat. All Jackie is, then, is quiet, perfectly still until the cigarette is offered her way. Jackie plucks it from Nat's fingers and slots it between her own, bringing it to her lips and inhaling with practiced ease.

Something about that feels strangely intimate this time, in a way even their kisses weren't: holding in nearly the same breath Nat just had deep in her lungs, before instinct finally forces her out the window to let it go. Just in time, too, given the snort that follows Nat's observation. "'Kind of's' putting it nicely," she shoots back, arm extended to hand the cigarette back to Nat again as she sits back up properly. "But, yeah. Don't think my mom'd know chill if it hit her in the face, and Dad..."

Well. He may not be as bad as her mother, but he rarely stepped in and stopped her. Not enough to stop Jackie from starving herself, or from shoving every last piece of authenticity down as far as she could just to keep them both happy a little while longer. "But, like - whose aren't though, right?"

[expositicn]

nat ducks down and shuffles forward, sitting on the ledge with her shoulder wedged underneath the open window. the lace curtains brush against her arm in the light breeze. she shuffles slightly further out and pulls a packet of cigarettes from her pocket. taking one out, she taps it against the packet. "relax, jack. not my first rodeo." their eyes meet ever so briefly and nat smiles. sweeter than any she's given before. it's over in a second - she leans out the window and cups a hand over the end of her cigarette as she lights it.

a deep inhale; eyes flutter closed. as promised, she aims the plume of smoke into the night air. when she turns back to jackie, she holds it out as a peace offering. one last thing to share before this moment inevitably goes away. she's been waiting since that first night - hands grabbed in the dark as they ran towards nothing together and ended up right here. since she woke up the next morning after the most peaceful night of sleep she'd had in a long time. not waiting for something bad to happen did wonders for a girl's sleep.

"they're kind of a lot, huh?" she nods towards the door. "your parents." she'd snooped in the medicine cabinet downstairs. at least most of mrs. taylor's prescriptions actually had her name on it, her mom couldn't say the same. nat pulls her knees up to her chest and leans back against the window frame.

"Oh." Wide eyes blinking, Jackie backs off, arms moving to wrap around her own knees instead. "Okay." The tidal wave of relief that follows nearly knocks her over with the strength of it, especially when it only grows in size once Nat dresses further and moves away. Looks like she really means it this time, then; that her no isn't actually some hidden puzzle Jackie's silently expected to decode.

The offer to smoke, however, is far less shocking. Classic Nat, really; but then again, it's not as if Jackie's about to say no. Sliding off the other side of the bed, Jackie only pauses to grab a pair of her own shorts and slide them on under Nat's shirt - just in case any of the neighbors are still up, or anyone else happens to walk by while they're in plain view - before making her way over to the window as well.

"Yeah, sure. Just -" Leaning over Nat, she opens her window as far as it'll go and meticulously pins each curtain back, before perching halfway on the edge of it. "Make sure it really goes outside. My parents'll kill me if the house smells like smoke later."

[expositicn]

if she were to ever imagine herself in a scenario like this with someone from the team, nat always thought it would be with someone she at least had something in commin with, like van or even shauna on a good day. but as her eyes move across jackie's back — the curve of her spine as she reaches over the side of the bed — nat smiles slightly. the very thought of jackie listening to mötley crüe almost makes her laugh. her smile wanes. "oh. no. you don't have to."

nat's casual shrug of indifference is sincere. yet she can still sense the hesitation. the idea that this was supposed to be a give and take arrangement. "i'm kinda tired anyway." she glances out of jackie's window to the little ledge looking over the neighbourhood. summer was gradually giving way to fall, the chill in the air hardening. she picks up her jeans and pulls them on, leather jacket soon slung over her sports bra.

nat didn't want to overstay her welcome in any capacity, but jackie's parents had long since gone to bed at the other side of the house. even that is a novelty. being far enough away from anyone else at night to be able to even say a sentence before they reached your door. she nods towards the window. "you wanna smoke?"

"I guess not. I mean, it's, like, what's supposed to happen, right?" Jackie answers as she finally sits up. Natalie's little anecdote doesn't exactly do anything to prove that thought wrong, after all.

At first, her sheets stay clutched tight to her chest, until Nat's I want to see you reverberates though her mind again. Slowly, Jackie lets them drop to pool at her waist, but it's still hard not to feel self-conscious as she fishes around the edge of the bed for the first piece of clothing she can find.

It's one of Nat's that she does, in the end, a t-shirt with some band on it that Jackie's never heard of before. Quickly, she yanks it over her head, smoothing her hair back down after before looking over at Nat again. She'd never admit it aloud, but the shirt is honestly better than anything she wears to school: oversized, comfortable, doesn't press into or constrict her in all the wrong places. Makes it a little easier to be honest. "That's what I thought, anyway. But now..." Lips quirking upward, for maybe the first time off of the soccer field, Jackie's more than happy to finish what Natalie started. "Definitely not bad, Scatorccio."

Then, that same weariness settles in again. The levity that had finally managed to imbue Jackie's expression shutters back down as she leans over, closer to Nat. "Do you want me to, like, do it back...?" This is, after all, where Jeff would start to insist on his turn. He didn't force her, not really - but he never really liked it if she didn't seem turned on by sucking him off, either. "I don't really know what I'm doing with a girl, though."

[expositicn]

nat starts to wonder if the point of this was to get back at jeff somehow. their relationship took more breaks than a shattered window. even jackie taylor couldn't put on a performance this good, however. nat shifts, sitting up properly with her legs crossed in a basket. hands clasped together, she picks at the already chipped black nail polish — wherever she may go, she'll leave a small trail behind. "that's fine."

no part of her had ever really felt protective of jackie until this very moment, whether she realises it or not. she's always existed on another plane. preppy girl who gets what she wants and doesn't care how it happens next to nat, the bird with a broken wing. maybe this arrangement was transactional. nat could sleep soundly somewhere a couple of nights a week and she could offer jackie a different type of comfort.

"i mean it's normal." her tongue runs thoughtfully across her bottom lip. "for a while i... couldn't. like, at all. no matter who i was with. even myself. and i'm not bad-" the joke dies in her throat. sure, her reasons were different, but that didn't mean they couldn't exist in the same space for a while. "are you... upset about it or...?" she almost offers to leave but no part of her wants to.

"Nope." Bubblegum lips pop around the 'p' in a manner that should be all shiny teenage girl, but there's a weariness dulling Jackie's eyes when they rise from where she lays to look at Nat. The moment doesn't last long, though; soon enough she has to look away, gaze cutting aimlessly across her room and fingers toying anxiously with the charm on her necklace, before she can bring herself to continue. "He tried and all, I guess, but... it never worked. I just faked it if he wouldn't let it go."

Why is she admitting any of this? Truths like these are vulnerable - even more so than Jackie had been mere minutes ago, with Nat still two fingers deep inside of her. So vulnerable that she's never told anyone before, not even Shauna. Barely even herself.

Besides... She loves Jeff, doesn't she? Shouldn't she?

Then again, there's good reason why they've broken up. Again. Does Jackie really owe it to him to keep all of his secrets so carefully hidden away any more? (And who the hell in Wiskayok would believe Nat over her, anyway, if she ever did decide to tell?)