#I don’t think that Tony at this point necessarily wants a woman to go home to every night

[daydreamerdrew]

Iron Man (1968) #63

[captainscanadian]

Long Way Home | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 3)

MY MASTERLIST

Series Masterlist

Summary: This urgent patient happened to be the last person Bucky had expected to be his patient. 

Word Count: 2921

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky Barnes x Doctor!Reader, Doctor!Pietro Maximoff

Warnings: Heart Disease, Hospital, Surgery.

A/N: Give it up for another clusterfuck from yours truly. Thanks again to my dearest @dramadreamer14​ for the beta, as always. Thank you all for reading this fic, and for all the love you’ve given me. It really means a lot. I DON’T DO TAGLISTS! Divider by @firefly-graphics​ <3

As Bucky walked into Dr. Y/L/N’s office, there were a thousand questions that he wanted to ask her. But not even one of them was, ‘Hey Bambi, would you let me keep my promise now?’ Although asking that exact question certainly would have answered all of the other questions that he had, it was safe to stay that this man was not necessarily the sharpest scalpel in the OR. But then again, neither was she. 

“Dr. Y/L/N, I hope this is not a bad time?” He offered her a rather polite smile once he stepped into her office, watching her hobble towards him. He raised his brow slightly at the sight of her, as it seemed like she was struggling to even stand in front of him. 

She was leaning against her desk, as though she was meaning to hide something from him. “Oh no, not at all.” She returned his smile, darting out a hand towards him. “You’re Dr. Barnes, right? The new guy. Steve’s told me a lot about you.” 

His eyes darted towards her feet for a moment, eyeing the pumps that she was wearing before looking up to meet her eyes. “Oh please, call me James.” He shook her head. “I hope he wasn’t too honest about whatever he’s told you.”

“He told me that you wouldn’t mind bitching about him with me.” She admitted, laughing softly as she remembered her conversation with the Chief that morning. “But he also told me that you were the best there is. Is that an honest truth?” 

“That I wouldn’t mind at all.” He agreed, glad that Steve had plenty of people at this hospital to humble him. “But as for whether or not I’m the best there is, I’m not one to brag. I guess it’s best that I let you be the judge of that.” 

Speaking of which, there was a reason why he was here right now. 

“Well then, why don’t we get right to it?” Y/N suggested, motioning him to take a seat as she limped around her desk and sat down. 

Bucky gave her a nod before he bit down on his bottom lip, taking a seat across from her as he watched her pull up the patient’s file on her computer and turn the screen towards him. “You know, before we get started, I did have a few questions to ask you.” 

Y/N paused for a moment as she was slipping off her shoes under her desk, and leaned forward to meet the man’s bright blue eyes. “Yes, of course.” She could not deny that there was something familiar about him, but she could not pinpoint what it was. Had they met before? 

He leaned forward in his seat to look straight at her. “Dr. Y/L/N, why is it that you have requested a consult with me for a patient who is thirty five years old with transposition of the great arteries, if all of your patients are under the age of two?” 

She raised her brow for a moment, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I wonder…” She responded with a shrug, watching the man look towards the screen to see the patient’s name flashing before him. 

Patient Name: Y/L/N, Y/N

It was her. She was the patient. She was his patient. 

“You’re my patient.” Bucky finally understood the situation that he had just got himself into. It was one thing for him to convince his patient for surgery, but it was a whole other ball game when the patient who was refusing surgery happened to be a surgeon herself and a well-accomplished one at that. It seemed like Bucky’s job was a lot harder than he had thought. 

“Not yet.” She replied. “I only promised Tony that I would meet with you before I made my decisions, so don’t get so ahead of yourself.” 

His lips curled into a smirk at her words. “Well then… since you happened to request a consult from me, here’s my professional opinion. I read through your file while I was on the plane, and I have to admit, I was surprised that I would get to be working with… a walking miracle, really.” He admitted, genuinely geeking out. “I’m sure I don’t have to say… Thirty years ago, Tony performed a groundbreaking surgery. It’s an honour, really.”  

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Dr. Barnes.” 

Seriously, could he stop geeking out for one goddamn moment? This woman was probably looking for a reason to turn him down as they were speaking, and he was only going to make it worse. 

Straightening himself up, Bucky gave her a genuine smile. “Well then, let’s try honesty. I came across Tony’s notes from your last follow up. I couldn’t help but be disappointed by what I saw.” He said, rather confidently, as he wanted to show her that his fascination towards her case did not mean that he was intimidated by her at all. “It says that you’re experiencing aortic valve regurgitation, but you refuse to go for a TAVR?” 

A transcatheter aortic valve replacement, or TAVR, was a minimally invasive surgical procedure that was performed through making an incision in the patient’s leg and inserting a catheter up to the heart. There would be no need to crack open the chest, so there was less likely for there to be any complications. It shouldn’t even take more than an hour to replace the valve. It was the safest thing to do. 

“I’m not having surgery again.” Y/N shook her head. 

“Why not?” He asked, curiously. “Why are you refusing to go for surgery? When Tony switched your arteries thirty years ago, the prognosis was aortic valve regurgitation. This was expected, wasn’t it?” 

“I knew it was possible. Probable,” she corrected herself. “But I’ve gone thirty years without having to have my chest cut open, and I’d really like to keep it that way. I don’t want to have to turn my life upside down again.” She explained with a sigh.  

“Y/N, you do know that we’re not going to cut you open this time.” He reminded her, clearly not appreciating how stubborn she was. “The procedure is minimally invasive, and a lot less risky in comparison to an open heart surgery.”

“That doesn’t make me any less scared.” Y/N mumbled, perhaps hoping that he hadn’t heard her. 

This was possibly the first time she had even shown a sign of her true emotions, but she felt the need to be transparent with this man. Not that she had accepted him as her doctor or anything, but there was something about him that made her want to trust him. Perhaps Steve’s reassurance that he would trust Dr. Barnes with his life may have given her a little push, but she wasn’t sold just yet. 

Truth be told, she was surprised that the man had known her for five minutes and hadn’t even found her intimidating. It was no secret that she was stubborn, but it seemed that he was just as stubborn as she was. 

She had put on a tough exterior and ruled the Department of Neonatal Surgery with an iron fist, when in reality she was terrified. No matter how much she had grown, no matter how much she had accomplished, no matter how stubborn she was, deep down there was a five year old girl named Bambi who wanted nothing more than to run around the playground with her best friend Buck. But she knew that she couldn’t do that anymore. Or at least that was what she assumed. 

“If you’re scared, then just be scarier than whatever is scaring you.” 

To say that the words that escaped his lips caused Y/N’s heart to skip a beat would be quite the understatement. “What?” She looked over at the man with wide eyes, blinking in surprise upon hearing those exact words, the same words that a certain five year old boy in Shelbyville, Indiana, had told her all those years ago. 

Not that she remembered much about him except that his name was Buck, and their mutual love for Bambi. Truth be told, she hadn’t even seen him since her parents had told her that they were moving to Boston. When her mother had moved back to Shelbyville, Y/N had tried to search for him. But she had no luck. How could she find someone whom she didn’t even know? She couldn’t even be sure if Buck was his actual name, to be honest. And her mom had no memory of him. 

Oftentimes, she wondered where he was or what he was doing. Where had life taken him in these thirty years since the last time they saw each other? Did he remember her like she did him? Or was she someone who could have been forgotten? Was he still out there somewhere? Or was he just an imaginary friend?

And worst of all, did he actually promise her that he would fix her heart, or was just all her imagination too? 

“You sound like a kid, James.” Y/N was quick to shrug him off, knowing that letting her emotions dictate her decisions regarding surgery would not do her any good. She had to be practical, and she could not deny that. “Fine… I guess I’ll let you be my doctor. I mean, what choice do I have? They say that you’re the best there is, and I do want the best.” 

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Dr. Y/L/N.” 

Rolling her eyes at his response, she shook her head. “You’re an arrogant one, aren’t you?” 

“Why do you think Steve hired me to replace Tony?” He asked, grinning widely. 

“Good point.” She admitted, sighing. She just had to accept that he was Tony’s replacement in every fucking way. “But… as I was saying, I’ll let you be my doctor. But I won’t consent to surgery… not- not until I’m scarier than my own fears of going for surgery.” 

A smile on his lips as she said that, Bucky gave her a nod. “That’s understandable.” He agreed, feeling slightly accomplished despite the fact that she still won’t go for surgery. “But I’ll have you know that I can be quite persuasive.” 

“Oh is that so?” 

Before Bucky could respond to that, there was a knock on the door.

Now usually, if she were in the middle of a consult, Y/N wouldn’t let anyone just walk into her office. But she recognized that knock, and knew that it was probably her best friend coming back to check in on her, given that he had ordered her to get some rest. “Come in, Piet!” Y/N called out before the door flung open and Pietro Maximoff waltzed in. 

He had probably been expecting to see Y/N still napping on the couch, but to his surprise, she was wide awake. “Oh-” He paused upon seeing Bucky, his eyes darting towards his best friend, and his lips curling into a smirk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company...” 

“I told you I had a consult this afternoon, didn’t I?” Y/N grinned at him. “Dr. Maximoff, have you had a chance to meet Dr. Barnes?”

“Dr. Barnes, as in… Wanda’s new boss?” He chuckled softly as he walked up to Bucky and offered him his hand to shake. “No, I haven’t  had the pleasure.”

“You’re Wanda’s twin.” Bucky noted, as he rose from his seat and shook his hand. “She’s told me a lot about you.”

“Has she really?” He asked, curiously. He was certain that his sister had only met the man that morning. 

Bucky nodded. “She mentioned that you work in pediatric cardiology. I hope that means I’ll get to see you around in my department.” 

“I’m sure you will… when I’m not babysitting this grown child, of course.” He motioned towards Y/N, earning a look of utter disapproval from the woman.

“Is that what you do around here?” 

“When I’m in the Blake Building, mostly. But most of my research happens at the Heart Center.” He informed the man, certainly eager to show what he was working on to someone so well-regarded. “You should stop by my lab sometime. I would love to show you what I’ve been working on.” 

“Of course, you just let me know when and I’ll clear my schedule.” Bucky was always interested in learning about what his colleagues were working on, and that was certainly not going to change even though he had just started working at Mass Gen. 

“I’m looking forward to it.” Pietro agreed before turning back to Y/N. “I just wanted to let you know that Dr. Romanoff has agreed to handle your patients for the rest of the day. I also asked her to find someone who will cover your shift tonight, so that you can go home and get some rest before the party.”

“I’m sorry, what?” She shook her head at his words. “Pietro, I only agreed to let Nat take my patients for the day. I’m still on call tonight.” 

“And miss Dr. Stark’s party?” He asked, genuinely confused by how his best friend’s brain even worked. She tells him that she owes Tony Stark her life, but still had the audacity to say that she was working a call shift during the man’s retirement party. “He is expecting you…” 

“He would understand if I’m not there.” She sighed. “Besides, what am I even going to do there?”

“You do remember that he asked you to make a speech, right?” Pietro asked as he finally planted himself on the seat next to Bucky. 

“No, I haven’t forgotten about the speech. I just think that he would have asked about a hundred people to make a speech about him. Who would even care enough to listen to my story?” She asked him. She really believed that her story was not worth telling. 

“I would.” Bucky interjected. “I think I’ve made it clear since the moment I walked into your office; I’ve always been interested in Tony’s clinical trials for the Stark method. You’re a living example of the difference he made. I think you should own up to that.” 

Y/N looked over at Bucky for a moment and then back at Pietro. “Piet, you know how extravagant his parties are. I don’t even have a dress.” 

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Pietro chirped up. “I’m sure Wanda has something she’d let you borrow.” 

“If it makes any difference, I’ll be there.” 

She rolled her eyes at the man as she turned back to him. “Then why don’t you make the speech?” 

Bucky snickered before he shook his head. “I think I have more pressing matters to attend to. There’s a really difficult patient who’s giving me a run for my money, and they require my full attention.” 

Pietro could not help but wish that he had some popcorn in his hands right now, as it seemed that he had a front row seat to the best show in town. He knew that Y/N was a stubborn one; she had been since they had first met in medical school. He had never seen someone who had barely known her bring out the side of her that she rarely ever showed, though he must admit, he hadn’t seen someone who handled her like this either. 

Unfortunately, the show was over before it even got to the good part. With Pietro being paged, he found himself getting up to leave. “I guess I should get going. I’ll see you at the party. I’ll tell Wanda to meet you at your place at 5?” 

Knowing that there was no getting out of it now, Y/N gave in. “Fine, I’ll see you at the party.” 

A smile on his lips upon hearing her response, Pietro turned over to Bucky to bid him farewell and left Y/N’s office. 

“I told you I was persuasive.” Bucky perked up. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“Are you telling me that you didn’t change your mind because I was going to be there?” He asked, cheekily. 

“Convincing me to go to a party that I’m expected to be at is a lot easier than changing my mind on having surgery.” She reminded him. 

This caused Bucky to chuckle softly and shake his head, leaning forward in his seat so that he could meet her gaze. “I can tell that you’re strong-willed, Y/N. I really don’t think that you’re someone who would give up that easily. And I’m not talking about consenting to surgery when I say that.” His expression turned serious. “I’m talking about your life. Are you willing to give that up because you don’t want to have one more surgery?”

His words hit Y/N like a freight train, and she began to realize that he was right. She was stubborn, but that did not mean that she was being rational. Now might be the right time to accept the harsh reality that she was indeed unwell. This was not something like the common cold or a headache that would pass. 

“Fine, but it’s just one surgery.” 

“Just one.” He nodded. “You can trust me, Y/N.” 

As her eyes teared up, Y/N reached over to grab a tissue. “You better be the best goddamn surgeon in the wide world.” 

And he really was. 

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 11:  A Turkey Called Marv

Summary: Nat, Clint, Evans, Lawson and the rest of her SHIELD team throw Katie a leaving party once news of her resignation spreads across the Triskellion before Katie and Steve head to New York to spend their first Thanksgiving as a couple with Tony, Pepper and Bruce.

Paring: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: None for this chap, bar a bit of bad language and teeth rotting fluff

A/N: Accompanying One Shot- The Life Of Marv. 

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

Chapter 10

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

November 2013

News of Katie’s spectacular resignation spread like wildfire through the Triskellion. Evans, Lawson, Natasha and Clint had all been pretty upset but had understood when she had explained why she was doing it, even if Natasha didn’t necessarily agree. They had no intention of letting her go quietly, however, and the team took it upon themselves to organise a small Leaving do at Lori’s which was in full swing. Background music was playing, food had arrived and the drinks were flowing. Steve was talking to Lawson, Rumlow and Evans by the bar, leaning against it, an easy smile on his face as Katie stood with Clint and Natasha a bit further down the bar as Clint was talking to them about his latest home improvement plan.  

“So I thought about putting in a pool.” Clint mused, “Now the kids are bigger I thought it might be nice to have one. Maybe even a pool house round it for bad weather.”

“How ambitious.” Nat quirked an eyebrow.

Clint grinned. “That’s my middle name.”

“Really?” Katie asked. “I always thought it was Robert.”

“What?” Clint looked at her as Nat snorted out a laugh.  "Francis.  Why would you think its Robert?“

Katie shrugged "You look like a Bob.”

“Wait… so it’s not Ambitious?” Nat asked, winking at Katie. “How boring.”

Katie nodded, draining her glass.  "Bob would have been better.”

"Right,” Clint started, pulling himself taller. “I hate both of you.”

The girls laughed and Nat turned to Katie. “So what’s in the pipeline for you now Nova?” “I have no idea.” Katie shrugged and she didn’t. “I guess I’ll just get more involved in the family business.”

“You gonna move to New York?” Clint asked. She shook her head. “Probably spend a bit more time there but, I’m not moving back.”

“Nah, she can’t leave lover boy.” Natasha looked at Clint and Katie rolled her eyes. Truth is Nat had hit the nail on the head. No way was she leaving Steve in DC to move back to the tower. Although they had only been together seven months she had spent over a year of her life being ‘with him’ one way or another and the thought of him not being there terrified her.

“You know, to be fair Nat, they’ve been going out a while now. Things are probably starting to cool off.” Clint teased “Oh trust me, there’s no problems in that department.” Katie sniggered, looking over to where Steve was stood.

“And would you look at that. I’m out of alcohol…” Nat said, suddenly “And so is Stark.”

“There’s a bar over there,” Clint pointed

“Cheers…”Natasha took Katie’s glass and handed it to him along with her own. Clint shook his head taking the glasses with a sigh.

“So… now he’s gone…” Nat glanced over at Steve then back to Katie “Gimme details…”

“Details on what?”

“Throw me a bone here Stark. I’m working on a dry spell.”

“Why are you so obsessed with my sex life?” Katie groaned. “You’re constantly trying to get me to talk about it.”

“Hey, look, up until a few months ago I was convinced he was a virgin.”

“Well then you’re a dumbass.” Katie smirked “Like I said, he’s Captain America, had girls throwing themselves at him back in the day.” “So he was until the serum?”

“I never said that.” Katie flushed.

“You’re such a shit liar.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“Ok, answer me one question and then I’ll drop it.” Nat pressed.

“What?” Katie snapped with an air of playful frustration. If she was honest, it was quite nice to have a girlfriend to chat to about these kind of secrets.

“Did the serum enhance…everything?” Nat wiggled her eyebrows.

Katie glanced over at Steve and smirked before she looked back at her. Fuck it.

“Well if it didn’t, I’ve no idea how he managed to stay upright before.” she smirked "I’m a lucky woman”

The red head threw back her head in a dirty laugh, a laugh that Katie had never heard from her before and it made her snigger at the sight of the normally composed assassin letting loose.

“What I miss?” Clint asked as he reappeared, handing them their drinks.

“I’ll explain when you’re older…” Nat said, patting his chest fondly.

*****

The next two weeks flashed by and before they knew it, it was the morning before thanksgiving and they were at the Tower in New York. Last year Katie and Steve had spent Thanksgiving as friends. This year they were spending it as lovers, and Katie was also excited to be spending it with Tony, although she would never admit that out loud.

Steve was also looking forward to it as well. Tony had mellowed to him somewhat over the past few months, especially when he had found out Steve was supporting Katie’s decision to quit SHIELD and not trying to stop her as he had original thought the Captain would. He was also looking forward to Katie’s damned fine cooking as well. Despite the fact that Tony had offered to cater in as Pepper was away until the very last minute, his girl had insisted on cooking it herself, especially now she had plenty of time on her hands.  

As such, Steve and Tony had left her in the kitchen area of the main living quarters at midday to head down to the lab to discuss some further upgrades to the Tower. When they left Katie had been surrounded by bags of flour and ingredients, and when Steve returned he found her at just gone 5:30 surrounded by 3 pies (one apple, one pumpkin and one blackberry) pans of vegetables prepped ready for the and a turkey in the oven ready for JARVIS to turn on in the morning. She was stood at the sink, gently humming, the kitchen now clean and the smell of her baking making his mouth water.

“What are you doing Soldier?” Katie asked, jumping a little as Steve’s arms came around her sides, reaching for the sink, effectively trapping her between the counter and his body.

He laid his chin on her shoulder. “The dishes,”

“I’m only leaving the pie dish to soak.” She informed him, turning her head to give him a quick kiss. “The rest are going in the Dishwasher.”

“Oh because God forbid her majesty would actually wash a dish.” He teased and she rolled her eyes.

“You don’t wash them much either. How many brushes did you break last week?”

“The plastic is bad quality.” Steve pouted.

“Nothing to do with your ridiculously large hands being too rough.” “You weren’t complaining last night.” He grinned, lips warm against her neck as he gently nipped under her ear. Katie squirmed a little and then swatted him in the face with the dishtowel, and he laughed out loud.

“Seriously though Doll face, are you nearly done? You’ve been in here all afternoon. You do know we’re not eating till 3 tomorrow, right?” His hands squeezed her hips and she tossed the dishcloth down and turned to face him, her hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders.

“Yeah but the more I do now, the less I have to do tomorrow, and let’s face it, it’s not like I have anything else to do, on account of being an unemployed bum.” She shrugged making Steve laugh again.  “Plus, I just want everything to be, you know…right.” she shrugged, and she did.

“It’s a dinner.”

“It’s Thanksgiving” She corrected him.

“Yeah, and last years was pretty cool, remember?”

“Yeah but…” she trailed off, biting her lip. Steve knew that look well enough now to know there was more to this.

“What?” He probed gently.

“Nothing, just, well I never had a boyfriend over for Thanksgiving before. Or Christmas come to think of it.”

Steve smiled “I like being your first…” Katie grinned. The whole ‘I like being your first’ thing had started off by her saying it to Steve but they’d fast come to realise that they actually both had a world of inexperience between them when it came to relationships, and it was nice that they could be each other’s firsts in a lot of ways.  “Honey, tomorrow is gonna be great.” He assured, tipping her face up to look at his “Don’t sweat it.”

“Did you seriously just say don’t sweat it?” she sniggered.

Steve groaned “I told you I spent the afternoon with your brother…”

She giggled and leaned up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“Getting kinda tired of catching you two making out in a kitchen!” Tony chose that time to waltz in and open the fridge door, pointing to them as he did so. “You got your own floor, piss off and go use it.” ******

Katie woke the next morning to find Steve’s side of the bed empty and cold. It wasn’t unusual for him to be up earlier than her, she knew he would either be out running, in the gym or making coffee. She climbed out of bed and walked to the blinds of the bedroom, instructing JARVIS to open them, the AI being one of the many perks about being 'home’. The New York skyline stretched below her and as she glanced down she saw the people gathered on the sidewalks, attention turned to the streets, obviously waiting for the Thanksgiving Parade. She had asked Steve if he wanted to go and watch it in person but he had said he would prefer to stay in and watch from the tower as he didn’t fancy getting mobbed in the street. Being recognised by one person every so often was fine but in those crowds if one person spotted him then it would spread like wildfire. Besides, as he had pointed out, her floor had an awesome view so they could watch out of the window with a drink. Katie frowned as suddenly a large brown turkey shaped balloon floated in front of her eyes. The parade wasn’t supposed to start until nine and that meant by the time it made its way to the Avengers tower it would be… she turned and glanced at the click and gave a yelp. She had slept in until Ten. 

Steve heard her before he saw her, not that he needed super hearing to hear the loud yell of "how fucking late?” coming from the bedroom. Grinning to himself he turned back to the griddle on the island of the kitchen, flipping a pancake with one hand and drinking a coffee with the other. “Why didn’t you wake me?” Katie grumbled to him as she leaned in the kitchen doorway, taking him in for a moment. He was freshly showered, dressed in a loose grey t-shirt and sweats, hair still a bit damp and spiked up in a way that made her smile. “Because you were up early yesterday and I thought I’d make you breakfast for a change.” He shrugged as she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into the back of his shoulder. The smell of his shower gel mixed with the smell of the pancake mix, made her nuzzle her nose into him to inhale deeply. “You smell good.” She eventually spoke again. “Good to know.” A grin tugged at the corners of his lips at the fact she was still clinging to him. “I just saw a giant inflatable Turkey.” Her hands dropped and slid under his T-shirt, gently rubbing at his stomach. “What?” Steve paused. “The parade”

Steve smiled. “You know when I was a kid, the parade was the best part of Thanksgiving.” “Yeah?” she mumbled, her cheek still pressed to his shoulder.

“Yeah. Me and Bucky used to come into Manhattan with his family and my ma if she wasn’t working and stuff ourselves on popcorn and warm mixed nuts” He smiled to himself at the memory. They always picked out their favourite balloons, ate until they thought they would burst, and made Rebecca, Bucky’s younger sister laugh till she cried by pretending they were in the marching bands. But once the war started, the parade had ended. He had never realized that they started it up again until Tony and Katie had mentioned it last night as they had sat eating takeout. Part of him had wanted to go to the street to watch it but after seeing that morning how crowded it had been on his run he was happy to watch it from the comfort of Katie’s floor. He turned to face her for first time that day, her arms still round his waist. Her hair was pulled up into a pony tail, face fresh, eyes bright and she was, as ever, in one of his shirts and not a lot else. He leaned forward to give her a quick kiss and when he moved away, she quickly closed the space to give him another, letting her lips linger on his for a second. “I’ll burn the pancakes.” He murmured and she grinned, pulling away. “I’ll make fresh coffee.” She pat his chest and turned to the machine. “Hey JAR…Hit me with some Christmas tunes, buddy” “The usual Miss Stark?” “As long as it has the Pogues on…” “Wouldn’t dream of not doing” the AI replied and then the apartment was flooded with the sounds of ‘Fairy Tale of New York.’ “It’s November.” Steve turned to look at her, but she simply grinned to herself and turned around, singing to him. He couldn’t help but laugh, he knew from last year that Christmas for her started at Thanksgiving and ended on New Year’s Day. Plus the fact that the previous year she had spent Christmas day fighting a bunch of exploding super soldiers meant that she was going to enjoy this year as much as possible. He shook his head, a low chuckle escaping before he turned back to his pancakes. They dragged the cushions off the couch and ate breakfast sat by the huge floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse, Katie sat between Steve’s legs as they both watched the parade. Suddenly, a large green balloon floated by the window and Katie gave a loud squeal when she saw what it was. A Hulk float. An amused smile spread across her lips as she watched the balloon bob in front of the window, twisting to the sides in the air as it wrestled with the wind. “Oh my God!” Katie giggled again, gently tapping Steve’s right calf but he had already spotted it. A massive shield was coming out, followed by Iron Man’s mask, Thor’s hammer, a bow and arrow, Natasha’s Red Widow symbol and her own Nova star. She turned to look at him, a little smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth and when he met her eyes the smile broke out across his features. Laughing in disbelief, he shook his head, turning his attention back look at the shield float bounce down the street. “That’s pretty cool.” He allowed himself a slightly smug and amazed sigh, and it was. If anyone had told him all those years ago that one day he would feature in the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade he would have told them that they were mad. Yet there it was. He found himself smiling as he thought about how his ma and Bucky would have reacted. When they had finished eating, Katie leaned back into him a little more, slouching so that her knees were bent and her feet rested on the bottom of the window. His arms reached round her neck, and he kissed the back of her head as they continued to watch the floats, the gentle sound of Bing Crosby “White Christmas” now playing through the room, the two of them simply enjoying the closeness of one another. ***** Eventually it was time to head downstairs and join Tony, Bruce and Pepper for their dinner. Katie and Pepper left the men to it and finished off the prep before calling them all to the table. As was tradition, as ‘head of the house’ Tony carved the turkey with his usual, trademark drama and they took it in turns to give a few things they were thankful for. Tony was thankful for his friends, family and a decent brand of scotch he had in the cupboard for later, Pepper was thankful for being so fortunate and being surrounded by people she loved, Bruce was thankful for being welcomed into their family home, not just for today but since he had taken up residency just after the Chitauri Battle, and Katie was thankful for being in the presence of people she cared for, and for the last year being so much better than the previous twelve months. She shot a wink at Steve as she said that and he beamed before he realised they were waiting for him.

 "Okay, well…” He cleared his throat. “I guess I’m thankful for being given a second chance, being welcomed by you all…and for, err, you.” He grinned at Katie who gave him a playful roll of the eyes but the flush on her cheeks told him she had understood.

“Awww.” Pepper smiled, as Tony made a gagging noise which resulted in Katie throwing a carrot at him. He pointed at her, frowning.

“No food fights on my floor, Kiddo.” He said sternly and she simply raised an eyebrow at him, taking a sip of her wine.

The food was good, not that anyone expected anything else. Both Tony and Banner managed two servings whilst Steve made it through three. And then there was the pie. Steve scoffed down a piece of each, whilst everyone else could only face one, but no one cared. And he found himself secretly pleased that there was enough left for him to scoff later on.

“I’m so glad I wore leggings.” Pepper sighted, leaning back and massaging her stomach.  

“Tell me about it.” Katie moaned. “I’m so glad this denims have an elasticated waist.” She pulled at the middle of her long maroon peplum style top. “Think I’m having a food baby.”

“Yeah, I gotta hand it to you Kiddo…” Tony leaned back in his chair, undoing the top button of his pants and massaging his stomach “That was absolutely awesome.“

Steve’s hand dropped to his girl’s leg under the table and he gave her knee a little squeeze as she reached for her wine glass, before he moving his arm to drop it round the back of her chair. "I certainly prefer the Turkey dead and cooked anyway” Tony added and Katie groaned. “Are you ever gonna let me live that down?” She looked at him. “No” he shook his head. “What’s this?” Steve asked, setting his glass down. “Did she not tell you about the time she brought home a live Turkey one year? Katie sighed as Steve sat up, turning to her, smirking "No…” “I was seventeen and going through a meat is murder phase.” She waved away the comment with her hands. “I was in the way home and saw him. He was the only one left in the farmyard so I liberated him” “By liberated she means stole.” Tony quipped, standing up to retrieve two more bottled of Rijoca from the wet bar as laughs rang round the table. “No one came looking for him.” She shrugged. “Marv lived a happy life for five years in our back garden” “Marv?” Bruce looked at her, a smile creeping across his face. “After the character from Home Alone.” She replied simply

“You had a turkey called Marv?” The scientist deadpanned and she nodded.

“He was a great pet. Used to chase Tony around” “The bird was a fucking menace.” Tony frowned, topping everyone’s glass up. Settling back into his chair, Katie noticed Pepper giving him a look and he started suddenly as if he was remembering something. He leaned forward and looked at Katie. "So I know we don’t do Thanksgiving gifts kiddo but I was thinking yesterday about something you said to me once, about having a vision for a publishing company.”

Katie stole a look at Steve who simply shrugged. It was true, when she had first graduated she had thought about setting up a publishing company, but one that dealt with unknown writers. Her favourite books in the world were the Harry Potter series and during her degree she had been lucky enough to attend a small seminar held by JK Rowling, who had openly discussed her life before becoming a famous author. She had been a single mother, struggling to make ends meet, and even after she had written the books it took her years to get a deal, being rejected by four different publishers before Bloomsbury (a small, independent group) took a chance on her and it paid off for both of them. Katie loved the rags to riches story and since then had always harboured a desire to do the same thing for other authors but it had never really been much more than a pipe dream.

“It was an idea I once had.” She shrugged, looking at Tony. “Then things went a bit crazy.” “Well… how about we make it a bit more than an idea?” Pepper said. “What?” Katie frowned, looking at Pepper, then he brother who nodded. “I want you to put a proper proposal together, business plan, mood and story board that type of thing.” He said, waving his hand in that Tony-esque manner “Then we’re gonna look at what we need to set it up and take it to the board. Run it as a Ltd company under the Parent company of Stark Industries, but you’ll be the Managing Director.” “I…, I can’t run a business!” She stammered. “Didn’t you run the UK branch of SI for a while?” Bruce looked at her, smiling. “That was different.” She pressed. “Why?” Steve asked. “Shut up Steven.” She shot without even looking at him.

There were a few chuckles round the table before Tony continued. “Look, you don’t need to work.” He shrugged. “You have enough capitol behind you plus the revenue from the business as it to live your life out as an IT girl,  but we both know you’ll end up killing someone if you get bored, and that’s likely to be Cap seeing as you see him most so this is for him as much as you.” “Thanks Tony.” Steve tipped his glass to the Inventor who winked. Katie pondered. It really had been a dream of hers since leaving Uni, putting her degree and passion into her work and she would be lying if she said the thought didn’t excite her but it was a hell of a big commitment, and what if it all failed?

“I’ll help you.” Pepper smiled at Katie who was biting her lip. "I’ll proof read the proposal and I’ll be there every step of the way whilst you set up.” She leaned back in her chair. "The week before Christmas there’s another board meeting. I suggest we use that to pitch the idea.” 

“I think this could be a great opportunity for you and Stark Industries.” Tony looked at Katie. “And you’ll get full autonomy over it all, I promise.” This was amazing. She looked at Steve who nodded encouragingly. “What is it you keep saying to me? You’ll never know until you try?” he smiled at her. She took a deep breath and looked around the table before throwing caution to the wind and letting out a huge grin. “Ok. Fuck it. Let’s do it.” **** After another half an hour or so of chatter, and a bottle of champagne to celebrate Katie’s agreement to the business idea, everyone chipped in to clear the table before retiring to the plush living area of Tony and Pepper’s floor for more drinks and chat. Then the alcohol really did began to flow, Steve and Tony moving onto the scotch,  the soldier watching as everyone around him descended into that well recognised drunken haze. And then out came ‘Drawing Without Dignity’, a game Steve had never played before which was really rather vulgar, but he couldn’t help but enjoy it. The game fast slid into chaos which was to be expected with an extremely competitive Super Soldier who had a natural advantage as he could actually draw, an equally competitive billionaire and a normally mild mannered scientist who also was quite cutthroat when it came to winning it turned out.

Pepper and Katie spent most of the time sniggering at the bickering men, and at the point when they were laughing that much when it was their go, the three boys got so frustrated they banned them from playing. For that, the next time Steve asked Katie what one of the more risqué sayings meant (he had cringed at a fair few of them over the course of the evening) she lied to sabotage him earning her a full on Captain glare. “That was a pretty shitty thing to do.” He grumbled at her as Tony and Bruce were both howling with laughter. “Not my fault Captain Badass doesn’t know what Rimming is!” Katie shot back, wiping away her tears. Steve had to bite back his own laugh at the ridiculous nickname, instead he fixed her with another glare which she returned with a simple shrug of her shoulders. The game ended, and Steve and Tony called it a draw, which was probably the easiest thing to do since Pepper had stopped taking count and tallying towards the end. It was now well after ten pm and Steve looked around the room as Tony stood up, a little unsteady on his feet, teetering back over to the bar.

“I think maybe we’ve had enough.” Pepper hiccupped slightly looked at Tony who had been reaching for another bottle of liquor, wheeled round slightly too fast causing him to stumble into the bar.

Katie cackled as Tony looked at Pepper “Shut up Mom.” he grabbed another bottle of scotch in one hand and the open bottle of Krug the girls were drinking in the other. He walked carefully over towards the sofa, as he dropped down into it heavily, handing the champagne to Katie who was on the floor in between Steve’s legs, her back resting against the sofa. She took it and poured herself and Pepper a glass, quite pleased that she didn’t spill any.

“You know he…he can’t get drunk!”  Tony handed Bruce a now full glass, pointing to Steve.

“That’s sad.” Bruce surmised, taking a sip of his drink before Tony sat bolt upright, and pointed at the scientist.

“Hey, I wonder if Hulk can get drunk?”

“That’s an…that’s an…ex…exper-expediment I don’t think we should do.” Bruce shook his head, hiccups punctuating his speech.

“Absolutely not.” Steve shook his head as Katie cackled.

“But it would be for science purposes.” Tony pressed

Bruce wrinkled his nose and shook his head “No Code Green.” “Spoil sport.” Tony sniffed

They stayed for another hour or so, until Pepper fell asleep. Katie’s cheeks were flushed pink and when she asked for a bottle of water Steve knew it was time to go. After asking Tony if he needed help clearing anything up, which he declined stating housekeeping would be in at some point tomorrow to deal with it, Steve stood up, surprised to find he actually felt a little bit of a head-rush. Ok, so maybe the three bottles of scotch they’d managed to go through had had a little effect after all, but he felt the fizziness ebbing away as he pulled Katie to her feet and she grinned up at him.

“Wanna carry me Soldier?” she asked.

He arched an eyebrow and in one swoop had her over his shoulder, causing her to shriek with laughter as she clutched at his navy blue cardigan jacket.

“Night!” She waved from her upside down position. Tony and Bruce waved distractedly from where they were now trying to mix some form of cocktail at the bar.

“You can put me down now.” Katie patted Steve on his back as they boarded the elevator. “Steve…”

He smirked to himself, ignoring her giggles and protests, swatting lightly at her ass, and didn’t put her down until they reached  the bedroom where he tossed her onto the bed and set about showing her exactly how thankful for her he was

******* If you want to read more about Marv the Turkey, check out the One shot: The Life Of Marv. As with all SSB One Shots, they don’t need to be read to understand the main story...consider them tasty little side dishes.

********

Chapter 12 Part 1

**Original Posting**

[iloveyou3thousand]

Ever

Pairing: Pepperony Rating: Teen & Up Word count: 2785 A/N: This was written for the Pepperony Valentine's Exchange for @kassyscarlett​. I hope you like it!!

Tags: Jealousy, misunderstandings, light angst with a happy ending, established relationship, mid-canon

Read it on AO3 here!

__________________________________________________________

“Oh—” Pepper stops dead in her tracks, and almost takes a step back, “Sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”

Which is odd, considering that she is used to knowing the ins and outs of Tony’s schedule by heart. Rarely does any set appointment pass by her unnoticed. She may not be Tony’s personal assistant slash glorified secretary anymore, but that doesn’t mean she’s managed to get out of her ways yet. Old habits die hard, as they say.

The lady in the chair opposite Tony’s turns, and while she gives Pepper in the doorway a polite smile, Pepper can tell that they were laughing about something just moments before by the way her eyes are still wrinkled at the corners and the way Tony’s leaning back in his own chair, so nonchalant, with a lopsided grin on his face.

A grin that, in any other circumstances, could make Pepper feel weak in the knees.

But she stands firm, looking from the vaguely familiar woman to Tony and back again.

“It’s fine, Ms. Potts, join the party,” Tony says with an air of relaxation.

I’d rather not, she thinks, but doesn’t say. She stays polite, as much as it infuriates her to have to do so when the cogs in her mind are already working overtime connecting dots that she’s sure aren’t there, or shouldn’t be there.

“You remember Ms. Hansen, right?” Tony continues.

“I do,” Pepper says, “How could I forget?” Frankly, she’s a little surprised that Tony remembers. Or maybe he doesn’t, and he’s doing a great job at bluffing his way through this little get-together – or whatever it is.

She briefly shakes hands with Maya when she extends hers over her shoulder to not have to twist around in her seat too much. Either she doesn’t want Tony looking right up her skirt, or she’s found a position in which she knows Tony can most certainly look directly at her panties and she doesn’t want to risk losing that. Pepper doesn’t know which one it is, and she’s not sure she even wants to know.

Maya’s smile is friendly and her handshake is professional but still, something about the situation doesn’t sit right with Pepper, who suddenly feels like she would much rather be anywhere else than with those two in one room.

“Pleasure to meet you again, under somewhat better circumstances,” the other woman says, and Pepper flashes an amiable smile.

“Likewise,” she responds, and backs up again to return to her spot in the doorway. She focuses her attention on Tony again, because that’s who she came in for in the first place after all. It looks like she manages to cut him off right before he is undoubtedly about to say something about what him and Ms. Hansen were just talking about. Pepper, frankly, doesn’t want to hear it. “I have something I want you to look at, but it’s not urgent. I’ll forward it to you so you can tell me what you think later. Okay?”

Tony salutes her solemnly, and gives a nod. “You got it, Pep.”

“Good. And don’t forget you’re having lunch with Osborn.”

Tony mutters a grumbled ‘how could I forget’ under his breath before Pepper turns to take her leave. She closes the door behind her and puts a good amount of distance between her and it in just a few quick strides. But even so, she can hear the unmistakeable sounds of laughter coming from inside the office. She stops, listens to the muted cadence of Ms. Hansen’s voice, honeyed sweet without a doubt. She winces, and makes herself scarce as quickly as she can. It won’t do her any good to stand outside of Tony’s office and listen in to what she assumes might very well be going on inside.

She doesn’t want to know. Ignorance is bliss, right?

Except even though she doesn’t really know what has been going on inside Tony’s office, she still spends the rest of the day thinking about it. Tony rarely invites women over nowadays, and they rarely show up in the kind of skirts that Maya was wearing. Jesus, she wasn’t even wearing pantyhose or anything. Pepper can’t help but wonder if she was wearing anything underneath her skirt at all…

But Tony has changed over the years. She thought that he was really committed to what they had going for them and how their relationship had grown. She had been tentative in hoping that Tony’s playboy days were over, but Tony had proved himself to be loyal, at least in the first few months.

As the day progresses, Pepper can’t help but think that maybe he’s slowly drifting back to what he used to know because he’s gotten bored of it all.

And what if he has? What if he has gotten bored of Pepper and of their relationship and of what she can and has offered him for the time that they have been together? What is she supposed to do, or say, about that? It’s not like she could help that – if it was even true at all.

That is probably the worst thing though. Even if this is really taking place, if her fears are correct, then there is nothing she can do to change Tony’s mind. She doesn’t have much more to offer than she has already given Tony, and she can’t exactly make something up.

She thought it was enough…

But now she can’t stop thinking about all the things they could possibly be doing behind closed doors, and all the things that Pepper should have been doing, or could have done, or at least suggested. Has she really not tried enough? Has she not shown Tony that things don’t have to stay the way they used to be?

She really thought that Tony had been happy with what they had.

A voice in the back of her mind says that it should reassure her that at least he’s not going for any random floozie at least, he’s sticking to someone he knows this time, but the longer she thinks about it the longer she realizes that that’s actually even worse. At least there are no feelings involved when he sleeps with someone he doesn’t know and won’t remember the next day.

Has he fallen out of love with her?

Was he ever in love with her in the first place?

Pepper can’t concentrate the rest of the day and it shows. Usually she’s all smiles, even with the people she doesn’t like. She knows that politeness gets her furthest, but her face is set with tension for the remainder of that day at the office and she avoids people she doesn’t necessarily have to see at all cost.

Unfortunately, Tony is her ride home.

Or, well, she could call a taxi. But if she gets her own ride back while they usually drive together, it will most certainly arise suspicion, and she knows that Tony won’t be able to let it go until she spills her guts – and she’s not keen on doing so at the moment. She’s sure that if she does, a lot more will come flooding out than she intends to allow, and that’s a recipe for disaster.

So begrudgingly, she walks into Tony’s office toward the end of the day, glad to find that it’s empty bar for Tony this time, at least. She can’t help but comment on it.

“No more surprise guests?”

“Just little old me, Ms. Potts,” Tony hums as he gathers his things before whipping out the doors and heading toward the elevators.

They ride down toward the garage together but Pepper doesn’t have much to say. Usually she would put some effort into trying to explain Tony’s schedule to him so that he’s prepared for what the following day has in store for him in case he forgot (which he is prone to do), but this time she is quiet.

Occasionally, Tony tries to break the silence with a comment here and there, but Pepper’s answers are short and to the point, leaving little room for the conversation to continue. She tries to busy herself with her phone, drafting some emails to send the following morning, but she comes up blank most of the time now with her mind so clearly on something else.

Even as Tony puts the top of his car down as they drive down a long, winding road back to their home, offering the occasional glimpse of the sea and the California coast, she’s quiet. Lost in thought. Normally she might have complained about the wind whipping through her hair and pushing it into her face, might have tried to control it with both hands while watching Tony laugh as she cusses him out, but now she just lets it.

Maybe that’s what is the final straw for Tony.

He slows down, which Pepper doesn’t realize until they’re pulling up alongside the mostly empty road, and Tony goes as far as to turn the engine off and twist in his seat towards her. He means business, that much is clear. Pepper turns her head to the right and looks out over the ocean and the sun dipping lower and lower toward the horizon.

“I feel like I’m being punished for something and I’m not quite sure what it is,” Tony says. Pepper worries her lower lip with her teeth for a moment, but doesn’t answer.

“C’mon, Pep. Can’t even look at me now? Must be something serious.”

There’s a beat of silence before Tony’s warm hand lands gently on her thigh just above her knee and just below where her skirt stops. She resists the urge to pull away because she knows it’s childish. Instead, she turns her head to Tony at last. It’s the least she can do.

“Oh, it’s definitely something that I did,” Tony teases, although a moment later a frown creases between his eyebrows as if he can see something in her expression that worries him.

Pepper takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Might as well be honest and get this over with to avoid stewing for much longer, right?

“Why was Maya in your office?” She can barely stand to look at him, but keeps her eyes level as best as she can.

Tony looks puzzled for a moment.

“Ms. Hansen,” she clarifies. Immediately, Tony’s expression clears up significantly.

“Ah, Ms. Hansen. Honestly, I’m still not entirely sure why. Something about… Right, she was wondering if I could oversee a project she’s doing. As if I’m responsible enough to be able to oversee anything.”

Tony flashes a smile but Pepper doesn’t think it’s entirely funny. He has a habit of playing the self-deprecating joke card when she’s not feeling great, and she doesn’t think that that kind of behavior should be encouraged. She doesn’t want Tony to think about him in that way.

When Tony sees that there is no smile on Pepper’s face but only a slightly disapproving set of her mouth, he drops the joking act and tilts his head toward one shoulder.

“Why does it matter what she was there for?” He asks. Pepper doesn’t have a good answer for that except the truth, and she’s not about to hand that over to Tony on a silver platter. It feels ridiculous. She shouldn’t be so doubtful to the point of distrust, but seeing Tony so at ease with a woman he’s slept with doesn’t sit right with her.

It’s prejudice, she realizes. She doesn’t have that reaction to Tony talking to any other woman, and there aren’t enough ladies like Maya who slept with Tony and yet somehow always kind of…stuck around.

Pepper looks away, shame on her cheeks. She feels awful for the way she feels and can’t argue past the lump in her throat because it’s getting too real. Either Tony is about to tell her that it’s fine and nothing is wrong, or he’s about to tell her that they can no longer work things out, that he’s no longer interested, that once they get home maybe it’s better if they part ways…

“Hey…” Tony murmurs, his voice dropping into something concerned now. He takes his hand off her knee and puts it on her back instead, laying the warm flat of his hand over her spine – something that could have been so soothing if it hadn’t been for the intrusive thoughts in Pepper’s mind that maybe Tony would rather be somewhere else touching someone else like that right now.

As if he can read her mind, Tony leans in and presses a kiss into her hair just above her ear.

“You know you’re the only woman in my life, don’t you?” He says softly, a kind of soft that is usually only reserved for her. She hopes that’s still the case. She really does. “If that’s what you’re worried about, then don’t be. I only have eyes for you, Ms. Potts.”

Pepper doesn’t realize how much she needed to hear that until she sighs out another deep breath, and feels the tension set in her shoulders ease, feels herself lean into Tony a little bit, almost wishing they weren’t divided by the center console in the car.

Again, it’s as if Tony reads her mind, because he’s out of the car and around by her side in moments, opening the car door and offering her his hand to get her out and pull her directly into a firm embrace.

“I know it’s ridiculous,” Pepper says, breaking her own silence for the first time since the last thing she said in the elevator.

Tony combs a hand through her hair at the back of her head, and presses a kiss to her shoulder. She buries herself into his neck even further at that.

“A little bit,” Tony admits, but Pepper can hear the playful tone in his voice, “But if it was really that ridiculous then you wouldn’t be feeling this way. So I guess I just have to prove to you that you’re the only one for me until that feeling subsides once and for all. Are you agreeable, Ms. Potts?” He pulls back, cups her cheek, and makes her look at him.

Sometimes, Tony’s emotional availability is far beyond what he makes it out to be and it still surprises Pepper sometimes. But above all, she’s relieved that he knows just when to be serious and genuine about these things. Right now, it helps her calm, and see the realistic side of things.

Tony would never have stayed with her if he didn’t love her anymore.

He would never have lead her on like that. He respects her far too much.

And of course, that feeling is mutual.

She sighs again, and nods her head, mimicking the tentative smile curling at the corners of Tony’s lips. “I’m sorry,” she says, but Tony shakes his head.

Wordlessly, instead of tucking her back into the passenger seat and driving them the rest of the way home, Tony takes Pepper’s hand and guides her toward the hood of his expensive car, where he urges her to sit down.

In the distance, the sun is just about to dip below the horizon. With all the things that had been going through Pepper’s mind, she barely noticed it before, but now she can see it all up ahead.

The sky is a canvas of blended hues of yellow, orange and pink, stretching far and wide. Tony sits down next to Pepper and puts his arm around her. Pepper doesn’t hesitate to lean into his side.

“It’s almost as if you planned this. The timing is immaculate,” Pepper comments as the sun sinks down further, remembering how Tony had delayed their departure by a little while, saying he still had some work left to ‘finish up on’. Pepper feels Tony smile where his cheek rests atop her head.

“I may or may not have heard through the grapevine that you weren’t feeling too well today,” he admits.

“Tony…”

Pepper loves sunsets. She’s always loved sunsets. It’s the sole reason she sits by the large floor to ceiling windows of their Malibu house every night, looking out over the sea and at all the colors swirling in the sky.

“I would do this any day for you, Pep.” Tony’s voice is soft. “I’ve already missed so many sunsets in my life. I never want to watch another one without you.”

“Ever?” Pepper asks with a curious quirk of her brow, lifting her head a touch to be able to look at Tony.

He smiles, and kisses her gently, pulling her close.

“Ever. Never ever.”

[rainydaydream-gal18]

Bucky Barnes x Reader: Shall We Dance?

(Author’s Note: Hey all, I’m back but this time with a Bucky fic!  I just thought this was an adorable idea, and I even found a soundtrack for it.  You could play some 1940′s instrumental jazz in the background while reading this fic to enhance the experience, or not.  Up to you!

Also, this is sort of an AU that takes place after Civil War, but where the Avengers don’t separate yet.  So yeah I’m jumping on the bandwagon of Avengers still living in the tower with Bucky joining them XD)

   “Are you sure about this?” you asked, poking your head around the corner.  Taking note of what the guests were wearing, you immediately felt out of place.  Despite the party having a 1940’s theme, most of the ladies were wearing rather modern dresses that were long and elegant and touched the floor.  Some did go as far as pinning their hair in updos that were fitting for the time period, but even so, you glanced down at your old-fashioned evening gown and perfectly matched shoes with doubt.  It was a beautiful deep blue dress that went almost to your ankles.  The sleeves were a tad puffy at the shoulders before tightening into long sleeves the rest of the way to your wrists.  The outfit was very lovely, but it was most definitely out-dated compared to what the guests were wearing.

   It was a birthday celebration for Steve Rogers- a surprise one at that.  Stark had volunteered a floor of the Avengers tower for the venue, and Natasha and you had the neat idea of making it an old-fashioned party complete with music from the 1940’s to make things feel more like home.  You and Nat had fun researching the sort of clothes worn back then, but apparently not everyone had taken the theme so literally.

   “You kidding me?” Natasha responded in a low voice, brows furrowing slightly.  “You look great.  Now, let’s get out there and own it.”  A smile crept on your face, and you were glad to have a friend go into the party with, especially someone as confident as Romanoff.  She was dressed in a 1940’s gown too, though hers was a pretty dark green which complemented the red lipstick she wore.  “We were pretty specific about the theme of the party,” she continued.  “Technically, most of these people are the ones out of place, not us.”

   “Good point.”

   “This is for Steve anyway.  I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture.”

   It wasn’t necessarily the guests that concerned you.  Or Steve.  A certain someone would be in attendance, and you strived to be cool as a cucumber.

   “Alright, here goes nothing.”  You stepped out from the hallway and couldn’t help but smile.  The music was jazzy, and the lights made the scene even more charming as couples danced on the floor while others conversed at little tables or the bar.  Natasha walked beside you, eyes scanning the room.  They rested on Bruce, who was talking to Tony with a drink in his hand.

   “You going to say ‘hi’?” you asked, giving her a playful nudge.  She played it off as if she couldn’t care less, but you knew there was something going on between her and the scientist.

   “Maybe later.”

   A waiter approached with a tray, and Natasha gratefully accepted a shrimp cocktail while you decided to take a chance on a pastry.  As you bit into your snack, you looked to your friend.   

   “You look beautiful,” you complimented. 

   She flashed a warm smile, a rare but lovely sight from the secret agent.  “You look beautiful too,” she said.  Then, her eyes seemed to dart to something behind you.  “It looks like someone else thinks so.”

   Your mouth fell open.  “What?”  You snuck a glance over your shoulder in the most subtle way you could before quickly turning away when a pair of dark blue eyes gazed in your direction.  Your heartbeat quickened as Natasha raised a brow.  “It’s Bucky.”

   “Yes, it is,” she nodded, though her probing gaze didn’t leave your face as she took in your expression.  “Something wrong?”

   “No,” you said quickly.  A little too quickly.

   Her eyes traveled to the former Winter Soldier before a hint of a smirk appeared on her lips.  “Oh, so you still have a thing for him?”

   “What?  I never told you that.”

   “Didn’t need to.”  Her smirk grew.  “I sort of read people for a living, and it’s written all over your face whenever he walks in the room.”

   “Well, glad I was being subtle,” you remarked with an eye roll.  “I just get so nervous.  He’s a good friend, and…”

   “And he’s coming over here.”

   “He’s- what?”

   “He’s walking this way,” she mumbled under her breath.

   You followed her eyes to see those eyes fixed on you as he approached.  Though his dark hair was still somewhat long and unkempt, he wore a nice suit and shoes.  His lips pressed together in an awkward smile as he entered the space where you and Natasha stood.

   “Hey,” he greeted with a small wave.

   “Hi,” you said, smiling.  Natasha didn’t speak.  She only observed the interaction as your eyes wandered the room in desperate search for something else to talk about.  “This turned out to be a nice party,” you commented.  “You think Steve is having a good time?”

   “Yeah,” Bucky agreed, looking over to see the Captain having a dance with Sharon.  “It is nice.  I think he’s having fun.  Sure looked happy to see everyone when he walked in.”

   You laughed as you remembered his reaction- your friend and teammate’s look of pleasant surprise and then a big smile as everyone shouted “surprise!”  You even asked that Tony get a picture from the security footage.

   “Definitely loved the look on his face,” you said.  The conversation between the two of you quieted for a minute as both of you looked at your surroundings until Bucky spoke up again.

   “You like the music?” he asked, gesturing with a metal hand to your feet.  You hadn’t even noticed yourself swaying in place to the tune.  The realization caused you to give a sheepish smile and shrug.

   “I think I do.”

   Bucky’s little awkward smile widened, and his eyes held warmth as he asked, “do you wanna’ dance with me?”  Your eyes travelled to that inviting gaze of his, and it was like your heart was doing flips.  You nodded, and he extended his other hand to take yours.  Then, he looked to Natasha.  “Mind if I steal her for a dance or two?”

   Natasha smirked again.  “Not at all.  Have fun, you two.”

   Bucky glanced your way again before leading you toward the dance floor.  You shot a look at Natasha over your shoulder, mouth falling open in shock that this was happening.  She gave a nod of approval.

   Bucky stopped before going too far into the crowded space, turning to put the metal hand at your waist while you put your arm around the back of his neck.  He exhaled sharply in a silent chuckle, glancing down at his feet.  “Sorry,” he said, eyes darting back up to yours.  “It’s been a while.  I haven’t danced with a woman in….well, about seventy years.”

   “Oh,” you said quietly.  An ache grew in your heart at the thought.  He’d spent a lot of time brainwashed and forced to do awful things for Hydra.  Before you could dwell on it much further, you remembered where you were and tried to keep the conversation light-hearted.  “Well I hope I don’t disappoint you.  I haven’t had much experience dancing to this kind of music.”

   “_________,” he said, starting to sway to the music.  You let him lead you in the beginnings of the dance.  “You are far from disappointing me.”  He stepped back to give you a twirl, and you followed through with a smile on your face.  “And since I’m out of practice, we won’t do anything fancy.”

   “Sounds good to me.”

   A warm feeling gathered in your chest, and you were absolutely elated as you and Bucky let the tune carry you both.  The grin never left your expression.  He seemed to be smiling even wider as he got more comfortable.  Hearing this kind of music on the radio used to feel so strange to you.  You’d breeze past it to the next station in search of something more to your taste, something more modern.  But being there in that moment, dancing with Bucky, it felt so real.  So alive.  You could see why people enjoyed it.  From then on, you’d never think of it the same way.

   “You look gorgeous, doll,” Bucky said over the music, drawing your attention from the live band and back to his gaze.  The lights reflected as a splash of glowing color amongst the beautiful blue of his eyes.  “Where’d you find a dress like that?”

   You ducked your head slightly from the compliment.  “Oh, I got it online.  It was Natasha’s idea.  We were hoping everyone would dress up, but turns out it was just us.”

   “Well, I like it.  Love it, actually.”

   “Thank you.”  He gave you another twirl just as the song ended, and both of you pulled away to applaud the band along with the other couples.  Then, the band took a short pause to turn pages and take a breather before playing a slower song.  As the other couples drew closer to dance slowly, you stole a glance at your dance partner, wondering if he’d want to dance this song with you or take a break.  Before you could ask, he offered his hand.  You smiled, uncertainty vanishing, as he gently pulled you forward and put an arm around you.  Your face was inches from his shoulder, and you decided to just go along with it by wrapping your arms around him.  You took your first few steps of the dance carefully, adjusting to the slower tune.  Despite the hair raised on the back of your neck and the way your breath caught in your throat at the sweet moment you had dreamed of many times, it felt so safe there.  So secure.  You didn’t want to leave anytime soon.

   “So I’m impressed,” you said.  “No feet have been stepped on yet.”

   He pulled away ever so slightly to give you a humorous look.  “It’s been some time, but I have danced before, _________.”

   You laughed.  “Actually I was talking more about myself.”

   “Ah.  See, that makes more sense.”

   “Oh, please,” you joked.  “I’m not that bad.”

   He chuckled softly and rested his cheek against yours, like you’d seen in old-timey movies, as he swayed with you.  “No, no that bad indeed.”

   You were stunned into silence again at the contact.  Your steps weren’t a concern anymore because it felt like you were floating across the dancefloor.

   “Is this okay?” he asked.  The question was so quiet considering how close his voice was.  

   It felt wrong to nod and break the contact, so you just uttered a hushed, “yeah.  It’s more than okay actually.”

   How long had you been dancing?  You weren’t sure.  All you knew was eventually the band announced that they’d be taking a break, a well-earned one in your mind.  Everyone at the party applauded, and you and Bucky hesitantly pulled away.

   “Hey, Buck,” a new voice greeted.  “Hey there, _________.”

   “Happy birthday, Steve,” Bucky said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.  “You’re in pretty good shape for being, what, ninety-eight?  What’s your secret?”

   Steve gave a chuckle.  “I already heard that one a few times today.  But thanks, my secret is that I go for a run every day.” 

   “Happy birthday,” you chimed in with a grin, giving him a hug.  “Do you like the party?”

   “Yeah, I really do.  I heard you had something to do with the theme?”

   “Me and Nat both did.”

   That Steve Rogers smile appeared on his face, softening his features even more.  It was the kind of smile that made anyone feel like a million bucks because it was always so genuine.  “Well, thank you.  It was very sweet of you both.”

   “There he is!” Thor called, and the three of you looked over to see him holding up a glass.  “The birthday boy!  Come hither and tell us one of your tales of victory!” 

   Steve hesitated, looking at you and Bucky.  “Ah, guess I’ll be right back, then?”

   “Go see your other guests,” Bucky told him, giving him a nudge.  “We’ll catch up with you later.”  Steve gave one last wave and approached the group, causing them to erupt in cheers.  You and Bucky exchanged looks, laughing.

   “How long do you think they’ll keep him?” Bucky asked.

   “A while, for sure.”  Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Natasha and Bruce conversing casually.  Wanda and Vision walked past, both glancing your way and waving.  They looked so cute together.  With the music gone, all you could hear was quiet chatter and the clinking of glasses and silverware.  It was such a peaceful atmosphere.

   “Want something to eat?”

   You nodded.  “Yeah, I do.”  He stopped a waiter so that the two of you could grab a few appetizers and go find a seat.  You found a few lounge chairs near the window where you could look out at the city lights in the dark.  There was some playful banter, as usual, and some brief talk of superhero work before you settled on a game of truth or dare.  So far, Bucky had dared you to try a new food that you weren’t so sure about, and you had dared him to throw a straw wrapper at Sam just to get his attention.  It was your turn to pick again, and you chose “dare.”

   “I dare you,” Bucky began, narrowing his eyes as he leaned back in the chair in thought.  “I dare you to save me the next dance, and the one after that.”

   Your smile faded at his words while you played with the hem of your dress.  “Hm, okay.”  You paused.  “Truth or dare?”

   “Truth,” he said.

   “Alright, here’s my question: Is there a reason you want all these dances with me?”

   His gaze was fixed on you sincerely as he opened his mouth to reply.  Unfortunately, this happened to be the moment that Steve returned.

   “I’m back,” he announced.  “Sorry about that.”  He halted to observe the way you and Bucky looked at each other so intently.  “Oh, am I interrupting?”

   “Um, no, we were just…”

   “Playing a game.”  Bucky said quickly.  “Truth or dare.”

   Steve nodded.  “Gotcha’.  Hey, was that why you threw straw wrappers at Sam?”

   “It was only one straw wrapper,” Bucky corrected.  “And yes, it was the reason.  If you talk to him again, you should tell him that it was ___________ who put me up to it.  I was just following the rules of the game.”  He feigned innocence with the casual shrug of his shoulders.

   “I bet,” Steve chuckled.

   Just then, you noticed the band heading back to their instruments.  It appeared that their break was over and they were beginning to play again.  Immediately, Bucky looked at you and then his friend.  

   “Speaking of rules of the game,” he said.  “__________ here owes me a dance.  Are you up for it?”

   You smiled, rising from the lounge chair.  “Sure.  It was a dare, after all.”  In reality, you both knew that it was a joke and you didn’t have to comply with the dare if you didn’t want to, but the thing was, you did want to.  You wanted to save all your dances for him.  As he led you to the dance floor again, you didn’t see Natasha walk over to Steve with her arms folded.

   “You think they’re going to get together?” she asked.

   “It’s their business,” Steve pointed out.  “Not our place to get involved”.  Natasha glanced his way with a raised brow, and he sighed in defeat.  “Okay yeah, I think it’s going to happen soon.  Back home, Bucky was never this hesitant when it came to dates.  He’s really taking his time with her. I think it’s because he really cares about her.”

   “That’s sweet, but how do you know he feels that way?”

   “He told me.  We’re best buds, remember?”

   “I thought you and I were best friends,” she deadpanned.  They shared a humorous look as they watched the two of you moving to the rhythm of the jazzy music, big smiles across your faces.  “I just hope it happens soon.”

   “I hear that.”

[thiscrimsonsoul]

"I'm in love with you." (Sorry I know this is like a week late on this meme)

(It’s quite alright! Memes on my blogs don’t have expiration dates. ^_^ Below the cut because I let my inspiration run wild and it got super long, heh.)

Wanda had to turn and look at Steve. She needed to see his expression because... she was almost certain she’d heard him wrong, but... no. Not with the way he was looking at her. “You... you are?” Nervousness filled her. How real was this? It wasn’t that she thought he was lying or playing games with her, but she’d seen a woman in the nightmare she’d invoked in Steve’s mind before she became his ally. She’d gotten the name... Peggy.

She’d gleaned such sorrow and regret surrounding his feelings for her at the time. That and love. The aesthetics of the dream were from a bygone era, and so Wanda assumed that the woman was no longer living, but was he still in love with this Peggy? Was Steve just sad and lonely and maybe not thinking clearly right now, given the stress they had all been under from going on the run after he’d rescued her and others from the Raft? Wanda didn’t think it was her place to ask or assume, but that left her feeling uncertain. Did her nightmare stir up feelings for someone he lost and now he was looking to fill that void with someone else? How ironic would that be... if her own tactic had plunged her into this awkward situation?

That this other woman seemed to live rent free in Steve’s head was something Wanda had reminded herself of often since those days, every time she felt herself developing a crush on him, to remind her that he probably was not and would never be interested in her. It had kept her from saying or doing anything stupid around him during her time in the Avengers training compound. At least for the little over a year she’d been permitted to stay there. before she became a fugitive of the United States.

And then there were the simple facts that he was Captain America and she was an immigrant, not that she was sure she’d ever be able to go back to the U.S. at this point. Would that... be a problem? Not to him, she knew. He wasn’t that kind of person. But he was a symbol for his country, one that until nearly a year ago she had grossly misunderstood. Wanda refused to believe that he wouldn’t be reinstated at some point, even after everything that had happened. The U.S. would be stupid not to, in her opinion. Would his government and his fans have a problem with him having feelings for someone who wasn’t even an American citizen for a full year yet? Wanda had become a citizen with the help of Stark fast-tracking the process for her despite their pointed differences and grudges - him helping her seemed like a distant memory now -  but she hadn’t been one for long. Would his fans or employers take offense to that? She didn’t want to become a problem for Steve. Goodness knows he had enough problems to deal with right now.

Wanda knew she had a crush on Steve, but was it love? She was attracted to him, sure. He was a good-looking guy, and the honorable way about him and his gentleness off the battlefield were definitely things that drew her in. But it was more than that. Steve made her feel safe at a time in her life when everything seemed to be spiraling out of control. Her brother was gone, her home was gone, she’d been in a strange country surrounded by people who used to be her enemies, trying to find her way through the thick, unrelenting heaviness of grief. Even over a year later, the battle of Sokovia and that dark, cold, sickening, and sinking feeling she’d felt when Pietro died were still as potent and near to her in her mind as if they had happened yesterday.

And yet, through it all, Steve had been there to check on her, to push her to take care of herself, to offer advice, and to help train her when she felt up to it. There had been so many long conversations on the training grounds or in her room, late-night tea breaks in the kitchen when she couldn’t sleep, glances stolen during important meetings when she just needed his reassuring gaze to ground her for a moment, and reassuring hands held or placed on her shoulder or back. Steve had also been the one to make sure Pietro’s body was recovered, allowing for a proper burial. That... had meant the world to her, and she never forgot it.

Then... he rescued her from the Raft... To be fair he’d intended that day to rescue far more people than just her, but even so, drugged, restrained, suffering from a debilitating allergy to sedatives, and feeling hopeless, Wanda’s tortured mind had latched onto him the moment he entered her cell. After being catatonic for so long, the memory of being carried by him, of his warmth and encouraging words to her, was etched onto her brain like a brand. Remembering that feeling had gotten her through the very rough days of illness and trauma recovery to follow. She remembered his concern as she lay in bed, sick as a dog, while the group of newly minted fugitives decided where to go, what to do. He’d let her stay with him at her request after the group split up to avoid detection. He’d been so kind and understanding and sweet and- 

Oh gods... this is way more than a crush. The realization hit her as she stared at him, afraid of saying the wrong thing at what could be a pivotal moment. But with all her insecurities, worries, anxieties, and suppositions, Wanda thought the best thing to do was to be honest with him. That’s all he’d ever been with her.

“I... I’m in love with you too,” she admitted, the verbal expression of her feelings making her heart flutter in a nervous but not necessarily bad way. She’d never dated anyone, never had a boyfriend. She’d never even been kissed. Apprehensions emerging from her traumatic background and an overprotective brother had seen to that. The closest she had come was Vision, but... after he sided with Tony and allowed her to be sent to the Raft, Wanda knew she couldn’t be with him. She thought... that maybe she would just be alone. But now... Wanda found herself wanting more out of life. Maybe... it was time to step out of her comfort zone and try to live a little more...? If being imprisoned and losing so many loved ones had taught her anything, it was that life was much too short. “So... what now?” she asked shyly, a smile lingering on her lips as her cheeks began to turn pink.

[exquisitley-obsessed]

I’m (right) here

This is technically a part two: you can read part one HERE

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: Arthur lost sight of y/n on a hunting trip and it turns out the Pinkertons have hold of her and are doing everything they can to beat information about Dutch out of her. Arthur’s only goal is to get her back but he’s beginning to realise that if he does, nothing will be the same.

Word Count: 5568

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Warnings: Torture, murder, bruises, scars, cuts!!

A/N: Currently playing RDR2 so please no spoilers <3 Literally took five minutes for me to fall in love with this damn fool and so felt like I needed to write something angsty for him. 

REQUESTS OPEN <3

MASTERLIST

That had to be a broken rib.

Y/n gasped as she tried to roll away from the steel capped boot that had just gutted her; the chubby, squat old man at the other end of the boot was the more aggressive of her two captures - Steven was his name, or something like that. 

It was his plump, well-rounded face that she had woken up to sometime ago, sneering down at her with this sickening gleeful look. It was understandable, by his terms he had struck gold by capturing y/n l/n, proud member of the Van Der Linde gang.

“You still don’t want to talk?” He husked out, hands on his portly hips. Y/n simply spat in response, a mixture of saliva and blood. Days had passed. Weeks maybe, it was difficult to tell when stuffed in a cage in a windowless room.

They came and they went, her captures. Steven and Tony were their names, or at least, that’s what they called each other. So far all they had revealed was that they were Pinkertons, and desperate for information on Dutch Van Der Linde. The beatings were consistent, another day without information, another beating – more painful than the last.

But y/n already knew that nothing could break her vow of silence. She had been dragged into this cage loyal to Dutch and she sure as hell would find a way out of it still being loyal – they’d have to kill her otherwise. It appeared that would be the direction of things anyway.

They were getting tiresome, annoyed, frustrated. Constantly checking their watches and disappearing for long lengths of time, leaving her aching and alone on the concrete floor watching the free flies mock her as they crawled the walls before flying away. It was easiest when she was asleep, it didn’t hurt so much then, like small shelter in a hurricane.

They’re coming. She had rhythmically repeated the mantra to herself a thousand times by now, a prayer. Dutch and Arthur, those she who she was currently dying to protect – they would come. They had to.

 ***

“We’ll find her Arthur.” Dutch said for what felt like the thousandth time. Arthur was sitting glumly inside his camp, ignoring his company as his eyes bore into his map, spotted with pins and small notes.

“I know.” He huffed back without much thought, his mind somewhere else. It felt like so much time had already been wasted, and Arthur has resorted to spending every waking moment tracking y/n, at least it kept his mind occupied.

Pinkertons weren’t necessarily nasty men, he’d sure as hell met worse, but they were by no means men to be trusted. Honour among thieves didn’t apply to them.

Sighing heavily his eyes drifted from the map above his bed to his collection of photos pinned nearby; him, Hosea and Dutch, his mother, an old newspaper clipping and the most recent edition was the printed photo of y/n that he had taken on a hunting trip.

He put it up there after getting it printed, a few days after her disappearance. Somewhere in his mind he validated the action through it only being a reminder of his task. 

He liked the photo. She looked the same as ever, same braid, same work pants, John’s old shirt – her eyes were crinkled slightly as she smiled at the camera her jaw slack as if she were about to start laughing. Actually, she wasn’t looking at the camera, she was looking behind it – at Arthur.

It was strange to see the way someone looked at you, those moments which you normally don’t get to see at all, and yet he had it captured in time and hanging above his bed. Something about this whole situation had awoken something he thought he had buried a long time ago, but that’s always the way with old feelings, they don’t really go away you just start convincing yourself that they’re not there anymore as you suddenly become busy with someone else. But now he had no distraction, and with all this time, this torturous time without her – he was remembering.

“God’s sake,” He muttered under his breath, collapsing in his chair and flicking through his journal for the hundredth time. It was escapism really, reading old passages and admiring old drawings from a few weeks ago; pretending as if he were back then with nothing to fear.

He hadn’t realised how much he drew her. It seemed obvious now, flicking through the creased papers where loose sketches of y/n seemed to dot every other page. He had never questioned it before, just always thought that he could remember her figure a lot easier than others – the shape she took when she was hunched on her horse, how she always sat in the same crumpled poor-excuse of a chair every morning when he brought her a coffee. When the gang had had a small party, out of everyone it was her he remembered when sitting around the fireplace, lips parted slightly as she half-sang.

Everything was different now, even he couldn’t deny it. But God, he hated it.

What would this mean? When they got her back, if they got her back, what would happen then? Another cycle of burying his feelings, he could see himself already back at Mary’s beck-and-call, desperate for a distraction. Maybe there was a part of himself that didn’t want to see her again, that just wanted to see her safe and then disappear – could he seriously continue to live an elaborate lie he had formulated years ago, when he was only a boy? Who was that fair to?

He cussed again low under his breath. The past few days all he’s wanted to do is escape his mind, calm his rushing thoughts, tame them into something he could tolerate. Hazily, he noticed somewhat raised panicked voices out in the main camp. He could do this; he had done it before, burying feelings. The voices sounded excited. Maybe he was simply destined to live a life of half-loves. Footsteps were now moving toward his tent.

“Arthur!” But he had already picked up his gun and was headed through the folds of his camp. He had survived his feelings for y/n once before, of course he could again.

***

“Your own family left, y/n…” She cringed at how sympathetic Tony’s voice was, as if he were on her side. “They’re gone…there’s been no sign of them for weeks now. They’re not coming.”

This was apparently their plan for the time being. Whispering false truths to her about Dutch, how he was spotted on the other side of West Elizabeth, three days ride from, well wherever the hell she was.

“No,” Y/n gasped, her ribs grinding against the ground, bone and concrete. The lashes on her back felt like they were writhing as the leather whip in Steven’s hand dripped her slick blood.

“Stop!” Steven exploded, y/n was hazily aware of the whip being catapulted across the room, “Stop protecting them y/n! We’re here to help you, for God sake they-”

“Help me?” She hissed. He didn’t hear.

“don’t care about you! Look-” Steven grunted, hauling a chair from the desk to the front of her cell and throwing himself in it, “Life has been nothing but unkind to you y/n, we can see that,” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut as another dull, aching throb radiated from her back, “We’re at a point now where we can forgive you for all of your past crimes…you could walk away from this a free woman…marry a good man, whatever the hell you want…we just need something in return.”

She couldn’t meet his eye. Couldn’t begin to accept what he was telling her about her family but, the reality was, where were they? Weeks he said, weeks waiting in agony for the moment they’d come for her only to be left day in, day out, entirely and utterly alone. 

Y/n felt herself being lulled in to a numb state, all she could pitifully think of was that she wanted to go home: she wanted fresh clean clothes, Pearson’s warm soup, a story from Hosea, a hug from Dutch – when was the last time someone had touched her in an affectionate way?

“Please…” She wheezed through her shattered lungs as her eyes rolled, “Just leave me alone.”

This apparently wasn’t the right answer. Steven, in one fluid motion, swung the chair out from underneath him, hurling it at the cell. Colliding against the steel bars, the wood promptly splintered like fragile bones.

“You stupid bitch!” He exploded, “You can’t see help when it’s fucking standing in front of you! You refuse it like a fucking idiot!” He was gasping for breath as he bellowed, his podgy skin flushing scarlet, “No wonder you’ve ended up like this...all alone…” He was spitting at her, stalking across the front of her bars like a predator homing in on its prey. Y/n felt dull tears dribble down her cheeks as she began to drown in how utterly helpless she was. Crumpled on the floor, unable to move, unable to breathe. “This...” He stopped stalking, his pulsating eyes glaring down at her over his rounded cheeks, “This…” He repeated, lowering himself to her level, “is why deep down…you’ll always be an orphan.”

Y/n watched him curiously, he hadn’t acted like this before. He had always had control. She then focused on Tony behind him whose eyes were avidly watching a pocket watch as his flicked it back and forth between his fingers nimbly.

“We best get going.” Tony finally spoke into the silence, swinging his coat on before checking the bullets in his pistol.

“Not yet,” Y/n’s heart dropped as Steven turned back to her, “They aint getting you back.” He spat at her, his voice low, almost as if he was laughing at her. Y/n watched in silent trepidation as he pushed his key into her cell door and slung it open, “At least…” Y/n moved her eyes back to Tony, pleading for him to do something, “They aint getting you back alive.”

Lying there, face down, unable to move, y/n found herself desperately coming to terms with her own mortality as she heard the click of the gun; summoning all her strength she tried to raise her head to look at him but his steel capped boot struck her clean across the cheek. Choking out a feeble cry she then tried to use the momentum of the kick to roll away from him, but it was futile. With her body broken beneath her there was nothing she could do, and all too soon she felt the cold, lifeless tip of the gun’s barrel pushed against the back of her head. This was it. Her pathetic, ruthless, pain-filled life – this was the climax, the pièce de résistance. The final click sounded followed by a short explosion before finally, darkness.

****

“I told you to only blow the god-damn doors off!” Arthur hollered at Sean who merely gave him a meek look and a shrug of the shoulder. Irish idiot, Arthur thought. The explosion was only supposed to take out the chains and bolts encasing the front doors, but the underestimation of the TNT had caused a shudder through house’s frame, resulting in the roof crumbling in on itself.

“Okay boys!” Dutch commanded, getting off from his horse and assessing the damage, “They know we’re here now which is fine…there’s more of us than ‘em I can promise you that.” He turned back to the gang, patrolling across the front of them like an army captain, “One objective: get in there and find y/n…you see any Pinkertons…gun ‘em down. They messed with us…with our family.” Slowly and in unison, the Van der Linde gang pulled on their masks. “Aint nobody messes with the our family and survives…nobody.” They moved in.

Arthur turned left with Charles, moving swiftly through the large, white manor house they had tracked the Pinkertons to – and God what a job that was. Weeks had passed of tracking and losing sight of the Pinkertons, putting everyone’s necks on the line trying to find the whereabouts of y/n. At first, they had been so sure she was in this old, abandoned farmhouse. They planned meticulously their attack for a week before attempting, only to discover it was some O’Discrolls cooped up in there – y/n nowhere in sight. 

Realising how much time had been wasted, they quickly went back to work, until Micah’s loudmouth made things blow up in the local town. Time and effort were then directed to moving camp somewhere safe, no one allowed to go after y/n during that time – it was also during this time that Dutch and Arthur had a rather explosive argument. 

But they were finally here, finally had tracked her to this bulky manor house out west, and if she weren’t here… well, Arthur couldn’t think about that.

“In here,” Charles’ voice rumbled as they moved past some double doors. Sharing a quick glance with Charles, Arthur jolted forward, the doors snapping back out of his way as he moved into the room. Looking around, he noticed how it looked like it was crumpled in on itself, planks of wood, an old piano, a large cabinet that had been picked clean years ago. All signs of life felt distant and foreign, as if someone hadn’t lived there for years – still, Arthur couldn’t lose hope. He turned back to Charles shook his head and they moved on.

****

Y/n blinked for what felt like forever, her heart racing as a high-pitched whine completely dominated her hearing. She hadn’t expected to still be conscious so it took her a minute to gather her bearings. Slowly, fuzzy outlines hardened into shapes and then, objects. Something had exploded, something was happening. Y/n moved and her whole body burned but it didn’t matter anymore – something was happening.

Fumbling for a second, she dragged herself up, her legs threatening to give way underneath her as she clung onto a fallen beam for support. Looking around she saw Steven rolling around near her, his face contorted into that of agony as one of his legs sat stuck under a pile of rubble and brick, a low gurgling, gasping noise whining from his throat. Sweeping low, y/n swiftly plucked up his gun and felt adrenaline start to pump through her – she had the power now.

“I can help,” Her ears still ringing as she coyly smiled at the chubby, little man at her feet. “Make the pain stop…I mean…”

Y/n, without thinking, raised the gun to his head and shot. Blood splattered across the room. Letting out a long deep sigh, y/n felt herself snapping back into her body, her arms and legs now feeling a little more like her own. Looking over she saw Tony collapsed; maybe passed out, maybe dead. It didn’t matter.

Panic rose quickly inside her, she needed to get out. She didn’t know what was happening or what had sparked the explosion, but this could be her only chance to escape - she needed to get out now. Swinging herself clumsily around the corner she opened the door and peered out, her eyes greedily racing across all the new sights and imagery. She tried to move as light as she could across the creaking floor tiles, her legs limping and stumbling over one another beneath her. Maybe there were other people in the house, maybe she was just being overcautious. She didn’t much care. She just needed to get out.

Successfully reaching a flight of stairs, she began to pick her way down, half hanging over the barista, the world spinning around her. Then, she heard a noise, heavy thumps and distant voices – she wasn’t alone. Panic rose like bile and suddenly, she was racing down the stairs, another flight followed by the next – out, out, out. The next flight, almost there, keep the gun in hand. God it’s so heavy. The world spinning around her, the adrenaline not slowing down until she scrambled down that last flight of stairs until there in front of her were the doors, opening out in a grassy barren knoll ahead.

She didn’t care about the pain anymore, or the fact that all this movement had cracked open all her cuts and lashings – she ran. She ran faster than it felt like she had ever run before, racing forth into the greenery and the open night sky. The stars gleaming down on her as she sprinted through the tall grass, feeling the wind move through her, an explosion of smells - the world alive around her. Then, a figure arose from her right. Instinctively, she stumbled down into a crouch, hiding herself in the shrubbery.

“Any sign of her?” Someone called out, fear latched onto her heart, she already knew she was the ‘her’. She tried to make out the voice, but it felt like the whole world was swimming in her head.

“No…I think John found some dead bodies in the attic. He said they were real fresh though.” Another voice, a different accent. Why wouldn’t her head unscramble itself? She felt her stomach lurch at the name – she knew a John.

“But I thought…” She heard her own voice softly choke out as she rose to her knees, swaying back and forth as the Earth moved underneath her.

“So…she aint here?”

“Doesn’t look like it…there are signs she might’ve been…they’re going to burn down the house down though.”

Looking up over the spikey tops of the greenery, y/n tried to make out the dark silhouettes barely visible against the inky night sky.

“What the hell are we going to do?”

“They won’t give up…not when it comes to her…”

“Not when it comes to anyone, Javier. We’re family. No one gets left behind.” Y/n felt a sob explode out of her – it was them. Hosea and Javier, talking about her, looking for her – saving her. In the same second another explosion erupted, this time, it was to begin the fire. Bright and beautiful, greedily eating up the dry wood of the abandoned home and exploding light into the universe. The bright and beautiful universe in which her family were here, her family that had come for her.

“Hosea!” She tried to shout but it came out as a wheeze, her voice stuck somewhere in her broken throat as she dragged herself to her feet, stumbling forward towards the figures. “Javier!” She tried again, but no noise. Nothing. Something desperate arose in her, what if they couldn’t see her? What if they left her without realising they had found her, she was here, and she was safe now. She went to shout again, her feet stumbling beneath her.

Her hair was completely loose, her clothes torn, her body broken. The heat of the fire warming her skin and yet, her skin wasn’t warm, it was burning. Fresh blood dribbling down her body as her wounds split. She wanted to scream again but something stopped her.

“Y/n…” All he said was her name. Looking up all she could see was Arthur. He was walking between Hosea and Javier, away from the house, looking at her. He could see her.

“Arthur-” She tried to say his name, but a sob shattered her lungs. She silently begged him to come to her, to touch her as she began to crumble. And, almost as if he heard her, he jolted forwards, his face enigmatic as he reached out for her but just as he was about to reach out for her – she jumped back, as if he had shocked her.

She had this God-awful look in her eyes then, all glossy and confused, like she didn’t quite recognise him. Like she was questioning him, staring at him as if she couldn’t quite make her mind up about something.

“How long’s it been.” God her voice was quiet, barely audible over the sound of the fire, the shouts of Hosea and Javier as they called for the others.

“Since what?” Arthur heard his own voice softly rumble, all he wanted was to soothe her, touch her, keep her safe.

“Since I went missing Arthur?” She looked numb; her were eyes wide, her mouth half open, a salty mixture of tears, dirt and blood dribbling down her cheeks. Arthur had not realised a single question could make him feel so guilty.

“Um…maybe a few weeks…”

“Maybe?” She let out a shaky breath. He felt like a small stone settle at the bottom of his gut – guilt.

“Four weeks yesterday…that’s when you went missing.”

And there it was. Y/n’s mind felt like it was crumpling in on itself, beginning to choke on the feeling of betrayal. Four weeks. Four weeks they had left her there, maybe searching, maybe not. She had lay in that poor excuse for a jailcell for a month, she had been dragged past her breaking point, she had faced pain like she could never had imagined waiting every second, every minute for her family to do what a family does, to protect her and yet, where were they?

“Y/n, girl, there you-” Dutch’s gruff voice swam into her mind as she twisted away from Arthur. The blazing red of the fire and the inky blue of the night sky, all of it blurring into a complete and utter mess.

“Four weeks….” She was surprised at how meek her own voice sounded, she hated it venomously. How was it that she had become so weak? How had she gotten here, to this moment? “Where were you?” She turned back to where Arthur stood, his head bowed like a scolded runt and Dutch, his hand half outstretched towards her, his euphoric face crumbling. “How could you let…”

“Y/n we were looking for you…I promise we were looking…” Dutch began, already stumbling into his defensive tone. Y/n wanted to believe him, but then she blinked and suddenly she was back in her cell, the ominous faces of men she was savagely scared of hovering above her, sneering at her as they told her how her family had disappeared, left her behind, just like her parents did. She blinked once more, and they were gone.

“You were supposed to protect me-” Suddenly, she exploded, “We’re family! What kind of a family does that to one another…you left me there…you left me there with those men…”

“I know baby-” Dutch began again.

“No!” She was gasping now, unable to breathe – the smoke and the sobbing choking her, “You don’t know…if only you did…if only you knew what they did to me Dutch….” Her cheeks throbbed as she tried to resist a guttural sob, “I thought I was your daughter.”

“You are-”

“No…I aint.” Her legs were shaking now, the fire and sky crashing together once again, “You don’t do that to your daughter, you left me…you left me behind.” Suddenly the grass felt so soft, “You left me...” The grass was so gentle compared to the concrete of her cell, the soil softened, responded to her touch, moved with her – earth and flesh, “You left me just like they did…”

Resting back, she dug her fingers deep into the earth and looked up. The sky was hot, the soil cold. Her world being torn open around her, exploding and rearranging into something new.

Nothing would be the same.

*****

“Oh…you scared me.” Arthur murmured, his eyes flickering up to the ghostly figure at the mouth of his tent.

“Sorry I-” Y/n stood awkwardly between the folds of cloth, dressed in only her night things with her hair loose down her back. She looked young, a little like how she did when they had first met. Arthur also noticed then how delicate she looked; it had been like that for a few weeks now.

Dutch had basically carried her back to camp, leaving her with Ms Grimshaw so her wounds could be tended to. Arthur had checked in on her regularly during the first few days, he liked it most when she was asleep, it gave him time to watch over her without feeling as though he was intruding.

“No, it’s okay,” A sloping grin melted into his cheeks, “Stay...please…I got, uh, oatcakes and beer.”

“Wow…my lucky treat,” Arthur watched with concealed warmth as a smile pattered across her cheeks. It had felt like forever since he had seen her smile. “Sorry for intruding, guess I just wanted to be close to someone for a ‘lil bit. Can’t sleep, y’know,” Moving into his camp, she curled herself up on Arthur’s fur rug, resting her back against his side table; it was her position, whenever she had snuck into his tent she had always somehow folded herself into that specific corner and he had never dared question it for she would always aggressively insist she was comfortable.

“Yeah, I understand. I’d be lying if I said I don’t feel like that most of the time.”

“To be honest, it wasn’t made very clear when I signed up to this gang…” Y/n grinned at him, “Maybe then I would’ve rethought my application.” Arthur chuckled.

“True…they don’t exactly give you a run down before you start living a life of crime.” Moments like these were more regular the past few days. Moments where he found himself relaxing into the familiar rhythmic conversations with y/n that he had always had, it was comforting, a reminder that the pain was temporary. “How you holding up?”

“Fine,” She smiled at him, a real smile, “Ms Grimshaw works a miracle.”

“That she does,” He shuffled slightly to rest his back against the wagon next to his bed.

“Nothing really bad happened to me physically…I mean, nothing I can’t recover from.”

“And you will, with time, you always do.” She smiled at him again, but this time her eyes lowered after meeting his – was she nervous?

“I guess the only problem is…Dutch aint shifting outta protective mode any time soon.”

“He’ll get over it…” Arthur chuckled, “I think he’s just mad at himself y’know. You know how much you mean to him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” She nodded sleepily. “I know Morgan.” God, it killed him when she called him that. Suddenly, y/n’s face twisted up in a grimace and she jolted up, her hands stretching toward her back.

“Y’okay?” He asked nervously after a moment.

“Fine…fine…” She winced, rubbing at her shoulders, “Just not quite 100% yet, y’know.” He eyed her for a moment as she pushed her hair out of her face, trying to massage the spot in her shoulder that was causing her pain.

“Here,” He surprised himself by saying, “Let me do your hair.” She eyed him; an eyebrow half raised her lips slightly parted. It seems neither of them had expected him to raise that offer. “Oh c’mon, remember how I used to braid your hair before shooting lessons with Dutch?”

“Feels like a lifetime ago…” She murmured; a faint smile painted on her lips as her eyes clouded with a distant memory

“I ain’t forgotten how to,” He smiled at her and she smiled back, shyly. A pause. “Please y/n. I know I can’t do much to help you right now…I’m no good doctor, I’m a god damn idiot when it comes to words and, y’know, comforting people. So, please…let me do this.” He watched as her lips parted slightly into a distant smile, her eyes lighting up.

“Okay Morgan…if you really want to braid my hair I guess I’ll have to allow it. Just do a good job of it okay.”

“Who you trying to look good for?”

“Oh, you know me Morgan…everybody and nobody.” Arthur chuckled to himself. She plodded herself down on the floor next to his cot and, shifting over, he planted his legs like trunks either side of her, creating a small cove in which she could tuck herself.

He went to move her hair to the back when he noticed his hands shaking ever so slightly, his heart rate jumping too. Arthur tried to calm himself then and there but couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the feeling of her, the warmth along the inside of his claves as she curled into him, resting her head lightly against his right knee. Desperately trying not to hurt her, he scooped up her hair and used his fingers to softly comb behind her ears and down her neck, ensuring he had caught every soft wisp.

Silently, he cursed his fingers for being so calloused, spitefully thinking of how his fingers might be grazing her soft skin. Sweeping all her hair to the back, he watched as it loosely tumbled down before softly combing his fingers through it. He promptly forgot about how much he hated his hands, forgot his hatred of how he had always been so large and gruff, unsubtle and mean. Instead his mind became full of thoughts of her.

How different her hair colour looked in the orange candlelight compared to daylight. How long her hair tumbled down her back when loose and how he hadn’t noticed considering she always had it tied back. How he could see the skin of her neck peeking at him as her hair began to sway when he braided it. How that skin sloped down into the loose collar of her night shirt. The way her shoulders and back moved with her steady breath and, if he listened carefully, how he could hear it. Steady, strong, safe. It seemed all too quickly the braid twisted to a finish in his fingers.

“You got a tie?”

“Course,” She sleepily murmured. God that killed him. The way her eyes drooped, the way she moved without being conscious of what she was doing to him. She placed the tie in his outstretched palm and seemed to not realise that her delicate hands had brushed so softly against his rough ones.

“I’m scared,” She piped up as his fingers returned to her hair, her voice ever so slightly dreamy.

“That they’ll come take you again?” Now done, Arthur relaxed back into his cot a little but refused to move his legs, desperate to not disturb her.

“No…well yes but…” She melted deeper into the cove of his legs without thinking, “I’m scared that what they did to me, what happened in those weeks…I’m scared it’s going to be with me for the rest of my life, affect me for the rest of my life, I mean.”

“But-”

“Sorry, I know it sounds silly-”

“No…it doesn’t,” Arthur leaned forward, catching her eye, “There aint anything silly about what you went through, but…I know for a fact that it won’t affect you forever.” A beat.

“How?”

“Because you’re so much more than what happened to you in those four weeks. You’ve lived through hell; we all know it, and yet at the end the day – you’re more than any of the people who have hurt you.” He watched her looking at him, trying to figure out the enigmatic feeling written on her face, but the conversation moved swiftly on.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened in those weeks?” She whispered, not blinking, “Where you all were?”

“We were looking for you y/n, and that’s the God honest truth,”

“But-”

“But nothing y/n. For a while uh…things got complicated. We lost track for a bit and you paid for it, I’m sorry.” He looked down, wondering how far he could take this, “Y’know, I thought that you were dead, just for a moment…I was destroyed.” Her face remained enigmatic, “Now I’m scared to turn away from you for one second, I’m afraid I’ll lose you again.” It felt like he was crossing into unmarked territory.

“You’ll never lose me,” She breathed, “Not really.” A knot tied itself into existence in his gut.

Their eye contact never broke. It felt like it never would. Looking at her then, he felt like there were a million things he wanted to say to her, like there was so much of himself he had yet to reveal to her. The parts of himself which, in all honesty, cared for her more than he ever realised. Sitting there, with her tucked against his right knee, he couldn’t help himself.

Almost as if he were in a trance, he began to trace his fingers along the hair behind her left ear before scooping up her braid and shifting it to the side, how comforting it was to know that she was right there, under his fingertips. His left hand moved to her shoulder were he gently shifted the white cotton of her dress so that it slipped down, exposing her black and beaten shoulder. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, he brought his lips down and pressed them against her colourful skin. She shivered into his touch as his beard grazed her bare flesh, but she never looked away. He kissed her again, moving up closer to her neck, his eyes fluttering shut. He was so close that she could feel his breath fluttering across her exposed neck. She relaxed into him, almost daring him to go further until she noticed something – he was crying.

Soft beads rolled down his cheeks as he kissed her again, and again, and again. Softly, y/n started to hear his whispers warm into the silence.

“I’m sorry…”

“I can protect you…”

“They won’t ever hurt you again…”

“I’m here now…”

“I’m sorry…”

“I’m here…”

 Maybe y/n was right, maybe nothing would be the same. But change didn’t seem so scary anymore.

requests open <3

Tags:

@uniqueclodzinevoid​

@rollyjogerjones​

[justahopelessssromantic]

I know u just posted another daddy angel request but I got another if u don’t mind , I was thinking of how daddy angel will react on how his little girl who’s in head start comes home saying she’s got a little boyfriend lol 😂 😂😂😂

A/N: Here it finally is! Thank you so much for the request girl and giving me more inspiration for our precious Daddy Angel! Like I said I got a little carried away, (something about Daddy Angel just does that to me lol) so it’s kind of long. I hope you all enjoy and thanks so much for reading! 💕

*gif not mine*

Warnings: Fluff and Smut 😏 18+ Only

Sitting on the floor of your living room you were folding the gobs of laundry you had while listening to your favorite true crime podcast through your ear buds. The host was just getting to the description of the grisly murders that rocked London in 1888. You listened intently, relishing in every detail as you folded the sparkly pink leggings of your four year old daughter, Penelope.

He was now onto the first suspect and you grabbed Angel's Romero Bros work shirt slipping it on a hanger and laying it flat across the sofa behind you smoothing any wrinkles out with your hands.

You then dug out the various change that littered the bottom of the basket. Angel always forgot to clean his pockets out before throwing a load of laundry in and it drove you insane. You now had a jar full of coins that you were calling your "vacation" fund. At this rate you'd be going on vacation any day now and you just might be going on your own.

Standing yourself up from your seated position that you had been in too long, with a bit of a struggle, you stretched out your back before rubbing your hand over your swollen belly. Smiling you felt the little guy kick at your hand from the inside.

He was either going to be an excellent soccer player or dancer. Or maybe even both, you weren't quite sure yet.

Setting the stacks of folded laundry into your empty basic you hoisted the thing up and was about to head to your bedroom when your front door opened. Slipping the bud out of your ear you smiled at your husband and daughter who just got back from school, "Hey baby. How was your day?" You asked your little mini me.

There was no response as Angel hung her backpack on the hook in front of the door. "Hey, P! You know the rules." Angel's voice stopped her as she attempted to storm past. She may be angry with him but he wasn't gonna let her get away with disrespecting the rules of the house. Whipping around she shot her Pops a glare before huffing and slipping her shoes off at the door. She then proceeded to make her way towards you, stomping down the hall and into her bedroom.

You looked to your husband who was clearly also not in the best of moods, "What the hell happened? What's up with your daughter?" You asked him, you were clearly missing something.

Slipping his cut off he hung it beside her backpack and slipped his own shoes off setting them nicely by the door.

He stepped up to you giving you a kiss on the cheek before taking the basket out of your arms to lighten your load. "Did you know our four year old daughter, our baby, apparently has a fucking boyfriend?"

"What?" You tried your best to keep in the snicker, you really did but you just couldn't keep a straight face.

That was what all this was about?

"Why the hell are you laughing woman? It ain't funny," He scoffed, licking his lips like he does so often, “You know what his name is? Anthony, our daughter is dating a boy named Tony. Fucking Tony!”

“Oh my god Angel he’s just a child.” Was he really so threatened about a four year old boy named Anthony?, “What are you going to do? Go intimidate a little preschooler?”

“He’s not a child,” He rebutted, “He’s a little punk who is gonna steal my daughter’s innocent years!”

“Wow, Daddy is so dramatic,” You remarked, looking down at your bump to the child in your belly. You looked back up at him with a smile on your face. “You know she’s just like you. That’s why you butt heads all the damn time.”

He knew that, that was the problem. As the days went by he could see himself more and more in her. There’s nothing like having a child just like you to make you feel bad for your parents.

He placed his large hand over your bump, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the cotton of your shirt, “You better be like your Mama little man. The last thing we need is for her to be stuck with three of us.”

You placed your hand over his, running your finger across the gold wedding band adorning his ring finger. It had been seven glorious years that you had been husband and wife.

“You know that’s not necessarily a bad thing,” you looked just a little longer at the physical representation of your promise to each other, to love the other in the good and the bad, always. You returned your gaze back to those beautiful eyes that had you melting since the first moment they locked on with yours, “to be like you. Sure you are stubborn and selfish and hot headed and..”

“Hey, I thought you said it wasn’t all bad,” he interrupted you, setting the basket of laundry on the table beside you so he could have both his hands free. He stepped closer to you running his hands down the sides of your bump before resting them comfortably on your hips.

“And you have a terrible habit of interrupting me.” You teased grinning up at him as you continued.

“Right,” he chuckled, relaxing in your presence, “I’m sorry. Continue, mi amor.”

“But you’re also so loving. You have the biggest heart, Angel.” You placed your hands on his shoulders straightening out the collar of his shirt, “And you are always doing your best to do the right thing for your club, your family, even when it could put you at odds with those closest to you.”

You smiled up at him and it was one of the most beautiful sights in the world.

He leaned his head down, gravitating closer to you. You smelled of coconuts, shea butter, and vanilla. You smelled of home.

Stretching up to close what little gap was left you kissed his cheek, “And your smart,” then his jaw, “And loyal,” then the corner of his mouth, “And so incredibly sexy.” You purred.

He chuckled biting his lip, “I think you're losing your point here, mi dulce, but I don’t disagree.”

“And you are loved.” You finished with a passionate kiss. You pecked his lips once more before laying a smack to his ass, “Now go shower. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“God I love you,” he said, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it before cupping your face with the other and kissing you once more. He ran his thumb across your bottom lip soaking in your features as he pulled away and headed into the direction of the bathroom backwards all while grinning at you, his stunning beauty. His hand was still entwined with yours until he got too far away and he was forced to momentarily part with you.

You two had been together for a decade now but still acted like lovesick puppy dogs.

Picking the basket back up you made your way down the hall and to your daughter’s room. Tapping the doorway lightly to alert her to your presence you stepped into the room to find her sitting on her floor playing with her favorite motorcycle Angel had brought home for her after a run.

Placing the basket onto the bed you crouched down next to her, “Hey baby, do you wanna tell me about it?”

She rolled the bike back and forth across the floor keeping her focus on the toy, “Why won’t Daddy let me have a boyfriend?” She pouted, “It’s no fair.”

“Look at Mama for a minute baby,” You said gently running your hand over her dark curls. She did as you asked looking up to you with her big brown eyes. She was so much like Angel it was scary sometimes, “Daddy just has trouble sharing sometimes. He doesn’t want to have to share you,” you ran your thumb across her cheek lovingly, eliciting a little smile from her like you always could , “But he’s gonna work on it. Everyone has things they can do better at.”

“Like I’m gonna have to learn to share once my baby brother comes?” She asked, glancing to your stomach.

“Exactly,” you smiled down at her, “You are so smart, just like Daddy.” You kissed her cheek straightening back up. “You can play for a little longer but then it’s dinner time.”

She nodded returning her attention back to her motorcycle making little revving and rumbling noises as she rolled the toy around the ground. You put her clothes away into her little purple dresser before picking your basket up once more. You stole one more glance at your beautiful girl before exiting her room and heading down the hall to Angel and your’s shared bedroom.

Setting the basket on the foot of the bed you looked up just as Angel stepped out of the connected bathroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist. Smirking he watched you stare at him, "You like the view, mi dulce?"

"I'd like it better without the towel," you flirted biting your lip as your gaze lowered.

He shook his head sauntering over to you, "God pregnancy makes you fucking horny."

"I've never heard any complaints before,” You teased batting your lashes up at him. He cupped your face, kissing you slow and sweet.

“As much as I’d love to fuck you right now,” you murmured in his ear placing a kiss to his jaw. He groaned loving that foul mouth of yours, “You need to get dressed because dinner will be ready soon.”

With that you left him to it while you went to round up your daughter for dinner. She picked up her toys like you had asked before washing up for dinner and making her way to the kitchen with you. Helping her situated herself on her chair you placed a napkin over her lap.

Angel walked in shortly behind you, now much less distracting as he was fully dressed. He pulled you into him kissing you on the cheek as the oven timer dinged signaling your dinner was ready.

He pulled the lasagna out of the oven and set it atop the stove. Grabbing a spatula he cut the dish into pieces scooping out a small portion and cutting it up into little pieces to cool on Penelope’s favorite Toy Story plate. Next he scooped out a piece for you and then him, followed by some garlic bread to complete the meal with a scoop of sauerkraut spread across your toast just how you liked it. Carefully bringing them over to the table all at once, rather impressively, he set the meals in front of his two girls.

“Thank you baby.” You smiled at him. Licking your lips you turned your attention to your plate, mouth watering from the delicious aroma wafting from the food.

You gave your daughter a look as she pouted over her food clearly still holding a grudge against her father, “What do we say P?”

“Thank you Papi,” She grumbled rather begrudgingly before poking at her food with her little fork.

Angel took his place beside you cracking open his beer as he looked at his little world in front of him. He thought maybe she’d drop in by now and be all in his lap like usual but no she was a stubborn little thing.

“How about you tell us all about Anthony,” You suggested. Angel almost lost his shit as he looked at you wide eyed. She was already pissed at him, he didn’t want to add on to the fury.

She looked at you very suspiciously, not sure whose side it was you were on, her’s or her daddy’s. She took a bite of her lasagna as she stared Angel down, almost daring him to speak first.

You were starting to agree with Angel now and really hoped your second would be more like you. To say the atmosphere was tense would be an understatement.

“Daddy promises he will listen and be very understanding, right Daddy?” You looked to Angel with a smile plastered across your beautiful lips.

How could he say no to you? And you did put him on the spot, “Right,” he gave in. He would try his hardest, if only for you. He leaned back in his chair meeting her gaze and waited to hear all about this Tony kid.

You nodded giving her the room. Taking a sip from her sparkly cup filled with milk she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before beginning. “His name is Anthony,” she told you proudly with a smile on her face, ignoring her father’s gaze now.

“Yeah?” Angel spoke up and you prayed whatever came out of his mouth next would not set her off any more, “And what does this Anthony do? Does he work? How is he gonna provide for my baby?” He asked her, trying to throw her off.

“He’s Spider-Man, duh,” She said as if that should be common knowledge to him.

He tried to keep his composure but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face, “Spider-Man, huh? You can’t date Spider-Man baby. It’s too dangerous.” He tried to reason with the four year old across from him.

“But he’s a hero Daddy,” She furrowed her eyebrows at him before her features soften, “Just like you.”

His heart melted as he looked at his princesa. She knew exactly how to soften him up and he was a sucker for that.

“He’d protect me,” She continued on, “Just like you always do.” She added on to the sweetening of her father.

“I’ll make you a deal, Penelope,” He said, looking into those soft brown eyes surrounded by those dark lashes of hers as she batted her eyelashes at him. Now that she got from you. “I want to meet this Anthony the Spider-Man and then if he proves himself worthy of mi princesa I will consider it.”

She thought this proposition over for a moment in her head. It wasn’t exactly a win for her but she had softened him and she could soften him up some more, “Okay.” She agreed with a smug little smile on her face, “Can I be excused now?” She asked.

She had eaten a decent amount of food during the exchange so you gave her the go ahead. Picking her plate up she set it by the sink and walked off to go play in the living room.

“You know she just totally played you, right?” You grinned looking over at your husband. You expected there to be much more of a fight but damn was that girl good.

“I know,” He said flashing you a smirk, “But she’s not the only one playing this game, mi amor.”

You rolled your eyes mentally preparing yourself for the craziness that could await you in this next week.

—————————————————————————————————————

The next day your husband and daughter got home from school in a much better mood than the day before, thankfully. They were full of smiles as Angel hung her backpack up and they slipped their shoes off at the door like always.

“How’d it go?” You asked looking between the two. They exchanged a look and your daughter giggled. It appeared they were thick as thieves once again. “Did you meet Anthony?” You asked Angel.

“Nope.” He grinned at you, “Why don’t you tell Mama what you told me P?” He suggested proudly.

She shrugged nonchalantly, giving you a hug, “I broke up with Anthony. He tried to kiss me,” she scrunched her little face up in disgust, “It was icky.”

Angel chuckled at that, he’d never get tired of hearing her say that. Hopefully this phase lasted a while, “Yeah, kissing boys is very icky,” He agreed, “Right Mama?”

You shook your head letting out a laugh. At least the fighting was over, for now, “Yep, kissing boys is real icky.”

“And there’s only one hero for me,” She beamed at Angel before scurrying off to play in her room, full of energy.

“What about you Mama?” Angel asked, swaggering up to you, “Is there only one hero for you?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” You teased, “Superman is plenty enough for me.”

He smacked you on the ass playfully planting a kiss on your cheek before walking off to go clean up from work before dinner.

That night you tucked your little girl into bed and Angel read her two bedtime stories like always even though she was only supposed to get one, he couldn’t say no to her little pleas, before heading off to bed yourselves.

Crawling into bed together you turned your lamp off and waited for Angel to do the same. Instead he just stared at you with that look in his eyes and smirk upon his face, “I think you’re forgetting something, mi amor.”

“Yeah? And what might that be?”

“My goodnight kiss.” He grinned at you and puckered his lips.

“Oh is that so? But don’t you remember kissing boys is icky,” you teased giving him a grin back before turning around and snuggling into the bed facing away from him.

“Yeah well baby I’m not a boy, I’m a man.” You felt the bed shift as he settled closer to you.

“Really?” You teased some more, the smile still plastered to your face. You held your breath as you felt his hot breath against the skin of your neck, his large rough hand sliding across your stomach.

“I was man enough to knock you up twice now, wasn’t I?” he purred into your ear giving you chills.

He wasn't wrong.

Gently moving your hair from your neck he began kissing and sucking your sweet flesh, his hand wandering down your nightgown and taking hold of your breast flicking your erect nipple with his thumb.

Your breath hitched as you enjoyed the touch only he could provide you. He grinned into his kisses relishing in how your body responded to him and his yours, his stiff member pressing firmly against your ass.

Being the tease you were you wiggled your ass against him causing a low groan to rumble from within his chest. His hand wandered down hooking into the sides of your underwear before slipping them slowly down your legs.

Running his hand back up the side of your leg slowly he stopped at your thigh moving his hand in the other direction to tease between your legs. He kissed your jaw, then the side of your mouth, then your lips as you turned your head to meet his face. Running his hand back down your thigh he grabbed behind your knee pulling your leg up opening you further to him.

Yanking his boxer briefs down whilst never breaking your makeout session he grabbed his hard cock and teased the tip at your entrance collecting your sweet juices. You gasped at the contact and Angel took the opportunity to snake his tongue into your mouth before pushing slowly inside you.

You took him well, you always did and he stayed still a moment just relishing in the moment of your bodies coming together as one. Once you started to wiggle your hips, desperate for some form of friction he gave in to your needs, and his, and began thrusting at a slow sensual pace, his hand finding its place to rest on your bump.

He kept his pace slow and teasing. You felt so good wrapped around him, it took everything in him not to rush, but he wanted to prolong the both of your pleasure as long as he could.

It didn’t take long until you were pushing back against him meeting his thrusts and he knew you had had enough. Littering sloppy kisses across your shoulder he picked up the pace hitting all the right places. His hand traveled to your clit running circles around your most sensitive spot.

“Fuck,” you moaned out as your walls clenched around him.

“You close?” He murmured into your ear, “You wanna come?”

You nodded your head finding it hard to muster out any words as he continued his assault on your clitoris while simultaneously thrusting into you with such calculated movements of his hips.

“Say it,” he growled into your ear, ceasing his hand movements. He nibbled at your earlobe as he waited for the words he loved so much.

“Fuck,” you gasped out, desperate for him to return his touch, “Yes Daddy,” you gave him what he wanted, “Please.”

He smirked working his thumb once more as he pushed into you deeper, his thrusts getting sloppier as he began to twitch inside you, you both almost to your breaking point. He quickened the movements of his thumb and it wasn’t long before you came undone around him. Just a few more thrusts and he was right there with you filling you up as he moaned out face buried in your neck.

You lay there together, spent as he held your back close to his sweaty chest, still buried deep inside you. Kissing the back of your shoulder he mumbled into your skin, “I fucking love you, (Y/N).”

Everything Tag List: @jad3djay @fairygardenss @carlaangel86 @briannab1234 @starrynite7114 @agirllovespasta @howaboutash @gemini0410 @naytraydr @knowles-morgan

[365days365movies]

April 9, 2021: Some Like it Hot (1959) (Recap: Part One)

If there was ever a movie more hyped than this one...

Ever heard of the American Film Institute? Well, according to them in 2000 (recent, I know), this is the funniest comedy...period. At the time, anyway. That beats Tootsie (getting there), Dr. Strangelove (love it), Annie Hall (also loved it), Duck Soup (classic), Blazing Saddles (classic, topical, and fantastic), M*A*S*H (maybe later this year), It Happened One Night (maybe next year), The Graduate (later this WEEK), and...THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN Airplane! IS NUMBER 10? You CANNOT be seri...yeah, OK, you know where I’m going.

Anyway. Yeah, so, maybe AFI has Oscar syndrome, because that’s a little bullshit. So, uh...how about the BBC? In 2017, they asked 253 film critics ACROSS THE GLOBE what the best comedy of all time was, and number ONE was Some Like it Hot. Other than beating Airplane! again, it also beat Groundhog Day, Monty Python’s Life of Brian and Monty Python and the Holy Grail, This is Spinal Tap, The Big Lebowski, and His Girl Friday, and...well, every comedy you can think of. This movie CANNOT be that funny.

...Can it?

But there’s more to this film than that. Apparently, it was made without the approval of the MPPDA, which means that it wasn’t Hays Code adherent! Damn! In fact, this film was partially responsible for its collapse about 6 years later! But what is the Hays Code? Well, briefly covered, it was a set of standards laid out by Will Hays and his Motion Picture Produces and Distributors of America, or the MPPDA. It was enforced in the mid 1930s, and stood firmly in place until 1968, when it basically disappeared.

So, what are these standards? Well, there are a lot, but in a nutshell:

No cursing or taking the Lord’s name in vain in any way.

No nudity, real or suggested. And sex is kind of OK, if consensual and between a man and a woman ONLY. But, they can’t be in bed together, and they can only kiss one time, IF one of them isn’t a villain.

No weddings, no wedding nights, and barely any reference to marriage.

No prostitution, or what was called “white slavery”. Yes. Really.

Oh, also, no weird race-mixing stuff. What’s a “civil rights”?

Buuuuuuut...don’t insult any races either. Of course, considering the time period, “insult” or “offense” is probably subjective, so...fuck that, I guess.

PRIESTS ARE HOLY AND CANNOT BE MOCKED

No guns, fire, American flags, murder, smuggling, drugs, hanging, electrocution, or...law enforcement?

No childbirth, seen or inferred, and no naked kids. I mean...that’s common sense, to be completely fair.

NO RACE-MIXI-oh. Oh, I said that already, didn’t I? Well, OK, I’ll pare it down a little. They can’t have sex, but I guess...looking at each other is OK? Yeah, yeah, we’ll go with that. I’m progressive!

That about covers it. And this movie wasn’t adherent to it? Oh...well, I am excited! Let’s jump right in! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

The whole thing starts with a bang; literally. It's Chicago in 1929, smack dab in the middle of the Prohibition Era, and a group of gangsters are smuggling some alcohol inside of a coffin, while riding in a hearse. The cops aren't fooled, ad a shootout takes place between the gangsters and the cops, but they eventually drop off as the group takes the coffin into a funeral home. At the funeral home, a man named “Toothpick” Charlie (George E. Stone) meets with Mulligan (Pat O’Brien) a detective who’s got Charlie as his informant. With his help, he makes his way into the funeral home, actually a speakeasy in disguise.

Said speakeasy is run by “Spats” Colombo (George Raft), and within the speakeasy is a massive party, which the partygoers call a funeral. Spats arrives there shortly afterwards, and Mulligan watches all the while. Also at this party is a group of dancers accompanied by a band, which contains two partners, ladies’ man and sax player Joe (Tony Curtis) and anxious double bassist Jerry (Jack Lemmon).

The two talk about what they’re going to do with their upcoming paycheck, with Joe planning on using it for gambling on dog races. Jerry is understandably worried about this, as they owe rent, but Joe rattles off other things that he might was well worry about.

Suppose you got hit by a truck. Suppose the stock market crashes. Suppose Mary Pickford divorces Douglas Fairbanks. Suppose the Dodgers leave Brooklyn! Suppose Lake Michigan overflows.

Fun fact, though: the stock market’s about to crash in a year, Pickford and Fairbanks divorce in 1936, and the Dodgers left Brooklyn in 1957, famously. Lake Michigan has not overflowed...YET. It’s actually at record high water levels, and could cause flooding around it in the next few years. So, although those middle three were DEFINITELY part of the joke...that last one wasn’t at the time. Of course, it’s actually there as a line to set Jerry up with a way to tell him that the streets are “about to flood”, as he spots Mulligan and makes him. He tells Joe, and they both quietly pack up their instruments and leave, BEFORE the ruckus is about to begin.

And begin it does, and the cops raid the place almost immediately afterwards. As the party’s broken up and people are loaded into the paddywagon (Spats included), Joe and Jerry take their chance to escape behind the cops’ backs. However, this also means that the two musicians aren’t getting paid after all. Joe’s still set on betting money on the dog the next day, and get the money for the bet by selling their coats. However, while they do sell their coats, they instead end up looking for jobs at a local music agency, run by Sig Poliakoff (Billy Gray). 

The agency is recruited by band owner Sweet Sue (Joan Shawlee) and her nebbish band manager Bienstock (Dave Barry), as they need a bass and a sax player to replace two of their own, in their band in Florida. On hearing this from Poliakoff’s secretary Nellie (Barbara Drew), the two barge into the office. However, much to their dismay, the only ones they’re looking for are women. While Jerry tries to weasel their way in, it doesn’t quite work, and they instead take a job up north for a Valentine’s Day dance. The two go to a garage to borrow a car from Nellie in order to get to the job. There, playing cards, is Toothpick Charlie with a group of men. But then...somebody else arrives.

Spats and his men arrive at the garage, and tell all of the men to stand with their hands on the wall. Joe and Jerry, however, manage to hide in the garage. And if you know anything about Valentine’s Day during Prohibition Era Chicago...then you know exactly what’s about to happen to Toothpick and the guys.

After the massacre (based upon the real St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, Jerry makes a noise and alerts the gang to their presence. This is a problem, because Spats isn’t keen on the idea of witnesses, and immediately orders the musicians killed.With a distraction caused by the still-alive-but-dying Charlie, the two manage to escape Spats’ wrath. Now needing a fast way out of town, Joe figures out a plan. See, that job, the one from Sweet Sue, is in Florida, which is far enough away that they should be able to escape. But, uh...the band is only looking for women. And so...

This is the second most famous thing about the film. Meet Josephine and Daphne, the female aliases of Joe and Jerry respectively. As Jerry realizes the difficulties of the female wardrobe (namely skirts and heels), the two walk up to the band of women, known as “Sweet Sue and her Society Syncopators.” But they aren’t the only arrivals, and the other is the MOST famous thing about this movie...

This is Sugar “Kane” Kowalczyk, the lead singer, ukelele player, and...OK, look, it’s Marilyn Monroe, and I think I need to acknowledge this now. Marilyn Monroe is an underrated talent today, but she had a hell of a lot of potential as an actress and as an individual. She had a lot of troubles, and her early death by suicide is an absolute tragedy, no matter how you slice it. She’s a talented actress and singer, and she deserves recognition for that.

SHE IS ALSO INSANELY HOT I’M SORRY I’M WEAK

Look...it’s Marilyn fucking Monroe, OK? I know, I’m a straight cissexual man, but I wanted to make a point to acknowledge the fact that Marilyn Monroe is a talent far outside of her beauty and physicality. She (and all women) deserve that much, and deserve not to be objectified by the male gaze. I genuinely agree with this, and I do understand that concept. I’ll never personally understand the female experience, but it’s my responsibility and duty as an individual to understand experiences foreign to my own, including this one.

But DEAR LORD, her physicality is not easy to ignore, now and then! I mean COME ON! The woman’s considered a standard of classic beauty to this day by many (not by all, and not by herself), and it’s unfortunately her most famous feature to nearly everybody. But, of course, Monroe got a lot of grief for her looks as well (which is bullshit), and the stress of her life sadly led to her terrible suicide. But that doesn’t mean that her beauty inside and out shouldn’t be appreciated for what it is: beauty.

ALSO SHE IS DROP DEAD GORGEOUS I’M WEAK I KNOW

See, the train agrees with me! Oh...OH RIGHT, THE MOVIE! OK, where was I. Well, Joe and Jerry agree with me about Sugar Kane, but it is the 1950′s when the film is made, so of course they do. They watch her get on, and they follow suit, meeting the women of the band, and Sugar Kane. Sugar, see, has a teensy bit of an alcohol problem. That’s not necessarily to say she’s an alcoholic, but she is admonished for it by Sweet Sue and Bienstock, also being a repeat offender of drinking during working hours. That (and men) is something that Sweet Sue doesn’t tolerate.

She’s almost in trouble that night, when her flask falls from her stocking during a performance. However, Jerry covers for her, much to her appreciation. As they settle in for the night, all of the girls (including Joe and Jerry) sleep in the same cabin, much to the, uh, frustration of Jerry, despite Josephine’s urgings to keep it together. As Jerry continually reminds himself that he’s posing as a girl, he’s surprised that night with the appearance of Sugar, who comes to thank her for her help that night. Sugar tells “Daphne” that she owes her one, and also climbs into the cot with him to hide from Sweet Sue. Jerry...that poor mother fucker.

Well, Jerry tries to ease the tension by offering some of Joe’s whisky. But more of the girls overhear this, and eventually, a massive party erupts, with all the girls mixing drinks and sharing the single space of Jerry’s bed. Joe wakes up from all of this, and tries to help end the party, only for Sugar to climb out of it, and ask Joe for help with a block of ice for the drinks.

It’s here that she reveals that she used to work with men’s bands, but joined this band to get away from men. This is especially to get away from her weakness: tenor sax players. This intrigues Joe, the tenor sax player. However, she’s essentially sworn off of tenor sax players because of multiple bad relationships, and is instead hoping to find a millionaire in Florida, preferably one with a yacht. Meanwhile, Jerry’s bed is getting a little too full, and the girls are getting a little TOO familiar. They start to tickle him, and to prevent his cover being blown, Jerry pulls the train’s emergency brake. All of the girls scatter as the train stops, and they manage to get away with the party as Sweet Sue and Bienstock wake up only then.

The train gets to Florida, and the girls make their way into a hotel. As they check in, Jerry (as Daphne) is spotted by Osgood Fielding III (Joe E. Brown), a millionaire, and a man with eclectic tastes in women. And those tastes apparently include Daphne, as he unsubtly (and unwantedly) hits on her. And Jerry’s having none of it. After Osgood pinches him in the elevator, he gets off after slapping him. Unfortunately, that makes Osgood only want Daphne THAT MUCH MORE. This man...this man may just be the legendary alpha simp of which the stories tell.

Meanwhile, Joe manages to get ahold of Beinstock’s luggage and glasses. He steals his clothes (after fending off an overeager bellboy), and uses them to dress as a millionaire. Why? Why, to seduce Sugar, of course!

This is right at the halfway point, so we’ll pick this up in Part Two! See you there!

[lovelyirony]

can I request stevesharon for the otp ask, please?

of course! 

Coffee shop AU: Who is the barista, and who frequents the coffee shop?

Steve signed up to be a barista because he needs to make an Instagram account for one of his art classes detailing how he uses art in everyday life, and he’s convinced that maybe if he learns how to make good coffee, then he’ll actually learn to like it. 

He’s right about both of these things, and gains a certain reputation around campus for having the best art pieces. (There are also the people who simply come to watch him work. Steve is quite the handsome man.) 

And then there’s Sharon, who is done with everyone and pays no attention to the heart he draws in foam in each and every one of her lavender-mint lattes. At this point, he’s dying. So he needs to up his game, he thinks. 

Highschool/College AU: Who is the straight-A student, and who’s the backrow slacker?

Steve doesn’t think he’s doing that badly in math until Fury takes him aside and tells him that if he doesn’t raise his grade, he’s out of the football championship, and he needs recruiters to see him so that he can get a scholarship. 

Enter in Sharon, who is a tutor and also in the class before his. She’s nice, to the point, and teases Steve at every possible moment about football. But she does help in math, and she promises to come to the game on Friday. 

Rivals to loves AU: Who takes their rivalry seriously, and who is half in it just to push the other’s buttons?

Steve takes their rivalry very seriously. It all started in eighth grade when Sharon showed him up on the diving board, and they’ve been competing in everything ever since. 

He’s always annoyed at how easy Sharon can just...take it? She doesn’t get mad at him like he gets mad at her, and she says that she finds it cute that he’s still holding a grudge over a “silly diving board round.” 

He’s not giving up. 

Enemies to lovers AU: Which one switches sides?

Steve and Sharon have been enemies ever since Steve got in the way of Sharon’s mission and basically assumed that she couldn’t do her job because she’s not him. Well, Sharon states that she didn’t need to go into a special machine and come out absolutely jacked to hell to do her job, and there’s the rivalry. 

There’s also the fact that they’re both after the exclusive Potts Ruby, one of Tony Stark’s most prized possessions. 

And they both signed up to be on the same security team for said Miss Potts. This is going to be hell. 

At least, up until Steve starts to realize that maybe Sharon isn’t as bad as he thought...

Soulmate AU: Who is eager to meet their soulmate? Who absolutely does not want to meet their soulmate?

Steve is very eager to meet his soulmate. He was always told my his mom that soulmates were special, and to be cherished. 

Sharon grew up with a mother who couldn’t give a damn about soulmates, not even when she had ended up with hers. Sharon learns that soulmates don’t necessarily guarantee that you get a great life full of love and happiness. She’s not looking forward to it. 

But Steve won’t give up. Not yet. 

Single parent AU: Which one is the single parent? (Alt. if they’re both single parents: Which one is open to starting a new relationship from the start? Which one is never planning on finding love again… Until they meet the other and are instantly smitten?)

Sharon is very surprised when she gets a tiny little girl in her self-defense class, no more than seven years old, determined to “kick as much ass as possible, starting now.” Those were the words, verbatim. 

She’s more surprised that this little girl’s dad is a “aw geez, shucks mister” kind of character, wrapped up in too-tight t-shirts and seemingly oblivious to the gazes of all the PTA moms at the dance studio/gym. 

Doctor AU: Which one is the longsuffering doctor? Which one is the patient?

Steve wishes that Sharon would stop coming into his place of work with cuts and bruises all the time, and possible concussions. She tends to be as stubborn as him, which is endearing until she refuses painkillers and insists that she can get home just fine, thank you very much. 

He also wishes that he didn’t know what caused the cuts and bruises, although he’s also a secret agent, so he understand the realities of the job. (Even though he went to medical school to make sure he could take care of himself.) 

Bodyguard AU: Who is the bodyguard? Who are they protecting? Which one is secretly pining for the other?

Sharon is the bodyguard to world-famous actor Steve Rogers, who tends to have some intriguingly obsessed fans. Steve insists he doesn’t need a bodyguard, but can’t seem to shake Sharon off of him quite yet. 

Sharon is determined to stick to her job and learn about why Steve Rogers is so squirmy around her after six months of working together. He wasn’t like that at first, and she’s not sure what’s causing it. 

Pirate AU: Who is the pirate? Who is the member of the royal family who did not sign up for this?

Steve is all about justice. And if he has to ransack royal ballrooms and terrify queens and kings, then he’s fine with that. Serves them right when he sees the subjects of the kingdom starving and malnourished. 

But the Carter Kingdom isn’t on his list. In fact, they do a bang-up job of running a country, although he thinks their desserts could use a little work. 

They’ve hired him to find Sharon, the next in line for the throne. She disappeared into the night, clearly kidnapped if the broken windows and bloodshed was anything to go by. 

He searches for a year, finding out more and more about this woman. It’s not until he runs into one of her former suitors that he finds a miniature, and falls a little bit in love with her teasing smile and elegant demeanor. It paints a picture of a lady who knows exactly her worth, but knows how to go along with everyone’s expectations until the last moment. 

So he isn’t expecting Romanoff’s ship to have a brand new member of the crew, who looks remarkably similar and has expertise in handling a sword, and pressing it against his throat. 

Well. That is...nice. 

Childhood best friends AU: Which one was super obviously in love with the other the whole time? Who was oblivious until they were older?

Sharon’s been in love with Steve since they were in seventh grade and she moved to their school. Steve’s been focused on being just like his father, preparing for an army and still having the boniest body she’s ever seen. 

But every Halloween, they go trick-or-treating and every Christmas, they exchange gifts and have snowball fights with Bucky and Sam. 

And every year, she falls more and more. 

She nearly gives up when it’s high school and it’s the end of everything, and they’re going to college. She should just get over it. 

...right? 

[youngbugandtonystank]

Why marvel fans love Pepper but hate gwyneth? Someone on twitter said she was the most unrelatable celeb ever and in a magazine, people labeled her the most hated woman on earth. Did she do something problematic? Or she a Trump supporter?

You know, years ago I was kinda curious as to why everyone hated her so much. She's listed as Hollywood's most hated actress too. She's always on one of those lists. 

Why Do So Many People Hate Gwyneth Paltrow?

Gwyneth Paltrow is perfectly aware of how obnoxious she can seem

Gwyneth Paltrow responds to that time a magazine named her The Most Hated Celebrity in the World

Why does everyone hate Gwyneth Paltrow?

Gwyneth Paltrow on Being the Most Hated Celebrity

And the list goes on.

Some people think she practices some dangerous spiritual teachings and she's giving people the wrong information. They also think she heavily promotes and sells questionable things that could be potentially dangerous. In some sense, this is true because medical professionals have been asked to check the products over. The majority of them say the products are not backed up by science and state that these items are actually dangerous. I think that she looks like a scammer in the eyes of other people because she sometimes falsely advertises her business and products. 

Some others say her cosmetics are way overpriced and really bad for your skin. I heard a drama about some healing stickers, etc. As a spiritual person myself, I can't really judge that much until I see her Netflix show so I can't really agree or disagree in this matter.

About the other things. After doing some investigation, I found out the real reason. At first, I thought it was some quirky personality trait but then I saw most of her interviews, press conferences, and her business promos. She's not a bad person but she's definitely a little out of touch. I'm guessing because she grew up in a wealthy environment, she rules out some stuff when talking about sensitive topics. I take her as a "Paris Hilton, Kim K, and Mariah Carey" personality type, you know? Like, she puts up on a funny sophisticated diva-like personality but she's different in private. It’s funny because some people hate her but have no problems buying Kylie’s overpriced products either. I buy their products, mostly because I love skincare and makeup but you don’t see me hating on them. 

I once saw a comment under one of her interviews saying: ‘and after watching this you think this woman is not married to Tony Stark?’ hahahahah. And gotta say, she's really funny lmaooo the other day I saw her in her youtube cooking show section (part of the Goop brand, I guess), she was doing holiday snacks. She started saying that anyone could do the ‘simple’ recipes at home and that they were practical or something like that. After saying that, you'd think she was about to do some Christmas cookies or some family recipe, instead, she put caviar on a chip and put the ‘snack’ on a fancy white plate lmaooooooooo I died and went to heaven. You can imagine the rest of the ‘holiday snacks’ that followed after that one. I'm not exactly rich as hell but let's just say I'm doing great with my finances thanks to my job (I thank God for that every day) so I'm usually around people like her, and this is why I can tell she's not a bad person, just out of touch. And what do I mean by that? Let me give you an example, after doing her ‘holiday snack lmao’ she started talking about how caviar is not necessarily expensive, she said that you don't exactly have to sell a limb to buy it and proceeded to say that she always serves the same thing at parties and that it's easy and practical to make. You get what I mean? For her, it's not a problem because she can afford it but for others, of course, it is. These kinds of comments come off as self-absorbed for other people. 

Another one, let's just put the children's hospital example this time, any other person would bring toys, medical support, or coloring books, someone like Gwyneth would bring expensive silk pillows, salty crackers, or scented vanilla candles lmao. I'm not saying she's doing it on purpose, I think she's not aware she's doing something inaccessible for others because she's always in that mindset/environment. For her, it's not something harmful. Same with the avengers thing, you have Tom Holland saying ‘thank you’ and ‘I'm lucky to be here’ every five seconds when talking about his experience in the franchise, Robert saying he wouldn't be where he is without the amazing actors surrounding him; always making sure to give them an opportunity to shine, Elizabeth Olsen moved to tears when a fan tells her that Wanda is her daily inspiration, Don Cheadle talking about how the Avengers movies have been the experience of a lifetime and how fortunate he is to be part of something so big. Gwyneth, on the other side, forgets she was even in the movies, gives spoilers without a filter in a movie that is the result of 11 years of hard work about her and Tony's characters (this is how I found out Morgan was real btw like months before the movie even if I also suspected they were going to do this years ago), and forgets her co-stars names to the point they have to reintroduce themselves to her LMFAO I get that the marvel franchise is not her entire life and focus, but I think you get the point I'm trying to make. Or, she could be doing this on purpose to troll her haters. 

She always does that. With everything. You just have to watch some of her interviews and you're going to be able to tell.

Someone on twitter said she was the most unrelatable celeb ever

Some people get mad when their fave turns out to be different in real life. Those people can't separate the fictional character from the actor/actress. Of course, she's not going to be like Pepper, I get that but some stans irrationally hate her for practically breathing. I understand that some of her opinions and actions seem a little materialistic and pretentious but she's not attacking anyone in particular. It's annoying? Sure, sometimes. Who wants to hear someone talk about their wealthy lifestyle when discussing sensitive or normal topics? No one. People love someone who they can relate to but you gotta understand Gwyneth is not doing it because she thinks she's better than you. That's just how her lifestyle is. Waaaay different than ours. The same applies to the other actors. You really think we're closer to having Zendaya's lifestyle only because we can relate to some of her jokes, because she wears baggy hipster clothes or because she uses less expensive skincare products for a ‘go to bed with me’ harper's bazaar video? (I love those videos btw lmao) No sweetheart, after doing an interview or those vids, they get escorted by their private security guards to the limo/expensive car waiting for them with a chauffeur ready to drive them to a photoshoot with vogue. Is that your typical Tuesday? 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 Or that we're one and the same with Sebastian Stan because he eats burgers on Thursdays and watches Rick and Morty in pajamas? (no idea if this is true, just an example) No. Of course not. They're celebrities, they get paid for showing their faces to the public. A simple statement out of them can make people talk about them for days. A simple selfie can turn into a Twitter trend. They're human? Sure, we have to respect that 100% but their lifestyle is totally different and this is something we should be aware of too. So we can't really expect Gwyneth to act just like us. I'm sure most of us would act the same as her if we were born in gold and caviar.

I once defended her in a YouTube comment section and some dudebro got angry at me and called me an ‘obsessive pepper x tony’ fan. *stares at the camera like in the office* I don't even ship pepperony lmaooooo

And I don’t know if she’s a Trump supporter, I’m going to dig around to see if this is true. 

So there you go, that's my opinion. And no, I don't care if you agree or not (this is not for you, op) it's an opinion, chill.

[captainscanadian]

Long Way Home | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 2)

MY MASTERLIST

Series Masterlist

Summary: They meet again. 

Word Count: 2200+

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky Barnes x Doctor!Reader, Doctor!Steve Rogers, Nurse!Wanda Maximoff, Doctor!Pietro Maximoff

Warnings: Heart Disease, Hospital, Surgery. 

A/N: Give it up for another clusterfuck from yours truly. Thanks again to my dearest @dramadreamer14​ for the beta, as always. I haven’t written two parts in a day since a year ago so I got really excited to post this one. I DON’T DO TAGLISTS! Divider by @firefly-graphics​ <3

The moment he landed in Boston, Bucky Barnes decided to scratch his initial plan of heading to his new apartment, and instead took a cab from the airport to Massachusetts General Hospital. Despite the fact that he was not supposed to be starting his new job until the following week, receiving that email from Dr. Y/L/N about the Stark method patient had made him rather eager to get to work. Perhaps he was getting a little ahead of himself, but then again, he knew himself better than anyone else. There was no way he could have sat alone in his apartment for an entire week with his inherent need to operate. 

Not that he was expecting to operate immediately after he arrived at the hospital, given that the patient he had been wanting to work with was refusing surgery after all. If this patient had refused to let Tony Stark operate on her again, he knew that he would have a much more difficult time trying to convince her to let him operate on her. But Bucky was not someone who would walk away from a challenge, and this case was as challenging as it got. 

When he arrived at the hospital, he rushed inside and headed straight up to the Heart Center. He knew that he should probably check in with the new Chief of Surgery, maybe even inform him that his best friend had landed safely in Boston. But he had just been too eager to make it to his consultation, and he could see Steve when he was done. 

“Hi, I’m looking for Dr. Y/L/N’s office.” Bucky greeted the red haired woman at the Nurses’ Desk with a rather polite smile. 

Wanda Maximoff raised her eyebrow at the man who had just approached her, rolling her eyes as she was pulled away from her emails to give him directions. “I’m sorry, who?” She asked, as  the only Dr. Y/L/N she knew did not work here at the Heart Center. 

“Dr. Y/N Y/L/N? She requested a consult with me this afternoon. She should be expecting me.” He replied. “I’m Dr. James Barnes. I’m the new Chief of Cardio.”

The moment those words slipped through his mouth, Wanda found herself rising from her seat. “O-Oh… you’re… you’re the man of the house. I’m so sorry!” She was certain that he wasn’t supposed to be starting until next week. Had he come here incognito to spy on the department before he was going to take charge? No, that couldn’t be possible. He had just told her his name. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s… it’s just been a long day. My apologies, Dr. Barnes.” 

Bucky let out a soft chuckle at her words and shook his head. “Hey, it’s no problem. I know I shouldn’t be here for a few days, but Dr. Y/L/N requested an emergency consult. Do you know where I can find her?”

“Um…” The nurse bit down on her bottom lip for a moment, not knowing how to break this to him. “Dr. Y/L/N doesn’t work here.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, she doesn’t work here at the Heart Center.” She clarified. “Dr. Y/L/N is the Director of Neonatal Surgery. She runs the Newborn Developmental Follow-Up Clinic next door.” 

Bucky’s eyes grew wide at the response. “What?” 

First things first, it came as a surprise to him that a neonatal surgeon had requested a consult with him. After all, he specialized in Adult Congenital Heart Diseases, so naturally he was equipped to run Tony’s department following his retirement. Second of all, why was a neonatal surgeon requesting a consult for an adult patient? 

“You’ll be able to find her in the Blake Building next door. Would you like me to direct you there?” Wanda asked. “It’s not a long walk from here…” 

“Uh… no, I think I got it.” Bucky smiled politely at the woman. “But I would appreciate it if you could direct me to my office.” He was here, after all. He might as well get started with work. 

“Oh yes, of course.” She nodded, sitting back down in her seat. “Just give me one moment. I’ll just need to activate your key card and get you to sign a bunch of paperwork. Dr. Rogers gave me special instructions on which photo of yours to use for your profile.” 

Bucky let out a rather exhausted sigh. “Oh did he really?” He asked before shaking his head. 

“He said you insisted.” 

He leaned against the counter before shaking his head once again. “That punk.” 

“Is it true that you both attended Columbia together?” Wanda asked, rather curiously. “Word travels fast around this hospital.” 

“Yeah, we did. We grew up together, actually. I’ve known him since I was twelve years old.” He replied. 

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? Knowing someone when you’re a kid, and then having to work with them when you’re adults?” She remarked, closing her emails for a moment so that she could activate Dr. Barnes’ key card. 

“What makes you say that?” He asked, curiously. “Because you do sound like you’re speaking from experience.” 

“My fraternal twin, he works as a pediatric cardiologist. You'd think I'd gotten rid of him once I graduated from nursing school. But he went off to med school, and came back to work right here in this department. It’s quite the humbling experience." She explained, chuckling softly. “I know a thing or two about working with your best friend, but working for your best friend? I don’t know if I can help you with that, doc.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He nodded, laughing softly. “You know, I never got your name.”

“Wanda Maximoff.” 

“A pleasure to meet you, Wanda.” 

Following the formalities that needed to be completed before he could be let into his office, Dr. James Barnes eventually found himself logging onto his office computer and searching up a certain ‘Dr. Y/N Y/L/N’. 

Her employee profile on the hospital’s website stated that she was a triple board certified Neonatal Surgeon, and the Director of Neonatal Surgery. He had come across a series of articles on congenital heart diseases she had published in the medical journal within the last few years. Her LinkedIn profile mentioned that she had attended Harvard Medical School, and graduated Summa Cum Laude. 

As impressive as her credentials were, what caught his attention was not any of her accomplishments. It was the photo of her on her profile, and the familiarity that he felt upon seeing her eyes. For a moment, Bucky wondered if there was a time when their paths would have crossed. Perhaps, they had met at a conference of some sort, given that they both specialized in congenital heart diseases. But then again, if they had met recently, he would remember her, wouldn’t he? 

But as he pondered about where he would have met Dr. Y/L/N, he was pulled out of his thoughts by a knock on his door. 

“Come in.” Bucky called out, quickly closing all of his tabs. 

Steve Rogers stepped into his best friend’s office with a rather disappointed look on his face. “What in the goddamn world are you doing here, ya jerk?” 

“Nice to see you too, punk.” He chuckled, rising from his seat to pull him into an embrace. “I was going to come by your office, but I’ve got to head out for a consult in a bit.”

“A consult? Already?” Steve raised his brow. “Buck, you don’t start until next week.” 

“Says who?”

“Says me.” 

“You’re not the boss of me.” He rolled his eyes, even though he knew that Steve was indeed his boss. 

“Actually… I am.” He pointed out, a rather wide grin on his face. “All those years of being neck and neck with you and missing out on the ranks really paid off. I made Chief before you did, pal.” 

“Oh don’t be so full of yourself, buddy. I only took this job because you begged me to.” He reminded him. 

“Begging Is a stretch. I simply made a request.” Steve protested. “And I wanted my best friend to be closer to me.” 

“Aw you missed me, pal?” 

“Yeah, I did.” He admitted, a smile on his lips as he looked over at Bucky. “Best friends like you are rare to find, and easy to lose. Call me a sap all you want, Buck. But the last eight years haven’t been the same without you.” 

Needless to say, Steve wasn’t the only one who could say that. Someone could say that the last thirty years hadn’t been the same without him, if she even remembered him. 

Y/N’s morning had been spent doing rounds around the NICU, having barely walked around the entire floor before her feet began to ache. Two days it had been since they had started to ache, but she paid no heed to them, shrugging them off as the consequence for having stood in the OR for fifteen hours earlier that week. Unfortunately though, she knew the exact reason why her feet were aching. She was just too stubborn to accept that. 

“Pietro, I’m fine!” She exclaimed as her friend sat her down on the couch in her office and removed her shoes, noticing the swelling on her ankles before he gave her a look of utter disbelief. 

“You need to stop being so stubborn, Y/N.” He said, rather sternly. He wouldn’t yell at her, but he knew that she was being extremely negligent about her health ever since Dr. Stark had announced his retirement. “This isn’t normal, especially not for someone with a history of heart disease.” 

She knew that he was right. She knew that she was being stubborn, and that her symptoms were not normal. But with Tony retiring, she hadn’t managed to find that kind of trust in any other doctor. 

It had taken a lot of convincing on Tony’s part for her to even consider setting up a meeting with the new Chief of Cardio. But even then, she doubted if she could trust that man with her life. Perhaps her hesitance to go for surgery was not necessarily based on trust, but her own refusal to go back to the way things used to be when she had first left her hometown in Indiana and arrived in Boston at the age of five. 

Y/N Y/L/N had been a patient at Massachusetts General Hospital long before she had become the Director of Neonatal Surgery. She had spent months on end being admitted in the same Pediatrics Ward where she currently worked, missing out on her life as a normal kid even though she had been surrounded by children her own age. Her normal had been different than most people, and she refused to return to that state yet again. She had come so far, and worked so hard, to go back to that dark place. 

“I have a consultation with the Chief of Cardio later today, okay?” She assured him, as though it was progress in her eventually agreeing for surgery. “I’ll have a chat with him and see what we can do about this.” 

Surgery was out of the question for Y/N. She was not going to have anyone cut into her chest again, not with the way her last surgery had caused her a massive lifestyle change. She had given up her entire life to ensure that she was staying healthy. But if that hadn’t been enough, then what even was the point? 

“And if he suggests surgery?” Pietro questioned. “What would you do if he tells you that he needs to operate, just like Stark did?” Given her condition, even he knew that surgery was the best option. 

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, Pietro.” She admitted, letting out a sigh of exhaustion as she leaned back against the couch. “You should get back to work. I’m just going to put my feet up for a bit.” 

God, could anyone be as stubborn as Y/N Y/L/N? Pietro Maximoff had no idea. “Okay, but don’t walk around too much. I’ll ask Romanoff if she could handle your patients for the day. Just stay in your office, okay? This isn’t a good sign.” 

“I know, I know… just go.” 

Pietro could only hope that she listened to him and stayed put in her office for the rest of the day, but it seemed that she had dozed off as he was leaving her office. 

“If the doctors don’t fix you, then I’ll become a doctor and I’ll fix you, Bambi.”

“You would be the best doctor in the whole wide world!”

Suddenly, there was a knock on her door as Y/N found herself waking up from her nap. She checked the time on her watch to see that she hadn’t been asleep for too long. That had to be Dr. Barnes, right? 

“Come on in!” She called out, quickly removing her feet from the coffee table and slipping them into her shoes. 

As Bucky walked into Dr. Y/L/N’s office, there were a thousand questions that he wanted to ask her. But not even one of them was, ‘Hey Bambi, would you let me keep my promise now?’ 

[ugly-anastasia]

Not Ready to Make Nice | Sinnie + Tonee

Annie takes Simba up on an invitation that he really didn’t offer her, and some other guests overhear...

@simba-bonfamille-lyons @inperfection-ashlee @foreverydinger

Date: 19 July 2021 TW: A brief (not graphic) mention of murder

ANNIE:

So... there had been a lot more behind that "Wow! Yum!" on Twitter. Honestly, Annie wasn't sure she was even supposed to be engaging with Simba. For, like, legal reasons or whatever. But she was kind of pissed at Mummy anyway for getting herself in enough trouble that she couldn't give Annie more financial help, and she also didn't really care about whatever shit had gone down between Mummy and Simba. Simba was popular and well-liked in town. Annie needed to be on his good side.

So she called the babysitter to look after the kids for an hour (their cuteness could be useful, but the risk factor of them completely trashing Simba's house was too high), stopped by the Moon Market and picked up a prepackaged steak and kidney pie, transferred it to a cute little ceramic dish, and drove over to the address she had managed to wrestle out of an old classmate. Easy.

"Hiya!" Annie said in a chipper, and very American, voice. "I was in the neighborhood and I just couldn't resist. That food on Twitter looked so yummy."

SIMBA

Simba had been cooking all day. Well, most of the day. He'd taken a trip this morning to the local mosque in NTO to deliver meat that he'd bought from the butcher's and to attend prayer with his mum. But, after that, it had been an all day cooking affair. It was holidays like these that he missed Nala most, but he was grateful for all the friends and family he did have.

He was looking forward to seeing everyone later. It was always nice how many people showed up to his Eid gatherings. The show of support from the community was always bolstering. Especially right now, with the Blackwells hanging over his head.

At first, Simba didn't recognize the voice. Or the face. (Was there something off about it? Or had it just been too long?) He had a smile on his face as he turned from chatting with Ashlee, reaching out to take the dish so that he could put it with the rest of the food, but then he recognized who it was and he stopped dead.

"What are you doing here Anastasia?"

TONY

Did Tony celebrate Eid? No. Did Tony like food, especially free food? Yes. Plus maybe he could get in Ashlee's good graces again if he just made himself available to her. It was hard seeing the lack of recognition there in her eyes but there was little he could do about it aside from just... replace it with new memories.

So he sat in Simba's house with a plate of food, on his way to make conversation with Ashlee and Simba, when he heard the voice ring out into the room.

It couldn't be...? Anastasia fucking Tremaine?! What was she doing her?!

"Uh-oh," he mumbled, glancing Ashlee's way.

ASHLEE

Ashlee both kind of hated the open invitation to the house and enjoyed it? She didn't like to seem like she enjoyed it. A lot of the time if people did come it was people she didn't know or didn't like and after socializing and eating for a bit she'd escape either to her room or out with the girls.

She was getting used to it more and more though.

At least until Simba froze in his tracks and the half smile she had on dropped as well. Bristling quickly. She didn't know who this person was but there was very few people that made Simba react like that. Infact she wasn't that sure if she had even since him not interact with a smile for someone that showed up.

And she didn't like being confused.

"Uh-oh what?" Ashlee questioned hearing the kid that walked up to them. What did he know that she didn't?

ANNIE

Great. She had an audience. One thing never changed about Swynlake: nobody could mind their own business. Ever.

But having an audience meant that everyone could see how goddamn gracefully she would handle this. Including the random-ass teenagers watching from the sidelines. Anastasia glanced at them uneasily before she put on her biggest, sweetest smile for Simba.

"Aww, you don't have to be so formal! I actually go by Annie now. Way easier to say." She winked. "But to answer your question, I had a bit of a disaster in my personal life, dunno if you've heard, and I thought I really ought to come back to my roots. Leave the big city, come back to this cute little town and reconnect with the people who made me who I am, you know? I'm so glad you threw this little party. I'd love to catch up."

Maybe those random kids could help her. "Hey there!" she said, waving. "Y'all know Simba?"

SIMBA

Simba's nostrils flared slightly and he had the horrible, irrational instinct to step in front of Ashlee and keep her away from "Annie."

It wasn't, necessarily, fair to Annie. After all, she hadn't even been in town. Already left for college by the time her mother helped cover up his father's death, but her proximity to Rodmilla Tremaine made him uneasy. He had trouble trusting lawyers these days, but he was pretty sure everything that he'd done with InterPride was wrapped up in a neat little bow.

His arrangement with Rodmilla was much less official. He would not be surprised if she'd sent her daughter to try and make amends. To soften him for her own return.

Honestly, he had no idea how much Annie even knew. That didn't make him feel any more hospitable.

"It's not a 'little party', it's Eid. A religious holiday and celebration," Simba bit out. "And this is Ashlee Tomassian, my--" Simba actually wasn't sure what to call her, considering everyone in town already knew her situation "--daughter. And her friend."

TONY

Eesh, the whole room was starting to feel tense. Tony remembered Annie from secondary and, if his memory served, she was not exactly the best companion to most of the school. It had made for some good stories but Tony wasn't sure those were the types of stories that belonged in Simba's adult home.

Now her little American lilt and smile was... unnerving. He glanced at Simba's face and then Ashlee's. Yeah, definitely not a good situation in front of them.

"She's actually a--" Tony stopped his explanation that she was a native to Swynlake both because she answered that herself and then when she turned her sights on the pair of teens.

Y'all know Simba?

Tony grimaced at the question. "Uh... Yeah.. He, uh, taught at the secondary school for a little bit and he's... um... Simba? How do you not--"

Just shut up, Tony.

ASHLEE

There were so many things Ashlee wanted to comment on.

A little party - she didn't celebrate Eid but she knew better than to call it a little party. Especially when she knew how important this was to Simba. That's after all why she was here and why she tried to learn about it.

The causality of 'y'all know Simba' Of course Ashlee knew Simba, she was insulted for a moment this woman didn't even know who she was.  How did anyone in this town not know Simba.

Her lackadaisical mannerism. For someone who put Simba on guard, that was what bothered her the most.

And not that Ashlee ever slouched but she stood taller, a cat ready to hiss. That familiar defensiveness that caused her to lash out, to fight (with words at least).

But just for a moment Ashlee's defenses fell glancing up at Simba's introduction of her. It wasn't a word they ever used but she wasn't mad at it. She softened just for a moment. But then it was back up again because who was she truly? To walk in like this.

"I don't think there's anyone in this house that doesn't know Simba." Ashlee agreed glancing at the guy trying to place his name. He was her friend as per Simba and she would keep face and go with it better to not disagree with the person you were fighting with.

ANNIE

Anastasia could sense the hostility. She wasn't oblivious. Even the more subtle callout coming from the kids. Well, fine, she thought. she would just have to kill them with kindness. After all, what did a couple of uni kids know about her?

Unless Simba talked about her. Jeez, could that be possible?

High road, Annie, she told herself.

"Riiiight, my b! Who doesn't know Simba?" she laughed, maybe a little too loudly. "Good to know you run this town just as much as ever. A regular Mr. Mayor, aren't you?" Anastasia looked around at the rest of the crew. "Allllrighty then, are we gonna hover in doorways like vampires at a cookout or should we get this party started?"

SIMBA

Simba had glanced at Ashlee, feeling weird because they'd never really discussed that and it was kind of a big thing and he didn't want her to think he was trying to replace or erase anyone in her life. It was just--he cared about her as more than a ward or a responsibility. It wasn't as easy as it was with Kiara, who was and always would be his cousin. Though their relationship was obviously more complicated that.

Yallah, this was not what he needed to be thinking about right now.

Instead, he watched this Tremaine try to take a step further into his house and he felt himself bristle.

"I think it's best if you left, Annie," Simba told her firmly, though he kept his voice low. He didn't want to make a scene, but he also did not want a Tremaine in his house. Simba had spent the last four years trying to learn forgiveness and finding it almost impossible. Not that he blamed Annie, but he had no idea what her motivations were and he would not take any risks.

TONY

Tony wondered if Anastasia had ever learned how to read a room because her current behavior pointed to no, not really.

Simba was clearly tense, a sight that wasn't common here in Swynlake, and Tony couldn't help the messy teen energy inside him that was a little intrigued by that.

What? No one ever said Tony was mature!

"Hey, Ashlee, isn't this holiday about community? I, uh, don't know if bringing bad energy in here is a good idea, do you?"

ASHLEE

Okay maybe this kid was okay, she really did need to figure out who the hell he was? Maybe in Nemo's grade? Maybe a new transfer? That was something to worry about later.

Smirking Ashlee grinned at him and then up at Annie "I wouldn't think so. I'm already feeling the mood drop in general. Instead of coming in it might be better to head out and get fresh air. Plus if *My Dad *doesn't think it's a good idea for you to stay I imagine a lot of people in here might think the same. Don't you?" She really wished she had his name at the moment that would be helpful.

Ashlee also probably didn't need to throw that title in there but it worked.  And Ashlee knew the power of words and there was nothing that this woman could say that would change her mind as long as Simba wanted her out of the house.

ANNIE

Anastasia looked from Simba to his two little minions and back to Simba. Well. She had at least expected him to be polite, maybe a little passive-aggressive. So the comments caught her off guard, and for a moment, Anastasia's jaw dropped.

But just as quickly, she put on that same sugary smile as ever.

"I'm not gonna lie, I'm mighty hurt. I guess I got a little too used to southern hospitality," she said, then giggled in that tinkling tone of hers. "Y'all enjoy the pie, alright?"

SIMBA

Simba, honestly, wished that Ashlee and her friend weren't here. If they weren't, he could've handled this a lot more firmly. Told Annie exactly why she wasn't welcome. Made it clear that if she approached his husband or Ashlee or any one else in his family, or went snooping around InterPride, he would make it his business that she left Swynlake as soon as possible.

Also, he didn't need kids sticking up for him and getting caught in the crossfire. He remembered how cruel and cutting all the Tremaines could be with their sharp tongues. Simba had underestimated them for petty once before. He wasn't going to do it again.

This also meant that her smile caught him off guard, some of his anger deflating. He hated when people messed around with people like this. It made him feel like he'd overreacted, or was making things up.

Also, he was pissed that he couldn't enjoy the fact someone had called him Dad and meant it. (Kiara used to do it, but mostly as a joke.)

His eyes stayed hard. "I'm sorry you feel that way," he said, his voice betraying that he didn't feel that sorry at all. "Ashlee, go put the pie on the table, please. I'll escort Annie out."

TONY

Tony couldn't stop his own grin from spreading at Ashlee's quick and sharp tongue coming out. It felt like forever since something like this had happened.

This wasn't to take away from the clearly strong familial moment that was happening with the pressure of this situation but Tony felt like it was probably better not to focus on that given... not his circus not his monkeys, you know?

"Someone was real quick to forget how Swynlake works," Tony chuckled at Annie's confession of feeling slighted. "I can help you with that, Ashlee."

ASHLEE

Poor thing. Not.

"Someone was real quick to forget they are not entitled to someone's forgiveness or hospitality." Ashlee agreed daring Annie to say something about it for just the second Ashlee had left in this conversation while she took the dish from Simba. If only they could just toss the food but that wasn't what Eid was about. So fine she would put it on the table.  "Bye bye Annie."

Nodding her head for the guy to follow with her.

With just enough distance. "Sorry what's your name again?

ANNIE

This was going to be a lot harder than Anastasia had thought. Maybe she had jumped in too quickly. Maybe she should have started out small, rather than chasing down the lion's den (heh) from the start. Anastasia didn't get it. Should she not have made the vampire joke? These Gen Z kids were so particular about that stuff nowadays...

Or maybe it was just that they trusted Simba.

She waited for the kids to leave before narrowing her eyes at Simba. "Simba Lyons, I have been nothing but pleasant and kind to you," she said simply. She wasn't going to beg for him to let him stay. Anastasia had a little bit of pride left. But she felt the need to point that out. "I'll be going soon, I promise, but we really can't let bygones be bygones?"

TONY

Tony snickered as he stood from his seat. Honestly, he'd missed being a petty teen sometimes. Stretching his Mean Kid Energy for just this moment felt refreshing.

When was the last time he'd gotten in a fight? Had it been Phineas? Damn, that had been awhile.

"Later, Annie!" He called over his shoulder as he fell into step behind Ashlee. His heart gave a pang at the question despite knowing it was coming.

"Tony, Tony Rydinger. I'm an upper sixth form."

ASHLEE

That made sense and why Ashlee didn't really recognize him. She wouldn't if she was about two years ahead of him.

"Ashlee Tommassian. Though it sounds like you already knew that. Thanks for jumping in and helping there. I don't really know the story but if she pissed off Simba, she deserves whatever she's getting." Ashlee mused setting the dish on the table among the many many other dishes. "Did you want to grab something or maybe try to listen in some more?"

SIMBA

"It's Bonfamille-Lyons now," Simba corrected her swiftly.

He kept his body blocking her from being able to walk off the dias. Simba didn't often use his larger frame to intimidate. He knew that he was tall and broad and that he could easily look threatening to others. (Not to mention how some people might just assume it based on the color of his skin.) He always walked tall and proud, but his movements were always loose and easy.

They weren't now. He was drawn up to his full height, shoulders straight and lowered. His arms were crossed over his chest.

"And no, we can't. I would prefer if we just stayed out of each other's way, if you are planning on being in town for an extended period of time. And stay away from Ashlee and my husband. And especially my mother. She doesn't need any reminders about what your mother did." He kept his voice low, away from prying ears.

He didn't do this for Anastasia either, but because he didn't want everything that had happened dragged back up. His failures, how blind he had been, how easily manipulated.

TONY

"Right, uh, you're friends with Nemo and Ian. Ian's my roommate." He explained swiftly. It was the easiest way to wave away the odd fact he knew about her. He had connections.

"It's nice to actually meet you, though. They both have a lot of nice things to say about you." He glanced at the food on the table then shook his head. "I mean, I definitely wanna find out what Simba and Annie are doing out there. She's gonna be a menace I'm sure!"

ASHLEE

Ashlee nodded at the names, for a moment she actually felt bad she didn't know him or even of him, after all if he knew Nemo and Ian, the latter enough to live with him. Then again Ian was friends with Eilonwy and Ashlee was still struggling on her insistence of being friends. It made her bristle feeling like Eilonwy wanted something more. That her kindness was fake.

At least Tony had a little mean streak in him.

"They better or they would get an earful from me for spreading lies." Ashlee grinned. "If we want to be sneaky it's best to head around the back and just listen from the side of the house."

ANNIE

Anastasia couldn't keep this up much longer. It was so much easier to fight with people online like this, where they couldn't see your face, or to fight with the other moms at playgroup back in Nashville. At least everyone had the sense to pretend like they were being nice while, underneath, they wanted to rip you apart.

But there was only so much of Simba's direct approach that Anastasia could take.

Her voice dropped a few octaves, and her old accent crept in slightly as the facade dropped. "You leave my mother out of this. You and your little company already succeeded in ruining her life, so you don't need to go ruining mine, too by turning this town against me." Anastasia stuck her chin in the air stubbornly, her expression shifting to an ugly scowl. "Fine, though, I'll stay out of your way. But I would appreciate if you would have the decency not to humiliate me in front of the children. Seeing as I'm not going anywhere. I live here now, and I'm going to get my life back. You're not getting in the way of that.”

TONY

Tony nodded, glad to follow Ashlee's lead. It was nice not to be the one in charge of a situation. He'd been befriending way too many introverts as of late. Spending time with Ashlee and her friends was a whole different experience to what he was dealing with here.

"Oh Ian's anything but untruthful," Tony chuckled. "Perfect. You show me the way and I'll keep quiet. I feel like this town is so boring sometimes for drama."

ASHLEE

It had been a long time since Ashlee had snuck around. Unlike her old home Simba and Berlioz gave her the freedom she needed as long as she was vocal with them and she was, never feeling the need to not be. Anything she asked or brought up they listened. Even if it was far inbetween. And she was still nervous to do so.

"You're not making the right type of friends if you're looking for drama. Secondary has probably gotten much duller as of late."

But that didn't mean she wasn't good at it. Quick and light on her feet and everyone was busy talking to really pay attention to two kids slipping out the back.

TONY

"You're telling me!" Tony sighed wistfully. "Honestly might need to stir some shit myself if I want to stay awake in school this year," Tony complained.

This was something he couldn't really complain to Ian about because his more soft-around-the-edges friend was not the type to understand this feeling.

He leaned close to the wall as they both headed to where they could snoop on the feuding adults in peace. He winked over at Ashlee conspiratorially.

SIMBA

Ah, there it was.

Simba didn't feel even a little bad, In fact, he was relieved that she was showing her true colors. It made all this so much easier for the both of them.

"I won't get in the way of it as long as I don't have any reason to," Simba told her. After all, he could recognize that Annie might have had nothing to do with everything. She had been young when Mufasa had died. Hardly even an adult. And it wasn't like Rodmilla to involve her precious daughters in her criminal dealings.

"But let me make one thing extremely clear: your mother ruined her own life when she knowingly covered up a murder, so don't blame me for her moral failure."

ASHLEE

Ashlee settled herself against the corner of the house, she didn't need to turn around to know Simba's voice though for a moment she did think she needed to double check he was the one talking.

She knowingly covered up a murder? Ashlee mouthed to Tony. What the fuck had actually happened, who covered up what and were they in jail was the important piece.

TONY

Tony's eyes widened at the words. Honestly he had some... guesses... but also this was Swynlake and shit happened all the time so trying to guess who was murdered seemed like rushing to conclusions.

He shrugged at Ashlee, just as confused and concerned about what could be happening.

ANNIE

Jeez. Well. If Simba was going to just put it out there like that, Anastasia wasn’t going to hold back either.

She didn’t like the word “murder.” It was so dramatic.

“She did what she had to do,” Anastasia said vaguely, because she wasn’t sure if people might overhear and wouldn’t that be the final disappointment, for Anastasia to land Mummy in jail. How fitting. And... Anastasia didn’t really know the details anyway. But corruption and scandal was part of the Tremaine family history, like any other core value. “You don’t know what it’s like to be her. Or me, for that matter. Life isn’t all sunshine and roses, and sometimes when an opportunity presents itself, you gotta take it. And I’m sorry people got hurt, but that’s... life.”

Not exactly the idealistic, cheery image Anastasia put forth online. But cynicism didn’t rake in the money or influence the way her optimistic go-getter attitude did.

ASHLEE

Ashlee actually felt like she was going to be sick. To speak so casually of murder, to chalk it up to that's life it reminded her too much of her own Dad. Who cared about who was hurt if it meant the end result was what you wanted.

And maybe that was hypocritical of her considering her own past and her part in what she had done with the girls but this was just frightening. But there was a difference, Ashlee at least liked to think there was a difference, she wasn't as bad at this woman. (Who sounded different? Was that in her head?)

SIMBA

Simba's hand clenched into a fist by his side. He felt his anger spike--a wild thing inside of him, so loud it was almost frightening. It made him want to reach for a drink. Thankfully, there wasn't any inside and he couldn't disappear from his own party.

Besides, he wasn't going to break his sobriety streak for a Tremaine.

Nor was he about to get in a physical altercation on his door step. Though, he wanted to. No doubt.

How could she--

That's life? People got hurt? His father had been murdered. Taken away from him and he had blamed himself for years because of Annie's mother. She had ruined his life just as much as Taka had.

"Get off my property," he snapped at her, his voice rising up enough that he was sure people through the open door behind them could hear it. He refused to shout, but it wasn't far off.

He had plenty of more choice words for Anastasia Tremaine, but it was a holy day and he had a family and friends and community to celebrate. Even if this conversation had put him in a black mood and he just wanted to go upstairs and lock himself in his room.

TONY

Tony felt anger flare in his own chest at Anastasia's words. He couldn't imagine anyone saying that that was just life. Excusing literal murder! He thought back on anything he knew of Anastasia or her family. In truth he had paid little attention to the girl in secondary and now he was seriously regretting it if he was missing this information.

This can't be happening, right? He mouthed to Ashlee. Tony couldn't help but feel a little frightened. If they were dealing with someone that unhinged was it wise to leave Simba alone with her? Was it wise to be eavesdropping on her?!

ANNIE

Anastasia knew Simba hated her family’s guts. But she only knew it in a vague sense. All the shit with Taka had gone down while she was back in Nashville, and it had only affected Anastasia in the sense that now Mummy couldn’t take the whole family on vacations to Nice and Aruba and Switzerland anymore because of her stupid new nonprofit job. The way Anastasia saw it, the details didn’t really matter, but the reality was that Simba had taken something from her that she believed she was entitled to.

But Anastasia wasn’t good in confrontations the way Drizella was. Anastasia’s style of fighting was subtler, quieter. If Drizella were here, maybe she would have a cutting line or a scary threat. All Anastasia had was her practiced ability to shut down her feelings.

She took a step back and stared at Simba, nodded, and then smiled. “Enjoy the party,” she said, the twang returning to her voice. “I’ll see y’all around.”

And with that, Anastasia turned on her heel and returned to her car, hoping Simba didn’t notice the slight tremble in her gait.

ASHLEE

Ashlee wished she didn't know, she wished she could have gone on believing this was some stupid petty drama, it was as simple as a 'my fam doesn't like this person so i don't like this person'. But this ran so much deeper than she could have thought.

Shaking her head Ashlee struggled to form words. I don't know but we should go. it was just go where? Simba would come in soon, Where was Berlioz, hopefully he could help Simba cause that was heavy and Ashlee was not the one with the ability to help. They could escape to her room? Yeah that was probably best. Grabbing Tony's hand she pulled him back toward the back door and swiveled up the stairs quickly. "What the hell was that????"

TONY

Oh his head was reeling at this whole experience. He blinked when Ashlee grabbed him but allowed the tug to lead him inside once again. He hadn't been to her room in Simba's before so it was somewhat of a jarring moment of him realizing this was a big deal.

"I don't know! I knew she was from Swynlake and her family had some beef with people but not that!" He admitted. "She was known as kind of a bitch but not a murder-excusing bitch!"

ASHLEE

Ashlee didn't even know what to say, she really wished they hadn't done that. It kind of gave her the creeps and it was way too close of a comparison to her Baba for her.

"We can't say anything. We don't know what the hell any of that meant or how it effects Simba." Tony better not open his mouth and spill unless they knew more.

TONY

Tony took a deep breath to try to steady himself. When he had said this year was going to be boring he hadn't considered finding out about literal murder. And now Ashlee was expecting him to keep this between them?!

"Jesus, yeah, I get it. What are we gonna do, though? Are we just, what, waiting to find out what's going on?" He shook his head. "You okay?"

ASHLEE

"Nothing, Whatever that was is old and dark and does not need to be touched by us." Maybe not even that old considering she was maybe Simba's age. But she knew they knew too much. Maybe she would find out from Simba at some point, or maybe not but she wasn't letting Tony in much. What she knew was that Simba was good and she trusted his judgement on whatever the hell that was. 

TONY

Tony frowned at Ashlee's words. It seemed like the sort of response that was, well, responsible and adult... and Tony, despite all of his efforts, wasn't really either of those things. He wanted to investigate, wanted to do something to get to the bottom of.

"I... guess so... I mean.. I s'ppose we're still... young." Don't think about how long you've been on Earth, Tony. "Jesus.."

ASHLEE

"It's not about being young, it's about getting involved in whoever covered a murder. I'm a performance major, you're a secondary kid. We're not equipped to handle that. And I already went through one shit storm involving the courts. I sure as hell don't want another. Not to mention Heresay, the fact we don't have the whole story and its not like we can just walk up and ask someone." Maybe she could, but she didn't think she had a right. "It's not like I believe Simba is part of a massive cover up." (Hopefully) "So it might already be dealt with, you know." 

TONY

Tony didn't like the response, didn't like the way he knew Ashlee was right. He took another steadying breath because, really, she was entirely correct. They were kids despite... every complicating part of Tony's life and curse.

"Yeah, right, of-of course.. Yeah, um, Simba's resourceful and-and powerful... If he had any way of settling this he would. We just gotta... trust the adults." Sure, that wasn't Tony's strong suit but he could try. "Are you okay, though? Like, is there.. anything I can... do for you?"

ASHLEE

Ashlee really hoped it was as simple as it was already taken care of. She really really did. Flopping down on her bed Ashlee sighed covering her eyes. No more spying for her. It wasn't worth it, if this was the outcome. Especially considering she didn't know if she could hid it on her face when she eventually faced Simba.

"It's fine I'm fine. we should just wait a few and head back down. Worse comes to worse they think we're making out or something up here." Which no but it was the lessor of a few evils right now.

TONY

"Gotcha..."

Tony sat down on the floor beside the bed so he wouldn't crowd her. This was ridiculous. Swynlake constantly churned out so much drama! He supposed he shouldn't be freaked out but it was.. jarring.. to see people he'd gone to school with involved in such heinous things.

"Well I would hope Simba has more faith in you than that," Tony laughed softly, a little forced. "But I can see where the concern comes."

ASHLEE

"Probably if only cause I've had a few dates with Michael since prom." And Ashlee was not the cheating kind or even had enough people she was interested in anyway.

Ashlee sighed looking up at her ceiling. Did she ask Simba or not was the question now.

[anika-ann]

Hands Too Cold, but Heart of Gold - Pt.1

The Recruitment

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Matt Murdock x reader (no SR x MM x r)

Word count: 2120

Summary: Avenger!reader AU, love triangle. Every hero has an origin story. Yours not soall that great. One more reason not to mention it during the first face to face meeting with DD. ...right.

Warnings: mention of death, mentions of violence, swearing, fluff, mild angst…?

Story Mastelist

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“No, no way. I’m not doing it,” you exclaimed resolutely, spinning on your heels.

Heavy, yet somewhat gentle hand fell on your shoulder, turning you back. You bit your lip and looked up at your boss and the closest friend in one person.

His eyebrow was raised in challenge. “Are disobeying your orders?”

You could hear his light teasing just like the serious note in his tone. And of course, Captain America’s authoritative voice was unmistakable. You just gaped.

“It’s a waste of time, St— Captain,” you bit back wryly and he made a disapproving face.

“Don’t pull that out, you know I-“

“Yes, Captain?”

His expression turned annoyed at the interruption and your snarky tone.

You knew you were being cranky, but trying to convince Daredevil, freaking Daredevil, the patron not-exactly-saint of Hell’s Kitchen, was not on your I’d-love-to-do-this list. More like the opposite. That guy was very obviously a lone wolf who loved playing on his own playground and you were not judgemental of that – he was dedicated to his home and that was fine. His way of saying no to joining the Avengers might be a bit rude, but given how many people – well, people – had been trying to convince him to step up to the plate and think on a larger scale than ten blocks, you couldn’t really blame him.

Steve’s hands caressed your shoulders and you bit your lip harder. His baby blue eyes were staring at the bottom of your soul, making you shiver. He had beautiful eyes, serious most of the time, getting incredibly charming when a spark of mischief appeared in them; and make no mistake, Captain America had a lot of mischief in himself despite the righteousness radiating from him to miles.

You blinked, trying to escape his gaze; it was annoying how it always sent your heart racing.

“Just give it a try. No one will be angry with you if you fail. I won’t either. But I believe in you,” he pronounced softly, making you swallow embarrassingly loudly when his thumbs caressed your shoulders.

Jeez, you were such a sucker for his ‘I believe in you’.

Of course, you had a good reason. His speech had been the one that inspired you to join the team. To stop pitying yourself and woman up – yes, that was exactly the term he had used, because his love for strong women was infinite –, to use your accidently gained powers to do some good. He had been the one to find you almost five months ago in the completely frozen lab – your work, not that you had intended it –, shaking, but not from cold. You had been scared to death – you had killed people. You had killed the people who had been trying to help you-- and he had come to you, slowly, putting his shield away despite your warnings and offered you a literal helping hand, promising he hadn’t been there to harm you and he had believed you wouldn’t have hurt him. That he had believed in you.

You fought tears at the memory – you always had. You had hurt him in the end – just a little frostbite really, nothing his super-soldier’s body couldn’t handle – and yet, you had felt almost as sorry as for taking the other people’s lives. But Steve Rogers hadn’t been mad at you. He had stuck around, helped you to get a hold of your powers and the two of you had become colleagues slash friends. Very close friends, actually. Also, you had a bit of a crush on him, but who hadn’t.

“Goddammit, Steve,” you whined silently and his face lit up as he realized he had won. Not from his boss position, no; he had won the way he always had, as a friend of yours.

“I knew I could count on you, Frosty,” he whispered, enclosing you in a short gentle hug.

You rolled your eyes. “You know, Rogers, for someone who napped for about seventy years in ice, you really are pushing your luck.”

Secretly, you loved the nickname he gave you. People called you Frostbite, but Steve never had, aware what kind of a painful reminder of what you had done to him and everyone else the first time using your uncontrollable powers it was. No, he called you Frosty or Snowflake, because he was a sweetheart. Tony, on the other hand, was a dick, calling you Elsa. The others called you either your first name, or your last name. And then there was Thor, calling you the Lady of Ice. You loved your team. It was a delight to work with them. A very exhausting delight.

“Nah, you like me too much.”

You scoffed. He was perfectly on point of course. “I still don’t understand why it’s not you coming, Captain Righteousness. I’m sure you would have handled him better, oh Star Spangled Man with a Plan.”

He let go of you, ruffling your hair to show how much he was still cranky about Clint showing you the videos, both old and rather recent ones. To be fair, you deserved that; but you couldn’t help but tease him about it; some of them were cute, while the others were just hilarious.

“Careful, you still have a problem for saying a bad word.” You rolled your eyes. You had said ‘goddammit.’ Wuss. “And I do have a plan.”

You expectantly raised your eyebrows, curious. He winked.

“I have you.”

────── ·❆· ──────

‘This is ridiculous. I’m tracking a man in a Devil suit in, myself in an icily blue catsuit, Captain America’s voice in my ear. What is my life?’

“Still copy?”

“Yep.”

“He’s around the Piers 42/44, heading North.”

“Rogers that,” you mumbled, not fighting the smirk that always found its way to your lips when talking to Steve via comms, saying ‘Rogers that’ instead of just ‘Roger’. It was just too funny and you needed funny in your life. Even if you could basically hear him rolling his eyes at that. Rude.

You created an ice slide, rising and falling to help you to move faster. Tony had designed special shoes for you to move easily on it, while not giving yourself a shiner – it had taken quite a lot of tries and lots of black-eyes plus one broken radius, but hell if it hadn’t been worth it. Ha, hell.

Never mind. You had a task to complete.

You saw him now, the Devil. He slowed down visibly, which surprised you. He had actually managed to disappear on Tony in the sewers once. He had walked away in the middle of Cap’s recruitment speech, ignorant. Sure, he hadn’t shaken Natasha off, but hadn’t agreed either. Thor and Clint hadn’t tried yet. You wondered what Devil’s strategy was this time.

He stopped completely then and you landed few steps from him, a bit wary. You had done your reading on the Devil; he was fast, efficient and didn’t hesitate to break a bone or two. Or six. To be fair, you read about why he did it, on what occasions, and you truly weren’t judgemental.

“Wasn’t expecting any black ice tonight. It’s only September,” he commented nonchalantly, his voice deep. Not necessarily hostile though – you took that as a win.

Perhaps Steve knew what he was doing, sending you – you weren’t as notoriously famous as the others who had actually been present during The Battle of New York were, so maybe the Devil found it refreshing or something.

You wordlessly let your icy toboggan-bridge disappear. “Daredevil.”

“Why are you here? Have your teammates not gotten the message yet? Did you draw the shortest straw today?”

“Something like that.”

“The answer is still no.”

“Why?” you asked, already guessing the answer.

Because he belonged in the Hell’s Kitchen. Because he was a vigilante, not a hero, not an Avenger.

“I don’t really feel like fighting aliens. And someone needs to take down drug rings and smaller things that escape your notice,” he replied wryly and you sighed.

“You think we don’t see that?”

“Press harder.”

“Sounds like you don’t, given what your friend is saying,” he noted and you closed your eyes in defeat.

Steve’s voice was quiet, for you only, but it wasn’t news the Devil had extraordinary hearing. You couldn’t quite blame him for not liking you coming alone and not alone at all. You reached to your ear, turning your communicator off.

Daredevil tilted his head, seemingly confused.

“You think they don’t see that?” you corrected yourself, letting out the doubts you had despite the warm (ha) welcome the Avengers gave you. “You’re needed here. What you do matters, which is why they are letting you.”

“Why are you saying ‘them’?”

“Do I look like an Avenger to you?”

“You sure call yourself that.”

“Well, I don’t feel like one. But I let them talk me down. I’m a destroyer, yet, they convinced me I can help. And maybe I found a calling. Maybe I found a way to possibly redeem myself,” you whispered, being sure the Devil would hear you. He heard everything.

“I am answering a calling. By doing what I do,” he replied, aiming for firm, but failing. Could he tell the emotion behind your voice, the way you opened unexpectedly (to your own surprise too)? Could he hear the regret? Did he imagine what had caused it? Did it move him?

“And I understand that. Actually, kudos for aiming for achievable goal of managing ten blocks of Manhattan and not letting your ego get in the way too much. I mean, these guys are trying to save the world, talk about unrealistic goals,” you noted, lightening up the mood a little.

You imagined the man behind the mask frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m confused now. Are you still trying to get me to join, or…?”

You chuckled. “Doesn’t look like it, huh? I guess that’s fair.”

The corner of his lips quirked in an approximation of a smile. Your heart skipped a beat. You bet neither of your Avenging friends managed to do that. Not that this was a competition or a manipulation – you were being completely honest. Painfully so.

“I… I’m gonna be honest with you. Steve wants you on this one. And frankly, I have no idea why-“ you paused, realizing how it sounded. “I mean— I know why, we can always use some help saving the world and stuff, but... yeah. So just once for now, let’s team up. No strings attached.”

“That was quite a direct strike. Didn’t see that coming,” he chuckled and you blinked, your eyelashes brushing your eye-mask.

Did he just chuckle? Did he laugh at you? Not that he didn’t have the right, but it was still a bit incredible. His face returned to the mask of seriousness. For some reason, it seemed softer now. “It was… Steve, wasn’t it? You say they convinced you, but you mean Steve Rogers.”

You escaped his gaze – or you thought so. Escaped the way the glassy eye-covers of his helmet burned through you. Whatever.

“Yes,” you whispered. He didn’t comment on that. But you would swear he relaxed.

“How did you get your powers?”

You froze almost literally at the direct question. Well, he sure wasn’t beating around the bush. What was it to him? Was it a test? Did he want to know you before saying no? Was he considering a yes? Did he trust you?

You licked your lips, fighting a shiver.

“Untested treatment. I had a rare liver disease and they tested a treatment with some chitauri crap on me. I always had troubles with thermoregulation. The meds messed it up on a completely different level.”

“I’m sorry.” And he genuinely sounded as if he was, his voice dropping.

“I didn’t ask for this. I hurt people. I’m paying my debt, because I think it’s the only thing I can do apart from creating icicles and toboggans for kids and do some cold-drying of fruit for missions,” you said seriously and his shoulders slightly shook with laughter. You found yourself smiling too. Dammit, how did you switch from misery to joking so fast in one sentence?

“No strings attached?” he asked slowly and your mouth literally fell open. Did he just-

“Did you just-?”

“Yeah. How bad it can be? Plus, your friend is approaching with the jet, I guess he didn’t like you turning your comms off.”

“Oh I’m gonna be on detention for like a week, okay. Or until they need another cold-drying, Tony’s addicted to his dried blueberries.”

The Devil chuckled once more before a cute smile settled on his lips. He took several steps closer to you. “I’m sure they’re delicious.”

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Part 2

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Tags:  @murdermornings​ @mermaidxatxheart​

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Heya, people :) I decided to share one of my older fics with the tumblr, I hope a few of you will like it O:-) Whenever you want to be (un)tagged in anything of mine, shoot me an ask or a message or something like that. 

Thank you for reading :-*

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter One:  Rich Broads are the Worst

Summary:

Francisco Mendoza wasn’t always a household name on the streets of New York City (particularly around the powerful families that run the underground).  Even he had to get his start somewhere.  And all it took was a good mentor, a snap decision, and the love of a good woman.

Rating:

T+ for language/violence

A/N:  Hi, friends.  Well, here we are.  Chapter one.  For those of you who don’t know, this is a prequel to the Switch series available on Ao3.  Take it at face value as an original.  Take it as a prequel.  Either way, I hope you enjoy.  And your feedback is always appreciated.  This is going to go up every Monday at noon US central time.  So, are we ready?  Because I’m ready.  I’ve been sitting on this since November.�� I can’t fucking wait.

Prayer has always been called the last act of a desperate man.  Mama would beat the shit out of me for saying this, but sometimes, that desperate man reaches desperate lows not even prayer can fix. My deliverance was not an easy one, nor was it pretty.  I’m not even sure if God had anything to do with it.  But whoever put me in the path of the Old Man that night was looking out for me.  That’s for damn sure.

  Every night was the same.  Go to work, come home, lock the door, and put Mama at ease.  Between her and my brothers, that was all I had left in this world.  Papa died before I got the chance to know him.  But he knew me.  According to Mama he played favorites with my brothers and me.  She always said he saw the special in me before I even knew it was there.  As we grew up, that became more apparent with my brothers.  Tony and César may both be older than me, but they knew the pecking order in this house.  And they knew who was on top.

 And because their baby brother, their hermanito, put in a good word for them, we all managed to score jobs at the same restaurant.  Although, that commute from Williamsburg to Midtown was its own private hell.  Damn near half an hour on the subway on a good day.  But it kept food on the table and a roof over our heads and Mama taken care of, so none of us were complaining.  But one night…Normally, work didn’t get to me, but…The customer isn’t always right.

 Working at a ritzy Italian restaurant in the heart of Midtown occasionally had its perks. People with deep pockets leaving nice tips…or assholes with deeper pockets who are out to make my job a living hell.  And no one was worse than this one couple on their twenty-fifth anniversary.  It wasn’t necessarily him that was the problem. This guy had the integrity of a wet noodle.  And I had a feeling it was partially because of his…Lovely…wife.

 “Excuse me!” she whistled for me like a fucking dog.  If she would’ve called me boy, I would’ve choked her out.  I don’t have it in me to ever hit a woman, but she pushed all the right buttons.

 But still, I slapped on a fake smile and went over to their table, “Yes, ma’am.  How may I help you?”

 “I know the label on the bottle says 1979,” she told me, her voice just dripping with condescension, “But this tastes like a 1974 Shiraz.”

 “I can assure you, ma’am,” I swore, “This is a 1979 Shiraz.”

 “You say it’s a 1979,” she started to get heated, “But it’s clearly got notes characteristic of a 1974.”

 I kept my head, “It is a 1979, ma’am.  If you’d like, I could bring you something else.”

 “No,” she rolled her eyes, “We ordered a 1979 Shiraz.  I’d like a new bottle.”

 “Yes, ma’am,” I nodded, taking the original bottle away.  Once I got back to the kitchen, I took a good swig from the bottle in question.  It’s fucking wine.  It tasted like Shiraz.  Personally, I thought it was disgusting, but I digress.  Was there really that big of a difference?

 “Frankie?” Tony put a hand on my shoulder, “You alright?  You look like you want to stab someone.”

 “Just feeling thirsty,” I choked down another drink, “Pretentious woman at table twelve trying to tell me she can taste five years difference and we got our labels wrong. I don’t want to call her a bitch, but fuck, she’s making it difficult.”

 “That’s why I stay back here,” Tony jabbed, “I don’t see how you do it, Frankie. Having to deal with stuck up pricks like that day in and day out.  Either you have intestinal fortitude of steel or you’re a fucking masochist.”

 “I couldn’t be back here,” I sighed out, heading into the wine fridge, “It’s too secluded.  I need my fingers on a pulse or I get cranky.”  

 “They look down on guys like us,” he followed me, “They probably have no idea what it’s like to struggle.”

 “Probably not,” I grabbed another bottle of Shiraz, “But it’s that money that keeps us from going hungry, so we’ll be able to get out of here.  Hopefully, it won’t be for much longer.”

 “God, I hope not,” Tony took the bottle off the tray and threw a drink back, having the same reaction to it I did, “How in the hell do people drink this shit?”

 “I don’t know,” I felt for him, “Maybe the stick in the ass adds a different flavor profile that broke fuckers like us won’t understand.”

 “Because we’re too sophisticated?”

 “Because we have taste in our booze,” I gave him a nod, “Pray for me.  I have to go back into hell and look into the eyes of pure evil.”

 “Good luck, Frankie,” Tony sent me back out.

 I could do this.  I’ve dealt with people like her before.  This should be a piece of cake.  I brought their wine to their table, “I’m sorry, ma’am.  Hopefully, this one will be better for you.”

 “It’s about time.”

 I fiddled with the cross around my neck out of nervous habit, “If you need anything else, please let me know.”

 “Yes,” she dismissed me, leaning toward her husband, “I hope he doesn’t think we’re paying for that swill.”

 Santa Maria, Madre de Dios.  Ruega por nosotros pecadores.  Ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerté.  Amén.

 Alright. I can do this now.  She will be paying for it, but the spit about to go in her food is totally on the house.  I wanted to.  Fuck, did I want to.  Instead, I took the high road and went on break.  César followed me out, “Tu bien, hermanito?”

 “I can’t fucking do this anymore, César,” I held my head in my hands, “I’m sick of it.”

 “We all are, Frankie,” César threw an arm around me, “But what else are we supposed to do?”

 “Anything else,” I sighed out, “I’m just…fucking done.  I’m sick of being looked down on.  Not just here, but anywhere we go.  Mama always told us she moved us here after Papi died to give us a better life, right?”

 “Right.”

 “Where is the better life, César?” I wondered, “Because I look around and I’m not seeing it.”

 “We’ll get there some day, Frankie,” he swore, “But for now, we deal with this bullshit.”

 “And it’s bullshit we have to deal with it.”

 “Amen.”

 I’d make a deal with Satan himself at this point to get the fuck out of this.  I was so young, so naïve in those days.  When I had myself together again, I walked back inside.  If I can get out of this shift without killing anyone, I’ll be so proud.  One of the hostesses gave me a poke to the shoulder and sent me to a different table.  Thank God.  I’ve never needed a change of scenery so bad.  I know I’m going to have to go back to them eventually, but right now, I needed something easy.  Please be an easy table.  Please don’t be an asshole.

 A big guy sat at the table all by himself with a small notebook on the table and some mindless doodles.  All things being equal, they weren’t bad.  But I wasn’t there to admire the artwork.  As long as I don’t come across as pissed off, I’ll be alright, “Can I help you, sir?”

 “I’m meeting someone here,” he told me.  Then, he looked up from his notebook, “But I’m thinking I’m getting stood up.  You alright, kid?”

 “Fine, sir,” I suppressed it more, “It’s just been a long, busy night.  What can I get for…”

 “When do you get off?” he asked, looking me over, “I’m thinking my contact isn’t coming and you look like you could use a drink.”

 “I’d rather not have one here,” I admitted, “But I get off at eleven.”

 “Alright,” he gave me a nod, “Brandy and peach tea, if it’s not too much trouble.”

 “I’ll be right back,” I promised, going to the bar.  Something about this guy gave me a good vibe.  Then again, he already wanted to buy me booze, so I wasn’t going to say no.  I flagged down the bartender and asked for his drink.  The bartender’s face lost any and all pigment it may have had. Reluctantly, he mixed the drink and handed it off to me.  I didn’t know what the hell that was all about, but I didn’t care.  As promised, I brought the man his drink, “Here you are, sir.”

 “Thank you,” he smiled a bit, “What’s your name, kid?”

 “Francisco,” I told him, “But people call me Frankie.”

 “You’re kind of stocky,” he pointed out, “You know that?”

 “According to mi mama,” I explained, “That came from my dad.”

 “And you?” he wondered, “Would you say that, too?”

 “I never met the man,” I shrugged, “I mean, I probably did meet him at one point, but he died when I was two, so I don’t really have much memory of him.”

 “Oh…” the man’s face fell, “I’m sorry to hear that.  I know the feeling, though.  Mine took off.  But we’re not here to swap sob stories.  Hey, I’m going to stick around for a while.  When you get off, meet me out front, K?”

 I had never seen this guy a day in my life, but something about him…It felt like I knew him.  Like we’ve met before, but I didn’t remember.  But I knew for a fact this was the first time we ever met.  Little did I know, that chance meeting would turn my whole world on its head.  We’ll save that part for later, though.  When I walked back into the kitchen, I needed to find one of my brothers.  Lucky for me, the first one I found was César.

 “Hey, César,” I stopped him.

 “Hi, Frankie,” César looked at me strange, “Everything ok?”

 “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I settled him, “No worries.  But I’m going to be a little late going home.  I’ll catch up with you guys somewhere.”

 “Where are you going?” he wondered.

 “I got asked for drinks after work,” I brushed him off, “The guy at table six. He told me he wanted to buy me a drink and you and I both know better than to turn down free booze.”

 “I know,” César nodded, “But don’t think you’re going by yourself.  If three of us leave the house and only two come back, Mama would have our asses and you know it.”

 “I’ll take the heat for that,” I assured him, “But I got a good feeling about him.  And I don’t know about you, but I could really use the drink.”

 “We’re not letting you go by yourself, Frankie.” Dammit, César…The oldest always figures he needs to protect the younger two, doesn’t he?  I could tell this wasn’t going to be a negotiation, “Hey, Tony!”

 “Que?” Tony perked up, wiping his last dish for the night.

 “Drinks after work tonight?” César offered.

 “You buying?” Tony wiped his hands off and tossed his towel aside.

 “Apparently, Frankie is.” I’m going to kill you, César, “There’s a guy out there wanting to take him for drinks and God forbid we let him go on his own.  Or go home without him.”

 “Mama would fucking kill us.” If I don’t get to both of you first.

 “Hold on, pendejos!” I stopped them both before they could cook up something else, “Let me talk to him first and make sure it’s alright.”

 “If he says no, Frankie,” César demanded, “You’re not going either.”

 “My ass, I’m not,” I stood my ground, “You seem to think so.”

 “I’m serious.”

 “And I’m thirsty,” I argued, checking the clock.  Just a few minutes more.  I pushed my way out the doors and found the guy again, “Hey…”

 “Hi,” he nudged a seat out for me, “Go ahead.  Take a seat, kid.”

 “I was actually about to ask you about that,” I began, “There are a couple guys in the back wanting in on this drink.  And if I go home without them, the lovely lady we live with is going to have our heads. Would that be a problem?”

 “Sounds like a real Three’s Company situation you got,” he jabbed.

 “Not exactly,” I came clean, “They’re my older brothers.  If they come home without me, my mother will beat them senseless with her shoe.”

 “You never said you had brothers.”

 “You never asked.”

 The man kept to himself for a brief minute, “Are they anything like you?”

 “I’m the smart one of the bunch,” I explained, “My brother Tony is muscle. My brother César is a master with his words.  Why do you ask?”

 “Just curious,” he dropped it, “Yeah.  They can come, too.  The more the merrier, right?”

 “I guess so,” I could breathe a little easier.  I got my brothers off my back and I still get my drink with…Wait a second, “You haven’t even told me your name and you’re already taken me for drinks? I’m a little classier than that.”

 “You never asked,” he threw my words back at me, “Gregorio.  But mostly everyone that works for me just calls me the Old Man.”

[chalantness]

fic: Here, On the Edge of Hell (4/6)

Rating: M Word Count: ~13,400 (part four) Characters: Steve/Natasha Summary: mafia au. She knows her father hadn’t been lying when he said that Uncle Howard wanted her to keep an eye on Steve, but if this was simply about protection, he wouldn’t have put her on the line at all. Especially not with all of the heat Steve Rogers is getting from the other Families, which means that her uncle has another reason for Natasha to be involved.

He just won’t tell her what it is. 

Read On: [ ao3 ]

A/N: I'M SORRY THIS TOOK THREE WEEKS TO POST! There are about a dozen reasons why it got delayed but none of them are all that compelling or dramatic, but here it is now and I hope it's at least half-worth the long wait? Also, for those who didn't catch my progress updates, I'm going to keep the chapter count at 6 and these last chapters (this one included) will be longer.

“I know you aren’t nearly as chatty as Tony or Peter, but I’m starting to feel offended by how quiet you’ve been today.”

Natasha turns to find her Aunt Maria watching her, her eyes glinting as she sets a fork back down on the table arranged with plate settings. To her credit, the woman hadn’t acted the least bit surprised when Natasha asked if she needed help planning next month’s Stark Industries gala, even though Natasha had never shown much interest in her aunt’s role as an event planner before. And yes, her aunt could’ve had someone take over for her decades ago, but the woman loves it too much to give it up anytime soon.

Natasha gives a small smile and a shrug that she knows her aunt will take as an apology, and the woman exhales a laugh. “You think I would’ve learned by now that waiting for you Starks to offer up your problems is a lost cause,” Aunt Maria comments dryly.

“You’re a Stark, too, you know,” Natasha points out.

“By marriage, darling. I don’t have the same stubborn gene as the rest of you, no matter how much your uncle and cousin like to claim otherwise.” Natasha’s smile widens as she shakes her head, and her aunt comes to stand in front of her, reaching up to brush a few stray strands of Natasha’s hair behind her ear. “If you were my son, I’d have to ask thirty questions before he ran out of witty remarks and finally confessed,” she adds, “but my much more sensible niece wouldn’t put me through that game, would she?”

“No, she’ll just keep her confessions to herself,” Natasha retorts, though her voice doesn’t sound as nonchalant as she’d intended.

She knows that her aunt notices it as well because her eyes twinkle. “Does this have anything to do with you spending all of your time with Steve Rogers these days?”

Despite herself, Natasha breathes out a laugh. She’s not particularly surprised that her aunt latches onto this of all things, but she’ll admit that it’s a nice change in pace from having to talk about “Sarah Rogers” or theories on who the hell drove a car through the front of the club.

“Does that seem like something your niece would ever be distracted with?” Natasha asks.

Aunt Maria shrugs as she admits, “I didn’t think you could be distracted at all. Even as a toddler, you were so focused. It was a little unsettling for your parents.”

This makes Natasha pause. “They’ve never told me that.”

“Most children don’t know much about their parents in that sense,” her aunt points out as she perches herself on one of the many sample chairs artfully draped in chiffon and ribbons, patting the seat beside hers for Natasha to follow. “We tell you fun stories and we tell you about what you were like growing up, but we don’t necessarily tell you all the little things we had to learn, or how worried we were every hour of the day. Your parents were much better at hiding it than Howard and I, but they were no exception.”

Natasha exhales a chuckle. “Honestly, it’s hard to picture my parents with a child at all, even if that child was me.”

It’s not the first time the thought has crossed her mind, though she’ll admit she doesn’t really know where the sentiment comes from. She’s never once felt as if her parents regret having her, or would choose any differently if they could. She knows they love her and she’s never once doubted that. Seeing her mother in that photo with Joseph Rogers had been shocking, but it also felt a little bit like something had finally clicked into place. At least now she understood why something always felt off about their story.

It wasn’t something that was brought up much to begin with, but considering the circumstance as to why, Natasha hadn’t felt it was suspicious. The only reason her father and Uncle Howard had gone to Europe to begin with had been because her aunt and uncle were having problems with their marriage, though they’d never shared what the fighting had been about, nor had they really shared why the brothers had stayed on another continent for an entire year before Uncle Howard came back to sort things out with Aunt Maria. All Natasha knows is that her parents had met early into this trip and had Natasha overseas, and they’d gotten married only days after her father brought her mother back to the States with him. Natasha and Tony had always found the whole story odd, but they didn’t have any real reason not to believe what their parents told them, either.

“It was certainly a surprise when your father came home with you and your mother,” Aunt Maria says, and Natasha turns just in time to catch something flicker in her aunt’s eyes—amusement, maybe, though it’d been far too quick to tell. “He’s never been impulsive.”

“Neither has Mom,” Natasha points out. “And yet, she met Dad, had me, and moved to an entirely different country within the same year.”

“Your uncle likes to take credit for having that one influence over your father in that sense.” Her aunt smooths a hand over Natasha’s hair, her smile softening. “I know it seems like that year is something we want to forget, but without your uncle and your father taking that trip, we wouldn’t have you. I wouldn’t want things to be any different.”

Natasha gives her a small grin. “That’s because you and Uncle Howard like to pretend that I’m your daughter,” she teases, tilting her head as she adds, “though Uncle Howard definitely fusses over me as if that were true. Maybe even more so than my actual father.”

There’s a pause before Aunt Maria asks, “Does that bother you?”

Natasha shakes her head. “He’s been that way my entire life, Aunt Maria. If it bothered me, I would’ve said something by now.”

“But something is bothering you?” her aunt asks, and Natasha almost smiles at the tone of her voice. It’s one that she’s heard Aunt Maria use with Tony all his life; one that says she already knows the answer is yes and is expecting an explanation instead.

Natasha hesitates. She knows that Aunt Maria is willing to keep a secret for her if she asks, but her aunt would draw the line at staying quiet about Natasha potentially having a stalker, especially after what happened at the club. Honestly, Natasha is very well aware the two could be related, and then there’s also the possibility that “Sarah Rogers” may be tied to everything as well, but she’d rather have more to go off of before worrying the family. As soon as they know, they’ll be even less willing to let her out of their sight, and she’ll need as much time without one of them hovering over her shoulder as she can manage to find so she and Steve can look into her their parents’ connection.

And no, she doesn’t even consider asking about that, either. She’s almost certain that her aunt and uncle have already known about it, and if they’ve all been intent on keeping quiet about it, Natasha knows that her aunt will tell her parents as soon as she suspects Natasha may have found something out.

Still, there’s one thing her aunt may be willing to keep a secret; and if not, Natasha won’t mind if her uncle hears about it.

“I still find it a little odd that Uncle Howard would ask me to look after Steve,” Natasha admits with a slight shake of her head, because yes, that is still something that crosses her mind despite everything else she has going on. Or maybe even because of all of it. “I know that he and Joseph are close and that’s a big part of why he asked me to reach out, but he’s always been a little overprotective of me, too. I guess I still find it strange that he’d want me around Steve when he knew there would be a lot of heat on him.”

Aunt Maria gives her a little grin that almost looks amused. “If anything, I think you might have been safest with Steve. His two friends are cops, aren’t they?”

“Yes, but Uncle Howard has never trusted cops,” Natasha points out.

“And yet he’s relieved that Steve’s friends have been there for Wanda ever since that drive-by,” her aunt says, and Natasha feels herself pause, surprised. “Joseph Rogers is someone very few would dare to threaten and he’s still missing,” Aunt Maria reminds gently. “Things are changing, darling. Your uncle just wants to keep you safe.”

Natasha holds her aunt’s stare, feeling her chest tighten ever so slightly. “Because I’m in danger?”

Aunt Maria hums, giving Natasha’s shoulder a squeeze. “Because he loves you,” she answers simply as she stands, turning away. And Natasha knows that, at least for now, that’s all her aunt is willing to share.

... ...

Steve is more than used to watching his sister flit around his kitchen, but seeing his best friend standing beside her, barely fighting off a smile as Wanda walks him through a recipe for vinaigrette dressing, is certainly a sight Steve couldn’t have anticipated a week ago. Before seeing it for himself, though, Steve knew that the two of them would’ve gotten close. He knows his sister, and he knows there’s no way Wanda would’ve let Bucky and Sam watch over her without wanting to form a genuine friendship with them.

Although, it’s starting to become clear that Bucky and Wanda are far more comfortable with each other than Steve first thought.

“You keep making faces like that and those lines will stay that way,” a voice teases, pulling a grin from his lips as he turns to look at Natasha perched on the barstool beside his. Her eyes are twinkling, her cheeks flushed from the almost empty glass of prosecco in her hand and her hair a little wild from being let out of the braid she’d had it in.

Beautiful.

It was the first thought to cross his mind the moment he saw her, and it’s the same thought that’s lingered in his head ever since. Sometimes it still catches him off guard, just how stunning Natasha is. Yes, part of it is because she’s almost always put together, but even then, that doesn’t mean much. She was still every bit as beautiful when he saw her first thing in the morning after she’d spent the night, sweetly rumpled and a little disheveled in Wanda’s pajamas; just as she was every bit as beautiful when he bumped into her and Maria on their morning run, her hair wild and windblown and her skin flushed from the exertion. He knows Natasha puts on appearances in the same way they all need to most of the time, and Natasha can definitely be a lot harder to read when she wants to. Still, Steve knows that most of her beauty is because she’s effortlessly herself.

She laughs at her own jokes, and runs around with the kids during parties, and doesn’t give a damn about polishing off two cocktails before they’ve even ordered dinner.

He doesn’t think he’s seen every part of her just yet, but he’s pretty sure he’s seen most, just as he’s pretty sure he’s seen a hell of a lot more than she’s ever show someone who wasn’t her family.

He knows that when she lets him see every last part of her, he’ll be a goner. He’s more than halfway there, anyway.

“I’m not making faces,” he retorts, feeling his grin widen ever so slightly.

She arches an eyebrow, pressing her lips together and not quite trying to fight off a grin of her own. “Really?” Her voice is soft as she tips her wine glass to point at Bucky and Wanda, the two of them too distracted by each other to notice him and Nat. “So that doesn’t make you uncomfortable? Your best friend and your little sister?”

“If anyone would be good enough for my little sister, it would be my best friend,” he retorts.

“He watches her very carefully.” Her green eyes are bright and glinting playfully, almost giddily. Fucking beautiful. Even in his own thoughts, he’s breathless. “I’m sure they spend a lot of quality time together.”

“Nat,” he says, though it’s nowhere near a warning.

“Everyone falls for their bodyguard.”

“Nat.” He laughs as he shakes his head, something warm humming in his veins.

Natasha sits up straighter, taking a nonchalant sip of her wine, but the amusement just under her playfully composed expression gives her away. “Still not uncomfortable?”

He lets his eyes fall to her lips, and unlike every other time when he’d stolen a glance, he lets his gaze lingers. They part ever so slightly, and he can practically hear the soft, quick way she inhales. He knows she’s holding her breath, just like him, even though nothing about her body so much as shifts an inch to give it away. “Not exactly the word I’d use,” he murmurs, his voice coming out rough, even to his own ears, and he lets his gaze slide back up to her eyes. He can practically count every one of her eyelashes.

And then the doorbell rings.

For a fleeting moment, he Steve a genuine look of annoyance tug at Natasha’s expression, and his grin turns wry as he slides off of the stool. “Got it,” he announces to Bucky and Wanda, his gaze lingering on Natasha as she takes a gulp of her wine. He nearly chuckles as he shakes his head, walking out of the kitchen.

He’d known that Wanda and Bucky invited Sam to dinner, so Steve isn’t surprised to see him.

He’s a little more surprised to see Maria, though.

“Fine,” Maria says, her voice sounding almost resigned even as genuine amusement flickers in her expression as Sam turns to smirk at her. “We should’ve recorded his face.”

Despite his confusion, Steve chuckles. “Good to see you, too, Hill.” Maria only hums in response, but her grin widens, her eyes bright and almost playful as she glances back at Sam—and, really, Steve shouldn’t expect any less at this point. He gestures between the two of them as he asks, “Did you need a bodyguard, too?”

“He asked, but he couldn’t afford me,” Maria quips dryly, stepping inside, and she gives Steve’s forearm a quick squeeze in greeting as she passes him.

Sam steps in, too, his gaze lingering on Maria as Steve shuts the front door before turning to him, his mouth hitched at one corner. “We bumped into each other when I was leaving a witness’s place,” he explains, and though Steve knows that the spark in his best friend’s eyes is certainly nothing new whenever he talks about Maria Hill—admiration only thinly-veiled with annoyance—the amused smirk on his lips is definitely a first. Steve has always known there more to the way Maria had gotten under Sam’s skin over the years, that it wasn’t just a detective annoyed by the thorough efforts of a private investigator and her uncanny knack for constantly crossing his path both on and off duty.

He never really anticipated that Sam would ever act on it, though. Every cop in the city knows who the Families are, and Sam would’ve never risked a job he loved so much for a woman that came from the world the police is trying to shut down.

But that world is now Steve’s world, too, and that made a difference to Sam. That gave him a reason to look closer, or maybe it gave him a reason to finally make a move.

Steve knows the feeling.

His grin widens as he comes up next to Sam, patting his shoulder, and, because his best friend can read the amusement in Steve’s expression, Sam shakes his head. “It’s just dinner,” he says. Steve’s grin shifts into a smirk and Sam breathes out a chuckle. “Oh, it’s like that now?”

“It’s like that now,” Steve replies with a chuckle of his own, letting his hand drop as they both head into the kitchen.

Maria is sitting in the barstool beside Nat that he’d just occupied, a glass of wine already in hand, and Natasha glances over her shoulder as he and Sam join them at the kitchen island. He doesn’t know quite what compels him to come up right behind her, but he does, letting his hands find the curve of her hips, and she lets him pull her back just a little so that she’s resting against his chest. She’d refilled her own wine, too, and she takes a sip from it, glancing up at him as her tongue sweeps over her lower lip.

“Uncomfortable?” she mouths, and he gives her a gentle squeeze that makes her laugh softly against the rim of her glass.

“Where’s your other half?” Sam asks Wanda, and Steve catches the way his sister hesitates for less than a second, almost glances over her shoulder at Bucky.

“Working,” Wanda replies, angling a teasingly sly sort of smile at Sam, and there’s not an ounce of apprehension or wariness from Sam as he nods. Her eyes sparkle as she uses the wooden spoon that she’d been mixing the salad with to gesture between him and Maria, asking, “When did this become a thing?”

Steve half-expects Maria to reply with a denial of some sort, but instead, she answers almost nonchalantly, “We’ve been teaming up on a few things.”

“Figured we’d have all our bases covered between the two of us, illegal or otherwise,” Sam adds, his expression turning a little wry at the corners. “We’re looking into who might’ve been following you the day of the drive-by,” he explains, and then, turning to Natasha, he adds, “and who’s been sending those pictures of you.”

Steve pauses, feeling Natasha sit up just a little straighter against his chest. “Pictures?” Steve asks, tilting his head to look at Nat. “What pictures?”

Something too quick to catch passes through Natasha’s expression as she looks up at him and it makes his chest tighten, hard.

Instead of Natasha, though, it’s Wanda who speaks up next, drawing everyone’s attention on her, and that pressure on Steve’s lungs seems to compound as he sees his sister’s entire body stiff with tension. “You got one, too?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper as Bucky cups a hand over the back of her neck, giving a comforting sort of squeeze as his thumb rubs over her pulse. Wanda eases, but only a little, and when Steve glances at Sam and Maria, neither of them looks as surprised as Steve feels.

“When did you get yours?” Maria questions.

Steve is seconds away from asking why the hell he seems to be the only one that doesn’t know what’s going on, but then Wanda is pulling her phone out of her apron pocket and swiping at the screen before setting it faced up on the island and sliding it over. A picture of Natasha is on the screen, sent from a blocked number last night.

It’s taken from a distance and at an angle, and it’s pretty damn obvious that Natasha wasn’t aware of a camera being pointed at her.

That low, warm hum in his veins has turned to a frantic sort of buzz, and he can his every muscle going taut. “What is this?” he asks, so low that he half-wonders if anyone other than Natasha had been able to hear him, and something akin to guilt flickers in Natasha’s eyes.

Fuck. Fuck.

He flexes his fingers at her hips because he’s dangerously close to squeezing too tight. He doesn’t think he’s capable of feeling any more tense than he already is, but then Maria says, “Someone has been watching Nat for the last few days and I’m almost certain it has something to do with the ‘Sarah Rogers’ from the coffeehouse.”

The complete surprise he feels is mirrored in Natasha’s expression as she nearly slams the wine glass down, head snapping around to stare at Maria. It’s clear that the latter had been news to her, too, and she almost starts to ask a question when Steve yanks his hands from her hips. She whirls back around to face him, and the fleeting look of hurt that flashes in her eyes is what stops him from taking a step back from her. She’s upset and it kills him, but at the same time, he’s pissed. He knows Natasha can be a bit secretive, and he knows she’s used to doing things on her own most of the time. He’s not pissed that she might have needed a day or two to process whatever the hell this is.

But Maria said it’d been days, and she’d clearly been in on it, too. Even if Natasha didn’t know Maria hadn’t also involved Sam, she still kept it from Steve.

He’s seen her every day for almost a week and she never told him any of this. Not even a hint.

And if that in itself wasn’t enough of a reason to be pissed, there’s also the fact that Maria is tossing his mother’s name into the same conversation as someone who’s been watching Natasha.

He stares down at her, fingers twitching at his sides. Oddly enough, he hands to touch her again, wants his hands back on her hips and wants her pulled right against his chest. And no, he’s not so pissed at her as he is at the situation at hand. Someone is following her and she didn’t tell him.

She doesn’t need his protection, but she also knows that he’d give it to her without question or hesitation. She already has it, has him, in the palm of her hand.

“I wanted to be certain first,” Natasha tells him, facing him completely, and even though everyone else is only a foot or two away from them, all he sees is Natasha.

“Sounds like this is the first you’re hearing Maria’s theory, so try again,” he counters.

She narrows her eyes ever so slightly. “Don’t be patronizing,” Natasha warns, the first flickers of her own anger simmering in her expression at his tone. “I wasn’t going to throw around your mother’s name over something that could have very well been a coincidence.”

“You don’t believe in coincidences,” he argues, hands sliding over her hips again, rubbing his thumbs into her skin as if attempting to ease the climbing tension in her body even though he’s the damn reason for it, just as she’s the reason for his. He feels as if he’s trembling, he’s so pissed. But she doesn’t flinch away from his touch, not once.

“I was being careful,” Natasha insists. “I noticed the name on a receipt by pure chance, and we only just found something that could be a lead. I was handling it first.”

“Like you’re handling your mother?” Steve fires back, and he watches her inhale sharply. He hates that he’s the reason for it, but he has to know. “Would you have told me about that if you’d found out on your own, just because my dad is missing? You’d still risk being around your mother, knowing she was lying, without telling me anything?”

Her voice trembles ever so slightly. “She’s my mother.”

“Exactly.” His gives her another gentle squeeze. “It would’ve surprised me, and yeah, it probably would’ve upset me. But I’d want to know, no matter what. Even if it was the most illogical, inconceivable fucking theory ever, I would’ve wanted to know. I would’ve trusted you and what you had to say about it, even if you thought you were wrong.”

Natasha swallows lightly, lips parting, but the chime of phone cuts off whatever she’d been about to say, the sound almost jarring in the tense quiet of the kitchen.

Steve almost considers not looking at all, but his eyes flit over to Wanda’s phone on the counter, still close enough to read the text message from Clint—and, when his entire body goes stiff and cold, he’s vaguely aware of Natasha reaching up to touch his cheek as he reads the words over and over and over again in his head.

Ambushed. Pietro got hit. Get here now.

... ...

Ironically enough, Natasha has never spent much time in hospitals. No one in the Family does, or they try their damn hardest not to.

She goes a few times a year for check-ins here or there, just like anyone else would, but anything serious – anything that could lead to too many questions and to the cops possibly being tipped off – are handled discreetly. The Families have their own doctors that they pay a pretty penny to make sure they make themselves available as needed, and the Families provided all the equipment and supplies they’d need, too—so the fact that Pietro was rushed straight to the ER means that it looked serious enough that Clint wasn’t taking any chances or wasting any time. The silver lining is that, because the Families are so infamous in this city, the staff didn’t hesitate to make Pietro their priority.

The hospital also ushered them into a separate corner of the ER to wait, and though it isn’t exactly a private room, it’s as close as they can get. Natasha doubts it would’ve bothered Steve at all if they had to wait with everyone else, and it’s probably for the hospital’s benefit, too, to keep them being here as quiet as possible. Still, Steve manages a small smile to the nurse that offers the space to them and thanks her after she promises to personally check in with them every half hour and give them updates on Pietro.

“He took a shot aimed at me,” Clint had explained when they first got to the ER. “One of our guys was just a second too late with disarming him.”

Clint hasn’t said a word since, other than when he’d stepped aside to take a quick phone call from Laura, but Natasha hadn’t anticipated any differently. The noises of the hospital filter in, but otherwise, the only thing to fill the quiet of the room is Wanda’s occasional whimper or shuddering inhale. She hadn’t even wanted to sit down at first, but at the first sway in her steps, Bucky had pulled her onto his lap and kept a gentle but firm grip on her when she tried to stand back up, and her resolve crumbled in seconds.

Steve, however, has yet to sit down. He’s stayed standing right next to Natasha’s chair in the corner, his body taut, though not in the same way it’d been when they were arguing in his kitchen just hours ago. Then, she could feel the frustration just under skin, threatening to burst.

Now, though, he’s almost entirely still, his body facing the door and his arms crossed over his chest as he leans one shoulder against the wall. She’d only attempted to get him to sit once with a gentle tug on his forearm, but when he’d given her the ghosts of a smile and the barest shake of his head, she knew to let him be. He wants to be alert, and with his gaze always aimed toward the door, he’d been in front of the nurse within seconds of her walking into the room in the handful of times she’s checked with them so far.

He almost does so right now, though this time, it’s Maria that steps into the room. She and Sam had stayed to clean up the kitchen while the rest of them went to the ER, and after that, she’d texted Nat to let her know that the two of them were heading to the scene so Sam could talk to the officers that responded to the shooting. The only other thing that Sam learned was that an Asgard car was seen nearby, driving away as the officers headed there, though it couldn’t be determined just yet if that was a coincidence.

It’s almost ridiculous to consider that idea, but that conversation can wait for now.

Natasha stands as Steve leans off of the wall, his hand curving over her hip and drawing her close, and, despite everything, Natasha almost smiles. Their argument from earlier is far from being resolved and they both know it, yet he doesn’t hesitate to seek her presence, to need her comfort.

“We’ve got every eye in the city squeezing out the shooters, and Sam’s got every cop in Manhattan on the lookout, too,” Maria informs as she comes to stand beside them. She glances at Wanda, her expression softening as she adds, “and the Families are on their way,” and Wanda nods once, turning to press her face into Bucky’s shoulder as she burrows herself against him as close as physically possible. Bucky wraps his arms around her again, tucking her head under his chin as he murmurs something into her hair.

Wanda has always been far softer than the rest of them, but she’s still her father’s daughter. She was still born and raised in the Family, and just because she always has a sweet smile on her lips doesn’t make her any weaker or less dangerous. Honestly, Natasha is pretty damn sure she’s the strongest of them all.

Seeing her this shaken up is more than just unsettling, and the fact that the Families are getting together to be here for Pietro is no small thing, either.

Steve nods once, pulling his phone from his pocket to check the screen. “Seems like they’re already starting to arrive,” he says, showing a text from Nick, and he gives Natasha’s hip a gentle squeeze. “I’ll meet them outside. I should get some air, anyway.”

Natasha peers up at him. “Do you want some company?”

He gives her the softest sort of smile. “Yes,” he admits quietly, but he’s also shaking his head, leaning in to whisper, “but can you stay here?” His eyes flicker to Wanda for a moment, his careful, collected expression cracking at the edges, and Natasha knows what he’s really asking. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Bucky or Clint or even Maria to be there for his sister, but if he has to leave her side, even if only for a few minutes, he’d prefer Natasha stay behind in his place, to know to comfort Wanda the way he would.

“Of course,” she tells him, and she feels his lips curve against her skin, his smile growing just a fraction as he brushes a kiss to her cheek.

Then he steps away, giving Maria’s arm a gentle squeeze as he passes her, and Maria watches him go for a moment before turning back to Natasha. “I didn’t think Sam would mention something right away,” she tells her. It’s not an apology, necessarily, but that’s because she knows Natasha wouldn’t want one from her. She doesn’t blame Maria for her fight with Steve, nor does she blame Steve or herself, really. It’d been unfortunate for him to find out something so serious the way he had, especially since she knew that it would be worse to hide it at all. She hadn’t meant to wait for so long, and Steve he didn’t bring up her mother simply because he was pissed and trying to get back at her.

“I know,” Natasha says simply, her mouth hitching at the corner, and Maria gives her a small smile in return. “I didn’t mean to put you in that position to begin with.”

Maria’s smile widens just a little, and for a moment, Natasha thinks she might have some witty retort, maybe even a teasing line. But, when the moment passes, her expression fades altogether as she presses her lips into a tight line.

And, because Natasha knows her best friend, she knows what that carefully composed look means. “You found something out,” Natasha says.

Maria nods. “My father found out that I was looking into Sarah Rogers, but when he approached me about it, he’d already assumed it was Steve’s mother that I was looking into. He thought that I was just looking into Joseph again, like he’d asked me and Carol to do when he first went missing, and Dad said—” She stops herself, and, maybe for the first time that Natasha can remember, Maria looks hesitant, but she continues on. “He’d told me that when Joseph Rogers moved to the States, he’d scrubbed his past.”

Natasha feels her entire body stiffen, feels her breath hitch in her chest. At the corner of her gaze, she watches Wanda sit up, her cheeks still wet with tears as she furrows her at Maria in question.

“Scrubbed?” Natasha echoes. “When was this?”

“He was thirteen when he moved here, and he was adopted, but there are no records of that, either.” The surprise clear as day in Maria’s voice as she turns to Wanda. The girl looks just as stunned as the both of them, glancing between her and Natasha as the hand that’s holding onto Bucky’s shirt tightens. It’s clear that this is news to her, too.

Thirteen.

Natasha’s mind flickering back to the photograph of her mother and Joseph Rogers, the two of them clearly young. As soon as she’d seen them, she thought they would’ve barely been in high school, if even that.

Joseph Rogers had been adopted. He’d moved to the United States, and he’d known her mother before that happened. No one mentioned anything about Joseph being with her Uncle Howard and her father on that year-long trip across Europe, but Uncle Howard has known Joseph Rogers since high school. He had to have known Joseph Rogers wasn’t born into the most notorious Family in New York. In fact, every Family had to have known about his adoption the moment Joseph Rogers had come into the picture.

“There’s something else,” Maria adds, and the tone of her voice makes Natasha’s chest tighten as she glances at Wanda.

... ...

He was lucky, the doctor told them. If Pietro had been a second slower, he might not have even made it to the hospital in time. Those words alone had been enough to make Steve feel pretty damn lightheaded, but the fact that his brother is fine, that he’s expected to make a full recovery, keeps Steve from swaying on his feet.

Wanda’s eyelashes flutter shut as she exhales slowly, leaning into Steve’s chest as a shiver rolls down her spine, and Steve tucks her in close as he brushes a kiss to her hair. He catches Natasha’s gaze over Wanda’s head, his fingers twitching to pull her in, too, but they both know that he won’t. Not right now, when they haven’t even talked about what this is, and especially not with the rest of the Family in the same room. He doesn’t think she’d push him away, but he doesn’t want anyone asking questions right now.

He’s got enough to deal with as it is.

And he’s glad that Howard, Nick, and Odin are standing with him to actually catch whatever the hell the doctor is saying about the operation itself, because Steve can barely catch his breath, let alone understand more than a few words at a time. But that’s why they’re there, why everyone in the Family has been here the entire time that Pietro’s been in surgery, to let Steve and Wanda deal with coping while they take care of everything else. That’s one thing about the Families that still surprised Steve from time to time—just how much of a family they truly are. Steve hasn’t spoken with Odin nearly as often as he has with Howard and Nick, but he’d still come with Frigga and everyone else in tow, and even if it’s just to save face with Howard and Nick, Steve appreciates it nonetheless. Almost half of the men searching the streets right now answer to him.

And even though his sister clearly has an issue with Steve, and his brother isn’t nearly as welcoming, Steve isn’t all that surprised that Thor and his wife, Sif, have been hovering nearby all night long. Like with Odin, Steve has only spoken with Thor a handful of times, but the man is hard not to like. He seems to take after Frigga more than Odin, and he’d gotten a smile out of Wanda and eased some of the weight pressing on Steve’s chest for a short while without completely disregarding the mood altogether.

Steve glances across the room, his gaze falling on where Hela has been sitting the whole night.

She’d kept to herself, barely glancing in Steve’s direction when their family first arrived, and she’d hung back with Loki when Odin, Frigga, Thor, and Sif had come to talk to Steve and Wanda. He supposes that’s as close to civil as she was going to offer considering she hasn’t made her contempt with Steve a secret. She doesn’t strike him as the type to only talk behind one’s back, either, so Steve doesn’t doubt that Hela is under strict orders from Odin and Frigga to keep quiet if she can’t find anything tame to say.

Still, Steve’s thoughts drift back to the text Natasha had gotten from Sam and Maria a few hours ago, about an Asgard car being near the scene.

Even if Hela had wanted to make a move against Steve, using Wanda and Pietro to do so would’ve been a stretch, even for her. Maybe she thinks they should head the Families instead, especially with Steve in his father’s shoes for the time being, but Hela wouldn’t have much to gain from that kind of move. The Families each have their boroughs that they run, and even though they don’t draw the lines on a map, Steve knows the control is fairly evenly split. Steve learned fairly early on that his father’s supposed title of running the Families is mostly just that – some kind of title. He made the decisions, but nothing was ever decided without consulting the other families.

Steve can’t see it being worth it to Hela to get to him through Wanda and Pietro, not when there would be hell for her to answer to from the rest of the Family. Orchestrating raids on their shipments and deliveries doesn’t make much more sense, either, when she directly benefits from those profits.

Still, he can’t exactly shake the feeling that she’s involved somehow. It just may not be as obvious as it seems.

“You alright?” Natasha asks, standing close enough and keeping her voice low enough for only him to hear, even with Wanda, Clint, and Howard just a few steps away.

He hums, catching her arm in his hand, just above the elbow, and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Walk with me?” he asks, and she nods.

Steve steps forward, waiting until Wanda notices him a few seconds later as to not interrupt Clint and Howard. “I’m going to grab some air before they show us to Pietro’s room,” he tells her, and Wanda nods, offering a small smile. He knows she isn’t exactly in a rush. She’d put up a fight at first when both Howard and Nick insisted that she and Steve go home to rest after they’ve sat with Pietro for a short while, but he knows she’s exhausted, and she conceded when Clint reminded her that the Family would be with Pietro all night and would call if anything urgent comes up. Pietro will likely be asleep until morning, anyway, and the doctors seem confident that he’ll make a quick recovery.

Natasha lets him take her hand as they turn the corner into the hallway, threading their fingers and lifting her hand up to brush a kiss to her knuckles.

They don’t step outside of the hospital – there are more men keeping watch, but it’s still risky, especially this late at night – but he walks them down a few hallways until they’re mostly alone and don’t seem to be in anyone’s way.

He leans back against the wall, sliding his hands over her hips and tugging her close, and he only catches a glimpse of the smirk tugging at her lips before he slants his mouth over hers. He tells himself it’ll just be a gentle, comforting brush – something selfish but quick – but he knows he’s not fooling anyone, especially not himself.

Natasha doesn’t flinch or stiffen in response, not even for half a second. Instead, she makes the softest sort of sound as she parts her lips, and within seconds, the kiss is deeper and it’s harder and it’s just more. He pulls her tightly against his chest as her hands slide up between them, draping around his neck, and he feels both exhilarated and exhausted all at once. Their argument in his kitchen felt like days ago, and sitting next to her on the barstool, drinking wine and flirting, felt like it’d happened weeks before.

Slowly, eventually, the frantic hum in his body ebbs into something softer, his mouth easing against Nat’s until she pulls back, just a little, reaching up to touch his jaw.

“I’m sorry for reacting the way I did,” he murmurs against the corner of her lips. “I trust your judgment, Nat. You were just being mindful of me.”

“I’m sorry I waited too long to tell you myself, because I was going to. I wanted you to hear all of it from me.” She pulls back a little more, just enough to really look into his eyes, and even though he knows she can probably read his every though, he still nods at her in encouragement and in reassurance. Because he believes her. He knows she’d been planning to tell him and she was just waiting for the right time, when she had enough of a reason for it to make sense to herself before she got him involved on it, too.

He doesn’t know if he would’ve taken it better or worse if she’d told him right away, when it was just a nagging thought that she decided to follow up on. He’d like to think that he would’ve handled it well enough, but then again, bringing his mother up to any extent even after all these years is still a little hard for him.

He doubts he would’ve had any rational reaction to hearing it in this context, in a theory that someone with the same name as his mother was stalking Natasha.

Steve exhales, dropping his forehead to hers. “We don’t have to talk about it now,” he promises softly, turning his head to press a kiss to her temple. “I can barely keep myself upright, but I just wanted us to at least talk about this, and I wasn’t sure I’d have the energy to do it once we got home. I don’t like you thinking I don’t trust you.”

He hears the smile in her soft laugh. “I know you trust me,” she promises. “I don’t think I could even attempt to explain it right now, so it’s better if we get back to it later.”

He nods once, pulling her in close again as he lets his head fall into the curve of her shoulder. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been gone, but he doesn’t want to go back just yet and Natasha seems to share the sentiment as her body melts against his, her lips brushing against the pulse in his throat.

... ...

Bucky is the one to drive the four of them back to Steve’s from the hospital, and, considering it’s just after one in the morning by the time they step into the brownstone, it’s a given that he’ll be spending the night just as Nat is. Wanda lends her another set of pajamas to borrow, and Natasha thinks the girl is attempting to make a joke at first when she asks Natasha if she’ll be sharing a bed with her or Steve—but then Steve gives her this little smile when she looks at him and Natasha feels something warm start to unfurl in her chest. He tells her that it’s her choice, and that Bucky can take the couch if she doesn’t want to share a bed at all, but Natasha doesn’t even have to pause to consider.

Wanda lends her another set of pajamas to sleep in and Natasha gives her a hug goodnight, and then watches as Wanda walks up to Bucky to give him a hug, too, lingering a beat longer before giving him a small smile and then stepping into her room with Steve.

Natasha’s eyes flit to Bucky when the girl’s door clicks closed, and he exhales, “Don’t even start,” before she can even draw a breath.

His lips are twitching as if fighting off a smile of his own, though, so Natasha is willing to bet he isn’t nearly as uncomfortable with it her teasing as he acts.

Natasha breathes out a laugh. “I think it’s cute,” she says. Bucky sort of squints at her as if trying to determine if she’s teasing about that, too—and yeah, maybe she was. But then she catches the flicker in his eyes as he genuinely studies her, and she knows that he’s looking for something, though maybe he doesn’t even realize it for himself.

If anyone would be good enough for my little sister, it would be my best friend.

Natasha feels herself smile as she remembers how easily Steve said those words. She doesn’t necessarily think Bucky is looking for validation in this moment; she doubts he would’ve ever made a move on Wanda if he thought it would genuinely upset Steve, or if he thought he wasn’t enough for her.

Still, she lets the amusement in her smile fade at the edges as she peers back at him. “You were exactly what she needed tonight,” she tells him, her voice soft. If he’s surprised by the sentiment from her, though, he does a pretty damn good job of not letting on as he nods, a grin tugging at his lips. “Good night, Buck.”

Bucky’s chuckles follow her as she slips into Steve’s room, and she heads straight into the hallway bathroom to change.

She doesn’t realize just how damn exhausted she is until she has the door shut behind her. The nerves of waiting while Pietro was in surgery had kept the fatigue at bay back at the hospital, and though a little of it crept back in when she and Steve were alone in that hallway, she’d caught somewhat of a second wind when they walked back to wrap up with Uncle Howard and check on a sleeping Pietro in his private room. She doesn’t know how long Steve plans on talking with Wanda – probably not long at all since the two of them are likely wrung out by now – so Natasha is quick to change and wash up, just in case Steve plans on waiting on her before he turns the light off and passes out.

In fact, she’s doesn’t doubt that’s what he’d do.

The door to his bedroom is open partway, giving her a glimpse of Steve as he walks out of his bathroom, so Natasha switches off the hallway light behind her before slipping inside. He pauses in the middle of setting the throw pillows aside when he hears her, looking over his shoulder, and she lets her gaze trace over his body. She’d never felt as if he was reserved with her before, but it seems that, after their kiss, whatever little semblance of polite restraint that’d been between them had dissolved. Rather than a mild glance, she takes her time to look at him, her eyes sliding across his broad shoulders straining against his white tee, over his sculpted biceps and down to the cinch of his hips.

When she brings her eyes back up to his, she finds a small grin on his lips, one eyebrow arched. She nearly has to bite back a smirk.

“I’m disappointed.” She tilts her head as she walks over to him. “When you said you usually get warm at night, I was hoping that meant you went to bed shirtless.”

He chuckles. “Actually, I usually do.”

She raises her eyebrows, this time letting her smirk tug at her lips. “Well, don’t stop on my account.”

She’s only half-teasing, and she knows he can hear it in her voice because he pauses, just for a second, as his eyes flits down to her lips, his gaze shifting into something a little darker and a little stormier. He reaches for the hem of his shirt, catching her gaze once more as he cocks his head ever so slightly in question—and though there’s a quip on the tip of her tongue, she doesn’t really want to make light of this moment between them. She doesn’t want, not even for a second, for this to feel any less of what it is.

They’ve both waited too damn long for this.

She grasps at his shirt, pushing the material up his body, and he helps her pull it over his head before letting it fall to the floor. She holds his stare as she places her palms flat against his chest, and when he reaches up, gently grasping at her wrists, she knows he won’t pull her, nor is he afraid that she may suddenly change her mind.

He simply wants to touch her, and so he does, stroking the pads of his thumbs ever so slightly across her skin as another small grin pulls at his lips. “You can tell me if this is too much, too fast, Nat,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans in closer.

“Considering this should have happened weeks ago, it’s not fast enough.” She narrows her eyes at him, her smirk widening. “If you don’t kiss me, Steve—”

He’s laughing as his mouth slants over hers, and Natasha feels that same flutter of warmth in her chest as she had when he’d kissed her at the hospital.

He pulls her arms around his neck, guiding her back until he’s wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her onto the bed, deepening their kiss as he lowers her against the mattress. His teeth graze against her lower lip right before he nips it, making her mouth part a little more against his as his tongue sweeps inside. It only takes seconds for his gentle yet firm kiss to shift, growing just a little bit rougher, just a little bit harder, as one of his hands comes up to cup her jaw. She can feel the slight tremble of his thumb across her skin, turning into a shiver that rolls down his spine as he presses them together, and she knows that every ounce of emotion from the day—hell, from just the last few hours—is crashing back over him, rushing through his veins. He’d done a good job at tamping down all of his anxieties at the hospital, but now they’re finally bursting free.

She knows he won’t want to just forget everything that happened today, and it’s not that he really wants a distraction, either. He just needs something to do with all of the raw emotion humming restlessly through his body, and she knows one thing that might work.

Her hands slide out from around his neck and slip between them, gently dragging her nails down the contours of his chest until she grasps at the waistband of his sweats.

But then he’s grasping at one of her hands to stop her, parting their kiss and lifting his head just enough to peer into her eyes. “Let me help,” she whispers.

He ducks his head, kissing her throat, nipping at the pulse in her neck, and she exhales a sigh as she arches up against him. “You are helping,” he insists, his voice soft but sincere as his lips brush across her collarbone, dips between her breasts just above the dip of her tank top. He grasps at the hem, pushing it up to bare her stomach, and she threads her fingers through his hair as he places a kiss just above one of her ribs. He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of her shorts, pausing. “You can tell me to stop.”

Her eyelashes flutter closed as she smiles like an idiot up at the ceiling. He doesn’t know how he keeps surprising her, but she likes it a little too much.

“Is this for you, too?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer. He’d said it just seconds ago, even if not in the exact words, and she absolutely believes that Steve would want to focus on her pleasure alone as a way to channel all of the excess energy radiating off of his skin.

Still, her stomach does a little flip when he hums his reassurances against her hipbone, nipping her skin there, and she lifts her hips off of the bed so he can slide her panties and her pajama shorts off. He presses his thighs apart, his eyes flickering up along the length of her body to catch her gaze right before his tongue sweeps against her.

Oh.

She sucks in a breath, spine arching just a little bit off of the bed, and he pulls one of her knees over his shoulder as he opens her up a little wider, glides his tongue against her a little harder. She’d already been damp from the few minutes they’d been kissing, and it doesn’t take long for her to grow wetter, her skin flushing all over as he takes his time tasting her. He licks through the slick folds of her sex, finding her little bundle of nerves and sucking on it lightly, too lightly, and she lets her head roll to the side as she exhales heavily. He’s driving her crazy, leaning every inch of her, teasing at her entrance until she’s twisting her fingers into his duvet and rolling her hips against his mouth.

Then his tongue slips inside, curling, and she lets out a soft moan as her hips buck ever so slightly against him. She swears she feels him grin.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he sweeps his tongue inside of her, then up through her folds, flicking at her tight bud before dipping back down, repeating the cycle and yet somehow teasing her enough with sudden quick sucks or lingering licks so that she can’t fall into his rhythm.

She feels ready to burst, her body lightly slicked with sweat and her breaths coming in shaky and haltingly. It almost feels as if the more she squirms under his tongue, the longer he draws it out. Her hands find his hair again, twisting into it and all but holding him in place, hips jerking as she chases the climbing pressure low in her stomach—

Then he catches her clit between his lips, sucking it into his mouth and letting his tongue dart out against it, and she bows off of the bed as she finally, finally hits the edge.

One of his hands digs into the flesh of her ass, holding her to him as she rides out the waves of her high. He groans against her, sounding every bit as delicious tortured as she feels, and, god, that makes her come just a little bit harder, hearing how much pleasure he gets out of her pleasure.

She feels the tease of his fingers a second before he slips two inside of her with ease, curling, his tongue still working over her tight bundle of nerves, and this time her moan is a little louder when it spills from her lips.

Her second orgasm comes right on the heels of her first, harder and headier, and longer, the thrust of his fingers dragging out every ounce of pleasure from her as he can. She doesn’t know if she should feel embarrassed by how easily she falls apart for him or impressed by how quickly he reads her, but as the white-hot waves burst through her, she can’t find it in herself to care about either. Especially not when Steve’s body is moving over her again, his hand wrapping around his hard length as he dips down to kiss her.

He groans into her mouth, letting her taste her sweet musk on his tongue as she shivers under the ripples of her orgasm, and, very faintly through the thrum of the blood rushing through her, she can hear the wet slide of him working his hand over himself, chasing his own high.

“Nat,” he breathes into their kiss, and even through the haze of pleasure smothering her, she knows what words he can’t quite find, knows what he’s really asking.

She nods, almost frantic, reaching up with trembling hands to cup his face. She can’t quite find her words, either, so she just kisses him even harder instead.

He groans again, his body shuddering as he rushes over that edge, too, and she feels the warmth of his release start to wet her stomach. She nearly shivers, biting down on his lower lip and then licking at the indent of her teeth, and she doesn’t even care that their kiss has grown messy as he rides out his high.

Fuck. Fuck.

She parts their lips as her lungs start to burn for air and his head falls forward into the curve of her neck. She really, really shouldn’t be smiling like an idiot right now, but she couldn’t care less his body shivers through the last tremors of his orgasm.

He kisses the thrumming pulse in her neck once, twice, three times, and then lifts his head enough to stare down at her face. His hand is wet with his release when he touches her, but then again, so is she. He licks his lips before they hitch into a boyish sort of grin, and her stomach flips as she returns it with a small grin of her own.

If she thought she’d been exhausted before, she’s very nearly about to pass out now as Steve slides off of her and heads into his bathroom. Even then, though, this kind of fatigue feels warmer and lighter, and she can see it in his face, too, when Steve returns with a handful of tissue and damp washcloth. The heaviness that’d been in his eyes is no longer there as he methodically works to wipe her off with the tissues, disposing them into a small waste bin by his nightstand before running the washcloth over her skin.

When he heads back into the bathroom and returns a second time, he pulls the duvet back for them to climb under and then switches off the light. He reaches for her in the same second that she slides closer, and she smiles against his skin when he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

She knows she must’ve fallen asleep in the very next second, but she still hears his murmured, “thank you,” into her hair as she drifts off.

... ...

Steve has never been a deep sleeper, which is likely the reason he’s almost always up before dawn. But he knows before he’s even entirely awake that he’d gotten more rest last night than he has in a long while.

He also knows before he’s even opened his eyes that Natasha isn’t in the bed with him. He doesn’t feel the gentle press of her body against his or her hair falling across his shoulder, but he can still catch her scent clinging to the fabric of his sheets, something soft and sweet and just a little bit spiced, too. He can hear her, though. It’s faint and muffled and honestly something he thinks he could be imagining at first, considering he’s only really half-awake. But her laugh lilts through the air, mingling with Wanda’s giggles as it floats into his room. The sound makes a smile tug at his lips as he blinks his eyes open, squinting against the early morning light filtering in from the windows.

He can’t remember the last time he slept in until sunrise.

Another giggle floats through the air, a little louder this time, and, now that he’s almost entirely awake now, Steve can hear someone moving around in the kitchen. Probably Bucky. He knows the guy has to be at the precinct soon, and Wanda will want to leave early as well so they can get back to the hospital. Honestly, he’s surprised that his sister didn’t come straight into his room to wake him as soon as she was up herself, but it seems that she’s content and distracted enough by Nat to give him a few more minutes.

He finds the door wide open when he steps into the hallway, the two of them perched on the bed and huddled close together, and Steve’s gaze catches on Natasha. She put her panties and her pajama shorts back on, of course, but just the sight of them pulls him back to last night and to the look in her eyes when he’d peeled them off of her and tossed them to the floor. Part of him had wondered as he drifted to sleep if it would feel different in the morning. If he’d wake up and realized they maybe should’ve waited.

But he doesn’t think that, not even for a second.

Because Natasha had been right about the fact that they’ve been dancing around this, them, for weeks. Just because they’d fallen into bed together only hours after he’d kissed her for the first time doesn’t mean they’d rushed through anything.

And just because he hadn’t been inside her doesn’t mean he didn’t want to be. But they’d both been exhausted – mentally, physically, and for damn sure emotionally – and he’s glad he’d waited. He won’t be forgetting last night anytime soon, but when they finally sleep together, he doesn’t want an ounce of fatigue clouding his memory.

Wanda catches sight of him in the doorway, her smile brightening, and Natasha follows her gaze onto him. “Good morning,” she greets, a small smirk pulling at her lips.

“Good morning.” He bites back a smirk of his own, shifting his gaze onto Wanda to find her eyes practically sparkling. “Sleep well?”

“Not as well as you, it seems,” Wanda replies, wrinkling her nose at him. He nearly shakes his head, but then she’s sliding off the bed and onto her feet and coming over to him, wrapping her arms around him with a squeeze, and, yeah. He can wait until later find out what the two of them were giggling about.

“You okay?” he whispers, and she presses her face into his chest, humming. Steve glances at Nat, her smile softening as she nods. “Come on. Let’s go make breakfast.”

Wanda unwinds her arms from around him, letting him brush a kiss to her temple before stepping into the hallway, and then Natasha is stepping passed him, too, glancing over her shoulder to shoot him a grin. He reaches forward and gently grasps her arm, pulling her until her back is pressed against his chest, and he ducks his head to press a kiss to the skin right next to her ear. Her grin widens as she exhales a light chuckle. “Well, you’re awfully chipper for someone who had quite the stressful night,” she muses.

He chuckles, too, giving her arm a slight squeeze. “Not all of it was stressful,” he points out, releasing her arm, and she tips her head back so he can brush a kiss to her lips.

He keeps it quick, only lingering for a beat before drawing back, but it’s still enough for a warmth to unfurl in his chest, making his blood hum softly. Natasha’s eyes are glinting as she turns away from him, and he grins as he follows her down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Wanda is already perched on one of the barstools at the kitchen island, spooning some sugar into her mug, and Bucky is drinking his own as he stands beside her. Steve is willing to bet that the guy’s burning his mouth right now as he gulps down his mug, but he’s already cutting it close to when he should be at the precinct.

“You guys going to be at the hospital all day?” Bucky asks as Steve opens a cabinet and pulls down two more mugs.

“Yeah, probably,” he replies. “We may run out once or twice in between, but we’ll be there as long as we can. I doubt they’ll be discharging him today, anyway.”

Howard had text him sometime last night to let him know that Pietro woke up twice and seemed coherent as he talked to the doctor, but he’s been asleep ever since, still lethargic from the surgery. There was another text from Nick, too, telling him that they hadn’t caught who else had been at the shooting, and honestly, Steve didn’t think they would. It’s clear the ambush was planned, like every other ambush the Families have dealt these last few weeks, so it isn’t surprising that they covered their tracks well.

Bucky nods. “Let me know,” he says, and Steve knows that he’s already planning on meeting them at the hospital after his shift, or he’ll meet them back here instead if they’ve already left. Bucky pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time, muttering under his breath before draining the last of his coffee. “I should get going,” he tells them, loading his mug into the dishwasher, and then he’s heading back over to Wanda, pausing just a second to flash her a small grin, and then dipping down to kiss her.

Her eyelashes flutter in surprise, but he pulls back before she can so much as blink, turning to Steve and only barely fighting back a wider grin. “See you later, punk.”

“Pretty sure you’re the punk in this moment,” Steve replies dryly.

His best friend knows that he’s joking, though, so Bucky just chuckles and shoots Nat a grin on his way out.

Wanda’s cheeks are a little flushed as she cradles her mug with both hands, taking a sip of her coffee and catching his gaze over the rim, and there’s something hesitant in her gaze that makes him pause. He knows she’s not necessarily embarrassed by that kiss, even if he’d been there to see, but he can tell something about it is bothering her.

Natasha can see it, too, because she slips onto the barstool beside Wanda’s and brushes her hair behind her ear. “Everything okay?”

Wanda rubs her lips together, giving her a wry sort of smile. “I just don’t want to get too attached,” she admits, her voice soft as she peers down into her coffee. Steve furrows his eyebrows, sharing a confused glance with Natasha, but Wanda continues before they can ask why. “It’s one thing for us to be close because I’m his best friend’s little sister, and maybe it’s okay if we just stay friends. But it’s another thing for him to be involved with me,” she points out, lifting her head and shrugging one shoulder.

“Because he’s a cop and you’re a mafia princess?” he guesses. She nods and he walks over to her, sitting on the other barstool beside her. “Quite the Romeo and Juliet setup.”

Wanda breathes out a laugh as she rolls her eyes. “Please don’t use that as an example of a love story. It’s a poetic tragedy at best.”

Despite everything, Steve chuckles. “I wasn’t going to, because this isn’t a tragedy,” he promises, and the wry amusement fades from his sister’s expression as she gives him a long look. He cups the back of her head as he kisses her temple. “If that’s the only thing you’re worried about then you two will be fine. Buck won’t let that get in the way.”

“He shouldn’t have to risk his job, either,” Wanda argues. “I know it’s an issue for him and Sam to be so close to us. Maybe not you since you knew them from before, but—”

“Wanda,” Steve interrupts gently, giving her a small smile. “Bucky is one of the best detectives in the state. His job isn’t in any more danger than it was before, and he hasn’t even gotten a word of caution from his higher ups, which he would’ve if he was being scrutinized because he’s good friends with his captain. Trust me, and trust him, too.”

His sister nods, but the hesitation doesn’t quite leave her eyes. “I don’t want him to always be scrutinized by the Family, either.”

“You’d be surprised,” Natasha says, and Wanda turns to her, furrowing her eyebrows. “Uncle Howard is relieved that you’ve had Bucky with you all this time.” Wanda blinks and Natasha offers her a grin and a shrug of her shoulders. “Trust me, I was surprised when Aunt Maria told me this, too. But things are changing,” she reminds, glancing at Steve for a moment. “They came around to your brother. They’ll come around to Bucky and Sam, too. Not all of them, but the ones that care about you will. Just give it time.”

Wanda smiles a little, the tension ebbing from her shoulders as she nods. “Okay,” she promises, resting her head against Steve’s shoulder. He glances over her to catch Natasha’s gaze again, grinning when she winks at him before she sliding off of the stool to retrieve their coffee.

... ...

They’ve been at the hospital for a few hours when Steve gets a text from Maria saying that she and Sam are picking up lunch for them—and honestly, Natasha had pretty much forgotten Maria’s revelation about Joseph Rogers until this moment.

It must’ve slipped Wanda’s mind, too, because Steve would have mentioned if his sister had told him that their father was adopted and had every trace of his life before New York wiped clean. Maybe he could’ve already known himself, but it seems unlikely. And Natasha would’ve preferred for Nick to be here so she and Steve can ask him about it directly, but his consigliere, Coulson, came to take his place last night, and Natasha isn’t going to wait this time to tell Steve, especially not with something this important.

“I’m assuming Maria knows what you two will eat because she didn’t ask for any preferences,” Steve tells Natasha and Wanda with a chuckle after reading the text.

Natasha smirks. “She does, but knowing Maria, it could be a complete surprise, too,” she quips, her gaze flitting to Wanda, and she sees the shift in the girl’s expression as she recalls the revelation that Maria dropped on them last night. Her eyebrows furrow and Natasha nods once before turning back to Steve, not surprised to find him watching their exchange curiously. “Maria found something out from Nick, but when she told me and Wanda last night, she didn’t know much,” Natasha says, and Steve lifts his eyebrows.

“Dad wasn’t born here, in the States,” Wanda tells him, her voice soft but still clear in the quiet of Pietro’s room. “He had his past erased.”

“Erased?” Steve’s hand tightens ever so slightly where it’s perched atop one of Natasha’s knees, his jaw tightening a little. He doesn’t look entirely surprised, though, and Natasha is willing to bet that’s because something along these lines might’ve already been in his head ever since they’d found that photo of his father and her mother.

“Nick said that our father was adopted, but there are no records of it,” Wanda adds. “He came here when he was thirteen and anything about his past before that is gone.”

Natasha slides her hand over his, squeezing, and Steve turns his gaze to her as his forehead creases in a silent question.

“My mother also had parts of her past wiped out,” she tells him, and again, Steve doesn’t seem as surprised as you might’ve expected. Honestly, after the initial shock had gone away at Maria’s words, Natasha knew that the thought had already been in her head, too. Maybe she could never have guessed it exactly what Maria had told her, but it was clear ever since the night she and Steve had seen that photograph that their parents (and probably most of the Family, too) had been hiding something all these years.

He nods, lifting her hand to brush a kiss to the back of it. “You okay?” he murmurs against her skin, and, despite everything, Natasha nods.

Because it’s true. Natasha may not like that her parents – and likely her aunt and uncle as well – have kept something from her for so long now, but at the same time, she doubts that anything her mother could be hiding is something that would make Natasha see her differently. And yes, Natasha would be lying if she said she hasn’t become a little warier around her parents since finding that photo, but still, she can’t quite bring herself to put any real distance between them or cut them off. They’re still her parents.

“Well, that’s definitely new,” a voice drawls, and Natasha looks up as Maria and Sam walk into the room. Maria glances pointedly at Natasha’s hand in Steve’s before lifting her gaze up to Natasha’s, arching an eyebrow as a smirk plays at her lips, and Natasha is smirking, too, as she rolls her eyes.

“Man, we’re gone not even for a whole day and we miss out on all the fun,” Sam quips, setting two plastic bags of takeout on the table.

Natasha’s smirk widens. “I don’t know, I feel like you two must’ve had some fun of your own,” she retorts as Maria drops into the chair beside hers. “Have you even left each other’s side since last night, or before then, for that matter? You did show up to Steve’s together, if I recall correctly.”

Wanda giggles softly as Maria shakes her head. “Oh, no,” she argues. “If we’re not talking about you and Steve, we have something more exciting to discuss instead.”

Sam shoots Maria a smirk as he crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall. “I wouldn’t exactly call the Russian mob exciting, but alright.”

That makes Natasha pause. Of all the things for these two could’ve brought up, she certainly hadn’t been expecting this. “What about the Russian mob?” Natasha asks.

“Turns out, some members of the Petrovich mob are here in New York, and they have been for weeks,” Maria answers, the amusement fading from her eyes as she shakes her head. “I don’t know how the hell that managed to slip under everyone’s radars for so long, but I suppose the Family has otherwise been preoccupied. The best part?” Maria arches an eyebrow. “My father found out that Yuri Petrovich is here with them. Quite a long way for the son of the head of the Petrovich mob to travel without a good reason.”

Natasha hums, sharing a glance with Steve. “Any ideas on what that reason could be?”

Maria shakes her head. “They have associates that they work occasionally based in New York, but a simple transaction or negotiation wouldn’t involve the heir of the Petrovich mob making the trip here in person,” she points out.

“Could they be here because of the Families?” Wanda asks, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. “All of the ambushes and shootings, and the crash at the Stark club…”

Steve squeezes Natasha’s hand. “It’d be one hell of an accusation without any real connection,” Steve points out, though he doesn’t sound as if he’s doubting his sister, either.

Natasha presses her lips together as her Aunt Maria’s words from the other day float through her thoughts once more.

Things are changing, darling. Your uncle just wants to keep you safe.

Her aunt never addressed it when Natasha asked if she was in danger, and, at the moment, she’d simply thought it was because of what happened at the club. The whole family has been on edge ever since, even though Natasha has been in her fair of danger before, but she decided not to push the matter. It’s not as if they’ve never been concerned for her before, and just because they tried not to let her see their worry as much before doesn’t necessarily make it suspicious that they choose not to hide it now.

Unless, of course, they had a reason to be worried beyond a foreign mob being in New York. Unless there’s a connection, as Steve had put it.

Her mother is Russian, and most likely Joseph Rogers is, too. And Natasha is willing to bet it isn’t just a coincidence that they not only ended up in mafias, but the same mafia.

“Speaking of connection,” Maria continues, drawing Natasha from her thoughts as she pulls out her phone. “You’ll never guess who I happened to see yesterday.”

She swipes to a photo on her screen and hands it over to Natasha, and the first thing her stare catches on is the long, golden blonde hair swept into a ponytail. Sarah Rogers. Or whoever the hell this woman actually is, but it is her—the very same woman that had been at the coffeehouse that morning. Maria had done a quick scan of the plates on the cars parked outside of Natasha’s apartment the day Natasha had told her about seeing a black compact car, and one had come back registered under Sarah Rogers’ name.

“Is this her?” Steve asks, his voice a little gruff in Natasha’s ear, and she nods as she hands him the phone. She watches his reaction, just in case there might be some echo of recognition, but she isn’t surprised not to see any.

“She’s sure as hell living up to her alias, too,” Sam chimes in, making Natasha and Steve turn their gaze onto him. “We saw her go into your old apartment in Brooklyn.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows. “That apartment was empty when we went,” he says, glancing at Natasha. “Maybe we should’ve checked the other units.”

“Or maybe we need to go back,” Natasha says. It’s one thing for this woman to happen to have the same name as Sarah Rogers, and maybe it could have been a simple coincidence for Natasha to have noticed her in the first place. But her car being parked outside of Natasha’s apartment for weeks would be hard to just write off, and seeing her heading into the abandoned apartment where Sarah Rogers had lived is even harder to ignore. And if that’d been intentional, then Natasha doubts this woman would’ve been able to find the exact address without also determining the apartment number, too. Maybe she simply hadn’t found it by the time Steve and Natasha had gone there.

Maybe they’d simply missed her.

“Buck will be bummed to miss out on all the fun, but after lunch, I’m good to go,” Sam offers, patting his stomach with a smirk. “Can’t fight on an empty stomach.”

Maria fights off a smirk of her own as she rolls her eyes. Natasha hesitates, but Maria shakes her head before Natasha can get a word out. “Don’t even start,” Maria tells her. “Either you’ll need back-up in case this woman really has been stalking you, or you’ll need extra eyes to help search the building. Either way, we’re coming with you.”

Beside her, Steve turns to look at Wanda again. “You’ll be alright here for a few hours?” he asks, because he knows as much as Wanda would want to help, too, it’ll be hard for her not to be with Pietro. She knows he’d woken up overnight, but she has yet to see for herself that he’s truly okay.

Wanda gives him a small smile as she nods. “Of course,” she answers, her eyes shifting to Natasha. “And I know you don’t need this said, but be careful, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” Steve answers instead, and, despite everything, Natasha feels a smile tug at her lips as she peers up at Steve. “I’ll have her back.”