#I love the asshat computer so damn much I don’t even know why he’s just fun to draw

[professorofcosplay]

when you crash Microsoft and you’ve just gotta hit the humans with that blue screen of death stare

I was on Ibis Paint making myself a commission sheet during the outage so I literally didn’t know anything but after finding out about it, I knew what I had to do. Have a low-effort IHNMAIMS art shitpost. AM would so do something like this for funzies.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Stab Me In The Front Part 4: Captain Asshat.

Intro: Steve’s being an asshat…and Katie isn’t standing for it. Throw in some alcohol and the return of America’s Asshole…and there’s trouble ahead!

Warnings: Bad language. Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So this brings the KO XO to an end. I hope you’ve enjoyed this little side path. Huge thanks to @angrybirdcr​ for her edits and banners

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.

Part 3

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

  “Steve…” Katie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before she removed her glasses and rubbed at her eyes “Why are we even having this debate?”

“Oh, it’s a debate?” He folded his arms. “Here was me thinking you were just point blank refusing to listen to me.”

“Oh I’m listening.” She glared up at him from where she sat behind her desk. “You’re just talking shit.”

“I’m talking shit?” He fumed, blowing a breath through his nostrils. “The guy is an absolute dick, and you just voluntarily invited him to your gala?”

“Yes, because this is about the Charity.” She looked at him. “And like it or not, dick he may be, he gave a substantial donation. It’s only right.”

Steve felt the nerve in his jaw twitch “Right?”

“Yes, right. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

“Are you forgetting what he said to you?” Steve looked at her.

“No.” She shook her head “I’m simply saying that I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?” His mouth fell open “You don’t care that he basically-”

“No, I don’t.” Katie cut him off firmly “And if I don’t anymore then neither should you.”

“Ok, so despite the fact that he disrespected my wife, and said some pretty disgusting things about you, I should just let that slide?”

“Yes.” Katie said simply, standing up as she turned off her computer screen before she looked at him “Because believe it or not I don’t actually need you to be offended on my behalf Steve. Now either let it go or don’t bother coming.”

“Fine, if that’s the way you feel then maybe I won’t.”

“And you call me a brat!” Katie snorted, as she walked past him towards the door of her office “You’re so full of shit.”

“I’m full of shit?” Steve snorted, and she stopped, turning to face him “You’re the one that is insisting on inviting that ass hole…I mean, even Natasha thinks you’re crazy.”

“Natasha?” Katie frowned, “What’s Natasha got to do with this?”

Steve hesitated and grimaced inwardly as Katie’s face rearranged into a look of understanding and she let out a scoff.

“You spoke to Natasha before me?”

“She asked me what was bothering me so I told her.”

“Damnit Steve!” She shook her head “Why is that you go running to other people about stuff before me? We’re supposed to be married.”

“Oh but it wasn’t an issue when you told her before me about what HYDRA did to you?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and no sooner had he spoke he saw Katie’s face slip. “Shit, Katie, I-”

“That was a low blow Steve.” She swallowed, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“Fuck you.” She looked at him, before she turned and walked off.

Steve let out a groan of frustration, looking up at the ceiling as he cursed himself. That really had been unfair, the two issues weren’t even comparable. He hated when he spat out stuff like that, because even when they were in the middle of an argument he loved his wife beyond life itself, and hated seeing her upset or hurt. But damnit, sometimes she just riled him so fucking much. With a deep breath he pinched the bridge of his nose and turned from the office, shutting the door behind him, the automatic lock sealing the room.  He made his way back towards the main common room, finding Sam pouring himself a drink.

“S'up Cap?” he asked, looking at Steve “You look like you lost a fifty and found a ten.”

“Oh, nothing, just had an argument with Katie.” he replied heavily “Said something pretty shitty.”

“Like what?” Sam asked. So Steve told him, and watched as the man raised an eyebrow and shook his head “Yeah, that was pretty fucking low Steve.”

“I’m well aware of that Sam.” he sighed, “Fuck.”

“Maybe you should swerve the Gala.” Sam shrugged “Give her time to cool off. I can’t see her forgiving you for that one so easily.”

“Forgiving him for what?” Natasha asked and Steve groaned, just what he needed.

Before Steve could stop him, Sam filled him in and Natasha looked at him, her face stony.

“Wow.” she shook her head. “What the fuck, Rogers?”

“I know, I know.” he said, holding his hands up.

“Thanks for dragging my name into it.”

“It’s me she’s pissed at, not you. And before you say it, with good reason…”

“I wasn’t gonna say that.” Natasha protested as Steve looked at her sceptically. She looked up at the ceiling “Ok, maybe I was.”

Steve rubbed at the spot between his eyes, he could feel a headache coming on.

“I suggest you go apologise.” Natasha looked at him.

“And pray.” Sam added “Because, damned, she aint gonna let you forget this one in a hurry.”

After thanking them, sarcastically, for their moral support to which Natasha snarked back that he didn’t deserve any, Steve wandered back to their living quarters. He knew his was a big thing for Katie, the night upon which SIP’s 6 monthly Fundraising efforts for the Women’s Charities they were partnered with ended, and he was so fucking proud of her for everything she’d overcome to get to this point. But he had basically thrown that in her face with his comments before. He was being a jerk, he knew that. He shouldn’t have let the fact she was inviting that dickhead rile him as much as it did, it was her event, her decision after all. 

Steve took a deep breath before opening the door to their quarters and looked around, his sharp hearing picking up no sounds. He headed into the bathroom, the shower had clearly been used recently, and he found her absence odd as she’d told him earlier that her hair was getting done for the event, and normally Franco came to her. He pulled out his phone, gave her a quick call but no sooner had it rung than it cut to voicemail. 

She’d red buttoned him.

*****

It was about an hour later when Katie walked into the apartment, her hair set in an elaborate braid which swept from the right side of her temple over to the left before the rest of her long locks were curled and fell over her left shoulder. She shot Steve a filthy looked and stalked straight through to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Steve’s head fell back against the sofa cushions, before he took a deep breath and decided it was time to face the music. He pushed himself up, walked into the room and found his wife sat at her vanity unit, digging out her make-up.

“Sweetheart,” he began tentatively, sitting on the bed “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

She glared at him in the mirror, but other than that made no acknowledgement that she had heard him.

“I was out of order.”

Still nothing.

“Katie, come on darlin’, don’t ignore me, please.“

"I’m ignoring you because if I don’t I’m gonna end up screaming at you.” she replied simply “And I’m not letting you spoil tonight for me.”

“Spoil tonight?” Steve frowned “That’s not what I want.”

“Well, you kinda already did in a fashion.” she shrugged “Now if you don’t mind I need to get ready. And your presence is not required. Either in this room, or the gala.”

Steve felt his face fall at that and he looked at her in the mirror as her green eyes locked on his “You don’t want me to come?”

“No." 

"Ok.” he swallowed, fighting to keep his voice calm. “Then I respect your wishes.”

With that he stood up, and left.

As soon as he had shut the door behind him, Katie let out a sigh, her face falling into her hands as her elbows rest on the vanity unit in front of her.  Steve’s face when she’d told him she didn’t want him at the gala had made her heart ache, he’d looked like a little puppy she had just given a harsh kick to. But she was so angry at him, she didn’t even know where to start. He was being an absolute dick over something that really wasn’t that big an issue, and then his dig about comparing him speaking to Natasha about what had happened to her…well, that was as low a blow as you could possibly get. At the time she’d been upset, angry even…now she was almost just shocked that Captain America had it in him to be so damned nasty.

Wanda had been astounded when she had told her what he had said, giving her that as a reason as to why Franco was going to be doing their hair in her room, not Katie’s apartment. Then, when Natasha had turned up, the Red Head had told Katie she had informed Steve he was out of order, but also that he seemed genuinely contrite as well when he had been talking to her and Sam.

Katie knew he was sorry, she didn’t need Natasha to point out that Steve had said what he had it in the haste of an argument. She knew only too well herself that in the heat of the moment people said things they didn’t really mean. But he wasn’t getting off so easily. He accused her of being a brat often enough and here he was acting like one.

So, with that in mind, she’d told him to stay behind. She knew full well that he would show up anyway after an hour or so of brooding, with another apology which she might be ready to accept at that point. But until then, he could fucking stew a little, think about what he had said some more

Raising her head she looked at herself in the mirror before she set about doing her make-up. It took her about 30 minutes to perfect the look she was going for, a dark smoky eye effect with bright rub red lips, another thing she knew drove Steve wild, before she stood up and grabbed her dress out of the wardrobe. It was a skin tight deep red mermaid style Dolce number, which sat off her shoulders with a small v neckline. She knew she looked good in it, which was why she had bought it in the first place along with a matching tie for Captain Asshat. Once she was in, she struggled with the zip which was at the back and after getting it most of the way up, instead of asking said Asshat for help she decided she would get Wanda or Nat to fix it. She stepped into her trusty gold Jimmy Choos before giving herself the once over. Satisfied with the results, she opened the door and walked down the hallway to the living room.

Steve looked up as Katie strode into the living room and felt his jaw drop. He really shouldn’t be surprised anymore at how stunning she managed to look when she was dolled up, but she still took his breath away every time he saw her. She looked great all the time in his eyes anyway but…damned.

She sauntered past him, without so much as a glance in his direction and he took a deep breath. To comment or not to comment now was the big question. Whatever he did or said he was going to be wrong in her eyes so…

Oh fuck it, in for a penny.

“You look stunning.” His head turned to watch her as she walked passed him heading for the door.

“Thanks.” She said, her tone clipped. But that was more of a response than he had expected. He hesitated for a second, about to offer to walk her down to the Marquee, even though she would likely refuse, but he stopped as he saw the back of her dress wasn’t quite done up.

“Honey, your zip.”

“I know.” She opened the door as he crossed the room towards her. “I can’t quite reach it…”

“Why didn’t you just ask?” He sighed, his hand going to help but she jerked away and spun round.

“I’ll get Wanda or Nat to do it.” She said simply.

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously and he knew why. That was the single worst thing he could say to he when she was in this type of mood but he was beyond the point of caring now. She was being ridiculous.

“Look, I know I was out of order, but I’ve apologised. What else do you want me to say?” he asked, looking at her.

“Don’t wait up.” Her voice was steely, and with that she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

He debated for a second if he should go after her, but his own anger won out. Instead he turned round and walked straight to the cabinet they kept their liquor in. Finding what he wanted, a bottle of that Asgardian dynamite stuff Thor had left, he pulled it out, grabbed himself a tumbler and headed back to the couch.

*****

For the next hour or so Katie was too busy to even give Steve a second thought. She welcomed the guests and the limited press that had been invited, Evans and Sam providing her back up checking off the guest list, for which she gratefully thanked them both. She was just at the bar talking to one of the Charity Organisers when she felt a gentle touch on her elbow. She turned and beamed at the man stood in front of her.

“Harlan!” she smiled, as he leant down to gently kiss her cheek “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” he smiled back. “How are you Mrs Rogers?”

“Good, thank you.” she nodded “It’s been busy but definitely worth it.”

“Well the predicted figures look good.” he nodded “You’ve raised a lot of money.”

“Yeah, it’s gone better than I could have ever hoped.” she agreed “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

Harlan waved away her comment and looked back over his shoulder. Katie followed his gaze and saw the man that had caused all the trouble between her and Steve, leaning at the bar. He was dressed in a smart, pin striped suit, his hair slicked back and his jaw clean shaven as ever.

“He came then.” she said, and Harlan turned back to her giving a low chuckle.

“Yes, you made quite an impression on him. I’ve never heard of him donating money to a charity before.” he mused

“Probably guilty he behaved like an ass hole.” she said, before she shook her head “Sorry, that was rude.”

“No more than he deserves.” Harlan sighed “The sad thing is, he’s not a bad man underneath it all. I see a lot of myself in him, just wish he would apply himself better to something. I’ve even tried to get him involved in the publishing company but he just isn’t interested. Suppose you can’t polish a turd.”

Katie let out a huge snort of laughter at the phrase tumbling from the old man’s lips and he gave her a large grin from behind his white beard as she shook her head “Now that’s a quote for your next book.”

Harlan chuckled again before Tony appeared by her side with a glass of champagne.

“Mr Stark.” Harlan shook his hand as Tony smiled at him.

“Mr Thrombey, pleasure.” he said, before he turned to Katie “Where’s Spangles?”

“Busy.” she said simply. Tony arched an eyebrow at him and she gave him a look, which he met with one of his own.

“Doing what?”

“Stuff.”

“Wow, yeah, that stuff…it’s…a pain…” Tony said, and Katie gave him a glare before she glanced around and Harlan struck up a chat with Tony about the latest Stark Industries initiative into wind farms. Natasha caught her eye and she excused herself and wandered over but as she was crossing the room, Ransom stepped into her path.

“Mr Drysdale.” she looked at him “No tatty sweater?”

He gave a huff of a laugh “No, I only wear the cable knit on special occasions.”

“Good to know.” she raised an eyebrow.

“So where’s your guard dog?” he asked, looking around.

“If you mean Steve, he’s otherwise engaged.” She said, shrugging “No doubt he’ll be along later.”

“Well in that case can I get you a drink?”

“It’s a free bar.”

“Yes, but I can still get you one.”

“I’m good thanks.�� she waved the half full flute in her hand. “Now if you’ll excuse me for a second, I need to speak to someone.”

“Oh, Doll, I thought we left things on better terms.” he sighed, placing his hand over his heart, looking at her. Katie cocked her head to one side, before she flashed him a grin.

“I doubt you’re capable of leaving it on good terms with any girl you cross paths with.”

“Never had any complaints.” he smirked. At that Katie snorted.

“Well you can’t be meeting with the right women.” she said simply, and with that she moved past him, and headed over to Natasha who was beckoning her over.

“Everything ok?” she asked and Natasha nodded.

“Yup.I just got you a surprise.” she smiled.

“A surprise?” Katie frowned.

“Seeing as its a special occasion.” Natasha continued, linking her arm through Katie’s. She led her through to the entrance of the Marquee where a familiar face was stood talking to Evans, Sam and Wanda,

“S'up Nova?” Clint grinned at her as she gave a laugh and threw herself at him.

“What are you doing here?” she spluttered as he released her, stepping back slightly.

“Couldn’t miss your big event.” he smiled “You look great. Where’s Cap?”

“In the dog house.” Nat spoke before Katie could. Katie sighed and shot Natasha a look before she turned back to Clint.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” she shook her head. “Now, come on, fill me in…how are the kids? Laura?”

She didn’t miss the look that Wanda, Sam and Natasha shared but chose to ignore it as she steered Clint towards the bar for a well overdue catch up.

*****

Steve drained his glass and poured himself another measure. Katie had been gone for just under two hours now and his mood was rapidly growing worse. More so because deep down he knew this was his own stupid fault. Because of his inability to keep his, albeit in his opinion justified, issue about Ransom fucking Drysdale to himself, his wife was now going through probably one of the biggest nights of her life without him there. And what made it worse was that smarmy bastard was there, probably eyeing her up, like he had done at the last gala, making some dickhead comment or other which he would no doubt weasel his way out of by sending another cheque for a ludicrous amount. Steve hated that, people that thought money made everything ok. And what was worse, it seemed to have placated Katie as well. He took a mouthful of his drink, the burn in his throat pleasantly distracting him for a moment, before he stared at the TV.

No, fuck this… this was his wife, his damned compound.

Necking his drink he stood up, the liquor giving him a pleasant buzz, before he strode into the bedroom, stripping off his sweater and jeans before he pulled his suit out of the closet. Slipping his arms into his shirt, he buttoned it up before expertly tying the tie Katie had bought him in a double Windsor, before grabbing his jacket. Once one he straightened his hair, slipped on his shoes he headed out of the door, making his way out of the side of the building, striding over to the marquee which was buzzing with people.

“Oh here he is.” Sam grinned at him “You’re a brave man, Cap.”

“Shut up Sam.” he said, rolling his eyes.

Sam chuckled as Evans raised an eyebrow. “Should I check he’s on the list?” he drawled, his Texan accent thick.

“I think Katie crossed him off.” Sam teased.

“Hilarious.” Steve deadpanned, stepping past them into the Marquee. His eyes quickly roved the crowd and he did a double take as he saw Clint with Natasha and Wanda at the bar. He’d had no idea the archer was coming, but right now he was looking for his wife, the reunion could wait. He continued to scan the Marquee and he spotted her and then felt his jaw clench as he saw she was stood with him. As he watched he saw her say something and she tipped her head back in genuine laughter, and touched his arm before she shook her head, and turned to someone else who had attracted her attention. Giving a nod she looked back to Ransom and he nodded, as she walked away.

“Spangles.” Tony greeted appearing at his side. “What’s going on?”

“Ask your sister.” he said, his voice stony. “I need a fucking drink.”

With that he strode over to the bar. Ordering himself a large scotch he turned to look for Katie again, but there was no sign of her. With a nod of acknowledgment to the guy behind the bar he took his drink and turned to look back over the room. He spotted a few familiar faces from the compound and the tower, nodding towards Pepper as she smiled at him. Tony looked at him again before he turned away, and then his eyes fell on Ransom who was stood with his grandfather. Ransom grinned at him, and Steve simply glared back, before he turned to greet Clint who had now appeared behind him.

“Hey Cap.” Clint smiled, and Steve returned his grin, shaking his hand.

“Hey Clint, didn’t know you were coming.”

“No one did, bar Nat. Thought it would be a nice surprise for Nova.”

“Sure she was thrilled." 

"Am I sensing a little trouble in paradise?” Clint asked, and Steve scoffed.

“You could say that.” He shrugged, before he sighed “I said something before, that was out of order and now she’s giving me the cold shoulder. Told me not to come actually but…”

“But here you are.” Natasha said, leaning on the bar besides him “You’re either dumb, got a death wish…or maybe both.”

“Romanoff, just don’t.” He turned to look at her, and she smirked before ordering herself a martini. “How long has Drysdale been here?”

“Who?” Clint frowned.

“The smarmy looking asshole in the pinstriped suit.” He said, nodding towards him.

“About an hour.” Nat shrugged.”I’m not sure.”

“An hour too long.” Steve muttered, taking a mouthful of his drink.

“Are you seriously that bothered by him?” She turned to look at him. Steve didn’t reply.

“Clearly.” Clint said, “Who is he?”

“Harlan Thrombey’s Grandson.” Natasha explained “Harlan wrote the book that the SIP published and donated all the profits to the Relief Fund.”

“And you don’t like him?”

“They had a little run in Boston…” Nat smirked. “And then at the Launch…”

“It wasn’t a run in.” Steve shook his head “He was absolutely vile to Katie…”

“And she’s over it…” Natasha sighed

Steve didn’t reply, he simply watched Drysdale for a second before he turned his attention to the stage where Tony was now tapping the microphone. The Marquee fell silent and Tony grinned out.

“And once again I find myself the centre of attention.” he grinned, and the room chuckled. “But tonight isn’t about me, for once, yes I know, I know…”

He continued to talk for a few minutes, thanking everyone for coming before he grew serious and took a deep breath.

“As you will all know, the past 6 months Stark Independent Publishers has been working, in partnership with a number of Women’s Charities which are close to all of us in and around Stark Industries, and the Avengers for personal reasons as you will be well aware. We are seconds away from announcing our final fundraising total, so without further ado I’d like to hand you over to my little sister, who’s been the brains behind this from the very start. Kiddo, the stage is all yours.”

As he stepped back the Marquee erupted into applause and Katie walked up the steps to the stage, her face beaming as Tony swept her into a hug. She grinned at him as he kissed her cheek and she headed to the microphone.

“Thanks Tone.” she smiled, “That was short and sweet and actually very to the point, for once.” a few chuckles rang around and Steve simply watched his wife as she started running through what they’d been doing and how they’d been raising money, her passion and enthusiasm shining out of every inch of her body. As he stood still, he felt all the anger eb out of his body and instead it was filled with an overwhelming sense of pride. Katie finished her speech before she stepped back and turned to take an envelope from Happy who bent and kissed her cheek.

“So although I know the sales figures from our book, the rest of this is a surprise to me, as much as it is to you.” she smiled, and then her eyes locked with Steve’s. She gave a little surprised frown, and then her face softened slightly as he smiled at her and she gave him the faintest of smiles back, before she averted her gaze and grinned as Tony let out a loud yell.

“Drumroll please….”

Katie laughed as the tent was filled with the sounds of people banging on things, and stomping their feet. Steve watched as she opened the envelope and pulled out the card. Her eyes widened as she read the total and her mouth dropped open.

“Shit.” she spluttered, and the Marquee chuckled whilst she composed herself. “Sorry but…my God this is…” she swallowed and looked at Tony for a moment before she shook her head “According to this, the donations, sales…we’ve raised over fourteen and a half million.”

“Holy shit!” Steve heard Natasha splutter as his own mouth dropped open, and he joined in the cheering.

“This is amazing, but this also isn’t the end of it. Stark Industries will be doubling this total and all profits from the sales of "The Colour of Revenge” will continue to be donated.” She sniffed slightly and Steve could see she was getting emotional. He set down his glass on the bar and started to make his way over to the stage. "This money will save lives, give women a safe place to go when they’ve no one else to turn to. Thank you, thank you all for your overwhelming generosity. Now, please enjoy the evening and the entertainment and if any of you want to give us any more money, please feel free.”

At that she stepped back and Steve waited for her at the bottom of the stage steps, the applause ringing in his ears. He offered her his arm and she paused for a second.

“Oh come on, sweetheart” He pleaded gently. She allowed him to help her down before she turned to him

“I told you not to come.”

“Honey, this was your big night. I didn’t want you to do this alone.”

“There’s a marquee of people.”

“You know what I mean.” He said gently “I’m sorry, you know I am. Please don’t let’s fight now, I hate it.”

“I don’t want to do this here” she said, her tone soft “Not now Steve.”

"Ok.” he said, leaning down to give her a soft kiss. She didn’t turn away, which he took as encouraging “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” she smiled softly, “Now, sorry, but I have to go give an interview but…”

“Sure, come find me when you’re done.”

She nodded, and headed away from him towards someone he didn’t recognise, presumably some journalist. His eyes still on her back as she walked away, he felt slightly buoyed by her seemingly thawing towards him, so with a slight spring in his step he headed back to the bar. He ordered another drink, and had just taken it when a familiar voice drawled at him, and he instantly felt himself bristle.

“She’s one hell of a woman your wife.”

“What do you want Drysdale?” he asked, turning to the man.

“Nothing, I was just paying her a compliment.”

“Well don’t” he glared at the man “And if you value your life, keep your eyes and your damned hands to yourself.”

Ransom let out a snort “What you gonna do, throw me over the bar again?”

"Don’t tempt me.”

“We both know you’re not gonna make a scene here, not with all these people around, because that really would piss your wife off.” he leaned on the bar, looking around. “And then she’d have to send me another coat and a crate of snacks.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve frowned.

“Oh dear, didn’t you know?” Ransom smirked “Yeah, after I sent her the cheque and her knife back, she responded with a very nice coat and a couple of months supply of cookies.”

Steve’s nostrils flared as he looked at Ransom, then over to his wife and back again. “Are you shitting me?”

Ransom shook his head. “And they tasted all the more sweeter coming from her, if you know what I mean.”

“You smug, son of a bitch…” Steve stepped forwards, and a hand settled on his arm.

“Cap.” Sam spoke “Don’t…”

“Yeah Cap...” Ransom drawled, sipping his drink.

Steve shrugged Sam’s hand off his arm and glared at Ransom, the look on the man’s face was infuriating him. “Make one more wise crack I swear to God…”

“I don’t believe it.”

Steve’s head snapped to the side and he saw Katie glaring at him.

“Katie…”

“You just can’t help it can you?” she shook her head. “And I thought you were genuinely sorry.”

“To be fair…” Sam began to defend Steve but she held her hand up.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” she said, shaking her head. “I’m done…”

With that she turned and strode away.

“Oops.” Ransom said simply, picking up his glass. With a final look at Steve, he headed off back towards his grandfather.

“Well played.” Sam said, sarcastically, clapping Steve on the shoulder. Steve took a deep breath before he drained his glass and turned, leaving the tent.

******

It was pushing one in the morning when Katie got back to their living quarters. Steve was sat outside on their patio, the bottle of Asgardian shit on the table in front of him but thanks to his super hearing he knew she’d entered the room. Standing up, grabbing the drink, he moved into the doorway, leaning on it as she shut the door, shoes in her hand. She turned around and stopped when she saw him, eyeing him for a moment, taking in his appearance. His tie was loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up and she could tell from the look in his eyes he was drunk.

“You came back then?” His words were slightly slurred.

“Where else would I go?” She snarked back.

“I dunno, maybe to order Drysdale another coat or some cookies.” He necked the drink that was in his hand before he set the glass down on the dining table that stood in front of him.

“Seriously, that’s…that’s what all that was about?” she shook her head “God you’re an asshat.”

“An asshat.” He mused, pouring himself another measure of drink.

“Yes, an asshat.” she said, swaying a little on the spot. Fuck she was drunk as well, she’d ended up doing shots at the bar with Clint and Evans, never a wise move.

“Well I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.”

“Oh fuck off Steve.” She sighed, “I’m going to bed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, and she stopped, turning round.

“What about?”

“Your present to Ransom?”

“Because I didn’t think it was important, it was just a joke.”

“Fucking hilarious.”

“No, you know what is hilarious? This.” She gestured to him, a little unsteadily “You getting all fucking het up about a damned coat and some cookies. Now who’s being ridiculous?”

“I saw you.” He said, “When I first got there, you had your hand on his arm, laughing at him…”

“Oh Jesus Christ Steve!” She groaned. “I was talking to him, he was telling me something about his uncle!”

“You were all over him”

“Do you want me to go and fuck him or something?” Katie asked, “Because if that’s gonna make you happy, just to prove a point.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid.”

“Well shut up then!” She yelled back. “Sometimes I wonder what the hell goes on in your head. I love you, you know I do. I don’t want or need anyone else but at times you irritate the shit out of me.”

“The feeling is mutual, Doll.”

“Good, glad we agree on something.” She shook her head. “I’m going to bed. You carry on drinking yourself into a stupor. And you can sleep in the spare room.”

“Like fuck I am!”

“Fine, I’ll sleep in the spare room then.” she shrugged

“You’re such a fucking brat.”

“Me?” she laughed “I’m the brat? You’ve behaved like a prize prick Steven, and I’m so fucking pissed at you I can’t even…”

With that she turned and headed towards the bedroom.

“Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you.” He followed her.

“Or what?” She spun round, “What you gonna do…”

“Oh Doll, you have no idea how much you’re pushing me tonight.” He hissed, his voice low.

“Really Steve, how many fucking buttons am I pushing? Hmmm?” She leaned against the wall. “Do enlighten me.”

“You know it’s no wonder Ward cheated on you. If you were like this with him then…”

Whack!

Something sharp hit him in the temple and he dropped the glass he was holding, staggering back slightly. He glanced at the floor and saw that she had launched her shoe at him, her aim impeccable as ever. He raised his hand to his forehead, feeling the wet trickle of blood under his finger. It wasn’t a lot, she’d only nicked the skin but it was enough to sober him up slightly, and the words he had just spitefully spat at her echoed in his head.

“Katie…”

“You are the biggest fucking…” She spoke, her chest heaving, “Actually I don’t even have a word to describe what you are right now.”

“You hit me with a shoe.” He said simply.

“Yeah, want me to do it again?” She asked, waving the one that was still in her hand.

“Don’t.” He shook his head.“Look, I’m…”

“Oh save it.” she said, turning and walking into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Steve’s hands fell to his hips, as he looked down at his feet. What the fuck was wrong with him? That was twice today he’d said something so despicable it made his toes curl even thinking about it. He’d been a grade A asshole, and he needed to make this right.

“Katie…” he strode after her, and headed into the bedroom. The en-suite door was shut and he could hear her sobbing in the bathroom. Fuck. “Honey I’m sorry.”

“Piss off.” she sniffled.

“Open the door, please.”

“No…”

“Don’t make me break it down. You know how precious Tony gets about us breaking things”

His joke fell flat as she remained silent. "Sweetheart…”

“Where did you learn to be so spiteful?” She yelled back through the door.

“I don’t know.” with a sigh he leaned against the door “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of those things…”

“But you did.” she sobbed, and Steve felt the tears prick his eyes “Why?”

“I was angry, and…” he took a deep breath “I guess I wanted to piss you off as much as you pissed me off.”

“I pissed you off?” she snorted “Steve you came at me before with that comment about fucking HYDRA and now Ward…could you be any more nasty?”

“I know, I know…” he said, “Honey, I’ve no excuse. Please, open the door.”

There was a sniffle on the side and he heard her the swish of her dress as she moved. The lock on the door clicked and it opened a chink. He pushed it further and look at her, her mascara was streaked down her cheeks, her hair was messy from where she had clearly been fisting her hands in it and he instantly felt the pang of guilt and regret in his chest tighten even more. “Oh baby girl…” his voice cracked “I’m so sorry…I really am.”

“How could you even think for one minute that I’d even look at that jerk in that way?”

“I don’t not really” he said, shaking his head. “I’m an ass hole, a jealous ass hole…I just, sometimes I can’t believe…” he stopped, and shook his head “You know what, it doesn’t matter. I was out of order.”

She paused and looked at him, sniffing. “You can’t believe what?”

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter.”

“For fucks sake, Steve!” she spluttered “Stop it!”

“I can’t believe that you, well that you chose me you know?” he sighed, his hand running through his hair “I just…”

“You’re a dick.” she shook her head. “I married you, you ass hole.”

“I know, and I wonder why sometimes.”

“So you’ve been a spiteful bastard because you feel insecure?”

“No, well, partly…” he sighed “Look, seeing you before with him and then he he told me about the box and stuff…I just saw red.”

She looked at him and shook her head “That is not an excuse.”

“I know it isn’t.” he looked at her “I know.”

She looked at him for a moment before she shook her head and walked out of the bathroom, over to her vanity table, sitting down. She pulled out the wipes and began scrubbing at her face, removing her make-up. He sat on the edge of the bed, in the same position he had a few hours ago and simply watched her. Eventually, when she was happy her face was clean she looked up and he saw her eyes travel over his reflection before she frowned.

“You’re bleeding" 

"Well, you’re a damned good shot” he shrugged. “And those heels are sharp.”

She stood up and turned, stepping into the space between his legs.

“Honey it’s…”

“Shut up” she instructed.

Knowing he had pushed his luck already he did as he was told and she gently wipe at the cut on his temple, his hands falling to her hips as she did so. He was pleased to see she didn’t push him away. He watched her intently as she cleaned his face.

“I think you’ll live” she said gently, tossing the wipe into the waste basket. His hands flexed on her hips and she looked at him.

“I really am sorry.” he said again “I love you, so fucking much. At times I just don’t know how to deal with it.”

“By not being a cunt.”

“Wow.” he snorted “Did you just drop the c-bomb?”

“Justified.” she muttered, her hands falling to his shoulders “Damned it Steve!”

“I know, I know.” he said his hands, smoothing down the back of her thighs.

“I love you too, so much it hurts at times.” she shook her head “You know the amount of women that look at you in such a way I know what they’re thinking but…I get over it, you know? Because you married me and…” she let out a deep breath. “You go ballistic whenever I question how you feel about me compared to Peggy and yet you come out with the stuff you said today.”

Steve looked down at the floor, his hands still curved around her legs “I know. My ma would be ashamed.”

Katie took a deep breath before she moved her hand and tilted his face up to look at her. His eyes were shining with tears and she let out a sigh, dropping a kiss to his forehead as her hand slid round the back of his neck, nails dragging over his skin.

“I love you.” she muttered “You big, dumb idiot.”

They stayed silent for a moment and Steve looked up at her, smiling softly.

 "You know you really looked amazing tonight. I’m just sorry I didn’t get chance to appreciate it more.“

"Well…” she took a deep breath. “I know I didn’t let you help me into my dress…but you can help me out of it if you want?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, a smile flickering across his face “ Yeah?” he asked, gracefully rising to his feet.

She nodded, biting her lip. He leaned down to give her a soft kiss before he whispered against her mouth “Turn around.”

She did as she was told and Steve reached for the zip on her dress, sliding it down gently, his fingertips brushing her skin as he did so, allowing the dress to fall at her feet and he let out a soft moan as he glanced down, seeing that she was braless. His hands gently guided hers up so they reached back around his neck, and he swallowed at the sight of her presented to him. One hand moved down, splayed on her stomach, pulling her back into him as the other swept her hair out of the way as his head dipped, trailing kisses across the back of her shoulders, before he made his way up her neck, his teeth softly grazing her ear. She let out a soft sigh, her head tilting to one side as his lips continued caressing her soft skin, the hand that was on her belly started slowly to make its way downwards, sneaking beneath the waistband of her panties. His fingers gently parted her folds, and she gave a little gasp as he began to coax her softly, his other hand reaching up to caress her breasts, gently kneading before he pulled on her hardening nipple. She arched her back into him slightly, a breathy gasp escaping her as he continued to tease her, his mouth hot on her neck.

“Like that?” his own voice was raspy, his arousal evident in his tone and she gave a nod.

“Don’t stop…” she begged, and his fingers began to work faster against her nub, the hand on her breast also picking up the pace slightly.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispered and she moaned and writhed in delight at his praise and his actions as he worked her over. With a quick flick of his wrist, he pushed two fingers into her and curled them against her spot and her head fell back even further into him as she let out a soft whimper of his name, his hands upping their pace slightly as she began to buck into his touch. She arched her back, her mouth fell open and then her head rolled forward as she came, knees trembling, her hands pulling at his hair. He held her up in his strong arms and whilst she was still in the after throws of bliss he nipped at her neck, drawing a soft groan from her mouth. Steve gently turned her round and lifted her up, placing her gently on the bed, kneeling over her as he discarded his shirt, tie by which point she had recovered slightly and sat up, her hands pulling at his belt buckle.  He leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep kiss, and he grinned against her mouth as she whipped the belt from around his waist, tossing it to the floor before she undid the button on his pants, pushing them down over his hips along with his boxers.  Once he had shimmied out of his remaining clothes, he fell over her again, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her hard, using his leg to part hers. With a sharp thrust that made her cry out, he sank into her, his lips back on hers, as he stilled for a moment, grinding up against her. Her head fell back against the pillow and he started to drive into her, his thrusts hard, deep and he moved his mouth down to kiss and lick and suck all along her shoulders, knowing full well he would leave marks there for the morning but neither of them cared as their moans grew louder as his thrusts grew more desperate.

“Fuck.” he groaned, both hands now on her hips as he continued his movements, looking down at her as her breasts bounced as her body moved with every slam he made into her. Her hands moved from where they had been gripping at his biceps to bracing herself against the headboard, causing her to push back against him, allowing him to push deeper. As her breathing adopted the tell tale staccato rhythm, he moved one hand  to the back of her head and he used it to make her look up, her eyes locking onto his as he felt her body start to quiver.

“Come on doll…” he practically growled “let go for me…”

It wasn’t like she had a choice. She never did when it came to this. Her pupils were blown now with lust and desire and after another 3, 4 hard thrusts her back arched and her hands flew to his back, nails scratching at his skin. He hissed at the bite of pain, dropping his mouth to capture hers as she moaned again, this moan broken as she bucked upwards and clutched at him desperately.

“Stevie…” she moaned and her walls tightened on him as she came hard, and the feel of her tightening and pulsing around him tipped him him ferociously over the edge after her, his hips stuttering as he gave into the wave of pleasure with an incoherent babble of her name, before he tipped forward, falling onto her, his face buried in her neck.

The pair of them lay still, the only sounds in the bedroom now were the deep, ragged drawings of breath. Katie gently ran her hands through his hair, as she always did, relishing his weight on top of her. This was the only way she could ever lift Steve, his body on top of hers rising and falling through the movements of her deep breathing.  Eventually he raised his head and pressed their foreheads together, his nose sliding up and down hers gently.

"I love you.” he whispered “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do.” she sighed, looking at him “But Steve, you really did behave like a jerk.” “I know, and I’m sorry.” he said, his hands moving to brush her hair back. “I really am.” “I know you are.” she said, her hand gently running down the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes slightly, allowing her touch to relax him even further. “I don’t understand why you think I would even want anyone else.” “Well, I guess you can take me out of that little kid that got his ass kicked all over Brooklyn, but you can’t take that little kid out of me.” he sighed, his head hanging slightly as he shook it letting out a deep sigh.

She considered him for a moment before she leaned up and gave him a soft kiss “I love you, Steven Grant Rogers, not Captain America.” “I know Doll.” he nodded “I know.” With a gentle movement he pulled out of her and pushed the covers of the bed down, before he rolled onto his back, as she scooted over to him, her head laying on his chest, one of her legs pushing through his as she snuggled closer. He pulled the duvet over them and reached over to hit the switch which would cut the lights in the room.

“This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.” she said softly as his hand carded through her hair, his chest warm against her cheek as it gently rose and fell with his breathing.

“I wouldn’t dream of suggesting it does.” he chuckled slightly kissing her head “I’m not that stupid” “Jury’s out.” she yawned slightly, the arm that was draped around his waist gave him a squeeze and he pulled her closer nuzzling into her hair.

It wasn’t long before he felt her relax and he glanced down, just able to make out in the dim light that her eyes were shut. He watched her face for a moment, the face he could draw from memory, and had done as a matter of fact several times, an let out a deep breath. She was right, he was an ass hole, and at times he knew he didn’t deserve her. But she loved him and wanted him, and damned it he’d try and be worthy of that love and want every damed day for the rest of his life.

“I love you so much doll.” he whispered into her hair.

“Love you to Soldier…” she muttered back, her face pressing further into his chest. With a smile he dropped a kiss on her head, closing his eyes as he felt the tendrils of sleep pulling at him, happy that they were going to be ok, not that he doubted that for a second not, really They’d come through far worse after all, and like his Ma always used to tell him.

Tomorrow is another day after all.

***** Chapter 28

**Original Posting**

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spanged Banner: Stab Me In The Front

Part 4- Captain Asshat

Intro: Steve's being an asshat...and Katie isn't standing for it. Throw in some alcohol and the return America’s Asshole...and there's trouble ahead!

Warnings: Bad language. SMUT (NSFW, No UNDER 18s!!!)

Pairing: 

Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: This was supposed to be a Kinks one shot, only my mind went somewhere else and I got carried away and here’s Part 4 of the Knives Out cross over.. Yeah...so now I have to write another one shot from the original prompt from @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​. Oh well... Hope you enjoy, this is a long one...it’s also really loosely proof read so apologies for mistakes but this is SO HARD to do on my phone!!!

"Steve..." Katie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before she removed her glasses and rubbed at her eyes "Why are we even having this debate?"

"Oh, it's a debate?" He folded his arms "Here was me thinking you were just point blank refusing to listen to me."

"Oh I'm listening." she glared up at him from where she sat behind her desk "You're just talking shit."

"I'm talking shit?" he fumed, blowing a breath through his nostrils "The guy is an absolute dick, and you just voluntarily invited him to your gala?"

"Yes, because this is about the Charity." she looked at him "And like it or not, dick he may be, he gave a substantial donation. It's only right."

Steve felt the nerve in his jaw twitch "Right?"

"Yes, right. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

"Are you forgetting what he said to you?" Steve looked at her.

"No." she shook her head "I'm simply saying that I don't care."

"You don't care?" his mouth fell open "You don't care that he basically-"

"No, I don't." Katie cut him off firmly "And if I don't anymore then neither should you."

"Ok, so despite the fact that he disrespected my wife, and said some pretty disgusting things about you, I should just let that slide?"

"Yes." Katie said simply, standing up as she turned off her computer screen before she looked at him "Because believe it or not I don't actually need you to be offended on my behalf Steve. Now either let it go or don't bother coming."

"Fine, if that's the way you feel then maybe I won't."

"And you call me a brat!" Katie snorted, as she walked past him towards the door of her office "You're so full of shit."

"I'm full of shit?" Steve snorted, and she stopped, turning to face him "You're the one that is insisting on inviting that ass hole...I mean, even Natasha thinks you're crazy."

"Natasha?" Katie frowned, "What's Natasha got to do with this?"

Steve hesitated and grimaced inwardly as Katie's face rearranged into a look of understanding and she let out a scoff.

"You spoke to Natasha before me?"

"She asked me what was bothering me so I told her."

"Damnit Steve!" she shook her head "Why is that you go running to other people about stuff before me? We're supposed to be married."

"Oh but it wasn't an issue when you told her before me about what Hydra did to you?" the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and no sooner had he spoke he saw Katie's face slip. "Shit, Katie, I-"

"That was a low blow Steve." she swallowed, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"Fuck you." she looked at him, before she turned and walked off.

Steve let out a groan of frustration, looking up at the ceiling as he cursed himself. That really had been unfair, the two issues weren't even comparable. He hated when he spat out stuff like that, because even when they were in the middle of an argument he loved his wife beyond life itself, and hated seeing her upset or hurt. But damnit, sometimes she just riled him so fucking much. With a deep breath he pinched the bridge of his nose and turned from the office, shutting the door behind him, the automatic lock sealing the room.  He made his way back towards the main common room, finding Sam pouring himself a drink.

"S'up Cap?" he asked, looking at Steve "You look like you lost a fifty and found a ten."

"Oh, nothing, just had an argument with Katie." he replied heavily "Said something pretty shitty."

"Like what?" Sam asked. So Steve told him, and watched as the man raised an eyebrow and shook his head "Yeah, that was pretty fucking low Steve."

"I'm well aware of that Sam." he sighed, "Fuck."

"Maybe you should swerve the Gala." Sam shrugged "Give her time to cool off. I can't see her forgiving you for that one so easily."

"Forgiving him for what?" Natasha asked and Steve groaned, just what he needed.

Before Steve could stop him, Sam filled him in and Natasha looked at him, her face stony.

"Wow." she shook her head. "What the fuck, Rogers?"

"I know, I know." he said, holding his hands up.

"Thanks for dragging my name into it."

"It's me she's pissed at, not you. And before you say it, with good reason..."

"I wasn't gonna say that." Natasha protested as Steve looked at her sceptically. She looked up at the ceiling "Ok, maybe I was."

Steve rubbed at the spot between his eyes, he could feel a headache coming on.

"I suggest you go apologise." Natasha looked at him.

"And pray." Sam added "Because, damned, she aint gonna let you forget this one in a hurry."

After thanking them, sarcastically, for their moral support to which Natasha snarked back that he didn't deserve any, Steve wandered back to their living quarters. He knew his was a big thing for Katie, the night upon which SIP’s 6 monthly Fundraising efforts for the Women's Charities they were partnered with ended, and he was so fucking proud of her for everything she'd overcome to get to this point. But he had basically thrown that in her face with his comments before. He was being a jerk, he knew that. He shouldn't have let the fact she was inviting that dickhead rile him as much as it did, it was her event, her decision after all. 

Steve took a deep breath before opening the door to their quarters and looked around, his sharp hearing picking up no sounds. He headed into the bathroom, the shower had clearly been used recently, and he found her absence odd as she'd told him earlier that her hair was getting done for the event, and normally Franco came to her. He pulled out his phone, gave her a quick call but no sooner had it rung than it cut to voicemail. 

She'd red buttoned him.

*****

It was about an hour later when Katie walked into the apartment, her hair set in an elaborate braid which swept from the right side of her temple over to the left before the rest of her long locks were curled and fell over her left shoulder. She shot Steve a filthy looked and stalked straight through to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Steve's head fell back against the sofa cushions, before he took a deep breath and decided it was time to face the music. He pushed himself up, walked into the room and found his wife sat at her vanity unit, digging out her make-up.

"Sweetheart," he began tentatively, sitting on the bed "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I did."

She glared at him in the mirror, but other than that made no acknowledgement that she had heard him.

"I was out of order."

Still nothing.

“Katie, come on darlin’, don't ignore me, please."

"I'm ignoring you because if I don't I'm gonna end up screaming at you." she replied simply "And I'm not letting you spoil tonight for me."

"Spoil tonight?" Steve frowned "That's not what I want."

"Well, you kinda already did in a fashion." she shrugged "Now if you don't mind I need to get ready. And your presence is not required. Either in this room, or the gala."

Steve felt his face fall at that and he looked at her in the mirror as her green eyes locked on his "You don't want me to come?"

"No." 

"Ok." he swallowed, fighting to keep his voice calm. "Then I respect your wishes."

With that he stood up, and left.

As soon as he had shut the door behind him, Katie let out a sigh, her face falling into her hands as her elbows rest on the vanity unit in front of her.  Steve's face when she'd told him she didn't want him at the gala had made her heart ache, he'd looked like a little puppy she had just given a harsh kick to. But she was so angry at him, she didn't even know where to start. He was being an absolute dick over something that really wasn't that big an issue, and then his dig about comparing him speaking to Natasha about what had happened to her...well, that was as low a blow as you could possibly get. At the time she'd been upset, angry even...now she was almost just shocked that Captain America had it in him to be so damned nasty.

Wanda had been astounded when she had told her what he had said, giving her that as a reason as to why Franco was going to be doing their hair in her room, not Katie’s apartment. Then, when Natasha had turned up, the Red Head had told Katie she had informed Steve he was out of order, but also that he seemed genuinely contrite as well when he had been talking to her and Sam.

Katie knew he was sorry, she didn't need Natasha to point out that Steve had said what he had it in the haste of an argument. She knew only too well herself that in the heat of the moment people said things they didn't really mean. But he wasn't getting off so easily. He accused her of being a brat often enough and here he was acting like one.

So, with that in mind, she'd told him to stay behind. She knew full well that he would show up anyway after an hour or so of brooding, with another apology which she might be ready to accept at that point. But until then, he could fucking stew a little, think about what he had said some more

Raising her head she looked at herself in the mirror before she set about doing her make-up. It took her about 30 minutes to perfect the look she was going for, a dark smoky eye effect with bright rub red lips, another thing she knew drove Steve wild, before she stood up and grabbed her dress out of the wardrobe. It was a skin tight deep red mermaid style Dolce number, which sat off her shoulders with a small v neckline. She knew she looked good in it, which was why she had bought it in the first place along with a matching tie for Captain Asshat. Once she was in, she struggled with the zip which was at the back and after getting it most of the way up, instead of asking said Asshat for help she decided she would get Wanda or Nat to fix it. She stepped into her trusty gold Jimmy Choos before giving herself the once over. Satisfied with the results, she opened the door and walked down the hallway to the living room.

Steve looked up as Katie strode into the living room and felt his jaw drop. He really shouldn't be surprised anymore at how stunning she managed to look when she was dolled up, but she still took his breath away every time he saw her. She looked great all the time in his eyes anyway but...damned.

She sauntered past him, without so much as a glance in his direction and he took a deep breath. To comment or not to comment now was the big question. Whatever he did or said he was going to be wrong in her eyes so...

Oh fuck it, in for a penny.

"You look stunning." he said, his head turning to watch her as she walked passed him heading for the door.

"Thanks." she said, her tone clipped. But that was more of a response than he had expected. He hesitated for a second, about to offer to walk her down to the Marquee, even though she would likely refuse, but he stopped as he saw the back of her dress wasn't quite done up.

"Honey, your zip..." he said as he walked towards her.

"I know." she said, opening the door "I can't quite reach it..."

"Why didn't you just ask..." he sighed, his hand going to help but she jerked away and spun round.

"I'll get Wanda or Nat to do it." she said simply.

"Oh, now you're just being ridiculous.."

Her eyes flashed dangerously and he knew why. That was the single worst thing he could say to he when she was in this type of mood but he was beyond the point of caring now. She was being ridiculous.

"Look, I know I was out of order, but I've apologised. What else do you want me to say?" he asked, looking at her.

"Don't wait up." she said, her voice steely, and with that she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

He debated for a second if he should go after her, but his own anger won out. Instead he turned round and walked straight to the cabinet they kept their liquor in. Finding what he wanted, a bottle of that Asgardian dynamite stuff Thor had left, he pulled it out, grabbed himself a tumbler and headed back to the couch.

*****

For the next hour or so Katie was too busy to even give Steve a second thought. She welcomed the guests and the limited press that had been invited, Evans  and Sam providing her back up checking off the guest list, for which she gratefully thanked them both. She was just at the bar talking to one of the Charity Organisers when she felt a gentle touch on her elbow. She turned and beamed at the man stood in front of her.

"Harlan!" she smiled, as he leant down to gently kiss her cheek "I'm so glad you could make it."

"The pleasure is all mine." he smiled back. "How are you Mrs Rogers?"

"Good, thank you." she nodded "It's been busy but definitely worth it."

"Well the predicted figures look good." he nodded "You've raised a lot of money."

"Yeah, it's gone better than I could have ever hoped." she agreed "I'll never be able to thank you enough."

Harlan waved away her comment and looked back over his shoulder. Katie followed his gaze and saw the man that had caused all the trouble between her and Steve, leaning at the bar. He was dressed in a smart, pin striped suit, his hair slicked back and his jaw clean shaven as ever.

"He came then." she said, and Harlan turned back to her giving a low chuckle.

"Yes, you made quite an impression on him. I've never heard of him donating money to a charity before." he mused

"Probably guilty he behaved like an ass hole." she said, before she shook her head "Sorry, that was rude."

"No more than he deserves." Harlan sighed "The sad thing is, he's not a bad man underneath it all. I see a lot of myself in him, just wish he would apply himself better to something. I've even tried to get him involved in the publishing company but he just isn't interested. Suppose you can't polish a turd."

Katie let out a huge snort of laughter at the phrase tumbling from the old man's lips and he gave her a large grin from behind his white beard as she shook her head "Now that's a quote for your next book."

Harlan chuckled again before Tony appeared by her side with a glass of champagne.

"Mr Stark." Harlan shook his hand as Tony smiled at him.

"Mr Thrombey, pleasure." he said, before he turned to Katie "Where's Spangles?"

"Busy." she said simply. Tony arched an eyebrow at him and she gave him a look, which he met with one of his own.

"Doing what?"

"Stuff."

"Wow, yeah, that stuff...it's...a pain..." Tony said, and Katie gave him a glare before she glanced around and Harlan struck up a chat with Tony about the latest Stark Industries initiative into wind farms. Natasha caught her eye and she excused herself and wandered over but as she was crossing the room, Ransom stepped into her path.

"Mr Drysdale." she looked at him "No tatty sweater?"

He gave a huff of a laugh "No, I only wear the cable knit on special occasions."

"Good to know." she raised an eyebrow.

"So where's your guard dog?" he asked, looking around.

"If you mean Steve, he's otherwise engaged." she said, shrugging "No doubt he'll be along later."

"Well in that case can I get you a drink?"

"It's a free bar."

"Yes, but I can still get you one."

"I'm good thanks." she waved the half full flute in her hand. "Now if you'll excuse me for a second, I need to speak to someone."

"Oh, Doll, I thought we left things on better terms." he sighed, placing his hand over his heart, looking at her. Katie cocked her head to one side, before she flashed him a grin.

"I doubt you're capable of leaving it on good terms with any girl you cross paths with."

"Never had any complaints." he smirked. At that Katie snorted.

"Well you can't be meeting with the right women." she said simply, and with that she moved past him, and headed over to Natasha who was beckoning her over.

"Everything ok?" she asked and Natasha nodded.

"Yup.I just got you a surprise." she smiled.

"A surprise?" Katie frowned.

"Seeing as its a special occasion." Natasha continued, linking her arm through Katie's. She led her through to the entrance of the Marquee where a familiar face was stood talking to Evans, Sam and Wanda,

"S'up Nova?" Clint grinned at her as she gave a laugh and threw herself at him.

"What are you doing here?" she spluttered as he released her, stepping back slightly.

"Couldn't miss your big event." he smiled "You look great. Where's Cap?"

"In the dog house." Nat spoke before Katie could. Katie sighed and shot Natasha a look before she turned back to Clint.

"Don't wanna talk about it." she shook her head. "Now, come on, fill me in...how are the kids? Laura?"

She didn't miss the look that Wanda, Sam and Natasha shared but chose to ignore it as she steered Clint towards the bar for a well overdue catch up.

*****

Steve drained his glass and poured himself another measure. Katie had been gone for just under two hours now and his mood was rapidly growing worse. More so because deep down he knew this was his own stupid fault. Because of his inability to keep his, albeit in his opinion justified, issue about Ransom fucking Drysdale to himself, his wife was now going through probably one of the biggest nights of her life without him there. And what made it worse was that smarmy bastard was there, probably eyeing her up, like he had done at the last gala, making some dickhead comment or other which he would no doubt weasel his way out of by sending another cheque for a ludicrous amount. Steve hated that, people that thought money made everything ok. And what was worse, it seemed to have placated Katie as well. He took a mouthful of his drink, the burn in his throat pleasantly distracting him for a moment, before he stared at the TV.

No, fuck this... this was his wife, his damned compound.

Necking his drink he stood up, the liquor giving him a pleasant buzz, before he strode into the bedroom, stripping off his sweater and jeans before he pulled his suit out of the closet. Slipping his arms into his shirt, he buttoned it up before expertly tying the tie Katie had bought him in a double Windsor, before grabbing his jacket. Once one he straightened his hair, slipped on his shoes he headed out of the door, making his way out of the side of the building, striding over to the marquee which was buzzing with people.

"Oh here he is." Sam grinned at him "You're a brave man, Cap."

"Shut up Sam." he said, rolling his eyes.

Sam chuckled as Evans raised an eyebrow. "Should I check he's on the list?" he drawled, his Texan accent thick.

"I think Katie crossed him off." Sam teased.

"Hilarious." Steve deadpanned, stepping past them into the Marquee. His eyes quickly roved the crowd and he did a double take as he saw Clint with Natasha and Wanda at the bar. He'd had no idea the archer was coming, but right now he was looking for his wife, the reunion could wait. He continued to scan the Marquee and he spotted her and then felt his jaw clench as he saw she was stood with him. As he watched he saw her say something and she tipped her head back in genuine laughter, and touched his arm before she shook her head, and turned to someone else who had attracted her attention. Giving a nod she looked back to Ransom and he nodded, as she walked away.

"Spangles." Tony greeted appearing at his side. "What's going on?"

"Ask your sister." he said, his voice stony. "I need a fucking drink."

With that he strode over to the bar. Ordering himself a large scotch he turned to look for Katie again, but there was no sign of her. With a nod of acknowledgment to the guy behind the bar he took his drink and turned to look back over the room. He spotted a few familiar faces from the compound and the tower, nodding towards Pepper as she smiled at him. Tony looked at him again before he turned away, and then his eyes fell on Ransom who was stood with his grandfather. Ransom grinned at him, and Steve simply glared back, before he turned to greet Clint who had now appeared behind him.

"Hey Cap." Clint smiled, and Steve returned his grin, shaking his hand.

"Hey Clint, didn't know you were coming."

"No one did, bar Nat. Thought it would be a nice surprise for Nova."

"Sure she was thrilled." 

"Am I sensing a little trouble in paradise?" Clint asked, and Steve scoffed.

"You could say that." he shrugged, before he sighed "I said something before, that was out of order and now she's giving me the cold shoulder. Told me not to come actually but..."

"But here you are." Natasha said, leaning on the bar besides him "You're either dumb, got a death wish...or maybe both."

"Romanoff, just don't." he turned to look at her, and she smirked before ordering herself a martini. "How long has Drysdale been here?"

"Who?" Cint frowned.

"The smarmy looking asshole in the pinstriped suit." he said, nodding towards him.

"About an hour.." Nat said, "I'm not sure."

"An hour too long." Steve muttered, taking a mouthful of his drink.

"Are you seriously that bothered by him?" she turned to look at him. Steve didn't reply.

"Clearly." Clint said, "Who is he?"

"Harlan Thrombey's Grandson." Natasha explained "Harlan wrote the book that the SIP published and donated all the profits to the Relief Fund."

"And you don't like him?"

"They had a little run in Boston..." Nat smirked. "And then at the Launch..."

"It wasn't a run in." Steve shook his head "He was absolutely vile to Katie..."

"And she's over it..." Natasha sighed

Steve didn't reply, he simply watched Drysdale for a second before he turned his attention to the stage where Tony was now tapping the microphone. The Marquee fell silent and Tony grinned out.

"And once again I find myself the centre of attention." he grinned, and the room chuckled. "But tonight isn't about me, for once, yes I know, I know..."

He continued to talk for a few minutes, thanking everyone for coming before he grew serious and took a deep breath.

"As you will all know, the past 6 months Stark Independent Publishers has been working, in partnership with a number of Women's Charities which are close to all of us in and around Stark Industries, and the Avengers for personal reasons as you will be well aware. We are seconds away from announcing our final fundraising total, so without further ado I'd like to hand you over to my little sister, who's been the brains behind this from the very start. Kiddo, the stage is all yours."

As he stepped back the Marquee erupted into applause and  Katie walked up the steps to the stage, her face beaming as Tony swept her into a hug. She grinned at him as he kissed her cheek and she headed to the microphone.

"Thanks Tone." she smiled, "That was short and sweet and actually very to the point, for once." a few chuckles rang around and Steve simply watched his wife as she started running through what they'd been doing and how they'd been raising money, her passion and enthusiasm shining out of every inch of her body. As he stood still, he felt all the anger eb out of his body and instead it was filled with an overwhelming sense of pride. Katie finished her speech before she stepped back and turned to take an envelope from Happy who bent and kissed her cheek.

"So although I know the sales figures from our book, the rest of this is a surprise to me, as much as it is to you." she smiled, and then her eyes locked with Steve's. She gave a little surprised frown, and then her face softened slightly as he smiled at her and she gave him the faintest of smiles back, before she averted her gaze and grinned as Tony let out a loud yell.

"Drumroll please...."

Katie laughed as the tent was filled with the sounds of people banging on things, and stomping their feet. Steve watched as she opened the envelope and pulled out the card. Her eyes widened as she read the total and her mouth dropped open.

"Shit." she spluttered, and the Marquee chuckled whilst she composed herself. "Sorry but...my God this is..." she swallowed and looked at Tony for a moment before she shook her head "According to this, the donations, sales...we've raised over £14.5 million."

"Holy shit!" Steve heard Natasha splutter as his own mouth dropped open, and he joined in the cheering.

"This is amazing, but this also isn't the end of it. Stark Industries will be doubling this total and all profits from the sales of "The Colour of Revenge" will continue to be donated..." she said, sniffing slightly and Steve could see she was getting emotional. He set down his glass on the bar and started to make his way over to the stage. "This money will save lives, give women a safe place to go when they've no one else to turn to. Thank you, thank you all for your overwhelming generosity. Now, please enjoy the evening and the entertainment and if any of you want to give us any more money, please feel free."

At that she stepped back and Steve waited for her at the bottom of the stage steps, the applause ringing in his ears. He offered her his arm and she paused for a second.

"Oh come on sweetheart" he said gently. She allowed him to help her down before she turned to him

"I told you not to come."

"Honey, this was your big night.I didn't want you to do this alone."

"There's a marquee of people."

"You know what I mean." he said gently "I'm sorry, you know I am. Please don't let's fight now, I hate it."

"I don't want to do this here" she said, her tone soft "Not now Steve.”

"Ok." he said, leaning down to give her a soft kiss. She didn't turn away, which he took as encouraging "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you." she smiled softly, "Now, sorry, but I have to go give an interview but..."

"Sure, come find me when you're done."

She nodded, and headed away from him towards someone he didn't recognise, presumably some journalist. His eyes still on her back as she walked away, he felt slightly buoyed by her seemingly thawing towards him, so with a slight spring in his step he headed back to the bar. He ordered another drink, and had just taken it when a familiar voice drawled at him, and he instantly felt himself bristle.

"She's one hell of a woman your wife."

"What do you want Drysdale?" he asked, turning to the man.

"Nothing, I was just paying her a compliment."

"Well don't" he glared at the man "And if you value your life, keep your eyes and your damned hands to yourself."

Ransom let out a snort "What you gonna do, throw me over the bar again?”

"Don't tempt me."

"We both know you're not gonna make a scene here, not with all these people around, because that really would piss your wife off." he leaned on the bar, looking around. "And then she'd have to send me another coat and a crate of snacks."

"What are you talking about?" Steve frowned.

"Oh dear, didn't you know?" Ransom smirked "Yeah, after I sent her the cheque and her knife back, she responded with a very nice coat and a couple of months supply of cookies."

Steve's nostrils flared as he looked at Ransom, then over to his wife and back again. "Are you shitting me?"

Ransom shook his head. "And they tasted all the more sweeter coming from her, if you know what I mean."

"You smug, son of a bitch..." Steve stepped forwards, and a hand settled on his arm.

"Cap." Sam spoke "Don't..."

"Yeah Cap..." Ransom drawled, sipping his drink.

Steve shrugged Sam's hand off his arm and glared at Ransom, the look on the man's face was infuriating him. "Make one more wise crack I swear to God..."

"I don't believe it."

Steve's head snapped to the side and he saw Katie glaring at him.

"Katie..."

"You just can't help it can you?" she shook her head. "And I thought you were genuinely sorry."

"To be fair..." Sam began to defend Steve but she held her hand up.

"I don't wanna hear it." she said, shaking her head. "I'm done..."

With that she turned and strode away.

"Oops. " Ransom said, simply, picking up his glass. With a final look at Steve, he headed off back towards his grandfather.

"Well played." Sam said, sarcastically, clapping Steve on the shoulder. Steve took a deep breath before he drained his glass and turned, leaving the tent.

******

It was pushing one in the morning when Katie got back to their living quarters. Steve was sat outside on their patio, the bottle of Asgardian shit on the table in front of him but thanks to his super hearing he knew she'd entered the room. Standing up, grabbing the drink, he moved into the doorway, leaning on it as she shut the door, shoes in her hand. She turned around and stopped when she saw him, eyeing him for a moment, taking in his appearance. His tie was loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up and she could tell from the look in his eyes he was drunk.

"You came back then?" he said, his words slightly slurred.

"Where else would I go?" she snarked back.

"I dunno, maybe to order Drysdale another coat or some cookies." he said, necking the drink that was in his hand before he set the glass down on the dining table that stood in front of him.

"Seriously, that's...that's what all that was about?" she shook her head "God you're an ass hat."

"An ass hat." he mused, pouring himself another measure of drink.

"Yes, an ass hat." she said, swaying a little on the spot. Fuck she was drunk as well, she'd ended up doing shots at the bar with Clint and Evans, never a wise move.

"Well I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment." he shrugged.

"Oh fuck off Steve." she sighed, "I'm going to bed."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, and she stopped, turning round.

"What about?"

"Your present to Ransom?"

"Because I didn't think it was important, it was just a joke."

"Fucking hilarious."

"No, you know what is hilarious? This..." she said, gesturing to him, a little unsteadily "You getting all fucking het up about a damned coat and some cookies. Now who's being ridiculous?"

"I saw you." he said, "When I first got there, you had your hand on his arm, laughing at him..."

"Oh Jesus Christ Steve..." she groaned. "I was talking to him, he was telling me something about his uncle!"

"You were all over him"

"Do you want me to go and fuck him or something?" Katie asked, "Because if that's gonna make you happy, just to prove a point."

"Don't be fucking stupid."

"Well shut up then!" she yelled back. "Sometimes I wonder what the hell goes on in your head. I love you, you know I do. I don't want or need anyone else but at times you irritate the shit out of me."

"The feeling is mutual doll."

"Good, glad we agree on something." she said, shaking her head. "I'm going to bed. You carry on drinking yourself into a stupor."

"I'm not done."

"And you can sleep on the sofa."

"Like fuck I am!"

"Fine, I'll sleep on the sofa then." she shrugged

"You're such a fucking brat."

"Me?" she laughed "I'm the brat? You've behaved like a prize prick Steven, and I'm so fucking pissed at you I can't even..."

With that she turned and headed towards the bedroom.

"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you." he said, stepping into the room.

"Or what?" she spun round, "What you gonna do..."

"Oh Doll, you have no idea how much you're pushing me tonight." he said, his voice low.

"Really Steve, how many fucking buttons am I pushing? Hmmm?" she leaned against the wall. "Do enlighten me."

"You know it's no wonder Ward cheated on you." he slurred, "If you were like this with him then..."

Whack!

Something sharp hit him in the temple and he dropped the glass he was holding, staggering back slightly. He glanced at the floor and saw that she had launched her shoe at him, her aim impeccable as ever. He raised his hand to his forehead, feeling the wet trickle of blood under his finger. It wasn't a lot, she'd only nicked the skin but it was enough to sober him up slightly, and the words he had just spitefully spat at her echoed in his head.

"Katie..."

"You are the biggest fucking..." she spoke, her chest heaving, "Actually I don't even have a word to describe what you are right now."

"You hit me with a shoe." he said simply.

"Yeah, want me to do it again?" she asked, waving the one that was still in her hand.

"Don't."  he said softly, shaking his head "Look, I'm..."

"Oh save it." she said, turning and walking into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Steve's hands fell to his hips, as he looked down at his feet. What the fuck was wrong with him? That was twice today he'd said something so despicable it made his toes curl even thinking about it. He'd been a grade A asshole, and he needed to make this right.

"Katie..." he strode after her, and headed into the bedroom. The en-suite door was shut and he could hear her sobbing in the bathroom. Fuck. "Honey I'm sorry."

"Piss off." she sniffled.

"Open the door baby, please."

"No..."

"Don't make me break it down. You know how precious Tony gets about us breaking things”

His joke fell flat as she remained silent. "Sweetheart..."

"Where did you learn to be so spiteful?" She yelled back through the door.

“I don’t know.” with a sigh he leaned against the door "I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of those things..."

"But you did." she sobbed, and Steve felt the tears prick his eyes "Why?"

"I was angry, and..." he took a deep breath "I guess I wanted to piss you off as much as you pissed me off."

"I pissed you off?" she snorted "Steve you came at me before with that comment about fucking Hyrda and now Ward...could you be any more nasty?"

"I know, I know..." he said, "Honey, I've no excuse. Please, open the door."

There was a sniffle on the side and he heard her the swish of her dress as she moved. The lock on the door clicked and it opened a chink. He pushed it further and look at her, her mascara was streaked down her cheeks, her hair was messy from where she had clearly been fisting her hands in it and he instantly felt the pang of guilt and regret in his chest tighten even more. "Oh baby girl..." his voice cracked "I'm so sorry...I really am."

"How could you even think for one minute that I’d even look at that jerk in that way?"

"I don't not really" he said, shaking his head. "I'm an ass hole, a jealous ass hole...I just, sometimes I can't believe..." he stopped, and shook his head "You know what, it doesn't matter. I was out of order."

She paused and looked at him, sniffing. "You can't believe what?"

"Honestly, it doesn't matter."

"For fucks sake, Steve!" she spluttered "Stop it!"

"I can't believe that you, well that you chose me you know?" he sighed, his hand running through his hair "I just..."

"You're a dick." she shook her head. "I married you, you ass hole."

"I know, and I wonder why sometimes."

"So you've been a spiteful bastard because you feel insecure?"

"No, well, partly..." he sighed "Look, seeing you before with him and then he he told me about the box and stuff...I just saw red."

She looked at him and shook her head "That is not an excuse."

"I know it isn't." he looked at her "I know."

She looked at him for a moment before she shook her head and walked out of the bathroom, over to her vanity table, sitting down. She pulled out the wipes and began scrubbing at her face, removing her make-up. He sat on the edge of the bed, in the same position he had a few hours ago and simply watched her. Eventually, when she was happy her face was clean she looked up and he saw her eyes travel over his reflection before she frowned.

"You're bleeding" 

"Well, you're a damned good shot" he shrugged. "And those heels are sharp."

She stood up and turned, stepping into the space between his legs.

"Honey it's..."

"Shut up" she instructed.

Knowing he had pushed his luck already he did as he was told and she gently wipe at the cut on his temple, his hands falling to her hips as she did so. He was pleased to see she didn't push him away. He watched her intently as she cleaned his face.

"I think you’ll live" she said gently, tossing the wipe into the waste basket. His hands flexed on her hips and she looked at him.

"I really am sorry." he said again "I love you, so fucking much. At times I just don't know how to deal with it."

"By not being a cunt."

"Wow." he snorted "Did you just drop the c-bomb?"

"Justified." she muttered, her hands falling to his shoulders "Damned it Steve!"

"I know, I know." he said his hands, smoothing down the back of her thighs.

“I love you too, so much it hurts at times.” she shook her head “You know the amount of women that look at you in such a way I know what they’re thinking but...I get over it, you know? Because you married me and...” she let out a deep breath. “You go ballistic whenever I question how you feel about me compared to Peggy and yet you come out with the stuff you said today.”

Steve looked down at the floor, his hands still curved around her legs “I know. My ma would be ashamed.”

Katie took a deep breath before she moved her hand and tilted his face up to look at her. His eyes were shining with tears and she let out a sigh, dropping a kiss to his forehead as her hand slid round the back of his neck, nails dragging over his skin.

“I love you.” she muttered “You big, dumb idiot.”

They stayed silent for a moment and Steve looked up at her, smiling softly.

 "You know you really looked amazing tonight. I'm just sorry I didn't get chance to appreciate it more."

"Well..." she took a deep breath. "I know I didn't let you help me into my dress...but you can help me out of it if you want?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, a smile flickering across his face " Yeah?" he asked, gracefully rising to his feet.

She nodded, biting her lip. He leaned down to give her a soft kiss before he whispered against her mouth "Turn around."

She did as she was told and Steve reached for the zip on her dress, sliding it down gently, his fingertips brushing her skin as he did so, allowing the dress to fall at her feet and he let out a soft moan as he glanced down, seeing that she was braless. His hands gently guided hers up so they reached back around his neck, and he swallowed at the sight of her presented to him. One hand moved down, splayed on her stomach, pulling her back into him as the other swept her hair out of the way as his head dipped, trailing kisses across the back of her shoulders, before he made his way up her neck, his teeth softly grazing her ear. She let out a soft sigh, her head tilting to one side as his lips continued caressing her soft skin, the hand that was on her belly started slowly to make its way downwards, sneaking beneath the waistband of her panties. His fingers gently parted her folds, and she gave a little gasp as he began to coax her softly, his other hand reaching up to caress her breasts, gently kneading before he pulled on her hardening nipple. She arched her back into him slightly, a breathy gasp escaping her as he continued to tease her, his mouth hot on her neck.

"Like that?" his own voice was raspy, his arousal evident in his tone and she gave a nod.

"Don't stop..." she begged, and his fingers began to work faster against her nub, the hand on her breast also picking up the pace slightly.

"You're so beautiful…” he whispered and she moaned and writhed in delight at his praise and his actions as he worked her over. With a quick flick of his wrist, he pushed two fingers into her and curled them against her spot and her head fell back even further into him as she let out a soft whimper of his name, his hands upping their pace slightly as she began to buck into his touch. She arched her back, her mouth fell open and then her head rolled forward as she came, knees trembling, her hands pulling at his hair. He held her up in his strong arms and whilst she was still in the after throws of bliss he nipped at her neck, drawing a soft groan from her mouth. Steve gently turned her round and lifted her up, placing her gently on the bed, kneeling over her as he discarded his shirt, tie by which point she had recovered slightly and sat up, her hands pulling at his belt buckle.  He leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep kiss, and he grinned against her mouth as she whipped the belt from around his waist, tossing it to the floor before she undid the button on his pants, pushing them down over his hips along with his boxers.  Once he had shimmied out of his remaining clothes, he fell over her again, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her hard, using his leg to part hers. With a sharp thrust that made her cry out, he sank into her, his lips back on hers, as he stilled for a moment, grinding up against her. Her head fell back against the pillow and he started to drive into her, his thrusts hard, deep and he moved his mouth down to kiss and lick and suck all along her shoulders, knowing full well he would leave marks there for the morning but neither of them cared as their moans grew louder as his thrusts grew more desperate.

“Fuck.” he groaned, both hands now on her hips as he continued his movements, looking down at her as her breasts bounced as her body moved with every slam he made into her. Her hands moved from where they had been gripping at his biceps to bracing herself  against the headboard, causing her to push back against him, allowing him to push deeper. As her breathing adopted the tell tale staccato rhythm, he moved one hand  to the back of her head and he used it to make her look up, her eyes locking onto his as he felt her body start to quiver.

“Come on doll…” he practically growled “let go for me…”

It wasn’t like she had a choice. She never did when it came to this. Her pupils were blown now with lust and desire and after another 3, 4 hard thrusts her back arched and her hands flew to his back, nails scratching at his skin. He hissed at the bite of pain, dropping his mouth to capture hers as she moaned again, this moan broken as she bucked upwards and clutched at him desperately.

“Stevie…” she moaned and her walls tightened on him as she came hard, and the feel of her tightening and pulsing around him tipped him him ferociously over the edge after her, his hips stuttering as he gave into the wave of pleasure with an incoherent babble of her name, before he tipped forward, falling onto her, his face buried in her neck.

The pair of them lay still, the only sounds in the bedroom now were the deep, ragged drawings of breath. Katie gently ran her hands through his hair, as she always did, relishing his weight on top of her. This was the only way she could ever lift Steve, his body on top of hers rising and falling through the movements of her deep breathing.  Eventually he raised his head and pressed their foreheads together, his nose sliding up and down hers gently.

"I love you." he whispered "You know that, right?"

"Of course I do." she sighed, looking at him "But Steve, you really did behave like a jerk." "I know, and I'm sorry." he said, his hands moving to brush her hair back. "I really am." "I know you are." she said, her hand gently running down the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes slightly, allowing her touch to relax him even further. "I don't understand why you think I would even want anyone else." "Well, I guess you can take me out of that little kid that got his ass kicked all over Brooklyn, but you can't take that little kid out of me." he sighed, his head hanging slightly as he shook it letting out a deep sigh.

She considered him for a moment before she leaned up and gave him a soft kiss "I love you, Steven Grant Rogers, not Captain America." "I know Doll." he nodded "I know." With a gentle movement he pulled out of her and pushed the covers of the bed down, before he rolled onto his back, as she scooted over to him, her head laying on his chest, one of her legs pushing through his as she snuggled closer. He pulled the duvet over them and reached over to hit the switch which would cut the lights in the room.

"This doesn't mean I've forgiven you." she said softly as his hand carded through her hair, his chest warm against her cheek as it gently rose and fell with his breathing.

"I wouldn't dream of suggesting it does." he chuckled slightly kissing her head "I'm not that stupid" "Jury's out." she yawned slightly, the arm that was draped around his waist gave him a squeeze and he pulled her closer nuzzling into her hair.

It wasn't long before he felt her relax and he glanced down, just able to make out in the dim light that her eyes were shut. He watched her face for a moment, the face he could draw from memory, and had done as a matter of fact several times, an let out a deep breath. She was right, he was an ass hole, and at times he knew he didn't deserve her. But she loved him and wanted him, and damned it he'd try and be worthy of that love and want every damed day for the rest of his life.

"I love you so much doll." he whispered into her hair.

"Love you to Soldier..." she muttered back, her face pressing further into his chest. With a smile he dropped a kiss on her head, closing his eyes as he felt the tendrils of sleep pulling at him, happy that they were going to be ok, not that he doubted that for a second not, really They'd come through far worse after all, and like his Ma always used to tell him.

Tomorrow is another day after all.

[tastyliltina]

Splintered (VORE)

A/N:  FINALLY got finished with an art trade between me and fubardish *cries*. Writing big bit hard today and I’m super happy to have gotten something done!! Got to use one of my newer chars, Kenny, too! Which is always a blast tbh!! I love writing with my sassy little spitfire~. Flams belongs to Kubes, and Kenny is mine!!  

If you want a story like this for yourself, check out my commission page!:   Want a story like this for yourself?  Check out my commission page!  tinascommissions.carrd.co/

“Ah, here we go!”

The tiny voice caught Flams’ attention. Flams felt a sharp tug, and groaned as a painful pressure eased. His tongue moved to the swollen area, bumping against a small figure. He caught a tang of blood, intertwined with the pleasant flavor of chocolate, and sighed as something warm and alive moved back across his tongue, eventually to his teeth, and out. Finally, he could close his lips-and he did. His tongue grazed every bit of his mouth it could, and he hummed as he enjoyed the last of the warm and mocha-like taste.

“Thanks, Miss Chris…” Flams murmured. A hand moved to his chin, rubbing the swollen and scruffy skin. He glanced to the slobber-soaked figure on the counter, and to the impressive tree branch at her side. He’d had that in his gums all day? No wonder it had been so painful��

“And this is why we don’t eat trees,” snarked another voice. Flams’ expression flattened as he looked to Kenny, sitting in a guest chair beside his cot. He rolled to face the human, raising a brow at her.

“There’s plenty of other things I could eat, y’know,” he smirked, smiling like he normally did. It felt good to smile-since the splinter incident, it had been hard to get his mouth to cooperate. His gaze fell to his little savior, and he sat up in the cot. “Uh-is there anything else I need to do for this?”

Chris, who had seemed to busy herself at a computer on the countertop walkway turned. Flams squinted, but even then he couldn’t make out what the screen said...granted, it was the size of a fingernail to him-perks of being a giant.

The human vet tilted her head, then shrugged. “If you’d like, you can ice the side of your face to help with that swelling...and try to not eat anything crunchy or tough for a few days. Other than that, there’s not much to do.” Shrugging, the brunette faced away from Flams, and clicked the screen on the tiny laptop. “But um, if you must know-“ Chris turned to Flams, a mischevious grin on her face. “eating humans, safely of course, is a viable option. As long as they don’t have sharp weapons,” she grinned.

Kenny bolted upright, staring at Chris bewilderingly. “Wh-the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” The darker-skinned woman snapped.

“Flams knows what I mean~,” Chris hummed, and Flams nodded. He knew exactly what Chris meant...and was surprised she knew that was his next question. Though, he guessed she’d had an idea he enjoyed a temporary human snack..., considering she’d spent the last twenty minutes in his mouth….and by how much he’d drooled.

“Noted~,” Flams crooned. Much to Kenny’s chagrin. Before she could give Chris a hard time though, Flams reached out and nabbed the feisty human by her jacket. “Come on, toffee~. Now that I’m all better,” he bought the writing human closer to his face, grinning, “we can have some fun~.”

“GOD DAMNIT!” Kenny roared, but she didn’t have much choice as Flams lowered her into his free hand. He cupped it around her and moved to leave. But...he thought better of it. Instead, Flams made a loose fist around Kenny, ensuring the human couldn’t get away while he signed out. He walked to the raised platform, where Chris was busy at a laptop.

“Thanks again for the help, miss Chris. I’ll see you around-...maybe get a proper taste without the splinter.” Flams smiled, and chuckled as he stepped out.

~~

Kenny scowled. She glared at the walls of skin around her, scowled at the dimly lit interior of Flams’ fist. Dappled light shone shone through the gaps in Flams’ fingers, enough for her to see...but not enough for her to peek at anything around the digits. Stupid giant-she punched against his hand, though it did little good. His hand remained curled up, keeping her perfectly trapped inside the warm and humid space. It smelled like smoke. Most of Flams did, but the ashen scent was almost impossible to ignore so close to the big guy.

She glanced up as Flams spoke, from the sounds of it to the clerk at the front desk. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the palm of his hand, sneering as though Flams could see it. He couldn’t… Giant ginger bastard.

But, soon enough, Kenny felt her organic cage shift. Flams’ fingers remained curled around her, but the sway of his footsteps loosened their grip just a bit. Kenny kicked a foot out, bracing herself as the fire giant made his way wherever he was going. Kenny heard a door chime, and close, felt the air become heavy and warm. She sighed. Maybe now the big guy would let her go…

He didn’t. At least, not at first. Kenny was trapped in Flams’ fist for a while, she couldn’t tell how long-save by the sweat dribbling down her brow. Flams’ hands were always so warm… It was a good feeling, being so toasty, but she was getting tired of the leathery sight of skin and fingers.

“Hey!” She barked. “Are you gonna let me out at some point, asshat?”

Flams’ hand shifted, slowly unfurling before light spilled in. Kenny squinted, shielding her eyes as the fingers spread out, leaving her in the open air. She scowled. “‘Bout time…”

“Oh, don’t act so smug yet~.”

Kenny blinked, glancing up at Flams. His lips were parted in his telltale grin, and a mischievous glint in his eyes made Kenny shrink back. He was planning something. Shit.

“Now, since you decided to be such a bother at my appointment….” slowly, the living platform lowered. Kenny sat up as Flams’ hand settled onto the ground, leaving Flams kneeling over her. “We’re gonna play a little game~.” Flams’ palm dipped. Kenny slid onto the ground, grunting before she pushed herself up and glared up at the redhead.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning...you better start runnin’, toffee~.” His grin broke into something more predatory, and Kenny didn’t need an explanation for that expression. It was hungry. The kind of look that meant if she didn’t book it, she’d end up being lunch.

“Oh...oh fuck you!” Kenny sneered as she whirled. She darted towards what looked like a treeline, hating how unfamiliar the area around her was. Hard to run when she didn’t know where she was going… Still, Kenny continued to sprint forwards. She didn’t bother looking back. Flams always gave her a head start-only fair; he’d take a few footsteps to catch up.

~~

Flams watched the little human run, crossing his arms. As rude, bitter, and fussy as Kenny was, Flams couldn’t help but like the little spitfire. She had fight. She had balls, more so than most humans he knew. But she was...reckless. There were things Kenny did, the way she carried herself that worried him. She almost had no concern for her safety. So...he figured it was good to put her in her place. Better her get it from him, someone who wouldn’t hurt her, rather than with a stranger.

Besides, he could never turn down a good chance for a wiggly snack~.

Humming, Flams rocked back on his heels, looking to the sky with a frown. It was getting late...he wouldn’t drag this out too long. Just enough for bedtime to roll around. Having Kenny as a midnight snack was always fun~. Even if his stomach paid for it the next morning. Tiny punches were painful after a while… A hand brushed his chin, thoughtful. Maybe he could make some nice stew to try and amend any teasing...and prevent Kenny from giving him another temporary tattoo somewhere regrettable.

With a smirk, he stepped forwards. That was enough time. Flams closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. His feet turned, leading him in the direction of a familiar smell. Coffee cake. Rich, bitter, and all Kenny. Eyes opened, Flams began his trek to track the little human down.

Flams always forgot how fun it was to hunt until he was in the act… Something about following the twisting, winding trail of smells awoke something in him. Reminded him of something he’d been missing. Something primal. Granted, hunting a friend was a lot different than hunting a deer, or an animal. Friends were special. Friends were tasty. But they weren’t food. Kneeling, Flams parted a group of trees, peering through the branches before letting them return to their settled position. He was getting close.

He brushed his hands off, pursed his lips. Chuckling, Flams let the words of a spell roll off his tongue. Nothing special, just something to help him sneak around a little better. It was hard to ambush someone who could feel your footsteps a mile away. Besides, Kenny’s reactions were so much more fun when she was surprised, and Flams loved it when she shrieked at him~.

~~

Kenny pressed herself into the bark of the tree, head snapping in the direction of any sound. She hated this. Hated it when Flams pulled this shit; why was it her responsibility to entertain the big bastard?! Hands curled into fists, Kenny snorted. It wasn’t like she enjoyed this….enjoyed being treated like a snack. Even if Flams kept an eye out for her; and if being eaten wasn’t so bad, once she got over the smug smiles, teasing, and slime.

“God damned bastard,” she growled. Kenny leaned to one side, peering out over the canopy of leaves. They swished with a warm wind, shifting the fragmented light around her. She sighed. Slowly, she peeled herself from the tree, and moved to the next one. Like before, she kept her back pressed against the bark. It felt good to have something at her back. Felt safer.

The further she moved along, the more paranoid Kenny became. She hadn’t felt the ground shame in a few minutes. Flams liked to stop and think, she knew that much but he didn’t take this long. Right? Did he take this long normally? Kenny growled, shaking her head. Needed to stop getting caught in her thoughts and focus on getting the hell away.

She ran to another tree. Back pressed to it. A part of her knew she was only dragging out the inevitable. Still, she kept going. Moving from tree to tree, pressing herself against each one as she went. Waiting. Listening.

Kenny wasn’t sure how many trees she’d moved between when she felt it. Eyes on her back. She whipped around, eyes widening at the sight of two golden abysses. Eyes. They flickered mischievously, the black pit of Flams’ pupils honing in on her.

“FUCKING SHIT!” Kenny whirled on her ankle, prepped to sprint, but was stopped by a pair of hands. She smacked into one of them, scrabbles back, and was caught by the back of her shirt. A frustrated yell escaped her as she was jerked into the air, legs kicking at the empty space before her. Soon enough, she was held in front of Flams’ grinning face, his lips pulling back in a smirk.

“Ooh, gotta watch that tongue, toffee…” Flams rumbled, his free hand moving to his waist. “Don’t wasn’t that bitterness makin’ you taste fowl, now…”

“Kiss my ass, red,” Kenny snapped. She lifted her hand, giving Flams a full display of her middle finger.

“Ouch, oh, my frail feelings,” his hand moved to his chest. The sarcasm made Kenny’s eyes roll. “Really, I’m hurtin’, kid.”

“Ain’t your kid.”

“No...but you can be my treat~.”

Kenny glared at him. The giant licked his lips, making a point to pull them back so she could see. She hissed, legs and arms flailing as Flams’ fingers brought her closer to his face. Kenny came to a swinging stop over Flams’ face, and her chin dropped to sneer at him.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t~,” Flams purred. His fingers loosened a tad, dropping Kenny ever so closer to his maw. She yelped, tried to pull herself up and away from those teeth and what lay beyond. The pressure at her back loosened. Kenny gasped, only given a moment’s peace before she dropped.

Her arms windmilled, legs fought the air. The air got hot, heavy, and she smacked into something sticky. Before she could place up front down, Kenny rolled backwards, only stopping when the ground lifted under her. She untangled her limbs from their awkward position, instincts digging her hands and feet into the tongue beneath her. There was a moment of peace. Kenny caught her breath, then launched herself forwards.

Before she could get very far, the ground lurched under her. Kenny face planted, grunted, and groaned as the living bed of muscle raised her to the top of Flams’ mouth. She squirmed, trying to push the invasive tastebuds away as Flams got himself a taste. The ramping rumbled around her served to show Flams was enjoying himself. Dumb, stupid, giant red headed bastard.

Kenny sputtered. Flams’ tongue lifted up, the tip running along her face and drenching her in the drool pooling around her. She let out a hiss, slapping at it with a disgusted scowl. Already she felt the heat and drool slopping her bangs into her face, no doubt soaking through her bun...and her clothes.

Yet, despite herself...she tried to restrain her reactions. Kept her kicks close to her chest, her hands away from his gums. Flams’ mouth had been really sore at the doctor’s… No point in making things hell.

Flams’ tongue lifted again, arching downwards. Grimacing, Kenny rolled on her back. The arch opening to the back of the throat was getting closer, and she was sliding down fast. Breaths blasted like wind, gurgles of organs below joined their melody. It was the sound of her fate being sealed. Her legs scrabbled, trying to push herself up and away from the living cavern.

Kenny closed her eyes. There wasn’t a point trying to see now...not until she got where she was going. Her feet slid into an open space, the rest of her fell after. She landed with a grunt, and was promptly sucked down. Muscles squeezed in on her, squishing her arms and legs together, and forcing her down. Everything got tighter for a moment, and Kenny squirmed, knowing it was Flams pressing his fingers to his throat. To feel her. Bastard.

Another ripple of muscle yanked her down, tugging Kenny along like a child down a slide. If slides weren’t living, breathing, greedy giants. She growled, barely able to hear herself think around the chorus of Flams’ body around her. Breaths, organs, and the beating of his heart drowned out any sensible thought-until something grabbed her feet.

~~

Flams sighed as he felt Kenny’s weight plop into his stomach, a hand pressing against his middle. He chuckled, patting at the middle human as he murmured the proper spells. Couldn’t have Kenny suffocate or hurt...or have anything happen to her. Once the spells were finished, Flams dropped his hand.

“There now, that wasn’t so bad~,” Flams stretched and glanced around, figuring the best way to get home. He began the walk back once he found it, ignoring the little punches and kicks to his guts. Kenny’s steam never lasted long once she was tucked away. She’d fall asleep, pissed as ever, and let him get some rest.

Something itched at him. As he walked, Flams poked his middle. “You good in there?” After a pause, he heard a muffled voice.

“The fuck you mean?!”

“I mean,” Flams frowned, “ya’ weren’t as...kick-y as you usually are. Kinda felt like a noodle. You okay?”

It was quiet a moment. Then, there was an eruption of punches to his middle, and Flams’ nose wrinkled. Good to know she was fine now.

“I wasn’t-I was plenty kick-y!”

“Not really,” Flams frowned, scanning the tree line as he walked. He wondered how he looked, walking along and talking to no one. “You’re plenty fighty now, but earlier you weren’t.”

“I’m FINE!” Kenny’s voice was shrill. Much more so than normal...almost...embarrassed? Flams scratched his stomach. Odd. Why would she be so afraid to hide how much or little she was fighting? Shrugging, Flams sighed. He’d deal with that later. Kenny was fine, and back to her fighting spirit. For now, his only focus was getting a nap.

“Alright, whatever...just makin’ sure we didn’t need another doctor’s appointment or nothin’...” The sight of his cabin in the distant was a welcome one, though Flams made himself a note to visit that little vet again. She seemed sweet...in more ways than one. “I’ll letcha our after I get a nap, ‘kay?”

Flams didn’t get a response...didn’t expect one, either. But he smiled. What a day to get a splinter…

[jj-lynn21]

Roman & Princess: Castle in the Desert ch 2

Warnings: angst, smut: oral, Daddy kink, 

ch 1  ch 3  ch 4  ch 5

“All you want is here, Princess,” The voice echoes like its far away but large hands trickle down your arms. The arms then fall around you laying on your lower abdomen. Your skin crawls with goose bumps. “You need to be bound.” Your hands fly up in front of you. Wrists being bound with rope as you gasp.

You scream out waking in a cold sweat on the living room couch. You can hear Roman screaming at people he is video conferencing with in his office up stair. It is a comforting feeling for you just to know he is home, and everything is ok.

“Of course, I still have my fucking secretary,” Roman screams. “She should still have notes on that meeting somewhere.” Roman burst out of the office door. “Hey, Princess you want to come up here to join the meeting?” When he calls on you of course his voice is more respectfully.

You just have a hot pink V-neck t-shirt and dark denim jeans on, “do I look ok for a video meeting?”

“Half those fuckers aren’t even wearing pants,” Roman chuckles. “And Dorothy isn’t wearing a bra. The more I yell the more everyone can see her nipples hardening through her white dress shirt. I knew it always got her off when I went off on the others.”

You smirk while heading up stairs, “You shouldn’t tease the poor girl. She takes fine notes to update me on projects when I work.”

“So, you have the hots for her,” He grins, “and she has the hots for me. Maybe we invite her over to play?”

“You’d give the girl a heart attack,” You laugh as you get to where he is standing. “Now, what actual job do you need help with you horndog?”

“I’ll let Jared explain and you can prove him wrong since he won’t take my word.” Roman leads you into the office sitting down on the chair. Then he pulls you into his lap. “Fucking asshat,” Roman mumbles before turning the speaker back on from mute. “Jared I am sure my secretary can clear up things for you. She is meticulous in everything she does.”

“Of course, I can help with anything you need, Mr. Godfrey,” You are trying to sound more professional to over-compensate for Roman being a little unprofessional.

Roman moves your hair back. His nose nuzzling behind your ear. You do your best to keep a straight face as Jared claims Roman did not approve the distribution of N95 masks from Godfrey industries to the Hemlock Grove children’s hospital.

“Why would I not approve that you, fucktard,” Roman shoots at him. “It is fucking children’s lives at stake with cancer and shit that makes there fucking immunity shut down. I don’t care what you fuckers think about me. I’m not a fucking heartless monster.”

You open another window on the computer as quick as possible. “I got this Mr. Godfrey,” you type in some search terms in the box looking for both the video where to topic was discussed and a paper trail showing Roman signed something and sent it out to everyone who needed to see it. “Jared it looks like one week ago Roman discussed sending the masks out with the whole group. I will send everyone the video. Then he signed paperwork needed to approve the transaction. He sent the paperwork to all of you and the hospital telling them they could expect the masks in the few days. So, I understand why the hospital has messaged Roman with concerns why the much-needed masks are not there. I think you guys better get on that asap.”

“I’m not so sure about the rest of you fucking morons but she knows how to get shit done,” Roman praises you while belittling his staff. “And she gives great head.”

You blush, “Mr. Godfrey do you need me for anything else?”

Roman just nods yes. Snaps his fingers down low for you to kneel before him. You do. Look up at him. And bite your lip. Its not like they could see what you were doing, just see his reaction you supposed. He unzipped his zipper. You went about your other job as he did his best to continue his meeting. He runs his fingers through your hair.

“Dorothy, thank you for starting on the process for this last work.” Roman bites his lip closing his eyes a few seconds. “Just finish that work up fax what needs to be resigned and I will get it back asap. And the rest of you. Do your fucking job. Get those masks to the Doctors and nurses in need. I’m done” He leans back in the seat sucking his breath before letting out a moan. His free hand groping for the power switch on his computer. But they all heard him before the meeting disconnected. They knew or strongly suspected what was happening. And Roman fucking loved that.

“Fuck Princess you’re so powerful,” His hip thrust his cock to the back of your throat. “You showed those fuckers you’re their boss.” You make a choking sound. “Relax, Princess. Daddy’s just going to fuck your throat until he’s ready to cum.” He pulls your hair in his fist keeping you in place. “You know how much the Mr. Godfrey shit turns me on, Princess.”

You try to relax. Breath through your nose. Your arms wrapped around his thighs. Head bobby at his will. You know if its really to much all you need to do is squeeze the skin between his thighs. You are almost there. Your cheeks puffed out. His girth filling your mouth completely. His tip banging the back of your throat. Tears run down your face. Mouth really to full to truly whimper.

Roman has been watching you for the whole time. For those signs you give. The ones you are giving him right now. The tears he loves to see streaking down your face. The only thing that slightly annoys him is the damn water-proof mascara you started wearing so it does flow down your face with your tears, “hang in there, Princess. Fuck your such a good girl. Daddy’s going to get you something nice for this. Oh shit…”

He pulls out. You take a deep breath in and out. Roman cums on your bare chest and down the front of your shirt with a deep loud groan. You sit there catching your breath fully. Chest heaving.

“Fuck, yes yes…” Roman murmurs. His head back looking up at the ceiling. Eye wonky rolling to one side. The other stable.

Roman picks you up. “Let’s get you in the spa tub for a nice soak Princess. You want bubbles?”

You nod yes.

He sits you on the sink and draws your bath with lots of foamy bubbles. Strips your cloths off and tosses them in the sink. Then puts you in the bath. “I’ll rinse these, so they are easier to clean in the laundry. I know this is your favorite shirt. I’ll bring you some blood orange juice after I make that call to Bill. I want to leave for Vegas in a few hours.”

“That sounds good,” eyes closed laying against the tub pillow.

[lailannajacobs]

Empire of Angels | Part One

Pairing: Bucky x ofc!Amelie Novak

Summary: Amelie Novak moved from New York to Boston to escape a shitty ex and to get a killer story. She just didn’t realize she’d meant that literally. 

Warnings: none! 

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Technically this part has already been published under a different name, but it’s been seriously editied and changed with parts added so it’s quite different? Anyways, I’d love to know what you think! <3

Empire of Angels | Part One

“I need someone to go after ex-sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. You ever heard of him, Novak?”

Amelie nodded, but her boss Cary, kept going as if she hadn’t. Typical. It wasn’t like he took her any more seriously than an intern.

“He’s ex-military. Defected five years ago and has been working as a hitman ever since. I’m sure you must have heard of him. If the cops are right, then he’s to blame for over a dozen high profile kills since. I got a source telling me he’s in Boston, ‘bout to hit his next target. I want you to find him and get me killer story before anyone else even thinks about it. And before you say a thing, I know you’re a reporter, not a cop. But this could be huge for the Globe and I need someone on this.”

Like hell she would say anything. Cary was finally giving her a real story. When Amelie had moved - more precisely, run away - to Boston looking for a change, she hadn’t expected to get sidelined. She was a damned good reporter and everyone at the Times knew she was good at her job. So like hell she’d say a thing and ruin her chance at proving to her new employer that she was the best he had.

“Do you know who the intended target is?” She kept her voice clipped, professional like his favourite boys did.

Cary shook his head, “My source wouldn’t say. But I need to know you’re okay with this, Novak. He’s dangerous and cunning, practically a ghost. I don’t want you walking into this expecting peaches and roses like the rest of the stories you cover.”

Amelie almost mentioned that the reason all her other stories had been peaches and roses was because he wouldn’t let her cover anything hard hitting, but nodded instead, afraid to look anything other than absolutely capable.

“It’s no problem. This will be my number one priority. I won’t let you down,” She promised with conviction.

With a curt nod, he waved her out of the office, apparently satisfied. Amelie could barely contain her excitement, and purposefully slowed her walk toward the conference room door. Her curiosity got the best of her before she could walk out.

Glancing over her shoulder as nonchalantly as possible, she asked, “Why me?”

He kept his gaze on the papers he was now leafing through, “They told me when I hired you, that your biggest asset as a reporter is that you’re constantly being underestimated. I figured the best way to get to him was to send someone like you,” He paused and looked up at her, “Am I wrong?”

She shook her head.

“Didn’t think so. Now get to it, Novak. Somehow I doubt he’ll be here for long.”

Amelie left the conference room, unable to wipe the smile from her lips, ignoring the curious looks from her coworkers.

Staring at the computer screen, Amelie finally understood why Cary had sent her after such an important and dangerous story. The dozens of articles she had found on Barnes made it clear that this story Cary wanted her to cover wasn’t something he expected her to succeed at. He didn’t expect anyone to find Barnes at all and hadn’t been about to waste one of his better employees on a fruitless task. She didn’t care. Cary had finally given her a story worth covering and she was sure as hell going to get it done, even if her first thought had been that the police, FBI or even a PI would have been better suited for the job. There was no way she’d turn the job down now. Not when there was no way she could lose. If she got the story, she’d be bringing in one of the biggest stories the Globe had seen in years. If she failed, well, no one expected her to succeed anyways.

Her research on Barnes - otherwise known as the Winter Soldier - had led her to two conclusions. He was extremely dangerous, and he was extremely talented at what he did. And what he did, was take out criminals before anyone even knew that’s what they were. The hit would lead to an investigation, which would then lead to the exposure of skeletons no one knew were hiding in the deceased’s closet. His MO didn’t make any of his vigilante kills any less of a crime, it only meant that getting the story before anyone else would be huge for her and probably save a life in the process. All Amelie had to do was find the scumbag Barnes was targeting before her little hitman found him first.

Get a story, save a life, put an asshat in jail, get promoted. All in that order. That simple.

The problem - the biggest one at the moment - was that no one was able to figure out who Barnes’ next target would be before the body dropped. The deaths appeared random, but she knew it couldn’t be. Anyone who worked as meticulously as the Winter Soldier did had to have a process. Figuring it out would be the key to her success.

Amelie had reached out to other reporters across the country, including an old friend from the Times who had covered the deaths accredited to Barnes, but all anyone could say was that he was ghost.

So, the other major problem was finding him.

But that’s where she came in.

Finding people was something she had always been good at. Although she had never figured out how exactly, Amelie had an uncanny ability to be at the right place at the right time. Trusting that gut feeling had never steered her wrong in the past, and she wasn’t about to doubt it now. Any reporter could follow up on a lead and dig up dirt. But not every reporter had her instincts. Amelie had to believe that it was what was going to put her ahead of the dozen or so journalists who had gone up against the Winter Soldier in the past.

Her printer spat out a photo of the sergeant’s military ID, the most recent photograph she could find of him. She didn’t doubt he looked nothing like the picture. The cropped dark hair and clean-shaven face were probably long gone, and she had to assume that, like the security cameras unable to get a clear image of him, she wouldn’t recognize the man from the picture. The only saving grace was that she had never seen ocean coloured eyes so striking, even on a low quality, home printed scrap piece of paper. She figured she’d recognize them if - when - she met his gaze.

The military uniform and crooked grin seemed at odds with the infamous hitman she was hunting, but Amelie knew that dangerous men came in all shapes and sizes. The facts were that this man had killed almost a dozen high profile businessmen and politicians in the past five years and that each hit was in a largely public area, creating mass chaos, which was, if she had to guess, his escape route.

Scoping out Boston’s most popular public areas was where she would start. Tomorrow. She wouldn’t be able to find him running on half a muffin she’d had for supper and little to no sleep. Resting and getting her things in order was her priority. Tomorrow it would be the Winter Soldier.

* * * * *

Amelie wandered through Quincy Market among families decked out in Celtic’s green, ready for the night’s big game against the Raptors. The town square was alive with laughter and shouting, one of the last warm, autumn days brightening everyone’s mood. She let herself get stopped by tourists asking for directions, wandered into a coffee shop and popped into gift shops, looking to send her New York friends and family a little sign that she was adapting to just fine. No one had really understood her move from the New York Times to the Boston Globe, but then again, none of them had dated Brian for as long as she had. The only exception had wished her well and sent her off with an understanding smile. One of these trinkets was for them.

Every ball cap in sight caught her attention, though none hid incredible blue eyes under the lid. It was a gamble on her part to assume that he’d be wearing one, but the best way to get through a crowd, antsy for tonight’s game, was to blend in. And judging by the amount of ball caps in her five-foot radius alone, the odds were in her favour that she’d find him under one. Her instincts had gotten her this far. She wasn’t about to start doubting them during what was probably the most important story of her career.

Before she could decide where to wander to next, she was thrown to the ground, pain searing through her wrists. Where the hell that basketball had come from was beyond her, and she pushed herself back up, wincing as the assailant rolled away.

“I’m so sorry miss, are you all right?”

Amelie took in a deep breath and forced a cheery laugh, “I’m fine. Happens to the best of us. Let’s just hope none of that happens to our team tonight, right?”

The washed-out looking man in a stretched thin jersey picked up the ball and handed it back to his son. The man smiled, most likely pleased by her kind smile, cheery attitude and the fact that she wasn’t chewing his son out for his pathetic aim. They always were. Nice was usually seen as a weakness. Nice was never looked at twice. But underestimated and forgotten were some of the reason Amelie was able to do her job so well.

He finished with another apology and a slightly creepy wink before whisking his son away. She wanted to roll her eyes but kept her well practice act in place, keeping her gaze trained on them as they wandered through the crowd. That was when she spotted someone far more important behind them. The cap, which was what had immediately caught her attention, was a dumb choice on his part. The navy colour only brought out his eyes, which had made him that much easier to spot.

Amelie grinned.

It was time to pay her little hitman a visit.

She wove through the crowd with purpose, keeping an eye on her target. Stalking him wouldn’t do any good. She could do that later if need be. Right now, he was probably hyper aware of people trying to tail him, and less wary of people actually trying to talk to him. The latter was exactly what she planned on doing.

Amelie knew she shouldn’t have been feeling anything other than fear, but this was what she had come to Boston for. A fresh start and a killer story. All she could feel was the adrenaline coursing through her veins, her senses coming alive. It didn’t matter that she was tailing an accomplished hitman. She was damn good at her job. She could do this.

When she got close enough, she tapped on his shoulder, “Hi! I’m a reporter from the Globe’s sports section and we’re conducting a survey to see who’s watching the game tonight and where. Mind if I ask you a couple questions?”

He turned around, brows furrowed, and eyes narrowed as if surprised to have been spotted in the first place.

“No,” He answered gruffly, striding off.

Amelie hurried after him, “Technically no means you don’t mind!”

He kept walking.

“Please,” She begged, “I’m never going to be taken seriously if I can’t even get this silly task done. I, like, really, really, really want to be promoted to fashion. I’m sooo done with sports. Please, can you just answer this one tiny little question for me?”

He sighed, but thankfully stopped, “If you want to be taken seriously then lose the ditsy attitude.”

Rude.

“I’m asking you a question, not asking you to act like an as-” She cut herself off, cursing the slip in her act. She was better than that.

“That’s better,” He smirked, “You get one question.”

Amelie couldn’t roll her eyes at him, no matter how much she wanted to. The last thing she needed was an attitude that drew attention to herself or flagged her as threatening or even suspicious. He had asked her to drop the ditsy attitude, but that was the last thing she intended on doing. A cheery woman, somehow stuck doing an article for the sports section was exactly who she would be because that was the woman her hitman wouldn’t have a second thought about after they parted ways.

“If you’re watching the game tonight, are you watching at the Garden, at a bar, or at home?”

His face was the perfect image of boredom. Amelie couldn’t help but wonder if he practiced it in the mirror every morning.

“I see why you don’t want to keep asking these questions.”

“I’m glad you agree,” She answered dryly, unable to help herself.

He kept his blue eyes solely on her, which meant he wasn’t looking out for someone else. He obviously didn’t want to be here answering questions - the way he kept all his weight on his toes made Amelie think he was going to take off at any second - but he didn’t appear to be in a rush to get somewhere else either. Whoever his target was, he or she wasn’t here. Either that meant that her hitman had been fed false information or he was scouting a location rather than looking for a person in particular. Amelie had to bet on the former. It wasn’t much of a clue, but it was something.

“Let me guess,” She returned to the perky act, hoping she could get a solid answer out of him this time, “You seem like the kind of guy who would go to a bar to watch the game.”

He narrowed his eyes and her stomached knotted. This wasn’t how she wanted him to be looking at her. Amelie leaned even further into the act, widening her smile. She couldn’t slip up when she was so close to an answer.

He sighed. If he had been suspicious, he had quickly dismissed her as a threat, “Is that your way of trying to prove your journalistic instincts?”

“Is that your way of evading the question?” She countered.

“Maybe,” He smirked, a dangerous quirk of his mouth that sent her pulse racing, “How about you?”

“Maybe.”

Amelie held that piercing blue gaze, refusing to be the one to back down first. Arching a brow in a silent challenge, she waited with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Yes,” He conceded, “I’ll be watching in a bar tonight.”

She let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you! See, was that so hard?”

He snorted and walked off without another word.

“Have a nice day!” He called after him with fake chipper, muttering asshole beneath her breath.

Barnes didn’t turn around - not that she expected him to - and she watched him go until he was out of sigh. Hopefully, she was already out of his mind.

The game didn’t start for another couple hours, which gave her time to figure out which bars were playing the game tonight. Amelie had been disappointed when he hadn’t said he’d be watching the game at the Garden. A stadium was a hell of a lot easier to canvas than all the bars in Boston. She couldn’t even be certain that he was telling the truth - odds were that he wasn’t. Fortunately, Amelie’s gut feeling told her the opposite. Rude hitman didn’t necessarily mean liar.

Another sigh escaped her lips, the adrenaline wearing off. It had been risky giving herself away, but she banked on the fact that not many people, especially someone to small compared to him, would knowingly approach a wanted hitman. She had incorporated as much truth into her lie to make it as credible as possible and just had to hope that he wouldn’t check up on her.

The thought should have scared her, but it didn’t. Barnes was nothing like the articles described him as, and quite frankly, the only adjectives she would have used to described him were grumpy and rude. The man she’d just met was nothing like the terror described in the other articles. She didn’t know if her reaction made her stupid or brave. Maybe it was neither considering that no-one else had actually gotten close to him.

Not wanting to tail him all afternoon and most likely alert him to her presence, she decided to go home and get some more research done. It wasn’t going to be easy trying to find him tonight, but Amelie had always considered herself as someone who was lucky. She could get Barnes, but she was also going to need a little luck on her side tonight. 

* * * * *

Amelie had tried five different bars before finally finding him in a pub known for its connection with the Irish Mob. Her feet were sore, someone had spilt a drink on her lap at bar number two when the Celtics had scored, and it had taken an extra fifty just to convince the bouncer to let her in, but it was worth it.

She’d found him.

Finally.

The whole process of trying to find him had taken up so much of her energy that she’d forgotten to actually plan what she wanted to do when he found him. Not wanting to do something stupid, she did nothing. She’d somehow found a seat at the bar, despite the packed Friday night crowd, close enough so that she could see him but far enough away not to attract any unwanted attention. The pub was just as noisy as every other place she’d been at, drunken cheers and insults being shouted at the televisions sporadically. Amelie ordered another beer, still not sure what to do. Without a gut feeling to tell her what to do, she sipped away, keeping tabs on him from time to time. That was, until he wasn’t there anymore.

Cursing herself for being so sloppy, she downed the beer and pushed off the seat, only to run into a broad chest in a red henley and a dark leather jacket. She didn’t have to tilt her head back to know she was face to face - face to chest? - with the exact mad she was looking for. His narrowed eyes probably meant that their running into each other wasn’t accidental or a good thing.

She smiled.

He dipped his head, breath hot on her ear when he growled, “Sit down.”

Her eyes widened in the nonexistent fear she should have felt and followed his order while he slid into the free seat on her right. Barnes ordered a drink, not saying anything as they waited for the barman to come back with his beer. He probably hoped to ramp up her supposed fear by letting her stew, but it only succeeded in giving her time to think of a way out without killing her chance at getting this story. She had to give him credit though. She figured most people would have been afraid. But he had no idea that she wasn’t most people.  

“Who are you?” He demanded after the bartender had moved on.

“Oh! Right! You didn’t get my name earlier. I promise I’m not stalking you or anything, it’s purely personal,” Amelie could tell the sweetness in her voice had thrown him off guard, so she continued, laying it on even thicker, “It’s not every day I get to interview someone so… handsome, you know. I just thought that if I can into you tonight then-”

“Who are you?” He repeated, cutting her off with a cold look.

Obviously, manners weren’t his thing.

She forced a giggle even if it was getting harder to keep up the charade. What she wanted to do was shake him and tell him that manners were for everyone, including international hitmen, but she looked away for a second as if embarrassed.

She extended her hand, “Amelie Novak.”

He looked at it as though it might bite him, but he summoned all of his dangerous, brooding bravery and took it, “I wasn’t expecting such a firm grip.”

She shot him a pointed look, filling in the unspoken words, “From someone so ditzy?”

Amelie couldn’t help it. His condescending attitude made it impossible not to want to answer in the same tone. She needed to get her act together. Now. In the last five years, she had never broken character on the job, and now, she had twice in the same day. She reminded herself what was on the line if she slipped up and shot him another smile.

He let out something that might have been a laugh, if hitmen did indeed laugh. Judging by the looks of him, it wasn’t something he did all that often. At least no in from of other people. Or ever.

He stood, “I’m flattered by your…interest, but I have to go. If you’re lucky, some overgrown frat boy will come in a take my place. Seems more your type anyway, sweetheart.”

Amelie smiled through gritted teeth, holding it in place until he was no longer looking at her.

“I tried that,” She muttered when he was too far to hear, thinking of Brian, “Didn’t work out.”

Ordering another drink, she followed him out with her eyes, waiting to see what he would do next. After having seen her twice in the same day, she couldn’t tail him. There was nothing left for her to do. Or at least, that’s what she thought before realizing that he was following someone else out of the bar; someone Amelie very much recognized. And if that man was her hitman’s target, then all she had to do was find that man’s dirty little secrets. Fast.

She pulled out her phone. There was only one person she could count on to get the kind of information she needed and who could get it to her before the night was over.

* * * * *

“What do you got for me?” Amelie perched on the corner of Detective Sam Wilson’s desk and flicked the Paul Pierce bobble head.

He barely spared her a glance, focused on the document on his computer screen, “Nice to see you too, Novak.”

She sighed, “Come on, Wilson, you know I’m not one for pleasantries.”

“You were when we first met,” He pointed out, typing away.

“That was when I thought I could get something from you that way,” She grinned, “Turns out you were a lot less gullible than I thought.”

He pushed back from his desk, chair rolling far enough that he could extend his legs, “I should’ve encouraged manners. A simple how are you would have been nice.”

“Fine, fine,” She rolled her eyes, “How are you, Wilson? How was your day?”

“I’m fine, Novak,” He smirked, “How are you?”

“Hoping to be better once I hear what you’ve got.”

He crossed his arms, “What made you start looking into this guy anyways?”

There was no need to tell him that she’d just gone toe to toe with an international hitman, so she simply said, “I got a hunch.”

He raised a brow, “A hunch, huh?”

“Yeah,” She nodded, knowing he was too good a cop for her to risk lying even more to him, “A hunch.”

“You should have been a detective, Novak,” He chuckled, “I think you missed your calling.”

She laughed, “I never could have passed those physical tests. But I’m assuming that you found something if you’re telling me this?”

He nodded, eyes bright.

She leaned forward, “What is it?”

“Oh, you know, police business.”

She nodded, “Of course, police business.”

“I’m going to the bathroom. My computer’s been having trouble lately and won’t seem to shut off,” He winked, standing, “You’ll be gone when I’m back.”

“Yup.”

He put a hand on her shoulder, “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, Novak.”

“No problem, Wilson, I understand,” She grinned and whispered, “Thank you. I owe you. Next time I’ll come bearing coffee.”

He pulled back, “It better be one of those fancy coffees.”

“Obviously,” She hopped off his desk, watching him leave.

“With cinnamon,” He called over his shoulder.

Amelie bounced onto Sam’s chair and stared at the document he’d left open. Her excitement built as the words for her article began to string themselves together in her mind.

* * * * *

The article had gone viral. Hers. Amelie Novak’s. Cary, after having cursed her out for banging on his home door at midnight, actually smiled after reading it. It had managed to get enough press that even her friends in New York had heard about it. Thinking about it still made her giddy, even days later. God, she loved her job.

The man, a corrupt CEO working with the Irish Mob, had been placed in protective custody, despite his white-collar crimes. Putting him in jail was too dangerous, a prison too flimsy for a good hitman.

Amelie probably should have felt better about having saved a life, but it was hard to feel proud when the made she’d save was a grade A scumbag. Among other crimes, he’d stolen from hundreds of families in the area and hurt so many other people through his connections with the Mob and those were only the crimes Wilson had been able to dig up overnight. Since then, other crimes had surfaced and all her articles since then had been recaps of the cops’ investigation.

Fumbling with her keys, her grip slipped on her grocery bags and she scrambled to get into her apartment without dropping anything. The place was dark, the late evening light gone long before she had left the office and the city lights barely poking thought the cracks between the adjacent buildings.

The light switch was too high to reach with the weight of the five-pound sack of potatoes in one hand and the jug of milk in the other, so she wandered blindly into the kitchen of her new studio apartment.

“I’d have to say, I’m impressed.”

Amelie shrieked, almost dropping the bags again. Her heart pounding her chest as if it was begging her to leave, but she didn’t move or turn on the lights. She didn’t need to. Amelie recognized the voice.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, professional hitman, the Winter Soldier himself, was in her kitchen, and he was most definitely trespassing.

[percywinchester27]

About a boy (Part-2)

Word count: 2.8K

Warning: Suspense, feels, physical abuse, bullying 

Characters: Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Benny, Michael, OCs and… Sam?

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?

A/N: Many thanks to @thing-you-do-with-that-thing and @deanssweetheart23 for beta reading this story. I love you guys <3

Part 1

The orphanage wasn't quite as gloomy in the daylight, Dean concluded, but still gloomy enough. Cas showed him around the place in the morning. The shower rooms, the mess, the grounds. Everyone looked at him as they passed. The new kid. As if he hadn't had that before. 

The building was I- shaped, and a good chunk of the T-shape was occupied. No one really knew what happened in the left-wing. It was boarded and the only way to go there was from the ground and up the other staircase. The ground floor had the office, the library, store room, record room, the kitchen and the mess hall, which overlooked the huge, unkempt backyard. 

The first floor was mostly storages and a creepy meeting room for when interested couples visited the orphanage to look at a kid up for adoption. Looked like a jail cell to Dean. The second floor had a Rec room with one old TV set. A couple of computers that looked like they were about to give up any second now. A table tennis board and a few other random board games. It was longish room, like several walls had been knocked down to make space for it, with an assortment of mismatching sofas. The place was about as lively as an almost abandoned old age home. The second floor housed kids from 3 to 6, third floor from 7 to 10, then the floor above had 11 to 14 and the fifth floor, the one where Dean was to live was 15 to 17.

He kept his head down all through breakfast, carefully watching kids file in and file out. There must have been at least 600 to 700 of them in the whole building. It was a big facility and that just made it all the more difficult for him. Afterwards, he stood by the widow, seeing all the little kids scramble on to one bus after another and head to school. Dean started the day after, so today was all he would get. 

Cas clapped him on his back on his way out. "Stay quiet, alright?" his blue eyes twinkled. 

"Okay."

As soon as all of them were in the bus, Dean slipped out of the mess quietly. His cleaning duties weren't going to be assigned till later today which is why he had to make the most of his time. He passed Andy in the hall, who was headed towards his office.

Dean nodded to him, all the while cursing under his breath. The record room was just down the corridor from Andy's office. How was he going to break into it with Andy just around the corner? He had to try though.

He looked around once Andy had passed, then doubled back to the record room. It was locked.

Great!

He pulled out the lock pick he kept with him from his pocket and picked it open, cursing once more because this would leave evidence, and he was, at no cost, supposed to draw attention. Once inside, he shut the door behind him and turned to face the room. His breath caught. The room was full of racks stacked with files. There must have been thousands and thousands of those. Till there was only enough room to walk around.

"Shit!" 

There was no way he was going to find one single record in this sea of files. He went along the first row anyway, maybe they were categorized alphabetically, though being organized seemed highly out of character for the whole place.

Still, Dean went around, looking for 'W.' That wasn't the most common letter for surnames, now was it?

All of a sudden the door barged open. 

"Who's there?" A voice called. Dean jumped, startled. "It's me…" he said, as meekly as he could manage. I'm new here… I got lost."

"Come out, now."

Dean walked back carefully till he was at the start of the rack. A lanky boy of about 19 was standing at the door. He wore a janitor's uniform, and looked slightly punch drunk.

"You shouldn't be here, kid!"

"I-I got lost…" he stammered.

The janitor dude, walked closer,eyeing Dean. The nameplate on his chest read "Garth F."

"Alright, but don't have Andy catch you snooping around next time," Garth scolded good-naturedly. "Now off you go."

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He made a beeline straight for the 5th floor. Not stopping till he was on his bed, heart pounding out of his chest.

What had he been thinking? Getting caught on the first damn day?

He could barely swallow the lunch and then hit the sack at 5, before Cas could get back from school. Dean was starting to like him, and at this point he couldn't really afford to do that. The sleepless night and an afternoon of over thinking, at least, aided in passing out cold.

Dean was awoken by a rag thrown over his face, suffocating him. He tried to flail, to yell but rough hands grabbed his legs, his arms, pinning him to the mattress. 

"Don't make a sound, or you'll pay for it," someone hissed in his ear.

So, this was the initiation. Deliberately, Dean stopped moving. If he didn't know who he was watching his back from, none of this would ever work.

He was roughly shoved into a huge gurney bag and then dragged across the hall. Fortunately, not down the stairs. He guessed that whoever the captors were, at least they were scared of making too much noise, so he wasn't obviously staying on the same floor. 24 steps down, flat stretch then a pause then a left turn, another 24 steps. Dean tried to memorize every step, but what with all the juggling around, it was hard to make sense of the direction.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the gurney carrying him was thrown on the ground. The fall hit his head hard. Then it began, the ceaseless thrashing. Hands and feet, mostly feet found each part of his body, hands, head, leg, just everything. He curled up into a ball, head in hands to avoid getting hit in the eye or getting his nose broken. That thing was permanent and he didn't want to live his life with a crooked nose.   

At long last he was dumped on to the ground unceremoniously. At first, he didn't remove his hands from over his face, but when nothing happened immediately, he blinked into the darkness, barely seeing anything.

"What's your name, kid?" A harsh voice asked.

"You want it tattooed on your chest?" Dean asked. It earned him a swift kick to the gut.

"Smartass."

The comment was a throwaway, but Dean could hear a hint of grudging admiration.

"Your name?" Another voice asked, this one was harsher, and also older.

Dean wanted to throw another comment, but he figured he needed to get up first to have at least some advantage. If answering was going to buy him time, might as well.

"Winchester."

"Think I've heard that name somewhere," the first voice muttered. Dean inhaled sharply.

"Winchester what?" Second voice.

"Dean Winchester," he replied, hoping that the first voice had something more to add to. Sneakily, he got on his knees, his body killing him as he ambled.

"We have an initiation system here, Winchester," a third voice added.

How many were there? In the bare light coming from the far away lamp near the side building, Dean could make out at least 5 silhouettes. There could be a couple more. 

There was no way he could fight his way through all of those.

"Strip!" The harsh voice said.

"What's the fun in that?" Dean said, careful, calculative. If he had the disadvantage of the darkness, so did they. Maybe, just maybe he could run away.

Another shove. Dean almost fell back this time. When the second shove came, he was ready to block it and throw it back. His one hand collided with the assailants and the other landed on his back, pushing him down. There was a muted yell and whoever the boy was, took another one down with it.

"Think you're smart, huh?" The harsh voice asked, and three figures crowded in. 

"Wait!" 

The huffing thin frame of Castiel threw himself before Dean. "Let him go, Michael."

So that was the bully's name.

"Castiel?" Michael backtracked. "What're you doing here?"

"Dean's my friend. I can't let you guys do that to him."

Michael seemed to regard Cas. "This happens to every kid."

There were jeers in the background.

"Yeah but he's not a kid anymore" Cas said, hurriedly. "C'mon, man! Let it go."

Even in the darkness, Dean could see Michael's shoulders go taut. "Why are you trying to save the  newbie's ass, Castiel? What's in it for you?"

Cas said nothing, and Dean wondered the same. What did he get out of saving Dean?

"I've had enough of this soap opera," Michael said impatiently. "Gary, pull Castiel away. Let's get this show on the road."

There was a sudden whelp, and then Cas grunted, as if he had been hurt. 

"No," Dean shouted, losing his calm now. Whatever Cas' deal was, he had still tried to help Dean. He didn't deserve to get punched for it. "Let him go. If you got guts, come at me, asshat."

No one answered. There was just a flurry of movement and Dean was down on the ground once more, the dust making him cough. They could thrash him for all they wanted. He knew they would succeed because they had the advantage of numbers, and they knew the place well while he was plunged in this darkness. But, like hell he was giving up without putting up a fight. His only concern was Cas. He had to be okay.

"Gentlemen!" A silky voice suddenly interrupted. The thrashing stopped.

"I see you're showering our lovely new inmate with all the love."

"Gabriel?" Michael asked, perplexed.

"Yo, Mikey!! You back to abusing little kids in the alley?"

"What?" Michael's tone quickly changed from surprise to anger. Dean noticed that this Gabriel was making no effort to keep his voice down like the others.

"Too dark here, don't you think?" Gabriel wondered out loud. Then, there was the distinct sound of a matchstick being struck and the view was flooded with light. 

Holding the match was a boy of about Dean's age, or maybe a little older. It was hard to tell. He was blonde with light eyes. Maybe brown, maybe hazel, it was hard to tell. The most distinct thing in his eyes wasn't the reflection of the dancing flames. It was the dancing mischief.

"You'll wake everyone up, you idiot," a boy said, he looked scared. From the voice, Dean pegged him as Gary.

"Oh, you're worried about this little thing?" Gabriel smiled, looking at the matchstick that was on the verge of extinguishing. "I wonder what you'll make of the lights that are about to flood the hallways because I left one such matchstick burning in your room. Give it… uhhh ten more minutes before the smoke sets up the fire alarm and then boom! Red lights everywhere."

"Fuck!" Another boy cursed.

In the fading light, Dean had seen it all. The cold, calculating look in Dark haired Michael's eyes, his three goons lurking in the background. One more was holding Cas, then there was Gary who looked ready to piss his pants.

"This isn't over, Winchester!" Michael growled, then took off running towards the building, his goons all following him. The guy holding Cas, abandoned him, pushing him into the dirt, too. 

"Are you okay?" Dean said, pulling him to his feet. "Why-"

"Well, surely he isn't!" Gabriel said speaking over Dean, leaving all his oily pretense behind. He was irritated. "Cassy, are you out of your mind? Why did you do that?"

Cas just dusted the grime of his shirt. 

"Dean was in trouble."

"Yeah, he's new!" Gabriel shrugged. "Why did you put your ass on the line for him?"

"Why did you put your ass in line for me?" Cas asked. "Look, Gabe, let it go."

"It's your head," Gabriel said. "Just don't lose it over some newbie idiot."

The sound of footsteps walking away was much too loud now.

"C'mon, we need to get moving," Cas said. They hadn't really hurt him, but he was still roughed up. Despite that, his voice was pleasant and kind.

"Thanks, man," Dean said, looking down as they quickly walked up the path. "You didn't have to do that. They could have hurt you."

"Nah, they wouldn't," Cas brushed it off. There was a confidence there, and Dean wondered what the story was.

They walked in silence for a while, before Cas mumbled.

"Don't mind Gabe. He isn't all that cocky. He means well."

Dean got cocky alright. What he didn't get was how Gabriel could pull a stunt like that without getting in trouble. Michael's gang would totally get him now, but he didn't seem bothered at all. 

When Dean wondered out loud, Cas laughed. "Don't worry about Gabe. He's a sneaky piece of work. He has something over each one of them. Even Michael. I don't know what, but everyone just generally stays away from Gabe, ya know."

Survival of the fittest. Gabe sure knew how to be the dominant species. 

"He seems to care about you."

Cas' eyes glinted in the darkness. "We've been together for a long time, now, sharing the same room. Well, he's your roommate, too, now."

They had reached the back porch now. "We can't go in from the left wing. Those idiots probably locked that back up."

"What do we do then?" The question was more panicky than Dean wanted it to be. The place was affecting him more than it should.

"Don't worry," Cas reassured him. "We can stake out in the store room till the morning and then slip out when they unlock the floors."

The plan worked without a glitch, and soon they found themselves bunking against the musty furniture at the very end. Cas stretched out on the floor and Dean took up the side against the wall. This way, they couldn't see each other, but from the sound of his breathing, Dean knew Cas was still up.

"Can I ask you something?" Dean finally said.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you bust me out?"

Cas was quiet for a while. "I think you're different, Dean. There's something up with you. I've been in an orphanage all my life, I've seen countless kids come and go. They all look scared, look lonely. You- You on the other hand look like you've been sent into an enemy territory, you aren't judging this place, you're scoping it. Like you're up to something. Now, I also know you're not bad, because I saw you help out the kids out front today with the lawn when you didn't have to. So, I keep thinking to myself why you're here."

Holy shit! Cas was smart.

Dean knew if he lied now, he'd suck at it, but also he'd royally insult both the favor and the trust that Cas had put on him.

"I- " he started, feeling dangerously nervous. "I came here with a purpose."

Cas seemed to hear with baited breath.

"You see, my parents both died in a house fire." Dean waited for it, because now was where the "I'm sorry" came in. Cas didn't offer one. Probably because he had heard way too many sob stories by this point, or maybe because he knew all too well that those same 'I'm sorrys' didn't mean a damn thing."

"Well, I wasn't their only kid. I had a little brother- Sam. They… they took him away and put him in some orphanage. It has been 11 years since I last saw him. Turns out the some orphanage is this orphanage."

"Holy heavens!" Cas sat up straight, tumbling a bucket behind him. The clang of the metal it banged against, echoed through the whole room and maybe outside.

The two of them went deathly still.

There were footsteps outside, and both Dean and Cas, slipped further inside. He under the stashed away bed, and Cas under an abandoned table. 

Dean pursed his lips, not daring to breathe too loudly even after the footsteps had receded. He stayed silent, watching the minutes go by. Just when he was sure that Cas had probably fallen asleep, the quietest whispers sounded in the dark. 

"We're going to find your brother, Dean. We're going to turn this place upside down and find your brother."

Dean did not reply. His throat was too thick.

Now that he had let his guard down, the fear, anxiety and worse, the hope came flooding into his heart, making him defenseless. He stayed up long after Cas' hushed snores washed over him, feeling the gratefulness and camaraderie he hadn't expected at all.

******************************

A/N 2: I really really hope y’all like this story!! Please let me know what you think… the feedback is what keeps me going :)

If you wanna be tagged, please send me an ask

About a Boy taglist:

@sdavid09 @deanssweetheart23 @blacktithe7 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @cosicas-cuquis @chalicia  @anathewierdo @mrswhozeewhatsis @protectteamfreewill @firefly124-writing @spnbaby-67 @hoboal87 @rizlow1 @donnaintx @starmission @gh0stgurl @tftumblin @emily-a-c11 @ericaprice2008 @jotink78 @charliebradbury1104 @ohgodwhybloggg @i-dont-get-cold 

[freckled-words]

Count The Teeth - Part Three

I get so wrapped up between writing and working (doing more writing than working, WHOMP) I keep forgetting to post the next update!!

Edited by @the-wild-ego​

PART ONE / PART TWO

Three peaceful weeks went by. Three weeks without NateMare popping into your apartment. Three weeks without being dragged around. Three weeks to just feel like life was somewhat normal again. 

That bubble of peace was burst in a spectacular fashion as NateMare woke you up in the dead of night. 

The lights were thrown on, and a body slammed onto the mattress next to you.

You woke with a shriek. You shoved yourself away from the body in a frantic scramble. Unfortunately, you’d been right by the edge of the bed.

You hit the floor in an awkward heap, bumping your elbow on the edge of the bed frame in the process. 

That bit of pain ebbed off some of the panic. 

Peering up at your bed, the rest of your panic was wiped out by a surge of anger. 

NateMare was on your bed. His face was buried in the pillows as his body sprawled out over the majority of the surface. 

Not giving a damn about waking the neighbors you yelled, “What the hell is your problem?!”

He snuggled deeper into the pillows, “Yell at me later, trying to sleep.”

“No. I will yell at you now! You can’t just crash here like we’re friends!” for good measure you moved to the other side and slapped his leg. It felt good to hit him. 

There came a rumbling growl from his chest. You tensed, thinking he was about to spring at you, or he’d make the chain do something.

A moment passed, and then another rumbling growl.

Inching closer to peer at his face, you found that he was fast asleep. The growls were his snores.

Throwing your hands up in defeat you left. Thankfully you had a futon for a couch. You were too tired to try hauling his ass up just then, you’d deal with him in the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the smell of coffee that pulled you from your dreamless sleep. Cracking an eye open you found a steaming cup on the table next to you.

Beyond that you could see NateMare in the kitchen. Cooking bacon while he whistled a cheery tune.

Sitting up you squinted suspiciously at the coffee, then over at NateMare, “Either this is a fucked up dream, or I’m in an alternate reality.”

“Sorry for stealing your bed last night, I was half conscious when I came in.” He called back over his shoulder. He turned off the stove and put the frying pan to the side.

The smug smile on his face made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. 

“You’re beyond happy about something. You get laid during the past three weeks?”

Your little quip did nothing to take his smile away, “Yes I did, and it was good times, but that’s not what I’m jiving on.”

You took the cup of coffee and gave it a small sip. Tasted safe enough, just needed more sugar. The nectar of the gods warming you from the inside, you gestured with your hand, “Alright, let’s hear it. What’s got your engines running?”

“While you were here, being unproductive and pining away for me-”

“In your dreams.”

“I was researching. After a little quality time with my host, I took a lovely trip to Japan.”

Your tone dry, you asked, “You have a passport?”

He scoffed and laughed. Going back to the frying pan, he used the spatula to move some bacon onto a plate that had already been loaded with scrambled eggs and toast. It smelled delicious, and you knew your eyes just had to be begging for that food.

Which was why NateMare took that much more pleasure in sitting down on the floor and digging into the plate.

You slurped your coffee in loud protest.

NateMare at least had the decency to wait until he finished his mouthful before talking, “Who needs a passport when I can sneak into a suitcase, and then into an empty seat on the flight? First class is amazing by the way.” He gave a wink as he took another bite of his eggs.

Rolling your eyes you urged him on, “Okay, you went to Japan. Why? What was there?”

He put down his fork and held up a finger telling you to wait. He leaned down and pulled something out from under the table. It was a tattered notebook with a navy blue cover. You couldn’t even begin to guess how old it was just from the frayed page edges you could see.

Placing it on the table he answered, “This beautiful gem, is a journal that belonged to my host’s family. It took me forever to first learn about it, and then to find it stuffed into one of their storages. Bless mortals and their need to hold onto everything for sentimental value.”

You picked up the journal and with slow, delicate movements, turned the pages. The pages were filled with Japanese writing, “And you can read Japanese?”

“No, but I met a charming college student that was happy to translate for me. Among other things.” with a flourish, NateMare pulled out a small stack of papers. 

You took the papers from Mare with a quiet, “Ew.”

They were typed pages, appearing to be word for word translations of what was in the journal.

As you began to read you felt your brows furrow. When you reached the 5th page and its ongoing story you looked up at NateMare, “Is this really-”

“A legend of a monster resembling a family member, that frames them for the murders of a handful of people? Yes. This is that asshat’s origin story.” 

“Alright, I’m adult enough to admit this is some good work. But this doesn’t tell us where to find him.” You continued to read, entirely engaged with the content about the mysterious monster from the past.

While you’d been reading NateMare had finished off his breakfast. Leaving the plate on the table, he lay back on the floor, “I have a name now, and I know someone that can find people with just their names. I’ll have my hands around that leech’s throat by the end of the day.”

This was the best bit of news you’d heard all month, “Great! You have everything you need, and you don’t need me anymore, right?”

Your eager question hung in the air.

Each second that passed without an answer was too long.

“NateMare.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.”

Throwing off your blanket you stood to glare down at him, “You have what you need. The deal, which I never agreed to, was to help you find him. You don’t need me to find him anymore.”

His eyes were closed with his hands under his head, “The research is done, but I’m not going vampire hunting without bait.”

“Bait?”

He slowly nodded his head.

“Fuck you. Go grab someone off the street and use them for bait. I’m done. You can’t keep dragging me around like this, I have my own life to get on with!” You were panting by the end, and despite your words, your emotions were still a mess that threatened to cause tears.

His eyes opened then. Each of his movements seemed slow and deliberate as he got to his feet. Standing toe-to-toe with you he tsked, “A life to get on with? What life? I kept an eye on you for a little over two weeks. Your ‘life’ consisted of work at that gas station, going to the movies on your own, and sitting on your ass in front of the computer. Maybe the odd screaming match on the phone with your father. Pathetic as your existence is, it belongs to me.”

He snapped his fingers, and you began to burn. 

You’d assumed the chain would be the source of whatever punishment NateMare would inflict on you. You’d assumed wrong. 

You felt as though you’d been dunked into a body of water set to boiling. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t scream. You watched the skin on your hands form patches of blisters in some spots, or dry into cracks in other patches. 

You were cooking from the inside out, shriveling and weakening your muscles.

Crumpling to the ground, the tears that you managed to produce stung your skin as they traveled down your cheeks and to your chin. 

NateMare crouched down to your level, taking hold of your chin he hissed, “If not for me showing up that night, you would be just like the other victims. Drained and in the hospital, possibly even dead. You’re done, when I say you’re done.”

Straightening he snapped his fingers.

The heat stopped, and your skin returned to normal. Sucking in gulps of air you fought the urge to begin crying. You refused to let him see you as the pathetic person he already thought you were.

“I’ll come to get you once I have a location.” 

Then he was gone, leaving you to wonder what you’d done to deserve this fate.

[de-mortem]

The Span of a Kiss

SHIP: AluSion ( Alucard x Gusion )

SEXUALITY : Gay

ORIGINAL : https://my.w.tt/vo7tAwVKgZ

A/N : sorry if crap doesn't go properly, i don't use computer version. if you want to read it in full, please go check out my ao3 or wattpad account ^^ alsosorryivebeeninactivehereoop-

"It's just a short, quick scout around our territory for any demons or Abyssal soldiers.  I'll barely be gone."

Gusion pouted at Alucard's words.  "I just.. have a bad feeling about it.  They've been acting up a lot more recently and-"

"Gusion,"  Alucard interrupted him, taking his worrying lover's face into his hands.  "I'll be fine.  Trust me."  The blonde gave the other a quick peck on his forehead, causing a warmth in Gusion's cheeks.

"Pft.  That's it?  That'll barely last an hour after you left."

Alucard rose an eyebrow.  The flush on Gusion's cheeks worsened.

"Just kiss me on the lips, you asshat."

That had been their last interaction.  Gusion had trusted Alucard, trusted him not to get himself killed.  And, well, to the extent of Gusion's knowledge, he hadn't.  What had happened, though, was the patrol being ambushed by elite Abyssal soldiers that managed capture Alucard.  Of course, there was casualties on their side, the littered corpses stood as proof, the cost of attaining such a prize.

It'd been two months, now.

Gusion had been planning.

The details he hadn't told anyone, but to a few, he promised Alucard would be returning soon and he was damn set on making sure it happened.

His plan, though?  Stupid.  Reckless.  Horrible.  Yet, somehow, he had managed to follow it.

'Where is he right now?' you might ask, to which I will tell.

It'd gone smoothly, surpassingly.  He only had to kill one guard so far and that was to get the keys off of him.  The walls around him were thin, and he figured the only reason they weren't pushing up on his shoulders were because someone had complained about it.  From somewhere, Gusion heard the far off echoes of water dripping down onto the floor, and a cool draft hit him, making a shiver run up his spine.  It was ungodly dark in this current tunnel, and he could barely see, let alone know his own direction as the caved out corridor kept twisting and turning.  He didn't turn back, though.  Never.  Alucard was in here somewhere.  He had plans to follow and a promise to keep to others.  After an unknown amount of time to Gusion, the corridor finally opened up, widening to reveal rows of cells, singular torches lit every once and a while.  Gusion quickened his pace to a fast walk, then a jog, and then a run.  Alucard, Alucard, Alucard--all this cells were empty, where was Aluca--

Gusion's heart leapt to his throat.  There.  He skidded to a stop, almost had ran past the entire cell in general.  There Alucard was, clothes ragged, demonized arm exposed, bruises and cuts clearly visible with dried blood stained on his clothes.  "Alu!"  The other's name tumbled out of his mouth with out control, thankfully coming out as a whisper-yell. 

Alucard's head immediately snapped up at the familiar voice, eyes blinking a bit before focusing in on Gusion.  "G..Gus?"  His voice was raspy, as if damaged.

Gusion's hands gripped the cell bars, tears rising up into his eyes unexpectedly.  "Yes!  Gods, yes--I'm here.  I'm here."

Alucard shook his head and, with a bit of difficulty, staggered up right.  "You shouldn't be here."  He stated, stumbling over to the bars and holding onto them to keep himself upright.  "How.. How did you-"

"It doesn't matter.  I'm here to get you ou--what have they done to you?"  The question interrupted his thoughts, interrupted his own words he had been speaking.  In the low light in the cell, he hadn't been able to see it, but now that Alucard was closer to the light outside of his cell Gusion could clearly see it.  From the arm that had demonized before in Alucard's past, its skin black much akin to the night sky, had now spread upwards, visible at Alucard's neck, nearing his jawline.  Gusion brought out a hand and touched it, anger flaring through him.  How dare they?  How dare they do this to Alucard!  Those motherfucking--

"Gusion, please, you have to listen, you need to leave, this whole thing--"

"--was a trap."  The voice finished Alucard's sentence for him.  It was loud, clear, and all too familiar.  Alice, the unpure Queen of the Abyss.  "Do you like my work, Holy Blade?"

Gusion whirled around, anger written clear on his face.  Drawing a dagger, he rushed forward, only to stumble backwards as the demon used her blood magic to stun him for a few moments.  An amused look was on her face.  "Typical.  I assume you're here to rescue him, no?"

"Let him go."

"And why should I?  What offer could you possibly produce for him?"  Alice questioned, gesturing out with her hand as she took a few steps forward, grandly near Gusion because of the lack of space in the cold corridor.  The mage didn't waver.

"I offer myself."

"Gusion no!"  The words had barely left Gusion's mouth before Alucard yelled out his refusal, hands tightly gripping the bars confining him in his cell.

Alice merely laughed, a crazed laugh only a madman could possibly laugh.

Gusion defiantly stood in his place, waiting for an answer.

Finally, after her long burst of laughter ceased, a grin was lit upon Alice's face.  "Deal."

Relief spread through Gusion.  Alucard wouldn't be a prisoner in this hellhole anymore.  He turned around, facing Alucard once again.  "I need another kiss, the effects of your last kiss have worn off."

"Gusio--"

Alucard's anger-filled words were cut off by Gusion's lips upon his.  Alucard kissed back, reaching out with a hand to grasp at the nape of Gusion's neck, needing the touch of Gusion's skin other than his lips upon him, needing to have that contact.  The kiss only lasted a few seconds before Gusion was yanked back by the Demon Queen, and despite his situation, he shot a grin at Alucard.  "Better be back before that one's effect wears off too, yeah?"

And that was the last he had seen of Gusion.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑†๑ஓ ────── ⊰

The fight was over.  The unpure Demon Queen laid dead in her throne room after almost half a year after Alucard's release.  The trade had been a stupid one, utterly idiotic to trade one of the best Demon Hunters for a runaway noble.  Perhaps she had suspected Alucard would act stupid like his lover had, tried to rescue Gusion as Gusion had him.  No--Alucard wouldn't go on a suicide mission like that, wouldn't go only to die in front of Gusion.  Every moment was plagued with thoughts of Gusion, every time he closed his eyes, Gusion was there.  Gusion.  They wouldn't kill his Gusion, right?  He was too valuable, too prized to kill.  He belonged to the demon hunter and he was the only thing other than killing than drove him.  If they had Gusion, they had power over Alucard.  Yet, they were too late in trying to use that against him, shown as Alice's corpse bled out onto the stone of the floor.  Alucard briskly walked over to her corpse, ignoring the words of his teammates.  Nothing mattered except getting the keys and freeing Gusion.  From around Alice's neck Alucard's snapped off the necklace that held the familiar key to the dungeon and starting to make his way down the path he'd memorized, his walking turning into running as he made his way downwards to the dungeon, finding the staircase and taking three at a time.  Gusion.  He needed to find Gusion.

The main corridor leading to the dungeon was cramped and cold, but Alucard didn't slow his pace, only picked it up.  Quickly, the corridor widened, leading to the familiar dungeon.  He passed cell by cell, each either empty or holding a long-dead corpse, rare and few were the ones that had recently died.  Dread began to fill Alucard.  What if they had killed Gusion?  What if he was--there.

"Gusion!"  His love's name flew out from his lips automatically, not something he would ever had been able to stop.  His words received no response.  Quickly, he began to fumble with the key, inserted it into the lock and opening it, flinging the door up.  He practically threw himself onto the ground in front of Gusion.  Gusion--gods, his beautiful Gusion.  They'd hurt him, there were cuts lining his body, deep gashes of which some weren't even fully healed yet.  Recent.  Lightly, he brought his index and middle finger over one, gently touching it.  Gusion jerked back from his grasp, eyes opening and slightly glazed.  Panic filled them, and the inhabitant of the cell weakly tried to push away, driven by instinct.  Alucard immediately pulled away, mind taking a grasp of the situation.  He knew what was happening, knew why Gusion was backing away from his touch and it hurt.  He knew what the demons could do, knew the torture they were capable of.  It wasn't something he would wish on his worst enemy, and yet Gusion..!  Fuck.  "Gusion--it's me, it's okay, you're okay.  Breathe in and out.  Focus."  His voice was soft, soothing.  Gusion, led by the voice, did as instructed and, slowly, his mind grasped that Alucard wasn't just another cruel hallucination, grasped that he wasn't being grabbed to get tortured and he began to cry.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑†๑ஓ ────── ⊰

It took time for Gusion to just actually touch someone again, even longer to let someone else touch him first.  From his captivity, he became more quiet, on guard whenever he was outside, afraid of an abyssal demon coming out to take him again, to put him through more torture.  The nights were worse.  On those he could actually sleep were filled with nightmares of the hell he went through, and each time he woke up screaming, it utterly pained Alucard for him not to be able to reach out and hold Gusion, not to be able to rub soothing nothings onto the others back to help calm him down.  His voice was the only thing he could use to help Gusion, and he hated how little he could do as Gusion cried from the memories that badgered him.  Alucard knew what was happening, knew how Gusion was suffering, and he hated it.  It was unfair.  It was cruel.  He could do nothing to help.

Slowly, though, Gusion got better.  It was with time, and not with Gusion forcing himself.  The one time Gusion had forced himself had been disastrous--the hug had been more damaging than it had been healing.  But, as time passed, it got better.  One time, during breakfast, Gusion had reached out, gently placing his hand ontop of Alucard's.   Alucard didn't move his, not wanting to ruin this process Gusion was going through; he could feel the small tremor going through his love's hand, one that subsided as they went on with breakfast.  Time passed again, and Gusion progressed from small touches to actually holding Alucard's hand and being able to lean on the blonde for a short amount of time.

One day came as a surprise, though.

Alucard had stayed up with Gusion, refusing to sleep while Gusion stayed up.  As the first traces of the sun started to come up from the horizon, he got up, slipping his hand out from under Gusion's and headed to the kitchen, starting to make breakfast for the two.  He was about halfway through when he felt Gusion's arms wrap around him, the brunette's forehead lightly falling onto his back.  Alucard leaned over the counter, placing his face into his hands and began to cry as the light of dawn gently filled the kitchen.

Months passed on after that moment, and Gusion progressed more and more.  Another moment came up as surprised Alucard, too.  It'd been quite some time since the hug, and Gusion had vastly grown more comfortable with touch.  The two had been sitting down together on the couch, enjoying the silence.  Gusion's hand was on Alucard's, and he was letting Gusion idly play with his hand as the brunette's head laid on his shoulder.

Gusion's voice was quiet.  "I think the effect of your kiss has worn off again."

Alucard look down at Gusion, the other's words taking a second before they clicked.  "Are you sure?"  He asked, not wanting to force Gusion into something he wasn't ready for.

Gusion managed a feeble grin as he nodded, grey-blue eyes shimmering.  "Yeah.  Definitely."

Slowly, Alucard leaned down, not wanting to be too abrupt for Gusion before softly pressing his lips onto the other's.  Gusion didn't flinch away, didn't tear away.  In fact, he kissed Alucard back.  The kiss was short, but nonetheless filled Alucard to the brim with joy.  A wide smile was on his face when he pulled away.  "How long will that one last?"  He questioned.

Gusion's answer was simple, but seemed to brighten Alucard's view of everything in the room.  "Until I want another one."

[softhaos]

RAPID EYE MOVEMENT

pairing – wen junhui x reader genre – humor + acting major!junhui + sorta tom and jerry relationship i guess description – it’s another day and another attempt to take pictures of junhui and get a good grade in photography class. alternatively, junhui plays you once again and you remain a dumbass. warning – some not-so-heavy insults here and there word count – 3,380 words author’s note – this wasn’t supposed to see the light of day until i published the long ass introduction to jun’s route but i did it anyway pls enjoy uwu

set in the victorious universe | can be read as a standalone

“The grades were distributed evenly this time, so pairing up is going to be simple: Asshats form a duo with Bitches. Cocksuckers, get yourself a Dickhead as a partner,” Seungkwan hollers.

You frown as you see the big fat ‘C’ at the top right-hand corner of your evaluation sheet. You had a relatively good feeling about your acting abilities at the last evaluation test but looking back at it, you start to share the opinion that your performance was average at best. Some gestures were forced, your expressions were exaggerated and your voice was strained at times. It takes you a sideways glance to see that you’re not the only one who overestimated themselves this time.

“Cocksucker,” Mingyu mouths at you before he runs his fingers through his hair; an act of exasperation he does out of habit instead of letting his frustration show on his face.

It takes you a second before the light bulbs go on in your head. You wonder why nobody has complained that Seungkwan, who is the TA and younger than the majority of students in this class, substitutes letters for unoriginal insults. Isn’t this what they call abuse of power? This definitely is an abuse of power. However, nobody doesn’t really seem to mind, even the ones who passed the evaluation with flying colors.

It’s quite easy to identify the grades the other people got. It’s a little hard to distinguish the B students from the C students, but whereas the B students let a hint of satisfaction linger on their faces for a while longer, the C students are either glad they didn’t rank in the worst grade or are simply frustrated. You and Mingyu fall into the latter. Pure mortification coats the faces of the D students and everything else, meaning happiness or the just-as-expected look, are the expressions of the A students.

Junhui is an A student, so he falls into the category Asshat.

His reaction is barely visible, it’s nothing more than a slight twitch of the corners of his mouth before he busies himself in cheering up an extremely whiny Seokmin. Yeah, he definitely is one of the Dickheads today.

You admit a C is totally fine. Given that it was your first evaluation test in the past few months and it’s still the beginning of the new semester, a C is a good starting point. There’s a lot of room for improvement and–

Who are you kidding, you hate that you delivered an average performance. And with Seungkwan’s restriction that as a C student, you must take a D student for the next assignment, you hate it even more. It’s not that you don’t want to work with someone who did even worse than you did, but you had the perfect scenario planned out in your head to prepare for Professor Jang’s assignment and emerge victoriously.

You still haven’t forgiven Junhui for playing you the last time and you never will unless you get your justice and get a good shot of him for your portfolio. It’s sad how you worry more about passing the subject you’re minoring in instead of the one you’re majoring in. But it’s Professor Jang after all, and you rather resort to more unethical morals than crushing under her agonizingly high standards to even get a satisfactory grade.

If it weren’t for Seungkwan and his stupid grade restriction, you would’ve called the dibs on Junhui, work with him for the next partnered assignment and secretly take pictures of him to throw into your portfolio and shove up Professor Jang’s face, since she absolutely adores him. At least there is a tiny loophole to pass her classes with ease. Bless Junhui’s impressive history as a child actor back in China. Maybe not bless him completely though, just a quarter. You’d rather throw him off a cliff first until you get a goddamn picture of him.

“Ah, I’m fucked,” you huff and carelessly drop the sheet on your desk.

“Being a cocksucker isn’t the end of the world,” Mingyu starts and you’re quick to cut him off.

“Don’t ever, ever use ‘cocksucker’ in that context again. And no, I wasn’t referring to my grade. Okay, it has a little to do with it but I am fucked in a sense of I can’t partner up with Jun–”

“I see where this is going.” Mingyu shakes his head and adds, “Don’t break your head about photography class too much. It isn’t even your major!”

“But it’s Professor Jang! I have every right to stress about my minor. Plus, I still need my payback after that stunt Junhui pulled on me.”

“As if it was that bad.”

“I snuck onto Professor Jang’s computer and found her stan twitter and Tumblr account. Not to forget her old ao3 account where she posted Marvel and Haikyuu fanfics. If that doesn’t sound like a traumatic experience to you then I don’t know anymore,” you deadpan. This isn’t supposed to spread amongst the students because you are certain, at one point someone is going to find out that it was you who found out and then Professor Jang is going to give you literal hell.

Also, you really don’t want to recall any of Professor Jang’s writings from back when she was still a student. (It’s not that her writing was bad, but her writing fanfiction out of all things is the last thing you expected from her.)

“Oh.” is everything Mingyu can fire back with.

You sigh and focus on the problem at hand. If you can’t secretly take pictures of Junhui at a convenient setting, then you’d have to either wait for a new opportunity like this or actually resort to borderline stalking him. As handsome as he is (of course you admit that, everyone can agree that he is indeed a very handsome guy) you don’t want to stoop as low as some other photography students who really go through with the latter for the sake of Professor Jang. But then again, doesn’t taking snapshots of him without his consent also count as stalking?

No, it’s all for a good cause. One picture never killed anybody before, not at this university, that is.

You’re so immersed in your thoughts that you don’t realize someone is standing in front of you until they tap your shoulder. You flinch and look up to a smiling and visibly calmer Seokmin.

“Hey, are you still free for a partner? I mean, only if you’re a C student. I’m sorry if you’re not one. It’s just, I overheard Mingyu saying that being a C student isn’t the end of the world and he directed it at you and–”

Before Seokmin ultimately becomes a tongue-tied mess, you say, “Sure.”

A wave of relief washes over Seokmin but his happiness fades away the moment Mingyu decides to butt in. “Good luck with Y/N’s current state. Y/N will need at least a week to cool down and focus on the assignment instead of complaining about not being Jun’s partner.”

You snap your head at Mingyu, staring him down with your what the actual fuck look and hastily defend yourself. “I swear, it’s not as bad as he makes it out to be! The context in this is so wrong–”

However, your defense falls on deaf ears.

“So… you’re crushing on Jun?” Seokmin asks in disbelief. Genuine curiosity is etched on his face and there’s no trace of disappointment whatsoever.

“Of course not!” you snort and you’re pretty sure that your pupils are shaking, desperately looking for any justified explanation that is not playing his fansite for a moment. “It’s just– uh, you know how they say that he’s the best actor on campus. I thought that’d be the best approach to ace the next evaluation.”

Thank God Seokmin is oblivious and doesn’t question the obvious lie you threw at him. Up until now, Mingyu has witnessed the entire situation and this time, he’s the one who sends you the what the fuck look. He’s about to interject and expose your true nature, but Seokmin is quick to respond.

“Maybe I can get Jun and his partner to practice with us a few times. No, not maybe, I’ll definitely succeed in that.” he smiles brightly, just as if he has hit the greatest realization.

You lift your brows in surprise and go along with him. “That’d be awesome! You think you could really arrange that?”

“Yeah!” he nods excitedly before agreeing to meet up sometime later in the week and skips back to his seat.

“I can’t believe you actually managed to do that. Seokmin basically handed you the invitation to be near Jun.” Mingyu deadpans.

You send him an innocent smile and shrug. “What can I say? Karma loves me.”

You recall that Professor Jang used to write Kagehina fanfiction and her bookmarks on ao3 all consisted of homosexual plot without porn. You could care less about her sexual preferences or orientation or whatever the right term is, but you’re pretty damn sure that she’d act like one of those Tumblr stans whenever they see two members of the same group up close and personal with each other. The picture of Professor Jang’s adoration for Junhui is up to the roof (at least, that’s what you think) so if you put these two elements together, she would explode.

Honestly, you can see the appeal of it. The real question is, who does not want to see Junhui trapping Seokmin against the wall like they usually do in romance anime?

“Don’t be panicked, Seok. The love interest is supposed to stay unbothered!” Kyulkyung, Junhui’s partner, shouts beside you.

“I would like to be unbothered but it’s impossible when he’s literally breathing down my neck!” Seokmin whines back and tries to become one with the wall, lurching away from Jun. The latter, however, isn’t having it and rearranges his hands even closer to Seokmin’s head, up until the point where he slunks down and tries to escape from below.

That seems to seal the deal because Junhui immediately retreats and lets out a long sigh. “Seok, you need to relax.”

“I want to see you try to stay still with someone invading your personal space,” Seokmin mutters back as he looks over the script again. “We’ve already established that Y/N is the love interest, so why am I taking over this role?”

“I was just demonstrating how intimidating you have to be so that Y/N can pull off the role well. The love interest is supposed to feel uncomfortable but try to stay sane about it. You get it so far?”

“Yes!” Seokmin exclaims. Jun, on the other hand, doesn’t seem too convinced yet and sends Kyulkyung a pleading look.

“Kyul, can you try the lead on him?”

Without hesitation, Kyulkyung jumps up from her seat and marches over to the front of the auditorium. “You ready?” she asks Seokmin with a sweet and encouraging smile.

“Whenever you’re– eek!” Seokmin lets out a shrill high-pitched shriek when Kyulkyung slams both of her hands beside his head, invades his personal space even more than Junhui did and stares up at him coldly. It takes your best to not fall on the floor out of laughter and it looks like Junhui is having a hard time suppressing a devilish grin.

“I think I’m gonna get some drinks. This is making me tired. Anyone want something? Seokmin?” Kyulkyung instantly drops the boldface and returns to her usual, bubbly personality. Seokmin, still in shock and so close to suffering from heart palpitations, slides down the wall and only brings out a shaky nod.

“Water for him if you don’t mind,” you shout from the audience. Kyulkyung rogers that and is about to take off when Junhui says,

“Seok looks like he needs to say the light of day. You mind taking him with you?”

“You’re right. He does look like he’s about to die soon,” Kyulkyung agrees and crouches down to his level. “C’mon, let’s get some snacks.”

“Huh? Y-yeah, sure.” Even his legs are wobbly when Kyulkyung pulls him on his feet. Luckily, it doesn’t take long until he doesn’t walk like a drunk guy and with that, only two were left in the auditorium.

It’s not that you aren’t on speaking terms with Junhui, but the silence is still comfortable for you. Junhui wastes no time and picks up the script, his nose scrunching up a few times as he mumbles the words under his breath. You remain seated in the front row, your own script covering the lower half of your face. With him concentrating on memorizing the words, it’s the perfect time to snag some snapshots.

(You would’ve taken pictures of Junhui sandwiching Seokmin, but you don’t want to burden Seokmin even more and include him in your portfolio without his consent.)

You fish your phone out of your pocket and carefully let the camera lens peak over the script, your eyes flickering between Junhui and Junhui on the screen. He seems to remain oblivious and you pray that Kyulkyung and Seokmin won’t return anytime soon.

He suddenly stops talking and you hide your phone completely, feigning innocence. Junhui doesn’t pay you any attention though and rolls his shoulders back before he picks up his practice. However, this time he’s started to walk around the stage and swing his free arm around. You don’t see how in the world doing some exercises whilst practicing his lines is doing him any good right now.

Things start to go downhill for you the moment he drops the script and cages air between him and the wall. With the quick, sharp movements he’s doing, it’s pretty much impossible to take a clean shot of him. Even if it’s Junhui, Professor Jang won’t accept any blurry photograph as satisfactory. Also, you want to spare yourself from overusing Photoshop on one single picture.

You’re so immersed in holding up your script as natural as possible and simultaneously trying to find a good angle with your phone that you completely miss the presence sneaking from behind you.

“You're supposed to be practicing, not be on your phone, my dear child!”

You welp and instantly drop the phone on your lap followed by the script as you crane your head back and see Professor Yee towering above you. You’ve got used to his rather… eccentric choice of clothing and lollipop in his mouth.

“How long have you been standing there?!” you squeak and stand up, your phone and script now tucked under your arm. “Also, don’t scare a student like that!”

“I’ve got my ways, Y/N,” Professor Yee singsongs before he pays Junhui some attention too. “I just wanted to stop by. I didn’t know that you two decided to pair up for the upcoming evaluation!”

“We’re not!” both of you deny that claim in sync.

Not seeming to connect the dots, Professor Yee tilts his head to the side. “Why not?”

“Because he’s an asshat! I’m a cock–” he suddenly shoots you a horrified expression and then you get what you just said. Oh, fuck Seungkwan.

“Y/N’s a C student and I’m a got an A in the last evaluation. We decided to practice together as four with our respective partners several times,” Junhui steps in for you.

“How marvelous!” Professor Yee exclaims excitedly and drops down on one of the chairs. “I guess that you–” he points at Junhui, “–are the lead and you–” he gestures to you, “–are preparing the love interest. Isn’t that right?”

“Um, yeah,” you nod.

“Good! Then action!”

You need a while for the words to process in your brain. “Wait what?”

“I wanna see what you’ve done so far!”

“But we’re not partners–”

“Who cares? It’s not the official monthly evaluation yet, is it?”

“He’s right,” Junhui mimics, “It’s not the official evaluation yet, so let’s go through it once!”

With Professor Yee’s expectant eyes gleaming at you and Junhui’s indirect challenge, you have no other choice than to comply. Sighing, you place your script and phone on the chair and huff, “Fine. Let’s get it over already.”

While you and Junhui are slowly getting into character, Professor Yee picks up your script, flips through the pages and reads the instructions out loud with way too much enthusiasm. “Scene one, act three. Person A is completely done with B’s bullshit and decides to confront them then and there. Action!”

Junhui slams both of his hands beside your head as a sly smirk adorns his lips. “We need to talk.”

For a second, you’re starstruck. The guy just a few inches away from you is no longer Junhui pretending to be someone. It’s like he’s completely taken over the role and Junhui doesn’t exist right now. His hooded eyes hint danger and his close proximity causes goosebumps to form on your skin. You know you’re slightly shaking and now you understand why Seokmin had acted the way he did. You really didn’t expect Junhui’s acting to be so overwhelming.

But unlike Seokmin, you manage to stay in character.

“Are you serious? Get off me,” you spit out the words filled with disgust and try to push him away. He doesn’t give in though and instead, forces himself on you even more up to the point where his breath hits your face.

“We need to talk.”

You purse your lips and try your best to stay unaffected while he continues. “I don’t appreciate you doing things behind my back when they very much concern me too. I may have let it slide once or twice, but if I ever see you trying to take pictures of me in a painfully obvious way one more time, you’ll regret it.”

Wait a minute. That’s not part of the script. That’s definitely not part of the script.

Your mouth goes dry and your cheeks heat up once you realize he’s known all along. Suddenly, you feel like becoming one with the wall just like Seokmin.

“That’s not part of the script!” you scream and break out of character, pushing him away from you but that’s not enough to wipe the wicked grin out of his face.

“So what? You should’ve gone with it instead of breaking character! Ten minus points for Slytherin!” Professor Yee fires back. “There’s this thing called improvisation, y’know?”

You scoff at that lame justification. “That’s not the point of this evaluation!”

“But this isn't the official evaluation, my child.”

Beside you, Junhui can barely contain his laughter. It takes all of your might to not punch him in the gut.

“My work here is done,” Professor Yee stands up and dusts of imaginary dust of his pants. “You’re both doing a great job. Well, see you in the next lesson!”

Both you and Junhui force feign innocence until the professor is out the door. The moment the door falls in its lock, Junhui turns at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Heh, you’re easy to catch off guard. It’s even more amusing than seeing Seokmin go wild at parties.”

“Oh shut up.”

“I can’t believe you called yourself a cocksucker in front of the professor,” he snickers.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d just suck it up and be my goddamn model for one an hour!” you scowl back at him.

Just as if you just flipped a switch in him, you suddenly find yourself pressed up against the wall. Junhui’s expression is teasing, but there’s something else lies under it. Whether it’s pissed off or you really want to be killed huh, you can’t really deduce. Whatever it is, it’s not necessarily calming.

“I wasn’t joking when I said that,” he smiles at you. It’s not the genuine smile that makes you feel welcome, but the genuine smile that promises he won’t break this promise.

He’s about to add on to that when the door flies open and Kyulkyung awkwardly asks, “We’re not interrupting something, aren’t we?”

“Nope! Just acting!” you say and push Junhui away. At least he has the decency to play along and keep your dispute a secret.

What he doesn’t keep for himself though, is that Professor Yee popped in and how you called yourself a cocksucker in front of him.

[dontshootmespence]

Supernatural AU: Episode 4 - Devoid

Part 4 

“Do you realize how many favors I had to call in to make this deal happen?” Bobby asked. He’d called all over the place asking people that owed him where Bobbie, Dean and Sam could pick up some African Dream Root. It was the only thing he knew of that would allow them to enter the dream of another. “Three, B. I had to call in three favors to get you this stuff, so you better make it work.” He sucked at veiling threats – the shakiness in his voice, the nervousness about the kids he loved going up against something even he and John had never defeated, was more than evident. The Winchesters did hate to make Bobby worry, but they also never stopped, even in the face of something they didn’t truly understand.

“We will Bobby.”

Dean knocked on the door of the warehouse where they were meeting the hunter that was able to get her hands on something so rare. Clara Ogden was fairly well known for hunting alone and taking on small jobs to benefit the little guy while obtaining rare supernatural items to benefit hunters as a whole. As a small redhead, she was consistently underestimated – wrongly so. She was not one to be trifled with. “Knock SOS, right?”

Bobby grunted in response. He was less than thrilled with this whole situation and on top of that he was more than two days away by car so even if something happened, he couldn’t do anything quickly.

With three quick knocks, three drawn out ones and another three quick ones, the hunter opened the door. “You must be the Winchesters,” she crooned, her red hair curtaining her face as she peered out of the warehouse to make sure they hadn’t been followed. “This is some heavy stuff you’re looking for. Can I ask what it’s for?”

Bobbie shook her head not wanting to give anyone information that wasn’t necessary, but Dean was always a bit boastful. “A Baku. We need to get inside someone’s head.” Actually, they still hadn’t decided who was going to be the one volunteering for that wonderful task yet. “So what did Bobby have to give you for you to hand this over?” The whole credit card scam thing didn’t allow for any money to be offered for this.

“He made me a promise, that he, and you all, would owe me a favor. You’re good at what you do and I always collect, so keep your ears open for that.” Undoubtedly another life or death situation would be plopped onto their proverbial doorstep. Or maybe just a random werewolf or spirit. Hopefully the latter, probably the former.

They’d followed her into the warehouse she operated out of, which felt strangely homey despite the fact that it was an old, concrete building. There were pictures here and there, little knick-knacks and things that made it pretty obvious she lived out of this place too. Sam found himself thinking back to his dorm room, while Bobbie remembered the few short months of her life where she had something like this. In the corner of the room was a locked box that was shackled to the floor. “Keep your eyes somewhere else. I’m not about to let you see the combo to this bad boy. Too much valuable crap in here.”

The siblings huffed and turned around so Clara could get what they needed. When she gave them the okay, they turned back around. She was carrying a small palm full of what looked like twigs. “This is African Dream Root?” Bobbie asked. She had seen it before; it just didn’t look like anything special.

“This is it,” she laughed. “You need to make a tea with it. Three quarters of an inch of one of these twigs, tablespoon each of ground ginger and cinnamon. One teaspoon of honey and one uncontaminated piece of the dreamer’s DNA. It can be hair, saliva, snot, whatever you want.”

“Who wants snot?” Sam asked, putting his fist up to his mouth as he tried not to gag.

Clara stifled a snicker. “Well no one wants it, but I do know a hunter that had to use boogers once. He said he brushed his teeth five times a day for a week and took one of those juice cleanses trying to feel clean again.”

“I can imagine,” Dean said, shivering.

“Remind me to shove a booger in your faces sometime,” Bobbie laughed, taking in the queasy looks on their faces. “Babies. That’s what makes you feel the need to clean? Just weeks ago I had that sleazeball grab my ass; that was cleanse worthy.”

Dean very seriously pointed at her. “You touch me with snot and I will not be responsible for what happens to you.”

“Baby.”

“Ass.”

Clara shoved the dream root in Sam’s hand and coaxed them out the door. Something about the way she followed them toward the door made Bobbie wonder if Clara was in the middle of a job of her own. “Okay, kids. Be on your way…and good luck with this. I don’t know anyone who’s killed a Baku before.”

As they walked out, past an old but nevertheless comfy looking couch, they all had to suppress to urge to just stay there and relax. “Neither do we.”

-

With the dream root in hand and a quick stop at the local convenience store to grab the other mundane items they’d need, the three hunters got back into the car and started heading to their destination. Apparently, they had different destinations in mind.

“Where are you going?” Bobbie asked.

“Back to the Nostrand’s place,” Dean replied slowly.

“We can’t go there.”

Sam spoke up from the backseat. “What do you mean? That’s where the Baku is. In Thomas’s head.”

“Yea, exactly,” Bobbie replied. “Jenna never told her husband what she did and her son doesn’t know either. What? We go in and tell the little boy, ‘hey, the reason you’re feeling like shit is because your mom called out to an ancient Japanese dream eater and now it’s eating your brain from the inside out?’ We need to be near the dreamer for this to work, so I think we might be out of luck on that front.”

Sighing, Sam’s head fell back into the seat. “So you’re saying that one of us needs to call this thing.”

“Yea, that’s what I’m saying.” It was less than ideal, but she really didn’t see another way to go about this. She wasn’t about to let another child die at their own hands if there was anything they might be able to do to stop it.

“No,” Dean interjected. “No freakin way.” Despite his protestations, he turned the wheel of the car back toward their motel. “If it has to be one of us I’m going in.”

Not over Bobbie’s dead body. “No way. I am,” she said, turning to the back seat to cut Sam off. Dean was waving wildly trying to protest, but she wasn’t about to let it go. “I’m not discussing this. When we get back I’ll call it and you two get in my head.”

“What if it’s hungry and starts eating what little hope you have left?” Dean exploded out of nowhere. Ever since Bobbie had mentioned that she could easily eat the butt of a gun, Dean found himself waking up randomly in the middle of the night to make sure she was still breathing. With John being the absentee father he was, Bobbie was all he had in terms of someone to look up to; losing her would kill him.

Then maybe she could sleep? God, that was morbid. She needed help. Too bad all they could afford was booze. “That’s a chance we have to take and I’m not willing to leave you two open to that.”

“And what if we’re not willing to let it be you?” Sam asked.

“If we live through this, you can spot me one ‘throwing-yourself-in-the-line-of-fire’ deal a piece, okay?”

Neither was okay with it, by any means, but they had no time to waste – a little boy’s hopes and dreams were hanging in limbo.

-

Back inside their dank motel room, Sam readied the tea and walked toward the computer, trying to be nonchalant about his intent. Bobbie could tell he was looking for how to call the Baku so he could do it himself, but before he could, Bobbie plucked out two strands of hair from her head, placed them into the two teacups and called out. “Baku-san, come eat me dream. Baku-san, come eat my dream. Baku-san, come eat my dream.”

Sam muttered under his breath. “Dammit.”

“What? You didn’t think I could tell one of you asshats was going to try and go behind my back?”

Dean wasn’t thrilled with Sam either. If anyone was going to do this, he wanted it to be him. “What if the call only works when kids use it?”

“Then we’re fucked,” she replied, pulling off her boots and flopping down onto the bed. “We have to hope it’ll answer my call. Now, if you boys don’t mind, I’m going to get some shut eye.”

She was out in less than five minutes, leaving Sam and Dean to drink the tea infused with dream root and hope for the best. “We have to kill this thing, Sam. Whatever it takes.” He swallowed hard as he looked down at her sleeping, almost peaceful. “We can’t lose her. Not like this.” None of them expected a long or happy life, but if they were going to die young it was going to be in the heat of battle, not at their own hands.

“Not in any way,” Sam said softly. “Not ever. Let’s do this.”

-

The tea must’ve put them to sleep instantly because the next thing they knew, Sam and Dean were standing in the middle of stark blackness, more alert and ‘awake’ then they’d been in a long damn time. “Okay, so we’re in?” Sam asked aloud as he patted at his coat. “Why is it dark?”

“She’s not dreaming yet,” he said quietly. To be honest, he wasn’t sure how any of this was working, so he felt the need to keep his voice down so they wouldn’t wake her.  

In the distance, a hint of light emerged. The boys took a few steps forward and suddenly found themselves staring into the window of a wooden cabin amidst a forest of changing autumn leaves. Bobbie sat inside with a cup of coffee in her hand and was dressed in nothing but a flannel shirt. “Who’s that?” Sam asked when another woman emerged. Something about her was familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

Dean felt heated tears sting at the corners of his eyes. “That’s Zoe Worley,” he replied. He’d met her only once, but from what Bobbie had told him, she was one of the best experiences of her life – a peak into the normal. It was one of the few times in his life that even he questioned his father bringing them up as hunters. She’d been so close to happiness. “Bobbie’s one and only ex. The only person she’s ever cared about outside the family.”

“I met her?” Sam asked.

“Once.”

“What happened to them?”

As the scene played out before them, Bobbie and Zoe just sitting in front of the fire and talking to each other, Dean told Sam about what happened. Bobbie never spoke about it. The only reason Dean knew anything was because he’d been there. “Zoe got taken by a nest of vamps. It was when Bobbie was working with Dad by herself and you and I were in school. Dad asked me to come and help, so the three of us took out the nest and saved her, but she broke things off with Bobbie and told her never to contact her again.”

Sam eyes darted from the window. He’d been so close to having what lay before him with Jessica, but the hunter’s life took no prisoners. All of them had deluded themselves at one point or another into thinking they could break away. “I imagine Jess would’ve said the same thing.”

Before Dean could say anything, the scene before them changed from one that was warm and hopeful to one that felt cold despite the fact that they were inside the Impala – the closest thing to a home they had.

Their gossamer selves sat crammed in the back, watching as the fight played out before them. “Would the two of you stop?” Bobbie screamed.

But they were ignoring her. “He’s not doing this!” Dean screamed. “It’s not happening!”

“You’re not Dad. You don’t get to tell me what I do and don’t get to do.”

What was this even in reference to? What were they fighting about? The two dream-walkers exchanged a glance in hopes that the other might be able to shed some light on what they were fighting about, but neither knew.

“It’s too dangerous!” Dean yelled again. “You could die.”

“And so could you!” Sam bellowed. “It’s just that you have so little regard for your life that you don’t care. Neither of you. You’re so done with this that if you die, then fuck it, whatever, but that leaves me here without you, so no. I’m doing this!”

As they continued to fight, the brothers that had been observing couldn’t help but notice how accurately Bobbie had pegged them. Dean was done; like Bobbie he’d been put through too much and just wanted it to stop. Sam didn’t want to be alone, especially knowing that he failed his brother and sister. He already carried enough guilt about the night their mother died.

Just as Bobbie was about to open her mouth again, a pair of headlights shone into the Impala. An 18-wheeler was barreling toward them and Dean jerked the car to the right, hoping to get out of the way, but a metallic clang alerted them that they’d been clipped. As the Impala spun around, the three unaware siblings screamed, trying to steady themselves as the car slammed into the side of the weakened concrete bridge and went over the edge into the icy cold water below.

“Where the hell is this thing?” Sam asked. The Baku was supposed to be here, taking away the nightmare, but it was nowhere to be seen.

Dean looked around frantically, praying it would show up sooner rather than later and fearing the worst. “Maybe it didn’t work.”

@remember-me-forever-silent-angel @gaylemonshark  @marveldivergentouatdctvfangirl @lalirang @averagekansan @addsomesalt @stusbunker @sebba-hiddles @fanfictionrecommendations-com @hoppy519 @thatwrestlingfan91 @extremeobsessions101 @spence-imagines @bettercallsabs @whaaatthefuuuuck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @your-imagination-runs-wild @cryinglots @steggy01 @gigilame @sedulous-mind @a-unique-girls-heaven @just-antiyou @rmmalta @original-criminal-fanfics @ties-n-suits @veroinnumera @eurusholmmes @fanficienjoyedreading @astridstark13​ @ties-n-suits​ @demonlover87​ @kennybud​ @shittyafblogwnopoint​ @pleasantlyfadingpeace​ @bulldozed88 @a-gir1-has-n0-name​

[new-blog-new-things-blog]

Are you kidding me?! Part 3

Bucky x Reader

Word count: 2163

Warnings: Swearing?

Slow burn af

The next day arrived a lot faster than I would have liked it to as I sat up in bed, attempting to run my hand through my hair, struggling with the knots. Shower, that is exactly what I need right now, you can't be stressed in a shower right? I make my way towards what I presume to be my bathroom and turn my light on, hot damn look at that beauty! That looked like a power shower to me, I always wanted one of those! Quickly I stripped off and put my clothes into a pile in the corner of the room. As I turned to enter the shower I see a button, it read 'heated towel rack'. Score. As I pushed it I'm pretty sure I actually squealed! I spun to locate said rack only to find it empty.

Great, just great. That's all I need right now.

I have lost my best friend, family, apartment, I mean I didn't have a job but any potential job opportunities and now I have no towels in my goddamn bathroom.

With a sigh I put my clothes back on, feeling more deflated than ever, where am I even going to find towels in this place? I must have asked the question out loud because a voice coming from nowhere answered me.

"Towels are located on the 2nd floor Miss L/N."

I swear I actually screamed. Like girl about to get axed in a movie screamed.

"What the fuck! Who is there?!"

I frantically scanned my room trying to locate where the voice had come from.

"No need to be alarmed Miss L/N, my name is J.A.R.V.I.S. I am Mr Starks A.I unit and I am here to assist you where needed."

"An A.I unit. Right. Okay. I think I remember the lady last night mentioning you, erm nice to meet you?"

Christ I was genuinely talking to a computer. What has my life come to?

"Nice to meet you too Miss. As I stated to you earlier towels are located on the 2nd floor, would you like me to guide you to them?"

Okay so the computer is friendly. A friendly computer. Christ.

"Are any of the others awake J.A.R.V.I.S? Because I really can't deal with that right now."

"All other occupants are awake Miss."

Fuck. Okay. Let's take a risk here.

"Okay J.A.R.V.I.S do you think you could help me, I presume you know about what I can do right?"

"Of course Miss that's what I am programmed for, I am also updated on your file."

Okay here goes nothing.

"Okay J.A.R.V.I.S I am placing a lot of trust in you right now so I really hope you don't break that trust. I am pretty scared and freaked out, so what I am going to do is turn myself into a cat and you are going to take me to the towels and if we see anyone you can't tell them it's me okay? Promise me you will just say I am some random cat or something?"

It was silent for a minute like it was thinking, can computers think? Is it even a computer?

"Security protocols accepted."

"Wait does that mean you will do it?"

"Yes miss, I have lit up the way towards the towels."

I went to my door and surely enough along the floor of the hallway was a row of lights lit up seemingly showing me to the way.

"Thank you J.A.R.V.I.S you are a legend."

Closing my eyes and getting myself ready to shift again, I decide to change it up this time and become a ginger cat because why not? The ache spread over my body as my form once again shifted. Once it was over I stretched my feline body out, trying to get comfortable in it as I slowly made my way out of room, following the lights. They led me to the elevator and I cautiously get in, the doors shut behind me and took me down 9 stops. Right so I am on the 10th floor, I locked that information away in my head. The door opened with a small ding and more light lit up for me to follow. Finally I reached my destination, right now comes the difficult bit, I reach up and take a towel into my mouth and drag it back to the elevator and the doors close once more.

This trip didn't go as smoothly as the previous. Only 2 floors away from mine the doors open again and I come face to face with a tall, dirty blond man that had muscles for days. He stares at me, confusion lining his face. Crap.

"J.A.R.V.I.S why is there a cat here?"

"Pease ignore the cat Mr Barton."

At least J.A.R.V.I.S is on my side, I stare, unblinking at this man and slowly start recognising him as Hawkeye.

"J.A.R.V.I.S whose cat is this?"

To be honest he looks more confused than suspicious so I may just get away with this.

"It is my cat Mr Barton."

I am so not getting away with this.

Goddamn it J.A.R.V.I.S we were doing so well.

"Right well we'll see about that. Call everyone to the common room please."

With that he comes over and starts stroking me. Wow this is gunna be awkward story. Maybe I can make a run for it when the doors open. As I was just thinking this, Hawkeye scoops me up in his arms.

"You're a pretty little thing aren’t you?" He coo's at me. Yep definitely awkward. The doors open again and he walks out with me, towel forgotten. Wait why had he questioned the cat but not the towel. He leans against the counter not letting me down. Slowly everyone makes their way to the common room, what a great way to meet my new neighbours. As a cat. Most didn't even comment on me in his arms, they just stated waiting for an explanation.

"Clint you cannot keep that. Tony wouldn't let you have your dog here, why would a cat be any different?"

Oh crap, the star spangled man himself.  I really hope he hadn't seen that video.

"Oh just wait cap you are going to love this!"

Clint replied with a laugh. Tony and Bruce were the last to arrive.

"What's going on Barton? Is that a cat?"  

Tony remarked eyeing me up, this is going to be awful. Clint finally puts me down on the side.

"Tony your A.I has decided to adopt a cat. Why does J.A.R.V.I.S get a pet but I can't have my dog here? That is totally unfair."

Everyone turned to Tony, who looked just as confused as the rest of them, this was such a bad plan.

"J.A.R.V.I.S mind filling us in buddy?"

"The cat is mine sir."

J.A.R.V.I.S replied. Man I guess he really is on my side here. Tony ran a hand through his hair.

"Okay fair enough, what's its name and I will get a collar made for it."

Tony shrugged and went to make his way over to me, I jumped down off the counter just as Clint popped up.

"Why does the A.I get a pet and I can't have my dog?"

"J.A.R.V.I.S is the most dependable of all us, he runs everything and pretty much keeps us alive. If he wants a cat he can have a cat. Will you just get it for me?"

They both made a bee line towards me and ran to the middle of the room looking for an exit. Well I guess it's now or never, man I hate quick shifts, this is gunna hurt like a bitch. With surprising quickness I shift back into my human form.

"You are not collaring me!"

Okay probably not the best first words I could say. As 2 sets of guns were trained on me and my arms were suddenly grabbed and pinned behind my back and a cold arm went around my neck. Wait what the fuck? Was that metal? Did this guy genuinely have a metal arm?!

"Who are you?"

The words were almost growled in my ear. If I wasn't fearing for my life I would have said it was pretty hot, to be honest I would have said anything at this point but this dickhead was cutting off my air supply.

"Mr Barnes, Miss L/N is struggling to breathe, could you please loosen your grip?"

I am really starting to like J.A.R.V.I.S, but this asshat only let's go enough that I start to cough.

"J.A.R.V.I.S I am presuming that this is the new recruit that got here last night and not some enemy that's here to kill us?"

Steve says slowly making his way towards me and my captor, his arms out in a non-threatening manner. I think it's a bit late for that captain I am already being fucking manhandled.

"Yes Captain Rogers, Miss L/N arrived last night, she is an ally and now part of the Avengers."

You tell them J.A.R.V.I.S.

"Okay Bucky you heard him now let her go, she isn't going to hurt anyone."

Steve's arms were still out, hmm maybe the reassuring vibe wasn't for me at all, but for this Bucky instead. He releases me and I fall to the floor gulping air down, trying to control my breathing.

“Are you okay down there?”

Tony came over and knelt in front of me offering me a hand up, I didn’t take it and got up on my own.

“I think I am good but it seems some people have no chill.”

I gave a pointed look and Bucky, Black Widow and the other man in which I didn’t yet know the name of.

“Sorry about that but you should know not to startle assassins, super soldiers and Sam.”

Tony chuckled, I rolled my eyes at him.

“I will add that to the list of things I should remember thanks. Hi I am Y/N by the way.”

I give a small wave then feel like such an idiot for waving, I clasp my hands behind my back.

Everyone introduced themselves except Bucky who was just avoiding my gaze like he hadn’t just been strangling me. With that thought I tenderly touch my neck, pain shoots to where I touch and I know I am going to have a wicked bruise there.

“I saw your video kid, I think you captured Steve perfectly. You will fit right in here if you carry on like that”

Tony said coming up to me and putting his hand on my shoulder. I snuck a look at Steve, he looked pained and slightly tinged pink, damn he had seen it.

“Yeah sorry about that, nobody was supposed to see that…”

I trailed off not really having the right words to say at that particular moment.

“What video?”

Sam asked with a smirk, he hadn’t seen it?

“It was in email about Y/N? You didn’t read it did you?”

Bruce answered before Tony could chip in with another snide comment.

“No one but you, Tony and Steve read those. I will have to check that out later.”

Sam sent a wink at Steve who looked like he would rather be anywhere but here right now. Same Steve, same.

“Okay quick update then Y/N is- for lack of words a shapeshifter, who also has the ability to talk to animals. Not cleared for missions yet but we will get her training as soon as possible, everyone up to speed?”

Tony look at me for either confirmation or for me to add anything else on but I just nodded my head at him. Natasha, Clint and Bucky were just watching me as if they were assessing my every move, it was very unnerving but I suppose that’s what you get with assassins.

“So can you only turn into cats or what?”

Sam commented with a smirk as if he was playing a game or flirting with me, okay if he wanted to play that game. I took a deep breath and focused on him, the look on his face as I turned myself in to him was perfect.

“I dunno is this a good enough for you pretty boy?”

I winked at him and he looked like he was really holding back a smile. I concentrated again and I was back in my own body, not breaking eye contact with him I clicked my neck and smiled.

“Okay I claim this one, come on I’ll give you a tour around the compound.”

Sam came to my side and held out an arm for me to take, without looking back I let him lead me away from the common room and back to the elevator. Waiting for the doors to open, I felt some ones gaze burning into my back. We walked in and I glanced over my shoulder to meet Bucky’s eyes, I didn’t look away from him until the doors shut behind me.

Part 2                                                                                      Part 4

[angelwingspaintedinthestars]

Sparklers and Stars (Part One)

Charlie Bradbury x Reader

You are the Winchester’s sister, you’re in love with Charlie, but you know your life isn’t safe for her, so you settle for making as many happy memories with her as you can, but your brothers are determined to get you to admit your feelings. When Charlie decides she wants to celebrate the Fourth of July with you and the boys will the truth come out?

Fluff

You sit in the library cleaning your gun as Charlie types furiously on her computer, her lip caught between her teeth as she stares intently at the screen. Your eyes flit over her every feature your hands moving over the pieces of your gun, muscle memory taking over as you concentrate on the girl you love. She was unique and beautiful, even if she doesn’t see it. Her red hair falls around her shoulders like a wave of fire, true to her firey soul. A smile slides onto your face watching her, she was the light of your life. 

“Y/N can I ask you something?” Charlie’s voice floats across the room to you as she looks up to meet your (y/e/c) eyes. 

“What’s up?” You ask setting your gun on the table and leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees.

“When was the last time you Winchesters ever celebrated a holiday?” 

You stare at her for a moment trying to remember the last time you ever celebrated anything other than a successful hunt. 

“No idea honestly. Why do you ask?” Her eyes are wide and she jumps up slamming her laptop closed making you jump.

“You don’t remember? Then that’s way too long!” She rushes towards you and plops down in the chair next to you. “Then we need to do something! The fourth of July is coming up, we should do something! Fireworks, food, the works!”

You look at her skeptically, but the look on her face was to beautiful to deny. You smile gently and nod. 

“I’ll talk to the boys, see if they’re up for a party.” She grins and throws herself into your lap wrapping her arms around your neck. Your arms wrap around her waist relishing this moment while it lasted. 

“Thank you! I’m going to start making plans!” She pushes away from you and grabs her computer disappearing down the hall to her room. Sighing you stand up and head to find your brothers. You step into the garage where Dean is under the Impala tinkering with something while Sam leans against it drinking a beer. You cross your arms and lean against your motorcycle.

“Charlie wants to celebrate the fourth of July. Fireworks, the whole shebang.” You say looking at Sam, his eyebrows scrunch together and Dean slides out from under the Impala.

“Why?” Dean asks sitting up and wiping his hands on a rag. 

“She asked how long it had been since we celebrated a holiday, and honestly I can’t remember the last time we celebrated anything.” you say and Sam nods.

“Last time I remember celebrating anything was Christmas after we ganked those Pagan asshats.” Dean says sliding underneath the car again. 

“What all does she want to do?” Sam asked taking a swig of his beer. 

“Fireworks, food, the works is what she said. She ran off to her room said she was going to start making plans.” You say brushing your long (y/h/c) hair over your shoulder. 

“Sounds like a plan to me. It’s been a long time since we’ve had just a good time.” Sam says with a smile. 

“I’ll go tell Charlie.”

“You told her how you feel yet?” Dean asks and you roll your eyes.

“No Dean. I haven’t and I won’t.”

“Why not?” 

“You know why.” You snap and he rolls back from under the car and sits up looking at you sternly.

“Charlie isn’t her Y/N. You deserve to be happy, and don’t pull that it’s too dangerous crap because its not true. She’s been with us through so much shit she can handle herself. I know you like the back of my hand little sister, and you deserve to have a little bit of happy.” He lectures and you glare at him before pushing off the motorcycle to stalk towards the door. 

“Y/N come on wait.” Sam says following you after throwing a disapproving look towards your oldest brother. “Y/N wait.”

“What Sam?” You say whirling around to face him, he puts his hands up in defense raising his brows. 

“Y/N we just want you to be happy. You care about Charlie, we know you do. Now I’m not going to say anything, but I think you should. You’ll regret it one day if you don’t.” He says placing his giant hand against your cheek with a sad smile before kissing you on the forehead and disappearing back into the garage.

“Jerks!” you call after him.

“Bitch!” They yell back making you roll your eyes before you head towards Charlies room to tell her the news.

*******************************************************************************************

You sit on the hood of the Impala watching as Charlie sets up fireworks in the middle of the field for later tonight. You take a swig of your beer a smile on your face as she instructs Cass where to place them. You look up as Sam joins you on the hood and smiles at you. 

“What?” You say raising an eyebrow.

“You watching Charlie?” He asks taking a drink of his beer. You shoot him a glare making him laugh.

“Shut up Sam.” You say turning your attention back to Charlie who sends you a heartbreaking smile. The corner of your mouth lifts as she laughs lighting up the fading afternoon with joy. 

“Food’s ready!” Dean calls appearing with a platter of burgers, placing them on the makeshift table next to the condiments and buns. You hop off the car and make a beeline for the table the burgers calling your name. A smile is constant on your face as the people you love the most in the world surround you laughing and eating like normal people. As the sun finally sets Charlie is bouncing in her seat waiting for the time to start the fireworks to roll around. You stand up and walk over to the Impala and pull out the sparklers you bought for her, the smile on her face when you handed one to her was blinding. She throws her arms around you and you wrap your arms around her tightly. You meet Dean’s eyes over Charlie’s shoulder and he raises an eyebrow at you. Charlie releases you and reaches in your jacket pocket to grab your lighter.

She lights the sparkler and hands it to you before lighting her own. She grabs your hand and yanks you along as she runs around the field giggling as she swirls the sparkler through the air. Your heart flutters as you watch the light flicker across her face. 

“Y/N this is amazing!” She yells dancing around with her sparkler flinging it around her with joyous abandon. 

“You’re amazing.” You whisper swirling your sparkler around with a smile your eyes never leaving Charlie. The sunlight had finally faded behind the line of trees surrounding the field the first stars twinkling to life in the night sky. 

“DEAN! START THE FIREWORKS!” Charlie yells grabbing your hand to tow you back towards your brothers and Cass. Dean laughs and downs the rest of his beer. 

“All right kid, as you command.” He says laughing. You hop onto the hood of the Impala and Charlie joins you bouncing with excitement. 

“Are you ready Y/N?” She asks excitedly. 

“Yeah Charlie I am.” You say softly looking at her with a smile. She grins as Dean starts lighting the fireworks. Your eyes stay trained on her face as the fireworks light up her features. The smile that spread across her lips makes your heart squeeze in your chest wonderfully. You stay like that watching her watch the fireworks, content to see the colorful flames light up her beautiful face. She turns to look at you and raises an eyebrow.

“You’re missing it Y/N, why are you staring at me?” She asks her fingers brushing your hand.

“I’m no-” You bite your lip and she gazes at your face trying to discern what was going through your mind. As you look into her eyes you know Sam was right, you’ll regret not telling her you love her. You reach up brushing her red hair away from her face as you take a deep breath. “Charlie, I uh, I’m not good at this, um so I’m just gonna say it. I’m in love with you.”

She stares at you for a moment before a huge smile overtakes her face. You gasp as she lunges forward pressing her lips to yours. Her hands cup your face gently as your lips mold with hers, the sparks coursing through your body putting the fireworks lighting up the night to shame. You pull back and smile brightly at her rubbing your thumb across her cheek.

“It’s about damn time you idiot.” She says punching you in the shoulder making you flinch. 

“Ow Charlie!” You say laughing before taking her hand in yours. She smiles before laying her head on your shoulder. You look up towards the sky watching the fireworks light up the night their colors dancing across the field. You sit under the stars watching the fireworks flash across the sky, the feeling of normalcy making a smile spread across your face as you glanced around at your family. Dean and Sam stood with Cass staring up at the sky smiles on their faces, Dean looks at you and winks his teeth shining in the darkness as he smiles at you. Charlie squeezes your hand making you smile brightly your eyes moving towards her. She pulls back and looks at you her eyes shining as her face lit up under the fireworks blazing in the sky. The smile that spread across her face more beautiful than anything you’d ever seen. The words that flowed from the perfect line of her mouth made your mind race and your heart swell to the bursting point.

“I love you.”

Being here with Charlie, her skin against yours, the flashing of the fireworks lighting up your faces, the hot July air making your hair frizz and sweat brush across your skin, it was perfect. She was perfect, no matter what happened in the end, wherever this life took you, this moment feeling her next to you made the shit you had been through was worth it. Loving her was worth it. 

[teen-titans-imagines]

The Batboys As Dads [Headcanons]

Since me and @loudmouthwally have been screaming about dad! Dick and dami and such, I decided to write headcanons after she suggested it to me. As always: reader insert 😎

Dick Grayson

He honestly wasn't sure on being a dad

But when he laid his eyes on you, his daughter/son, he was absolutely ready to fight everyone who had any second thoughts about you.

Dick Grayson was ready to lay down everything for you. Even leave the mantle of Nightwing to someone else, because jesus christ, you were so important to him. (And still are)

Dick Grayson is a playful man, and if you think he wouldn't hit himself on the head with a skillet to make you laugh, you are very, v e r y mistaken.

As you grow up, there is one thing you learn about Dick Grayson.

Dick is a dad joke within himself.

Dad jokes for d a y s.

There is no escaping them.

"I had a scarecrow friend try out for stand up comedy, but the audience thought he was too corny."

"I'm calling the police on you for harassment."

Despite Dick being a silly dad, he is also very protective.

No boys/girls until you are dead.

Actually, no wait, nope, not even in the afterlife.

He will stalk you while on your dates, being as obvious yet hard to spot as possible.

Dick is the waiter, the random guy you bump into on the street, the carnival's janitor.

He's fucking everywhere, man, don't even try to kiss your date because Daddy Dearest will know. In a heartbeat.

#GroundedForKissingMyBoyfriendAfterFindingOutMyDadWasSpyingOnUsAftetHeFELLFROMTHEDAMNTREESCREAMINGBLOODYMURDER #IWANNANEWDAD #JASONBEMYNEWDAD

Despite all the crap he puts you through, Dick loves you very much and just wants the best for you, and that includes a happy life and childhood. He knows that you can lose a lot in a blink of an eye, and he wants you to be happy.

Yet, while he holds a superhero job, it can be pretty straining on your relationship as father and daughter/son.

Just know Dick loves you very much, even if he is a pain in the ass crack.

Jason Todd

If there is one thing Jason Todd does not know how to do, it is Parenting 101.

Please send help. He has no idea how to even wrap a diaper on a child, let alone r a i s e one.

Jason had to have Dick help him out a lot little.

However, after a while, Jason fell into a good routine after doing a lot of research and hands-on learning.

He totally owns one of those 'Parenting for Dummies' books but will completely deny any kind of knowledge about it should anybody find it (demon spawn from hell aka damian fucking wayne)

Spending time with you, Red Hood later. ALWAYS.

He honestly adores you.

You are his everything and if there's one thing Jason never thought he would have wanted until now, it is definitely you.

Instantaneous Death to anybody who even mentions your existence.

Jason Todd Will Not Hesitate, Bitch^TM

He actually snapped at a woman who said she could just 'eat you up'

"Yeah, well, we don't believe in cannibalism, so."

Jason definitely sings you to sleep, and is proud, even touched, that you will raise hell if he fails to sing you to sleep right on schedule.

As you grow and get into school, Jason is quick to teach you self defense.

And taught you that all boys had a contagious virus and to punch any that tried to kiss you or hold your hand. (Female)

And taught you that girls were the devils spawn and were to be avoided at all cost (Male)

You once got suspended for calling the teacher an 'asshat'. Jason was lowkey sort of proud. Dick wasn't amused.

You have a white streak in your hair, and when you need to be with your father, he will play with that lock of hair.

You and Jason are exactly alike, with some different attributes. But that doesn't make you any less of a Todd.

Your damian's favorite. Just saying.

Tim Drake

You were definitely not what Tim Drake was expecting.

But definitely everything he wanted.

If there is one thing you both know how to do, it's complain.

"Oh my god, I did literally everything the books told me to do. Why are you still c r y i n g???"

"...WAH-"

*slams head into desk*

Tim swears that if he wasn't a coffee addict then, he fucking is now.

No sleep. At all. You give him too much shit.

Jason thinks it's hysterical because you seem to be Karma in a onesie for all the times Tim was a little shit to him.

Tim loves you to the moon and back, but you never fail to irk at least one of his remaining nerves that still works.

P r o b l e m a t i c C h i l d r e n

Yes, that means Tim and you.

Did he give you a bath just now? No the fuck he didn't. Did he just clean the high chair? No the fuck he didnt, bitch. Did he just change your diaper? Come back, bitch. It's a shitstorm in here, and you're in the eye of the hurricane. Gas mask it up, son.

As you grow up, Tim wants you to get out there and do whatever. He's slightly not ok with you dating, but don't think he won't do at least 15 background checks, stake outs, securing the perimeter, interrogations, whatever. Each. 15 each.

You are a computer genius just like him, but don't spend your time on the computer all the time. Mostly just to play games here and there.

As you grow in school, there is not a single day that goes by that you absolutely loathe it.

Honestly

Why cant you just homeschool. We have the capability too.

"Who even needs human friends? Uncle Damian is doing just fine with his animals."

"He also has homicidal tendecies, so. You're gonna get some human interaction whether you like it or not."

Honestly, you and Tim butt heads all the time, but at the end of the day, you are his flesh and blood, and he will protect and love you till the world stops turning.

Damian Wayne

Let's be honest: Damian Wayne would be the most worried and/or scared person on earth if he found out he was gonna be a dad.

All these insecurities about his past, the bad memories, all of it coming back to haunt him as he thought about his child.

Damian was not ready at all.

He was honestly very weary of you. Since he didn't really get along with children, there was no way to explain to him how to raise his kid for the next eighteen years.

He realized that when he held you. Kinda like an 'aha' moment, but with an 'oh shit' instead.

After Damian warmed up to you, though, he was Dad to the Max. Spin the fucking wheel to jackpot.

Damian has very high expectations for himself as a dad. He needs to be on top of the mark at all times or he is sure he has failed you.

Damian is a perfectionist, so if he doesn't get you to calm down after screaming bloody murder on the first try, he literally wants to stab something because wtf he was sure he was doing this right.

Damian sings you to sleep. Dami has the voice of an angel when he's quietly singing and it's soothing as fuck. Never fails to make you sleepy. Add in a bit of bouncing while leaned against his shoulder and it is lights o u t.

Damian is a very teasing father, despite how serious he can be. You are the only person who he shows his soft, relaxed side too. You are his everything and he lets you know that shamelessly.

Damian will kill anybody who even dares to mention your name or make horrible implications about your existence.

That is his child and he will fuck someone up if they speak wrongly of you. Talk shit, get hit, bitches get a fucking katana to the eye.

Definition of the meme "Don't talk to me or my son ever again."

Damian Wayne Will Definitely Not Hesitate, Bitch^TM

As you grow up, Damian makes it crystal clear.

NO DATING AT ALL.

Damian is protective as fuck. He needs to know where you are, where you are going, who is going with you, who is all going to be there, how long is it gonna be, how long are you gonna be driving there, are there gonna be any boys present, Drake, would you finish the damn background checks already???

Damian is just like Dick: not even in the afterlife or the bullshit after that.

You are very much like Damian. Practically a spitting image. It makes Damian feel proud because of the Wayne Legacy that you might keep up, his ego, and the fact that his child is a badass and looks like one too.

Damian and you are not perfect, though. You two often get into arguments about certain things, usually the littlest. One of the things you two often fight about, however, is the mantle of Robin.

Huge no-no.

Noooo. No no no.

There is no way you are becoming Robin. You are his baby and he is NOT going to let some STUPID costume ruin that for him.

He can be very cold, even to you at times, and since you didn't inherit his amazing lack skill of patience, you are often calling him out on his bullshit and his attitudes.

Seriously. Who even is the adult here anymore.

You are taller than Damian. It infuriates him to no end.

"Dad, how's the weather down there?"

"gROUNDED."

At the end of the day, Damian loves you dearly and you love him dearly as well. There is never a dull moment between you two and it makes for a harmonious atmosphere. Even if you can be a pain in each other asses, Damian is sure he would be lost to the world of familial love had it not been for you.

You are his rock and he is your oasis in a barren land. Family always, always matters to you both.

[jash62]

What the Hell Universe

Entry 1 Montague

What the actual fuck universe. What have I done in a past life to piss you off so!? What have I done to you to make my life the multi headed dick Hydra that is my current life!  

Everything is a burnt husk or ruin. If it's not burnt it's mutated if not burnt and mutated. I mean cockroaches the size of Corgis, angry murder fly-bees that shoot it's larva young at you. I swear if there are mutated spiders the size of dobermans, I'm ending it right now. I will eat that bullet with ketchup(if I can find some) damn nature you scary with a irradiated vengeance.

Okay where to start. first I need something to help get my thoughts in order so diary, Journal, log thingy ,or Incase someone finds this on my corpse out in this hell scape. We're about to get real personal real quick. So I guess I'll start with my name.

My name is Montague Alister Hawk, and I'm a time traveler for the year 2077 pre war America.

How is time travel possible you ask hypothetical reader. Well apparently its one part: ignore your best friend's advice and instincts, one part: submit to the peer pressure from your wife and one part: smooth silver tongue Vault Tec rep, and Two part: the fucking Chinese or American government nuking the shit out of each other! Mix with Corporate America mindset and a dash of Vault Tec experimentation. Poor over the iced tears of the working class and bam you get one maybe two possibly three time travelers.

Gods please let my wife and child be safe. Also thanks for keeping my last bottle of whiskey together for the past 210 years.

Okay so here's the thing, my psychologist doc Anders, said that in times of great stress with nothing to do, is to write down my thoughts or this case type them. So here I am, drinking a the last (possibly unirradiated) bottle Jameson. In the burnt out ruins of my home, with the computer (I scavenged from the drug dealer down the street), and with the hopes my wife and son are alive in this hellscape that is the Boston wasteland as Codsworth dubs it.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact when I woke up this morning in the year of 2077 and now it's 2287. In fact we went into vault 111 around 1000 hrs on Oct 23 and I came out of said vault on Oct 23 1100 hrs. And what's worse is today is still a blur.

It started like any other day, I was shaving my beard off in my preparation for the speech I was suppose to give at the VA. I remember Cods giving me some coffee and the knock on the door from that Vault Tec basterd, my wife pleading with me to just deal with him. Because it was free.

Pffpht nothing is free, "Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.” that is the Law of Equivalent Exchange and I have yet to find a way to circumvent this law, but enough philosophy.

The next thing I remember is hearing my NORAD waring blare on my computer, gathering Cassandra and Shaun. Then booking it towards the vault. the air was thick with fear. There was air raid sirens blaring and vertibirds mobilizing.

If I wasn't in such a panic I would have recognise the first warning something was off. It was the Vault Tec rep having been denied at the gate. The second warning was when we were granted access to the vault even though we finished the paperwork not 30 minutes before. Gods hindsight is 20/20 and a bitch.

I felt it before it went off somehow, all the thing Cassandra and I feared most. The reason I joined the rangers and went to war, was to help prevent what we saw. The reason Cassandra went to law school and put up with those stuff shirts that made up the law community, was to prevent what we saw. All the hardships, late nights, ptsd fueled nightmares, our hopes dreams, and all the hours put to fight the injustice we fought against. All of that time and effort, went up in the ash and dust fueled, mushroom shaped cloud.

I still see it when I close my eyes. Still hear the screams.

Anyway I instinctively grab Cassandra hold her against me as we ducked down against the blast wind as we were lowered into the vault. We hit the bottom and all I can think is how much time we wasted to prevent the unpreventable.

The next hour was a blur again and the next thing I can remember is Cassandra handing me Shaun so she could change into her vault suit. I remember looking into his blue eyes and holding close. Silently promising him the best I could in this fucked up world. Then I looked at my Cassandra, my rock, my harbor in the storm. I looked into the stormy steel eyes and kissed her for all I worth. Hoping my unsaid message of love and devotion was noticed.

Then of course we were interrupted by some Vault Tec asshat in a lab coat telling us it's time to enter our individual decontamination chamber. Hince the third waring something was wrong.

Now thanks to my years in the Rangers I have seen a lot of things. New tech and research of Big MT things but this was no decontamination chamber I have ever seen. In fact it looked more like a sarcophagus pod than a decontamination chamber.

Of course my fears of the future and my small family standing in front of me (and my instincts of finding a safe and secure space for us) distracted my “IT'S A TRAP” instincts. Well that and the armed Vault Tec security officer standing behind the asshat in the lab coat.

We then of course follow instructions and get in to the sarcophagus of decontamination. Luckily Cassandra Shaun and I were able to get pods across from one another and see each other from across the hall via view ports. We hear the computer voice say  “Decontamination start in 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1..” as it hit one Cassandra and I reached for each other then the blackness took me.

The next thing I remember is hearing voices as I was coughing up liquid. Then I see these science types in light blue radiation gear with what looked like Leonardo Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man as a symbol over their right breast, and a man that was definitely a mercenary.

They stop in front of Cassandra's pod, gods knows I tried to get out but I was weak. The merc took a fighting stance pointed his (I'm guessing .44) revolver at Cassandra's view port and nods to the DaVinci wannabe. They activated her pod and as it open I can hear Shaun's cry's. Of course I'm shouting and pounding on my viewport, trying to get people's attention to no avail.

Then the gun shot (definitely .44), and all I can see is Cassandra's shocked face. Then I hear this ungodly roar (I guess it was me by the way that merc and that DaVinci wannabe looked at me) and that fucking merc smiled at me. and I swear to all that is holy, I will find him and wipe that smile off his face with his own gun.

Then blackness again.

I don't know how long I was out but the next thing I hear is a kalaxian blaring over and over again. I shifted and cracked one of my eyes open to immediately shut it again as the low light seared through my brain. Igniting a headache that has yet to leave me. Then all that has happened to this point, slams through my brain. Panicking I look up to my wife's pod to find it empty!

As I slowly get up, ignoring the pain as my muscles scream for me to lay down again, and stumble to the empty open pod. As I reached the pod I fall to my knees, I rub my eyes a couple times in disbelief. Then all I see from my position is a small but dried blood smear and the bloody bullet lodged in the upper corner of the interior pod. I grabbed a flat head screwdriver form the nearby tool box and proceeded to attempt to dialogue the bullet. I can't tell you why it was important but it was.

After sometime I finally work the damn thing out and as it popped out from its position I missed the catch and it bounced to the floor. Wanting that bullet I went after it. Fate must have been with me because it landed next to a blood spot and the broken chain of Cassandra's pendant necklace that she inherited from her mom. As I pick up the pendent I realised that Cassandra rarely took it off and was often a favorite chew toy for Shaun.

The pendet Itself was shaped in the form of a mother (tigers eye) cradling a newborn (lapis lazuli). Behind it was my dented dog tags and behind those Cassandra's wedding band and engagement ring. Unfortunately part of the mother was broken as well my tags were bent  from what looked like a bullet going through or at least ricocheted off them.

Hope then. Not much but enough to move forward.

I look around and see the vault in disrepair as well as the other pods. I get up stretching my muscles and walk to the next pod to the right of mine. The viewport was fogged up so I pull the release switch and the body of ole Bob fell out. He was dead from the looks of it (and no pulse I checked). He seemed to be dead for a while. Then the next pod down (left of mine) to his wife, same condition. So was the next and the next one after that. All dead. Then I see a computer at the beginning of the hall.

I turn on the monitor to see the screen blinking in time with the klaxon, saying cryo Lab 3 critical malfunction. I acknowledge the waring and the klaxon mercifully stop blaring. I continue to read the warning displayed on the screen and discovered that all residents of the pods pronounced were dead. With the exception of my pod and Cassandra's pod. However nothing was timed stamped or dated even.

Diary, Journal, log thingy, or hypothetical reader. I'm going to say right now, I been alone for a long time even during my military service but before I met Cassandra I could handle that feeling and let me try to describe that feeling.

It's like your hollow inside and nothing you do matters. You go through the motions of life, do what's expected of you, try not to make a fuss. Be that man your father wanted, be a pawn in his games. That pawn for the government. Of course I had ambition but it had nowhere to go and it kinda peters out. I joined the military to get away from my father in Texas. Went north to get away from that toxic family but it followed me here and everywhere I went. I was looking to die at the start of Anchorage.

Of course I wasn't wanting to go alone so decided to take as many of those invading Chinese bastards with me. But somehow I lived through that campaign. I was in Washington DC receiving my medals when I met Cassandra and that's the day I finally knew how to live, I wasn't alone anymore.

However in that moment after reading how Everyone in that bay was dead. That lonely feeling hit me full force and truthfully I don't know how I handled the loneliness before. Because for the first time in 10 years I remember what it felt like. I don't know how long I stood there looking at nothing but eventually I moved. Looking at the ground I saw more blood pointing out a side door.

Following the trail, it lead me to a side office that looked like a tornado ransack the place. If I had to guess it was my wifes doing. Because in all the mess was a bloody discarded vault suit, empty packaging of a new suit and the remnants of a first aid kit. I also noticed blood leading in but not out.

Good signs. Like Cassandra's uncle Nick always said, “If there ain't no body, then there ain't nobody dead.”

I proceed through the vault to see if there was any supplies missed, and proceeded after hopefully after Cassandra. As I continued through the vault I saw the evidence of Cassandra throughout the place. Bodies of well squished Radroaches, (which made tracking her easier) messy mess hall (phtb) and other signs of life. Eventually I proceeded to the overseer’s office ransacking what supplies I could along the way. At the overseer's office is where I found my first weapon and information about the vault.

Yeah I remember that dash of experimentation that I told you of for the making of a time traveler? Well it turns out vault-tec was doing social experimentation on us for the long-term effects of cryogenically freezing the human body.

Bastards

At the overseer got what was coming It seems that the security crew pulled a coup de gras after rations was getting low to leave the vault. I can summarize this because I'm standing over the bastards bullet-riddled skeletal remains and by the entries of his computer. Not even sorry

I then proceeded to the access tunnel that the overseer had and came into the supply room where I was able to find a Pip-Boy brand spanking new in the box. After starting it up and getting it tuned to my body I proceeded to the vault door into the entrance of this gods-forsaken tomb.

I was able to reach to the top of the Vault and finally see the destruction of those idiots. If my other description of how fucked our world is, see my earlier description of the world. I will say this however nature is slowly reclaiming what is hers I have no doubt that you'll be able to do it in the next couple thousand years or so. Because life marches on with or without humans.

However there is the problem of me losing the trail of my wife at the top of the vault. So naturally I thought she would head down to the house that we wants to live in that is now a ruin. Funny enough I come across our old robot codsworth still trying to do his programmed duties.so after a not so heartwarming reunion, I found out that Codsworth has not seen my wife and we sweep the neighborhood, looking for supplies and clues of Cassandra or of Shaun's kidnappers, until the sun was on the horizon.

I need to apologize to Codsworth, I don't think he appreciated my smartassery. Though Codsworth did say there was a rainstorm not to long ago but that makes tracking Cassandra that more difficult. However not impossible.

I pray that the gods are still with me on this journey. Lord Hades take the dead into your realm and give them proper rest. Also if you could thank Bob for me, his fallout shelter was still intact and relatively stocked hope he didn't mind. Lady Diana and Lady Freya guide me into the hunt for my wife and son, keep my shots square and true. Odin help me keep my knowledge and strength in this endeavor. Lady Athena help me keep my strategy sound and wit about me. And to Jesus grant mercy to those who stand against me for I will have none to give.

This is Hawk signing off

End entry Oct 24 2287 0107

(quote from Fullmetal Alchemist and Band of Brothers)

[stargleeksil-blog]

Criminal Minds S06E17 “Valhalla” review - or more aptly named, the plot begins to untangle and I’m defs scared for Emily ... also, my heart remains Team Derek all the way.

Episode 17 – Valhalla

Hey everyone!!!! So ... I have a feeling that shit is about to start hitting the fan here. So I’m on the edge of my seat with anticipation of what’s to happen and dread for Ems.

Oh dear, okay - deep breaths.

Let’s see what happens.

Okay, so Emily is still handling those thrteesome meetings a la Sting/James Bond and meeting this time on a subway. Freaky.

“We?”

“Ian Doyle is here in DC.”

“I sat next to him last night.”

“He said if I warned my team or told anyone, he’d kill them.”

“He’s not working alone.”

“No, no, he’s a power assertive psychopath. He doesn’t play games. He’s meticulous. He plans everything down to the last detail.”

So now that he’s threatened the team she won’t ask for their help? Oh god this is getting frazzled, and fast.

“No. No way. This isn’t their fight. And I won’t take that risk.”

“We already tried. Look how that ended up.”

“I’m not undercover anymore.”

“DC isn’t his comfort zone, it’s mine.”

“This ends here.”

I’m seriously scared right now.

Did that house just go kaboom?

“Two DC homes torched, two families, on the same night, last night.”

“I’m surprised it still hasn’t hit the news.”

“It’s already mid-day.”

“Yeah. All anyone’s talking about is this storm that may or may not hit.”

“I managed to find an online article about the fires written by this guy Jeff Hastings, but no one’s running with it.”

“How strange. They usually thrive on tragedy.”

“Yeah, and it gets weirder.”

“Ron and Lauren Cosenza and their 10-year-old son were found in the master bedroom of their home, each shot through the forehead.”

“The gun belonged to the father.”

“Murder-suicide?”

“Well, it looks like Metro PD’s investigation is going that way, but it’s still the first 48.”

“They want our help.”

“Kerry and Frank Fagan, like the Cosenzas, were found in their master bedroom from a suspected gas leak.”

“Any connection between the families?”

“Only one. A continent. Kerry Fagan was born in Germany, Ron Cosenza is from Italy.”

“So two of the five victims are from Europe. How does that help?”

“It doesn’t. I’m just stating the facts, and the facts happen to be …”

Hey, don’t shoot the lovely messenger!

“Guys, I’m sorry I’m late.”

“You okay?”

My concerned gorgeous chocolate drop.

“Yeah, it’s just one of those weeks, I guess. I’m sorry. What did I miss? Arsonist?”

If that’s not suspicious behavior, I don’t know what is. I don’t like this ...

“One appears to be murder-suicide, the other a freak accident.”

“So why are we looking at it?”

“Houses fire are rare. Add to that a few miles apart, within the same hour, kind of tips the scales of coincidence.”

“Yeah, if somebody did this, they’re highly motivated and organized.”

“And if he wants to strike again, he’s got 72 hours before the storm shuts the city down.”

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What’s his name?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, answering a question with a question. That’s interesting.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what, probing?”

“Seriously.”

“I’m gonna make it my life’s work to find out who this boy is …”

“Stop. Just stop.”

“We have enough to worry about already, don’t we?”

Did she just seriously snap at my lovely probing goddess? Oh, she is off to a rocky start with me. I get that she’s stressed. But no need to take it out on my lovely perfect lovely.

Lao Tzu: “When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.”

Oh holy shit, that is powerful stuff.

“What’s with the security.”

“Why the steel door?”

“What did he do for a living?”

“Oh, computer networking, and the Fagans were financial advisors.”

“These neighbors don’t require anything more than an average deadbolt, certainly nothing on the bedroom doors. It’s like a panic room.”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing in this room that’s high tech. There’s no surveillance cameras, average alarm system. In an average area.”

“But he had a 40-caliber and a load of locks. What was this guy afraid of?”

“Or who?”

“Maybe himself.”

“If he actually killed his family, then he’s been hiding something.”

“There’s no history of any kind of psychological weirdness with either family. They were healthy, happy, fit.”

“Until last night.”

“Any signs of financial stress?”

“No. They were healthy on that front, too.”

“What’s with the …”

“Oh. The heat is out in my lair. Not a single snowflake has fallen and yet the weather remains the top news story.”

Oh my god, I love my stylish goddess.

“Nothing about these cases?”

“No. they’re bound to get hip to it.”

“Once our presence is felt and we connect the cases, it’ll be a ballroom blitz.”

“What is it?”

“Hmm. You know, considering the time these fires occurred, the habitual patterns of both families were in direct conflict with where the bodies were found.”

“The master bedroom.”

“Yeah, normally Lauren Cosenza would be downstairs helping her son with his homework, and Ron wouldn’t even be home from work yet.”

“What about the Fagans?”

“Their routines were less established. They travelled a lot.”

“But they were expected at a dinner party last night.”

“If someone did this, what are the chances these victims are random?”

“What do you think?”

“Two families, same night, mysterious deaths. Doesn’t happy every day.”

“The gas leak at the Fagan house and then the other fire suspected to be set by Mr. Cosenza to cover the murder-suicide.”

“He killed them, set the fire, then killed himself. That fits.”

“He didn’t have signs of smoke inhalation either.”

“Even though the fire started in the master bedroom?”

Oh dear lord, this is turning into one fucking nasty  case.

“Garcia hasn’t found any connection between the victims.”

“There has to be one.”

“On paper they’re perfect. Everything’s clean. But what happened to them last night was anything but.”

What the ... oh, she got a text.

“You okay?”

“People text like it’s not as intrusive as a phone call.”

“You know, you haven’t had a vacation in a while. Weren’t you talking about Italy?”

“My mother extended her trip there. It wouldn’t be much of a vacation.”

“It’s a big country.”

“Not big enough.”

My face:

“Well, think about it.”

“I will.”

“And pick a place where that thing won’t work.”

“Yeah.”

Oh my God, Emily, just tell them already!

“I’m sorry. I thought you were in there.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m … I’m … I’m sure these victims overlap somehow.”

“Garcia pulled their phone numbers, but so far I can’t find anything.”

“You just jumped.”

“I’ve been having these really intense headaches lately.”

"Have you seen a doctor?”

"Yeah, a few. None of them have been able to figure I tout.”

“Oh. I’m … Sorry.”

“Does anyone know?”

“You.”

Oh, my heart just melted so fucking bad right now.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know.”

“They’d just worry. Not that you’re not gonna worry, but they’ll just make me feel like a baby. You know?”

But you’ are my baby! I love you!

“I do.”

“How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“You’ve been picking your fingernails again.”

“Yeah.”

“You only do that when you’re stressed.”

“It’s just a bad habit.”

“You coming?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“The media blitz I promised never came.”

“The original online article written by a one Mr. Jeff Hastings … pulled.”

“So with your permission, sir, I would like to track him down and figure out what the hell is going on.”

“What’s the connection?”

“It’s a small one. Both families coach soccer on the hill.”

“The Fagans didn’t have children.”

“No. But Kerry Fagan coached her godson’s team.”

My beautiful goddess is incorporating profiling into her work, and I fucking love her so much 

“The two victims from Europe were the soccer coaches.”

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“I’m beginning to think that they’ve crossed paths before.”

I’m sorry, I had to pause a little. Focusing on those big yummy hands of Shemar’s ... if that whole hand-penis ratio is accirate ... unf.

“I ran the victims’ phone numbers. They never contacted each other, but there is a common number between them.”

“Give it.”

I’ll give you anything and everything, goddess.

.... sorry, I’ve been watching too much 2 Broke Girls today (it turns my brain even filthier than usual)

“Byron Delaney, his wife Grace died last summer, children grown.”

“What do you know? He’s British.”

“Garcia, send me the address.”

“I’ll grab Prentiss.”

“Sent.”

Oh God, I am seriously terrified of what is going on here. These fuckers are taking out European immigrants like flies and it’s scary.

“So what’s your take on these guys?”

“They’re contradicting themselves, exposing bodies but then going through hall of this to hide it.”

“Do you think they wanted us on the case?”

“Us, the BAU? Why would they?”

“Ego. Control. Some kind of agenda.”

“I don’t think we’re even on their radar, Prentiss. Do you?”

“You’re right. Why would we be?”

“Maybe nobody’s home.”

“Garcia never got an answer.”

“Prentiss, get down!”

“Look out!”

Are they fucking shooting at my honeys???? I’m going to kill those assholes!

“Well, this is one story that’s not gonna get buried.”

Yes, Prentiss got the fucker!

Fuck. It’s Ian. SCREW YOU YOU FUCKING ASSHAT!

“He’s just a kid. He can’t be more than 25.”

“A kid with an assault weapon isn’t just a kid anymore.”

“Four rounds total.”

“That one’s yours. You hit his femoral artery.”

“He was dead and they knew it.”

“Bet he didn’t bargain on that when he signed up.”

“He’s got two shots to the head and then one in the wrist. Why the wrist?”

“To make sure he can’t return fire?”

“He was dead before his head hit the sidewalk.”

Damn, that’s cold.

“Prentiss.”

“He’s got a tattoo, at least what’s left of one.”

“They blew a hole through the tattoo because we could have ID’ed him.”

“So they’re confident we can’t ID his face or prints.”

“No GSWs, no signs of strangulation.”

“Dave.”

“His shoe’s untied.”

“Injected between the toes. Made to look like a heart attack.”

I’m about to hurl, I hate injections.

“Armor tech windows, 6-pin locks on the entrance door.”

“Same as the Fagans and the Cosenzas.”

“20,000 in cash. Passport. This guy was on the move.”

“Outgoing calls. 3218. That’s Kerry Fagan. 10:30 AM. 10:31, Delaney calls the Cosenzas.”

“Both calls last only seconds.”

“Didn’t leave a message.”

“Didn’t try to warn him.”

“Somebody warned him. If not on the phone then in person.”

“Whatever these victims have in common or whatever they were a part of … didn’t happen on US soil.”

“Three of the six victims are from Europe. And the mini beryl says they’re serious.”

“We saw how they move. They’ve got to be ex-military.”

“European hit squad cleaning house? It’s happened before.”

“They could have taken us out … easily. Why didn’t they?”

“FBI agents gunned down in DC would have definitely started a war.”

“A war this kid wasn’t prepared for. He’s just a foot soldier. Whoever shot him is the leader.”

“Someone must have warned Byron Delaney to get out. And whoever it is is next on the list.”

Oh my goodness, my blonde goddess doing the Bond gig is the best ever.

“The Helmsman’s Wife. I just finished it. It’s so sad.”

“I just started it.”

“Oh! Sorry. It’s a great read to that bit. The end, the sad bit, with the wife, super tragic. You know?”

“You are?”

“You’re Jeff, right?”

“Penelope Garcia. Nice to see you.”

“Oh, we haven’t. I’m with the FBI.”

“Why did you pull that story?”

“The FBI didn’t tell you to pull it, did they?”

“Listen, two families died in those fires. You were suspicious and you were right to be.”

“I’m a … hired nerd for the behavioral analysis unit.”

“I think that theory should be at the beginning part of your story.”

“Okay, maybe not now, but when whoever is telling you to pull it is no longer a threat, with the right source it could be front page.”

“It could be the next Watergate.”

“It could lead to a book.”

“Your book.”

“Shareholders that are affected detrimentally?”

“Follow the money?”

“Oh, that sounds like a very good ending.”

“For you, I mean.”

My poodle is making na doodle.

“Reid, you got anything?”

“The damage is pretty extensive, but luckily some of the tattoo remains.”

“Seaver, get the victim’s photo out to the press. I think I know who dug the hole.”

“The journo told me to follow the money, like straight up, that’s what he told me, so I did.”

“It turns out The Gazette is owned by a multinational global conglomerate … oil, new technologies, shipping, air and ground transportation, all of which employ the services of one company … CWS.”

“Clear Water Securities?”

“You know them?”

“I’ve come across them. They’re a private counterintelligence group out of Geneva.”

“Ron Cosenza, Byron Delaney, Kerry Fagan, all worked for CWS.”

“How long ago?”

“Seven years ago.”

“Seaver, hang up.”

“Do we have a problem?”

“Well, CWS does.”

“Got it.”

Oops. Penelope interrupted her undercover call.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I’m good.”

“I’m not a profiler, but you …”

“Don’t start.”

Did she just snap at my goddess again? I”m really angry right now.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m … I’m gonna be all right.”

“I’m just really worried about you.”

“I think the flu is going around.”

“Are you pregs?”

“No. No.”

“No, I’m just … I’m not sleeping.”

“I’m having this nightmare. It’s a recurring nightmare.”

“I … There’s a hill, and there’s a little girl on top of the hill. She’s like six years old, dark hair. And she’s just dancing in the sun. But somehow I know that she’s waiting for me, so I start walking up the hill … But the hill gets steeper and steeper, and by the time I climb to the top, the little girl’s gone.”

“And I look everywhere for her, and when I can’t find her, I start to panic.”

“And I panic because I know what’s waiting out there for her. I know what the world can do to a girl who only sees beauty.”

“Like you.”

“Somehow you … always make me smile. And I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for that.”

“Hotch needs you in SCIF.”

“Okay.”

I  don’t like seeing my angel this way. I don’t like this at all.

Can I just say? Derek confronting CWS like this? Seriously pushing all the right buttons.

“Why did you pull that story?”

“That’s how you remember them.”

“And that is how they are now.”

“You warned your friend Byron Delaney. You knew him the longest. It’s too bad you were too late.”

“Business?”

“Kerry Fagan, Ron Cosenza, and Byron Delaney, they all worked for CWS.”

“So they were subcontracted to you.”

“And that would be?”

“Whoever is killing these families holds your company responsible, not the government.”

“So you’ve already started investigations?”

“That’s why you pulled the story.”

“These people were killed on US soil by trained suspects who fired on federal agents. As a courtesy and out of respect for the predicament your company now faces, everything in this room is off the record.”

“However, outside this room, if you withhold information about the case, you and your company will be held fully accountable.”

Standing up and clapping for Hotch.

“We’re looking for a European team, with considerable training. And for one of them, it’s personal.”

“Because they could have spared the child, but they chose not to.”

“The killing of Samuel Cosenza by one of the team was personal.”

“One of the attackers shot last night had the remains of a tattoo on his wrist.”

“On the surface the tattoo may look like a simple four-leaf clover. But the stem has a V at the end. We believe this is associated with a hidden sect of fallen warriors.”

“It’s also the name of a ship famous for its journeys from Dublin to America, the Valhalla.”

“Have you seen this before?”

“What’s his name?”

Ian Doyle.

Okay. So let me get this straight. All those people were hired spies, and when they got close to Valhalla, Ian got rid of them, and because Lauren/Emily was closest to him technically (still waiting for that one), then she is next on his list? I am seriously going to kill this fucker.

“Okay, Ian Doyle’s officially on everyone’s list. His mug’s all over the place.”

“He’s not gonna be able to get out of the district unless he sprouts wings himself.”

“It’s not that I’m not happy that we have his name, but how are we supposed to know who’s on his list?”

“We study his life and every single person he’s ever come in contact with.”

“Look, Doyle’s been away for seven years, but he still managed to figure out who the players were. Maybe we should start with how he got out of prison.”

“Well, where was he locked up?”

“Russia, I think.’

“Actually, there are no extradition papers on him. Was Doyle on your radar when you were at Interpol?”

“Uh, sure, I had heard of him, but direct contact? I’d have to ask around.”

“Do.”

“Good guys and bad keep files close to them.”

“What are in these files?”

“It’s intel. Insurance. Protection. For times like this.”

“Maybe I should go to Byron Delaney’s house and see what I can find.”

“Take Prentiss with you. She might have some insight.”

“No one’s getting back to you?”

“I only have a couple of contacts, but they’ll get back to me.”

“What, are we being followed, 007?”

“No, but you should go through the city. 65 is gonna be miserable right now.”

“We’ll get here.”

“Oh, before Doyle takes somebody else out? He’s shooting up federal agents. What’s he gonna do next?”

“What would you like me to do?”

“Get creative with your driving.”

“I’m working on it, Prentiss.”

Did she just criticize his driving? Oh boy, bad move, Prentiss.

“Hey. Thanks for getting back. I need some intel on Ian Doyle.”

“Are you alone?”

“Not at all. Anything you can spare.”

“Is your team in danger?”

“Absolutely. You should start with our victims, Ron Cosenza, Kerry Fagan, Byron Delaney. See if they connect to Doyle in any way.”

“I’ll be waiting for it. Thanks.”

“They got something?”

“I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“You know, Emily, you really need to trust people.”

“I trust people.”

“No, you don’t. you don’t because you can’t.”

“And I get it. Every time you tried to count on someone, they let you down, so you go it alone.”

“You’ll never admit that because you’re just too damn stubborn.”

“It’s all right. It doesn’t matter.”

“But I’ll tell you what does matter. That you can trust me, Emily. With anything.”

“I’m serious. No matter how awful you think it is, I promise you, you are not alone.”

“I just wish you’d believe that.”

“I do. You profile me again, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

Ah, that rare gorgeous smile. I love those.

“The more players we get on this board, the sooner Erin will get her nose in it.”

“Strauss already knows.”

“I’m surprised she wasn’t in the SCIF.”

“She’s on vacation.”

“Oh, great. Now she’ll never take another one.”

I seriously needed Rossi’s humor. I didn’t realize how much I did until he uttered this sentence XD

“Is everything about this guy classified?”

“Somebody knows him. We just haven’t found them yet.”

“There’s a safe in the bedroom.”

“Behind a big painting?”

“Yeah, it’s not gonna be in there.”

“It’s gonna be somewhere where he can sit and still gain access to it.”

“And he’s gotta be quick.”

“Get outta here.”

He did NOT just say that! I love Shemar moore and the writing team so fucking much right now.

“That’s Dreyer. Kerry Fagan, Ron Cosenza.”

“Delaney’s not in it.”

“Why would he have that picture?”

“Maybe he was their handler.”

“Here’s the million dollar question … Anyone know what language that is?”

“Those are villages in North Korea.”

”I love you. Of course she does.”

“There’s a political prison near Haengyong-Ni. Camp 22. Kwan-Li-So. North Korea denies it exists.”

“You think they took Doyle there?”

“That would explain why he’s after them.”

“Even his prison is off the grid.”

“All we know is that he was never married, had multiple residences, and was arrested at his Tuscan villa.”

“There’s paperwork to back that up?”

Yup. And she might be connected through Lauren Reynolds and then they’re fucked.

“Prentiss, did you hear from your European associates?”

“I’m waiting for them to send me a document.”

“We need it now.”

“He’s locked in this hellhole for seven years. How did he get out?”

“Does it really matter?”

Kinda, yeah.

“Doyle was in Kwan-Li-So?”

Need-to-know basis ... okay, wasn’t Prentiss on that basis??

“You didn’t think I needed to know that?”

“You don’t get to decide what’s good for me anymore. What else aren’t you telling me?”

“You said he was in Russia.”

“Tsia?”

“Get him off the phone.”

“Tsia.”

He just said ‘bloody hell’. XD

“You can’t trust him.”

“You have to get out of there right now. You are safer on your own.”

“Do you remember 9th street? Corelli’s. How the door works?”

“He’s still there. You will be in and out in five minutes.”

“Do not let Clyde follow you.”

“And, Tsia, be careful.”

He makes me smile, even though he’s an ass. That is one talented thing.

���Hey, what’s that?”

“Uh, oh, this is the only lead I have so far.”

“What about you?”

“Seaver said you were looking for photos of, uh, Doyle’s Tuscan villa?”

“I couldn’t find any stills from the day he was arrested, but there may be some surveillance footage from the Sedans. They generally record everything.”

“Yeah?”

Uh-oh. She’s in deep shit. I just seriously hope they manage to sort everything out and put Doyle down. Because this is getting ridiculous.

“You get a document from your contact?”

“Bank accounts traceable to our first two victims.”

“We might be able to match the rest of those faces.”

“The journalist is eating out of my hand. He had no idea I was promising him a full-fledged manhunt.”

“It’s way more than that. I’ve counted reps from five agencies.”

“Oh, I love me a multi-agency taskforcing, and on our turf. It gets my blood up.”

She and I are birds of a feather, I swear.

“When are we going to get started?”

“Oh, he’s drawing up the battle plan with the troops.”

“What’s holding us up?”

“We’re waiting for somebody from DC Metro Police, then we can start.”

“What makes you think he won’t get out of the district?”

“It’s the best we’ve got so far.”

“Metro got held up.”

“Doyle?”

“Vic’s apartment looks like a black market forger.”

“The other victim?”

“A woman, 30s, no ID, outside the door.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Oh shit. Tsia.

“One straight to the forehead. The holes were made by a 45.”

“So she comes to the door, and he shoots her. She didn’t stand a chance.”

“This has to be the work of our guy. ”She might be on our list. We should run her prints.”

“I need some air.”

Oh my darling honey, I’d be sick to my stomach too if someone I knew was murdered so brutally.

“What did you do, pull a whiskey Pete’s?”

A what now?

“Uh, I don’t know what that means. But if it involves getting vomit on your boots, then yeah, I’m guilty.”

“You need a soda?”

“What can I do?”

“I live ten minutes from here. Can we just swing by?”

“’Cause I think I got it on my pants, too.”

“Hotch wants us to get back.”

“I know. I’ll be really quick, I promise.”

“Okay.”

Oh my fucking god, she is getting ready to bolt. My poor honey.

“It’s not often that we know a subject’s name, and in this case, knowing Ian Doyle’s identity doesn’t give us very much. He’s known to select few, and those who know him well either work beside him or they’re on his list.”

“Two or three of his victims worked for CWS and were responsible for his transport to North Korea.”

“We’ll find Doyle the way we find any other offender. By studying his behavior. We’ll dissect his every move since he regained his freedom.”

“When he escaped from North Korea, he killed a man and he used his vehicle to cross the border into Russia.”

“You good?”

“I’m good.”

Dorothy Dix: “Confession is always weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets and takes its own punishment in silence.”

Oh my fucking god. I am seriously pissed here, not because of Emily, I have long forgiven her erratic behavior towards my honeys. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still defensive about any slight towards my honeys, but I get it. Now, I’m going to leave it here. Because I have to find out what happens next, and my tingling spidey-CM-sense are telling me it’s gonna be a whopper. And I’m still not sure if that’s good or bad.