#between this and her calling herself and scott the widows

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

"I trust you because Bdubs trusted you"

ohhhhhhh my goddd,, I really need to watch their 3L. I am picking up on So Many Implications here

[dankusner]

How Winona Ryder Made It to the Other Side

It is a warm afternoon in late spring, and Winona Ryder and I are walking through the Oakland Cemetery, a Victorian-style graveyard located in the center of Atlanta.

Large oak and magnolia trees shade the manicured paths as we stroll between the grand mausoleums and tombstones.

Ryder is wearing a straw bonnet, with a well-worn Leonard Cohen T-shirt under a black chore jacket that has a pin of a cartoon drawing of Jim Jarmusch affixed to its lapel.

Her eyes are rimmed with eyeliner, and her sneakers are splattered with paint.

Ryder is the first to admit that the word icon has become overused:

“Everyone uses it now, and they don’t know what a real icon is,” she says.

But she looks, as she always has, like the poster child for Gen X.

She defined cinema in the ’90s, embodying both a romantic moodiness and an idealistic dissatisfaction that few other actors have rivaled.

Gazing at the final resting places of others tends to prompt questions of longevity.

Ryder stops to read from a headstone:

“Life so fully lived, haven’t had to wait. Gone fishing.”

She tells me she has a deep admiration for the late actress Ruth Gordon, who won an Academy Award when she was 72 for Rosemary’s Baby and worked well into her 80s.

In past interviews, Ryder has said that she’s ready for her “Ruth Gordon years,” an allusion to a lengthy career that many who enter the industry as ingenues, as Ryder did to some extent, rarely pull off.

When she was 13, she auditioned for the role of Rina in what would become her first film, Lucas, which came out in 1986.

Rina, she recalls, was written in the script as unattractive.

This didn’t deter her.

“I wasn’t hurt by it,” she says. “I was more like, ‘Oh, cool. Can I be Ruth Gordon?’ ”

For the past six months, Ryder has been living in Atlanta, where she’s filming the final season of Stranger Things, with her boyfriend, Scott Mackinlay Hahn.

This September, she will star in the new Tim Burton film Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, the long-anticipated sequel to Burton’s original 1988 film, Beetlejuice, reprising the role of Lydia Deetz, which she first played when she was just 15 years old and helped catapult her to stardom.

Ryder is telling me how she found her way back to playing Lydia, who, like Ryder, is now a middle-aged woman.

“I felt bad for her,” she explains. “I feel INCREDIBLY LUCKY to have been able to LIVE this LIFE—however intense and overwhelming it got.”

In Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, Lydia is a pill-popping widow.

She hosts a television show called Ghost House, thanks to the fact that she still possesses the uncanny ability to see and speak to the dead.

She’s dating—but not in love with—her obsequiously slimy manager, Rory (played by Justin Theroux).

Her teenage daughter, Astrid (Jenna Ortega), hates her;

she finds Lydia’s gift a cheap gimmick, largely because the one person Lydia can’t contact from the afterlife is Astrid’s father, who tragically died in a fishing accident.

Life, it seems, did not quite go as planned for Lydia Deetz. “My mom,” Astrid declares at one point, “is a very broken person.”

Parts of Lydia remind Ryder of a younger version of herself. “In my 30s, I had two disastrous relationships that were—they weren’t wrong, but this was before you would ever think to Google someone,” she says.

“When I look back, I’m like, ‘What the hell was I thinking?’ I was dating the type of person who only lets you know a few weeks in that they’re in a relationship with someone else. And you’re just like, ‘What the fuck?’ ”

Not too long ago, Ryder read through her diaries from that period of her life.

“You clearly write when you’re depressed or upset. I tend to not write when I’m really happy,” she says.

“I was going through them and just asking myself, ‘How?’ I was clearly trying to deal with …” Ryder trails off. “It was very sad. I was clearly trying to believe the best and to give grace to myself. But I was taking care of everything but myself.”

Ryder’s 30s were a well-publicized rough patch.

After a meteoric rise in her teens and 20s, landing roles in era-defining films like Heathers, Mermaids, Reality Bites, and Little Women and working with renowned directors such as Martin Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola, Ryder was burnt out.

Work had been nonstop, and the celebrity that followed put her personal life in the center of an unrelenting spotlight.

Following her 2001 arrest for shoplifting and the tabloid scrutiny that followed, she retreated from the spotlight—a period that, for Ryder, was as much about regrouping as it was stepping out of a life she’d inhabited since her teens and figuring out what she wanted out of it all.

It wasn’t until she played an aging ballerina in Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan in 2010 that she finally felt her career had turned a corner.

“That was a very liberating thing, because I was playing my age. … And I think in a lot of people’s minds, that really helped. I sort of graduated,” she told The New York Times in 2016.

Now 52, Ryder is in a much different place in her life and work, inhabiting more of an elder-stateswoman role.

She refuses, for example, to wear heels on the red carpet, preferring to style herself (a rarity in Hollywood), either hiding her boots with a floor-length dress or incorporating them into her outfit.

“I actually made a conscious decision, maybe six years ago,” she says.

The Winona Book, published last year by Idea Books, features candid Polaroids of her by Robert Rich, the former vice president of public relations for Marc Jacobs, who became her close friend and whose basement office below the Marc Jacobs store in New York’s SoHo neighborhood was a haven for celebrities looking to remain undetected.

The book achieved a cultlike status and sells for up to $300 on eBay.

She has been with Hahn, founder of the sustainable organic-cotton company Loomstate, for the past 14 years.

(The two met at the premiere of Black Swan, when Hahn, who failed to recognize Ryder, complimented her for her work in The Fifth Element, a film in which she never appeared.)

Hahn, who joins us during our cemetery walk, is handsome and soft-spoken.

He has a distinctly grounding presence, serving, seemingly, as a kind of ballast to Ryder’s more windblown life as an actor.

“He’s so great. He really is. I’m really lucky,” Ryder says.

They will soon return to either New York City, where they rent, or Los Angeles, where she owns a house.

She and Hahn want to move, but they’re not entirely clear as to where.

“She definitely HELPED me FEEL less ALONE,” says Jenna Ortega.

Ryder is nervous about the upcoming election.

Her parents—established writers and left-wing intellectuals—decamped from Northern California, where Ryder was raised, to Canada after George W. Bush was re-elected in 2004.

Uncertainty looms on the horizon.

Ryder—who can careen from topic to topic in delightful digressions—lists why: the college-campus protests, Jared Kushner’s statement about developing Gaza, the carceral system, and Joe Biden’s chances of beating back Trump in the general election.

“It’s just a scary time,” she adds.

Soon after the first Beetlejuice premiered, there were rumors that Burton was at work on a sequel.

Supposedly, a script for Beetlejuice Goes Hawaiian once existed.

“Beetlejuice Goes to Outer Space, Beetlejuice does whatever,” Burton says.

“There’d been talk about it, but I never really understood why it was popular. And this was when people didn’t talk about sequels.”

In the intervening decades, though, Ryder and Burton kept in touch, meeting secretly to discuss making a second Beetlejuice.

“There were a lot of times my agents didn’t know that I was meeting up with him,” Ryder says.

Beetlejuice tells the story of Barbara and Adam Maitland (played by Geena Davis and Alec Baldwin), a young couple living in Winter River, Connecticut, who tragically die in a car accident only to discover, to their surprise, that they have become ghosts.

Their peaceful country home has been sold to the obnoxious and ostentatious Deetz family, which includes Charles, a wealthy real-estate developer;

his wife, Delia, a sculpture artist (played brilliantly by Catherine O’Hara, whose future husband, Bo Welch, was the production designer);

and Charles’s daughter from his first marriage, Lydia.

The Maitlands call upon an ancient trickster demon named Beetlejuice (Michael Keaton) to help scare the Deetz family away, as their extravagant renovation and garish art collection have obliterated all calm and happiness from their (now dead) existence.

As a director, Burton is a first-class world builder whose imaginative leaps have kept him distinctly out of step with his peers.

Unlike other cult films from the 1980s and ’90s that have developed a dated patina over time, Burton’s work often feels suspended in another universe altogether.

The world of Beetlejuice exists in a strangely gothic contemporary America, one where ghosts blast Harry Belafonte at full volume and where a demon can don a black-and-white-striped suit that looks like it could have been designed by the Antwerp Six.

As Lydia puts it so well in the first film: “I myself am strange and unusual.”

Burton had made his directorial debut a few years prior with Pee-wee’s Big Adventure.

Ryder was a virtual unknown, with just Lucas under her belt, a role for which she had dyed her hair black.

It’s a style choice she has more or less maintained throughout her career.

If you watch Lucas, you can see flickers of Lydia Deetz in Ryder’s Rina:

Both are young women in possession of an innate sense of cool.

“Tim’s a terrific caster,” says Keaton. “He doesn’t always get credit for that, but if you look through his films, he always casts really, really well, and that includes Winona.”

“When I met Winona, she reminded me of how I felt as a teenager,” says Burton.

“And she’s got what I love with certain actors. She can say something with just her eyes. … There’s a soul coming out. So without dialogue, without anything, there’s something there. It’s why you make movies.”

“Everyone wanted to be Lydia after watching the first film,” says Ortega.

“She’s so self-assured and smart and ahead of her time.” Indeed, Beetlejuice unlocks a deep truth about what it feels like to be a teenager and what it’s like to grow up in an increasingly alienating world. When Lydia discovers that she can see ghosts, it reveals a kind of supernatural exceptionalism to her, which is something most teenagers hope for in their lives: for something to rescue us from the banality of the ordinary. That is the appeal of Lydia Deetz. But it took Ryder to give Lydia a particular vulnerability, a kind of softness and naivete that endears her to everyone. “I feel like MOIRA ROSE of Schitt’s Creek and DELIA DEETZ are SISTERS”

As Ryder recalls, her first encounter with Burton was unassuming.

That day, she strode onto a soundstage at Culver Studios to meet Burton, with her father waiting for her in their car. Character actors were on their lunch breaks, a woman was dressed in a corset, and someone else was in an animal costume with the head removed.

“I was sitting there, and this guy came in holding a folder, who I thought was a messenger or something. We started talking about Edward Gorey. About half an hour into this conversation, I feel like I’m making a friend, and I ask him, ‘Do you know Tim Burton? This is his office, right?’ And he went, ‘Well, that’s me.’ I didn’t know that directors could look like Tim. He was 27. Immediately, I was like, ‘Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Do you want me to read?’ He told me no. I remember feeling like ‘Oh, God, did I blow it?’ I had this fear when I got up to leave, and I was like, ‘Hey, man, it was really great meeting you. Good luck, this sounds really great.’ I added, ‘If you want, I can come back.’ But he told me that he wanted me to do it. That had never happened. I’d never been offered a part without a reading for it or on the spot like that, ever.”

“She probably thought I was some kind of weird stalker,” says Burton.

“But I had that effect on people. I didn’t speak very well, so people didn’t understand what I was saying. In fact, they still don’t. But again, that’s why I feel like we connected, because I didn’t scare her away. She ultimately got it and got who I was.”

Beetlejuice was a resounding success.

It would also form the beginning of a sustained relationship between the director and both Keaton and Ryder, with Burton casting them in his subsequent films.

Keaton would play the titular Caped Crusader in 1989’s Batman and 1992’s Batman Returns, and Ryder would star as Kim Boggs in Edward Scissorhands in 1990, opposite her then-boyfriend, Johnny Depp.

She describes working with Burton as a kind of “telepathy,” one where the director doesn’t finish his sentences and gestures his intentions but she still, somehow, understands perfectly what he’s trying to convey.

“He could be like, ‘Maybe, I think, yeah. You know?’ And I’ll be like, ‘Yeah, totally. I know.’ ”

Did they understand they were making a cult film?

Something that would spawn a Broadway musical and an endless parade of Halloween costumes, memes, imitations, and subtle references (“I do feel like Moira Rose of Schitt’s Creek and Delia Deetz are sisters,” says Ryder)—an unrelenting obsession the world over?

“We weren’t quite sure what we were making,” recalls Keaton. “We just knew this guy had something.”

“I THINK, ‘What if I just HANG IT UP?’ And then you start THINKING of ALL THE PEOPLE that you would WORK with if they CALLED, and that’s NOT really RETIRING. That’s just BEING AVAILABLE.”

We retreat from the afternoon heat to the shade of a large magnolia tree whose long, jointed branches are something out of a Burton set.

Hahn points out the tombstone of the golfer Bobby Jones, which is decorated in white golf balls, and later we stumble upon Kenny Rogers’s grave.

Hahn plucks a magnolia flower from the tree’s bough and encourages us each to smell it.

The scent is floral and citrusy, with a darker, more vegetal sensibility.

I ask Ryder about her Jarmusch pin.

In 1991, she played a young taxi driver in his film Night on Earth.

Working on a big show like Stranger Things can be draining, she admits, though she’s ever grateful for the opportunity.

“And then I think, ‘What if I just hang it up?’ And then I think, ‘Well, if Jim wanted me to do something, I would do it,’ and then you start thinking of all the people that you would work with if they called, and that’s not really retiring. That’s just being available,” she says.

We are near a large Confederate memorial, and Ryder begins musing on history, war, and post-traumatic stress disorder.

When did the term PTSD first appear, she wonders?

“I know it was once called shell shock,” she says.

We discuss how it is more commonly understood today that people other than veterans can have PTSD.

Ryder is quick to acknowledge the unparalleled violence and trauma of war.

Still, our conversation somehow reminds me of what Ortega tells me about Ryder, how the actress was incredibly generous with her when they first met, which was right around the time Ortega’s own star was taking off with her portrayal of Wednesday Addams in Burton’s 2022 Netflix series Wednesday.

“She definitely helped me feel less alone,” says Ortega.

“It’s a very isolating experience and a scary one. Being able to speak to somebody who had witnessed that firsthand, maybe even more, was a great source of comfort for me, and I can’t thank her enough for that.”

These days, Ryder is a self-professed Luddite and is not on any social media, maintaining a blissful ignorance of what the public has to say about her.

Earlier this year, Kendall Jenner wore a 1999 archival Givenchy dress designed by Alexander McQueen to the Met Gala, claiming she was the “first human” to ever wear it.

Quickly, though, photographs circulated online of Ryder wearing the dress the same year it was designed in a photo shoot for Flaunt magazine.

Ryder was silent on the matter at the time. “I heard about that,” Ryder says when I ask her about it.

Liv Liberg

“I do remember that photo shoot. It was with my dear friend [and makeup artist] Kevyn Aucoin,” she says.

“And I did wear it. I have pictures. The photographer gave me some prints. I’m in a tartan in one of them, and I’m in that dress.”

The next day, Ryder texts me a photograph of herself as a 13-year-old.

This was from before she had been cast in anything, before she nabbed the role of Veronica in Heathers just a few years later, in part by going to the mall and asking for a makeover to prove she could, in fact, look like the pretty and popular one.

Her hair is boyishly cropped, and she’s wearing a plaid cardigan over a Clash T-shirt.

She looks beautiful and impossibly cool.

I can see instantly how the world fell in love with her.

Even now, though she has managed to mature in the public eye, she still possesses what one director told me was a “romantic fragility” that adds an immeasurable depth to whomever she plays onscreen.

We exchange a few more messages.

Did she ever think she had PTSD from those early days, when the white-hot light of the spotlight was focused so intensely on her?

“The answer would be no,” she wrote back the next day.

“I feel incredibly lucky to have been able to live this life—however intense and overwhelming it got, it’s NOTHING compared to what it is now with the internet and social media. I just find myself feeling tremendous empathy toward people who have sacrificed so much.”

A little bit later, I’m struck by a silly impulse to know one last thing after our cemetery walk and I send her another text:

Does she believe in ghosts?

The afterlife?

We all know what Lydia Deetz would say. But Ryder doesn’t respond.

[percontaion-points]

Client No 5 chapters 11 & 12

This book review contains discussions of sw; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 11

“What do you want, Todd?” I snapped.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to remind you how good we were. I helped you that night.”

For sure the relationship between Todd and Ally is filed under “he might not hit you but…” Yes, Ally is working under him of her own free will. But look me in the eye and tell me that Todd constantly pushing her to have sex with him, to go meet more clients than she wants, to go see a client that she’s said she will not be servicing again… Is a healthy relationship. 

I smiled. My friends were certainly unconventional, but I loved them for it.

Chapter 11 summary: At home, Ally tries to sleep but can’t. So she gets up to get some warm milk, and finds Jamie dressed to go out. She says that she’s going to a party with Amy, Todd, and Adam, and that Ally should come along, too. That it would help get her out of her funk. Ally agrees, and gets ready. 

When they arrive at Adam’s apartment, the other three had already started. What happens next is… well. It’s a goddamned orgy. I don’t know what anybody was expecting. 

But then Todd tries to fuck Ally, and she has a nervous breakdown. She runs into the bathroom, but Todd comes to try and talk to her. 

The two of them end up fucking in the other room. Ally uses Todd to get over every bad relationship that she’s been in. The guy named Nick who broke her heart. Widower Robert. Scott. When they finish, Ally feels more like herself, like her mask is back in place. 

She looks at herself in the mirror and decides that she’s ready to face Scott in the morning. He called her a whore, because that’s what she is. 

She slips out, leaving the others to their fun. 

Chapter 12

He dipped his fingers into my [vaginal] wetness and swirled them around. He pumped them in and out a few times, and I moaned to give him a show. 

Then, to my surprise, his fingers moved higher and he started spreading the moisture over my anus. It appeared he did want ass after all— literally. 

I wasn’t opposed to anal sex. I’d done it plenty of times before; I was just surprised because most guys would start with the girly parts and move to the ass after they were worked up. 

“I’m going to fuck your ass.” 

Thanks for stating the obvious! I pushed my butt a bit higher to give him better access and moaned. “Mmm, put it in me.”  

Anal sex was probably a good option for Mr. Quickie. I’d found through experience that guys could go a long time in the pussy, but anal sex was usually over much faster. I guessed that the extra tightness and pressure was too stimulating for guys to hold out for long. 

He pushed inside me slowly and I relaxed my body, letting him in. 

SHE’S LETTING HIM DO ANAL WITHOUT LUBE?! DEAR LORD, DOES THE AUTHOR KNOW HOW MUCH THAT FREAKING HURTS?!

He took my hand as we left the 21 Club, fingers laced together. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I suddenly had a boyfriend. Who was I, and where had Ally gone?

Chapter 12 summary: Ally is getting ready to go meet with Scott when Todd calls to tell her that she has a last-minute client. She’s upset, but he points out that she’s got 2 hours before that, so she has plenty of time.

So she goes to meet the guy, who wants anal. Ally thinks that the guy is a closeted gay but is too embarrassed to hire a gay escort. She thinks about asking Todd to find another guy who’ll do that, as she doesn’t think Adam is into guys like that. Not even gay for pay. 

That appointment made her a little late for her meeting with Scott. Exactly as everybody had predicted, he’s there to beg for her love. But he doesn’t want her to be an escort anymore. Ally obviously says no, that she’s doing this because she loves to fuck, and not because she’s hard-up for money or a job. 

It really boils down to the fact that Ally is scared of being hurt again. In her opinion, you either have a messy break-up, or one of you dies. And either way, the only thing that’s left is so much pain you wish you were dead. 

Despite Ally wanting to leave, and to never see Scott again, he somehow convinces her to be his girlfriend. And that she shouldn’t take any clients when he’s in town. Ally doesn’t like that last bit, and points out that he’d simply move to New York full-time and force her to stop working if the two of them want to be together. He insists that he wouldn’t do that. Ally does agree, but inwardly winces over how she’s going to have to pick up the slack during the rest of the week. 

[eviesaurusrex]

ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ꜱᴍɪʟᴇꜱ, ᴘᴛ. 2 | ꜱ. ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ

GIF not mine!

Stephen Strange x Avenger!Reader

ask: Could you write a Stephen Strange x reader one shot (or longer if you feel it haha) where the reader is an avenger and she’s secretly dating Stephen? Like they’re sneaking around and staying at each other’s places (sanctum and tower/compound) and use portals in the mornings to get back where they’re supposed to be. Maybe a close call where Stephen literally kicks her off the bed and into a portal back to her own bed to avoid getting caught. Then later they’re found out somehow by tony/the team?

word count: 9.8k (send some help, please)

warnings: even more fluff, a bit of angst, nightmare, some good ol’ nightmare aftercare proudly presented you by Stephen Strange, more sneaking around the team, the team gets suspicious, cursing, curse words, Stephen being… Stephen, injuries

author’s note: pt. 2 is here!!!! Gosh, I’m still so excited about this ask and have to pour my entire heart into it. Thanks again for the request @clockblobber <3 This one is proofread but ignore mistakes if you stumble upon them – my brain is mush today, and I’m gonna go over it again tomorrow

»pt. 1 is here«

Typing away on her phone – Stephen had been at Kamar-Taj for quite some time now to deal with the new students of the mystic arts, and she had insisted that he saved all his energy for teaching them instead of visiting her every night – YN entered the living area of the compound after arriving from an intel mission only minutes ago. Scott followed close behind because his adjustable size had been crucial for the success of the mission, and with a deep sigh, he dropped into one of the armchairs unoccupied by the other present Avengers who had gathered for movie night.

YN didn’t even notice, too enthralled by the device between her fingers, and ran straightly into a walking Peter, who almost lost his balance. “Woah, hey there, Peter.” She grabbed his arm to prevent him from meeting the floor on a more intimate level and pushed the phone into the back pocket of her jeans. “Sorry, didn’t see you,” YN apologized while patting his shoulder softly. She always had gotten a soft spot for the young man and always looked out for him during missions, even though he could handle himself pretty darn good.

The brunette shook his head in protest. “It was my–…” But YN didn’t let him finish. “Nah-uh, I don’t wanna hear a single word.” She turned her head to be greeted by seven pairs of staring eyes, curiosity filled their irises completely – and she didn’t like one second of it. “Nevermind. You people prepared some decent snacks, or do I have to do the work again?” Because that had been the case during the last couple of movie nights which ended in ordering pizza and bickering about the choice of film.

They never really managed to watch more than one before it’s gotten worse and worse until Tony demanded the remote control sovereignty because he had paid for everything they used, while Nat and herself booed loudly because the Widows never were a fan of another Star Wars-filled night. Peter was always on Tony’s side – naturally – while Bucky and Steve kept themselves out of the discussion, still not really used to the “new” pop culture they had to face nowadays. At least Wanda, Clint, and Scott counted themselves as a constant part of Team Widow, and Thor, as well as Bruce, loved to hop between camps, always depending on the movie in question. Only Vision was indifferent, but everyone had gotten used to it by now.

It was utter chaos, sometimes even on the brink of anarchy, but YN loved it. She never had something like that in her life – at least, she couldn’t remember having a family – because she was never as lucky as Nat and never had a pretending family. Even though she wasn’t sure if she would’ve liked it very much. She always had lived her life within the confinements of the Red Room, always under the watchful eye of high-ranking generals and officers, always under the influence of a drug she didn’t want to remember. She had killed not only for Dreykov but also Hydra. She had met the Winter Soldier long before he had escaped his cruel purpose. And then, Nat had found her during one of her missions, months after the attack on New York, and Bruce and Tony had managed to get the drug out of her system. They had saved her and given her a life with a purpose, with a moral compass. YN had gotten another chance. And with that chance, a certain master of the mystic arts came into the picture – and the rest was history.

Blinking rapidly, YN escaped her thoughts and turned her attention back to the group. “The food is on its way, but we could use some more snacks,” Wanda told her, an apologetic smile on her face, but YN only rolled her eyes with a grin. “Sure y’all do. I’m gonna get you covered – but don’t you dare start the movie without me!” She made eye contact with Tony, who already held the remote in hand, and cocked not only an eyebrow but her head as well. “Try me, Stark,” she warned, and the man raised both hands in surrender. “We will behave perfectly.” Nodding, YN turned around, phone already in hand again, and trotted through the corridor into the kitchen.

Arriving there, the device started to vibrate, but it wasn’t an incoming text. With a soft smile, she accepted the call and settled the phone between ear and shoulder. “To what do I owe the honor of your call?” A greeting wasn’t necessary between these two anymore. Calling one another was as simple as taking Wilson down in combat training, unlike during the beginning of their relationship. Calls had been an utter nightmare.

A chuckle echoed through the speaker. “Do I need a reason to call the woman to whom I’ve pledged my love and devotion?” Softly laughing, YN grabbed a stack of bowls out of one of the many cupboards and spread them over the counter. “I see, you’ve read a lot of Shakespearian-sounding literature. Anything interesting?” She could hear Stephen’s grin from the other end of the world. “A few works weren’t that bad. I found spells I have never heard of before, and I think they could be useful if mastered properly. What are you up to, darling?”

In the meantime, YN had grabbed an assortment of snacks, and after ripping every package open, she dumped them in the waiting bowls, one by one. “Oh, nothing. It’s Friday, so we have movie night at the compound, and it will be a nightmare after film one. Just the usual.” She almost felt his sympathy physically. “I suppose Stark won’t give up the remote?” Scoffing, the Widow rounded the kitchen island to take a closer look into the freezer. “You can bet your sexy ass on it, love. Oh, yes. Come to me, ice cream!” She hadn’t planned for the outburst to leave her lips, but well.

With an evil chuckle, YN grabbed the last package of ice cream from behind a mountain of frosted vegetables – Nice try, Tony – and opened the foil to start eating it before returning to the living room. “Remind me never to hide any ice cream from you, my evil darling,” he laughed, and YN grinned happily. “It’s his ice cream. I would never dare to steal your ice cream because I love you dearly, my dear.”

Softly humming while eating the sweet substance, the woman leaned against the counter, totally unaware of the young man who stood just around the corner and heard every single word. She and Stephen talked for a few minutes more before they ended the call with the promise of a cozy weekend after she came back from her scheduled mission in Prague.

Meanwhile, Peter stood almost frozen in the middle of the living room, eyes wide and unsure where to start – and if he should say a word about the discovery he just had made anyway. But his mouth was faster than his brain. “Uhm… You always complain that YN is… is vanishing so often?” Instantly, Peter had gathered the attention of every single soul within this room. Steve furrowed his forehead, and even Bucky looked a bit worried while Tony straightened up on his spot on the couch. “Yeah? Talk, kiddo.” Peter scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “I think she has a boyfriend – or girlfriend! I’m totally open for both if she likes women more than men and if her partner in crime is a woman, that’s super cool because rainbows and love and–…” Scott patted his shoulder to silence the young superhero. “Think, that’s enough, Peter.”

The team exchanged glances before a bubbling laugh escaped from Tony’s mouth and let them look in his direction. Tears gathered in his eyes while his body shook with every laughter erupted from him. “YN and… and a boyfriend! Best joke ever!” Still laughing, Tony wiped the tears off his cheeks and shook his head. “Keep believing that, kiddo, but we know her a bit longer than you do. She would never have something like that because love isn’t her thing.” Nat cocked a copper eyebrow. “Love is her thing, but only on paper within books because men exhaust her – and she is only interested in them.” Steve seemed not to be convinced fully, but the creases on his forehead slowly erased themselves and Bucky leaned back on the two-seater they shared. “Not everyone needs love in their lives. Some only need certain needs satisfied, and…–“ Wanda threw a pillow against the former Winter Soldier’s head. “Bucky! He is still a teenager!” He raised both hands before crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“But…” Peter tried, but now it was Clint who patted his other shoulder. “Drop it, kid. She disappears to have time to herself. It gets crowded here, and sometimes, her thoughts run in the wrong direction. Can’t blame her. Everyone needs some peace and quietness from time to time.”

Unconvinced, Peter plopped down onto one of the two beanbags, the other entirely reserved for YN herself, and just a second later, three bowls floated through the doorframe into the living room. Before they could settle down on the coffee table between the seating area and flatscreen, Vision and Wanda took them out of the air and placed them down themselves. YN entered right after that, the other three bowls in her arms and a thankful expression in her eyes. “Thanks, V, Wanda. Wasn’t sure if I could master the landing.”

The red-haired witch smiled at her while the Widow rounded the couch and dropped her body onto the dark blue beanbag. “I told you it would get better with some more practice.” She sounded more than a bit pleased. YN grinned up at her. “Yup, totally.” She didn’t need to know that a certain sorcerer had helped her with the powers she mostly could only use with blunt force because no one in the Red Room had bothered to tame her. Years might have been passed since her escape, but those powers were gone for a while after her mind had reached the surface of consciousness. Probably a self-protection mechanism if Stephen was right with his educated guess. At least she could control them to a certain extent now. It would get better over time.

Another text from Stephen shifted her mood for the better after it had tried to take a detour back to the dark place it loved to sit and sulk. The movie was secondary, and even after the food arrived – sushi and pizza – YN barely looked up from her phone and was awfully quiet as soon as the bickering started anew.

Steve watched her closely and shock settled in his chest at the sight of a smile he had never seen on the face of one of his best friends before. Happy. Full of contentment. Her eyes twinkling and sparkling. She never was unhappy, of course not, but the soldier from another time knew the feeling she had always felt – the feeling of not fitting in. And suddenly, a realization crept up on him: Maybe that feeling had vanished somewhere along the road.

;

It was quiet in the compound. The world’s mightiest heroes had ended the day a few hours prior, soon after the Quinjet with YN and Sam had landed on the tarmac. It had become a ritual to wait upon arriving team members and to drink a soothing cup of tea to unwind from the previous mission and catch up on the gossip inside the compound.

Now, YN slept in the warm and loving embrace of a pair of strong arms, her head laying on a softly rising and falling chest, the sounds of Stephen’s deep slumber always the best method to lull her into sleep. But she started to move, softly at first, barely palpable. She rolled off his chest, and naturally, the tight embrace loosened around her body. Nails dragged over the comforter, ripped loose threads off the fabric while YN’s face contorted in confusion and fear, in agony and horror. Her breathing quickened, the heart within her rib cage started to race, and sweat dampened her forehead and back.

The dreams always hunted the Widow, but oh boy. The horrors of other nights were nothing in comparison.

The first escaping moan didn’t wake Stephen, not even the second one, the man too tired from long hours inside the Sanctum’s library to find one specific spell he had needed.

It was the scream that woke him with a startle.

“NO!”

Stephen didn’t need to turn on the light to see exactly where she was after tearing open his eyes. He pushed the traitorous blankets off his legs to scoot over to the moving and trashing woman. His hands almost didn’t grasp her arms because it scared the man how cold and damp her skin was. She had those dreams not as often as they used to come, but they were never this bad.

The next scream, so full of agony and blank horror, ripped his already bleeding heart to shreds. Stephen grabbed her upper arms softly, stroked them, caressed her face while pleading with her barely conscious mind to let her escape her own personal hell.

“YN, please. Please, wake up. I am here, nothing is going to happen. Everything is alright. It’s just a dream, only a dream. I am here, love. God damn it, let her wake up!” His voice sounded helpless, angry about the universe and himself, and with horror in his own eyes, he could see the light of the corridor suddenly shining through the slit between door and floor. Shaking her gently but urgently, Stephen tried it again while multiple hurried steps came closer to her door. “YN. YN! Wake up, love!”

With a violent gasp, her eyes finally teared open, tears staining her reddened cheeks, beads of sweat tracing her temples and contracting throat. Her eyes immediately found his face, but Stephen couldn’t mutter a single word. Instead, he left the bed in a hurry and hid in the bathroom – not his best move, but he didn’t care at the moment – and just in time, he closed the door only for another door to be opened. Hurried voices echoed through the room, and the sorcerer pushed both hands into his hair, running them through it over and over to calm himself and his rapid heartbeat.

He hated how helpless he had felt and still felt while others comforted his girl. He hated every single second of it and counted the moments until they left and closed the door again.

“Stephen…?”

Her small, shaking, and questioning voice pulled the sorcerer out of his spiraling thoughts, and without wasting another second, he ripped open the door. With a few long strides, he was back at her side, settling into their bed and pulling her flush against his chest. Stephen could feel the tears wetting his shirt, but he didn’t care. She could ruin every single piece of clothing he owned, and he would hold her anyway.

“I am here,” he whispered between kisses on her head. “Nothing is going to happen to you.” He could feel her short but stiff nod, almost as if she was a robot and didn’t learn how to move like a human. Both his hands stroked over her back - up and down, in a never-ending motion. Her body still trembled, and YN dug her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, clung to the man like a drowning woman clinging to a piece of driftwood. “I love you. I love you more than anything in this universe. I will always love you. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. They can’t hurt you.” He didn’t make any sense, but it didn’t matter.

After what felt like a never-ending eternity, YN stopped shaking like a leaf, her breathing slowed down again, and her hold on him was not that crushing anymore. “Sorry,” she mumbled, but Stephen was quick to brush through her hair and soothe the rising anxiety within her tormented mind. “Stop apologizing. There is nothing to apologize for.” He needed her to understand that, but his girl was smarter than anyone else – maybe except him.

She tried to find a more comfortable position but gave up because every single piece of fabric clung to her still damp skin. “Where did you hide?” Her voice was only a whisper, but the silence had settled back over the compound, so Stephen heard every single word and every single breath. “The bathroom,” he mumbled and pressed a soft kiss to her neck. YN’s soft chuckle was a good sign, and it put the beginning of a smile on his face. “Not your best move, love. Imagine one of them would’ve gone in there to get a cool cloth or something. What a sight that would be…”

He may roll his eyes, but Stephen was glad that YN could already joke around. That had always been a good sign.

The sorcerer pressed another kiss to her neck before looking into her barely lit face. “Do you want to talk about it?” Slowly, she shook her head. He knew she would decline just now, but he had to ask nonetheless. “Can’t. Need the sun to be up.” Her illogical fear of getting dragged back into the hell that was the Red Room still present in her overworking mind, and she knew how stupid it was. But Stephen never had judged her, not one single second. “Of course,” he said, caressing her face. “How about a shower?” She nodded against his neck, where she buried her face now, and Stephen picked her up with ease to carry her into his former hiding spot.

And that’s where they spent almost an hour under the warm water jet, her eyes closed, while Stephen softly washed her hair and did her entire hair and skincare routine. It always amazed YN how much attention this man granted her alone and how much he seemed to adore her. It was mind-blowing, really, and she desperately wished that this would be something lasting an entire lifetime.

;

Holding hands like lovestruck teenagers, YN and Stephen walked through Greenwich Village to enjoy one of the loveliest golden fall days they had encountered in a long time. She loved seeing the man next to her in casual clothes – a long dark jeans, grey shirt, and a dark green cardigan – though she wasn’t sure what about it made him look so irresistible. Maybe it was the domesticity of it, the warm feeling of home, and the comforting knowledge that one was deeply loved and valued. Or perhaps it was just his good looks and the eyes full of envy thrown her way by nearly every woman they’d passed so far.

Stephen gingerly pulled her closer to his side and put her hand around his bicep, wanting her as close as possible. Everyone should know that this woman wasn’t just an acquaintance, a mere friend who just happened to walk with him in the same direction. He could see the looks full of longing and the visible drool on some male’s chins. It was only natural that he did something about it, so he bent down and pressed a lingering kiss on YN’s temple to show the world what they needed to know. He was glad that reporters didn’t try to bother them anymore.

At least one thing Tony’s existence is good for, Stephen thought cynical, but different from his thoughts, his mood shone as bright as the fall sun over their heads.

“What are you up for today?” YN beat him to this crucial question. “Lazy walks around the block? A trip to Belvedere Castle? Exploring the new exhibition at the Louvre?” Her eyes looked as bright as the sky above them, and if the world paid close attention to the sorcerer now, they would’ve bared witness to the softest of smiles they’d have ever seen. But the world was blind, so the smile full of adoration and utter wonder over how his life had turned only visible for the one woman in his life.

Humming deep in thought, Stephen pulled one of her hands, which were both settled around his arm and in the crook between bicep and elbow, up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “I’ve heard there is a new patisserie only two blocks further which happens to sell chocolate strawberries,” the man suggested, and pride and satisfaction filled his chest and body at the sight of her round eyes and the radiant smile stretching across her lips.

His past self wouldn’t believe his eyes. During some days, even he had difficulties comprehending the change he went through in order to become as worthy as possible for the woman next to him. Still, he didn’t believe to be worthy enough and was convinced that better men were waiting for her, but he couldn’t let her go. He was, again, too selfish, but she seemingly didn’t mind.

Maybe the universe granted him the happy ending after all.

“Can we go there? Like… now? Immediately?” Grinning, Stephen nodded but didn’t think of using a portal. He needed to savor every single second he could get with her – just as she did with him. So they walked the two blocks, side by side, softly telling each other about their respective days and just basking in each other’s presence.

The idyll got suddenly destroyed as YN stopped dead in her tracks and stared over the busy street to her right. She needed to bent around Stephen because the stubborn man never let her walk next to the road if he was with her, but she was sure her peripheral vision hadn’t tricked her. And the Widow was right: on the other side were Clint and Nat, talking about something which made the archer laugh.

“Fuck,” was all she hissed for now, and even Stephen caught up to her observation. But he couldn’t form a single word because the woman had already grabbed his hand and pulled him to continue their route for now. Her eyes were trained on the opposite side of the road while she gracefully avoided collisions with every approaching passerby. The sorcerer didn’t know how exactly she did that, but maybe it was her own little magic trick. He only followed her, always alternating between looking to the other pair of Avengers and straight ahead to nudge YN in a different direction if necessary.

“We need to turn the next one,” YN decided at the sight of Nat and Clint waiting for the streetlight to turn green. “And we need to be faster.” As soon as the words had left her lips, Nat turned slightly and looked in their vague direction. “Stephen, now.” They dived behind a group of tourists and sneaked into an alleyway but didn’t stop. Instead, their steps increased in speed, and YN guided them through a labyrinth of hidden shortcuts, backyards, and a tremendous amount of turns and corners. “You definitely have Google Maps in that pretty head of yours,” the sorcerer decided after another complicated combination of turning and shortcutting, and YN chuckled cheerfully while he had lost track after the second corner. “The first premise is always to know your neighborhoods better than the content of your backpack. And since I’m spending almost more time here than at the compound, I believed it was time to know my way around – just in case.” Grinning, YN guided them through another alleyway, but now, they stepped onto one of the main streets of Greenwich Village, the Sanctum Sanctorum already in sight.

Stephen turned towards her and cocked an eyebrow. “But what’s with the chocolate strawberries?” YN softly shrugged and circled both arms around his neck; his hands almost immediately settled upon her jeans-clad hips, pushed underneath the long cardigan she had thrown over the old band shirt she wore and which was her pride and joy. She rubbed the tip of their noses against each other and kissed him quickly. “We can get them later. What about that trip to the Louvre? I’m tempted to bet that we won’t see any of their faces in Paris,” the Widow whispered temptingly against his lips, and if Stephen weren’t already sold, he would be now.

But before he released her out of his grasp, he bent his head lower to kiss her properly – one hand tangled in her soft hair while the other pulled her smaller body against his. Their lips moved in complete sync, eyes closed at the blissful feeling of warmth and butterflies, breathing labored, hearts beating rapidly against one another.

Smirking, Stephen ended the kiss with one last sweet peck. He wasn’t sure what had happened in the last two and a half years ever since that woman entered his life and turned everything upside down, but he never would want it any other way.

“Now, we can go,” he spoke with a raspy but tender voice, and the portal opened just behind him to lead the couple into the heart of the city of love. He held his hand open, so YN could take it what she did with a bright smile on her gorgeous face. “Madame.” She curtsied with a soft grin. “Merci beaucoup, monsieur.” The reply escaped her in flawless French as she stepped over the golden glittering threshold, and she pulled Stephen with her before the portal closed itself and released the couple into a carefree Parisian afternoon.

;

“Sometimes you have the greatest ideas,” YN sighed, stomach full and on an endorphin high with all the sugar and love in her system. Stephen stretched his long, toned body over the comforter laying atop his four-poster bed, head propped up on one hand, eyes locked on the woman on the other side of the mattress, the remnants of their small indoor picnic between them. “Only sometimes, hm?” He teased her, and YN laughed wholeheartedly while taking one of the napkins and throwing it in the vague direction of his smirking face. “Oh, stop it,” she grinned before stealing the last chocolate strawberry and plopping the sweet fruit between her lips. Moaning, she chewed with closed eyes and let herself fall back into the pillows. “Best thing there is on this planet.”

His hand moved softly through the air, from left to right, his scarred pointer and ring finger sticking out while the rest was balled to a half-fist, and suddenly, the picnic disappeared. The sorcerer knew it would find its way onto the kitchen counter left from the sink. But he didn’t concern himself with the whereabouts of the dishes because as soon as the magic was executed, Stephen rolled himself on top of YN, arms resting next to her face so he wouldn’t crush her under his weight.

“You’re really trying to insult me even more?” It was only a rumble against her lips, and now it was her to smirk up to the sorcerer. “Yes, because I know what those tiny hits do to you – and what it will bring me,” she whispered back before kissing him softly, the sound of heavy raindrops loud on the windows of the Sanctum.

They had planned for a picnic in Central Park, far away from the privacy-invading eyes of nosy New Yorkers and tourists as soon as they lay eyes on the two Avengers. The forecast had been perfect all week long, but then, just after they had gotten ready and opened the doors of the grand building in Greenwich Village, the sky opened its gates, and the heaviest fall downpour in the history of New York made its appearance. Other people would’ve been crushed – other people as in YN – but Stephen didn’t graduate with honors when he would own nothing but simple-mindedness. He had wrapped YN in his arm, brought her back inside, and with a few flicks of his hands, the master bedroom was prepared for a cozy day indoors. They had watched numerous episodes of Golden Girls – YN loved the sitcom ever since encountering it during her post-Red Room recovery under the watchful eye of SHIELD – and she had even etched Stephen to play one of his old interviews for the prestigious Medical Journal. He didn’t like to dive into his old life, but he loved to watch the evident fascination on his girl’s face at the sight of his accomplishments. Stephen was nothing but a sucker for praise coming from this woman.

The feeling of her soft hands on the nape of his neck and her fingernails gently carding through the short hair there was everything Stephen needed or wanted in his life. It reminded him of his childhood, which barely happens anymore, but with her, everything felt light and bright, just as it did back then. Her chuckle at the feeling of his goatee tickling her lips was the sound he almost loved the most. It ranked somewhere between the tiredly mumbled I love you, Stephen when she was on the brink of sleep and the nicknames she used to call him. Nobody had believed that Stephen was a softy, he at the very least. But he was, and he didn’t want to change a thing about it.

“Thank you,” YN whispered between pecks of his lips and rubbed their noses against each other. She loved doing that. It always gave her a heart attack, for sure, especially when Stephen looked at her like he did now – as if she was the most important and gorgeous being on this planet – but it reminded her that her life was a different one now, filled with soft touches and warmth. There was still violence in it, definitely, but it was the good kind of violence. A violence born in the attempts to make earth a safer place, which was the entire opposite of her upbringing and early adulthood. And the man atop of her was a crucial part of it, and she loved every second. “For what?” His question almost got lost in the kiss they shared, lips moving more heated against one another while the tip of YN's tongue teased his soft bottom lip. YN shrugged and let Stephen roll over the mattress and, simultaneously, pull her on top of him. She propped her arms on his broad, strong chest - one of her preferred places on earth - and peppered his chin with soft kisses while searching for the right words. “For showing me love and how it is to be loved, and for always reminding me that this is my life now and not a dream I will wake up from one day and find myself back at square one. You’re completing me, love.” Her last words were barely a whisper, still too shy and insecure about expressing the depths of her feelings for this man, even though they had enough reasons to already know about them.

She was always scared of pushing him away with the intensity of her emotions as if her soul tried to compensate her for all those years without them, and YN probably would be scared for the rest of her life, even though no one had left her so far. Quiet the contrary. She had gained friends and an unexpected family, lifelong companions, and a relationship meant to be until her last day on earth, whenever that might be.

Smiling up to her, Stephen kissed her a second and a third time right after that, his fingers pushing soft strands of her hair out of her face with the beautifully blushed cheeks and behind her ear. "No, darling," he said lovingly and tenderly caressed the side of her face. Instantly, YN leaned into his touch, and Stephen thought his heart might explode right in this instant. "Don't thank me for that. You deserve every ounce of love I, and everyone else, can give you. And don't try to deny it. I know it's true." He looked up to her with seriousness in his bright blue eyes, capturing YN instantly like they always did. The couple just laid there, gazing into each other's eyes, before the woman on top of him cracked a small, shy smile and gently caressed his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. "You are a wonder, Stephen Vincent Strange," she whispered, blunt wonder and amazement evident in her soft voice. "I will thank the universe for the rest of my life for the path it had put me on." Now it was Stephen who felt the blood rushing swiftly into his cheeks, and clearing his throat, he chuckled awkwardly, not sure how to handle the emotions now rushing through his consciousness.

Whatever she is doing to us, don't let it stop, and don't you dare ruin it, a warning voice spoke somewhere in his head, and the sorcerer almost snorted audibly. As if he would ever destroy the safe haven these two had created together in a world where peace was sometimes hard to find and even harder to hold onto and preserve. He would be quite the idiot if he'd pushed or scared YN away. But to his very luck, this woman was as fearless as an amazon, born out of the stories of ancient times when gods walked the earth and granted individuals the power to conquer anything.

She owned that force of nature within her delicate body.

The fingertips of one hand had started to slowly stroke over the length of her spine, while his other hand had found its home on her right cheek, cupping the soft skin and smiling as YN turned her head to kiss his palm. "I'm not good with words, you know that, but the feeling is mutual, darling. I never had luck with relationships of any kind and nature, never knowing what to do and what was expected from me. But finding you was the greatest gift life could ever grant me because we're learning this together, experiencing everything together, without judgment and accusations if something goes wrong. This-," Stephen placed a gentle peck on the tip of her nose, "-us, is my safe haven. You are my safe haven. I don't need more." A grin formed on her face, and she cocked an eyebrow, doubtingly, and the sorcerer sighed and chuckled. "Well, plus some space for my books," he added, and YN laughed as well. "And for all of your suits and ties. Not to mention the space Cloaky demands in your closet over there."

Pulling her even closer to him - if that was even possible - Stephen growled lowly in his chest before pulling YN's face closer to his to steal another heated kiss. "I'm trying to express my feelings for you, woman, and all you do is continue to insult me. It's not the proper response." Now it was her to steal a kiss from him, and he felt the grin on his lips. "When did you ever care for properness and social expectations, Mr. Strange?" Stephen grinned a devilish smile before he moved his head to start nipping at the soft skin of her exposed neck. "No one had ever spoken truer words, but it still is Doctor Strange, my darling love, even for you."

YN couldn't fight the urgent need to let her eyes fall shut at the tingling feeling that Stephen's lips and teeth on her skin created in the pit of her stomach, and a deep sigh, suspiciously resembling an excited moan, escaped her.

But the mood was ruined faster than hurricane Katrina had reached the North American shore.

The sound of hurried steps, loud voices, and an overall hectic group of intruders let the couple look up and straight to the massive wooden door of the bedroom. YN didn't even have the time to roll off Stephen to find the perfect hiding spot - she already had a few spots in mind - because the familiar sound of voices let her freeze for a moment too long.

What is Tony doing here?! And is that... Steve's voice?

Her mind screamed question after question, and just as the steps reached the floor of their shared bedroom, Stephen did something she would never have expected to be on his mind, or he even dared to think of: He opened a portal right at the edge of the four poster bed and threw her an apologetic look. Her own eyes went wide, and YN shook her head - slowly at first until it became faster and harder with every passing heartbeat. "No. Don't you fucking da-...!" But it was too late because just as the Widow tried to finish the threat laying on the tip of her tongue, Stephen pushed her off his body, off the bed, and straight into the portal.

YN hated the feeling of falling - he knew that fucking well! - and a shriek fought its way out of her throat until she hit the edge of her own bed in her room at the compound. She felt and heard a crack as her back hit the edge of the mattress because this obnoxious, massive, and idiotic specimen of a moron had miscalculated everything, and she hung upside down on the furniture. Her arms were stretched over her head, hands resting on the carpet laying in front of her bed to prevent icy feet in the morning, and a groan escaped her as soon as her back started to protest vehemently.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

The portal was long closed, but YN felt the urge to scream her frustration out in the open before another groan left her.

"Fuck."

-

Stephen knew very well that he had a lot of making up to do after what he had just done, but they had never been this close to getting caught by the remaining team, who was still painfully unaware of the couple underneath them.

"Why do you barge into my home on a Saturday afternoon? Are you feeling lonely, Stark? Sorry to break it to you, but I'm neither your wife nor your boyfriend, which you brought here as well, what a surprise. Rogers." The two men, plus Wong and Wanda, almost stumbled over themselves as they pushed open the door and entered his bedroom, just as the portal had closed itself after one movement of his hand. Too close, reminded the voice in his head, and Stephen knew that YN and he had to discuss this very prominent issue in their lives.

The arriving Avengers composed themselves again before Tony spoke up. "If you would have been so kind and answered the thirty-six calls and messages, we wouldn't have to come all the way here, Gandalf. But as you obviously fucked up your phone, because I can't think of another reason for not answering, we had to come to pick you up like a damn lost kid at the information counter in a mall." His gaze didn't even flicker to the phone resting atop the bedside table. The sorcerer had put it in flight mode to have some uninterrupted hours with his girl, but that little habit of his bit them both in the ass. They really needed to talk about the whole ordeal. "So, swing your lazy ass out of this bed and do your job. Earth called to get rescued again."

And with that, Tony left, leaving a sighing Steve behind, while Wanda observed Stephen too closely for his liking. The sorcerer raised an eyebrow, challenging her with a glare to keep doing that, and the witch started to smile a small smile before following Tony down the grand staircase. After a "We should get going" from America's Golden Boy, he left as well, leaving only Wong and Stephen in his room. The other sorcerer shrugged with an expression almost describable as apologizing, and he shook his head before changing into his blue robes with a looping motion of his hand and a snap of his fingers.

Cloaky was right at his side and put itself on his shoulders but pushed the sorcerer to a sudden halt as it motioned into the direction where the portal to YN's bedroom had closed a few moments ago. "We'll check on her, I promise." The ancient artifact seemed pleased for the moment, but Stephen dreaded the future encounter with his girlfriend because he could already imagine her words and could vividly picture the scene unfolding in front of him a few hours later.

And he was right.

-

After a successful mission filled with otherworldly beings - the reason why 80% of the attending team had been able to handle magic - Stephen returned with the others to the compound and delivered his report before slipping away. He needed to find YN to evaluate the damage he had caused with his little stunt, and he obviously wasn't the only one with that thought because the red fabric around his shoulders parted from his master to fly a few steps ahead, even though it didn't know where they should head.

Looking up toward the corridor's ceiling, Stephen contemplated if it was a thoughtful idea to ask Tony's AI. The Stark was nothing but thorough, so it wouldn't surprise the sorcerer if the douchebag made notes after each and every day about what each team member had asked. But he had to take the risk if he didn't want to waste countless hours searching the vast compound by foot.

"FRIDAY? It's FRIDAY, isn't it?" He had never used the AI, not a single time, even though he had been part of this circus for longer than he liked to admit. "How can I be of assistance, Doctor Strange?" At least she doesn't sound like Tony himself, was all Stephen could think at that moment because it would be so typical for this self-loving prick. "Are you able to locate people inside the building?"

Meanwhile, he continued walking without a destination yet. "That is indeed part of my abilities. Who do you wish to locate?" He turned a corner and found himself in front of an elevator, Cloaky already levitating in front of it. "YN," it was almost a mumble, but the AI still understood him. Thinking about it in more detail, Stephen really didn't want to know what FRIDAY could hear inside the personal rooms of the Avengers.

Maybe Tony never took notes because if he would, there was not even the slight possibility that he didn't know about them - and Stephen would be long strangled in a random corner of the compound.

"Miss LN is currently on the second floor, gym 03." The elevator immediately opened its door and Cloaky floated inside, beckoning Stephen to follow it with an almost annoyingly raise of its fabric's edge. Sometimes the sorcerer wasn't sure if the Cloak of Levitation still saw him as its master or if he preferred YN over him. Sometimes it even felt like it was their child and had decided to be a mama's kid after hanging long enough at its father's heels.

Maybe he felt a bit betrayed, yes.

"Thank you, FRIDAY." Stephen could be polite if he wanted. "A pleasure, Doctor Strange."

And with that, the elevator closed and brought him to the second floor to face the mess he had made.

He only had sat one foot on the floor, and the distinct sound of metal rushing through the air reached his ears. Swallowing thickly, Stephen followed the artifact, now knowing where it had to rush in order to check on its favorite person, while the sorcerer dreaded to enter the gym, where YN clearly handled pointy and sharp objects.

Probably with a picture of your face pinned against the bull's eye.

A throwing knife hit the target with a dull sound at the moment Stephen entered the gym, and he could see that YN had already drawn the next one out of the holster at her thigh. She flipped it gracefully in her hand, without even sparing one glance at it. He couldn't tell if she looked particularly angry or just tired, but at the sight of her next throw, he knew that something was off - and he would bet the last bits of his former fortune that it had to do with him. But Cloaky cleared the field for now and saved him from being punctured as it wrapped itself around her shoulders and almost lovingly nuzzled itself against her cheeks.

YN turned to him, cocking an eyebrow and casually playing with the delicate knife between her skillful fingers. "Look who's man enough to show up," the Widow smirked while patting the red fabric around her shoulders. Stephen stepped in her direction but stopped abruptly as the former assassin swiftly spun around and threw the last knife. She was already turned back to face him as the weapon was still mid-air and Stephen stared in utmost wonder as it hit the bull's eye nonetheless.

"You wanted to say something, darling?"

Her sweet smile couldn't fool the sorcerer, and the blunt show of her skill was nothing that scared him because he was certain of one fact: They would both never hurt the other, not even in their furriest rage.

But this game could be played by two.

With a barely visual flick of his right hand, Stephen gained a hold of her body without touching her and pulled her the last couple of steps to him until their bodies stood pressed against each other in the room. He wrapped an arm around her waist and started to play with her braided hair with the other hand.

"I came to apologize."

YN lifted the other brow. Even though they were in a pretty healthy relationship, it didn't happen every week that Stephen Strange uttered those words or even the magical sentence I am sorry which automatically implied that he admitted he did something wrong. That's why she waited patiently, hands resting on his upper abdomen.

A sigh left him. “I only had your best intentions in mind, primarily because we never talked about how to approach the topic in front of the others, and I figured you would preferrer to crack it to them in a more… neutral environment than our bedroom.” She hummed in agreement but still waited. Stephen eyed her face and let go of her braid to cup her cheek softly. “I am sorry, darling,” he whispered now, and after a deep breath, YN nodded. “Okay. But don’t you dare do that ever again, especially if your mind isn’t fully focused because I don’t feel the need to hit the edge of my bed a second time. My back still hurts, you moron.” And with that, she raised one arm to hit the back of his head softly with an open palm, but it was enough to convey the message.

Instantly, a worried expression settled on his handsome face, and the hand resting on her lower back started to trace her spine underneath the red fabric of the cloak that now clumsily caressed her other cheek. Stephen put pressure on his touch, feeling every vertebra pressing unyieldingly against his fingertips, and Stephen observed her face almost painfully close. She didn’t move a muscle, but he witnessed the slight furrow of her forehead and brows as his fingertips reached the middle of her back, where her spine gently curved.

Right at the lumbar curve, between L2 and L3, he thought while his fingertips continued the pressure in various places. It’s probably the ligament between.

“Does it hurt when I release the pressure?” His question was softly spoken, and YN still looked up to him, eyeing his face attentively. She cocked her head from one side to the other. “Kind of? It’s probably just the bruise, nothing to worry about. But hey, now we know that the bed frame is exceptionally sturdy.” YN grinned up at him, but Stephen only shook his head before taking her hand in his. “We’re going to the med bay to check you out, right now,” he decided, and the sorcerer’s mind was made up.

When it came to her, he needed to be 100% sure that everything was okay.

But they didn’t come far. Instead, they stopped dead in their tracks as the couple faced Peter and Scott, both staring at them with wide eyes after they had processed the meaning of interlaced fingers. Peter started to grin while Scott’s expression didn’t resemble joy over the newly found love. YN knew that mischievous look in his eyes, the glimmer of a stupid idea developing in his mind. “Scott…,” the Widow spoke warningly, but this son of an ant chuckled before spinning around and starting to run. “I will revel in your embarrassment, YNN!” He shouted over his shoulder, but YN couldn’t let that happen. She stopped holding Stephen’s hand, and the sorcerer couldn’t utter a single word before his girlfriend bolted right after the other Avenger. “And I will revel in your screams filled with pain and agony after I broke your flat ass, Lang!” Her angry words traveled over the corridor, and now it was only Peter and Stephen facing each other.

The young man started to grin again after the confusion and surprise had vanished from his face. “I am really happy for-…” But Stephen only needed to shake his head to one side to let him fall silent again. “Don’t, Parker,” was all he said before following the path YN and Scott had taken, the young hero hot on his heels.

This was certainly not how he had thought everyone would find out about them, and he had already played with images of Scott dangling over a cliff or freezing his ass off at the foot of Mount Everest within his mind. It wasn’t himself who the sorcerer was concerned – he couldn’t give less shit on the other’s opinion about him. But he knew how much it meant to YN because this bunch of mostly idiots was her family. Not by blood but by choice, and Stephen had never intended to overshadow anything about that. Now he feared that everyone would give her a hard time and what that would mean for her mental health.

Stephen was nothing but an over-worryingly boyfriend.

With a sigh, he followed the sound of steps and canceled Peter’s voice out entirely because he couldn’t handle all these questions now or ever. He liked the kid, he was a decent human after all, but his rambling nature wasn’t something Stephen particularly enjoyed. Instead, he focused on the shouting and watched after rounding the last corner as the catastrophe unfolded in front of his eyes.

First-row seats for your own downfall, wonderful.

YN panted heavily while hanging on Scott’s back to try and hold his gossiping mouth shut, but he was too used to it with a daughter at home. So, the inevitable happened only seconds later.

“YNN and Harry Potter are a thing!”

Immediately, the entire living area was silent as a grave, every movement ceased, and every single pair of eyes turned to Scott and the other arriving parties.

YN slowly slid off his back and threw Ant-Man a death glare – she would definitely try and step on him during one of their next missions – but she swallowed thickly at the stares moving between her and a certain someone somewhere behind her. The Widow knew that Stephen was here because she could feel his body temperature in her back only a heartbeat later, before his hands settled on her shoulders, softly stroking them with his thumbs.

Nat was the first to speak. “Well, that’s a surprise.” Clint cocked an eyebrow and threw Peter an approving nod. “You were right. Good ears, kid.”

Stephen felt as if he could touch her boiling anxiety under his fingertips and bent down to press a tender kiss to her temple while Steve marched a few steps in their direction before stopping again. His eyes searched her face, tried to read her mind, and settled on the sorcerer to evaluate the situation. But he spoke to YN. “Is he treating you right?” The woman didn’t need to think for even a second. “Better than the Queen of England,” she answered without hesitation, and Steve could see the tender expression in her worrying eyes. So he gave one nod of approval and settled back into the armchair.

Tony, on the other hand, seemed not pleased at all. He marched to the couple and weaseled his way past YN to shove Stephen a few inches back. “First, you insult her at every given occasion, and then you have the audacity to fuck her and play happy family?! Is your ego this massive?!” The Widow had spun around the second he had reached Stephen and had touched him, but instead of relying on violence, she grasped his wrist in a soft hold. She urged him with a pull to turn to her, to look at her and not to Stephen, but her face wasn’t as sweet as her touch. The Stark could clearly see the burning fire behind those irises who once had looked up to him with a terrified expression, unsure of what to expect after being finally her own person and having her very own life.

“You know I love you like the brother I never had, Tons, but if you touch him again, I have to kick your ass, and not even your precious suits will safe you then.”

YN didn’t have to raise her voice to convey the meaning to everyone, but especially Tony, because the Stark swallowed dryly. He had never thought to once be on the other side of the situation – not standing next to her and listening with utmost joy and pride as she threatened others but being the target of said threat. It was an unpleasant feeling, and he didn’t want to imagine how unpleasant it must be to feel her full wrath.

Meanwhile, Stephen stood there, a tender expression settling on his face – an expression never seen before by the others which threw them almost off their feet – and a pleased smile on his lips. “That’s my girl,” he told no one in particular in a mumble. YN heard it, though, and started to smile before throwing Tony one last warning glare and leaving him to stand next to her sorcerer again. “To make it official,” she raised her voice and gestured to Stephen, who already had his arm wrapped around her waist again. “May I introduce you to my boyfriend of one and a half years, Stephen Strange?”

The team’s eyes almost popped out of their holes at the mention of how long this had been going on behind all their backs, and Sam chuckled. “Never accept missions again which require detective skills. We suck at it,” he stated the obvious, while Steve almost choked on his coffee. “And I once called her my best friend.” YN grinned at him and shrugged softly. “I know what a gossip you can be with the right people around you, so… sorry, sweets,” she apologized, and Steve looked at her with a tender expression nonetheless. “I’m just happy that you’re happy. It always was the one thing I wished for you to find.”

Looking up to Stephen, who battled Tony in a glaring contest, a small but loving smile tucked on her lips, she nodded before turning back to Steve, who seemed more than content at the view of his best friend. “I am, Stevie. I really am.” Those words almost got swallowed by Tony’s exaggerated scoff, but Steve had the advantage of super soldier hearing, so he only smiled and didn’t stop observing the new couple while Bucky settled next to him. “She still will be your best friend, punk. Don’t go all brotherly tears now because your baby sister is grown up and finds her own life,” he chuckled while patting his best friend’s shoulder.

Meanwhile, Tony stared YN dead in the eye. “If he ever hurts you, I will end him personally. He only has to raise his voice in front of you, and I’m on my way. If his ego tries some bullshit, give me a call.” And turned to Stephen, he told sternly: “She has my number saved in her favorites.”

YN rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and I can remove said number out of my favorites. Plus, he is on this list, too.” And with that, she pointed to Stephen right next to her. Tony scrunched up his face. “Urgh, then please, I beg you, put me off that list if he is on there.”

“You are an absolute ass without reason.”

“Born like that.”

“It’s a shitty character trait. Do I need to call Pepper?”

Now, Tony stared down at her challenging face and gulped. “No…?” He morphed the one syllable into a question before raising both hands in surrender. “Okay, fine. I approve of this relationship.” The sorcerer scoffed. “We don’t need your stamp of approval,” he clarified, and YN warningly rubbed over his back. “We only told you because YN considers all of you family and didn’t want to lose you. So, toughen up, Stark, and swallow the bitter pill so we can move on from here because this woman deserves a dinner in the comfort of our bed and some episodes of Golden Girls after this day.”

She couldn’t comprehend his words because suddenly, Nat stood in front of her and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. She wrapped both arms around the fellow Widow and felt the redhead’s lips pressing soft kisses over her head. They may be close in age, but YN had always been the little sister in this relationship. “Thank you for choosing us as your family, Солнышко 1,” (1: little sun) Nat spoke in the soft tone entirely reserved for her most favorite people. “Thank you for accepting me, сестра 2.” (2: sister)

Nat squeezed her shoulder before letting go of her, and the Widow turned back to Stephen, one brow raised. “You said something about Golden Girls?” The sorcerer showed his signature smirk, and while a portal started to open in his back, he grabbed YN around her hips and threw her over his shoulder. A squeal escaped the surprised woman, but a laugh followed close, and grinning, she waved the other Avengers while Stephen carried her over the threshold of the portal right into the foyer of the Sanctum.

“Don’t you dare call or text us in the next 48 hours, Stark!”

This was a wild ride, wow. pt. 2 is finally here! I hope you enjoyed reading it :3 I really loved writing those two parts. As usual: comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated!

Taglist:

@poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @seasonofthenerd @onecrazydirectioner @meeksmusic83 @harpywritesfic @strangeions @mischiefmanaged71 @apple-and-berry @ben-er-ino @multifandomrandomgirl @lucimorningst4r @dark-academics-and-florals @hunterofshadows04 @janora00 @lejuveinlegroove @ohchoices @jyessaminereads

[literate-lamb]

can I kiss you on the dancefloor?

Steve Rogers/Reader

One year into a relationship, yet still dancing in secrecy. Steve thinks he’s protecting you.

When a civilian and a hero fall in love, anything could go wrong. But not in the way Steve would have thought.

Or how the media play with the lives of superheroes.

►word count: 7.6k

► warnings(!): slight angst, alcohol

A/N: My gift to @blue-like-barnes for the Hoelentines Fic Exchange! I’m sorry it took some time, giftee. I didn’t expect this to turn into a monster (yikes). Thank you for hosting @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes ! Dividers from @firefly-graphics​ and GIF from Giphy

On his day-offs, Steve Rogers was a man full of disguises. 

When they first started, it was the baseball cap and thick-rimmed glasses. He liked it, it was simple, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone would notice. How could one not when his face was the one plastered in old war propaganda, in the museums commemorating his achievements, and even flashes on the telly when you walk past the local electronics store. 

Hence, it wasn’t a surprise when the tabloids posted a photo of him in his disguise, waiting at a crosswalk on a cold night. 

‘Captain America spotted on a midnight stroll’ came the next morning. It was taken after he was done walking you home, thankful they didn’t catch a glimpse of you.

“So capsicle, where were you off to last night?” Tony greeted him at breakfast, offending paper in hand. He unrolled it, opening and making a show of reading, displaying the front page for all seated to see. “Nice reading glasses, wasn’t aware you needed them.”

Striding into the room, Natasha came and snatched the tabloid. She gave it a critical eye, judging, before turning towards him. 

“Hmm, recycling disguises, Rogers? I’m disappointed.” 

Steve just groaned in reply.

The second time it happened, he had gone to the Black Widow herself for advice. He had expected sound advice coming from a former KGB spy who spent her paycheck on hair, but all he got was a stick-on mustache. Something about ‘needing to blend in rather than pointing the obvious’.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Steve, but at least it’s better than that nerd get-up,” she smirked.

You had liked it. Giggling every time he kissed you, the fibres tickling your lips. He had ‘a caterpillar’ on his upper lip as you called it. And Steve had learned to get used to the itch.

But it wasn’t long before his new look was the star in barbershops. 

‘Captain America’s new look takes the world by storm.’ They had caught him again in another paparazzi shot. Tony had teased him for days after.

He couldn’t shake it off easily, constantly reminded of it when he walked the streets. Seeing them on screens when he’s channel-surfing. Even when he’s training new recruits, his vision filled with a sea of unshaved cadets, their hairy upper lips a prominent fixture.

He knew he had to do something when Bucky and Sam came in one day sporting twin mustaches. 

He discarded the strip of fibre in the bin. Reminding to pay Natasha a visit.

The third time he decided, he seeked out the help of Scott Lang, who was a master in keeping out of sight during his burglary days. Scott had given him a black beanie and told him to grow out his facial hair. 

The beanie hid his golden locks and the beard made him look rugged. You loved it, your thighs quivered when it was him and you in the four walls of your room. Uncontrollable groans as he went down. ‘Beard burn’ you had called it. Whatever it was, he loved the sounds you let out.

Four months. That’s how long the disguise lasted. His longest disguise to date. 

Before he became a trend.

‘Captain America is the new style icon.’ The internet sleuths found out where he got it too. ‘The sale of Walmart beanies skyrocketed by 70% thanks to Captain America.’

Tony had bought everyone in the compound a black beanie for Christmas, including the receptionist.

“Our grandpa’s a trendsetter, who knew,” he announced. Steve had smacked the back of Tony’s head with the beanie before retiring the disguise.

Now, sitting in The Sleeping Cat, Steve had opted for aviators and a Nasa baseball cap. He still kept his beard after your pleads, and he liked the look, he admits. It was back to basics for him and this was one of the only places where he was safe from prying eyes. Afterall, it was in this very café where he had met you.

The Sleeping Cat was a quaint little thing, a hole in the wall in a quiet part of the city. Not many knew of its existence, the entrance obscure, a blink and you’ll miss it. Which made it all the more perfect for him. The baristas knew him and minded their own business, offering him a smile every time he visited. ‘You’re safe with us’ they seem to say. 

He could say the same about the patrons. Most that frequented were regulars like him, they seemed the same, looking for a place to get away from the overbearing world. They seemed to share an understanding, paying him no mind as if he was just another man they passed on the streets. And that’s how he preferred it. 

Just a boy from Brooklyn.

Ding!

The chime of the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Facing the door, he saw you, smiling as you came through.

This was the best part of his days. 

You had met Steve Rogers at the most unexpected of times.

Terminated from your previous job at a small gallery, dumped by an ex-boyfriend after a 2 year relationship, you were at an utmost low. To escape your roommates —in case of pitying or prying, but if you were honest with yourself, it was to escape your own humiliation— you left the apartment on weekdays under the guise of going to work. In reality, you were at The Sleeping Cat applying for jobs on your laptop.

It was during one of the afternoon hours when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning to your left, you were greeted by a pair of startling blues. They were bright but worn as if they’ve seen too many. Looking at the bigger picture, you took him in. Hair hidden under a cap, a sharp jaw and an equally sharp nose, and if you looked closely, you thought you could spot a few moles on his cheeks. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t put a finger to it.

Eyes fleeting to his lips, you realized he was actually talking.

“Huh?” 

“I was wondering if this seat’s taken?” He smiled, gesturing towards the empty seat opposite. He was clearly amused.

“Yeah, sure, sure,” you nodded, making room for his things. 

The following days, it became a routine and an arrangement. You would be at the café as early as the owner would allow, laptop in hand. While he would come in the afternoons in a different jacket each day, a sketchbook in hand. You would be propped up, sending application after application, praying for luck. While he would quietly sit, churning sketch after sketch, in a relaxed demeanour. 

Sometimes you would peek over your screen and watch him draw for a few minutes, lost in his strokes. When you look up, you’ll find his eyes locked with yours, and you’ll immediately reimmerse yourself behind the screen, embarrassed.

It was a comfortable routine. You came to expect him everyday. And on the days that he didn’t make it, you felt a bit forlorn looking at the empty seat. You both didn’t talk much, yet you were getting comfortable in his presence.

Until one day, he broke the silence.

“So, what is it that you do?”

You stared, dumbfounded. Looking around there wasn’t anyone nearby. 

“Were you talking to me?” you asked.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “It’s just that you’re always on your computer…” he trailed off.

“I’m an assistant curator at an art gallery— or, er, used to be,” you explained. “Long story short, I lost my job and now I’m looking for a new one, that’s why I’m here.”

He seemed to ruminate before replying, “So you know a thing or two about art?”

You both started a new routine; one with a lot of communicating. He would ask you about your mundane weekends and interests and in turn, you would ask about his. Except, he was anything but mundane. 

On the days he was absent, you learned Steve was away on a lot of ‘business trips’. When he returned, he had never failed to present you with a souvenir. From matryoshkas to sarongs, it was always a surprise accompanied by a tale.

“The pattern on the sarong is called a batik, and it’s amazing how they’re drawn using wax like a liquid crayon. It’s an interesting art form.”

Outside of your little routine, he was an enigma. You barely knew about the Steve outside of The Sleeping Cat. Sometimes he threw the names ‘Bucky’ and ‘Sam’ a lot —out of exhaustion— without giving away anything, remaining tight-lipped. While his mysteriousness should’ve been a cause of concern, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards him, wanting to peel more of his layers, like the shell of a matryoshka. 

The routine went on for a few more weeks, with calls of interviews and business trips in between. Before you received a phone call.

“I got a job! At the Whitney!” you squealed, shaking his shoulders over the table, oblivious to the other patrons. Steve endured it, smiling. 

“Congratulations,” he said when you’ve calmed down. “I guess this is the last time I’ll be seeing you?”

You froze, high coming down, realization settling in. After a few weeks of secret meetings, of getting to know him, of having lunch together, of sharing laughs, you’ve come to see Steve as a good friend. And maybe, there was the birth of something more.

“Let’s exchange numbers,” you said, opening your phone. “This way, maybe we can hang out again. Have lunch sometimes?”

“I’d like that.” He smiled. 

And the rest was history.

Making your way towards The Sleeping Cat, you amused yourself with past memories. Memories from almost over a year ago. 

Steve had come to give a speech at the opening ceremony of an exhibition at the Whitney. Your first exhibition as a curator. An exhibition on art from the war times. When they had announced his title, a loud ‘oh’ was the only thing you could muster. 

The ‘ding’ of the bell resounded, announcing your arrival. Heading in, you saw a head perked up, beaming, baseball cap securing his golden locks and aviators hiding his mesmerizing blues.

This was the best part of your days.

But maybe, you were getting a little tired.

If someone were to ask you months ago if you were happy and content with your relationship, you would’ve replied with a swift yes in a heartbeat. No hesitation, no reservations, no doubt. Now, sitting in the same cafe, the same one you frequent on dates, the same one you both met in, you weren’t sure of the answer anymore.

As Steve gets up to order for you both, your eyes wander to his sketchpad. It was filled with sketches of random objects; the flower on the table, the pastries on display, sometimes the patrons of the cafe, and occasionally, you. 

“You’re my favourite subject, so far.”

It was not for the lack of love or the lack of affection. Steve was the most loving; loyal in so many ways, gentle when asked, and protective to a fault. Maybe the protectiveness was the cause of it all.

Staring at Steve’s back, your mind shifted to a memory from the past week, when your roommate pulled you aside from a get-together at the ice rink.

“Hey,” she called your name, taking a hold of your elbow. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure, what’s up?” you followed her, leading you to the sides.

Her eyes conveyed her worry. It amplified with the chewing of her bottom lip, a nervous tick.

“Are you and Steve… okay?” she asked, her brows perked. “I’m not sure if you notice, but today, it’s full of couples.” 

You looked towards your group of friends. There was your roommate’s girlfriend tying her skates, your other roommate and her boyfriend talking to another couple —their friends— and they were all holding their significant other’s hand. Oh.

“I don’t want to throw you out of the loop, but there would probably be a lot of double skating involved today,” she said, widening her eyes, looking comical. “Do you want me to talk to Steve? Maybe I could convince him to come, y’know?” 

Out of your two roommates, she was the only one who knew of your paramour. Having walked in on you and Steve making out on the couch. She was sworn into secrecy, with the promise of autographs from all the Avengers. 

“Look, it’s okay,” you assured her. “I can handle skating alone, and you know why he can’t really come here with us,” you shrugged.

“Okay, but aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around? Don’t you want to shout to the whole world ‘I’m fucking Captain America!’” she flailed.

You shushed her, muffling her mouth with your gloved hand.

Part of the secret was how Steven Rogers was an engineered superhero. A superhero with many enemies, leading him to fear for his loved ones, and that included you.

You went into the relationship whole-heartedly knowing the challenges; discreet rendezvous, kisses in the dark, minimal contact in public. You were his secret and he was yours. It was for your own good, wasn’t it?

“What’s got your little head wrapped up?” Steve’s voice startled you, bringing you back to the café. On the table, two cups of coffee and a slice of cake was served.

“Hmm? Oh, just thinking about this party the museum’s throwing this weekend,” you took your cup, blowing, contemplating your next words.“Say, how about you and I, I don’t know, go as dates?”

Steve crunched his brows. “You know that’s a hard thing for me to do, especially with your colleagues around.”

“I know! But maybe… maybe, you can go in one of your disguises this time? Remember that one time we went to Central Park?”

Steve exhaled, he remembered that afternoon. It was the one-off that you both ventured on a date in the outdoors. 

Decked in his beanie, casually strolling through Central Park with you beside him. Although he was still wary, keeping his hands in his pockets, fighting the urge to hold your hand. 

No one had recognized him; not the ice-cream man, not the kids running around, not the mothers pushing strollers. No one. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You leaned forward, pecking him on the lips multiple times. “Thank you!”

“You sure this looks convincing?”

“Trust me, punk. Grade A assassin here, thank you very much,” Bucky boasted while fixing the wig on his scalp, untangling the unruly strands.

Steve had sought Bucky for help, with the belief that assassins were good at hiding in plain sight (and maybe, he just didn’t want to go to Natasha twice). Bucky was also his most trusted confidant and he knew about you, Steve trusted him not to tell. But now looking at himself in the opposite mirror, he wasn’t so sure of that anymore. 

Long dangly tresses hung on the sides of his face parting in the middle, a trimmed beard leaving a bit of goatee, and to finish it off, Bucky dressed him in a checkered shirt consisting of random coloured squares. He looked like he just stepped out of the 60’s.

“Oh, wear these,” Bucky handed him a pair of large wire-framed glasses. “Done.”

Steve took a look in the mirror. A seedy pimp was the first thought that crossed his mind.

“Thanks Buck, I owe you one.”

“Sure Stevie, just bring me around next time on one of your dates, I’d like to meet her,” Bucky winked. “Or make it double.” He wagged his brows. “Like old times.”

Steve snorted.

“Okay, I got—“ Steve’s words halted when an alarm blared overhead. It demanded their attention.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, your presence is required in Prep Room six,” called the disembodied voice. “There’s been a breach of extraterrestrial energy in the airspace of Sweden.”

Steve exited and rushed through the hallways, Bucky following close behind. He made it through the living quarters, trudging to the training wing before entering one of the many prep rooms. 

“Nice costume, Cap. Halloween already?” Sam quipped. Almost everyone was present, they were equally amused.

Before anyone else could follow, Tony strided in immediately, grumbling. “Okay team, there’s been an E.T synthezoid putting holes in the ozone layer. I’ll fill you all in the quinjet. Suit up and meet me at the hangover in 10.”

Everybody gathered their equipment and hurried to leave, passing by him. Before Tony could, he took notice of Steve and did a double take. And then a third. 

“What’s with the pimp daddy get-up, Capsicle?” 

Steve huffed, ignoring the jab. “I have something that I need to attend. How important am I in this, Tony?”

“We need all hands on deck. We don’t really know what we’re up against, Fury’s still running recon,” Tony explained, squaring his shoulders. “Whatever it is you have, Cap. It can wait. Lives are at stake here.” With that, he left, not standing by for a response.

“Darn it,” Steve cursed, removing the glasses and the wig.

He left the prep room with his shield in hand. With one hand, he shot a text to you. He’ll make it up next time.

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Emergency mission

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Can’t make it, sorry

You switched the screen off, sighing. Around you, the party was in full swing. Invitees mingling with refreshments in hand, discussing the pieces on display tonight, and bidding on the pieces they find exquisite. Hors d’oeuvres and champagne were being served, brought around by servers on silver platters. You’ve been munching on them non-stop, grabbing one every time a server comes your way, needing something to occupy you.

Surrounding you, you’d see the occasional couple walking around, enjoying their time. The palms of their hands locked in each other’s as they navigate together, rarely straying afar. 

You clenched your hand, reminded of how empty it felt. 

It was inevitable, you were warned of this, you were told to expect this. Dating a superhero meant that he was never solely yours. You were sharing your boyfriend with someone, except that someone was the world. 

“Hiiii!” a shrill voice broke your thought, calling you by name. A blonde woman, followed by a brunette emerged from the gathering of art-goers, headed towards you. “It’s been a long while!”

“Hey! Yeah, it’s been awhile,” you waved, recognizing the two. 

When they reached you, you were aware of the slight tension in the air, leaving the three of you standing awkwardly. After all, these two were your ex-colleagues and you didn’t exactly leave the previous gallery on good terms. Tonight was a night with masks, it seemed.

“So, how are you two doing?” you decided to get it over with.

“We’re fine, everyone’s fine! But how are you? We heard you worked here now, pretty impressive,” the brunette —Claire— winked at you. You laughed.

“Yeah, it’s so nice seeing you again, and at the Whitney? The pay must be good, you know what I’m saying?” Hilda chimed, knocking her elbows with yours. You didn’t appreciate it but you endured.

 “Say, what are you doing over here far away? Why not you join us over there,” Hilda pointed, towards a mounted canvas at the end of the hall. It was occupied by two men in a discussion among themselves. “Chat a bit to catch up, a bit of art philosophical debate in between. What do you say?”

You contemplated her offer, not wanting to seem pretentious, but thought about the false flattery and ego-stroking that would sure ensue in their company. The thought of it drained you.

“It’s okay,” you waved them off nervously. “I have to call my boyfriend sooner, gotta check up on him and let him know I’m... alright.” You held up your phone, playing on convincing.

“Oh? He isn’t here tonight?” Claire seemed to feign worry. 

“No, he got caught up with something. He’s a busy man,” you cooked up an excuse. No one could know. 

“Okay… In that case, we’ll leave you to it. Maybe we’ll bump into each other sooner.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys soon.”

They waved before backing away into the mass of patrons. You let out a breath you didn’t know you held in. 

While the interaction was unexpected, this was what you had to deal with when it came to the question of your relationship. The excuses, they became second nature to you. The lies. The deceit. Anything to protect Steve’s identity, and inadvertently, you.

Throughout the night, you mingled with any clients interested in a work of art, all the while stepping out of Hilda and Claire’s line of sight. You didn’t wish a repeat of the earlier evening.

When the crowd started dwindling, signalling the end of the night, you were relieved of your duties. You headed straight for the restrooms after, one getaway before leaving. You huddled yourself in a cubicle, locking it shut.

Seconds in, you heard the creak of the restroom door followed by the clicks of heels.

“Can you believe it? Someone like that got the chance of working here.” 

You recognized the nasally tone. It was Claire. 

“Yeah? Not like she deserves it. I mean look at her? Demure, slow. It’s like talking to a mouse. I bet she’s a prude too.” That was Hilda.

The gushing of the faucet muffled their voices, but their sharp words were clear as day, your ear catching every snark and hiss.

“And when she was talking about her boyfriend? He probably doesn’t even exist, it was just to get off our backs,” Hilda paused. “Last time I heard, her boyfriend dumped her. So, I guess she’s creating imaginary ones now.” 

They both cackled.

By now, you knew they were talking about you. Their words didn’t hurt as much, you knew the colour of their hearts beneath the masks. But was that how people viewed your hidden relationship? A facade? A farce?

Once the door clicked shut, and the tapping of their heels faded, you left the restroom, heart feeling heavier.

(y/n) [6:45 PM]: stay safe stevie ! remember to hydrate

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: punch those meanies

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: (`⌒*)⍟-(`⌒´Q)

Steve chuckled when he turned on his phone, amused at your texts. You always sent him good luck messages every time he went off for missions. Although he didn’t seem to get the emoticons that you sent, even after being taught by Peter Parker. He just didn’t get them.

Steve dialed your number, sitting on the edge of the bed as he dried his washed hair. Beeps ringed before you picked up, your smooth lilt permeating the speakers. 

“Hello? Stevie?”

Steve smiled, missing the caress of your voice after a day filled with explosions and cries.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted. “How’s my girl been?”

“Great, now that you called,” you teased. “But are ‘you’ fine?” you emphasized.

On the other end of the line, you mirrored his position, sitting on one corner of the bed. Picking the newspaper in your lap, you observed the front page: ‘Avengers saves the Arctic!’ 

“Same old, same old,” his voice carries. “Listen, about yesterday—“

“It’s okay,” you interrupted him, other hand gripping the newspaper. “You have to protect the Earth and that also means me. You don’t have to apologize, I knew what I signed up for.” 

Did you? Or was it now a hollow statement to convince yourself?

“I still want to make up for it, my girl deserves that much,” he responded.

You slowly unclenched the paper. It left Steve’s form crinkled.

“If you want to sooo bad,” you exaggerated. “There’s a Valentines charity ball for our arts program in three weeks time. You think you could make it this time?”

“You know no promises, but I plan to, even if I have to do everyone’s laundry for a week.” You heard rustling on the other line. “What’s the exact date? I’ll put it on my calendar.” 

“The 16th.” Scratchy scribbling filled your ear, the sound loud in the silence. 

“Done. Can’t wait to see you all dolled up, sweetheart.”

“Me too, baby,” you said. “At least put on a nice moustache this time.”

He laughed. Your heart felt lighter. To him, it was probably nothing, but to you, it was a form of reassurance. A reassurance that what you had was real.

“Steve, you got a moment?”

The aforementioned man turned around, taking a glance over his shoulder. Sharon Carter slowed to a stop, a small smile on her face. As always, she carried an air of superiority, matching that of Steve’s wavelength. Yet today, it seemed dim.

“I think we need to talk, you have time for coffee?”

Glancing at his watch, he nodded. “Sure, Sharon. Lead the way.”

She took them outside of S.H.I.E.L.D and into the chilly air of DC, navigating through streets and crowds while huddling in their coats. They chatted, breaths puffing as they caught up, the familiar scenes passing by.

He hadn’t been in DC in awhile, it felt good to be back. 

“We’re here.”

Sharon headed in first, holding the door for him. He thanked her. They ordered and got seated. A smile was shared, strained as it seemed. 

“Better just rip the band-aid off,” Sharon sighed. “I miss us.” 

“Sharon—“

“Please, hear me out first,” she insisted, showing her palm. “We probably shouldn’t have done what we’ve done after Aunt Peggy’s funeral. I just lost someone I looked up to the most, and you lost the woman that you loved. We were both grieving. It wasn’t fair to the both of us.”

“While I do miss us, I know that it wasn’t meant to be,” she continued, shooting a sombre smile. “I understand that now. I guess, what I wanted was closure.”

Her hand quivered on the table between them. Steve clasped his over hers, offering to soothe.

“I don’t regret what happened in Germany. While yes, it should have not happened, it was what we thought we needed at that time. We both lost someone we held dear,” Steve explained, hoping his words reached her. “None of it was a mistake, Sharon. You’re still someone I trust and hold dear, remember that.”

Steve clutched her hand tighter, running his thumb over her knuckles in circular motions, attempting to calm and show understanding.

In his efforts, unknown to the two, the shutter of a camera went off across the street.

Something felt off. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. At first, you thought it was your own anxious mind running. 

You woke up late on a work day, burned your eggs and toast, accidentally wore unmatching socks, and your roommate was acting weird. All jittery when you entered the hall, stammering her words, and performing this bizarre dance when you walked past the living room. You gave her no mind when you passed the threshold and slammed the door, phone gripped in hand.

Loverboy [6:00 AM]: Good morning, dear 

Loverboy [6:01 AM]: [image]

A photo of Steve, sweaty after a run showed on the screen. He was smiling, shirt stained and clinging to his chest. You had taught him how to take selfies.

You [7:20 AM]: morning, handsome

You [7:20 AM]: 😍😍😍 

The morning texts were the best part of your morning commute. It made the arduous and packed journey worthwhile. Even when you almost tripped at the doors, it couldn’t take away your joy.

You made it just in time and clocked in, meeting clients and discussions with artists throughout the day. It was uneventful, although the bad luck seemed to have followed when you spilled your coffee on the concrete.

It was when you left the museum that your day took a turn for the worst.

On the ride home, the man opposite you was reading a newspaper. Nothing unusual, but at a glance, you thought you saw a familiar face printed on the corner. Before you could take a closer look, the man folded it in half and got off.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your stop, exiting the station with the fast-paced crowd. That’s when you were bombarded.

Lining the streets, your vision was filled with the scattering of a crowd of papers. Every face you saw was plastered in them.

‘The Good Captain In Love?’

‘A Superhero & A Civilian Romance?’ 

‘Captain America’s Girl? Mysterious Woman Sighted’

The sight of them left you in a panic, your anxiety spiking through the roof. Your world started spinning, everything —buildings, trees, faces— blending altogether. Everywhere your eyes deflected, a headline invaded your sight, imprinting itself on your retinas. Had they found out?

Composing yourself, you headed towards the nearest news stall, mind boggled with too many questions and not enough answers. How? Why? When?

Only, it wasn’t your face they were publishing.

‘“Oh Captain, My Captain” America in love? Spotted last week in DC was Captain Steven Rogers with a mysterious lady. They seemed to be cozy with each other, an eyewitness told Us Weekly. Story on Page 11.’

The photograph showcased Steve with a blonde woman, sitting in a café with their hands clasped on the table. Your heart shattered at the sight, remembering how empty yours have felt lately. 

Was he purposely out with this woman in public? What did that mean for you? Why were you shadowed?

“Are you and Steve… okay?”

“She’s creating imaginary ones now.”

“Aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around?”

“You know that’s a hard thing for me to do.”

“Hey lady, you gonna pay for that?”

You were shaken out of your stupor. Looking down, you were clutching the magazine too hard, ripping the image of Steve and the woman in half, right in the middle where their hands met.

You apologized to the man and paid for the magazine. Immediately discarding it in the next trash bin you saw.

“So… you and Sharon?” Sam had asked him after training.

“What?” 

“You, and, Sharon,” Sam emphasized, pronouncing each syllable. “Are together. Man, when were you gonna tell me? I thought it was over.”

Steve froze before replying, “Because it is. A long time ago.”

“Well, this seems to say otherwise.” 

Sam showed him his phone, the screen displaying an article; ‘Captain America’s Girl Revealed. A Family Affair That Transcends Time.’ On top of the article was a photo of him and Sharon at the cafe in DC, his hand atop of hers on the table. A zoomed in version of their hands were provided, fueling the tabloid’s narrative.

Steve paled at the sight. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was his fears manifested; his anonymity taken, his privacy invaded, but his worst fear was putting his loved ones in danger. And if it was due to their association with him, it would leave him racked with guilt. 

While the tabloids were wrong, he knew that Sharon could defend for herself. You on the other hand… 

His heart rate rose, a new wave of anxiety spiked. Steve wondered if you’ve seen this. No, you must’ve seen this. 

Fishing for his phone, with clammy hands, Steve quickly dialed your number, anxiously waiting for the beeping to end. 

‘The number you’ve dialed is not—‘

“Damn it!”

His outburst surprised Sam, shocking him. Sam gave him a look, inquisitive. 

“Sorry Sam, I have to run.” 

He left, heart in his throat.

When Steve arrived at your apartment, he was almost out of breath. He was still anxious, the ride here not doing much to his addled mind. But he was determined.

Rapidly knocking on your front door, Steve composed himself. When it opened, he was met with the sight of your roommate -- the one that he has never met before.

“Ca-Captain America?” she yelped, shocked to see him on the doorstep.

“Is your roommate in?” he steeled.

“Which one—” 

“Steve,” a voice interrupted.

The door pulled further, widening the entrance. Steve was met with your familiar roommate. She was tense, arms locked across her chest, eyes full of fury. Steve detected something else in them; worry.

“You fucked up,” she said. He winced.

“I know,” he admitted. “And I’m here to make things right. Can I please see her?”

She sighed, stepping in, nodding towards your room. 

Steve hastily walked in, stopping in front of your door. He knocked thrice, signalling you, before turning the knob. It was unlocked. The room was dark when he entered, every source of light switched off, except for your curtains. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed was you, figure illuminated by the street lights against pitch black darkness. When he stepped in closer, you looked up, eyes meeting his. 

Steve turned on the lights and closed the door. He took a good look at you; hair frazzled, eyes bloodshot and dry, nose red. You were the image of heartbreak.

“Are you ashamed of me?” you asked, eyes locked with his. 

“What? No, I—“

“Is it because I’m not strong?” you cut him off. “I know she’s Peggy’s niece… a-and I know how much you loved her. She was your first love.”

“She and I, it’s all in the past. She moved on and lived her life, and I… did too.”

“But did you really, Steve? Move on?” you whispered, getting up. You stood in front of him. Steve could see how puffed your eyes were from crying. “Or was I just… a rebound?”

“No. No, you were never a rebound,” he took hold of your forearms. “I care for you, too much.”

“Then why?!” you shrieked, shocking Steve. “Why the secrets? Why the hiding? Steve, you’ve never even introduced me to your friends. Shouldn’t they know?”

“I wanted to protect you!”

“Protect me from what?!” you roared, eyes full of fury. “The Avengers? If they knew about me, they would protect me. Don’t you think so?”

Steve had no words to that, his mind a jumbled mess.

“I’m… beginning to think that you’re embarrassed with me,” you sighed. “We’ve never been on a date publicly, as each other. We’ve never held hands in public. I want you to meet my friends. I want to introduce you to them, and maybe soon, I want you to meet my family.”

“B-but, I’m tired, Steve. Tired of all the hiding. Of all the sneaking around. I want to tell the world that I’m in love with Steve Rogers, not Captain America,” you sighed, shedding a few tears.

You waited for his reply, only to be disappointed. 

“You know I can’t do that.”

You saw red. All you saw was red. 

You started pushing him, swatting him in the chest. Steve didn’t fight back, letting you unleash your anger, your disappointment. He took your hits, letting you release your pent up emotions. He began backing away when you started advancing, back against the door.

“Get out! Get out!” you screeched, pushing him.

When he unlocked the door and crossed, you immediately shut the door in his face. Steve heard sobbing from inside, his heart shattering at the sounds. 

“This way, Captain,” your roommate approached him, showing him to the door.

Steve relented, shame flooding him. He fucked up.

You stopped visiting The Sleeping Cat, wanting to avoid him at all costs. You blocked his number. You immersed yourself in your work, prepping for the upcoming charity gala. 

Sometimes you find yourself thinking about him when sleep proved to be difficult. It’s when you’re laying at night that you missed him the most.

But it was for the best, you reasoned. For you and him.

The Avengers PR had pushed for a fix-it, publishing a story that spoke a truth. ‘Just Friends: Romantic Allegations Proved False’. Steve had hoped you’d seen it. 

He called you every day but found himself blocked from everything. He still tried, hoping you’d come around one day. He came by The Sleeping Cat every other day, sitting in the same spot, hoping to catch you. 

But you never came.

You clasped the necklace in place, admiring how it sat on your clavicle through the mirror. You took a step back and took yourself in, smiling at what you saw. It didn’t reach your eyes.

Today was the day of the Valentines gala and you weren’t feeling particularly giddy about it. 

Opening your phone, you stared at the one contact that stood out, finger hovering over his name. That name used to give you so many feelings, but today it was a reminder that you were going alone, again.

Sighing, you threw it in your purse and left. Another lonely night, and on an even celebrating love.

Days turned into weeks, and soon, before he knew it, the day of your Valentines gala arrived. 

Steve stared at the calendar. The heart-shaped doodle he drew called out to him, reminding him of fond memories. Fond memories that seemed like a distant dream. But then, he went back to last week, and it all came crashing.

He had hurt you. While thinking he was protecting you, he hadn’t realized he was inadvertently pushing you away. He had no one to blame but himself. 

He loved you. No, still loves you. You grounded him, gave him the normalcy that he craved. Reminded him of a distant time before he was Captain America. 

You made him feel like the boy from Brooklyn again.

While he was ruminating in his feelings, Steve was caught off-guard when the door burst open with Tony Stark coming through. From his peripheral, he could see Bucky and Sam peeking through the frame.

“Heard from the Manchurian Candidate that someone has a case of the achy breaky heart,” Tony said, smug.

“Leave me alone, Tony. I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled, setting down the calendar. 

“And leave you wallowing like shit while your girl is out there probably equally miserable? I know a thing or two about women, Rogers, and it’s that they don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Tony snapped his fingers and from behind, Sam came in with a tuxedo in hand.

“Thought you might need this,” Sam said. 

Bucky came out behind him, with a brush and can of hairspray. “And I still know how to do hair.”

“And I have friends in places,” Tony quipped. “I can get you in.”

Steve was surprised. His friends had surprised him. You would’ve loved them. He was left speechless.

“What are you waiting for, Cap? Suit up.” Tony winked.

Swirling the glass of rosé, your gaze fell towards the dance floor. An upbeat song was being played as people flocked near the middle, letting their bodies take charge for the night. You saw your former co-workers among the throng, hands thrown around their significant others, having the time of their lives.

The gala was in full swing, if the crowd and chatter was any indication. Red and roses were the main theme, with a red carpet stretching from the grand staircase towards the main hall and roses lining every corner and wall. Taking it all in, you were proud to see your ideas visualized and work came to fruition.

You sipped your rosé, enjoying every bit of the gala as you could. From the sidelines, you spoke with a few potential clients and art collectors. Their presence made you feel your importance, and if you dared say it, a little less lonely.

It was during one of your little chats that you didn’t realize when the hall suddenly fell quiet. You turned around when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi folks, mind if I crash your party?”

Steve smiled at Tony’s antics. They both had arrived at the gallery dressed in their best, and with Tony’s connections, they were granted access. 

Stepping down the grand staircase, Steve felt all eyes on him. He paid them no mind, the thought of you the only occupant of his racing mind. Gazing over the crowd, Steve spotted you to the side, occupied in a chatter. 

Taking deliberate steps, Steve soon found himself behind you. He admired your gown and hair, it entranced him. You still hadn’t registered his presence, even when your partner had ceased chatting and was now staring at him.

With a tap on your shoulder, he was taken away as immediately as you spun around. Steve took in your whole image; your dolled-up face, your intricate dress, your styled hair. It left him floored.

You always did manage to take his breath away. Was this what he had been missing out all this time?

Taking your unoccupied hand, Steve pressed a small kiss before meeting your eyes. 

“May I have this dance?”

Giving away your drink, you took his hand as he pulled your towards the centre, taking space among the crowd. A slow number started, and before you realized, you were swept in a slow dance. It didn’t take long before you felt the sensation of his two left feet.

“Sorry, a hundred years and you’d think I’d know how to dance,” he said.

A small smile lightened your face. Steve savoured it all he could. Gulping, he took the first step.

“I’m... sorry for what I’ve done. I realize now that you were right,” he started. “I thought I was protecting you, but now I see that all it did was push you away. You have all the rights to be mad at me. I was being an idiot, a selfish one. I didn’t think about how you felt about it.”

You winced. Steve had stepped on your toes again. He murmured an apology, resorting to swaying instead.

“Can we start again? No more hiding. No more disguises,” he breathed, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “ We can meet your friends, you can meet mine. Bucky’s been pestering me to bring you to the compound, he wants to meet you.”

You laughed. How Steve had missed the tune.

“How can I make it up to you? How do you want to take the first step? A picnic at Central Park? Dinner at the compound? A trip to the beach?”

You seemed to contemplate, a thoughtful look on your face. You both failed to realize all the eyes on you two.

“How about now?”

“Right here? Right now?” he asked.

“Yes, right here, right now,” you said, determined.

Without hesitation —no more— Steve dived in, planting a kiss on your wine-coloured lips for the whole world to see. Your first kiss in public, yet it felt as if it was only the two of you there, lost in the moment. 

You both didn’t notice the gasping crowd nor the clicks of cameras from photographers nor the booming laughter of Tony Stark. You both only felt the other in your orbit, and that was all that mattered.

“Can you put that down? You’ve been staring at it for the past hour.”

You pouted, setting the frame on the side table, where it has been designated since its publication. 

“I can’t help it, I think it’s a good shot. Don’t you think so, Alpine?” you petted the snowy white cat lazing on the arm of the sofa. Its’ purrs intensified.

“Dinner’s ready!” Bucky shouted.

You and Steve left the room, joining the others in the dining room for dinner. On the side table, the framed article sat neatly, showcasing the tale of the famed occurrence that took place at a charity gala.

‘America’s Girl: The Modern Woman of The Captain’s Dreams.’

Fin.

[nzvalley]

Rewatching some Star Trek: Enterprise

It’s been a long time since I have done one of these posts. What I kind of expected to happen did happen: once I hit season 3 and saw the network meddling, Trip/T’Pol, and the radical shift in tone of the series, it was hard to keep going. But I’m hoping to power through this season, and get to the much improved fourth season.

Just to remind anyone who is here for the first time. I’m doing a rewatch/analysis around the Archer/T’Pol friendship/partnership/relationship, based on my favorite episodes. I will be focusing on them, because that’s the aspect of the show in which I’m more interested.

Catch up on my previous rewatch posts here!

There will also be spoilers, not just for this episode but for the whole show.

Twilight (3x08)

Even though this is easily the shippiest episode for Archer/T’Pol, this isn’t one I automatically turn on when I’m doing a rewatch.

In part, it’s just too sad to rewatch frequently. Partly because it gets total forgotten with no impact on canon. It’s also just an annoying reminder of when the show and these characters were in a much better place.

However, it’s a really great episode overall and for Archer/T’Pol. It reminds the audience of how devoted T’Pol is to Archer specifically, calling back to T’Pol’s speech to Archer before following him into the Expanse. It feels out of place to the rest of the season, like it could have been written before the network mandates.

Just next episode (“Similitude”) we get a T/T’P plot that is equally a standout episode, but which is fully in everybody’s memories and has lasting impacts on the season. This contrast illustrates the suddenly differing priorities of this season.

Up until now, it’s worth reminding, the backbone of the show was how the relationship between Archer and T’Pol (and Shran!) shaped the formation of the Federation. But even in the worst of times, there seems to be a contingent in the writers room who still felt as strongly about Archer/T’Pol as they did in the first two seasons.

The start hooks you in immediately, with Archer’s confusion mirroring our own. Archer stumbles (shirtless!) into Captain T’Pol’s bridge. Seeing T’Pol commanding in her own right is so cool.

After the frantic and engaging teaser, we get a massive time jump. A gray-haired Archer wakes and makes his way through a home he doesn’t remember. He finds a devoted… caretaker… whose effort he can’t fully appreciate yet.

The altered dynamic immediately apparent between Archer and T’Pol, and the obvious changes in her look and demeanor, set the tone for the rest of the episode. Jolene Blalock is amazing as usual. She can play any version of T’Pol. There are great performances throughout, especially by Jolene and Scott.

Pretty much everything in this episode, barring the initial crisis itself and T’Pol’s accident, aren’t canon. As far as I can tell, not even the main two remember the alternate timeline, except maybe on an unconscious level. It’s one of those stories that gets completely stricken from the record, which is why it’s hard to fully appreciate.

Archer saving T’Pol at his own expense reminds the audience of how much he cares. Although it gets erased T’Pol repays that sacrifice in turn, devoting her life to his care.

Phlox’s dedication to finding a cure for Archer, and his overall concern, is another aspect of this episode that’s awesome. For me, the trio of Arhcer/T’Pol/Phlox was always the most interesting.

This episode shows one nearly concrete future where the Xindi win, showing how fragile the mission remains. The slow reveal of how complete the Xindi victory was, and the fragility of their settlement, is nice. This storyline was ahead of its time. Just a few years later BSG told a similar story, though much better and in a much-expanded manner.

Jolene does a good job, but has to explain so much story in so little time. This story seems like it should have been given more time to breathe, like it should’ve played out over 3 or 4 episodes. At least one more!’

T’Pol and Soval always have great scenes.

T’Pol: I won’t leave them. Soval: Them? Or Him?

T’Pol reiterates her choice of Archer and the humans over her own species, much as she did when initially choosing to join the mission to the Expanse.

T’Pol reveals she knows Archer’s deepest secrets now, even the proposal that was rejected because Margaret Mullen didn’t want to become a Starfleet widow. Has T’Pol made herself into a kind of Starfleet widow?

“Our relationship has… evolved over the years.”

Future Phlox is looking sharp. T’Pol’s hope about the treatment shines through.

Captain Tucker! Malcolm’s goatee!

Given the seeming romantic bias of the writer, it’s not all that surprising Trip/T’Pol sours pretty quickly in this timeline. Not only did T’pol and Trip’s dalliance fall apart, but they have seemingly stayed apart for years. T’Pol and her concern continues to follow Archer.

I may have missed similar instances before, but T’Pol’s casual, intimate, comforting touch in private is so cute. And a great visual indicator of how much T’Pol has grown. Archer seems on the verge of broaching the topic of the intimacy when he starts, “If this works…”

T’Pol once again turns down a chance to leave Archer’s side, even after he has seemingly healed.

Phlox: I understand I may have a passenger on my voyage home T’Pol: I’m remaining at the settlement for the time being. He may need my help during his recovery. Phlox: Have you told the Captain how you feel about him? It’s obvious you’ve become quite attached.

The blitz of exposition from Phlox and T’Pol to Trip about changing the past… there’s just so much going on in this episode. This story needed at least one more episode… Or maybe this could have been the plot to an Enterprise movie. Which still could work, given that the narrative necessitates the actors be older for most of it.

General Shran!

The bridge is gone. There are so many intense and devastating moments here… and then it all gets totally erased! Ugh.

Archer remains self-sacrificing to the end, deciding to just blow himself up if that’ll destroy the parasites. Ultimately saving the timeline through the same impulse that set it astray in the first place. He tries to get Phlox and T’Pol to save themselves, but they remain as steadfastly loyal as they have ever been. I love these three so much!

All three die carrying through the mission to the end. Phlox, then T’Pol, then Archer. Archer and T’Pol fall together and are laying together when this timeline comes to and end. The closest the ship ever came to being canon… and poof it’s gone.

There’s a tag at the end that’s real, with T’Pol admonishing Archer that he should have left her in the hallway accident that initially debilitated him. This calls back to her similar claim after her experiences on the Selaya. Archer, who has been isolating himself and becoming more ruthless, reverts back to his old self when it comes to T’Pol.

T’Pol: You could have been seriously injured. I told you to leave me behind. Archer: Fortunately, I don’t take orders from you. T’Pol: I believe you wanted to see this? Archer: Rosemary’s Baby? T’Pol: You were obviously looking forward to it. And since you’re not going to be able to attend tonight… Archer: Thanks.

T’Pol is always there for her Captain, whatever the situation! But the second half of the scene kind of ruins the sentiment. For as good as the rest of the episode is, this end scene is muddled in terms of what tone the writer was going for. I don’t think the actors quite got it either. It seems like Archer repays T’Pol’s kindness by being a brat. And when he drops a ‘nurse’ line… do they remember on some level? Or was that just for the audience? Either way, it’s a weirdly comedic end to a heart-wrenching and emotional episode.

[allegra-writes]

"TKN"

Peter Parker x Anti-hero!Reader

General audiences

Warnings: None

Part XIII of the "Mercy" Series

SERIES MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

"Secrets only to those you can trust.

You better not break the Omerta..."

TKN - Rosalia f. Travis Scott

72 hours. That's how long you and Peter had been on the run. And in those 72 hours, Peter had gone through more new experiences than in a whole year as an avenger: He had joined the mile high club, only to five minutes later jump from said plane at cruise speed. He had illegally entered a country, broke into a department store and even shaved his whole head to completely change his appearance. He had celebrated his and yours new freedom with sangria, and more lovemaking at the beach under the stars... 

But this? Being held at gunpoint by a tiny girl with murder in her eyes and superhuman reflexes? That was, sadly, nothing new. 

It was like watching a dance, the way your high kick sent the gun in her left hand flying, as the blonde rolled out of your reach too fast for you to get a hold of the other gun on her right. You avoided a punch to your midriff, as she jumped away from your knife. And your boyfriend saw, helpless, as it was shot out of your hand by a bullet fired with millimetric precision to its blade. But he had been instructed under no uncertain terms to stay out of the confrontation, and by now he knew better than to disobey you. 

"Don't you know what they say about bringing a knife to a gunfight?" The girl quipped, heavy ucranian accent lacing her words.

You smirked,

"They only say that cause a knife is only as good as the one who wields it, тетя Lena… Are you sure you're better with a gun than I am with a knife?"

She rolled her eyes at your cockiness, knowing full well you had several more sharp weapons hidden in your body. 

"Ты менг раздржаешь... So," Lena inquired, eyeing Peter up and down, "Who's the boy toy?"

Your smirk intensified, a barely there twitch, an almost imperceptible movement of your fingers, was all the signal your boyfriend needed,

"His name is Peter," A web shooter went off, and Lena found herself suddenly unarmed "and he's not a boy toy" 

"No, he's an avenger" She spat the word like an insult, "You know the rules, Likho. We don't fuck with strangers"

"And we only share secrets with those we can trust" You finished for her, "I trust him, Lena" 

She huffed, still sizing him up, but you could see a new glint of curiosity, if not respect, in her emerald eyes. 

After a minute, she finally relaxed, dropping her defensive stance. Without another word, she turned away from you, opening a cabinet, taking out three glasses and a bottle of vodka. 

"What's the story, then?" She began pouring the drinks, "I assume there is a story there, last time I saw you, you wanted to kill the avengers. Now here you are, with one as a pet…"

"I'm not- I'm not a…" Peter stammered his protest, "I'm not a pet" 

"Then why are you trailing after her like a lost puppy?" 

"Lena," Your tone was warning, as you grabbed your glass "play nice"

She rolled her eyes again,

"You sound just like your mother. The blonde widow made a face, downing her drink in one gulp, only to immediately refill it, "I miss her"

"Yeah" you sighed, "me too…" 

Peter fidgeted uncomfortably next to you.

"Everything ok, Peter?"

Your boyfriend hesitated: His spider sense was still on high alert, but he couldn't really tell if it was because of the assassin, or another threat you were unaware of.

He decided to play it down for the moment.

"Yeah just… don't want to be rude or anything but I'm not really the vodka type"

"I guessed that already, Spider-Boy. Is why I didn't pour you one…"

"Then who's that one for?" He questioned pointing at the third one.

"That would be for me" 

You looked up, your face breaking into the biggest grin Peter had ever seen on you at the sound of the new voice.

"Alex!" 

A pang of jealousy hit him, as he watched you throw yourself into the arms of the tall, handsome stranger.

Because this Alex guy was handsome, there was no denying that: Bright hazel eyes on top of the sharpest cheekbones Peter had ever seen, pale face framed by dark, shiny long tresses almost to his shoulders.

"Nice hair" You teased, running your fingers through his luscious locks and Peter had the sudden impulse to stick bubble gum to them like Flash had done to him once, back in junior year. He self consciously rubbed his own head, too aware of his buzzcut.

"Nice bangs," the Alex guy shot back, messing your hair like one would to a little child, "you look like a schoolgirl" 

That earned him a rather painful looking punch to his shoulder.

"Punch like a girl too"

"Train a little harder and you will too" You winked. Peter cleared his throat. "Right, of course. Alex, this is Peter. Peter, this is Alex" 

They shook hands, Peter impulsively squeezing a little too hard for a human. But the skinnier boy simply smiled a wolfish grin, all sharp white teeth, returning the grip with just as much strength. 

"Welcome to the spiders' den, Peter"

…

An hour later found the four of you satiated and relaxed, amongst empty pizza boxes and beer bottles. 

"... So, there we were, completely surrounded by both Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, that were actually also Hydra agents, outnumbered and without any exit points in sight" Lena was retelling, Alex nodding enthusiastically beside her as he chew yet another slice of pepperoni, "So I reach inside my boot for my hidden glock, smirky hydra son of a bitch goes 'You looking for this, blondie?' Shaking my knife in front of my face…"

You fidget uncomfortably next to Peter, his eyes going from your beet red face to an Alex that seemed to be choking.

"And that little brat" she pointed at you, "Barbie pajamas, ice cream cone in one hand, my fucking gun in the other goes 'No, fart knocker, she was looking for this'" 

Alex finally snorted, little crumbs escaping his mouth and hitting you in the face as he started coughing. You wiped your face with as much dignity as you could muster.

"You're just salty because a nine year old saved your ass" 

"A sick nine year old" Alex managed to get out between barks, "With pink eye, she could only see with one eye. And using just one hand. Is why we call her Likho ever since" 

"Wait, you still had your ice cream?" 

"She never let go of that ice cream" Lena replied to the question Peter had directed at you, and you felt the temperature of your cheeks rise even more. 

"Literally single handedly took out 7 agents" Alex added, "and then demanded another scoop" 

All three of your companions dissolved in laughter, as you felt your stomach churn. Alex wouldn't look back on that particular memory with such fond eyes if he knew what that little incident had initiated, how it had snowballed until the consequences had reached a girl on the other side of the world, another red room experiment, just like you. 

They said a butterfly flapping its wings here can cause a typhoon in China. Well, your hurricane had levelled Ava Orlova's life.

You weren't one for guilt. Guilt had no place in survival. You did what had to be done in order to preserve yourself and your freedom. Just like your mother had taught you. Just like she had done. But being with Peter, loving Peter… well, that was having unforeseen consequences too, as you were coming to realize. 

Because now you understood. Now you understood Alex and Ava's bond, because Alex had felt for Ava the same way you did for Peter. Probably still did, since it was with trepidation that you realized his death probably wouldn't change your feelings for peter. 

After all, your own hadn't. 

"What about you, spider-boy? Any embarrassing stories to share?"

Peter smiled, for a minute forgetting where he was or why he was there,

"Actually, I do. It involves a barn, an overly friendly goat and hay in places hay should never…" He trailed off, his smile falling when he saw the look on your face.

"No! Why did you stop? That sounds like a great story!"

"Yeah, you got me at 'overly friendly goat'!"

Peter simply interlocked his fingers with yours, silently offering his support. It was time. You took a deep breath

"Because it wouldn't be fair to tell you a story that I don't remember" 

Silence fell over the small kitchen, as Lena and Alex processed your words, the later being the first to break it,

"S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"The T.A.H.I.T.I. protocol" you confirmed. He leaned back on his chair, chuckling, but there was no humor behind it.

"Well, well, well… ain't karma a bitch" 

"Alexei," Lena's tone was warning, "that was the Blank Slate project. You can't blame Likho for what Natasha did"

"Can't I? Really? Cause in over twenty years, our sister never cared about my 'trauma', but we find out about her" He pointed, accusingly, "and suddenly she is all about giving us a normal life. As if we could ever be normal. As if new memories could erase the Red Room from our bones"

"Alex…" You tried, weakly, but you didn't know what to say. Not when everything he was saying was true. 

"And now what? You want me to help you break through it? Now you need us to get back the memories they took from you, just like your mother stole memories from us?" 

"Alexei!"

"NO, YELENA!" Three figures automatically jumped into a fighting stance when his fist met the table. Alex closed his eyes, attempting to get his breathing, and his emotions, back under control. 

"If you want to help these Avengers, go ahead" He finally said, eyes fixed on his sister's, "but don't expect me to be a part of this." 

Without another word, he got up and left the room, leaving Yelena to pick the pieces of the broken bottle that had rolled off the table. And you, to pick up the pieces of your broken heart. 

"Shhh, it's ok, y/n" Peter, sweet, loyal Peter, tried to envelope you in his arms when he heard the first sob leave your throat, even if he didn't quite understand why it had hurt you so much to be called an Avenger. But Lena was there in a heartbeat, throwing him a dirty look, and taking your face in her hands to force you to look at her instead. 

"Don't listen to him, Likho. You're not an Avenger, you are a widow. You will always be a widow, and always will be a part of this family. Just like your mother."

You nodded, buring your face on your aunt's shoulder. 

"I'll help you, both of you" Yelena declared, eyes meeting Peter's, "Us spiders ought to take care of each other" 

To be continued… 

[olivemac]

heartbeat | chapter six | b.b.

Summary | When Steve Rogers asks Kate Stark to find the Winter Soldier, she gets too involved.

Notes | Captain America: Civil War re-write, essentially. Starts just after the events of CA: Winter Soldier.

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc, Bucky Barnes x Stark!oc

Genre | romance

Rating | explicit

Story Warnings | mild angst, fluff, romance tropes, so many romance tropes, coarse language, alcohol use, canon-typical violence, smut (m/f), oral sex (f&m receiving), 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings | canon-typical violence, coarse language

Citation | Russo, J., & Russo, A. (2016). Captain America: Civil War. Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures.

A/N #1 | FINALLY got this rewritten. Final chapter coming very soon, as well as a "lost scene" between chapters three and four.

A/N #2 | Feedback is encouraged! Let me know your thoughts.

master list | AO3 link

_____

prev chapter

_____

The next morning, the rest of Sam and Steve's plan comes together on the sixth level of a parking garage at the Leipzig/Halle airport. Steve pulls the car into a spot next to a grey van and gets out to greet Clint and Wanda.

"Cap," Clint says, shaking Steve's hand.

"You know I wouldn't have called if I had any other choice," Steve tells him.

"Hey man, you're doing me a favor," Clint says. "Besides, I owe a debt."

Steve looks at Wanda. "Thanks for having my back."

"It was time to get off my ass," she replies.

Kate, standing by Bucky next to the Volkswagen, nods her hello to Wanda and Clint.

"How about our other recruit?" Steve asks Clint.

"He's raring to go." Clint walks over to the van and opens the sliding back door. "Had to put a little coffee in him, but...he should be good."

The man lying across the backseat jolts up at the sound of the van door. "What time zone is this?" he asks.

"Come on. Come on," Clint says, pushing him forward.

The man shakes Steve's hand. "Captain America."

"Mr. Lang," Steve says.

"It's an honor. I'm shaking your hand too long," Scott Lang says, dropping Steve's hand. "Wow! This is awesome! Captain America." He turns to look at Wanda. "I know you, too. You're great!" When he looks back at Steve, Scott can't stop himself from feeling his broad shoulders. "Jeez," he says.

Steve looks over his shoulder at Bucky and Kate, and Kate raises her eyebrows at him in a silent question of "Who is this guy?"

"Ah, look," Scott continues, "I want to say, I know you know a lot of super people, so...thinks for thanking of me." He mixes up the words in his excitement, then turns to Sam, "Hey, man!"

"What's up, Tic Tac?" Sam greets.

"Uh, good to see you. Look, what happened last time when I..." Scott trails off.

"It was a great audition," Sam says, shaking his head, "but it'll...it'll never happen again."

"They tell you what we're up against?" Steve asks.

"Something about some...psycho-assassins?" Scott answers.

"We're outside the law on this one," Steve tells him. "So, if you come with us, you're a wanted man."

"Yeah, well, what else is new?" Scott says, shrugging.

"We should get moving," Bucky speaks up.

"We've got a chopper lined up," Clint tells Steve before a man's voice comes over the public announcement system in German.

"They're evacuating the airport," Bucky says.

"Stark," Sam says.

"Stark?" Lang questions.

Bucky looks at Kate. "You're not coming."

"Two things," she says, holding up two fingers. "First, I work for and own shares in a former weapons manufacturer started by my father. Second, I came to a foreign country as a single woman, alone, to find the Winter Soldier. Do you really think I came unprepared?"

She enters a code into the smart watch on her wrist and it transforms into a smaller version of Tony's Iron Man gauntlet, wrapping around her wrist and hand, leaving her fingers free.

"It's a repulsor," she says, pointing it at Sam.

"Nuh-uh, no," he says, holding up a finger.

"Plus, I know some self-defense," she says. "Romanoff trained me."

"So, she could probably kill us all," Clint says, smirking. Scott looks momentarily worried, and Kate winks at him.

Wanda hands Kate a duffel bag. "Thought you might want this," she says. Inside Kate finds a Stark Industries-designed tactical suit and a laptop.

"Thanks, love," Kate tells Wanda.

When she turns back to Bucky, he's staring at her. "What?" she asks.

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head, but his smile is wider than she's seen it in a while.

_____

While the rest of the team spreads out across the airport, Kate hangs back in a terminal, trying to hack into Tony's Iron Man suit. It's a long shot, but she wrote some of the code for FRIDAY so she thinks she might be able to shut down a few functions.

"Sir, Miss Stark is attempting take us offline," FRIDAY informs Tony.

"Shut her out," Tony says. "And remind me to ground her when this is over."

In the terminal, Kate's screen flashes the message "Nice try, sis" before going black. She slams the laptop closed.

"Fuck," she exclaims.

"We found it," Sam comes in over the comms. "Their Quinjet's in hangar five, north runway."

"I'm closest," Kate says.

"You know how to fly that thing, doll?" Bucky asks.

She smirks even though he can't see her. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Sergeant Barnes," she says, her voice heavy with innuendo.

Sam groans, "Please stop."

_____

With what's left of the Avenger's distracted by Steve's team, Kate is able to make her way to hangar five without any incident. She ascends the Quinjet's ramp and preps for flight.

"I'm in," she says over the comms.

"We're almost to you," Steve tells her.

From outside the Quinjet, Kate hears Natasha shout, "Get out of the jet, Katie."

She stands at the top of the ramp, not descending. "You know I can't do that, Nat," she says, shaking her head.

"Is he really worth all of this?" Nat asks.

Kate doesn't hesitate before answering. "Yes."

Near the entrance of the hangar, a control tower collapses. Steve and Bucky come running through the debris. Nat stands between them and the Quinjet.

"You're not going to stop," she says to Steve. It's not a question.

Steve shakes his head. "You know I can't."

Nat sighs, "I'm going to regret this." She lifts her wrist and fires an electric charge from her Black Widow's Bite, stunning T'Challa who stands behind Steve, ready to avenge his father’s death in the UN bombing.

"Go," Nat says.

Steve and Bucky join Kate on the Quinjet. "Glad you could make it," she says as Steve slides into the pilot's seat.

_____

Bucky and Kate sit behind Steve in the Quinjet, not speaking. Bucky's mind is a jumble of questions he wants to ask them both. He starts with Steve.

"What's going to happen to your friends?" Bucky asks.

Steve sighs and shakes his head. "Whatever it is...I'll deal with it."

Bucky stares straight ahead. "I don't know if I'm worth all this, Steve."

Steve glances at Bucky. "What you did all those years...it wasn't you. You didn't have a choice."

"I know," Bucky says, then looks at Steve, "but I did it."

Kate bites her bottom lip and stays silent.

_____

Somewhere outside of Moscow’s airspace, Kate's phone dings. She pulls up an encrypted email from Tony.

"Steve, you need to see this," she says.

She opens a file detailing who the doctor in Berlin really was: Colonel Helmut Zemo. Steve studies the information, his mouth set in a hard line.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Kate asks.

"He's Sokovian," Steve finally says, and Kate can see in his eyes that he's still haunted by what happened in the small country.

"At least Tony knows the truth now," she says.

Steve only nods.

_____

Steve brings the Quinjet to land in the snow on a remote mountain top and kills the engine. Kate pulls out a rack of guns labeled 'Romanoff' and hands Bucky a machine gun. She takes a pistol for herself from a cabinet above and places it in her thigh holster. She can feel Bucky's questioning eyes on her again.

"Tony used to take me shooting every year for my birthday," she says.

"You sure about this?" he asks. She knows what he's asking, if she's sure about risking her life for him, choosing him over Tony.

"Always," she says, and she kisses him on the cheek before sliding another pistol into the back of her belt.

She moves to stand behind Bucky and Steve as the exit ramp of the jet descends.

Steve turns to Bucky and asks, "You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?"

"Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?" Bucky asks, smiling.

"You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead," Steve says.

"What was her name again?" Bucky asks.

"Dolores. You called her Dot."

"Should I be jealous?" Kate chimes in.

Bucky smiles again. "She's got to be a hundred years old right now."

"So are we, pal," Steve says, clapping him on the back.

Kate follows closely behind Steve and Bucky as they enter the bunker. On a lower level, a loud thud catches their attention, and they all turn as a set of double doors are forced apart by Tony in his Iron Man suit.

He steps forward and retracts his helmet.

"So, you're done being a jackass?" Kate asks, lowering her weapon slightly.

"You seem a little defensive," Tony says. Steve takes a few steps toward him without lowering his shield. Behind him, Bucky keeps his gun aimed at Tony.

"It's been a long day," Steve says.

"At ease, Soldier," Tony says to Bucky. "I'm not currently after you."

"So, why are you here?" Steve asks. He wants to hear Tony admit he was wrong.

"Could be your story's not so crazy," Tony says. "Maybe. Ross has no idea I'm here. I'd like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I got to arrest myself."

"Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork," Steve replies, lowering his shield. "It's good to see you, Tony."

"You too, Cap," Tony says, then he turns at Kate. "Katie."

"Big brother," Kate says.

Tony looks at Bucky. "Hey, Manchurian Candidate," he says, "You're killing me. There's a truce here. You can drop..."

Steve indicates to Bucky that he can lower his weapon and he does.

The four of them continue through the bunker, with Bucky keeping Kate between himself and Steve. Tony, with his helmet reengaged, leads the group into a large chamber holding several cryo capsules.

"I've got heat signatures," he says.

"How many?" Steve asks.

Tony hesitates. "Uh, one."

As they enter, the lights come on and the cryo capsules fill with a hazy, yellow mist. They can see that the capsules contain the other super soldiers. Kate catches Bucky's eye and they share a bewildered look.

A voice comes over an intercom system. "If it's any comfort, they died in their sleep," Zemo says. "Did you really think I wanted more of you?"

As they draw closer, they can see that each soldier has been shot in the head.

"What the hell?" Bucky mutters.

"I'm grateful to them, though," Zemo continues. "They brought you here."

A light in a control room at the back of the chamber comes on, illuminating Zemo's face. Steve hurls his shield toward the small window, but it flies back.

"Please, Captain," Zemo says, "The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets."

"I'm betting I could beat that," Tony says.

"Oh, I'm sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time. But then you'd never know why you came."

"You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?" Steve asks, making his way to the door that separates Zemo from the rest of them.

"I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you're standing here, I just realized," Zemo pauses, "...there's a bit of green in the blue of your eyes." He chuckles. "How nice to find a flaw."

"You're Sokovian," Steve says. "Is that what this is about?"

"Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No," Zemo shakes his head. "I'm here because I made a promise."

"You lost someone?"

Zemo clicks his tongue. "I lost everyone. And so will you."

A small screen to Steve's left comes to life.

"An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again," Zemo continues. "But one which crumbles from within? That's dead. Forever."

Tony steps up to the screen, his helmet retracted, and studies the grainy security footage of a secluded road.

"I know that road," he says. He turns to Zemo, "What is this?"

Kate steps up behind him. "It's...." she starts but doesn't finish. She can't pull her eyes away from the date at the bottom of the screen: December 16, 1991.

The tape plays. The car on screen crashes into a tree, and Kate gasps. She watches as her father tumbles out of the driver's side door and a man approaches. She can hear her father's voice in her head before he speaks: "Help my wife, my daughter. Please. Help." Bucky can't look at Kate; he doesn't want to see the realization dawn on her face, doesn't want to watch it turn to hatred. When her father looks to the man above him with recognition and says, "Sergeant Barnes?" Kate sobs. She isn't sure how her legs are still holding her up, and she can taste bile in her mouth.

When the tape ends, Tony lunges toward Bucky.

Steve stops him. "Tony. Tony."

Tony turns to Steve, tears in his eyes, "Did you know?"

"I didn't know it was him," Steve says.

"Don't bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?" he asks again.

"Yes," Steve answers. Tony pushes him away.

Kate finally turns to look at Bucky. He's not sure he can handle the tears running down her face. "You could have killed me," she says. "You should have killed me. Why didn't you?" Her voice grows progressively louder with each statement.

"You weren't my mission," he says quietly. But it's a lie. The mission called for no witnesses. He doesn't know why Kate is still alive. But he remembers her wide, scared eyes looking up at him that night, not unlike how she's looking at him now, and his heart feels like it might crack in two.

"So, what?" Tony shouts. "The Winter Soldier has a conscience? You don't kill kids? Just leave them orphaned?" He lunges for Bucky again.

"Tony, stop," Kate says, reaching for him.

Tony turns to her quickly. "You're grounded, Katie," he says, and he fires a low-voltage stun from his repulsor that knocks her unconscious. Bucky lets out a deep growl as Kate's body hits the floor.

The fight that breaks out is chaotic. Steve is certain that Tony will kill Bucky, and he isn't confident that Bucky won't be able to keep himself from killing Tony to protect Kate.

"Get out of here," he roars at Bucky, and he throws himself between the two of them.

"It wasn't him, Tony," Steve shouts. "HYDRA had control of his mind!"

"Move!" Tony demands.

"It wasn't him!"

But Tony isn't letting up. Tony gets Bucky the neck and seethes, "Do you even remember them?"

"I remember all of them," Bucky growls and pushes off from the platform he's on, taking Tony with him.

_____

When Kate wakes, her head is pounding. She gets to her feet slowly and looks around. Zemo is gone, having used the chaos as an opportunity to escape, and she can't see Bucky, Steve, or Tony anywhere. The room is eerily quiet. She stands still for a moment, taking deep breaths and waiting for a wave of nausea to pass. She's fairly sure she has a concussion.

As her vision becomes clearer and the ringing in her ears dies away, Steve appears at the entrance of the room with Bucky beside him. They're leaning on each other and seem to both be holding the other up. Bucky's titanium arm has been blown away, and Kate gasps at the sight. Steve doesn't look much better. She makes her way to them and presses her palm against Bucky's bloody cheek. The sight of him in pain momentarily outweighs her heartbreak at the recent revelations about her parents. He hisses at the touch to his bruised face, and she pulls her hand away quickly.

"Sorry," she says. But he shakes his head.

Kate turns to Steve. "Where's Tony?"

Steve gives a nod over his shoulder toward the silo where he left Tony with the shield, and says, "It's over."

Kate wants to ask more questions, but she doesn't think now is the time. She follows the two super soldiers out of the bunker and back to the Quinjet.

_____

Aboard the Quinjet, Kate finds one of Tony's T-shirts and wraps it around what's left of Bucky's arm to cover the jagged metal. Then she pulls out the first aid kit and wipes the blood from his face. They haven't spoken about the tape or that night in 1991, and neither of them know what to say. So, they both stay silent.

When she finishes with Bucky, Kate makes Steve sit still so she can clean his wounds, as well. He watches her closely as she bandages his bloody knuckles.

"I'm sorry about Tony," he says. "About what he did to you back there."

"Thanks," she says. "I've never seen him like that. He...," she pauses, "I know he feels guilty about what happened, things he said to Dad before he died, things he didn't say. And then...having to raise me. It was a lot for him."

"And you?" Steve asks.

Kate is quiet for a moment before answering. “They died before I even knew them. The only memory I have of them is this dream of the night of the crash and a man I thought was a figment of my imagination. Turns out.…” She doesn’t finish the thought.

“It wasn’t him,” Steve says. “Not really.”

She looks over at Bucky, slumped in one of the seats on the other side of the jet. She knows he's listening, but he doesn't look up. "I know," she tells Steve, meeting his eyes again with a soft smile.

Kate closes the first aid kid and stands. Before she turns away from Steve, she says, "You knew. Nat knew, and she left it out of the file. You could have told me."

Steve looks up at her. "Would you have helped me find him?"

"I don't know," she says. She looks at Bucky again. "But I'm glad I did."

_____

final chapter

[dragoqueen]

Whoops! Wrong Way 5/8

Summary: Peter has been living at Avengers Tower for 2 years, known to the workers and Avengers as Peter Parker-Stark-Rogers.  When his teacher announces that they're going on a field trip to Avengers Tower, or SI,  he's going to have to attempt to survive a day of embarrassment and keeping a secret identity.

Words: 2068

“Go away you old man! You’re ruining the moment!” Peter shrieks at Steve. Steve only chuckles and finishes walking over to Peter’s table. Turns out, Bucky is with him too, and they've brought food. “Chill out kid, we were just bringing some more food.”

“Yes! Give it to me then git.”

“That’s kind of rude. We’re providing food.”

“Yeah but you’re ruining the field trip! I just want to live normally please.”

“Fine kid. We’ll see you soon.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘soon’”?

“Your tour is going to the training room. Must I say more?” Steve asks. 

“No!!! Please don’t let them kill anyone too much,” Peter groans. 

“Alright. See you kid.”

They leave with Wade after placing a small bag of cookies. Peter grumbles something about “boyfriend stealer” while munching on more of the cookies and sliding a few over to MJ and Ned to let them try them. Just as Mars announces that it’s time to go onto the next part of the tour they’ve finished all of the cookies. They line up at the elevator and step in once Mars has finished the head count. “FRIDAY, take us to the training room please,” Mars asks.

“It appears that you do not have clearance to go here.” 

Mars sighs, “uh, Peter can you tell FRIDAY to take us to the training room. Apparently they didn’t fix my clearance to take you guys there and you’re the only one that’d be able to bring us up.”

“Oh, sure. Uh, FRIDAY? Can you bring us up to the training room please?”

The elevator lurches up in response causing a few kids to stumble at the sudden movement. Peter chuckles, reminiscing of the time he did the same thing the day he met Bucky in the elevator. He was too busy fanboying to remember how fast the elevator traveled. He ended up falling into Bucky, leaving both of them apologizing up until they made it to the intern labs where Peter got off red as a tomato. Stark often reminds them both of it because Bucky had entered the penthouse freaked out that he had accidentally hurt a child. 

His laughter results in a few embarrassed glares, but he still thinks it’s worth it. FRIDAY announces that they’ve aived on the training food so they all step out and travel down the exceptionally long hallway to the end where there’s a glass door, Mars peers through and goes pale, “uh… it appears that some of the Avengers are currently training in here so give me a second to make sure it’s okay we come in.” He slowly cracks the door open and peers his head in, “umm… I’m here with the tour group from Midtown, Our schedule has been changed and we were supposed to come here after lunch, is that okay?”

“Midtown? Isn’t that Peter’s school? Sure you guys can come in!” Steve announces from inside. 

Peter sighs, knowing that they’ve definitely had this planned all along. The class lines up against an empty wall, watching in awe at the battle taking place. At the moment, Natasha is in the middle of sparring with Clint. They go back and forth, exchanging hits and blocks. Eventually Natasha manages to swipe Clint’s feet from underneath him. She traps him on the ground and a few seconds later he taps out. “Alright guys, that was a successful spar,” Natasha says to the class in between sips of water, “no one got hut… too badly. Bird Brain over here could obviously never beat me without a few injuries on both of our parts. Anyway, because you are here and because you are the class of our favorite маленький паук (little spider), we are going to teach you some basic self defense and give some of you the chance to spar with one of us. To start I’ll show you what to do, then partner up and practice. MJ, can you come up here please?” 

MJ smirks and slides off her jacket and hands it to Ned before stepping into the small ring. Many of the students wondered why Natasha knew MJ by name and was asking her for help. MJ often sparred with Nat and was actually quite good at it. Peter was sure that if she was enhanced like him she could easily take him down. 

Since they’d previously sparred before, MJ knew exactly what to do. Natasha first demonstrated a punch, knowing that MJ would show the proper way to block. Afterwards, she showed a kick. After they're done MJ returns to the group, punching Ned on the arm when he keeps staring at her, amazed that she just “fought” Black Widow. Natasha tells everyone to partner up and announces that the four of them would be walking around and making sure everyone was doing good. Peter pairs up with MJ, which Ned is actually happy about because he knows that they would easily be able to beat him. He spent most of his time at SI in the labs with Bruce rather than learning to fight so he partnered up with someone who also didn’t really know what they were doing. 

Natasha walks by while Peter and MJ are practicing the different punches and kicks and tells them that they can practice with the bo staff in the arena if they want. Nat had been giving them lessons on different fighting techniques and weapons and currently they were working on the bo staff. They take turns practicing different blocks and strikes, and even a few spins to show off. They end their mini-practice session with a spar. Both start on opposite ends before they begin circling each other. 

Peter makes the first move by making a jab motion with the staff aimed at MJ’s chest. She blocks it and twirls his staff with her own before knocking it to the ground. She follows that by using the staff to pole vault herself towards Peter and kicks him in the chest. He falls back with a grunt, using her moment of appreciation to quickly analyze the situation before standing up and flipping over her to regain possession of his staff. He spins around in time to block a hit from her. He follows that by spinning in the air and kicking her mid-air. She stumbles backwards, trying to regain balance. He moves forward to continue but suddenly stops when he hears Natasha talking, “alight guys, that’s enough. Time for some of you guys to spar with us. Get some water if you need it, then line back up.” 

Peter turns around and becomes suddenly aware that everyone has been watching him and MJ fight. He offers a sheepish grin before following Nat’s instructions. He puts the staff away and grabs some water, sipping on it as he rejoins the group of students, who have stopped staring at him and have returned to paying attention to Natasha. “Alight, this is how this is going to go. You’ll raise your hand if you want to spar with one of us. I’ll call on you one by one and you can stay who you want to spar and we’ll go from there. Sound good?” she’s met with a bunch of nodding heads so she continues, “okay who’s first… how about you right there,” she points to Flash, “who do you want to spar with?” 

“You.”

“Alright then, step up,” 

He walks into the ring confidently, “don't go easy on my, I can take it. In fact, I’ll try to go easy on you, don’t want to hurt a girl.” 

Peter, who up until this point had been trying to hold in a laugh, knowing fully well that Flash was going to get absolutely pummeled, couldn’t contain his laughter and ended up choking from laughing so hard, Flash glares at him while Natsha sends him a playful grin, knowing exactly why he was laughing, “маленький паук (little spider), hush now, see what he can do!” 

Flash, assuming she’s telling Peter off, immediately returns to smirking, he turns back to Natasha and sees that she has assumed a fighting stance, he gets into a fighting position of his own, waiting for Steve to tell them to start. Natsha notes all the incorrect things about his pose from the beginning. As soon as Steve says, “start,” she’s ready. Flash runs at her, expecting to be able to tackle her immediately. Instead, she grabs him and swings him around before slamming him down onto the ground. He ends up with the wind knocked out of him. He lays there for a few minutes, struggling to catch his breath. Then, finally, he stands up and limps out of the arena. 

After that, most of the students are afraid to volunteer. However, oce the next person goes and the Avengers go much easier on them, more people are willing to try. Once everyone who wants to has gone Natasha begins scanning the coed of students for Peter. Sheinds him near the back and smiles, “Peter! Why don’t you come up here and show your classmates what a real spar looks like.”

“Uh, no thanks Nat. I’m good.”

“Come on маленький паук (little spider), pleasee? For me?”

“Seriously, тетя таша (Aunt Tasha), I’m fine.” 

“Хорошо, тогда ты просто присоединишься к нам в битве с твоим хулигано (Fine then, you'll just join us in a nerf battle against your bully there).”

“мама паук, пожалуйста, нет (Mama Spider, please no).” 

“Она права, Пит. нужно за себя постоять, да к тому же это то или мы сами его избиваем (She's right Pete. You need to stand up for yourself. And besides, it's this or we beat him up ourselves) , “Bucky adds, having been listening to their conversation that no one else understood. 

“Хорошо, но я могу выбирать команды (Fine, but I get to choose teams).”

They turn their focus back to the rest of the group and realize they’re staring, again. 

Good freaking job, Peter. Now they all know you speak Russian. You freaking idiot.

Don’t start thinking like that again Peter.

What? Wanda? What are you doing inside my head and where are you?

Outside the training room. Natsaha connected to me via our private mind link and told me to send a group of us down for a nerf battle. 

Oh no. How many of there are you? 

Me, Clint, Sam, Scott, Wade, Nebula, and Pietro.

Oh, this is going to be awesome. 

Indeed. 

Peter feels her leaving his mind and is thankful that she doesn’t bring the comment back up. Natsha begins explaining to the rest of the class that they’re going to see one of the training exercises that the Avengers do. She also explains how she’s going to choose two people who each can create a team of 6 people, a mix of Avengers and students, to take part in the training exercise.

As she finishes her explanation, the group of Avengers that Wanda mentioned walk through the door and join Bucky, Steve, and Natasha at the front of the room. Natsha smiles at the room of star-struck children before calling out the  team captains of the training exercise, “Flash, Peter. You two are going to be the team captains of the training exercise. Peter, you can choose first. Come up here, the both of you, and go back and forth choosing. 

“I want Nat.” Peter says. 

“I’ll take Hawkeye,” Flash chooses. 

“Bucky.” “Captain America,” 

“Nebula.”

“Falcon.” “Wanda.” “Pietro.” “MJ.” Peter says, leaving Flash with a confused look, wondering why Peter would choose a student over an Avenger. 

“Ned.”

“Deadpool.”

Wade gives his boyfriend a hurt look. Peter gives him puppy dog eyes and mouths,” he’d be sad. You’re fine.” Wade sticks his tongue out but joins Flash’s side of the room. “Alright guys these are the rules- if you’re enhanced, no using your powers. If you get hit you’re out, leave the arena and join the tour group in the spectator section. Don’t cheat, FRIDAY will be reffing and will call you out. 

With that, she presses a button, revealing an entire arena of parkour and bunkers. There’s nerf guns spread out all around the arena, as well as more ammo. The closer to the center you get the better guns there are. Each team has a starting base where each person has a pistol with two bullets to start. 

“To your starting bases! FRIDAY announces. 

[new-sandrafilter]

Timothée Chalamet and Eileen Atkins Interview - British Vogue May 2020

“Maybe your knuckles weren’t bleeding, but there was ice,” Timothée Chalamet tells Dame Eileen Atkins. He is recounting, with no small amount of awe, how he first came to hear of the legendary 85-year-old actor with whom he is about to appear at The Old Vic. It transpires that Oscar Isaac, Chalamet’s co-star in the upcoming blockbuster Dune, was at the receiving end of Atkins’ fist in Ridley Scott’s Robin Hood (all in the name of acting, of course). Chalamet was duly impressed.

“I gave him the worst time of his life,” says Atkins, bristling at the memory, before merrily launching into several candid, very dame-like stories from her time on set – “That was a nightmare movie. A nightmare.”

It is a Saturday afternoon in late February, and the two actors – one a titan of British theatre with an eight-decade career; the other, Hollywood’s most in-demand young leading man, with an insatiable Instagram following – have just finished being photographed together for Vogue. Chalamet, 24, in louche, low-slung denim and a white T-shirt, has folded his Bambi limbs into a chair next to Atkins, whose hawkish frame, in a navy jumper and jeans, belies her 85 years.

“Do you like being called Tim or Timothée or what?” Atkins asks in her warm but brisk RP, all trace of her Tottenham upbringing erased.

“Whatever works,” he replies in a bright American accent, that shock of chestnut hair falling into his eyes. “Anything.”

“So you won’t object to ‘darling’? I call everyone darling. I’m told I mustn’t say it these days.” He assures her he is fine with it: “It’s a rite of passage, being called darling by Dame Eileen Atkins.”

“You always, always, have to put the dame in, otherwise you can’t address me,” she jokes.

It’s good the two are getting all this sorted now. A couple of days after our interview they will begin rehearsals for a seven-week run of Amy Herzog’s play 4000 Miles, in which they star as a grandmother and grandson, each quietly dealing with their own grief. Chalamet takes on the role of Leo Joseph-Connell, a somewhat lost 21-year-old who experiences a tragedy while on a 4,000-mile-long cycle ride with his best friend. Atkins plays Vera Joseph, his widowed 91-year-old grandmother, upon whose Manhattan doorstep Leo unexpectedly arrives in the middle of the night, unsure of where else to go. What follows is a wonderful, and wonderfully witty, study in human relationships, a portrait of two generations with decades between them trying to make sense of the world.

Its stars, who’ve met twice previously, in New York last year, are still very much getting to know each other – and are confident in the appeal. “There are things like this play – hoping I don’t butcher it – where you can just sit back and go, ‘Oh, this is a delicious meal,’” says Chalamet. Atkins agrees. “I have a phrase in mind that I shouldn’t really say because it’s going to sound terrible in print.” Which is? “I find it a dear little play, a really dear little play. I think it should be very moving. But who knows? We might f**k it up.”

It’s unlikely. Atkins has been a regular on The Old Vic’s stage since the 1960s, going toe-to-toe with greats from Laurence Olivier to Alec Guinness, and fellow dames (and close friends) Maggie Smith and Judi Dench. Chalamet, meanwhile, is a relative novice, with only two professional plays under his belt. But since his turn as Elio in 2017’s Call Me by Your Name (for which he was Oscar-nominated), his celluloid rise has been meteoric. Roles in Lady Bird, Little Women, The King and Wes Anderson’s upcoming The French Dispatch have not only earned him the slightly fraught badge of “heart-throb”, but proved him to be among the most captivating actors of his generation.

He says he couldn’t resist the opportunity to come to the capital. “There was something exciting about doing a play that feels very New York in London,” Chalamet explains of taking on the part. He’s a diehard theatre fan, too, revealing he saw the six-and-a-half-hour epic The Inheritance – twice. “There are films like The Dark Knight or Punch-Drunk Love or Parasite that can give you a special feeling. But nothing will be like seeing Death of a Salesman on Broadway with Philip Seymour Hoffman or A Raisin in the Sun with Denzel Washington.”

Herzog’s writing particularly spoke to him. “Leo’s in a stasis that was very appealing to me,” he continues. “We find our crisis in moments of stasis, but there’s an irony to it when you’re young, because the law of the land would have you think that to be young is to be having fun, to be coming into your own. But as everyone at this age who’s going through it knows, it’s often a shitshow.”

It’s safe to say that, in casting terms, director Matthew Warchus, also artistic director of The Old Vic, has hit the jackpot. He first took the play to Atkins three years ago, but it was only towards the end of 2019 that Chalamet came on board. When it was announced, in December, that Hollywood’s heir apparent to Leonardo DiCaprio would be making his London stage debut, the news was met with a level of hysteria not usually associated with the 202-year-old theatre’s crowd.

“Oh, my friends have told me who the audience is,” Atkins chimes in when I ask who they think will be coming to see the show. “It’s 40 per cent girls who want to go to bed with Timothée, it’s 40 per cent men who want to go to bed with Timothée, and it’s 20 per cent my old faithfuls.” Is Chalamet prepared for the onslaught? “I think it will be 100 per cent Eileen’s faithfuls,” he demurs.

On the surface, they can seem quite the odd couple. Chalamet, raised in Manhattan by an American dancer-turned-realtor mother and French father, an in-house editor at the United Nations, may be living a breathless, nomadic movie-star life but there’s an iron core of Gen Z earnestness there. He arrives on set with minimal fuss, even deciding to wear the clothes he came in for one shot, before knocking out some push-ups, politely ordering an omelette and generally being divinely well-mannered.

He turns on the star power for the camera, though, and I can confirm it’s as dazzling up close as it is on the red carpet, where he has, famously, casually redrawn the rules for male dressing. From that Louis Vuitton sparkly bib at the 2018 Golden Globes, to a dove-grey satin Haider Ackermann tux at Venice last year, he’s a true fashion darling. Then, of course, there’s his dating life – from Lourdes Ciccone Leon to Lily-Rose Depp – that remains an endless source of fascination to millions worldwide. (All this, it must be said, is of significantly less interest to Dame Eileen.)

Atkins started dance lessons aged three, shortly before the start of the Second World War. By 12, she was performing professionally in pantomime, not far from where she grew up in north London, the youngest daughter in a working-class family. A fast-established theatre star, wider fame didn’t find her until late in life. Despite memorable turns in Upstairs, Downstairs and Gosford Park, it was the 2000 television hits Cranford and Doc Martin, when she was in her early seventies, that finally made her a household name. Today, she lives alone in west London, since her second husband, the TV and film producer Bill Shepherd, died in 2016. She has often spoken of being happily childless, and has zero time for razzmatazz.

And yet, despite their differences, the pair appear perfectly matched. They already have their grandmother-grandson dynamic down pat. Atkins does a fine line in mischievous eyebrow-raising, and at one point recites a limerick that is, honestly, so rude it almost makes her co-star blush. Chalamet, meanwhile, is politeness personified, still trying to work out his thoughts on various subjects, less inclined to give so much of himself away. There is a physical likeness, too, in their delicate features and fine bone structure. They share a naturally melancholic look, one that melts away when they laugh.

Their upcoming play, which premiered to rapturous reviews Off-Broadway in 2011, “about a block” from Chalamet’s high school, LaGuardia, could have been written for them. “Other than not being American, I’m very like the old woman,” says Atkins of the Pulitzer-shortlisted play. “I can’t be bothered to learn the internet.” If there’s one thing she won’t tolerate in rehearsals, it’s people on their phones. That’s the only thing that will “piss me off ”, she says, brusquely.

Ah, phones. Are they really the symbol of generational disconnect? “It’s easy to point to these things,” Chalamet says, tapping his phone on the table, “as the cause or the symptom, but I think my generation is a guinea pig generation of sorts. We’re figuring out the pros and cons and limits of technology.”

Equally, Atkins is keen to distance herself from some of the criticism levelled at her age group. “There’s a saying isn’t there: if you’re not very left wing when you’re young, you’re heartless. And if you’re not very right wing when you’re old, you’re foolish. I’m not political, but I’m not with this government I can assure you – and I’m not with Brexit. I wanted to wear a sweater saying ‘I did not vote Brexit’, because it was all old people who did. Not me, not me,” she snaps. “I went on the march.”

Both are in agreement that intergenerational friendships are too rare these days. “So. Important,” Chalamet says, hitting the table between each word. “There is so much to learn from people who have walked the path of life. That’s why I’m so looking forward to these next couple of months.”

Atkins is thoughtful on the matter. “I don’t miss the fact I don’t have children, but I do envy my friends who have grandchildren,” she says. “About five or six years ago I met a couple of young people – they are just about 30 this year – and, do you know, we go out together. And people immediately say to me, ‘Are these your grandchildren?’ And I say, ‘No.’ And they say, ‘Your godchildren?’ And I say, ‘No, they’re just friends.’ Everybody thinks there is something weird about all three of us. They just don’t get it. But the boy makes me laugh more than anybody and the girl is enchanting. I have more fun with them than I do with almost anybody else.”

I remind Atkins about her description of today’s youth as being overly serious. “I do call them the New Puritans, yes,” she says, before motioning to her young co-star. “He probably drinks like a fish.”

Chalamet, currently single, is remaining tight-lipped about plans for his new London life, and how many late-night manoeuvres in Soho or Peckham it may involve. “I’ve got friends here, which is nice. But I’m here for this – to be terrified at The Old Vic.”

Before we leave, there is a final thing to clear up – Atkins’ aforementioned limerick. “Do you know about the Colin Farrell situation?” Eileen asks Timothée. No, comes his reply. “Better get it over with now because someone will tell you,” she says, proceeding to explain how, when she was “69, about to be 70” and filming Ask the Dust with a 27-year-old Farrell, “he made a pass at me. He came to my hotel room. He was enchanting. I let him chat for two hours, thoroughly enjoying it, but no not that. He was very cross I didn’t.”

But then, she explains guiltily, she later told the story during “some stupid TV show” (Loose Women), where despite her best efforts at keeping Farrell’s identity secret, the internet did its thing and news got out. An apology to Farrell was required. “So I left a limerick on Colin’s phone…” she says. She clears her throat: “There once was a **** of a dame…” she begins, in her imitable theatrical timbre, before reeling off one of the filthiest rhymes I’ve ever heard.

There is a moment of stunned laughter. “Wow, that’s sincerely amazing,” comes Chalamet’s response, as Atkins finishes the verse. He gives her a solemn oath: “I promise I won’t hit on you.”

4000 Miles is at The Old Vic, SE1, from 6 April

[vegetacide]

TaG: Bloodlines (Part 6)

Veg • notables: Little something for Fluffember .. works for several prompts... Brothers,  warmth and together...

Any errors in this are strictly my own

Ty to @gumnut-logic and @scribbles97 for the brainstorming help and the encouragement.

Previous: Part 1 | Part 2 Bit 1 & Bit 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Rating and General warning: Mature content head. If you are not a fan of medical issues of a female nature in relation to pregnancy please proceed with caution.

Characters: Virgil, Kayo, (V/K)  Scott, Alan,  John, Gordon and Grandma.

Location: TaG-verse AU | Tracy Island

E N J O Y

8-8-8

Part 6 - Keluarga

The flight home was thankfully an  uneventful affair.

Kayo had fallen asleep almost as soon as the jet’s door had been closed and Virgil had been by her side holding her hand the whole way back to their island.

When the island finally came into sight there was a collective sigh of relief. The stress of everything having sucked the energy right out of all of them and home meant safety, comfort and more importantly; sleep.

Tucking Kayo safely back into their marital bed saw Virgil relaxing for the first time since… well since he’d woken up that morning..God, had it only been twelve hours ago? It felt like a lifetime and the exhaustion weighed on him furiously.

Not that he would be able to get much sleep tonight.

Leaning over his sleeping wife,  he adjusted the sheets and brushed her forehead with a kiss.  She stirred slightly and turned into him, always one to seek his heat even on a tropical island and her eyes blinked open myopically.

“Shhh,  it’s okay.  We’re home.  Go back to sleep.”

Kayo snuggled further under the covers and quiet ‘Love you’  drifted his way as he emptied his pockets of his ID, wallet and personal communication.

A light knock on their door, had him turning and he toed off his boots to muffle his movements before he traversed the short distance.  Opening it he was only mildly surprised to find his brothers on the other side..  All of them.

Holding up a finger he glanced back into the room to make sure everything was in order and that Kayo would have everything she needed. Not that it looked like she would be rising anytime soon.  The whole affair of the day had done her in.

Truthfully, he was happy she was finally getting some rest even if it was ordered and dismantling Shadow had been in his back pocket as a way to convenience her.

Surprisingly though after going through all the details with his family when they were discharged, Kayo looked like she wasn’t in the mood for any more lecturing so the Shadow card hadn’t needed to be played.

She’d barely moved since they’d left the hospital except when he’d move her.   He’d woken her up long enough to pour a drink of electrolytes down her throat and a protein bar into her belly and she’d been out again barely after swallowing the lot.

An uncomfortable trip to the bathroom later which his Grandmother had seen to though he had been hovering just outside the door in case he was needed.  A change of clothes and into bed she went. Out like a light again before her head even hit the pillow.

He was done in himself but his brain was running in circles which didn’t look like it would be giving up anything time soon. So the company just outside the door was a welcome distraction.

Satisfied that his wife would be alright.  He set his comms to alert him if she woke up and carefully crept out the door.

“Hey Virg,”  Alan whispered, stepping up to his brother and giving him a hug.  “How’s Kay?  She gonna be alright?”

Virgil hugged his brother back,  taking the opportunity to ruffle his hair while he was at it.

Alan grumbled at the action and wiggled away.  Smoothing his hair back into place as soon as he was free  and Virgil couldn’t help the smile that upturned his lips at the disgruntled look his littlest brother shot him.

“Hey Space Case.  She’s sleeping but Doc said she’ll be alright. She just needs to get some rest.”

“Looks like you could use some yourself.”  Gordon observed and moved in for a hug as well.

“Thanks, Squid.  Glad you noticed.”

“Well someone has to keep you honest and Kayo..” His eyes did a sweep of him from head to toe. “Well, she’s blinded by all that muscle."

The swat Virgil sent the aquanau's way as easily dodged as he danced out of reach.

Laughing as he used Alan as a human shield who protested loudly at being manhandled,  he tossed out  “All that bulk is slowing you down,  you should lay off the protein shakes.”

Virgil just rolled his eyes.  Trust Gordon to do whatever he could to lighten the mood with whatever tomfoolery he had at his disposal.

It was at that point that he noticed John standing in the back of the crowd of brotherly forms.  “John, when did you get here?’

John just shrugged,  “Not long ago.  I came as soon as I could but that storm system off the coast made taking the elevator down impossible.

“It’s good to see ya in the flesh.” Virgil smiled, stepping forward enveloping the communications expert in a hug. John’s hugs were rare but the returned squeeze was given freely, a testament to the support system his brothers were offering.

“You too, brother mine.”

Scott stepped up next, though he’d been at the hospital with the couple. “Anything you need, let us know.”  He offered and the round of hugging continued.

“I know and I appreciate it.”

He could always count on his family when the chips were down,  there was no doubt about that.

Scott released him, one hand giving his shoulder a squeeze and tipped his head towards the door at Virgil’s back. “Doc’s made arrangements to come out in a couple weeks' time.  Just had the call come through with the details. Shouldn’t be a problem getting him out here for it.  Between us and Aunt Val we have plenty of pilots who can give him a lift.”

“Great,  I’m sure Kay will be thrilled.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed again and Scott gave him a knowing look.

“She’s a fighter.  Hates being benched just as badly if not more so than we do.”

“That’s what I’m worried about..”

“Meh don’t worry about it.  With the Great Doctor Sally Tracy with her sights set on her,  Kayo doesn’t stand a chance.” Gordon piped up.  “Trust me on that one. She’ll be lucky if she can manage to wiggle a toe without Grandma noticing.”

“Well she had to be super vigilant with you, Gordo. We still have no clue how you managed to change the electronic audio to Spanish from the couch.”

Gordon stood up taller,  primped in all his mastery of everything prankster.  “Trade secret. If I tell you, I would have to kill you.”

This time there was no dodging the swats directed at his head from three older siblings though Alan yet again shrieked in protest as he was tossed about like a sac of meat. 

Sally was a practical woman with simple tastes and simple pleasures.   A night of bridge with the girls at the local social club,   bocce ball every other Tuesday with fellow medical alumni and curling once a month with her bereavement group who had become like an extended family to her after her husband had passed.

Simple things, never extravagant.

She grew up with the mentality that to get what you wanted took hard work and determination.  Blood, sweat and tears was her motto through her years of medical training and her intern placement in one of the busiest hospitals in the U.S.

She’d worked hard to get where she was today despite the trials and tribulations of being widowed, dealing with her own grief and that of her son’s and taking charge of his young brood while he wallowed in his pain.

She didn’t fault Jeff for his actions,  she understood them intimately.  She’d lost herself in taking care of the boys to help keep the pain at bay.  Oftentimes pushing them just as hard as she did herself. In the end though despite the odds, she thought everything had turned out all right.

Was the road easy?  No.  Far from it.   Was there things she wished she had handled differently?  Of course.  Her son disappearing into a bottle of despair being one of them.  But the boys had been raised well by their dear mother even if only for a short time.

The eldest who remembered her memory took that care, love and devotion their mother had been known for and poured it into the younger two.  Doing everything within the power of their shattered world to keep the family in one cohesive piece even when their father was absent both mentally and physically.

They’d survived and come out the other end stronger than anything she could have imagined and she wasn’t afraid to admit it and how proud she was of every single one of them.

And true form when one of the brothers stumbled the other four were right there to steady him and get him back on his feet. Providing whatever support that was needed in their own individual ways.

When others would bolt,  her boys rallied.  Diving in head first to shore up whoever was in need.  It’s what made them great at what they did. That core strength of love and support radiated out of everything they touched and because of that they’d helped more than she could count.

Here she was,  coming to check on her adoptive granddaughter and her loving boys where right were she expecting them to be.  Standing as a unit outside Virgil’s door.  Surrounding him and holding him up with hugs, pats on the back and caring words.

She stopped and kept back a few paces, letting them have their moment and watching all the love. They deserved this moment cause they were few and so far in between.

Rescuing the world didn’t leave much time for brotherly interaction and these precious moments needed to be cherished.

Leaning against the wall, she allowed a soft smile to grace her lips.  Something in her movement must have alerted her boys though because no sooner had she settled than one by one they turned her way.  Not surprised in the least to find her there.

She looked at them, taking in the details of the men they had grown into and she locked the details away for safekeeping.

Scott with the little licks of grey at his temple a sign of the stress the last years had put on them all but his eyes sporting the beginnings of laugh lines.

Virgil,  his quiet nature and artist spirit.  Steadfast even with his wife just feet away resting with their babe growing in her belly.   As worried as he was for he felt things more deeply than all of them he put on a brave face. Not wanting youngest brothers to see him waver even though she knew he was.

His eyes spoke volumes.  She could see the exhaustion and fear in them but even so he graced her with a small smile in return.;

John, her star baby.  When had he come down?  Shocked, she frowned slightly as she took in his uniform. He’d need to wear that for a while until he acclimated to Earth’s gravity again.. A downside to living in the stars so far away.   How he managed the isolations, she had no idea. He’d grown up in a house so full of life until there hadn’t been but he’d silently held on.  Striving to be the best at what he did.  

Next was the vivacious Gordon.  Beams of sunshine in his hair and mischief in his eyes.  He’s seen and done a lot in his short life. Days so dark with despair as his broken body healed.  She’s spent many an hour sitting with him in the VA hospital watching and keeping him company as his body painfully knit itself back together again after every surgery but for all of it. He never complained with the exception of food.   Just grinned and bared it though she could see the cracks.  He'd come through it all, scarred and sporting a motley collection of surgical steel plates and bolts and kept on smiling.

And lastly her baby boy,  Alan. Her rocket man.   He’d missed so much in life.  A normal childhood, school, friends and typical boyhood misadventures.  First date,  prom, graduation but he’d still done the family proud and held his head up high.  He flew the stars and was living a dream most kids his age could only dream about.  A tender age but the top of his field and he got to fly a rocket ship.  What kid wouldn’t love that? 

Her boys.  No, her men.  Through diversity and trauma they all stood tall and together.

Pushing away from the wall she went to them and was lost in a sea of hugs.

8-8-8

TBC

NEXT

[eirabach]

Backlash [5/5]

The last bit of Gordon + Used as Bait for @godsliltippy and @badthingshappenbingo and on ao3 here. I absolutely need to make these things more concise.

It's not -- it's not great. Not even a little bit. Not at all. But Gordon's -- Gordon's faced worse, hasn't he? He can still swim, blinded. Still move. Still walk and talk and feel and touch and kiss -- it's been worse.

Kinda.

"Alan?"

There's a noise, a echoey, scuffley, heavy sort of noise, like someone dragging anchor chains out of dry dock, and Gordon hasn't spent enough time on Three to know what it is, other than it's gotta be Alan. There's no one else here after all.

"Yeah?"

Alan sounds wrong too, all nasal and wet, and Gordon's blown his eardrum right out but he still recognises the misery behind the word. Still knows it's his job to fix it - even if it's his fault it’s there in the first place. Sorta. Maybe.

He’s pretty sure that Alan’s not all that pleased at having him cluttering up his ‘bird, half deaf and blinded and with a head that feels fit to burst. He’s just kinda hazy on how he got that way, if he’s honest. It's probably his own fault though. It usually is.

But there’s another nasty, throbbing ache that he does happen to know he didn’t come by honestly.

"I'm still mad about the elbow."

The clattering pauses, and Gordon strains his one goodish ear until he hears the little huff of breath that means his little brother’s turned his attention toward him, until he’s sure Alan’s words are stained more with irritation than sadness.

"Don't you have more important things to worry about?"

Yes. No. Deflect. Wind him up because Gordon’s good at that. Wind him up and maybe -- just maybe -- it won’t hurt so much to shake his head. "Spoken like a true child."

Alan scoffs. "Just because you spend all your free time mooning over Lady Penelope doesn't mean the rest of us are as hopeless as you."

Gordon fakes a cry of outrage, but the gasp that follows is real. Three’s moving, swaying beneath him, and when Alan speaks he sounds further away, deeper and more muffled and Gordon pitches his own voice higher, louder, an attempt to compensate for something he can’t quite name. The clattering and banging starts up again and God, but his head hurts.

"I am sure you can't possibly be referring to yourself there Alan Bartlett Underage Tracy?"

"Well I'm sure as hell not talking about John."

"You don't know that. He's a dark horse, out in space all alone -- could be up to anything."

'Have you met John?"

"He wears a super tight spacesuit."

"I'm not sure what you're trying to say but please, don't ."

"They say it's always the quiet ones."

"That's only because they haven't met you ."

"Poor souls."

There’s a final sort of slam sound, and Three launches herself forward with a shuddering, violent jolt. Unsecured and unsteady Gordon founders, his hands scrabbling for a grip on something anything as Alan yelps from -- from somewhere.

Oh God. Oh God, he can’t see . He can’t see and Alan -- Alan .

If anything happens to Alan, he’s fucked.

If anything happens to Alan, he won’t even know.

“Gords? Oh crap Gordy I’m sorry, that was a bit -- I was swapping over Four’s power cells -- get us some extra -- extra kick. Too much kick, maybe. I’m sorry. I should have warned you -- I should --” Gordon feels the neoprene of his gloves being tugged and pulled and then, then there are two warm hands wrapped around his own. Bigger than the last time he’d held them, rougher, but still, unmistakably --

“Allie,” the childhood nickname’s half choked out, two syllables almost two too many for his pounding head, his frantic heart. “This is shit .”

---

“This is shit.”

“There aren’t tow trucks out there, Scott.” Virgil, of course, remains infuriatingly soothing even now. It's the habit of a lifetime and Scott wonders, sometimes, if it would be acceptable to smack him. “There’s no-one coming to help. When you’re in trouble that far out, we’re it ."

“So that’s it then? We just sit and watch?”

The little red triangle that represents a solid 33% of Scott’s entire heart moves, achingly slowly, across the arc of space that now hangs in their living room. Above it John hovers, not down, not like he would be in any other family emergency, but still far above them all in Five. Still way, way too close, but Five can’t get there. Can't come to the rescue of the would-be rescuers. No one can.

“Believe me, Scott. I’ve run the figures, if there was any way --”

“Don’t give me the platitudes, John! I’m not some -- some weeping widow you can fob off. This is Gordon and Alan, and we can’t just leave them out there!”

Virgil and John exchange a look, and Virgil sighs. The likelihood of that smack is increasing by the second.

“Grandma’s certain the blindness is only temporary, and they’re making good progress Scott. They’ll be home within a fortnight, and then you’ll be wishing they hadn’t got back so quick."

Scott spins on the spot, fear making his finger shake as he jams it into his brother’s chest. “What the hell are you trying to say, Virgil?”

“I’m not trying to say --”

“No, spit it out. You think this is no big deal, do you?”

Virgil holds up his hands, eyes wide. “I never --”

“Because this is my call. I sent them out there, and if -- if anything else happens --”

“Scott. They’ll be okay. They will.”

Scott shakes his head, frantic. “And if they’re not? If Grandma’s wrong?”

“Don’t let her hear you say that."

“Virgil!” Scott crumples, collapsing onto the sofa with his head in his hands. “What if ."

---

Virgil doesn’t have an answer for Scott, but John does.

He’s run every conceivable outcome through every parameter he can think of, staying up on Five as a small, useless concession to the distance between older and younger, safe and wounded. It means he knows, now, what if.

He’s figured it all out; what if Alan runs out of fuel, what if Gordon’s concussion takes a turn for the worse, what if Three sustained damage or a freak meteorite hits her engine core. He’s considered them all in every teeny, tiny, detail. Knows the likelihood down to a millionth of a percentage point and it ought to help, hadn’t it? Knowing how utterly unlikely such things are.

It doesn’t.

Not when he knows what would come next. The self loathing, the recriminations, the horrible, baffling concept of Gordon, blinded. Hurt. Worse. Gordon, who has always seemed the most determined to live life to the fullest of all of them, and for whom life has always been almost brutally, unfairly cruel.

He’d adapt, of course, if Grandma’s wrong. He’s that way inclined.

The numbers suggest that the rest of them would not.

Perhaps he’s being unfair on Virgil, really. Perhaps Virgil knows as well as John does the way the guilt would eat at them from the inside out. Does. Is. The way it burns in the fingertips that pressed the button, chokes the throats of those who said “Go.” Perhaps that’s why he’s letting Scott snap and snarl at him, John wouldn’t know. He’s always left that sort of thing to Virgil after all, but it seems like the sort of thing that Virgil would do.

Distract.

Reassure.

Offer hope.

John’s decent enough at the first two -- it’s sort of his job after all -- but hope, hope rarely comes from the numbers and the numbers are where John puts his faith, sticks his certainty.

The numbers, he tells himself, don’t lie. Lying benefits no one. It’s just a sticking plaster, a minute or two of relief borrowed from the pain yet to come. He’s never really understood the point of it before.

But then he opens his comm, opens the line, opens his mouth, and John -- John understands, now.

Sightless eyes turn upward, a guess that doesn’t quite work, followed by a smile that’s far too broad turned bloodless and grey in the holographic light.

“Gordy. It’s John. You’re going to be okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He has twelve days til the backlash.

[scribbles97]

Left Behind - Chapter 4

This thing just keeps going and keeps going some more! I blame all your wonderful comments and feedback thank you so very much to everyone!

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13

Read On Ao3

John didn’t often visit the den, it was more of a space for the younger of the five of them to sit and play games or watch films away from the main hub of the lounge. Scott and Virgil could be found in there often enough, normally distracting the youngest two when the lounge became a communications hub for International Rescue. 

It wasn’t any surprise that he found Scott there. 

If it had have been earlier in the day, the eldest would have probably set off on a run around the island. The ground was tretarous though and Scott knew there was good reason for a ban on night time runs. 

It was equal parts fortunate and unfortunate that Virgil was there to be on the receiving end of big brother’s rant. 

He took the beanbag between the pair, lounging back as Scott’s rant trailed off. 

“She’s grieving too Scott,” Virgil murmured softly, “Plus she’s having to keep everything else going. I don’t imagine she meant to have a dig at you specifically.”

Scott shook his head, “She doesn’t want any of us on the teams, Virgil. Not if she can find a way to stop us and that’s exactly what she’s looking to do with me.”

“Oh would you listen to yourself.” John rolled his eyes, looking to Scott, “It’s not that she doesn’t want us to be part of this.”

Scott’s glare turned on him, but it didn’t scare John, it hadn’t for a long time. 

“Then what, John? What else could make her so damn determined to screw me over?”

Virgil was watching him too, brown eyes wary. 

“You’re the only one of us already in service with IR.” He shrugged, Scott had no reason to get angry with the facts at least, “We’ve lost Dad because of him having a role within IR.”

The look Scott was giving him was still hard. It hurt John to think how much like their father Scott looked when he set his face like that. Yet there was something about that face that he could see wasn’t right. The set of his eyes wasn’t one of anger, there wasn’t that spark of passion there that Scott always had when something had made him angry. 

“So?”

Virgil huffed, “Come on Scott, you’re not thick.”

John shook his head, “You know Scott. Don’t act like you don’t.”

“Screw that.” Scott spat, looking away from John to the balcony that looked out over the island’s runway. His voice softened as his shoulders fell slightly, the anger having ebbed slightly in just that moment, 

“Dad built those ships for us. He always said it. Five original ships. Five of us.”

None of them looked around at the sound of rushed footsteps across the wooden floor. John winced as Alan announced his and Gordon’s arrival,

“I wanna fly Thunderbird three!”

Scott’s glare focussed on the youngest, “Go away Alan. You weren’t invited to this talk.”

Virgil reached out to their little brother, frowning at Scott, “Hold up there. He’s as much a part of all this as the rest of us.”

Gordon threw himself to the floor at John’s feet, folding his arms as he looked between his three older brothers. 

Please don’t ask. John thought to himself, the last thing he wanted was Scott all riled up again. 

“He’s just a kid!” Scott exclaimed, flinging an arm towards Alan. 

“I am not!” Alan shouted back, “I told Mommy, I’m not a kid!”

“Mom thinks we’re all kids Alan!” Scott snapped, sitting straighter in the bean bag, towering over the youngest, “Now Dad’s gone she’s not going to let any of us do anything because she thinks something's going to happen to us like it did him.”

“I don’t care!” Alan pouted, shouting back just as loud as his big brother, “I don’t want anyone to leave ever again! I don’t want anyone else to die!”

It was his final word that shocked them all into stunned silence. All four of them looking at the one stood in the centre, cheeks red and suddenly tear stained.

Scott always did have a soft spot for comforting upset siblings. 

John caught Gordon’s shoulder, stopping him from going to the youngest before Scott could. It earned him a glare from the swimmer, but as Scott pushed himself up from the beanbag, John knew he was right to make the call. 

“Hey Allie,” Scott cooed as he wrapped the youngest up in his arms, “It’s okay kid. Nobody else is going away.”

Alan pushed away from him, not completely but just enough to wipe at his eyes with his arm.

“You don’ know that Scotty,” He sniffed, “Nobody knew Daddy was gonna die.”

John’s chest hurt as he watched the pair, wishing he could say something but knowing he had to keep quiet. 

“What if you go?” Alan continued, “Or what if Mommy goes? ‘M scared that she might not come back.”

He saw the moment, the second that the hard look that had been on Scott’s face all afternoon fell as he pulled Alan back close to him. Yet it wasn’t what he had been waiting for. 

Scott had rested his head against Alan’s, John saw the elder brother swallow hard as he screwed his eyes shut. 

“I’m scared too Allie.”

Releasing his hold of Gordon’s shoulder, John gave a slight nod, “None of us know what happens next.”

“No,” Scott agreed softly looking up to him, “We don’t.”

John would take the look his big brother was giving him as an apology. It was likely about all that he would get in terms of how Scott should have listened to him, not that he would complain. It seemed that he had taken a step forward at least by admitting that he was having the same feelings as the rest of them. 

“But we can’t let that fear dictate our lives,” Virgil added, wriggling off of his beanbag to wrap an arm around Alan’s shoulders.

Scott nodded in agreement, “V’s right, we have to trust Mom, and each other, that we will come home. Otherwise we’ll be so busy worrying, we won’t be able to focus on the stuff that really matters.”

“You’re all going to make me sick with this sentiment,” Gordon uttered, shifting to stand. 

John smirked as Virgil grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into his side, “Says the one about to leave us for olympic training.”

“Gerroff!” Gordon protested, struggling against Virgil’s arm, “Alan, help!”

The youngest giggled as he watched the pair, shaking his head, “You’re on your own there, Gordy.”

As Gordon wriggled out of Virgil’s grasp and launched at Alan, John caught Scott’s eye. A raised eyebrow and a lift of his chin was enough to ask the silent question he needed an answer to. 

Just as discreetly, Scott nodded in return, his smile fading briefly along with the laughter that had been in his eyes. 

Maybe they weren’t okay in that moment, but given time, John knew they would be.

***

She wanted wine, but being on duty meant she had to settle with juice. 

Juice didn’t get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth. 

Leaning forward she set the glass down on the pile of papers she didn’t particularly care about at that moment. John had walked out and left her drowning in her own thoughts.

“Did I give up too soon?”

Val rolled her eyes from where she had been leaning against the wall, waiting for Lucy to answer whatever had been asked when she and Lee had arrived in the office. Folding her arms she shifted to stand straighter, “You couldn’t warrant the resources any longer. Not when there are other people needing our help.”

Warranted resources or not, what use was International Rescue if they couldn’t save one of their own?

“Luce,” Lee drawled, crossing one leg over the other in the armchair in the far corner of the room, “Stop it. You did what you deemed necessary and them boys need to accept that.”

Except her boys weren’t kids any more. Three of them were legally adults, old enough to make their own decisions and lead their own lives. 

If those decisions lead them to IR, who was she to stop them? 

Their mother. 

A widow.

The new CEO of the organisation.

“Those boys,” Val started, glaring at Lee, her tone of voice giving away that she didn’t approve entirely of his statement, “have the stubbornness of both you and Jeff in them, they were never going to want to give up on him easily.”

She looked to Lucy, arms folded as she shrugged, “If Scott and John have something they think they can trial, it might be worth looking into.”

Val wasn’t wrong. 

Lucy’s gut had been to look into the program John had described.

Fear had got her hung up on how the redhead had known about the specs of the space station.

“It scares me that they want to go into this,” She whispered, eyes distant, not really seeing the room in front of her, “Not only what’s happened,” She swallowed hard, screwing her eyes shut as she tried to block the thoughts from her head, “But, how many injuries have we had this quarter alone? Despite the safety measures.”

She knew that she couldn’t count them on two hands. 

“They’ve wanted to be part of this since the start.” Val told her immediately, “We always said there was a ship here for each of them.”

“Ships for them or not,” Lee cut in, “They need to respect those above them if they want to be part of this, family or not.”

“No,” Lucy found herself murmuring, her thoughts escaping as she continued to gaze at nothing, “Val’s right, Lee. If they each went to one of the other teams, maybe we wouldn’t have a problem.” 

Taking a breath she refocussed on the room, looking between her brother and her best friend, “But I couldn’t send them away, not now, not after this.”

Lee sighed, shaking his head, “If you do that you’re asking for trouble.”

Yet she couldn’t see another way. 

“I have to keep them safe Lee, somewhere I can keep an eye on them and not have to constantly wonder if they’re safe.”

“And what about the program? Everything that we have all gone through along with every other member?”

Lee had never been a stickler for the rules, he had always picked and chosen what he listened to. The problem was, the things he picked to stick by, he stuck by religiously. 

“We would still put the boys through it,” Val shrugged, “Scott’s already gone through it all, it wouldn’t be fair if the rest of them didn’t.”

Perhaps it wouldn’t be a perfect solution, but she supposed it was the best of all the options. 

Pursing her lips she leant back in her seat with a sigh, “I just hope they don’t see it as me trying to keep them under my thumb.”

“We would have to do it the right way,” Val murmured in agreement, ignoring Lee’s huff of disapproval, “Find a way to manage them as their own team.”

Lucy knew that wouldn’t be an issue, “They’re good as a team, they always have been. Whenever we went on--” Her voice caught, breaking off the memory of family camping trips. 

“Hey,” Val murmured, rounding the desk and spinning Lucy’s chair so she could crouch in front of her, “it’s alright Luce, what is it?”

She shook her head, wiping at the tears that had sprung to her eyes so unexpectedly.

Loneliness that had been twisting her stomach for days had finally knotted itself there, leaving her feeling sick and hurting. Jeff was gone. Their bed was half empty and cold. There was suddenly nobody there at her side, stealing subtle glances, knowing smiles, and the most tender of touches. 

It was like half of her had been ripped away and she had been left to bleed out. 

“I don’t--” She choked out through a sob, “-I don-- know if I can do this… not without him.”

Val squeezed her leg, waiting until she met her eye to shake her head, “It’s alright Luce, I know it’s hard. None of this is going to be easy, but you’ve got us, and you’ve got the boys. We’re all going to help you through this. Just tell us what you need?”

Throwing herself into work hadn’t helped. Sitting and processing hadn’t either. 

She wasn’t sure what else she could do. 

Lee’s grunt as he stood from the armchair drew her attention. He looked to her with a slight nod before looking to Val, 

“She needs time. We all just need some time.”

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Catching Feelings 4/? (Keanu x OFC)

Summary: AU in which Keanu is down on his luck after he comes to  Hollywood  trying to be an actor. To earn some money, he joins this app for   escorts and meets Steph, a rising star who hires him to try to forget   her ex. Neither of them are expecting to fall in love and all the   problems it brings. Previous chapters: 1 2 3

Author’s Notes: Once again, thank you for all the lovely feedback. They really make my day. Here we are with a new chapter. Let’s get on with the angst.

Wordcount: 3146

Warnings: smut (unprotected sex; prostitution).

His new jeans were still a little uncomfortable tight and the t-shirt felt a little itchy even if the fabric was soft against his skin and, as Keanu looked at himself in the mirror of the bathroom, he couldn’t understand how he looked so different when he was wearing the same type of clothes he always did.

Maybe it wasn’t about looking different but feeling it. The fabric covering his body right now cost more than two months of rent for his apartment and that was a strange thing to know. Also strange was the fact that Steph bought all of this for him in a blink of an eye, without hesitation or asking him anything in return. Keanu didn’t know what to do with that. Only that it didn’t feel right. It felt like he was taking advantage of her, of her kindness and it made him feel like a piece of shit.

“Ke, you’re ready?” she called out and he smiled at the nickname. He loved how it sound in her voice.

“Yeah,” he combed his fingers through his hair one last time, before stepping out of the guest room, jacket hanging from his arm.

He found Steph sitting on the couch while putting on her ankle boots. She was dressed in a short black dress that hung above her knees and accentuated her gorgeous curves and he felt the familiar stirring of arousal in his belly. He could just flip her skirt and fuck her senseless right there on the couch.

“I know that look,” she said with a smirk as she stood. Even in heels, she was so much shorter than him. “Not yet, lover boy.”

She grabbed the tweed coat that was laying beside her and led the way to the garage and threw him the car keys, which Keanu caught more out of reflex than anything.

“Can you drive, please? I hate doing it in heels.”

Keanu nodded, getting the door for her, before sliding onto the driver’s seat of her Audi, hands caressing the soft leather of the wheel as he admired the vehicle.

“Do you want me to give you two a moment?”

“Sorry,” Keanu replied with a chuckle, starting the engine and groaning as it purred to life. This was one hell of a machine.

“Are you sure? I think this car is turning you on more than I do,” Steph teased as she got the gate open and Keanu flashed her a grin.

“Nothing turns me on more than you do,” he assured, maneuvering the car into the street and Steph smirked.

“That’s good,” she said, turning her body his way and glancing at Keanu under her lashes. “Because the car didn’t forego its underwear just so you could fuck it in the club’s restroom.” She pulled her skirt up high enough so Keanu could catch a glimpse of her dark curls, before she pulled it back again, smoothing the fabric over her legs.

“Fuck Steph!” he hissed, his dick throbbing in his pants. “You can’t just do and say stuff like that when I’m driving.” She just chuckled in response, looking out the window.

“I’ll be good from now on. I promise.”

Steph did keep her word and dinner was a quite pleasant affair. They talked and laughed and ate some delicious dishes that Keanu couldn’t name for the life of him. He had only one glass of wine through the night so he could drive without breaking the law, while she worked her way through some of the sommelier’s suggestions.

Keanu cut her off after the third glass because her eyes were getting a little glazed and her speech slurred. If it was up to him, they would go straight home – and he didn’t want to think over the fact that he was thinking of her house as home – but Steph insisted that she was perfectly fine and still wanted to go out dancing.

He helped her back into her coat and tucked her closer to his body as they walked through the small mob of paparazzi waiting for her outside. Keanu was nearly blinded by all the flashes and questions shouted, but he managed to get her safely inside the car without any incidents.

“You’re ok?” she asked as he pulled the car into traffic, hand rubbing circles on his thigh. “I know how that can get overwhelming.”

“I’m fine, babe. A little blind,” he joked, making her chuckle, but it was weak. “You hate it, don’t you? That part? The lack of privacy?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” she sighed, looking out the window. “It makes me wonder if it’s all worth it sometimes.”

“Do you love what you do?” Keanu asked and Steph nodded, glancing at him as he caught her hand and squeezed lightly, making her smile. It actually reached her eyes this time around. “Then it’s worth it.”

“Thanks, Ke.”

Things went a lot easier in the night club Steph led him to. It was pretty exclusive and the bouncer waved them in as soon as he spotted her. They dropped off their coats and she led him straight to the bar, opening up a tab and asking for a shot of tequila.

“You’re sure you want to go straight for the hard stuff?” Keanu asked, shouting over the pounding beat of electronic music.

“Yes!” Steph declared, sprinkling salt on his hand, before licking it, swallowing her shot and sticking the lime in her mouth with a wince and head shake and Keanu just chuckled, ordering himself a beer, before following her to the dance floor.

They danced most of the night. Well, Steph danced, Keanu stood close to her, swaying awkwardly from side to side. It made her giggle and pull him closer, trying to guide his movements with hands on his hips, but without much success.

She pressed her back against his chest, grinding against him and Keanu swallowed hard, mouth going dry and skin even more overheated in the bad illuminated club. He knew she was doing it on purpose by the way Steph pushed her ass against his crotch, bringing his hands to her thighs. Better men than Keanu would get a hard-on from that.

“I need a sec,” he said in her ear, feeling the vibrations of her laughter before he pulled away and headed for the restroom, washing his face with cold water to try to get himself under control.

Once Keanu was sure he was ok and his dick was under control, he checked his phone, noticing a few missed calls from his bandmates. He texted his apologies, promising to be at rehearsal tomorrow, before pocketing his phone and heading back into the club.

A small wave of panic caught him when Keanu didn’t spot Steph right away. She had a little too much to drink and was vulnerable to creeps. He should never have left her side. He was there to take care of her, keep her safe.

“Hey buddy,” he called out to the bartender, catching his attention. “Did you see the girl I was with?”

“Steph?” he asked, and Keanu should’ve known she was a regular there. He nodded and the bartender gestured over Keanu’s shoulder. He turned around to look, catching sight of Steph arguing with her ex at the balcony of the VIP area.

Keanu made a beeline to the stairs, worry increasing by the second, but was stopped at the stairs by a bouncer.

“Sorry pal, can’t go up without a bracelet.”

“My…” he hesitated, unsure of how to describe Steph. “Friend is up there.”

“Sure, they are,” the bouncer snorted in disbelief, blocking the way, arms crossed over his chest. Keanu took a moment to evaluate the situation. He could probably take this guy, even if he wasn’t much of a fighter but that would get too much attention and he knew that was the last thing Steph wanted.

With worry still twisting his guts, Keanu stepped back his gaze shifting to the couple in the VIP lounge. What had looked like a heated argument moments ago had shifted into an intimate conversation. Kevin was crowding her space; his hand tracing patterns on Steph’s arm as he spoke in her ear. Jealousy burned in the pit of his stomach and something in his chest ached.

Keanu had been so stupid to let himself believe this thing between them could be anything more than some adventure to her; some crazy fun. Hire a hooker, sleep with him while she was on a break with her boyfriend. Maybe even let herself be photographed so he could see and be jealous. Keanu meant nothing to her, and he should’ve known.

He snorted at his own naivety and moved away, grabbing his jacket on his way out. The cool drizzle falling made him hug himself as he hailed a cab. When Keanu got inside the car, he thought he heard his name being called out, but ignored it.

---

In the first couple of weeks, Steph would send him requests every day. They hadn’t shared phone numbers and the Mars and Venus chat was only available when both parties accepted the transaction. So, Keanu kept refusing it until she gave up; even if it broke his heart every time he got a new notification and saw it wasn’t her.

Keanu shoved the clothes she bought him to the back of his closet and made sure to keep himself oblivious to any news that featured her. He blacklisted her name on his google news notifications and avoided all gossip magazines whenever he stopped by the newsstand to buy himself some cigarettes. If Steph’s face showed up on his TV, he made sure to change the channel as quickly as he could.

Instead, he threw himself into his band and work. He upped his price again on Mars and Venus and Keanu really thought that would make his requests drop, but it only seemed to encourage these women. Like Scott had told him, they were mostly older, some widowers or divorcees who wanted a company for the night or something pretty one their arms for an event. Every once in a while, a married one would hire him to make her husband jealous.

Keanu made clear from their first interactions in the chat that he wouldn’t sleep with them and most of them accepted his conditions. Some still tried to seduce him, but he remained adamant even if he felt attracted to them. He was never good at keeping feelings away from sex so he couldn’t let himself be vulnerable to what happened with Steph.

After a month, he had made enough to get himself a better apartment and moved away from the one he had shared with Scott. Keanu was even managing to send some money back home, help his mom and sisters a little. He didn’t feel as awkward about being an escort anymore and got quite apt at hiding his face whenever he was out with a client in an event and someone happened to snap a picture. Keanu liked to keep his anonymity.

He still worked at the bike shop, more out of habit and love for bikes than actual need and Dogstar finally managed to record their first demo. Now they only needed a producer to give them a chance.

With all that was going on in his life, Keanu managed to push Steph mostly out of his mind. She still haunted his dreams, but there was nothing he could do about that. It wasn’t all that surprising that he was caught off guard when Gard called out his name one day, holding the phone against his chest.

“Ke, there’s a woman on the phone wanting to talk to you about a bike.”

Figuring it was just a customer he had helped in the shop, Keanu didn’t think twice about answering with a quiet greeting.

“Hi,” she breathed out and it was enough to make his heart hammer against his chest. “Please don’t hang up. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“How did you get this number?” Keanu asked, his voice breaking a little and Gard shot him a worried look.

“I researched all bike custom shops in Los Angeles until I find one owned by a Gard,” Steph explained, and he could hear the small sad smile in her voice. “I know you don’t want to see or talk to me, but your bike has been sitting in my garage for a month and I know how much it means to you so I just wanted to know if you want me to arrange it to be sent to Gard’s shop or…”

“No,” he cut her off, squeezing his hand into a fist to keep it from shaking. “I’ll pick it up. Can I?”

“Of course, Keanu. It’s yours,” Steph replied with a sigh. “I’m leaving for France in a couple of weeks until then…”

“I’ll pick it up tonight,” he said running his fingers through his hair. Keanu should just get this over with. “Is eight, ok?”

“Sure.”

Keanu hung up without saying goodbye, dropping the phone and rushing to the restroom, dry heaving on the toilet as his lungs struggled to catch a breath. He thought he was over this. Over her. Apparently, he had been wrong.

At eight, Keanu stepped out of the cab in front of a house he thought he would never see again. His hand shook as he pressed the call button on the intercom, hearing the electric buzz of the lock releasing. Steph saw him through the security camera and let him in without a word.

His foot felt like they weighed a ton as he crossed the red brick pathway to her front door, which was pulled open before he could even reach the porch. Keanu froze at the sight of Steph standing there, oversized t-shirt – his he realized – and dark leggings, her hair falling messily around her round face, her brown eyes sad and hesitant as she watched him.

And he knew he was going to regret it later but he stalked towards her, hooking an arm around her waist and catching her lips in a kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs coming around his waist as he lifted her up and pushed her against the wall, kicking the door shut with his heel.

Their kisses were hard and frantic, almost bruising as they all but tore each other’s clothes off, hands desperate to find skin they craved for. Keanu dipped his fingers inside her panties, spreading her wetness over her folds before his fingers pushed inside her, making Steph gasp and claw at his shoulders. He hissed against her neck, biting at the tendon, his cock throbbing and aching for her.

“I need you inside me,” Steph gasped, tugging at his hair to make him look at her. “Right now.”

“I don’t have any condoms with me,” Keanu said, rubbing at her clit to make her moan and rock her hips.

“I don’t care,” she whimpered, pulling him closer again for another hard kiss. “Just fuck me, Ke.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he grunted, her tone making him just as desperate for her. He pulled his fingers away from her cunt long enough to rip her underwear away and line himself against her opening.

They moaned together as he pushed inside, the feel of her walls quivering and stretching to accommodating him, hot and wet and so goddamn tight nearly driving him to the edge.

Keanu held her against the wall, his hands probably leaving bruised on her soft skin as he supported her weight and started to thrust into her.

Steph groaned, her hands grabbing at his hair, squeezing to the point of pain as she gasped and panted against his mouth and Keanu could taste the wine in her lips as their breaths mingled together and he swallowed her curses and praises.

“Yes, Ke. Just like that,” she pleaded, head thudding against the wall as he sped up his movements. “You’re gonna come inside me, babe? Fill me up?”

“Fuck yes!” he grunted, and she bit on his lip and ran her tongue over to soothe the sting. “I wanna see my cum dripping out of you.”

Steph whimpered again, her hand sneaking between their bodies to swirl her own clit and Keanu could tell she was close by the needy little cries and the way her walls were squeezing him. He was nearly at his limit too, pleasure building on the base of his spine and making his body hypersensitive and his movements uncoordinated.

“I’m gonna…” he warned, thrusting a couple of more times before his climax made his vision white-out for a second and he almost missed the way Steph moaned his name as she came too, cunt pulsing around him deliciously.

Keanu locked his knees together, his thighs quivering with the effort of keeping himself and Steph upright. He gulped huge gasps of breath as she ran her fingers through his sweaty hair almost soothingly.

“Let’s go to bed,” she invited, pressing soft little kisses over his face and Keanu sighed. He wanted to say yes. He really did.

“I can’t. I have a client.”

“Oh.” Steph’s eyes clouded for a second before she looked away from him and nodded. “Better put me down then. You don’t want to be late.”

“No,” Keanu sighed, letting go of her legs so she could stand on her own. “Can I…?” he gestured towards her bathroom and she nodded, still not looking his way.

He felt like a jerk as he cleaned himself up and tucked himself back into his jeans. When Keanu stepped out, Steph had put his shirt back on, but he could still see the evidence on their desperation on the marks on her neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said touching his own neck and she shrugged.

“They’ll fade,” she said, leading the way to the garage where his bike was parked right next to her car, the keys inside his helmet.

“I wasn’t getting back together with him, you know?” Steph said, starting Keanu. “He tried to sweet-talk me, but I knew he was only doing it so I could put a good word for him with Fincher. Which I wasn’t gonna do.”

“Oh,” Keanu said dumbly, guilt making bile rise to his throat and he swallowed around the painful lump and looked away. “You deserve better anyway.”

“I know,” she nodded and stepped up to him, kissing his cheek so gently and affectionately, it brought tears to his eyes. “Goodbye, Keanu.”

He didn’t manage to say anything in response before she had the garage door open for him. Keanu looked at her one last time, his throat blocked by sorrow as he put on his helmet and sped away from her house and her life. Or so he thought.

xxx (tbc) xxx

go to part 5

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[ravenforce]

See you in a minute

Requested by: @subjectx17

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 4544

Warning/s: FIRST, INCLUDES ENDGAME SPOILERS. DON’T READ UNLESS YOU’VE WATCHED THE MOVIE ALREADY. Secondly, angsty, of course. Lastly, long af.

A/N: Hey guys, again don’t read this if you still haven’t seen Endgame. I also didn’t include a summary here so it wouldn’t spoil the movie but the plot for this imagine to simply put it is, R took Tony’s role at the end of the movie. I would like to apologize if I mixed up some deets from the movie, I tried to stay on course as much as possible but sometimes my memory fails me. LMAO. I would also like to say thank you to Luce for this wonderful prompt. I hope you guys like it. Also, my works are still not showing up on the tag search. If you guys love it, I would appreciate the reblogs. Thanks. Happy reading. xx

Part Two is here: I’ll Never Love Again

Part Three: Stardust

Alternate Part Three (3B): Begin Again Pt. 1 

Five Years After

You just arrived back at the compound from a solo recon mission and you can hear your girlfriend's voice coming from the living room. It's fairly easy to decipher as you're the only two Avengers living at the compound now. You stood by the door and silently watch Natasha's conference call with the others. She's really good at keeping things together while the others moved on with their lives. You couldn't begrudge everyone though, there was nothing you could do and Nat choose this path, and you choose to follow and support her wherever she goes.

"I brought you some real food," you said the moment Rhodey ended the call.

She swiveled in her chair to look at you. After all that happened, she can still take your breath away just by looking at you. She beckoned you to come closer. When you did, she quickly snatched the bag of food and put it on her table before she pulled you by the hips and have you straddle her. You laughed while you run your hand through her red hair, she fought not to close her eyes but the feeling of your fingers on her hair and you pressed close to her is just too good.

"I don't know what I would do without you," she said as she wrapped her arms around your waist tighter. Holding the last of the Avengers together, holding herself together, and keeping up hope is tedious work; and Natasha is doing it all.

You wrapped your arm around her head and you kissed her hair. "I'm not going anywhere love," you assured her.

When she pulled back from your hug, you noticed how tired she looks. Tired yet still so beautiful. In that moment you couldn't resist, you cupped her face and kissed her passionately. Her hand going straight to your hips and her tongue seeking entrance on your mouth. You giggled a little and that made her pull away with an extremely red face, and kiss-swollen lips.

"I'm sorry, not to be a mood killer but you really need to eat love," you said. You've always taken care of each other ever since you joined the Avengers, and you sure as hell won't stop now. She rolled your eyes at you before she's reaching towards her table for the food. When she opened the container, she literally threw you off her.

"Ouch," you groaned.

"Is this?" She asked unable to complete her question in utter disbelief.

"Yeah, I heard they're open for business again," you answered lightly rubbing your backside. Before you can recover, she tackled you in a hug again.

"Thank you  (Y/N). I love you so much," she said as she rubs her nose all over your face. Grabbing potstickers all the way over the other side of the country was definitely a good idea. Natasha looked so happy being able to eat one of her favorite food again.

"Alright settle down. Let's eat then let's go to bed," you said sitting on the table to eat with her.

***

The appearance of Scott Lang was the game changer you needed. You were hanging out at the compound with Natasha and Steve when he appeared at your gate. By the time he finished explaining who he is and what he can do you're reeling with too much information.

"We need Tony for this," you said with your arms crossed over your chest and knitted brows. You highly doubt Tony would help, there's too much on the line for him especially with Morgan around. God, just the thought of Morgan fills you with so much happiness and worry.

"We need to try baby," Natasha said, reading the worried expression on your face.

Morgan came barreling down the stairs and into your arms the moment you step in on their cabin. "(Y/N)!" She yelled as she wrapped her tiny legs around your torso and her little arms wrapping around your neck. You laughed and kissed the side of her face that you can reach.

"Hello princess," you greeted. She pulled back a little to look in your eyes and give you kisses all over your face just as Natasha walked in with Pepper.

"What? No kisses for Auntie Nat?" She asked in mock offense. Morgan giggled and jumped off of you and to Nat's arms.

"Auntie Nat!" She said as she obliged on giving more kisses. You and Pepper looked at the two with so much love. For all of the Black Widow's badass reputation, she's the softest around Morgan.

"Miss me?" Nat asked as she carries Morgan to the living room to sit down.

"Uh huh," Morgan answered nuzzling her head under your girlfriend's chin while playing at the ends of Natasha's hair.

"Room for one more?" you asked. Nat reached out her hand out to you. You smiled before walking towards the pair and sits as close to Natasha as possible. Tony walked in a minute after, he took one look at the three of you huddled together and engaging her daughter makes his heart swell.

"They're the cutest," Pepper said as she sidled next to him in her best date dress.

With the whole Thanos debacle and raising baby Morgan, date nights have been on paused for a while but now that she's a little older and a little easier to handle, Pepper and Tony decides they can leave her with you and Nat for a couple of hours. Besides Tony trusts you and Nat with his life, he definitely trusts you with Morgan's.

"Daddy!" Morgan squealed when she sees Tony but made no move to get off Natasha's lap. Tony smiled at her daughter before walking towards the couch.

"Behave while we're gone okay? We'll be back in a few hours," Tony said before kissing Morgan on top of her head. She giggled.

"I always behave daddy," she answered.

"Oh, of course, you are. I meant Auntie Nat and (Y/N)," Tony said laughing. You rolled your eyes at your best friend, which only makes him laugh louder. He leaned in and gave you a kiss on the head too.

"Go Stark before I change my mind about this," you said pretending to be annoyed.

“Like you have the power to resist her,” Tony teased before walking away. Of course, he’s right. You’re powerless over Morgan. All she really has to do is ask, and you’ll give her everything. You love your goddaughter like how you’ll love your future children with Natasha.

Morgan is hands down the easiest child to babysit. When Tony and Pepper left for their date, you all decided to watch a movie after dinner. Morgan chose Moana, again. You're lying on your back with Natasha squeezed in between you and the back of the couch, Morgan lying on top of you. Natasha noticed that Morgan fell asleep halfway through the movie.

"One day, after we get everyone back I want this with you," she whispered, careful not to wake Morgan up. You turned your head towards her and look her in the eyes.

"If you want it, you gotta put a ring on it," you couldn't help but joke. She chuckled before sobering up quickly.

"Would you marry me?" Natasha asked so softly. Without Morgan pressing you firmly down the couch, you would have pulled her towards you and kiss her senseless. You had to settle for reaching your hand to cup her beautiful, strong jaw.

"Natasha, you're my best friend, my partner, my rock, the half of my soul and the love of my life. There's nothing more I want than to marry you and have little Morgans' with you," you told her sincerely. She has tears in her eyes after you spoke. She leaned in and kiss you softly.

"We won't let anything happened to her, I promise," she continued trying to soothe both of your worries. Natasha loves Morgan as much as you do.

When you arrived at the cabin, Tony perked up when he saw you and Nat. His smile dropped and his posture tensed when he saw Steve and Scott. Your best friend is a genius in all sense of the word, he knows that all of you here in his humble cabin in the woods only means trouble. When Scott finished recounting his theory, Tony shuts it down immediately. He dismissed all of you and nearly threw you off his property.

"Tony," you said as you hang back a little after everyone file out.

"Why can't you leave me out of it?" He asked crossing his arms over his chest.

"I would if I could but I'm not as smart as you," you answered.

"Yes, you are! You're the second smartest person I know," he said. You smirked at that.

"Sure but I can't figure it out without you," you countered. He shook his head.

"There's too much at risk (Y/N)," he said looking away from you. When you followed his gaze, you saw Morgan talking with Natasha.

"I know. I'll do everything to protect her too," you answered simply before patting his shoulder and walking towards the others.

***

Tony figured how to stabilize the travel in the quantum realm, of course, he does. He's a Stark after all. The tests on the machines are proving to be trying even with experts like Scott and Bruce. You can sense everyone getting frustrated, and frustration hinders results.

"Again," Steve ordered.

"Hold up," you countered. Steve raised puffed his chest out, daring you to challenge his authority.

"No offense but we're not going to figure this out faster if we're all frustrated. So let's take a break, have lunch and convene after," you said.

Everyone looked at each other before nodding, Steve walked away without saying a word. You sighed, you never liked confrontation especially between teammates but Steve doesn't have the monopoly on decisions and he's not always right. Natasha walked towards you, you relaxed the moment you felt her arms wrapped around your waist and her chin parked in your shoulder.

"Wanna grab a bite?" she whispered on your ear with the voice she only uses inside your bedroom. You turned on her arms and looked at her smirking face.

"Yes, I'm actually in the mood for you," you teased back. You can feel the shudder that runs through her as you pushed her back against the table. You were an inch away from her lips when someone rudely cleared their throat behind you. You groaned, you wish you're wearing your suit so you can shoot whoever interrupted your moment with Natasha.

"Sorry to interrupt kid."

"Years after and you're still a cock block," you said without pulling away from Natasha. Natasha looked at Tony from your shoulder.

"Welcome back," Nat greeted him before planting a kiss on your shoulder and slowly untangling herself from you. With Tony on board providing his expertise, you're closer than ever to getting everyone back. The next step now is getting the rest of the team back.

***

The reunion of the remaining Avengers is bittersweet and short lived.

"Nat, where's Clint?" Bruce asked the moment everyone reappeared at the mouth of the portal.

Everyone held their breath waiting for Natasha to speak. If you're being honest, you think you know what happened and you had the foresight to catch Natasha before she fell on her knees.

"Clint is gone," she said while she sobs and holds on to you. She unclenched her fist to reveal the soul stone. "I'm so sorry love," you tried to soothe her.

With all the infinity stones at your hands, reversing the effects of the snap is a pressing matter. As superheroes, you're only afforded an hour to mourn the loss of your friend and teammate before duty calls. Tony gathered everyone as he assembled the infinity stones in one of his Iron suits spare arm. Bruce reckons he will wear the gauntlet as he has the best chance at surviving the radiation of the infinity stones.

Everyone held their breath as Bruce groaned in pain. It took a couple of minutes before he settled and was able to snap his finger. For a few seconds, it felt like the world stops before it starts again. Scott went straight to one of the windows to see if there are any noticeable changes.

"Guys, I think we did it," he said as he watches the sun seemingly shining brighter and butterflies fly in the garden.

You smiled at Tony, he put his hand up for a high five but gave him a quick hug instead. You turned towards Natasha and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug too. It was a glorious moment until a deep rumble shook the foundation of the compound. Before anyone of you can make sense of it, lasers shoot out from the sky and destroyed the compound.

You had a good mind to pull Natasha towards you to shield her from falling debris. Thanks to the suit Tony made for you, you're able to hold the weight of the debris pressing down at you and Natasha.

"Hey beautiful," you croak out. "Are you okay?" You asked, she just nodded at you.

You put your knee forward to leverage yourself and throw off the fallen part of the building away from you. You reached your hand towards Natasha to help her stand up. Standing side-by-side you surveyed the destruction and it was devastating to see your home reduced to rubble. You heaved a sigh of relief as one by one your teammates resurfaced through the wreckage.

"Everyone alright?" You heard Steve speak through your comms.

***

You're cursing in your head as you work with Natasha, Thor, Steve and Tony in containing Thanos but even with your combined powers and expertise, he's still a Titan skilled in combat. He's trashing everyone around like paper dolls. Even with your strength, and accelerated healing you can still feel the ache every time you take a hit from Thanos. Thanos pulled a combo move, which threw Thor and Tony back a few feet away. When Nebula opened the portal that transports their army on earth, you're standing next to Steve.

"Fuck me," is all you can say as you watch horde after horde of aliens come into the battlefield. Steve gulped but he is Captain America, he exudes hope even in the face of imminent death. Before any of you can make a move, a certain change in the air occurred behind you. When you chance a look over your shoulder, you felt a certain degree of relief as you watch numerous portals open behind you and came walking out of them are your previously dusted comrades.

You looked back towards Thanos and his horde feeling a little stronger. "Let's finish this," you said through your comms and you look across the field towards Tony and Natasha. They nodded their head before all of you broke off towards different direction to launch the attack. Chaos erupted all around you; Steve, Tony, and Thor took it upon themselves to take on Thanos.

Peter swung wildly in the air carrying the new gauntlet but he's being chased by multiple aliens from multiple directions. You wanted to get to him but you're swamped with enemies too. Thankfully, Carol landed in front of Peter, “got something for me, Peter?” The women on your team converged, you watch proudly as Natasha stood next to Carol. Carol nodded, they had a minute to look at each other before they charged forward; Carol flying directly to the location of the quantum portal.

Unfortunately, Thanos amidst being preoccupied, saw Carol flying in the direction of the portal. He threw his weapon and you watched in slow motion as it races Carol towards the goal. Captain Marvel is fast but Thanos is standing nearer to the portal, his weapon reached Scott's beat up van faster; effectively destroying it and throwing Carol off onto the other direction and dropping the gauntlet.

Thanos picked up the gauntlet and immediately wears it. Everything seems to be going in slow motion and silent, all you could hear is the muffled sound of chaos and Thanos groaning as the radiation creeps up his arm. Before Thanos could snap his fingers again to destroy the whole universe, Carol fought to take the gauntlet off him. He soon realized he can't take on the space girl with sheer brute strength, so he channeled the power stone on his other hand to blast Carol away.

***

You knew he would use one of the stones to attack Carol. Tony knew too as he looked at you from across the field. You're fighting way closer to Thanos than everyone else. You nodded at him before you swept your eyes through the field looking for Natasha. When you spotted her a few yards away, you tapped at your comms.

"Hey beautiful," you said as cheerfully as you could muster.

She looked up and met your eyes, she can see right through you even across the distance. She took one look at you and your proximity to Carol and Thanos, and she knows you're about to do something stupid.

"(Y/N)," she whispered with panic in her voice.

"I love you, Tasha, I'll see you in a minute," you said before running towards Thanos after he blasted Carol away.

You managed to hold on to the gauntlet before Thanos easily punched you a few steps back. He smirked before he raised his arm and snapped his fingers. Everyone who is close to your location held their breath. After a heartbeat without anything happening, he looked at you, down on your one knee with all the five of the infinity stones fitted on your suit. You looked straight into his eyes before you inserted the last stone in place.

"You shall not pass," you said through the excruciating pain of the radiation creeping up on the other half of your body before you snapped your fingers. In an instant, his horde of alien monstrosities disappeared in a cloud of dust. Thanos looked at you before he sat on rubble, accepting his defeat and failure before he too disappeared. Tony would have laughed at your dorkiness if you weren't screaming in pain.

Carol who was closest to you caught you before you totally fall. She carried you to the nearest stable surface and sat you against a wall. You're groaning and unresponsive to her calls. You're not sure if you've gone deaf or it really has gone quiet, your vision is blurry and all you can feel is the excruciating burning sensation at the right side of your body starting from your arm. You tried to look at your arm but your body isn't responding to any stimuli anymore.

Tony is immediately by your side with tears in his eyes. He cupped the unburnt side of your cheeks. "We won (Y/N/N), we won," he said crying. Steve had to hold him to steady him as he openly sobs next to you.

"Nat" you whispered in a last ditch effort to speak. At this point, you can't see anything anymore. You're barely conscious. Natasha nearly shoved Tony away as she runs to you. One look at you and she felt cold all over, tears immediately pooled in her eyes.

"Baby, look at me. (Y/N), look at me," she pleaded. Her voice cut through the darkness that's slowly swallowing you whole. You stood in the darkness and let her voice soothe you.

"It's okay, I'm going to be okay. You can rest now," Natasha continues as she put her hand on your chest.

"We will meet again," she said before she leaned in and kiss you. You wished you could see her one last time but the darkness around you is too thick. Natasha was one of the best things that happened in your life, you know she's going to hurt for a while but you know she will be taken care of. Tony will make sure of that, and you let that thought comfort you as you succumb to the darkness.

Natasha can taste her own tears as she watches the light in your eyes finally go out. She was trained to never show her emotions at all cost but you came into her life and barreled through her defenses with your stupid jokes, bright smiles, and steady presence. She like you the moment she met, she knew she loves you the first time you protected her on a mission that almost costs you your life. Wanda who reached the scene held Natasha as she openly sobbed in front of your lifeless body.

***

When the rest of the Avengers came back to the cabin, Morgan immediately wrapped her arms around her father. She looked around the faces crowding at their front yard. She knew half of the faces as some of them comes to visit once in a while, the other half are strangers to her.

"Daddy, where's (Y/N)?" She immediately asked when she finished looking around.

When Tony didn't answer, she turned in his arms and look at her mother. Pepper just smiled at her, then she turned to Natasha. Natasha had to use a tremendous amount of energy not to cry the moment their eyes met. Morgan asked her dad to put her down, she walked slowly towards Natasha. Nat kneels down in front of her, she's a very smart kid, she didn't need words to know what happened.

She caressed Nat's face with her tiny little hands before speaking, "it's okay Auntie, I'll take care of you. I promised (Y/N) I will." Nat whispered and gently pulled Morgan towards her. Morgan instantly wrapped her arms around her neck.

Tony and Natasha decided to hold your funeral at the cabin. They bought one of those biodegradable urns that'll turn your ashes into fertilizer for a tree. Morgan picked the spot in front of their house where she used to pitch her little tent as the place to plant the tree with your ashes. The gathering is intimate, mostly just your team including some of your friends from space. There's no formal ceremony, Natasha opted to have no eulogy as the pain of not having you around anymore is still too raw.

She surmises it'll feel raw and painful for the rest of her life. She got everyone back but lost who mattered to her most. When it's time, Tony dug the hole in which Morgan will help Natasha plant your tree. Nat silently cried as she put the biodegradable urn on the ground, Morgan helped her cover it up. Nat stood up but Morgan stayed on her spot, touching the freshly covered dirt.

"Bezopasnogo prokhozhdeniya v vashikh puteshestviyakh, do nashey posledney poyezdki na zemlyu. Mozhem li my vstretit'sya snova" Morgan enunciated the words as best as she could. Natasha stopped dead on her tracks.

"Where did you learn that?" Nat asked gently. Morgan looked at her.

"(Y/N) taught me some Russian when you're out with mom and dad sometimes," Morgan answered.

Natasha wrapped her in another hug. Of course, you did. You learned Russian to communicate with her earlier on your friendship. It's one of the things you did that made her fall in love with you more. Wanda and Pepper ushered you towards the house where everyone gathered. Fury walked towards Natasha on the couch and handed her a little device.

"I found it in one of my safe we salvaged at the compound," he said simply. Natasha looked to Tony, not knowing what to do with it. Tony pressed some buttons on it and there appeared a hologram you.

"Hey, is this working?" Your hologram said tapping at the camera before leaning against a table. "Okay. I think it's working," you continued while looking at the camera. You look so relax, beautiful, and alive. Tony held Natasha’s hand.

"This won't take long, Tasha will be back soon. So," your hologram paused.

"If you're watching this, I'm probably dead. I hid this at Fury's safe because even though I trust Tony with my life, I don't trust him to let me go when it comes down to a decision. Anyway, I just want to say a few things. Nick, thank you for believing in me all those years back. I couldn’t imagine what would have happened if you didn’t trust that I can do good. To the Avengers, thank you for giving me a family and a purpose. You guys are the best team anyone could ask for, even though you all can be annoying sometimes,” you paused as you let out a laugh.

“Tony, please tell Morgan I love her so much. She’s the most wonderful child in the world, I can’t believe he’s yours. Must be all Pepper’s genes, thank her for that,” you joked and laughed some more. God, hearing your laugh again made the tears Natasha was holding off run down freely on her face.

“I love you too, you're my best friend and my brother. Take care of Natasha for me," your hologram croaked out.

"Tasha," you said her name like a prayer. You looked directly at the camera. It took a couple of heartbeats before you spoke again. Clearly saying goodbye to the love of your life is the hardest thing you would ever do in this life. Probably harder than dying because you know you would die if it means Natasha would live and be safe.

"I'm sorry that I'm gone, Tasha. I wish we had more time. Ask Morgan to give you the box I asked her to keep safe for me,” Tony hit the pause button and looked at Morgan.

Her daughter jumped off Pepper’s lap and made a beeline to her room. She came back with a black velvet box. Natasha gasped as Morgan handed it to her. Her heart nearly stopped as she looked at the simple titanium ring. ‘I love you, I’ll see you in a minute’ is engraved on the inside of the ring. Natasha cried as she pulls the ring out of the box, and slipped it on her left ring finger.

“I wish I had more time to give that to you personally. I asked Morgan to keep it safe for after we get everyone back. I wish we had more time to actually have a wedding. The only thing I want more than to spend my life with you is to know that you’ll survive this war. Please know that I did what I did to ensure that you will live.” your hologram messaged continued.

“I’m sorry that this might take more than a minute but please remember that I love you with all that I am until my last breath. I will love you and only you from this life and the next, in all other timelines and all alternate universes. May we meet again, my love," you said before walking towards the camera and shutting it off.

Bezopasnogo prokhozhdeniya v vashikh puteshestviyakh, do nashey posledney poyezdki na zemlyu. Mozhem li my vstretit'sya snova

"Safe passage in your travels, until our last trip to the earth. May we meet again"

[straightouttaneptune]

It girl pt. 6 - They know

Pairing: Mentor!Natasha Romanoff x Mentee!Reader, Platonic!Avengers x reader, Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: This chapter is just angst. Maybe a little fluff in the end if you squint hard enough. But the Bonus Scenes are pure fluff. xx

Summary: Natasha had once joked about picking a random new recruit trainee to teach all her skills since Tony had recently become Peter’s mentor. Fury sees this as a legitimate idea, and asks Natasha to choose her protège, code name: “it girl”.

A/N: The long-ass series has finally come to an end. Thank you to all the supporters, and please stay till the end if you wanna read some deleted scenes ;)

Prologue  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5

———————————————————————

The remaining Avengers returned to the compound completely defeated, no one dared to utter a word as they retreated. For the first time in many years, they lost. Tony's whereabouts were still unknown, and the only string of hope left was the pager that Fury left behind. 

The encounter with Carol Danvers, Tony returning to Earth weak and crushed, it only furthered their sorrow. The realization that Thanos had committed mass-murder on the universe, and they couldn't do anything to stop him. Even their last hope burned out, as Thanos had already gotten rid of the stones.

Natasha coped with losing you like how she always did. Built a thicker wall around her than before, spent her time in the gym and working. Every time she walked by your room in the compound, her mind replayed your smaller figure, twirling around the room in the ballgown you found in the closet. 

She opens the door to land her eyes on the closet door, which you took the liberty of painting the Black Widow logo on it. She wipes a stray tear with her thumb, her soft sniffles loud in the soundless room.

Because of her devoted work, the orphans were safe with shelter and food. The Avengers was running smoothly even though the men just abandoned their work. When the sun shone through the glass walls and the light reflected off of her computer, it was fine. But once the moon rose in the dark night, her ears played cruel tricks on her, making her hear the little hums and laughs of yours. 

"Natashen'ka. That's actually a pretty cool nickname, Ms. Nat."

"Haha, anything to get you to stop calling me 'Ms. Nat'."

During nights like this, she often found herself in the Philosophic room you spent so much time in, looking at little notes and gadgets left behind by you. MINT was a great listener, showing Natasha multiple mini videos of you blowing things up and freaking out. 

You allowed yourself into Natasha's heart in the short span of a year, and she found herself welcoming you into her fragile heart like a daughter she never had. In the 5 years without you, she never forgot about you. She didn't put the stocked up cookies in your cupboard away, and she didn't even think of cleaning up your room in the compound. 

But more and more, she started to heal herself, gradually coming to softly smile when she saw your bedroom door instead of crying.

But everything changed when Scott Lang pulled up into the Avengers Compound, with what seemed like an impossible plan to save the universe. She couldn't give that chance up. Even if it was a one in a million possibility, she wanted to give you a second chance. You were an extraordinary girl, and you were going to do great things someday. She knew that ever since she appointed you 'it girl' of the Avengers.

So she had to speak up when Tony rejected her, Steve and Scott's idea. 

"Tony, think about the kids. Our kids. Please, think about it." Tony instantly understood what kids she was talking about, and his hardened face faltered.

"Our kids are gone." Tony went back into his house, clearly rattled. It was evident that Tony had a hard time dealing with Peter's death like Natasha had with you. 

Which was why it came as no surprise to Natasha when Tony came back to the compound, with his time heist machine all figured out. The one she didn't expect, though, was being in this situation. 

"Natasha, you can't. Y/N needs you." Clint sobbed, being held up by Natasha's grappling hook. He tightened his grip on her, who only had Clint to hold on to from falling to her death. 

"She's strong, Clint. She's- so strong." She choked back a sob, readying herself for what she was going to do. 

"No, no... Damn you!" Clint's eyes shot up to the ominous clouds, taunting him to let go of his best friend. 

"Let me go." Natasha looked at him in the eyes, pure determination in her eyes. Her mind replayed every moment of her life, trying to remember every Avenger's smiling faces and carving them in her mind. 

"It's okay." She snaked her hands away from his, kicking against the cliff to jump off. She felt her stomach drop from the fall, her beautiful smile gracing on her lips. She closed her eyes and imagined you, your big doe eyes looking up at her with a twinkle in your gaze. She couldn't remember why you looked so happy, but your smile never left her as the air from her lungs got knocked out, followed by falling into a long, sweet sleep. 

Clint could only watch as she fell, hitting the ground lifelessly. Tears fell down his cheeks, sobbing uncontrollably before he fell unconscious as well. 

☾

As soon as you walked out of that portal, the first person you looked for was Natasha. When you couldn't seem to locate where she was, you just assumed that she was somewhere in the big crowd. The battlefield was big, and it was normal for you to not be able to see your teammate. 

You were left clueless, even as you watched Tony's life end before your eyes. You held Peter in a tight embrace, balancing him while his shoulders trembled as he cried for the fallen hero. You walked in silence as Steve carried Tony into what remained of the compound, still too busy comforting Peter to notice Natasha wasn't there. No one wanted to tell you, for they saw how broken Peter looked then, and they didn't want to do this to you too.

But ultimately, when Peter moved from you to beside Tony, you glanced around to look for and hug Natasha. Only then, did Clint work up the courage to tell you the truth. You stood in front of him for a few second unmoving, your mind completely frozen and malfunctioning. 

"She-she sacrificed herself for the stones." 

"No." Your hand flew up to your mouth, shaking your head as tears pooled in your eyes. The tip of your nose burned, and you found yourself falling on your knees. Your knees sunk into the dirt, teardrops threatening to spill. You let out a strangled cry, muffled by your hands. Steve was right by your side, pulling you into a hug as you broke down in his arms. 

"I know, Y/N, I know." Steve was one of Natasha's best friends, and he was one of the first people you met in the compound. He understood the pain, that hopelessness of realizing that you'd never be able to see her again. 

“Natashen'ka.” You mumbled in between sobs, tears soaking Steve's tac suit. But he didn't mind, he stayed on the ground crying with you. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night, and only in your dreams did you find a little peace. That only lasted so long before you were woken up by Steve, who handed you a white letter and a cup of tea. 

You thanked Pepper mentally for giving you a clean change of clothes, walking out of Tony's cabin in the crisp weather. Peter sat on the porch, looking out into the small lake. 

"Hi, Pete." You greeted, your usual chirpy tone gone. 

"Y/N. I'm so glad you're okay." Even though the loss, he still smiled at you, pulling you into a warm embrace. 

"I'm glad you're okay too, Peter." You sighed into his neck, comforted by his usual scent and the feeling of his chest against you. 

Later in the day when the Avengers were all gone to mourn in their own ways, you climbed atop the roof to collect yourself and read Natasha's letter.

My it girl.

If you ever read this, I won’t be around anymore, I’m guessing.

“Ohmygod! I DID IT!!” You squealed and jumped, eyes burning into the perfect shot at the paper shooting board.

“That was amazing!” Natasha laughed, your energy radiating off and rubbing onto her.

“You're already better than Thor.” She traced the bullet hole, grinning brightly back at you. You felt laughter bubbling in your gut, your mind replaying that one time Thor had to try shooting an enemy in battle. He crushed the poor magnum with his iron grip, letting out strings of curse words saying Midguardian weapons were too tiny.

I want you to know that- god, this sounds cheesy. But, you’re my legacy, Y/N.

I’ve done many things in my life. You know that. 

But I can say with certainty, that the best thing I ever did, was choosing you that day.

“I’m sorry! Ms. Nat, please.” Your eyes welled with fresh tears, tugging onto Natasha’s suit sleeves desperately.

“I told you that it was too dangerous.” She turned back around at you and sighed, glaring at the now destroyed HYDRA hideout.

“I’m sorry. I just thought-“

“Thought that you could go in there and save everyone?”

“That’s what you would’ve done!”

“But you can’t do the things I’d do! If anything happened to you, I-“ She trailed off, hands flying up to her head, slicking back her debris-filled hair in annoyance.

“I wouldn’t know what to do then.”

So don’t cry, my Y/N.

Because I’m not gone.

I’m still here.

By your side, always.

You felt like your heart was being beaten with sharp blades over and over again, but you found it in yourself to smile at the letter. By your side, always. You gulped down another wave of intense sobs, looking up at the bright sky. 

You wanted nothing more than for Natasha to pull you in a hug, for her to feed you Wanda's cookies to stop you from crying. Your heart felt empty, glassy eyes searching for purpose in the cloudless blue sky. 

"Y/N." You turned around to see Peter, standing a few feet away from you with a concerned look. He walked over to you and sat down, wordlessly wrapping his arm your shoulder and letting you lean into him. 

"I wish they had a way to know that we're safe, alive because of them." You whispered, afraid that your voice would crack if you spoke. 

"They know." 

BONUS DELETED SCENES

A collection of scenes that were actually written in the stories, but got cut because some of them didn't make sense.

"Where are you two going?" Tony caught you and Peter trying to sneak into one of SHIELD's jets, and you giggled as you turned around. 

"Busted..." Peter grinned at you, the two of you trying to suppress your laughs.

"We're going to... well, see dem aliens." You said suddenly serious, determined eyes locked with Tony's. 

"What?" 

"It's the area 51 raid, sir!" Peter almost screamed, way too excited for his own good. 

"But I own area 51? People are going to raid my property?!" Tony shrieked, running away back into the compound. 

--

"Y/N, who do you think is better looking, me or the spawn of Satan?" Sam rushed up to you, smiling as he pointed at himself, then Bucky.

"Spawn of Satan?" You questioned, watching Bucky with a flower crown eating plums innocently. 

"It's me, right? Hey, Y/N said it's me!" Sam ran away yelling, Bucky narrowing his eyes at you. You raised your hand up, shaking your head confused.

--

"So, the gossip is, Bucky and Steve are totally into each other." Wanda pointed out as she took a bite out of her cookie. 

"Fascinating." You nodded, eyes focused on Wanda dishing out all of the Avengers' gossip.

"But Tony and Steve were like a thing before, so that caused this whole Civil War."

"I don't think-" Vision furrowed his artificial brows and tried to intervene, but Sam shushed him and Wanda continued.

"Oh! Do you want me to spill the tea on Thor and Bruce?"

"Spill!"

--

"So, Y/N. What do you think about Peter?" Natasha's voice had a hint of mischievousness in it, making you redden immediately. " You can't lie to a spy, Y/N."

"I think he's a great friend." Maybe an average person may not have been able to lie to her, but you were fantastic at manipulation. Short reply usually indicated that the speaker was telling the truth, rather than a long explanation.

"Hmm... Okay, then. You won't mind if I told you he likes you. Such a shame..."

"He likes me?" Ugh! A slip-up. She knew now. 

"I knew it! TONY!!" She skipped out of your room and left you internally panicking. 

--

"I say we watch gone with the wind today." It was the Avengers movie night, and you were on the couch snuggled next to Peter. Tony prepared the snacks, which meant that it was as perfect as it could be. You didn't know that there was a limited flavor ice cream named after Tony until today.

"Steve, we've watched that movie 4 times this week."

"It's a great movie!"

"Why don't we watch justice league?" Clint said, making everyone turn to him with crazy looks in their eyes. 

"It's way too dark." You said, shaking your head. 

"But it's supposed to be-" Before Clint could protest, you shook your head.

"No, I mean it's literally too dark. I can't see a goddamn thing."

The Avengers laughed and nodded in agreement, going back to searching for a good movie. 

"Steve, she said a bad language word." Tony squeaked out, and everyone burst out laughing as Steve shook his head. 

"This is literally never going away, Rogers." Natasha chuckled before she took a swig out of her beer bottle. 

--

Thank you so much for reading 'it girl', to every reader who liked/commented/asked to be on taglist, you guys motivated me to continue this far to chapter 6. I hope the ending wasn't too brutal. If it's any consolation, in this story I intended for Steve to stay in the present. Love you muffins xx  - Your Nep<3

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