#but anyway yes CLAPS HANDS back to regularly scheduled programming

[tenacquity]

sometimes i remember i'm on a public platform where people perceive me and my writing and

true horror sinks in

but the show must go on ヽ(ヅ)ノ

[ranger-jedi-knight]

A New Hero Ch 10

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887313/chapters/55118368 Tag list: @vixen-uchiha

Ok, so here’s the next chap. So either this chap or the next will be the last chap for 15 yo Mari. I’ll say in the chap if Mari’s 16 or not. Anyways, back to our regularly scheduled program!!

Mari squealed as she ran down the stairs to the bakery where Xander and her parents were working. “Mama! Papa! Xan!” she shouted as she entered the bakery and the three looked over at her curiously. Several customers were also curious as to why she shouted excitedly. “I won the Wayne Enterprises Class Internship Contest! My class is going to Gotham!” she yelled and Xander pulled Mari into a hug and spun her happily.

“No way!” he shouted, setting her down.

“Yes! I’ll be there when you reunite with your sisters!” Mari said smiling happily and Xander pulled her into a hug once more while everyone in the bakery clapped.

“How long will you be there?” Sabine asked and Mari smiled nervously.

“It would last a year. We’d be going to Gotham Academy and the Wayne’s will pay for our hotel,” Mari explained and her parents shared a look.

“It’s very dangerous in Gotham. Listen to anything our friends there say, ok?” Sabine said and Mari nodded.

“I will. Don’t forget I can protect myself, mama,” Mari pointed out and Sabine nodded. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I like seeing my little girl fight,” Sabine argued and Mari had to nod at that.

“Of course. Don’t worry, I’ll be safe,” Mari assured and Sabine nodded once more.

“I know. When do you and your class leave?”

“After I tell them, we leave a week after our last day of school,” Mari answered and they nodded understanding.

“Want to tell Lila and the others early?” Xander asked and Mari smiled at that.

“Ooh! Yes! Come on!” Mari said excitedly grabbing Xander’s hand and pulled him up the stairs. Xander yelped in surprise as Mari pulled him.

“Slow down! We don’t need to risk tripping running up the stairs!” Xander shouted as they went and Mari finally slowed down with a sheepish look.

“My bad,” she said and they took the stairs at a slower pace. They soon reached their home and Mari pulled her phone out. “You call Lila, Kim, and Adrien. I’ll get Chloe and Nino here!”

“Should we get Max?” Xander asked and Mari nodded.

“That’d be great! I’ll call him,” Mari said and for the next few minutes, they called them together. “Nino’s busy at school. He’s discussing and filming a scene with Alix and a couple of others. So he’ll learn the good news in class tomorrow,” Mari said and Xander nodded understanding. Soon, the others arrived and were sat down on the couch and watched Mari as she vibrated in place. Xander was smiling next to her shaking his head.

“So? What’s the news, Mari?” Adrien asked leaning against the armrest, his bag which was suspiciously lumpy, rested next to his leg.

“What’s in the bag?” she counters and she feels Tikki laughing in her bag.

“Some clothes,” Adrien replied.

“Why do you have clothes with you?”

“For those days when we’ve studied too long and I don’t want to go home,” he replied easily and Mari nodded.

“Fine whatever. The others do it too already,” Mari replied shaking her head. She can’t count the number of times she’s come across an article of clothing that wasn’t hers or Xander’s in her, theirs really, room. Though from the look on Adrien’s face, she’s wary about what’s to come. “Anyways, I have some great news!” Mari said and the others smiled at that while Xan smirked.

“What is it?” Lila asked.

“Our class won the Wayne Enterprises Class Internship Contest!” Mari shouted happily and the others froze for a bit before shouting themselves.

“No way! Really!?” Lila asked and Mari nodded. “That’s amazing! When does it start?”

“We leave for it a week after the end of the school year,” Mari answered and that had the group nodded. “So I’m thinking that at the end of the year, the filming is done. Do you agree?”

“That sounds good. We could even be finished sooner if we wish. How would you want to end the film, Lila, Max?” Max said looking between everyone who nodded at his reasoning.

“Well, I think the best way would be me being exposed. But do you guys agree with that?” Lila offered. They shared a look and nodded agreement.

“Ya, that sounds like the best way it could end. Let me just text Nino,” Max said pulling his phone out and sending off the text. “He said it sounds good. We can do it tomorrow if we know how to go about it.”

“What would make sense? My character has already told them a few times and they didn’t believe me. Adrien’s said it once, for some reason, and they didn’t believe it either. What would get them to believe it?” Mari asked and the group shared a look.

“What if your ~boyfriend~ came and showed that it was wrong?” Chloe said teasingly and Mari started blushing.

“Damian isn’t my boyfriend!” Mari shouted flustered which had the two blondes laughing.

“But that could work,” Xander spoke and Mari slowly nodded agreement.

“Yes, it could work out. We’ll just need to wait a few days for him to get here,” Mari replied giving a small nod and the others smiled at her.

“Um, Mari. Can I quickly ask you something?” Xander asked and Mari nodded.

“What is it?” she asked, her head tilted to the side.

“In private?”

“Oh, yes. Guys, can you go downstairs?” Mari asked and they nodded agreement, knowing this was important fo him. Once they were gone, she closed the hatch and placed her hand on his shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Is....is your Damian the same Damian from the League?” he asked and Mari’s eyes widened. She had told him bout her friends, not telling their names, but enough about them. Especially Jason and Damian since some days he needed more and what better than to tell him than them? Mari nodded.

“Yes. My Damian was apart of the League when he was a child. His older brother Jason was also in it. But he was taken like you were,” she explained and he nodded slowly.

“Talia had talked about him. Had talked about bringing him back. Said I’d do it,” Xander mumbled looking at his hands. “Since I was healed, she had me training. Training to fight Damian and bring him back in case he didn’t come willingly. I-I don’t-I don’t know how I’ll react when I see him,” he continued and Mari pulled him into a hug.

“It’s ok Xander. Damian will understand if you react badly. He knows how his mother works. He’ll definitely understand if you tell him. So don’t worry. You can wait to see him until we’re home so that nothing happens,” Mari said and Xander nodded into her shoulder and hugged her tightly. It was a bit awkward since he had to bend over. His 5’9” height was a disadvantage when she comforted him standing since she was only 5’1”.

“You think? He won’t be suspicious?”

“No. He was there when you died and taken. He knows you had no choice. Even if he’s suspicious I’ll slap some sense into him,” Mari said eliciting a laugh from Xander. He pulled back from the hug and smiled at Mari.

“Thanks, Mari,” he replied and she smiled at him.

“No problem! Why don’t we go celebrate with ice cream!” she said opening the hatch and walking down as she said ice cream. Her friends shouted their agreement.

“André’s?” he asked and they all nodded frantically. “Ok, let’s go find him then,” he said and it was redundant since Max already had his phone out looking with Kim looking over his shoulder.

“He was at the Eiffel Tower a few days ago when I took Max out,” Kim mumbled and everyone nodded at that. They all knew André’s rule of no place twice within a week.

“Got it! He’s at the Trocadéro!” Max called and the group ran out of Mari’s home and hoped they wouldn’t miss André. They soon reached the Trocadéro and looked around frantically hoping to find him. They cheered when they saw him and ran over. André smiled as he watched them run over to them.

“Ah, welcome back!” he said happily as they lined up for ice cream. He beamed at Mari as he took a cone out and started scooping. “Blackberry for his life in chaos. Matcha for his emerald eyes that make your heart stutter!” he held the cone out to her and she smiled.

“Thank you, André!” Mari said stepping aside as Chloe and Adrien stepped up.

“Ah, Chloe and Adrien! Blue Cotton Candy for his expressive sky blue eyes! Passion Fruit and Mango for his outgoing personality! May you see your missing love soon,” André said smiling to the couple who nodded agreement.

“So do we, André. Thank you!” Adrien said as they stepped aside and sat down next to Mari. The three were already eating their ice cream as they waited for the last four to get theirs.

“Ah, Max, Kim! A love so sweet between you. Top Shelf Sunday for your love and loyalty to each other! Peanut Butter Cup for a lasting bond between you!” the couple smiled as they took the cone nodding to him. Xander gestured for Lila to go first and the girl smiled and nodded, stepping closer to André. “Ah, Lila! I see love in your heart! While Lightning(dark choc with mint) for his hard past. Blueberry Cheesecake for his silver eyes that calm you! And Toffee Coffee for hair,” he sang out before handing Lila the cone. “I believe you’ll soon realize,” he continued and Lila blushed as she looked at the cone.

“Thank you, André,” Lila said shyly with a smile which he returned. Mari and Chloe were smirking at Lila while Adrien smiled. He didn’t know but his girlfriend would tell him in private.

“Oooh,” Mari whispered and Lila’s blush darkened. Xander shook his head at Mari’s reaction as he stepped up to André next.

“A newcomer! You must be Xander, Marinette’s brother,” he said and Xander nodded. “I see love in you. Chocolate for her hair. Mint Chip for her lovely peridot eyes! And Orange for her bright outlook!” he sang out happily and Xander smiled as he took the cone.

“Thank you, André,” Xander said and André smiled and waved.

“May love come your way and brighten your life,” he sang as the group walked to find somewhere to sit. Mari and Chloe turned their smirks to him and he blushed, looking away from them. They soon found a table to sit and the two couples sat across from each other leaning on one another. Xander sat down and Lila sat next to him while Mari sat across from them.

“Mint chip, huh?” Mari teased looking at Xander.

“Blueberry Cheesecake,” Chloe said looking at Lila. the two blushed and looked away from both the two teasings and from each other.

“Who could have those eye colors that we don’t know?” Kim asked as he took a bit of the ice cream while Max moved his glasses up.

“It could also be someone we know,” Max added and Kim nodded at that.

“Any crushes we should know about?” Chloe asked looking between the two.

“We don’t have to tell you that,” Lila said quickly.

“Why not? We could help you get a date with them,” Kim said and the two looked at each other before looking away once more blushing.

“Even if I did have a crush, which I don’t, I doubt they’d want to date me if they knew,” Xander said pretty quietly which had everyone looking at him sadly.

“Don’t say that Xan,” Mari said reaching a hand over and placing it over Xander’s.

“Why not? It’s true,” he replied. Lila frowned at that. She didn’t know his whole past, but she knew that anyone would be lucky to date him.

“No, it’s not. You’re a great guy, Xan. If someone can’t see that then they’re an idiot,” Lila said looking intently at Xander who looked shocked as well as having a faint blush on his cheeks.

“T-thanks, Lila,” Xander stuttered out looking at his ice cream. After that, they ate in silence. Mari and Chloe’s smirks grew thou at the display between the two.

Ok, so here’s the next chap!! I hope u enjoy it!! N i wanna know, can u guys guess the ice creams? Theyre on characters in the story! Anyways, i hope u had fun with the new update and see u next time!! -Love Willa<3<3<3

[mx-writer]

Steve Rogers (Captain America) x Reader

WARNING(S): mature content: cussing self-degrading, and selfharm (there is nothing too graphic or gory)

You Should Know: The reader - you - is written as gender-neutral, so no matter your gender, you can be Steve's lover! Also, you are an insecure chubby person. (I know, a huge cliché, but I promise to make a confident chubby reader insert soon, too! And other body types and such!) Steve refers to you as pretty and gorgeous, which are usually attached strictly to femininity, but guys can be pretty, too, even if they are super masculine in appearance. If you don't like the way I worded things, switch the words to handsome or something in your mind. Sorry if you don't like how I made Steve describe you!

Prompt(s): A song inspired me! I don't remember what it was exactly, hhhhhh. It's on my Wattpad, though!

If these themes and ideas make you uncomfortable in anyway, you really do not have to read.

Thank you!

You weren't always the most attractive person, in your eyes - or even a little attractive. Your baby fat never seemed to have disappeared, and you just keep putting on the pounds. You gain weight so easily, and even when you try to diet properly and exercise daily, your weight is stuck in the same range.

With a frustrated sigh, you step off the little scale. You only pray that it's broken - I gained another two pounds! I mean, of course I did! I'm such a pig!

You squeeze at your stomach, face, and thighs in the mirror. Who'd ever want to look at this gross sack of flesh? You turn so your side is facing the mirror, your stomach sticking out. You suck in as hard as you can, but can only hold your breath for a few seconds before you let out a heavy exhale, stomach dropping back to its origin position.

Your eyes sting with the familiar feeling of tears about to spill over. You slam your fist into your hip to distract yourself from your bad thoughts. A hiss escapes from between your teeth as you cringe at the pain. You had forgotten there was already a bruise there.

Flailing your arms around for a moment, you force a smile onto your lips. You needed to get ready for work. There's no point in sitting here and moping around. You are a busy person, you don't have much time for a pity party.

After hurriedly throwing on your nice work clothes, making sure they cover you up almost completely, and focusing your thoughts on only professional things, you dash out of the apartment complex and hail a cab.

Popping into the main elevator, you head up to your office - well, your little corner of Mr. Stark's office. Even though you've worked there for a couple years now, you still can't believe you landed the job. All you are is a secretary, and all you do is take calls that Mr. Stark ignores elsewhere in the building and file away papers and documents (most everything is digital, but he likes to keep some things down on paper), but it's still an exciting job. After all, you are working for the Tonk Stark - fucking Ironman.

You take a seat at your desk, removing your blazer.

Now, this is the worst part of the job: the waiting. Usually, calls come in every few minutes, or Mr. Stark shoves a giant stack of papers into your hands to sort through, but then there are the slow days - days that you are grateful for, but you get so bored. These days are always random, popping up whenever you least expect it, and nowhere to be seen when you most desire them.

With a sigh, you let yourself relax into your chair. May you could get an extra few minutes of shut-eye. As soon as your eyes drift shut, a door loudly opens, causing you to immediately sit up straight, trying to look presentable.

In walked Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner. They were having a heated discussion about something you simply couldn't understand, like they were speaking another language. You didn't allow yourself to stare at them, quickly shifting your vision to the blank screen of your computer.

"__________, I need yesterday's papers! Get the last file from last night, the blue one." Mr. Stark piped up at you aggravatedly.

Quickly standing and sifting through the filing cabinet, you found the thick file and rushed it over to the two men. He ripped it from your hands, frantically flipping through the papers you oh-so-carefully organized last night. Finally, he yanked out a packet of papers and tossed it to Dr. Banner, who barely caught it.

"You can check the math all you want, Bruce, but you know I'm right."

Dr. Banner sighed, "I just want to make sure you didn't slip up, like when - "

"Nah-ah-ah! I almost never slip up! Even geniuses make little mistakes now and again."

Dr. Banner rolled his eyes, "At least you're finally admitting you were wrong. Took you long enough."

Mr. Stark returned the gesture, "I may he an asshole, but you love me all the same."

"You keep telling yourself that; whatever helps you sleep at night." Dr. Banner turned to face you, causing you to tense up, "Do you get the chance to check that document out?"

"Yes, sir! I'll send it back to you now." You head to your computer, quickly turning it on and booting up the file, "Were you two up all night, again? Want some coffee, Docter, Mr. Stark?" You sent the document back to Dr. Banner, flicking your eyes back to the two.

Dr. Banner groaned, "That sounds amazing right now." Mr. Stark, nodded, leaning back into his desk chair.

You swiftly head for the elevator, going down to the next level. You never really understood why he didn't get a coffee machine for his office. He has all the money in the world, what's one little coffee maker going to do? Maybe it's an excuse to get you out of the office, so he can speak with whoever alone.

The ding of the elevator breaks through your thoughts, and you rush over to make the coffee. You look around to make sure you were alone before hopping up onto the countertop. You could feel the cool surface through your pants, giving you goosebumps.

You look down at your lap, and immediately regret it. The fabric of your pants seemed to strain over your thick thighs. You scowled in disgust at yourself, squeezing at them. There was no space between them, all the way down until your knees. Sitting on a flat, hard surface only made them look bigger. You remember this morning, and aim your fist at the bruise on your hip. You curse under your breath at the sting, clenching your jaw. You can deal with the pain. It's your fault you're like this. Just suck it up.

Taking a deep breath, you slid off the counter. You needed to get your mind back on track. You poured three cups of coffee, placing them on a tray, and carefully hurried back to the office.

As the day came to a close, you groggily headed home. Your eyes hurt from staring at a computer screen all day, and you felt a slight burn in your calves from running up and down the tower to take Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner coffee and papers and blueprints and blah blah blah...

You sluggishly wash up and climb into bed.

Let's change this up a bit, shall we?

(third person point of view)

Meanwhile, at the Avengers Tower:

"You are an ass." Steve groans into his cup.

"Language, Cap." Tony, smirked to himself. Some of the others in the room laugh.

"You're never letting that go, are you?"

"Nope." Tony popped the 'p', taking a swig from his own glass, "You should just admit it, already. You can't keep your eyes off of them."

Steve rolled his eyes, stubbornly biting back his nerves, trying to reel in his annoyance, "They're your secretary, Tony. This isn't a child's game. It'd be highly inappropriate for me to desire them in any way."

"Tony's got a point," Bruce chips in, "Your glances may be subtle, but they are far too frequent for you to deny."

Steve only glares at him.

Clint, from the corner, whispers in a sing-song voice, "Chubby chaser!"

Steve's breath hitches, hairs on the end of his neck standing up. He chose to keep his mouth shut.

Tony pipes back up, "They're my employee - which makes me sort of like their dad. It wouldn't be all that bad if you made a move, Cap. As long as you don't distract each other during work hours, and keep everything PG around us."

Images of not-so-PG things flash through Steve's mind. He's suddenly flustered, so he snaps back to defend himself in some way, "Shut it, Tony." That'll have to do.

"Make me." Tony retorted childishly. Steve sent him a glare.

Thor, after being quiet through this whole interaction, finally decides to pitch in his own two cents, "I have experienced earthly love, myself, Steve. Gives you something more to fight for. It could be good for you."

"You, too? Really?" Steve was actually surprised that he had said anything like that, but his annoyance surpassed the shock.

Tony clapped Thor on the back, "Glad you're on my side," he smirked over at Steve, "You know, the right one."

Steve stood from his seat, "I'm going to bed."

This time, very unexpectedly, Natasha is the one to speak up, "I think you should go for it. How could anyone turn the Captain down?"

Steve paused, then went on his way to his room.

Now back to our regularly scheduled program:

Another day, another nickel. You sigh, standing in front of the mirror. Why do I keep doing this to myself? You gently run your fingers over the bruises. They seem to be everywhere - your hips, thighs, ribs, chest, arms... What's wrong with me?

This morning, you can't seem to hold back the tears. They silently fall from your eyes, then down your chest. It's not like anyone is going to see me bare, anyway. Who would ever wish for such a disgusting thing? What does another few bruises matter?

You take a deep breath, and slam your fist into your thigh as hard as you can. You let out a choked sob. Okay, maybe that was a little too hard for a work day - shit, I have work!

You jump into the shower, making it as hot as you can bear to numb your brain and to disguise the fact that you were crying.

Now in your usual seat at your desk, you smile as Mr. Stark enters the room, "Good morning, Sir."

He grumbles back, but the words are unintelligible.

"Rough night?"

This time, all you receive is a grunt. You stand, heading for the elevator, "It looks like it's a straight black morning, huh? I'll return with your joe in a moment." He always seems to forget that coffee exists most of the time. If I - no, not me, I'm not that important, just anyone - wasn't here to keep an eye on him, he'd have died from exhaustion by now.

Doing your usual routine, you start the coffee maker, then hop up onto the countertop to sit. Yes, there are chairs in the room, but, for some odd reason, you enjoy sitting on tabletops and such. It brings you back to your school days, sitting on your desk, whispering to your friends before class starts. You try to block out the bullying, but some choppy memories slip through.

Deciding it would be best, you force yourself out of good ol' memory lane, and look out the large windows. From this height, you could see the city from a better perspective. Instead of the towering building standing intimidatingly above you, you look down on them, in awe of the sun reflecting of the the shiny buildings, making the city look far more at peace than in reality. You allowed yourself this little moment, a small and genuine smile crossing your features. These are rare, precious moments; take advantage.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the silence, "Oh, hey. Didn't know you were down here."

You snap your attention to Mr. Rogers standing in the archway to the open kitchen area. You blush, quickly jumping off of the counter to stand straight before him, "Mr. Rogers, good morning!"

He offers you a bright smile, "It is a good morning, isn't it?" He walks over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water.

"It really is." You then laugh, "But not for Mr. Stark, that's for sure."

Mr. Roger's laughs with you, "Are any of his mornings ever considered good?"

You laugh again, "I wouldn't know. Maybe if he woke up to someone next to him, his mornings would be a hell of a lot better." Your tone insinuates something not-so-innocent.

Your smile falters, realizing you had let an inappropriate joke slip, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say that! I shouldn't say things like that - "

"It's quite alright, (Ms./Mr./Mx.) __________. I hear far worse from Tony on a regular basis. And it's actually quite nice to see some more of your personality slip through." He turned his back to you, taking in a deep gulp of water.

You chuckle nervously, "If you're sure, Mr. Rogers. And you can just call me by my first name, like Mr. Stark does."

He tosses a quick smile over his shoulder at you, "And you can call me Steve."

You tense, biting at you bottom lip, "If that is what you wish, Steve." A warm feeling sneaks up on you as you say his name. Why did just saying his name make such a feeling bloom in your chest?

Mr. Ro - Steve went still, which appeared a tad strange, but you decided to not mention it.

"Would you like a cup of coffee, too, Steve?"

He shook his head, still facing away from you, "It's not a coffee kind of morning for me. Thank you, though."

You smiled at his back, then turned to the fresh pot of coffee, "Suit yourself." You filled up three glasses, as per usual, sure that Dr. Banner would probably want a cup, as well.

Finally, he turned back to you, and his voice sounded a bit off, "If you weren't so busy, I would ask you to join me for my morning run. You always have your hands so full."

You felt your face heat up. You looked down at yourself, "I'm, uh," you nervously glanced back up to him, "I'm not really a runner." Is that his subtle and nice way of calling me fat? Of course he'd think that. Who the fuck doesn't?

"A walk, then." He offers a soft grin.

You bite your lip, placing the mugs on the tray, "I suppose that would be nice. It's been pretty hot out, though; I don't really like the heat. And, just as you'd said, I am a rather busy person."

He nods, smile slipping a bit, "Perhaps, something more - "

A loud yawn cuts through the air, a man walking into the lounging area. It's a shirtless Mr. Odinson. You stiffen up, "Good morning, Sir. Did you sleep well?"

He gives you a tired smile, "Yes. I wish I could sleep longer, though."

"I'd have to agree with you there." You look down at the tray, then back to Steve, "It was nice chatting with you, but I'm afraid that I should hurry back to the office. Mr. Stark doesn't exactly like cold coffee, and he's probably fallen asleep at his desk again. I'll see you later!"

You turned away, heading back to Mr. Stark. You could've sworn you heard a light thud and a sharp, hushed voice behind you, but you chose to ignore it and continue on your way.

You groggily step into the office. It was technically your day off, and you'd planned to sleep in, but Mr. Stark called you in for 'an urgent emergency'. Lucky for you, he said you could dress casual and comfortable.

You plop down oh, so gracefully in your desk chair. You let out a heavy sigh, laying your head down on your folded arms on the desktop.

Someone bursts into the room, but you don't budge, "Ah, so you're here! Great!" It's Mr. Stark.

You lift your head, flashing a wide grin, "Morning, Mr. Star - "

"Ah!" He cuts you off, "That's my name only during work hours."

You furrowed your brows at him, "What do you - "

He interrupted you again, "There is no work today. On days like these, it's Tony."

You were quite confused, "But, Sir, if there's no - "

"Tony." He firmly stated, "I know that I called you in on your day off, but I have good reason. You're not here to work; you're here to..." he trailed, carefully choosing his next words, "have some fun."

You blinked, "Fun?" It was spoken as more of a statement than a question.

He laughed, "Yes, fun." He looked you over, "We should get you changed."

You leaned back into the chair, now fully facing him, "Why - I-I didn't - "

He shushed you, "Hush. We're going to get you something nice to wear for the party." He pulled out his phone, typing away.

Your eyes bugged out and you started to sputter, "Party? What party? Mr. - Tony, I can't - "

"You're going." He spoke firmly, "It's part of the job now."

You wanted to question further, wanted to argue, but you didn't want to risk your current position or your relationship with your boss. Instead, you just nod and wait, internally panicking.

He heads for the elevator, motioning for you to follow. With a sigh, you hurry after him.

Now fully dressed and ready in your fancy, new outfit, you glance at yourself in the mirror. The clothing seemed to fit you better than most anything you've ever worn, sculpting to your figure in a... not too unattractive way. You give yourself a small smile, smoothing down the fabric on your chest and stomach.

When shopping, you had made sure to get something that reached the floor and had long sleeves. You didn't want to expose any more skin than you had to.

A loud knock cut through the air from the door behind you, making you jump. You turn to the door, quickly reaching over to open it. Behind the door stood a sharply dressed Tony.

He smiled at you, "You look good."

You look down at yourself, mumbling, "Thanks."

He threw an arm around your lower back, pulling you out of the restroom and into the elevator.

After a few beats of silence, you nervously ask, "How big is this party going to be?"

He shrugged, still smiling, "Don't worry, it shouldn't be that big."

You frowned, brows furrowed. That didn't comfort you in the slightest. The elevator went silent again.

The music grew louder as you approached the party floor. You shifted on your feet anxiously. You weren't a big fan of parties in general, nevermind a Tony Stark party.

The elevator dinged. You bit your lip as Tony lead you out. He continued to smile at you, nudging your shoulder, "Go, have fun - and don't you dare leave." His tone was a tad unnerving.

You simply nod, and he walks away, leaving you alone. You could feel the music, the bass beating in your chest alongside your heart. It was a heavy feeling, but you kind of enjoyed it.

Looking to your left, you see a bar. You cringe. Nope. Definitely not drinking tonight. I get plastered far too easily, then I just end up embarrassing myself. You sigh, and turn to your right, seeing a large crowd of people dancing. A lot of them appeared drunk and they were dancing rather... intamately. You blushed just watching them. You wished you could move like that... That anyone would even want to dance with you in such a fashion... Stop it! Not now! You pinch the back of your hand to scold yourself.

Finally, you move from your spot, stepping forward and officially into the party. You walk around a bit, catching bits and pieces of conversations as you go. You turn your head, eyes meeting glass - a floor-to-ceiling window. You focus on your reflection, then to the city beyond the pane. You walk over to the window. You've never seen the city at night from this high up. Another one of those rare, genuine smiles spreads across your face. Maybe this party wasn't so bad, after all.

You notice something in your peripherals, turning your focus on it. It's a balcony. You thought about how beautiful the city looked, and decided to go get an even better view. You rush over to the surprisingly empty balcony, stepping out into the cool night air. Once the door shut, the music grew quite muffled, and you could listen in on the sounds of the city. The genuine smile lingered as you leant on the railing to peer down at the roads. The height frightens you in the best of ways, chills running down your spine.

You could barely hear the quiet footfalls approaching you. You were so zoned out, lost in the beauty of the city beneath you.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

You snap out of it, turning your still smiling face to the person behind you. It's Steve. Your eyes sparkle, "Beautiful, yes, but I would say 'gorgeous'."

He smiled back to you, "I would save that word for prettier sights." There was a hint of... something in his voice, but you couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

"There are a lot 'prettier sights', huh?" You turn back to the city, "Though, here and now, this has got to be the prettiest."

He now stood beside you, "Now, I wouldn't say that."

You glance over at him, "Why not?"

He remains silent for a few moments before turning back to you and smiling. He holds out his hand, "Care to dance?"

You look to his hand, then back to his eyes, "I can't..." you trailed, "I'm no good at dancing."

He persisted, "All we have to do is sway. How hard can that be?"

You furrowed your brows, glancing to the windows and looking inside. Everyone was dancing wildly, jumping around and grinding against one another. But Steve was suggesting a much different kind of dancing.

"I don't get why people consider that dancing nowadays." he spoke up, grabbing your attention again, "Dancing used to be a whole lot classier."

You chuckled, "Yeah, but at least it seems fun."

He nodded thoughtfully before he continued to persist, "Will you please dance with me?"

You clasp your hands behind your back nervously, "Like I said, I'm not much of a dancer."

"All we'll do is sway." He steps closer, "We'll sway to much quieter music."

You shake you head at him, "What music?"

"You'll hear it if you listen carefully." His grin widens.

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head. Holding out your hand, you flash him a smile, "Fine, I give. I'll dance with you. But don't complain when I step on your toes." You jokingly warned.

"I'm tough, I can handle it." He pulls you close to him, lifting your hands to his shoulders before placing his on your hips.

You bit back your nervousness, "Oh, so you're taking the lead?"

"I thought you couldn't dance." He started swaying the two of you back and forth at a slow pace.

You chuckled, "Yeah, it'd be a disaster if I lead."

"I doubt that."

You continue to smile, "Your doubts would be incorrect, Steve."

He shifts, pulling you a tad closer. His hands felt a bit heavier on your hips. "All of them?"

You nod, "Yep."

You can see a strange twinkle in his eyes. Suddenly, he's leaning down and placing a soft, slow kiss on your cheek.

As he pulls away, you feel your face heat up, not really sure what to say, "What was that for?"

He ignored your current question, instead responding to your previous one, "The city may be a pretty sight, but I reserve the word 'gorgeous' only for you."

Your breath hitches, heartbeat picking up. You were speechless. Your face grew hotter. You started to panic, quickly deciding to hide your face in his shoulder.

He chuckled, nervousness obvious in his tone, but he continued, "My friends have caught my lingering glances. I don't mean to stare, but I just can't help myself. You are very attractive, there's no denying that."

You shake your head involuntarily.

"You don't think so?"

You kept silent, still.

He pulled you against him, continuing the swaying motion, "I know that I'm being forward. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I'm afraid that if I keep beating around the bush, I'll miss my chance."

"What are you talking about?" You managed to mutter out.

He hesitated, "I want you to be mine."

You pulled back from him, wide-eyed, "What?"

"I-I mean, if you'll have me - " He let you go, taking a step back, panic settling into his eyes, "I'm sorry, I should leave you be, shouldn't I?"

You panic as well, reaching out to grip his upper arm, worried that he'd walk off, "No!"

The both of you stilled.

You recoiled, "I-I mean... no." You spoke softer, "I'm sorry, I just can't really tell if you're serious or not." You try to laugh it off, wrapping your arms around yourself.

His brows furrowed, "Why wouldn't I be serious?"

"Well, uh," you averted your eyes, "if you're constantly the butt-end of a joke, you tend to put up some walls, constantly doubting what others say." You realized that you might have said too much when you look back at him. There was apparent anger in his eyes and frustration embedded into his features.

He steps back over to you, "I wouldn't play with your feelings like that." He clenched his jaw, wrapping his arms back around your waist, holding you gently.

You returned the favor, embracing him.

Another long stretch of silence.

"Why wouldn't I have you?" You blurt out, still doubtful.

He chuckled, "Because I'm sure, as amazing as you are, you could find someone better."

You paused, "So even the Captain America can be insecure." You didn't really mean to say that aloud, but it's already out there, in the open.

"Yeah, believe it or not." He chuckled again, "You have no idea how vulnerable I feel right now."

He seemed to sincere, so honest, it was starting to actually get hard to doubt his words. You let a 'huh' slip from between your lips.

He pulls back, cupping your cheek. He leans forward again, kissing your temple. This action was so gentle and caring, it made you melt. "All I'm asking for is one date. Anything after that is up to you."

You smiled at him, a short laugh escaping you, "So is this our first date?"

He returned the smile, "I would prefer to take you on a proper date." The swaying resumed, and you think you're starting to understand what music he was talking about.

You stood straighter, confidence building, "I'd like to consider this the first."

"And why's that?"

You inhale sharply, "So I can kiss you already."

He stared at you for a moment. Neither of you spoke or moved. When a minute grew into forever, you returned to your panicky self.

Suddenly, he captured your lips against his own, holding you closely. It took you a moment, but you were soon kissing back, gripping at the fabric on his back.

The kiss ended far too soon. His smile reached his eyes, "Done and done."

A laugh fell from your lips, and you were kissing again. It was chaste, but it meant everything to you, "I'm yours."

He pressed you against him, swaying with you at a slightly faster pace, "And I'm yours."

You leaned against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. If this wasn't music, you didn't know what was.

Thank you so much for reading! This wasn't super romantic or anything, so I do plan on making a continuation. I don't know why, but I keep writing out these long, slow-burning stories, with endings that don't really feel all that worth it. I promise to spice things up pretty soon. If you have any thoughts, suggestions, or requests, hit me up. I'll make some time just for you.

[justlookfrightened]

Coach Bitty

This is in response to an anonymous ask for Bitty as something other than a baker or hockey player. I don’t know if figure skating coach is too close for the anon, but I can totally see him going back to the sport he grew up with! Anyway, I’ll continue this probably next week.

** Edited to fix minor inconsistencies and to make it clear that Bitty’s students have parents/caregivers with them, because it would be very irresponsible of Bitty to be alone in the rink with children. Not that Bitty would ever take advantage of anyone, but he wouldn’t want to put them in questionable circumstances -- and he’d encourage their parents to look out for them too.

Part 1

No. Jack had booked time at this rink specifically so he could be on the ice alone. Here it was, 10 minutes before his time was due to start, and there was pop music playing and no sign of the Zamboni.

Not that he needed a perfectly clean sheet of ice for what he planned to do today -- essentially, an hour of laps, to keep up his endurance over the summer -- but still. He had booked the ice and trucked himself all the way out to this godforsaken industrial park in East Providence, and he wanted to be alone. And he’d like a clean sheet of ice to start, if only to clear his mind.

The woman looking at her phone in the lobby didn’t even look up as he stalked past her.

There was only one skater, it looked like. That was something. It was a -- boy or girl? He couldn’t really tell -- in dark leggings and a green sweater. There was a man standing near the boards talking while the kid picked up speed going backwards, sprang into the air, twisted around until they were spinning like an airborne top, and came down again, one leg sweeping around in a wide circle.

The man -- not much bigger than the kid, really, but clearly an adult -- was all but jumping up and down on his skates and clapping.

Maybe they were done.

Jack pushed open the door between the lobby and the rink itself and said, “Excuse me!”

The man turned with a little jump, waved at Jack and looked back at the kid.

“Look, Mason, you have an audience for your first triple salchow!”

He turned back to Jack with a big smile. “Wasn’t it marvelous?”

The guy obviously wasn’t from Rhode Island, or anywhere in the Northeast.

“Uh, I guess?” Jack said. “But I booked the ice for four o’clock. I don’t blame you for staying until the Zamboni guy kicks you off, but I don’t see any sign of him.”

“Are you going to skate like that?” the man asked him, eyeing his basketball shorts and slides.

“I’ll be changed in a minute,” Jack said.

“Why don’t you just do that, hon?” the man said, his voice dripping with syrup. “I’m sure he won’t keep you waiting. Locker rooms are around there.”

Then he called to the kid, “Great job today, Mason! Grab your stuff and meet your mom in the lobby, all right?”

Jack followed the curve of the boards to a corridor in the back and found an open room. He could hear the Zamboni take the ice before he closed the door.

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

This time, Bitty had half an ear cocked for the outside door.

Sure enough, at five minutes of four, it creaked open, and the same man came in.

Sigh. It looked like he and Mel would have to call it day, and just when she was starting to get it, too.

“Coach Bitty!” Mel was saying. “Were you watching? I think I finally got that tricky bit right.”

“What, hon?” Bitty said. “Sorry -- I was distracted. I think our time’s about up. How about you do the step sequence one more time before we pack up?”

“Sure thing, Coach!”

Mel was always a ball of sunshine, made of enough energy to power the whole neighborhood. Not the most talented of Bitty’s handful of students, but Lord, did she try. And she had personality to spare. That would probably be enough for a respectable showing in juniors -- in regional competitions anyway -- but she likely wouldn’t go much further.

That was fine, though. Bitty hadn’t gone any further that that, and things had turned out fine for him, right? Completely, perfectly fine. Sure, maybe he could have made it into seniors. Maybe. If he didn’t live in Madison, Georgia. If someone had encouraged him to take the leap and go train with an elite coach. If he’d had the courage to ask his parents for that.

He kept his promise and didn’t turn away from Mel as she made her way across the ice, somehow smiling and concentrating at the same time. He heard -- and felt -- the same man come up beside him.

“I have the ice --”

“Yes, I know, you have the ice at four o’clock,” Bitty said, eyes still on Mel. “We’re almost out of your way, and I know no one has it after you, so if you don’t get your full hour, I’m sure the owner won’t mind if you stay a little longer.”

Then, louder, he said, “That was perfect, sweetheart!”

Mel was sliding over to the door, beaming.

Bitty handed over her skate guards and said, “Remember your off-ice practice and your conditioning program, right? Great practice, Mel. See you Thursday. Your brother should be in the lobby, I think.”

Finally, he turned to the man, who was … not fuming, really. Just grumpy.

“Happy now?” he said. “Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to give people a minute.”

“Fine,” the man said. “I’m going to change. Can you get the Zamboni guy to cut the ice?”

“Uh, sure,” Bitty said.

“Thanks,” the man said, and headed toward the same locker room he’d used the day before.

Bitty shook his head and went to get the Zamboni out. Had the skater not realized that Bitty cut the ice? It was part of his deal with the rink’s owner.

He wasn’t sure why Johnson bought the rink at all. He’d had a windfall -- inheritance? lottery? who knew? -- and spent it on a private ice rink tucked down a side street in an industrial park. It had rental skates, but no regularly scheduled public skating sessions; a lack of audience seating that made it unattractive for hockey games; and a concession stand that consisted of two vending machines, one stocked with Gatorade and one stocked with protein bars.

But it was perfect for Bitty, who was trying to make a go of it as a figure skating coach, more than a decade after he had originally left the sport. Johnson let him use the ice for next to nothing, as long as he ran the Zamboni around before and after his sessions, and he was welcome to any time not already booked. In the summer, with youth hockey taking a break and no overflow practices at the rink, it was almost always free. Until this week. Johnson had texted him to let him know.

Jack needs the ice 4-5 pm. TIA for accommodating him

So the man was Jack, Bitty figured, but he didn’t know why he wanted to skate alone, in hockey skates no less, for an hour every afternoon.

Or why he couldn’t seem to offer a smile to save his life. Bitty had certainly noticed that cheekbones, the jawline, the clear blue eyes. Not to mention the body to die for. But the permanent scowl? That was enough to warn Bitty off.

Bitty wasn’t the naive child he once had been; this Jack was almost certainly straight. Even if he wasn’t, he didn’t seem to want to make friends -- not even friendly acquaintances -- let alone anything more.

Bitty was just putting the Zamboni away when he heard skates cutting through the ice. He turned to look and caught a surprised expression on Jack’s face when he realized Bitty had been driving the machine.

Read Part 2