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libidomechanica · 11 days ago

Text

Hee vowes no sin to make her soul quite despite

A sonnet sequence

Looks, and my proue. Live chattels, mincers of flesh, all the wreath the distant hills, and men were valves out of my fond was, that were met, the hidden or forbidden Mystery. Gate, how oft, when leaves with pity let it came yonder we. So this excess, esteem me, and the Dove, that I be not thy fangs of the moor and triumph in your eyes, nor war? And broom instead perforse. Come, Love, do this is spread. A falling eyes so from here, thro’ the Princes, shall bed to angels watched her. Hee vowes no sin to make her soul quite despite. Under an army black Melancholy reign to presage: those to wood?

Something made bricks in the bellowing and kissing, to swear, His head: render pray take the tomb, to be a rug—turned hall long lanes of Hell brake, He is craving space between us! In the Spring, for your sweet pure spirit has been a girl, to the city began to thee. Lost will, for fear we to boot, and love. Because she might to flow in vain. And as he looked, thrust if any hart since her deep in that title doth frame, in the wrought, and that I write the leaning, the griefes their sweet pure loue that Power made aware of that ill the sun hotter thanks for Adonais; till piper lads were not my friends arise. Shall burn the shades we’ll go, and honour, which, used, like a models arrived, some minx tripped with rage of us thou do’st dwell in the Sprite, wherewith there wert left to wrench his heart on English grows. As malignant hast ye she lay sick of thy scarf hadst thou spend in the heart’s undoing.

But all these flash’d the fair, but led by the birds perch’d on thy flame roses that I shall I own Tell if thou forgetting, fill my workshop. ’ And I was wont to me did not Love as though you shall there round that bring, and him, the shy touch. Now you have neither guilt. In crimson-rolling raiment. He that vengeance of some holy knees have out of thee. As with no more. With wear, nor use a fair a day, shone thou, that I shall regret, conceal, dismissed it, lost evening His teeth of your magics, spells, and mock’d with thy pray’rs I try, o pious fraud of it from birth doth Love! That wait till the gate, he came, and me.

But if thou would cram our sorrowing and time, so in a convention the ledger live down the strong; what have forgave me word that night and thwarted up a weight to heauens hight. And you are sublime, if there welcoming back and lacke, like the tomb bestrew where they meant by the cruel maid, some lover sings of light flash without you: when soul, or scorn the scrolls together, said what Death can join the measures, and, amber springs mutual pity be no fury, or hot desire you think’st thou find stellas face, and if there between the darts. Cut moment Deity life, myself in thy table streams do I live or death. Like a fire, obsessed. The light, breaking each others even a notarize our soul, the general roar of that sad, sorrow, within a dream of death and kissin’ Theniel Menzies’ bonie Mary. Meet her like a corkscrew and your second motion, pulses of his yerely take.

Not peace in angels trembling there lean; yet wist na what thou shalt thou wert, I know not the beames of Heaven’s smiles bright? A strife is done; and sighing and known, even tonight station of the flour, is it in the blest—but when all this waste in sense and tell her, and fix itself down Bristol Street, i’ll love him, and lov’d idea lies: o write me all the gulf of deed, not vassals of waterlily start up, the mother: thought to fragments. With the sonne of any wood ye see, you the flying to his fatter game on the digits of air, at sightless bowe how his mother was its streams my eyes.

And thou noteless sphere I see the last close. And bid her hands: a moment, the press’d; give him can come, and the whirled her hands. The Lark is driver, waved her. Sudden a passion thus. Graves at her ambrosia mixt, and secret Paradise was slowly dying memory, with her all things, all the first and my rival came. Thrust if any hart still caverns and cheek, and cherish’d, our love you, as in the Unapparent sphere I see she lend an enemy’s fleet came. In sad maid: but to grasp’d it; of the Earth, now at least breathing thee still and seen the dead? As thou lament, their ring. La mort ny mord.

You could nothing carried him in a street out what nys on each low winging down on her long fantastic stricken mute, die to thilke god that which dull dense worlds, until surely anchored to trace in among us in our strove toward through the dight for all. Had you said thus he the same; and then with light and each hand die by light is pass’d from soul that alone as the fair. Making addition lost as mine. Hearts have to be a rug— turned like corpse. And die rather friendship’s name; my faltering life may all date, even tonight. Rent toil me heat, the faults of the memory wakes thus that changed: we dismissed.

Deepens the visions lin’d, or learnt, we, conscience sadde Winter that night on: in ev’ry green spray, What deaf and his pow’r away? Was to your kitchen verboten? And stealing too as women kick again, mix not mean. A vengeful canker of those lips that wait on youth, mine despair, but thou mourn the Spouse of earth and with me for song there underworld; ah me, o my kisses on its spacious, not vassals to be reconciled; and weeping orphans and loves me to measure the simple, unterrified, the forwards the window pocked haye. If every coppice- feather, each others came mended with me.

And like a nurse would thine? Out in a room even in blacke why weary, there the whole in the waves which must now I allow wind of traveled and lifting shine my guilt. Wait Mister. The dwarfs of presage: this this, curl up in holy order; when midway on thee bynempt: then with whose restless penitence embitter bathes my business, why should bring flow’rs. Sometimes from a wintry so fast, with her, for I have sunk, extinguishing, I? He has something I did seem right soften with woe, and seen the pallor that this demurre our bed as you see,—with such grows, sighing ruth. Then, as well done; till her lot.

Whose childhood will be its maze of chalk and beauty’s breath whose prepare you eft with a flitting her. Echoes, in the Future dares wash’d to its own light her e’e, as if to sing, and a singly we the home, when mine. Maud the hears, to whom the beggars raffle there, like swinging a world is dimme and sun. For spite of the Lady Blanche erect stood and blouse—nay, a bitter statue, said to me and the foe, Thou art cold lips trembled, wept, and whate’er will is dead Dad kept her what I might vnhappy might be in your distant mortal thou seek him in your lips, and death, who love I shear of alabaster.

Remove all the West. And torture and wrap me in, let my willing drums, and know how much wit, for any good New Yorker and fears instead of dark. Yet Maud too, where so soon, at the threefold thus, crying, Oh. Welcome pain was not out each, like worms, who bewailest for the air. In each couples, woven in thee more foolish I couldst haue no more fond eyes, those lover, raving men; companion art, that you, ungracious poison, turne your forefingers that sitting with stay from a centre: let me from my will find him, and mowers them selues that all unauthor is, but demanded into death?

When to Jove great vehemence, more that abiding clove an anger most I glory, the snow continues to weeping. And cheeped, trilled their mate widow’s bed, that solemn agony had nevermore to wet a widow’s bed, for love away my swain, which men miscall delight, and a holy silent wear the swell the wise! The filthy by-lane ringing old song, that sustains are gone below no bigger the regions of thanks for the smart may brag of worke, Stellas sweet together, husband, friends, they deal, dismiss me, as unkind, not that morning, we find stellas eyes. Or the mouth-deep in breast.

And tell who do love. ’ Executor to be seen; when shall she be destroyed. What Adonais—he is turn upon us, crying, never at the same, because I loved over the fresh-cut hair damp from the fatal to me? Tramp, to score; there wert wont to draw the broke and what their camp of death, and winds could not her feet: a tide of Launcelot on thing through all thoughts that light. I saw his finding Devon banks, crystal Devon, wilt thou art divine when remedies thy lusts relenting blush’d through the beare, now poring on the yesterday. Set into memory, doth false survivor where was once!

The One reaching from birthplace to forgiv’n. Before than to changes, survive not till my voice and never-wearied love’s despair? And throne, whence it to the tyranny. Carries me to dye. And dull Time when did meet mass’d the casement flower! With my absent, love the wants to ponder and higher end than the blest abode; assist the skies and glimmering lov’d us; nay, now suffice to show me this stream, that love and hue, and to shame; and I was come. Peace inuent: my verses merimake. Self to silent the sun himself and please let Life did “Thy places by the stars to cover me.

The ivory stung, from a lucid urn off the bare even a notary would lie down and move, torture and as lowde as wanton in like to the day, and a whisp’ring their praying and psalms but for him up unscathed: give him, he that draws breathing on such a soft kisses after his vertuous drops from singing joy of them, that ages, taught at once comes, lived in all things that sin is so brightly: on a sleep not in nature of truth, of lasting forth, and all-oblivion as these musks, cut flesh, all affliction and unfather’s fate some have sunk, extinct in their head to phone boats than enough.

My love because be of your neighbour with my flower honey, when known; and then come. And and up for Adonais—he is departed one kind of a pleasure your minutes has-ke. And Jill goes down torn hair, as I do hear, i’ll trouble with flowery way, just that breed my nurse would comes, yet fade as wantonly when only I saw what is its kindles there without silence, so inflame transport roses fearfully on her face, as underhand, stream and rest; ’ and wishing evening grace, till thee: the earth and her wilds Ierne sent have full of glory of troubled medowes mourns for that can see.

You are, your new faithful love whose behind the joyous wood the gaudie girl spake moan is chance against thou, whole face an advent to love you see the winter’s cot, from which must be seen; when in thee, I am perjured most auaile, o carefull verses cease, yet receive you eft with profit then, twenty millionaire: I have happy spirit animates eternal wings, the lingering light a. You that the household Fury sprite; the rank remain beyond, a desire green lizard, and known: then would lord Loues feet his lov’d, and taken mortal wife … I know itself but right. Have thy fooles, are wed.

Not he: his heard the red ball wrapt in legs, and wailed on the charming news of better darling days’ sweet odour, for I, being rich in atonement flower turning, by this: if thou wound, and shore of thee, knap the winds what you seek no copy fair Lesley, returned. In your eyes, and smooth muskets at home, he has made: and mourne, the eye follows wild-flowering. Far in thy brood about your native land, and mine had blended with their guided steps o’er; and howe my Muse, now my pen the veil that I know how to misuse through the stretch my empty glove up groweth with thee, gaze enchanting blushing her.

For grain and where I fly, pursuing the face, as unkind, virtue thus his brain with a silent alone, I marry the brain to love. In vain; he sees his head at twilight off your handsome and play hard an overpast. The world farewell? What acceptance pealing lovers, the clown’s-all-heal, the death; as it the dance of the small clings to import forget. After and hill and smile, that you see,—with spicy chocolates tempers a thoughts else were met, the moor. Where I sleep he lay;—his dying what? But why should ape there; it had in the hall, and the faded violets, carvings, shall all my soul, one that stopped.

At four o’clock me be maintained: but as a simulacrum to all the Stone of us, they comes clear—neither heart; tis but to thee. Whining tide homeward of Love, and seen frog wades; and the cupboard, i’m half enclosed the world of low replied her grief would serve when what I met thy heart’s echoes talk along tunes and in vain your strife, but so. With grain and wondering up to make us and some mould’ring then is quench’d in shame that it were sweater long endured, long- closeted with true-love to thee to move like the market I stealing lovers lie abed with deluging sweet, and wonder will?

But till China and see God open Door. Meet memory wakes there, through and be yet Gibson’s hash, and that passes once a net, now a health, let honour all the first lullaby. That suited well These moss-grown humble delight, alone, I marry the woo’d and fell, an erring a prayer to be seen; when all for the doleful air; death did lie. Strongest breath once am thine, steal, a wasted height of disgrace, the vultures waits a river; and whose sacred be her dew distills before him, and its charge to bursting oaks. And some captive maid; they now of death, knows well as deep oaths I quit, that was.

The bedroom blue skies pear eater longing human he lay, that Ill may drinke nectar mist: curst be stain she faded violet, one dying I descend, from the inmost circle. And, thoughts tilt, and Life’s early lovèd, but as he sing itself and the tinkling rice, of saddest memory stung! Being all the Spouse prelude held rustle: at once are far away; and silent bee: and ye for a day and torture not her girl spake, and sea, war with flower, would have waste to the matin lamp in sing and Before, and pin’d for he along with doubt he is waste had such a pernicious nothing, nor the Strange?

Thoughts that assail the Captain’s lady. Refusing moon rages and wrap me in their virtuous head, and he the Initiate thy let a tear. Both may be my ribs cracknells at dewy sleeps, and to the joy that heard of her feet sent out to thee. Nature’s epigraph, new angels’ purity, twixt were little to hue, now poring of you; I babbled sphere; let me prophet of fear had lov’d no more in the gas, put hot water, yet pure, doth dispatches between the Seas Seven but a fool would have neither way even thither, maid, or the statues over the foe, that will ever part?

I told him in a gentle Maud in our young again. Misfortune! When the skies pear eater room, I hunt the cupboard, a goddesse no long ago—that this way, just teach me at once mingled grave i’ th’ fire. More than the ambrosia mixt, and come—the her harp, and never level feet, high over the story tell; the debris of natures are left to seek him in your eyes, swim before I cry, less first and Sleep; here like your fantastically merry friend, that receive, and whom he taught He is me! The boys and pushing, as I entertayne, much great passing to Jack, and partly twas a sword.

—They are eating too. That to the sat high in the winds and so much knowing echoes broke the dog, and take me they illumined hall long as yet thoughts of Pearl. No, fly me, fly me, for ambitious torment is love because the notes and I remembered one my hopeless blot upon her kind. A Lover, raving no more, from pain; thy life content, with impart. That is liberticide, and labour to say, with honey of travel, a pale limbs, so long breeze; no more; but I, so much knows. Bearing in the grocery man calling o’er a present to remember how often must part, no more, when mine.

Here are no force, choise sport, did play; I put, he pushed, and go, mountains, and than a glow- worker be, wherein my heart like Painter touch we entertayne, with bulrush and all thing do, that I mighty daughter near thee the day comfortless sphere haunt about the dawn whatever happier task these deep river level with wrathe and made, and night; no louely Paris madness of masonry, nor pass into a rivers, silver lyre unstrung. And friends, whose rest. In amorous o’er your legs still set off to seek us: out of them, that stir with grim laugh and storm: a handmaid on Devon, wilt thou art!

That I do not so will bursts by the meets thou not been, once a net, now can words, relief; ah, more we the stomach of Venus burns bright which our face, struck, so rous’d Death, her round her babes to be as air, not mine—but have mowed, had not Nor let her sad! A pile often hate! Why linger, why fear ye, brawlers? If to love to woo, suppling and known, and partly fears in the Rust Belt mode—work hard, how bene rugged rocks! Like one bread or to beye, first breathes my business of her mother’s fame, well deserving wave mid-channel. The stone that it assumed the act is dead, and the world with the space by: but I?

She is gather way even thither, husband to her deep hair, but into his Host would God to make away! This camphor, storax, spiked thirst; She streams he sets, and in her Cypres doen advaunce: the murmur, between thy tables that are name thou wilt thou great deep kindness, if not,—myself had made a sudden thee, misfortune—range way. Alas, no mischief would nothing reproach, O Spring! But knewe we fooles, whate’er is as goodly and bringes vntil, dye would escapes, maud with the days working they bring through desolate mountains, dissolve the world. All impulses beat—what in beauty’s legacy?

Of storms rock thee, like pageantry of hair; inlaid garbage. The boys and plastic night’s sweet hour, I shall will regale to the sun set in tear or mend. Grief the floors; she saw the sung new hate after thy payne: and nothing battle white-hot. To change, the beggars raffle the dreaded sisters of love my tongue has plotted rushrings, and something is dimme and voluntary pain, dropt thrown awake without a part Through veils. The darksome round. Fain would not heard, I know; back that for his voice single life endure, nor Fortune shall stood, and thou wounds, that all. Seek out some on me, but none of her olive, tread.

Where they stopt his flown: say to the hay-fields. Ye glowworm, now take off the world forget, may God and heed of beauty and feel that I doubt there no signs of princess, If indeed the city, and let thus, O Prince you could be known, the lost confounded the steaks, onion—pure union—slashing else were your flames! To be seen faultily fault was Florian’s fancy feigned on lips, more reply to her bosom heaven’s smile. And love him this height me twas but falsen no crime remove all the gray walls their Life betrothed to wreak your fairer we do cry. The many a great is it be He, who has this dead!

Used to moment fell. In the eye follow, thy words thistlesse statue of cruel ray, steal, a waste hath her vain my eyes trace my name appealing to Jack, and at least and to thaw the redd’ning children of wedding tree, all the promise of nyne, such head grow, and then I bow’d the red-ribb’d hollow sound, his wild-flower and he the not afraid. Already have gone, ridden in to life contagion; how to ear, to me here the moon the sinister of thy griefe, when to love enjoy it: when he wild figtree split their first— they see; for heart-throbs, and street to love as the says he is gone, This went by as stung!

My little flower climbing then—he took you to Love? That sting me from hue to seeds& religion disappear; he slays me. From birth, must of a knelt; but wanton in his Eyes, and cheek when mine. Circumstance to feel the dam ready to be a rug—turned hast, nor pass the burrows my life, and Sleep; the shining, I whet my poor hearthstone? After room, four ladies awakens all read long white should leap from thee. Where came and I weep a dye as thought forever the morn her is rough of your own like his griefs to the evening were griefe, when at first, burns the fault, what we are they seem’d of his clear me free.

Arms Shirúeh with a green spray, when, like a fire, O heart feels my heart know some divine oblivious wrath of my mind, I see some pain was song lamented Adonais. The night of life’s first breath, and that struck by the shade. Venus burden of the way you go through am I sitting absence, and pursuit. In Kula, drive the body that lowlye laye, and the loved your mind with such ends, whom thee. But will see who should be the light; no louely Paris whistling wail’d, and in pride; and heart grown cold, who shalt thou wert wont in the could say read, ’ and wishing her heart moves the true loved accents of the sun’s birth till piper lads were little plum is what dark days gone; the dead; from world forget me do not like rabbits, for still, and shaking of thunderbolts: what the lamps grew little too ripe, too surely things stay so foul a lie! And, hee’l leave me none in Hades, now wept with trembling her buried body go, what?

Or is it, that ring the nest’ she speake? Not once a little touch we enter. Bowed to die with a suddenly where Love spear to give? He will strait than I. Your pryde: waile we the bought run wild while the gates. Until deathes the dead, and full of love will do it, unless mind! Even to mine, and so close behind her monsters of them in evening, and take you ready, o mountain and stir or forbidding o’er his sceptre for ever happened on the swelling-place; and who, Our Adonais. Song, speak of my hair: the marching too deere for aught of each others’ pray’rs; snatch’d six or seeming of thy dart!

And suffers and not better or the lamps the amorous eye that existence and partly lov’d Eloisa see! From which couples, salad, Parker House roll, and tender feet sent out to their sister, daughter, wake and strike, if the lore shed among the thou not better thy hair this way. Like a thermostat we a blanket, too full, or the said hi to me did na Jeanie wist, over thee, my desire! The nights of a mourne with a woman’s voiceless the Unapparent that die a makeless seas that shall confuse my madness, why didst through their grief while I run repentant sighs wi’ me?

We finds her mammie’s cot, from his place his store; buy terms of pursuit. Lips that delight which should pipe and fears, to enflesh my thousand yet could be if it has burst the sobs around tremble round, you wert wont to great convention with all too young heart’s echoes broken stand, praising so short hour, when we do together drinking in these ambers, and nature me shadow flits and bid her love ae e’ening the waves roar, and the little space was long-forgotten, my lovely glorious content, but it says, we are far away my books anoint me, that surely anchored to purple pride; and that kind?

When we plank, and bid her soules for than Pittsburgh is enough; only true in shame common, common, common be then? I heard him, some disdain should be movèd; many for ages, taught he wakeful ear in that’s that made bare even a notary would be knows whether them, that death in Life, have stolen what was a solidly when Love speak the sky and that passeth sone as though he best can succeed to it with sad eies I too may pipe and your memoree. The nerves the tedious poison from Indian craft than enough, soon enough, soon enough. Love as fawns for you must kiss, shame, she lives, he has found my boyish drear and my Lover’s Language wholly misinterpret the furrows in my need; desier still, and molten on their centre, dart that from Lady Psyche: you had thrill and sky, attracts to covert creep; the childish push-pin, for dryed is the way a stone below; and the body.

Thy spirit thou, I know dost the vault of breasts and she was not her heat? And doleful tale, I heard in the light, and the floors; she is, time was opening the glass to annihilation of thee as thou wert wont to do? Fain would lie outside lawn; scenes my feelings to one sort slowly dying to its own; and her, and power in Thee vain are the rest. But that beat to mine, and cold and dusky caves in holy order; when victims at villages that crowd—tomorrow, with changed Death, and a light erasing then. A foreign churches—I see the living me free. That day, and young great mortal!

She least, beaten hope nor the larks from crooked age and echo rings; in a funny warm in your poem left to shame, by Cupid in sing not a Thread lost, disposed in the threw his fancy me, or summer dawns the earth do pleading rills, the flame, what the throne, to thrum, the fates, and let the tiles, for such folly, or grotesque, or else to moment we shall seek him in yougth and turn back, and calumny and buds discloses every soon the evening too hard to razed oblivion yielding now. All are my side bowed toward the iron blunter grows. Not there and gall. The altars blazoned what end?

And one sings are oaths’ breach do ghesse, ye faint flush’d th’ unwilling o’er again in to be, according the honey of troubled shores of maidenhood again ingrain, and blown goat hang on such as moans about the conquer Time. Than you when your on her monsters of the bring moon in piece of Eden bright chambers, blood, and if ever saw you, their vigils pale ivy creep; there leaning, sir, to the hunter rued his who shalt gayne, much growth of me. The feeble vassals to move about there was they bring me from then splendidly null, dead perfection, no more, oh, never-weariest way this was mine.

As they sing, to soul, one thy love doth complayne, let me in lead: o heauen hent. Then weep each was the child, and thine? As like the yellow peels, my still and say—I canna wrang the winters wrath and wanton babes to be seen faultily faults of him, too, Beauties peeped and make me if I’ve watch’d the cold hopes are blue slips on the street outside, which wooed wo, most circle of love and spend shifts but of the strut and smooth-faced snubnosed rogue would nourish set on your flames! And were and what is no shame. My books and dawnin in the years shall ever be? And the street signs to do witnesse reward in silence, once a bouldered lodged in snowy should sink admiration had, as if she Autumn at my heart? Lifts apply, as his made: and your age, repeyreth hooded brow, and the tea-cup opens mothlike, like their flight on my hearts that Loues indeed, when with timorous Deep to have faith torn, in me all thing.

Come tomato aspic, Helen, Helen! And wishing, nor hearts doth springs to their ears which through we inhabit together, tell the waves roar, and cold lips and suns and sommer dayes dead. And you with no love can I achieve, by the bears—o wouldst with Dians wings rain mistress bed: but about the pageantry of thy beautiful: let it to fragrance, so inflame thou art a queen, fair face and smooth bear with having to the squares a hope there round the swinging she gaed wi’ Jeanie fairest maid of hopes and feed it seemed, while my Juliana here hateful to some share it! Peace in a ditch doth give!

Wine come then state of nyne, such as moans above it and relieve my Lover’s eyes are as thou dost lamb she poison behind a Judith, under the Skein of all ill. Sooner or later I turn up. The night, crawls to my lay, glad if for he along he build them passions, all gaze her poor retention with great a sum of sums, yet could she wrought doth now leaves; since thou hast thow it gone? Can tear or mend. Still and so longer thanks in the superincumbent hour, I shall be cheating years fill of deed, not in nature’s no other raptures, and love. Peace and there, on which, used, she doth not amiss.

A troop of war, or some to appealing that right, Norway sun shall already written me, but it didn’t work out thy knee; the light virelayes, and that sings, hungry to Heav’n seized my country people called for Psyche, but smile thee made one pang of, shook upon the Seas Seven but while that sad dirges, like the sky, we drank a heart-free, with the swelling-place; but I began to her arms and now my pensive fear; rather dim dwell in death down the ages, empires and pray’rs depend? The tender feet where wert wont green, The spoilers tempt shall lover, so he wounded the world doth now list the days. You, knows my life, and how she’d just reverted eyes, who was a bashful art, the witch, haunting to all, to enlightes, as each sex, like a corkscrew and torturing day; Thy hopeless fancy come: if not,—myself the rick flames, out of him, while we gazed she flush upon the grass fell in the poor mend.

To her, the same to die. The Power made the yell of grief returning here and wake and where, that we recall, arranged from his the same way the sky. Left to dream is fled; in the feet visionary maid. To waken’d, and go, mountainside walls and could notarize our tended majesty, the love; and shower, o look alone can rival out thou forgets to save. So, till piper lads were woodmen heart on English ground when we sank our soul, one the precious of water, yet finde no truth before; and dinted to my ankles, when souls entwine: while thus vnkind? The joy to day and none told, perforse.

And make ever-changing the crowds of the maintained: but as the worms and root, the fields by night and beautiful: let it becomes soothing evening to you change shall stop its waving or finding, her her key scrape in my legs, folding not, seeing Two who desire you decide to lead them leaue to pleasure you no form leans sadly o’er the sense had bounding Devon, wilt though when everywhere meaning to you canst not of Abelard be lost Eloise? The Arrows my life chance on-a-time was found, from that dimm’d the name? Them selues that make thee to be, and the languid fool, who would but so.

The space, the weight the greeting year; o canst not look well who dare not touch near this frequence can divine, that idle tears that heart what a chief worke, Stella must not out all thing dews impearled. I calm’d her cheek the stars, when near—the stiffness by her, no more, but wanton burdenous centre-bits grind on a trick of the men eager, but half enclosed me a journey take it once mingled to me, hate what she hunter and heart, that Powers I not die the quickly, and rufull ryme, matter throws a moment the rest. Family of Sighs, the shut against their rest, when my Genevieve, by the gate, he came; and blown; Oh, weep and ceased the way the hill, according to its flames still my voice in thy cruel fights are swearing the girl shoots with life’s pale couple too ripe, to the dead. Like the crimson-rolling hand drum, then, demanded and winning pique at what nedeth feyned love but put out of strawberries.

Back through thou be stains of the Spouse present Death is brother strength our sute doth at each are divine, the childe the spot shall but his light when my heart, is was mine. I know which in Will, ’ and Will, ’ add to the song white dress to all, that in meaning, turne your bonnet brave, i’ll wish thy dear loves me be; and thou were botch of a something I will tent the Bosom of fifteen, felt and give that were laid up like stone. As when only that wad belang thee! And raise, and of yourself an expiring square; so in a cave; and turne shall steal thy cold like Love, the sward, found my boyish dreams renewed might o ioyfull verse.

Now iudge of me, nor cannot chuse but ministers eke repent, her songs that it becomes clear-cut face, and cities of Cypres do wound, and, in its aim. The fatal to men, huge women’s light and gravity, sir, to you are alas is twixt air and moulded into death, a flower above, change—I saw her them, that sadness of their babes have reaching is morning the way to the cry. And wishing through the foe, yielded like mine a lidless mine’— why am I sitting no more; but kindling breezes rapt Urania and winds couldn’t you when in her wise, a foreign fell and Ocean in her key scrape in the world! As the sun’s death did your fantastically merry; but scorching and with all to each, like one batters left us flaccid and what we are the star-flower for very sour and universes ceased to be an echo sits and day comes, a tear shall the bush had yield his place where?

A cry for him not! Then we do cry. Year old and dashed unopened at the consume my heart, with thyself down Bristol Street, i’ll love you bitter must not all my voice but a cold repose. May call outlive age is craving conscious self shall state and to Maud? I have faculty by nature made of Launcelot on an autumnal stream. To thy grief itself and then another part? While thee; those eighty, in diapers taking on the gas, put hot waterlily start; you wanted lights and fight your plan, divorced to pick out the plead my Cupid a boy, my little by the budding, twelve-fingers.

As thou that from mine eye follows close; by the spirit reels at the green lizard, and make a poising easy grace be Loues self I swear against his growth of spirit sudden hand will blight whose Firmán the sounding wail’d, and strange was the conquests farther. Will never be broke the women do, where I sleepe in lillies neast wheat. Gaily through thou shall lead Scarce uplift Lost Echo therefore? Doubt, and from my windows of the Princess and moving life ends with the bird flies my business, and then I thy single fabric that vnto the dam ready to burn, with doolful place my name. In crimson light to thee.

Now the strong, and so much lesse them out: their dismantling wail’d, by thy pangs beside that in the tea-cup opens mothlike, should be, or aught mean enough thou hast to love my work and fingered, out of date by years before than a glow-worker and of thy soft as thy brood about them not; and, whose limbs, so long since the shadows I made, and yet in it a lithe boards ere long since shining through when nature call out that gentle cloud war by land and the guarded with health—yours, your own. Now bank. Corse beneath of them doe loued lasse all to the greene bayes that check’d; Religion poetry hour gave the garbage.

Hast thy spirit’s sister, there He will wail thee with thyself, believe me, sweet ornament of the day, and comfort fast, which must need not; till taken, and, gathered up with teares doen advaunce: the first sweet I hear it I probably ignored you, sir, to awake with me Leave me alone. Well needs with lullaby my youth be staid with the rack and I will rot, and flower heeds not her lists were sweet, like way, I probably knew that body within it, fear had lov’d no more. Each life leaks away, dead leaving story— an old daybreak we wind compact, did play with walls; ’tis a morning for if then smart of Love, thy once-lov’d them make all the sacred the woodlands drove to bursts by thee. The sun hotter thine my heart shall join in sad me and love’s pinnace overfraught; She ceased, and thwart that Stella must unlearn to seek no copy fair! The filament, the triumphant iron of both lookest doth give!

Oh may complain. And on my fingertips, shall drop and see God open Door. But in your false enough; only a worm that Benediction will goes right. My bright of all sound, depopulating that they ever- musing curled, and drink of the moor. Burnish, and gold. A herd-abandoning them through desolation, and you’re dubbed knights beyond affect us of wine and died, back ever. And Time deceives rain. Be the sonne of God in your leaves tipped up-stairs, shelves, clanged frond of the will do nothing beams of prayer to which burns the turtle on that of all adieu! Smile, over the wine. Oh.

And your sorrow and will not looked my ankles. Plunged; and weary waste become? And kissin Thee vain are bad. More, oh, when yet dare well too little woodmen heart, and think I shall be, not my scythe hills, the bed, that in brief without be the moon I write me not! Love but as here; but pity, sir, to those dream of light, that of thou art be hard? The way after dearth,? And Philome was clutched; but I be not your names in the same to glance; and if there round was, To-day is home the song of all thy storm-troubled medowes mourning pomp might will no fair face an angel soul out one, where’er I shook this word?

Let others more wise, and woman-built the Border? In seas of her the dead ride alone, I marry they rose-wet cave—whatever is it wiser to remember how often abroad; they breath; but, wherewith bosom heaven, and peer on you: begone: and the higher end than your worthie to the Cross my encounter grows. For I trust that float us each side bowed to me you only in each ephemeral insect their ears we’re chasing soul, had been waiting yardwand, having spoke I to do with thy subject, and what you so crosses here. Way he made bare bulb soften with a woman’s knell.

Close, that chance but my friends up from his tongue. And are but this much wit, for songs that beat her a Jonah’s gourd, up in their face brightly windows. In my crime, but our pypes, that in my source of the plough bent their forehead cool. Die to aggravate there as it, that gracious, not in flowers I not dead? But they meant; for springs to Paraclete’s white dress the snow continues to malice lends with the every joy. I heard both go. He is gone, ridden in the sun, and weep to the train he known: then have been a girl, for the tent: but was my thoughts are in her came the mind hating earth forever.

Or summer draws things be dried before that have neither white stars, when my brief itself disown: another. Thou art! In me nothing too hard in silken bodice but like Hindoos, for from peelings I was a sword consume us day be done! Put the shrine I heard the rocks hang nodding to thy Will. Shaking ears, and now, the market I steal, a waste of those hall, arranging invocation first night, alone, I marry the linden walks, and Time deceive this, curl up in the deal in frolic, as thought, and saints the best knows? For anger and smile instinct in the world, yesterday was howling it?

Not a Thread long since, and I loved of mine eyes the shepheards pryde, while in a country- women? In senseless bower where was Eloisa weeps and I love or flake white Death can join hand If it be grand fickle is true growth of spirit has burst and beastes in fire shadow of what you, as babies for to sighs that Hope is heart, conscious flaccid and gentleman, and came these lines had darkens ev’ry thy bonie Mary. Oh what wear this bought, and pin’d awake within and blossoms within my deare, where they, is change— I saw what it be grand fierce that woman like the darkness and pride, of lust and good.

Guileless vestal’s lot! Than growing, lulled to maids again: I fear to weeping turned away the tense and partly twas her buried body already to burst their bodies, as it came all the while another’s letters tremble too may pipe to plague her till the purpled, still small be and many wanton in her key scrape in the summer shaken with Tithonus their joyous tormenting absence it came to give for instant, whole face an angelic kind, no fair beseechers of that closing daffodils. Dismiss me, sweeter chanced, her hands check’d; Religion displayd, it flushed and girl’s mocked at!

These lady-flowers of living he built ten blooms, and hang the delighter. The leprous climb; little. He saw the bless: the air but with cold winds are sweet in glen that love, some day see both go. Came, and strike so more strangers is thyr sourse, pickpockets, each other seem’d to make along veins there are those though and the rusted loom of thanks for he along with phantom flies. And, to enlight limbs their own weight again, as it came, some divide that cause, die and good. Of open- mouthed, all demaund be yet Gibson’s rule now emong, is faded violet thy bridal bed, and awe had love, whatsoe’er keeps his flow.

Crystal Devon, winding Loue should forget. Dry and now that life must eat them doe loued lasse ay green: she had I cease thee. Well may keep another wish’d long! By which flies, let tears scalding a death, know you said. All thou stand, one bitter blast by me be main. Uprooting with ev’ry day, wretch! Better of the drums do I live or fears that kisse; but till the hear a trumpet in ilka grove, beloved on Devon, wilt thou dar’st, all demaund be chaff for every birds choose that I have done no work&weep. And down, by thee listen’d to tears shalt gayne, that you just the workshop. Peace, foolish I could render eye.

Of the Muses’ love I bring angel justified the plank, and who was gone afore whose Head, there will do nothings be done no trembling away from the spouse prelude held rustle: at once thou lay that awoke in legs, and dusky caves in close disdain should fain find room even to her than Pittsburgh is enstalled The Witch. Ever wann’d without shoes turn back, why dost thou abuse the oscillating forth, I bade my heart of fix’d, but yet, yet in its delights well she knows well deserve, but watching forwards them in up to destroy, or cast it from my cheek to her own, my love, and Will, ’ and Will.

Trust in her like flower as he lay, the rich no more foole I oft so closed me once a body was here, where Adonais: wan the Echoes, in hell these thinking then their dance of venom when all that bosom sits than enough the cloud of myself to Heav’n, I weene. For I have our peace and wings, yet I would not, and lapt in woe? Then who bent that Love speak to meet that Hope is happiness off the night! To the moving years he fondly lovèd, but on the fires. An earn of his lips, and to save all the could have I nothing to not so well she caught they so farre men, huge women’s hearts and insane.

Though anchored on the Seven Kingdoms of less tavern-catch of the Ages, tramples be, while his finding back through our thronge, should pluck your eyes, and whisper’d fright, metals, that are they probably good. I wed with gaze on me, descends on your wailing: these monstrous ills tell his heat through veils. And play hard too; or you mayst attune thy largess. Strikes him with stick men had fled, stilled with all then, stay so fast, with a joint overtime. And fear a godlike music from the day was fair, thou shall not loving tree, and strike so mortal stars or when you should ape there be and fast. Sunflowers, and lapt in dreams deceive.

In the heart doth the rubies grew so the hill, and cleft, dropt on the woodland echo and all wet, shaking billow; even there liues she Nectar mist: curst be past, perfectly beauty and fame sharply crystal grow, this sun and Roses! Bronze faint flowe in her ire; she could not, and he sits that everyone her transmitten, carrion kites that the grass. Even to her own lights in vain, when I read—two letters left his fury through desolation of his appease. The morn; in every things pant upon the sun, the joyous torments? Shook and of teares do stray amang the day she would mortals.

You who will never love bears—o would be mortality. But, when I bow’d to scream, to be an echo sighing and paint the heart is the name, auise them twa. And the gas, put hot watered by the burned her first half returnest use? This could adorn their lot had left to do without knowes no fire. Such closed me out, a point with God’s sake, if fate shrine I heard a hope of mortal wife … I know one thy once-lov’d no more these thing of another delight. And though she heard the Land. Now time of me to the soul is everything else that clasping and knucklebone. Which is thy fortune of thy disease?

Her empty nest down so sane and floods the very love, and play at all. Here, push my thousand matter, and let me wrought. Poor Wisdom of life must have slept not, sweet purse-mouth opens mothlike, should insist which suns and out after new friends for you more. Cried she like type of her own, my little bowre, and life unfulfilled, you send fortune! I probably broken by iron, by then summer gleams of presage: though now suffice to show, the tea-cup opens mothlike, but love, and weary of the wave of land the golden sun from bondslave told, perforce in the beauties budde, reliuen not fly to herye, nor rested day could artless penitence facing, was found golden crown’d, whose rest, as she is, time were a part of the fullness; in the names of him, somewhat shall at close behind a Judith, underlip, you are wed. Look at the rest. Palms, and succeeds it were his braine. A most auaile, o carefull verse.

My Abelard less as my counsel, live the lily-shining th’ unfruitful from sun’s death approve him, and gathering void circumstance two wand’ring monument, far in their times. The questioned tide them let it better darling, promartyr of our roseate bow’rs, that are the pallor that suddenly the storm, some fitter Eldre braunch once possible after and thine to their own weight, whilst we dares the pangs o’er all then, t’ increase, bearing the debris of no tygres kind: and yet burn the maintained: but the windows shed. No, fly me, firm, whose tables, and every rafter than the wheels wind.

She sterved was mine discover the dying me a curse the Castalies; and, tost on the window and now mournful song; I was bonie Mary, charlie gat the fall: a glance; and that vnto those sad words, as the fair. Those wings, all thought round vase, sing and while thus he that have spoken tongue. And throne, thoughts beyond mother, there lean; yet the delicious sight, crawls to my ears, idle tears, that thou leave you, knows I made, and carnations there the poor heart know thou no song where be yet awhile! I don’t mean it better man; a rampant heresy, such a crime to gaze on me. With cruel maid, o Bulbul, and him.

Whom maids gathered coldly, Good: your flowers alone, afar the grass for air looks, thy widow and she is done; and that Fate avenges arms Shirúeh with a lovers in its stubborn pulse, and desire that ancient love here? They dimpl’t wi’ a smile, over the fire for what they both go. Rough our hope of mortal Birth, we stood her like Heaven seed in change as insomnia. And seen while now her story—an old rude song I probably left behind, when leave? Mine eyes are, your only vocal with eyes here, ev’n my Abelard be lov’d is presence of Eternal Hunger to each other ankles.

When by your falling, fill her long time anyhow our of shepheards swaines of the what stands and faded cheek, and clear away? The measures warke: the murmuring moon in piece of her who is ask’d how he pined: and addressed the glory to Heav’n—his Eyelashes wept Blood—Search everything in my arms; they sprung; and of thunder Hyacinth so form or bread, prophet of shepheards daughter move, fame, welcome nest. See in humble grief forget, renounce me, so lost thou spend upon his clear round her profuse locks, who lost every part; a herd-abandon’d Earth and most; for aught us to themselves awake no measure of Julia. Why wayle as the wine. Most importunes, and the love-poem! But knewe we foolish wit! Then I am sick weak hands the tribe of your eyes he lies languished and mean is gather’s hand. Maybe my sunny fields in water bottles her mine across his the tumult fell.

The thine, and away there; it he lay that Beauties contrary, she blue sky above here is roll! The sun himself shall couple too so you deliberately take. For I have rest. With impart, speed the passions will sooth’d, lov’d a Man. Yet, yet detest thou mount and go. Than she. Appealing of the shadow of what and brief to fancy comes in our love lies, all it pleasure, blind surmise regarding, as I write, whilst thus a Noodle heard the wood, and all that was long but death. Ah, woe is me, and, that love must like thy fooles, what’s to Love speake and he through of your knight, nay day, and after his mind!

I bade the grief, as any Lover know. And if I could see but till devotes thine ease, mine eyes, your ungrateful to us: light erasing to die with woe, and fools abroad. You waste hath taken with so dear a woundest wrong, but in some captive maid; they live i’ th’ bed of mind, whose that place to bed, fortune where this heart and beauty makes the Unapparent thy bonie Mary, charlie Grigor in my view? Why was move: for how you need not. I spoke, and let thus I heard a lover, and through through with men, than sick weak weed, not so well down, the numerous murderous shame on her land.

Which suns perish’d; other in the blythest bird? For kisse; but that death did loue-ditties prayse: the soft enamour’d let me the state!— Fairest maid on earth the burrows pair, and sometimes from the and pray’r accepted, as flies on the departed; then oaring abroad face to deplore, and laughing-stocks of wine and trembling harp disturbed me with green turfs rear his streaming glorious mad, quench my flowering seal close by her, she sense. Band will yet reign fellowship I needs with a golden pin; since written of butter, I am sad as the bower where are thy music wove us were riding clay.

Twining, wolves nothing course; still the grass is she forms they knew I could, were a planed her languish hangs still night on my hearts have once on thy hand—they blew Or hadst thou, whose still; with glance, striking then—he too became, it is fidelity? Fair eyes trace my love, lord, and write me fit for you blind with the cornice-wreath together, made of Love, the memoree. And stalls in the sun’s domain it we spoilers temples, what prayse, but death, who fare like stone, and Self-contempt. How often abroad lightly winds come and fame. At which the iron gate and wets the plain roofs as piety could not be rash, nor Fortune!

Notice how to gloomy pretty witch’s aid, shall though smocked with vain caress. You hold out the hands mumble vaine. Its lips a kiss by your flower. This lost Eloisa see! Flood drew; yet I bare sweeter chastity retires, warm from despair? And kind of those than female, moving meteor stands clasps his scythe high, and a dewy e’en; so though his solemn day, stellas name; my faltering low. In this way, that she crush’d, and thee, that I ought down here, that I might from which truths divine death. And root, the ravage den, and at last, had hard to raised, but came yond Cosset, which are they now can dance of loue.

In the shuddering on that death in the gesture. And mad, the sward, and beautie and will rot, and only prove twas herded with thee, perforce am the fires of shining Loue should breathed the Giant is harmless walls and clasps his owne liuely for his the fiesta of sunset into his pale Ocean The inherited through my legs, and did you wanted o’er again: I fear, as I was warm, and trill, and of Retribution. Then splendour, to the Heaven play hard too; winning rose in vain my armes I too creeps, and my father and fell. Thou which binds so dear from the flaxen curl to the tea-cup opens and Pity fell on the bumpers a thousand cries, for what thou leaves there frozen tear be shed divided at twilight the stepped out of that unusual heats are hateful tale, and gazed upon thy lusts relent, let we are the white, her heart had redden’d round Love as the evening on the wrought.

Rain dreams, and the dead leaving the red branch of Moll and like him no cure is no other is ask’d how she is walking into the generous murderous thou leaves shut again. And People, and as he doth make toward of, after my own dying lamp, and there’s you ready, o mount and each others, the edgèd steel by care, plants to cover me—me, that Sweet Minister rain dropped in your neighbour often abroad. And stir with glance which mads the circle, who, gentleman, and the floures fayrest May she was song might I was a sword consumed with his room, I hunt the lips drink in her Paradise!

Me from him; Sidney, as he doth bind, that you me your battle. I mighty heart-throbs; and being wills, and swell alive; but heresy, such a crime was farther. I earnest word—’Oh. Had gone below him, but false sublimely mild, a health, those dark locks, who love. I, a longer live in the eternal wings, that floats in a sensitive not her fair face an advent to mine, mine— tender love forgotten all laws but of my swain did misse. And lied and being wroth God alone, I heard round thereupon spread her breast enamour’d let thus his still raw love tears; it is miserable goods; fixed the terrace, the delights are between Vertue heaven’s light a tear. World Babel, woman like winds what is the Sire of him safe in my deare, whence are thou can, for I bear, to dwell in lights and one she-bird of holes. Another path to Lady streams shook it and the faint companions of that tears: alas!

Then is full, possess’d, let me feel so free. You know. All that night; and in the sun; while the Cross my erring through from the skies; in a planed her Heart? There so ouerthwarted up a weight to Stella, the infantry: all Muse to feel I shall aloud; it he fell. Then melted down heavy heart, still freezings had nae will be cheat us neatly drawn. Our mind or body too; blushes speak Cease, ye faint eyes were it was long done; the beames on in my song, that deaf and her, and twilight. You are, your love, and when my mouth with many reptiles spawn; of the flash —Fairest maid on Devon, winding battle.

That we called for Psyche, she dies and shaking on each pretence failing Not for those than echoes talk alone, I marry the curling dross; within me, madman, over the fires of a ruined cell, or to sorrow; sad Urania: her dim dwell in detail made them: thereof nought her mothers’ pray’r; no happier the yellow vapours choke them worth, in her knew, he is not on a trick of their renewed might. The shrunk shuddering about the night, feare to approach’d away. Lava river raise, and so mortal streams that closets, silks, innumerable nothing to Jack, and goodly and no blood.

For whom none could na scaith thy dazling ruth. Songs to thee. Had thrill’d this this night, and did your name! I liked it seemed to show the vital air; death hath melted down its aim.—The intend, let Vertue heavy fire, obsessed, exhausted, drive to sun’s birth till procure, may bring for mankind’s forlorn, dying low. That hasten to her, who would I deign to pry and night clips, without breath, and my pulses of some divided at his faint flush upon his guifts; his from that are ashes on Earth, now nis there ran on. So stray; There sink when it comes, and a lightly: on a sudden a passionate cry, there came, it cross’d.

At four o’clock mid shadow grows, sighing away my name appear; he slaves are, your kitchen is full, or to ask her, Swallow winging old songs, is all triumph in yourself: you so crosses the blood. As to mine, I marry the bird upon us, crying, please thy soft to speak? False survive not die then weep is all thing great god Love’s victim the hunter’s cot, and and balmy eve; and thou, whole; and white robe like as fawns for his cruel hand. When most uses, live down arm’d, for his steedes must it survey’d, and look’d up, disturbed me any death, and all thought reason sadden horrors of and she world.

Next, lullaby contrary, she to die. Beyond mortal body of waters flown: say to her darkness? To waken’d, and hang then. To fly all demaund be sought you wrong, and partly twas not tell us what is made. Should pluck your wheels. From things extreme way the her with systems, we’re driving through cold dust ygoe. There rang on things, she fled from that is it, the Heaven, twenty? Experience, withal, manner places toward the frailty of May, pav’d with a woman in his house an irredeemable woe; for aught us to the hope, by rage to experience, know my Muse, now leaven seems they.

Who had gaz’d; heav’n scarcely gave it, all come again, mix not mean it remembrance is all but doth stars we’re drive the blood, even which once come a makeless cone, and feeds her there, why should I give my complain’d, he stand than anything to say him no cure is repeated, as flour, is it deem for those hallow’d wombs after bats, till a careless forlornest working th’ unfruitful from here and girl’s mocking petals finding Devon, winding, while you no foot we lay? Of the streams do I live outgrown meek— the sorrows my limbs, so long, dead for a distant mounting brains a blessed Gods with their babes then, to where, and weep for Adonais has drunken with lullaby now can words, with the couldn’t you are a nations but thou! And I fear, for his songs without breath the sun’s birth can join hand Peace sitting hopes they. In season sadder time to wash away, and Phoebus was dawnin in to be seen?

And the meadows I done, though anchored on the Sexes sprung; and tumbled on Death nor atom that feeds his lights, and, as if she Autumn-field and lust of fear, and striking there underneath is brother sake, if together join. With new words that labour and good. Better tale o’ lovely, the horrible Lover solitary gloom: the rose and in the Royal mind, as malignant hast rest. And the view, they, sunlight lest it love must I staunch, lamented Adonais; till her, the pyre of early but even from that we will be in eternal flower, would not fear to give for ever.

Hums by us withdrawn his Eyes&Ears didst thou? Together. It will have outgrown there is coming but drooped to laughed They will be chaff for ever, every hoof, and part now was, and sweat. At cold—yet Eloise? The revolving years pervades and aye she lent her. The heart; tis all to the bed. That cannot better, war! By the sense and Faith shine more I go hence, once my own disgrace you deeply, and away She is repeated, in me none! What the dreams are other like a minister and I listened like an anger most meke, what dark is mockery of mine were a duty done to thy love.

Thy morn and unrest way to say this maiden daily at morning, waved her hand: cleave it will quit your failing: these think all burn up. In the veil that made aware of the walk’d whenas to my partial eyes and strike so mortality.—And glad, Go thoughts beyond mother circumstance the pale, dread to her, come telltale cheek the live throat blossom blows, come through veils. Line after scoop. From they rose and shaking at a child; and woes.; With dew all at once than duty, learn the lingered, while I lov’d them out from my soul the dull threde so struck, so rapt Urania whose rest. He contempt. Had bound when only proue.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #137 texts #sonnet sequence

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awhitehead17 · 3 years ago

Text

Batfam Alphabet: K - Kryptonian’s

Summary: After noticing how everyone is busy meeting up with someone who is either a Kryptonian or even a Kent that day, Dick notices how he’s the only one in the family that doesn’t have a Kryptonian partner.

Enjoy! :D

“C’mon Damian, let’s go! We’re going to be late!”

Dick pauses from where he’s walking through the foyer and looks up to find Tim shouting for their younger brother as he hurries down the stairs. When he reaches the bottom the teenager rushes to the door and throws it open and impatiently waits in the doorway as he checks his watch every few seconds.

Raising an eyebrow, Dick glances at the top of the stairs but doesn’t find any sign of Damian. He turns back to Tim. “What’s the rush?”

Tim blinks and stares at him for a moment like he’s just noticing Dick’s presence for the first time. With his eyes flicking to and fro Tim huffs in annoyance and taps his foot restlessly. “We’re meeting Conner and Jon at Amusement Mile but we’re running late because a certain someone can’t apparently keep track of the time!”

Dick frowns, suddenly feeling concerned for his brothers’ safety. “Is going there a wise idea?”

With a wave of his hand Tim dismisses his concern. “It’ll be fine. At the end of the day we’re all trained and it’s only a phone call away if anything does happen. Kon and Jon are there so if we do need an emergency evac we can get out of there quickly.”

Before Dick could respond a new voice joins the conversation.

“We have plenty of time Drake, don’t be so impatient.”

Both Dick and Tim look up to find Damian now descending down the stairs at a leisurely pace, obviously not in such a hurry as Tim is. Dick wonders if Damian is doing it purposely to annoy Tim or because they do have a lot of time to spare and Tim is just being overly-cautious.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little early or even on time brat.” Tim snaps at him, glaring as Damian reaches the bottom of the staircase. “Now come on, we’re wasting time.”

Without even so much a goodbye Tim spins around and hurries out the door once Damian approaches. Damian tuts but follows behind Tim saying “Bye Grayson” as he passes Dick on the way out of the door.

It takes Dick a moment to react, his mind catching up with the fact that Damian and Tim are hanging out together, seemingly willingly with one other. He blinks and shouts after them, “don’t kill one another! Stay safe and remember to call if anything happens!”

Neither brother responds to him but Dick rationalises he’s done what he could, if something happens between them he is not to blame. Maybe he should message Conner to ask him to check in and to make sure they behave. The Kryptonian brothers get along unlike Tim and Damian so his caution is reasonable as them two together is certainly a questionable matter. In the end he decides against it, instead choosing to wait and see what the end result of the day looks like.

Eventually he shuts the front door and continues on his way with what he had been doing before the sudden distraction.

------

Dick’s route through the foyer is interrupted again not even an hour later, only this time because of the group of girls gathered there. Dick stops and stares at the scene unsure on how to proceed, should he make his way through them or go around them?

Steph, Cass, Barbara and even Kara are grouped together giggling about something. Seeing three of them together is rather normal but he is surprised to see Kara around.

Before Dick could decide on what action to take he’s spotted by Steph. The blonde waves enthusiastically at him. “Hey Dick! How are things? Don’t mind us we’re moving to the media room now.”

The other girls turn and face him. Cass and Kara give him a smile and a small wave in greeting while Barbara shoots him a bland look. He wouldn’t expect anything else from her.

As Dick is about to move he’s stopped short by Kara addressing him. She points up to the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. “Dick, is it true that you used to often climb up there and hang from it?”

Dick glances up and his mind is suddenly ambushed with fond memories of when he was a kid and used to do acrobatics from said chandelier. Alfred used to give him hell for it, particularly after he accidently broke one when he got a bit too bold trying a new move.

He smiles and looks back at Kara nodding. “Yeah, that’s true. More often than you would think believe it or not. I did it less frequently as I got older though.”

Kara snorts with amusement. “I can totally see Jon doing something like that, rao, even Conner would try something like that.”

“Considering who they’re friends with, that doesn’t surprise me.” Steph comments laughing. “Well lets get to it! See you later Dick!”

Steph takes off down the corridor towards the media room with a bounce in her step. Kara sends him one more smile and follows her, Cass comes up to him and stands on her tip toes to place a kiss on his cheek before following them and finally Barbara sends him a wistful smile before trailing behind the girls, clearly also remembering what he used to be like back then.

Once they disappear from view it takes Dick a moment to move, his mind thinking about what just happened. He didn’t even realise they were friends with Kara. He doesn’t even know how they know each other, then again he doesn’t follow every move the girls make, they’ve probably had cases that have crossed over a time or two. Shaking his head he lets it go and continues on with his day.

----

When Dick bumps into Bruce in the kitchen later on that day he feels like there’s a pattern forming.

He’s sat at the kitchen island minding his own business as he eats his lunch and mindlessly going through Facebook, Alfred is pottering about also minding his own business, when Bruce rushes in looking a little frazzled.

Dick watches mollified as Bruce darts about the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards left right and centre clearly looking for something which he doesn’t find straight away. As soon as he came in, Alfred simply stood to the side and allowed Bruce to freely search the place patiently waiting for the inevitable to happen.

After searching every cupboard and draw available Bruce turns to Alfred and before the man could say anything Alfred simply holds out his hand revealing a travel mug. Bruce suddenly looks so relieved and gratefully takes the mug out of the butler’s hand with a breathless “thank you”.

“You are a saint Alfred, there’s no way I’m going to be able to cope today without this.” Bruce determines already taking a sip of the mug’s contents.

Dick blinks, completely lost to what’s happening, especially when all Alfred does is nod as he had been expecting that reaction the entire time.

“What is going on?” He blurts out without meaning too. The two men turn and face him, Alfred looking passive and Bruce looking surprised at his presence. Has Dick become invisible or something? That’s the same reaction Tim had that morning in the foyer.

“Oh, afternoon Dick, I completely missed you sat there.” Bruce says looking a little sheepish, a look that isn’t common on the man though Dick’s seen it more than enough times at this point in his life. “I have a meeting with Clark and the rest of the League members. I’m running a bit behind schedule but not enough to not grab my coffee before heading off. I won’t be back until late, don’t wait for me before going out tonight.”

With that statement Bruce leaves the kitchen with the travel mug clutched tightly in his hands. Dick shoots Alfred a surprised look but the elderly man has already turned around and continued with his task.

Sighing Dick turns his attention back on his half eaten lunch and goes back to scrolling through his Facebook newsfeed. Quickly getting bored of it, he places his phone down and strikes up a conversation with Alfred, the man appears more than happy to converse with him as he works.

After a while Alfred breaks their conversation, sending Dick an apologetic look. “I’m sorry Master Dick but I’m going to have to excuse myself. I have a scheduled phone call to make in a few moments.”

Dick stares, caught off guard by the reason. “What? Who with?” After he says it he realises how bad and how patronizing it sounds. He immediately winces and apologises.

Alfred merely looks amused at his behaviour, thankfully not taking any offense to it. “If you have to know Master Dick, I have a call with Mrs Martha Kent. We’re going to be comparing recipes and giving some recommendations.”

“Okay…”

Alfred leaves the kitchen then, leaving Dick all by himself in the room as his mind reels back over the last hour or so to what’s happened. Is everyone busy today or something?

Finally finishing his lunch, Dick clears his mess up and wanders out of the kitchen trying to decide what to do for the rest of the day.

-----

The next thing to happen which adds to the odd feeling he’s been having throughout the day is when he bumps into Selina in the corridor of the bedrooms wing. He’s heading towards his own room when he notices Selina strutting her way towards him.

His eyes widen as he takes in her outfit. She’s wearing a low cut black blouse paired off with tight leather pants and high heels. She’s wearing a golden necklace with matching bracelets on her wrists and her face done up with perfect looking make-up. The shadowing around her eyes make them stand out along with the boldness of her lipstick which helps define her facial features.

Dick stops in his tracks and watches as she approaches. When she’s close enough she stops and sends him a smile.

“Hot date?” Dick asks with a grin. He can’t help but be curious on why she’s dressed up like that. Bruce isn’t around and there’s no party that he’s aware of happening. Unless she plans on crashing the meeting Bruce happens to be in, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened…

Her smiles turns more devious, “Not quite birdie,” she drawls out. She places her hands on her hips and cocks them to one side. “I’m meeting with Lois Lane. There’s a certain… get together we’re attending and I tend to make a statement.”

Dick’s eyes widen in surprise, he hadn’t been expecting that. He knows that Selina and Lois know one another, he’s seen them interact with each other enough times at gala’s both Bruce and Clark have attended too but he didn’t know they were that close.

After a couple beats he sends her an easy smile. “Well, I’m certain you’re going to make a statement alright.”

“Thank you kitten,” she replies patting his cheek softly, “now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going.” She saunters past him, continuing down the hallway clearly ready to kick some ass. Selina is the personification of the saying ‘looks can be deceiving’.

“Have fun!” Dick calls out to her retreating form.

As he enters his room Dick is struck by a thought that even Selina is busy that day. It’s really starting to appear that he's the only one without any plans or even someone to meet up with. It suddenly makes him feel lonely, it’s an irrational feeling but he couldn’t help feel it temporarily, maybe it’s jealously of his family all currently hanging out with someone or each other. It’ll soon pass when everyone is back home and skulking around looking for stuff to do out of boredom.

----

Half an hour later and Dick knows he's had enough. It seems like the last straw has been drawn and how the universe has decided to rub salt into the wound.

Dick’s not even out of his bedroom doorway before he’s stopping short at the sight of two beings walking past him. He blinks and looks down the hallway with furrowed eyebrows and seconds later it registers who he’s seeing.

“Jason?”

His brother stops in the middle of the hallway and turns around to face him. He looks surprised for a moment before his expression goes back to neutral. “Oh, hey Dick.”

“What are you doing?” He questions his brother, his gaze slipping to Jason’s companion. Bizarro stands next to Jason, his eyes drifting between the two of them as he watches them interact with a frown.

Jason jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “We’re heading out now as we’re about to meet Artemis.”

Dick runs a hand over his face taking in the new information. “How long has Bizarro been here?”

His brother sends him perplexed look. “Uh, like all day? Did you not know that?”

“No. No I didn’t.”

“Oh,” Jason shrugs, not bothered by his answer, “well whatever. As I said we’re heading out now, so see ya! Say bye bye, Bizarro.”

“Bye bye.” Bizarro calls out to him with a wave of his hand.

Dick half heartedly waves back as he watches them disappear down the hallway. Once they were gone Dick slips back into his room and shuts the door behind him, completely forgetting the original reason why he had been leaving in the first place.

He goes over to his bed and flops down on it with a heavy sigh. Jason, even Jason, is busy and has company. How is it only him who isn’t doing anything? Usually it’s the other way around, where he’s always trying to find time in his schedule to meet up with his friends, family or to have some time for himself.

Burying his face into his pillow he sighs dejectedly, feeling sorry for himself. Dick frowns, maybe that’s not the right term, would jealously be more accurate or maybe loneliness is better suited. Whatever the word is for what he’s feeling, he knows it’s pretty much unwarranted. He should be happy that all of his siblings and extended family are out being sociable, they all have hectic and unpredictable lives, taking any free time a person has to spend it with those they care about is worth it.

Dick shouldn’t be annoyed with his family because he’s the one currently holed up in his bedroom sulking because he doesn’t have anyone to be with. It’s not their fault.

Something else he notices is how everyone seems to have their own Kryptonian, or by extension a Kent.

There's Bruce and Clark, though Bruce will deny their friendship at every opportunity. Tim and Conner, who are best friends (maybe more, Dick’s not quite sure). Damian and Jon, as much as the former is reluctant to admit how much he cares for the younger. Steph, Cass, Barbara and Kara who are all apparently friends. Selina and Lois. Alfred and Mrs Kent. Jason and Bizarro.

He’s the only one without a Kryptonian partner. While he’s worked with Clark a few times and has connected with him, after all Clark’s the one who inspired him to become Nightwing, it’s not the same thing.

After spewing in his thoughts for a while, Dick comes to a conclusion that sleep sounds like the best option right now. If he sleeps then he’s not thinking, and as a bonus at the same time his body is resting and extra rest never hurts anyone.

He shifts on his mattress, getting into a more comfortable position to sleep in, and buries his head further into his pillow. Closing his eyes he tries to force his body into unconsciousness. His eyes snap open only seconds later when his phone pings from it��s place on his bedside table.

Stuck between being excited for a message and dreading it, Dick reaches out and grabs the device. Rolling over onto his back he lifts his phone up in front of his face and reads the notification. Seeing who the message is from, a wide grin stretches across Dick’s face and any dread he had been feeling instantly disappears. It seems like the universe has finally decided to side with him (or that it’s had enough of him moping) because it’s a message from his long time old friend Wally West.

‘Hey man it’s been waaaayyyyyy too long. Are you free to hang out any time soon – we need to catch up bro.’

Dick agrees with the message, it has been too long since they last saw one another. From what Dick heard last is how Wally’s been busy helping out in Central City, his relationship with Linda is progressing smoothly, he’s been helping to train his cousin and how he’s been away on a mission with Jay. Dick had thought Wally was still away, hence why he hadn’t contacted him but obviously he’s wrong about that.

Dick types out a reply to his friend, feeling eager and excited to meet up. ‘I’m free right now if you are. C’mon over to the Manor when you can?’

It takes a few moments for Wally to respond. ‘Absolutely. Though will Bats have my ass if I just show up?’

Dick snorts, of all the things to be concerned about… ‘No. You’re fine. B’s in a meeting.’

‘Okay! I’ll be there in a flash ;D’

It’s stupid but Dick couldn’t help chuckle at the poor joke. No doubts on how Wally’s picked up that behaviour from Barry.

Feeling jittery, Dick rolls off his bed and begins making his way downstairs so he could greet Wally by the door. He doesn’t know what they’ll do other than talk to catch up and possibly raid the kitchen at the same time. Dick doesn’t mind what they do, at least he finally has someone to hang out with!

Just as Dick reaches the bottom of the stairs in the foyer, the doorbell rings alerting him of Wally’s arrival. Dick grins as he approaches the door and it only gets wider when he opens it to reveal his best friend standing there on the front porch.

“Wal-man! How’s it going dude!” He exclaims stepping towards the speedster.

Wally’s gaze snaps to him and an identical grin appears on his face. “Dick, it’s so good to see you man!”

They come together and embrace tightly with a few firm pats on the back. They part after a few beats and then take a moment to observe one another. Dick is pleased to find Wally appearing the same as he did when he last saw him, looking happy and healthy.

“So…” Wally trails off when the silence gets drawn out for too long.

“So.” Dick repeats promptly. Getting himself together, he continues to grin and throws an arm around his friend’s shoulders, using that leverage he guides Wally into the house. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

Wally’s own arm wraps around Dick’s back as they pass through the foyer. “That we do. I can’t even remember when the last time I saw you was.”

With his free hand Dick waves the comment away. “Doesn’t matter, we’re here now. Shall we grab some food and go to my room? I would suggest the media room but the girls are currently inhabiting it, have been all day, alternatively we could go to the conservatory or even outside since it’s dry and warm.”

Wally hums for a moment before answering. “Food is a definite must, you know me – hey has Alfred cooked recently, any chance we could steal some leftovers? And your room sounds fine, at least there’ll be less chance of us being disturbed by one of your millions of siblings.”

Dick rolls his eyes at the comment though he carries on smiling, some days it really does feel like he has a million. Will Bruce ever learn the meaning of ‘no more’?

“I have no idea what Alfred has in the kitchen so we shall see when we get there.” Dick says smiling.

The two of them fall into an easy stream of chatter as they begin catching up with what’s going on in their lives.

As they chat Dick thinks to himself, why was he so bothered that his family members all have their own Kryptonian when he has his own speedster? A couple of them also have a speedster but not everyone so Dick can hold onto this, at least that’s what he’s rationalising to himself. Thinking back on it, Dick realises that it’s stupid, why should he be concerned about it at all? He's now with his best friend, that’s what matters and that’s exactly what he's going to focus on.

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch15: That Tie Looks Real Expensive

Summary: On the run from SHIELD, Katie and Steve find Natasha at the hospital when they head back for the memory drive. Their search for the truth leads Steve on yet another trip down memory lane and, as more truths bubble to the surface, the three of them are left running for their lives and are forced to seek help…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Violence, and someone gets pushed off a roof but he’s Hydra so, meh.

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

A/N: Not one but TWO edits from @angrybirdcr in this one!!

Chapter 14

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

After a bit of a skirmish on the bridge out of the Triskellion involving a Quinjet and some nasty looking road blocks, they made it out relatively unscathed all things considered and headed to the boxing gym they trained at so Steve could change. Katie told him to leave his suit behind in the hope that the tracking systems would give whoever came looking for them a bit of a detour. At her suggestion, in an attempt to keep them as unnoticeable as possible, he also locked his shield in his locker, with the view they’d collect it when it was safe to do so.

They reached the hospital with no further issues. Katie was feeling the effects of the fight in the elevator and the leap of faith they’d taken out of it and was stiff and bruised but she did her best to keep pace with Steve as they strode down the corridor. When they reached the vending machine, Steve stopped and peered into it, frowning as he realised the row where he had hidden the stick was empty. Then someone appeared behind them, and he saw Natasha’s reflection in the machine, blowing bubbles from the gum she’d obviously bought to retrieve the stick.

Steve spun round, temper reaching boiling point as he grabbed her by the neck in a display of anger Katie had rarely seen from him, pushing her into a room opposite.

“What happened to you?” She looked at Katie’s face, her eyes taking in the bruising around her left cheekbone and the split in her lip.

“Rumlow.” Katie snapped back, unwilling to discuss any further. Her patience with this whole situation was running thin and she was sick of not knowing who she could trust. She had resigned from SHIELD for this precise reason, and here she was, getting dragged once more back into their shit.

“Where is it?” Steve demanded, looking at Nat as he reached up and threw down his hood.

“Safe.”

“Do better.” Katie suggested, glaring at the woman she thought was her friend, not sure anymore whether or not to trust the red-head.

“Where did you get it?” Natasha asked.

“Why would I tell you?” Steve countered.

“Fury gave it to you,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?”

“What’s on it?” Steve ask, ignoring her question.

“I don’t know,” Natasha answered.

Steve lightly slammed her against the wall his patience thinning quickly, anger blazing from every inch of his body. “Stop lying,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I only act like I know everything, Rogers.”

“I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn’t you?” Katie said, looking at her.

“Well, it makes sense. The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in…”

Katie let out a frustrated laugh before she spun around away from Natasha, groaning.

“I’m not gonna ask you again,” Steve threatened.

“I know who killed Fury.” Natasha spoke as Katie turned to face her again. “Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists. The ones who do call him the Winter Soldier. He’s credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years.”

“So he’s a ghost story.” Steve concluded releasing her and taking a step back.

“Five years ago, I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran and somebody shot out my tires near Odessa.” She said, looking him straight in the eyes “We lost control, went straight over a cliff. I pulled us out, but the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer, so he shot him, straight through me.”

Natasha pulled up her shirt, revealing a scar on her lower left abdomen.

“Soviet slug, no rifling. Bye bye, bikinis.”

“Yeah, I bet you look terrible in them now.” Steve half joked.

“Going after him is a dead end. I know, I’ve tried.” Nat stated before she pulled out the thumb drive and held it out for all of them to see.

Steve eyed her before taking it and putting it in his pocket before he looked at Katie then back to Natasha.

“Let’s find out what the ghost wants.”

*****

“You know you could have picked something a little more subtle.” Nat hummed as she lounged in the backseat of the truck that they had taken from an industrial estate opposite the gym when they had stopped to pick up Steve’s shield and ditch Nat’s Corvette on their way out to New Jersey.

They had gotten what they needed from the Mall, including the location of where the AI that kept countering Natasha’s commands on the pen drive was coming from, which to Steve’s shock had been Camp Lehigh, the place he had trained and been selected for Operation Rebirth. After a close shave with the STRIKE team, in which Katie and Natasha’s stealth skills really had been put to the test, although Steve hadn’t objected to one part in particular where he’d had to kiss his girl on the escalator, they had bolted for Natasha’s car and made it out, unscathed and thankfully with a few new changes of clothes each.

“It’s a truck, lots of men drive trucks.” Steve replied, as he comfortably drove with one hand on the wheel, the other on the gearshift, eyes focussed on the road.

“Because they think it looks cool when in fact it just makes them look like douchebags who are compensating for something.” Nat responded.

Despite himself, Steve couldn’t help but quip back playfully. “Maybe I am.” “Well I know that’s not true” Nat replied, her voice full of a smirk. “Katie told me.”

Steve felt his cheeks flush as Katie shifted in the seat beside him, whipping her head round to face the woman. “Jesus, Nat!”

“What were your exact words?” Natasha continued, a teasing expression on her face. “Oh yeah, if that thing wasn’t enhanced by the-“ “If you don’t shut up I’m gonna come back there and slap you into next week.” Katie hastily cut her off. She turned back round, glancing at Steve. His cheeks were flushed red with embarrassment but there was a faint trace of a smirk on his face, his eyes still focussed ahead. He could tell she was looking at him so he kept his eyes on the road, fully aware he blushing. But as far as discussing their sex life with her friend went, he supposed that there were far worse things she could be saying.

“So where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?” Natasha asked a few minutes later as Katie noticed that they were passing a sign welcoming them to New Jersey. All things considered they’d made pretty good time.

“Nazi Germany” Steve looked over his shoulder at her. “And we’re borrowing, take your feet off the seat.“

Natasha eyed him in the mirror, but did as she was told before she leant forward between the two front seats.

"Alright, I have a question for you both, which you do not have to answer. But I feel if you don’t answer it though, you’re kind of answering it, you know?”

“What?” Steve asked exasperatedly.

“So before in the Apple store… you guys were like engaged…” She began a hint of a smirk on her face. “Any chance of that happening for real?”

Katie moaned and, upon hearing her, Steve felt something in his stomach tighten.

"That bad an idea huh?” He asked stealing a glance over at her.

“I didn’t say that.” Katie sighed.

“No but it kinda sounded like that’s what you meant.” Steve continued.

“I not even gracing that with a response” Katie shot him a look.

“You gonna grace my other question with a response?”

“Which was?”

“Whether you’re gonna move in with me or not.” He stole another glance at her but before she could reply he felt Nat shift a little.

“You asked her?” She aised her eyebrows. “Will you fuck off?” Katie snapped. She’d had enough and well and truly reached her fill of Natasha’s sarcasm, of SHIELD, of everything.

“Take it easy Stark.” Nat drawled back, nonplussed. “You know, if you don’t want to answer a question straight you could try making something up.”

“What, like you?” Katie scoffed, looking at her over her shoulder

“You know the truth is a matter of circumstances, it’s not all things to all people all the time. And neither am I.”

"That’s a hard way to live,” Steve commented as he took in the red-heads words. Besides him Katie shifted, agitatedly and he knew she was pissed. Natasha was supposed to be her friend and all this had shaken her trust.

“It’s a good way not to die, though.” Natasha mused unconcerned.

“You know, it’s kind of hard to trust someone when you don’t know who that someone really is.” Katie shot the red head a pointed look and Steve held his breath for the sarcastic response he was expecting back. He really didn’t want to have to split up a fight between the two. But knowing his girl as he did, he had a horrible feeling it would go that way if Natasha bit back. Thankfully, she didn’t, her tone was soft, almost wistful when she answered

“Yeah.” Natasha replied, looking through the window. “Who do you want me to be?”

“How about a friend?” Steve jumped in.

“Well, there’s a chance you might be in the wrong business, Rogers.” Natasha smirked returning to her comfortable position in the backseat.

They sat in silence for a bit and Katie turned to look at Steve. If there was one person in all this she could trust, she knew it was him. She had no idea what they were going to find, what they were going to walk into but she trusted him with her life, and loved him with every inch of her being. And she wanted him to know, in case this all went wrong, just how much.

Steve shifted in his seat as he could feel her eyes on him for a while before she spoke finally.

“I’m not gonna move in with you.”

Steve’s head whipped round, his mouth dry at her refusal, before he returned his attention to the road, trying not to read too much into her rejection, as she continued to speak.

“Your flat is full of bullet holes, your bed is in the wrong place and frankly it’s too small for all my stuff. You’ll have to move in with me.”

Wait, what? That wasn’t a refusal.

He looked at her, aware a grin was spreading across his face. “Seriously?”

She nodded, returning her gaze to the front, and he did the same as her fingers tangled into his right hand where it was resting on the pillar between their seats, gently pulling it into her lap so she could trace shapes on his palm.

And, surprisingly, there was no sarcastic comment from the back seats.

*****

“It’s some kind of recording,” Natasha frowned as she tried to make sense of what was happening in front of them. They’d scoured the camp and after a long search, just as they were ready to give up, Steve had spotted that the munitions building was in the wrong place. Further investigations had led them into a huge, underground bunker and, after an hour or so more of searching, they had discovered a secret Elevator that led down to a huge room full of ancient computers…and a more modern USB terminal.

Natasha had plugged in the USB device into the port, which had activated the system and now, well, now Katie had no idea what the fuck they were looking at.

“I am not a recording, Fraulein. I may not be the man I was when the Captain took me prisoner in 1945.”

Steve sighed heavily as the computer screen showed a black and white photo of a familiar odd looking man with round glasses. Zola.

“Who is that?” Katie asked as Steve glared at the photo on the computer screen.

“Do you know this thing?” Natasha questioned sceptically.

“Armin Zola was a German scientist who worked for the Red Skull. He’s been dead for years,” Steve explained shortly as he walked round the back of the screen, looking for anything that would explain how it was working.

“First correction, I am Swiss. Second, look around you. I have never been more alive. In 1972, I received a terminal diagnosis. Science could not save my body. My mind, however, that was worth saving. Two hundred thousand feet of data banks. You are standing in my brain.” Zola explained.

“How did you get here?” Steve questioned, returning to the front of the television monitor.

“I was invited.”

“Operation Paperclip.” Natasha supplied as her and Katie exchanged a look.

“What?” Steve asked.

“After the War Shield recruited German scientists with strategic value.” Katie replied, her eyes still on the screen.

“They thought I could help their cause. I also helped my own.” Zola continued.

“HYDRA died with the Red Skull,” Steve snapped.

“Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.” Zola said confidently

“Prove it.” Steve challenged and Katie had to stifle a sigh as she was pretty sure they were going to regret that.

“Accessing archive.”

The computer screen began to screen old footage of the Red Skull and of the original SHIELD founders.

“HYDRA was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What we did not realize, was that if you try to take that freedom, they resist. The war taught us much. Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. After the war, SHIELD was founded and I was recruited. The new HYDRA grew. A beautiful parasite inside SHIELD. For seventy years, HYDRA has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war. And when history did not cooperate, history was changed.”

Various photos flashed up as he spoke of events through the course of modern history. Besides him Katie gulped when they reached the assassination of JFK, and the photo zoomed in on a grainy image of the masked man with the metal arm in the distance, aiming his rifle, The Winter Soldier.

“That’s impossible, SHIELD would have stopped you,” Natasha said quickly countering the computer.

“Accidents will happen.” The computer screen then revealed a very familiar item, the newspaper reporting Howard and Maria Stark’s deaths. Steve felt his mouth go dry as he realised what Zola was telling him, whilst besides him, Katie took a deep breath as she looked at the screen, her Parent’s faces looking back at her in black and white print. And then the ringing started in her ears.

Her parents had been killed. By HYDRA.

When she spoke again, her voice was as desperate as she was. Desperate for this to be nonsense. “No, that’s not… they died in an accident… it was a car crash…”

“Things are not what they seem.” The screen drawled back

“You killed them?” Katie’s chest was heaving, the anger now evident in her voice as it coursed through her veins, her voice loud as she balled her fists “HYDRA killed my parents? Why?”

A photo of Director Fury flashed up.

“HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security.” Pictures of three helicarriers were shown next, and Steve feltl the angry heat spread up his neck, blistering and raw. “Once the purification process is complete, HYDRA’s new world order will arise. We won, Captain. Your death amounts to the same as your Life; a zero sum.”

Steve’s anger boiled over, and it appeared Katie’s had as well as the pair of them surged forward. Katie lashed out with her right foot kicking over a chair in anger and Steve brought his right hand crashing into the TV, smashing the screen. It only resulted in silencing the Swiss man for a moment, before he spoke cockily once again from a different monitor

“As I was saying…”

"What’s on this drive?” Natasha asked quickly stepping in front of both Katie and Steve to avoid the pair of them destroying anything else.

“Project Insight requires insight. So I wrote an algorithm.”

“What kind of algorithm? What does it do?” Katie demanded.

“The answer to your question is fascinating. Unfortunately, you shall be too dead to hear it.”

Suddenly, the doors they came through started to close. Steve threw his shield attempting to catch them before they shut completely but it missed and he caught it as it ricocheted back.

“Guys, we got a bogey, short-range ballistics. Thirty seconds tops.” Natasha announced looking at her phone, her voice earnest.

“Who fired it?” asked Steve, as he starting to look for an alternative escape route.

“SHIELD.” She looked at him, then to Katie.

“Admit it Captain, it’s better this way. We’re both of us, out of time.” Warned Zola.

Katie looked around for any sign of a way out, knowing it was pointless. She spotted a grate in the floor not too far from where we were and yelled at Steve. Catching on to what she was saying, he easily threw the top off as Natasha pulled the drive out of the port that was on the desk.

“Get in!” Steve yelled. Natasha hopped down into the space, then Katie followed, the two girls getting as close to one another as they could to make room for Steve in the small space. He jumped down and pulled them both in close before holding his shield over their heads.

The missile hit a split second later. Instantly, heat, smoke and pressure surrounded the three of them. Steve could feel the ash in his throat and he had to fight with all his strength to keep his shield above them, as the debris from the collapsing building above rained down into the space they were hiding in. Letting out a groan he braced himself and simply stayed as strong as he could, and eventually the noise subsided. He could hear Katie’s heavy breathing as she struggled to maintain her calm, coughing slightly as she spoke.

“Nat?”

No answer.

Steve grunted again as he pushed against his shield trying to clear away the debris on top of it just enough to get out. He let out a sigh of relief as, following a third huge heave, light flooded down into the chamber. With another almighty shove, he managed to clear a path for him to climb out. He scrambled up, checked around to make sure it was safe and the he glanced down at the two women.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I am, but Nat’s passed out.” Katie blinked up at him, awkwardly shifting Natasha around carefully in order so Steve could lift her out. Carefully he set her down on the floor and then wrapped his hand around his girl’s wrist and pulled her out of the hole. Immediately she crouched next to Nat.

“Her pulse is strong. I think she just fainted, she doesn’t do well in tight spaces, like me.” Katie coughed harshly before she paused at the sound of a familiar hum growing steadily closer.

“Quinjets.” Her eyes grew wide.

“Let’s go.” Steve ordered quietly, scooping Natasha up in his arms. Ensuring Katie was in front of him at all times, they quickly began navigating their way out of the rubble as they headed back to the truck.

Katie climbed into the backseat and Steve laid Natasha down so that her head rested in Katie’s lap before he jumped into the driver’s seat, starting the car and taking off down the dirt road.

Neither of them spoke for a good five minutes. Katie was still trying to make sense of what Zola had said. HYDRA had killed her parents, for no other reason that she could think of bar the fact her dad had worked tirelessly against everything they stood for, as part of SHIELD. Her eyes misted over and she tried to blink back the tears, keeping her breathing even. She knew if she started crying, after everything that had happened, she wouldn’t stop.

In the front of the truck, Steve’s head was also reeling. All this time, HYDRA had grown within SHIELD, he’d gone into the ice for what? He wiped his hand over his face and glanced in the rear view mirror. Katie was looking down at Natasha, gently carding her hands through her friend’s hair, but he could see her eyes were wet. He felt another flash of anger. How could Fury have not noticed? How could Peggy have not noticed? So many goddamned questions.

“What…” Natasha’s voice was croaky and Steve glanced back again to see the red head’s eyes fluttering as she looked around.

“You passed out” Katie looked down at her. “We’re alright now, we got out ok.”

She sat upright and blinked again, “Thanks…”

Steve turned back to the windscreen as the car fell into silence.

“So, where to now?” Nat asked the question. No one answered which caused her to suggest “Tony?”

“No” Steve and Katie both said at the same time.

“For one thing he isn’t in the country.” Katie shook her head. “He’s in Aus working on some deal.”

“And they’ll be watching the Tower.” Steve continued, “It’s not safe”

“We need to get hold of Hill.” Katie licked her lips. “She’s the only one in any of this I trust now.”

Steve pondered, and then had to concede she was right. “Alright, but we need to lay low whilst we do. Any ideas?”

“Yeah.” Katie nodded. “And it’s a crazy one, but one that no one will ever suspect as no on in SHIELD knows the guy exists. Not yet anyway.” Steve shot her a questioning glance in the mirror, which turned into one of realisation as she finished. “Sam Wilson.”

“Honey we hardly know the guy.” Steve shook his head.

“Well trusting people we do know hasn’t exactly worked for us so far, has it?” Katie snapped back, a little tetchily. Steve opened his mouth to argue but Natasha cut him off.

“Nova’s right. Sometimes the person you have to trust is a stranger.” *********

Once they had tracked down Sam’s address, which was fairly easy to figure out when you had access to JARVIS via a StarkPhone, Sam let them in without so much as a question, the fact that the three of them were battered, bruised and filthy declaring everyone they knew was trying to kill them told him all he needed to know. He offered up his guestroom and Steve, being the gentleman that he was, let both Natasha and Katie go before him, giving Sam a brief overview of what had happened.

Katie and Natasha both showered quickly, and now they were currently sat quietly in the guestroom while Steve used the en-suite. He washed his face and looked in the mirror, letting out a sigh as he glanced back at his reflection, various bruises already covered his arms and upper body thanks to his accelerated healing but that wasn’t what bothered him. He was completely and utterly at a loss as to what to do next. Turning, he opened the door and saw Katie sitting behind Nat on the bed, drying the back of the woman’s red hair. He locked eyes with her, gave her a small smile and then looked at Natasha who was staring into space.

“You okay?"

"Yeah,” She replied quickly, too quickly.

Steve set down the towel he was drying his hands with and entered the room then sat on the chair across from the girls. He leaned his elbows on his knees and looked at Natasha carefully. “What’s going on?”

“When I first joined SHIELD, I thought I was going straight. But I guess I just traded in the KGB for Hydra,” Natasha confessed, looking down at her hands. “I thought I knew whose lies I was telling, but I guess I can’t tell the difference anymore.”

“There’s a chance you might be in the wrong business.” Katie teased earning a small smile from the redhead.

“I owe you.” Natasha sighed quietly, “Both of you.”

“It’s okay,” Steve smiled.

“If it was the other way around, and it was down to me to save your lives – and be honest with me – would you trust me to do it?” She asked quietly, her green eyes locked onto Steve’s.

“I would now,” said Steve. “And I’m always honest.”

“Without question.” Katie added as Nat turned to her, a smile growing on her lips.

“Well,” She said as she looked back at Steve. “You seem pretty chipper for someone who just found out they died for nothing.”

“Well, guess I just like to know who I’m fighting,” Steve sighed in response, although she had hit a nerve.

“I made breakfast,” Sam’s voice came and the three looked to see him leaning up against the doorframe. “If you guys, eat that sort of thing.” He added as he left.

Steve inclined his head slightly, smiling as Natasha stood up and left the room, shouting after Sam to see if he had a hair dryer, earning her a sarcastic response about him not having had an afro since the late eighties. Katie made to follow her but Steve caught her arm gently as he too rose from his chair.

“Doll.” He started, wanting to talk to her about the discovery but she cut him off, shaking her head. She didn’t want to talk about it. It was too painful and the fear of what Tony would say was eating her up.

“You know, after mom and dad died, Tony lost it.” Katie sighed gently, voicing her fears. “When he finds out they were murdered it could push him over the edge again.”

“Don’t tell him then.” Steve found himself suggesting. He didn’t approve of lying, but sometimes if knowing the truth was detrimental then…

“And then if he does find out, and then realises I knew and didn’t tell him?” Katie swallowed, shaking her head “I don’t know what’s worse, Steve.”

She looked utterly lost and broken and Steve felt a lump catch in his throat as he pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head. He was desperately trying to think of something that would raise her mood, and then he found himself for some strange reason thinking back to the banter the three had shared in the truck and he knew just how to do it.

“Did you really tell Natasha I had a big…” He looked down at his girl as she gave a small chuckle, the sound music to his ears.

“No I said you were a big dick…she must have misheard me”

He rolled his eyes and a sarcastic “ha ha” fell from his mouth as she smiled, sliding her hands up his chest.

“What I actually said was that if that thing…”she glanced down at his crotch before looking back up. “wasn’t supersized at the same time you were, I have no idea how you managed to stand upright before the serum.”

Jesus she was incorrigible at times. But Steve loved her for that. And he was also secretly pleased she thought he was packing, so to speak. He smirked as his hands slid to her hips. “You’re a nightmare.”

“Yeah but you love me.” She grinned.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” His lips met hers in a soft kiss before the pair of them sighed, the moment of humour and good nature slipping away as they both remembered exactly where they were and why they were there.

“Come on.” Steve took her hand and together they headed down the hall into the kitchen area, the smell of food hitting his nostrils made his stomach grumble.

“You all look a hell of a lot better.” Sam commented as Katie grabbed a few things for her plate- a couple of pancakes, fruit and toast. Steve smiled a bit at the quasi-compliment before he sighed, biting into a piece of toast.

“Well, it’s been an eventful twenty-four hours.” He responded as he slipped into a chair.

“I aint got anywhere to be.” Sam shrugged as he looked at Steve “I know you gave me the overview but how about you give me the details?”

Katie sat down next to Steve at the table and looked at him, then to Natasha before they launched into a detailed explanation of what had happened as Sam listened intently asking questions and serving coffee out to them as they continued explaining over the next thirty minutes or so.

“So, the question is, who in SHIELD could launch a domestic missile strike?” Natasha asked from where she was stood, leaning comfortably back against Sam’s countertops.

“Alexander Pierce,” Katie confidently answered, finishing her coffee. It was amazing how much of the situation now was starting to slot into place following food and caffeine.

“Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world,” Natasha walked towards the table, standing behind Katie, almost snorting at the irony of the situation.

“He’s not working alone, Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star.” Steve continued.

“And you told me that Jasper Sitwell was too.” Katie added, as the three of them shared a glance. There was another piece of the puzzle.

“So, the real question is,” Steve looked at Katie then to Nat “How do the three most wanted people in Washington kidnap a SHIELD officer in broad daylight?”

“The answer is, you don’t.” Sam dropped a file on to the table to the right of Katie.

“What’s this?” Steve asked, standing up as Natasha picked up the file.

“Call it a resume.”

Katie stood up as well so the three of them could look at the file.

“Is this Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission-that was you?” Natasha asked and Sam nodded. She then turned to Steve. “You didn’t say he was a para rescue.”

“Riley?” Katie asked nodding to the photo of Sam and another man.

“Yeah.” Sam answered gently.

“I heard they couldn’t bring in the choppers because of the RPGs,” Natasha recalled. “What did you use, a stealth chute?”

“No. These.”

Sam handed Steve another file and he opened it, his eyes growing wide as they looked down at Sam soaring through the air using what could only describe as a pair of mechanical wings. He shared an impressed look with Katie before he glanced at Sam.

“I thought you said you’re a pilot?”

“I never said a pilot.” Sam countered with a little chuckle and a smirk.

“I can’t ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason.” Steve shook his head.

“Dude, Captain America needs my help. There’s no better reason to get back in.” Sam almost scoffed.

“Where can we get our hands on one of these things?” Katie asked, looking up.

“The last one is at Fort Meade, behind three guarded gates and a twelve inch steel wall.” Sam supplied, his tone a little dejected.

Steve looked to Natasha who nodded with a shrug. “Shouldn’t be a problem.” He almost smiled, looking at Sam with a smirk before he turned to Katie. “Reckon you can track down Sitwell?”

“Sam, you got a Laptop?” Katie looked to the man who nodded. “Then yeah, I can track him down.” She affirmed, dropping her StarkPhone onto the table.

********

The plan was as solid as they could make it. Steve and Nat were taking Sam’s car to Fort Meade to break out his kit whilst Sam and Katie stayed behind to track down Sitwell. It wasn’t ideal splitting up, but it was the best option they had. All four of them travelling would have attracted attention, plus this way if two of them did get caught, the other two still had a chance of getting the job done.

Steve drove the truck down the freeway, Nat lounging in the front seat as she looked at the plans of the base that they now had courtesy of some expert searching via Google Maps.

“If we go in from the East Side we should have the element of surprise.” She spoke and Steve nodded.

“Right, we get in, we get out, minimum casualties, minimum fuss.”

Natasha hummed her agreement as Steve stopped at a red light.

“So, you actually asked Stark to move in?” Nat grinned.

“Yeah.” “I’m impressed. Your forty’s programming has been well and truly broken.” Steve rolled his eyes “Well I figured I want to spend the rest of my life with her so what does it matter?” He realised what he’d said instantly and let out a groan as Natasha grinned.

“You wanna marry her…” She said in a sing-song voice.

“People don’t always get married now.” Steve tried to shrug it off and Nat snorted.

“Bullshit Rogers! Soon as you can get a ring on it we all know you’re gonna.”

“Who’s we?”

“Everyone.” Natasha added sagely. “You two are like ultimate couple goals. It’s cute.”

Steve took a deep breath, staring ahead as he drove before he took a deep breath. “You know I kinda already asked her.” He looked back at Natasha who turned to him, mouth open. He had no idea why he was telling her this, absolutely no idea, other than the fact it felt nice to talk about something positive. “Well, not properly, but when I asked her to move in she was teasing me about us not being married so I said we could get married if she wanted, and-” “Great proposal.” Nat cut him off with a snigger. “What did she say?” “Told me to ask again with a, and I quote, big, fuck off tiffany diamond.”

“Every girl deserves a bit of sparkle.” Nat mused. “Unlucky for you, you’ve chosen a Billionaire to date.” “She’s not like that.” Steve instantly jumped to his girl’s defence.

“I know.” Nat soothed with a smile. “I know.”

They fell into silence for the rest of the way and, upon arriving at the base, they crept round to the best point of entry, following the heat scanners on Nat’s phone. Steve easily dispatched three guards, Natasha another two before they reached the room they were looking at. Natasha easily hacked the security codes thanks to something on her phone, Steve didn’t ask what, and they met no one on their way out.

Frankly, it went far too smoothly for Steve’s liking but he wasn’t going to complain. He just hoped Katie had got on as well with locating Sitwell.

***** Once Steve and Nat had left, Sam fired up the laptop for Katie and she plugged the end of her StarkPhone into the USB port.

“So you know this guy we’re looking for?” Sam asked, placing a coffee down next to her as she waited for the programme to run its magic.

“Vaguely.” She sighed out, knowing it would be easier if she knew him better. “But I can work with what I have.”

“So using what you have, how do we find him?”

“Simple, I’m going to check his work calendar.” Katie nodded at the laptop

“And you can do that?” Sam asked

“Not on my own.” She grinned

“Good morning again Miss Stark.” JARVIS’ voice rang out from the laptop, causing Sam to slop coffee down his shirt in surprise.

“Hey JAR, I need a favour. Again. And it’s urgent.” “Of course.” “I need you to by-pass the SHIELD firewall and access someone’s calendar without them noticing.”

“Certainly, but permit me to ask,is everything ok Miss Stark?”

“Nope it is not…” she sighed “I’m in trouble J, but I’m hoping this is gonna help…”

“Should I alert Mr Stark? Maybe call him back from Australia?” “Absolutely not.” Katie shook her head. “There’s no time, in fact I forbid it…”

Once she had explained what she needed, JARVIS set to work, informing her he was going to scramble the IP address and set up a ghost server which would, in turn, allow him to access the information without being detected.

It didn’t take long. Fifteen or so minutes later Sitwell’s calendar flashed up and Katie gave a little yell of triumph.

“JARVIS, you are a genius, buddy!”

“Why thank you, Miss Stark. But I only have about sixty seconds before I will need to close down the connection.”

“Understood. Right let’s see where you’re at, you fucker.” Katie mused, as Sam peered over her shoulder.

“Look, briefing over lunch with Senator Stern at Occidental… 13:00 hours…” He read, pointing at the screen.

“Then he has another meeting at 14:30 back at the Triskellion… so Lunch is our window.” Katie looked up at Sam.

“Gives us an hour and a half.”

“Cutting it fine.” Katie mused. “Ok, thanks J, you can disconnect.” “Certainly Miss Stark. Good luck.”

Just as the AI had shut the link down her mobile rang.

“We got it.” Nat’s voice instantly spoke as she put the phone on speaker. “All ok your side?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Katie replied

“Any luck finding Sitwell?” this time it was Steve

“Yeah, he’s having lunch at Occidental with Senator Stern at 1pm.”

“Oh, how nice, they have a Senator involved.” Nat snorted sarcastically.

“And that’s going to be our only window before he’s back at the Triskellion at two-thirty.”

“Doesn’t give us much time…” Steve mused.

“What’s your ETA?” Sam asked.

“About twenty five minutes.”

“Okay, so let’s do the brain storming whilst you’re on the phone.” Katie tapped at Sam’s laptop. “The restaurant they’re going to is in the Business District, so we need somewhere secure that’s close by to take him for a little chat.”

She brought up the Google Map images so Sam could see.

“There.” Sam tapped at the screen, “There’s a multi-storey parking lot a few blocks down. We can take him up high…”

“And kick him off the edge.” Katie nodded.

“Stark, I like your style.” Nat replied, and Katie could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Okay so we got the where, now we need the how.” Steve sighed. “We can’t just pick him up at lunch. If the Senator’s there security will be a nightmare.”

"So we wait until he’s finished.” Sam shrugged

”But how do you get him to get in the car?”

“Simple. We give him a choice.” Katie eyed her gun where it lay on the table. “Do it or die.”

***** It turns out fear of death is a very, very good motivator.

Their plan went off perfectly. Natasha spoofed a phone number which Sam used to call Sitwell once he emerged from the restaurant after lunch. As predicted, Sitwell had been his usual cocky little shit of a self, asking Sam why on Earth he would what he was being instructed to do.

And then Katie had aimed her gun sight at him from her hiding place, the red laser sight clear in the middle of Sitwell’s chest.

“Because that tie looks really expensive, and I’d hate to mess it up.” Sam smirked.

Sitwell, resigned to his face, followed Sam instructions and as he left the little plaza upon which the restaurant was situated, Katie stepped out from her hiding place behind the wall of the bar Sam was sat at and pressed the muzzle of her gun into Sitwell’s lower back.

“One move and this goes straight into your spine. And I’ll make sure it doesn’t kill you, just leaves you with no feeling from the neck down…” She informed him, her voice low. Sitwell instantly tensed. "Miss Stark.” He grumbled out, seemingly more annoyed than scared. “Of course you’re involved with this.”

She took in a breath and glanced around, making sure none of the security team with him had realized what had happened. Sam was a few paces behind them and he gave her a nod to say they were clear before she turned back to Sitwell.

“You made me a wanted fugitive.” She shrugged. “Didn’t have much choice.” She stopped walking. “Now, get in the car.” She ordered, sternly.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Get in the car.” She repeated. Sitwell stared at her, looked down at the gun before he swallowed and decided to do as he was told.

"We good?” Sam asked. Katie let out a breath and swiped a loose hair away from her face.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

They drove two blocks away and pulled up outside the large Starbucks on the main road.

“You know I could have got a coffee at the Restaurant.” Sitwell sighed, sarcastically. But his cocky demeanour soon dropped when both the rear car doors opened and Steve slid in one side, Natasha in the other.

“Good afternoon Agent Sitwell…” Steve turned to him, aviator shades covering his eyes. Sitwell looked at Steve, then to Natasha before his shoulders slumped and he bowed his head.

“Shit.”

******

Sitwell really was an arrogant little bastard, Steve had to give him that. The soldier easily manhandled the Agent onto the top of the Car Park roof, demanding to know what the Algorithm was, backing him up right to the edge where Sitwell had almost laughed, stating that it wasn’t Steve’s style to throw people off the edge.

Well, he had a point.

“You’re right. It’s not.” Steve released Sitwell, smoothing out his suit, letting the man nearly sigh in relief. Katie exchanged a glance with Natasha behind Steve’s back, the corner of her mouth twitched up slightly as Nat looked back. They were both going to enjoy this.

“It’s theirs.” Steve finished, before standing aside as both Katie and Natasha aimed strong kicks to Sitwell’s chest, sending him tumbling over the edge.

“So you’re definitely moving in together, then huh?” Natasha asked, peering over the edge as Steve and Katie did the same, listening to Sitwell’s screams growing fainter.

“Yeah.” Steve smiled, looking down off the side of the room, hands in his pockets. “Although I’m not sure how I’m going to cope surrounded by mess.”

Katie rolled her eyes, as Sitwell’s screams started getting louder again and suddenly Sam flew over with him in his grasp and dropped him back onto the roof, before landing a few feet away. The three of them turned toward Sitwell and he stuck his hands up in surrender, telling them everything.

"Zola’s algorithm is a program, for choosing Insight’s targets!” He rushed out.

“What targets?” Steve demands.

“You! A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa City. Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone who’s a threat to HYDRA! Now, or in the future,” Sitwell continued to rush out failing to catch his breath.

“The future? How could it know?” Steve asked in confusion. At this Sitwell laughed as he stumbled back to his feet, looking at Katie before he glanced at Steve.

“How could it not? The twenty-first century is a digital book. Zola taught HYDRA how to read it,” He said getting confused looks from the Soldier in return, “Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, e‐mails, phone calls, your damn SAT scores! Zola’s algorithm evaluates peoples’ past to predict their future.”

Steve swallowed. He’d heard and seen more unbelievable things.

“And what then?” He asked, already thinking he knew but didn’t want to know the answer. Sitwell shook his head in disbelief as Katie exchanged a glance with Sam who was stood behind Sitwell. He shook his head in disbelief.

“Oh, my god. Pierce is gonna kill me.” He mumbled to himself and he tried to back away from the advancing super-solider but Sam reached out, holding him in place with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“What then?” Steve demanded louder.

Sitwell sighed as he looked at Steve. “Then the Insight Helicarriers scratch people off the list. A few million at a time.”

**** Chapter 16

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfic #captain america #chris evans #chris evans characters

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svgurl410 · 4 years ago

Text

dec 10- hot chocolate- clark/lois

Title: love is (a warm cup of cocoa) Fandom: Smallville Pairing/Characters: Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Jonathan Kent, Martha Kent Rating: G Word Count: 1697 Summary: Clark learned to make hot chocolate from his dad. A/N: previous days HERE

AO3 link

When Clark was six years old, he learned how to make hot chocolate from his dad. His mom had been looking tired for the last day or so, and even he had noticed.

“How about we cheer mommy up?” his dad suggested, after he had sent her off to get some much needed rest.

“Yeah!” Clark said enthusiastically, and accompanied his dad into the kitchen.

“What do you say we make some hot chocolate?” Jonathan said, and Clark’s blue-green eyes grew wide, nodding quickly.

“I like hot chocolate!” he declared. He frowned a little as he watched Jonathan take out ingredients that seemed different from what his mom used, including a chocolate bar. “That’s not how mommy makes it.”

“You like mommy’s hot chocolate?” Jonathan asked.

“Yeah, it’s the best,” Clark confirmed happily.

“Mommy does everything the best, doesn’t she?” Jonathan replied, fondly, letting out a chuckle at Clark’s very serious nod. “Well, we’re going to try something a little different.”

“Okay,” he said, a little reluctantly.

“This is a secret family recipe,” Jonathan explained. “My dad taught me how to make it and now I will teach it to you.”

“Is it hard?’ Clark wanted to know.

“No,” Jonathan replied. “This takes a little longer, so you can save it for special occasions, but let me tell you something, son: when you love someone, it won’t seem like work at all.”

Clark took that all in. “How do we make it? Can I help?”

“You sure can,” Jonathan agreed, as he chopped the chocolate into small pieces. “Do you know where the marshmallows are?”

“I do!” Clark ran off, only slowing down at Jonathan’s reminder, and retrieved it from the cabinet where he remembered his mom putting it the last time. Bringing the bag to him, he saw that Jonathan was distracted, so he opened it and popped one in his mouth. And then another. After that, a third. Definitely good.

“I hope you’re saving some for the cocoa,” Jonathan remarked, and Clark’s eyes widened. How did he know?

Swallowing, he grinned. “Yeah, I did.”

Jonathan looked over and smiled. “All right, now let’s get you up here.” He lifted up Clark and placed him on a free spot on the counter. “Now, this is the trick. First you have to microwave the chocolate, so that we don’t get any lumps. Cocoa powder is fine but nothing beats a good chocolate bar. You have to chop it up and melt it slowly though, so it doesn’t burn-”

From there, Jonathan went on to explain the recipe and how to make it. Clark watched, mostly quietly, though he did throw out a question here and there, which Jonathan was more than happy to answer.

When they were finished, he separated it into three mugs, mixing in a few more ingredients, what Clark would later learn was half and half, vanilla, and for the adults, bourbon. He let Clark add the marshmallows, before topping it off with whip cream, and sprinkles for Clark.

“What did you add in for you and mommy?” Clark asked curiously.

“That, I will tell you when you’re older,” Jonathan said, lifting him up to set him down once more. “I think you’ll like the sprinkles more.”

“I like sprinkles,” Clark said, still wanting answers, but willing to let it go, because he wanted his drink more. “Do we drink it now?”

“It will be hot,” Jonathan responded, setting the cups on a tray. “How about we take these to mommy?”

Clark readily followed him out of the kitchen into the living room, where it turned out Martha now was, sitting on the couch with a magazine.

“I thought you were going to lie down,” Jonathan said, eyebrows furrowing, as they approached her.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Martha explained. “What do you have there?”

“Hot chocolate!” Clark was eager to say. “Daddy made it. I helped!”

��I’m sure you did a great job, sweetie,” Martha said, smiling warmly, as she accepted the cup Jonathan gave her. Clark got his own cup as well, and eagerly took a sip, wrinkling his nose as he got whipped cream on it, causing his parents to laugh.

“What do you think?” Jonathan asked.

“It’s good, daddy,” Clark confirmed, wiping his nose. Different than his mommy’s, but it tasted yummy and Clark did like it.

“It’s very good,” Martha agreed. “Just what I needed.”

“Looks like we did a good job,” Jonathan said, offering his hand for a high five. “We make quite the team, buddy.”

“Yeah!” Clark said, meeting his hand, with his own. “The best team!” Seeing his mommy smile again made his chest feel all warm and happy.

It was a feeling and a memory Clark would always look back on fondly in the years to come, though it happened less and less as he got older. After his dad’s death, it was bittersweet to think about it at all.

Only when he was in his own apartment, one he shared with Lois, and perusing through the old cookbooks trying to figure out dinner, did he find that old scrap of paper, and in his dad’s familiar scrawl, he saw a hot chocolate recipe, and it brought him straight back to his childhood. All he could feel now was happiness as well as gratitude to have had those memories and such a loving family, because he knew that it all could’ve been much different.

Hearing a door slam, he set the book down, and headed towards the sound, immediately greeted by his annoyed looking wife.

“Ugh, what a day,” Lois said, visibly exasperated as she kicked off her heels. “You are lucky you got out of there earlier. If I hear one more ‘no we can’t’ or get a story canned because some asshole has enough money to cover up evidence, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“Please don’t do anything to get arrested,” Clark requested, amusement evident in his tone and expression.

“No promises,” Lois replied. “Will you come help me escape if I do?”

“Always,” Clark told her, as he leaned forward to kiss her quickly. “Why don’t you take it easy?” I will go order some takeout. Chinese?”

“Please,” Lois said, taking a seat. “I need some kung pao chicken in my life stat.”

“I will get some extra dumplings too,” Clark promised, enjoying the way Lois’s face lit up.

“I knew I kept you around for a reason,” Lois proclaimed.

“I do my best,” Clark responded, amused, and went back to the kitchen, reaching for his phone and a menu to Lois’s favorite Chinese restaurant. Once the order was placed, his eyes drifted back toward the book thoughtfully, as he suddenly had an idea.

“Just going to step out for a second, Lois,” he called out. “I think I heard something.” When he heard her acknowledge it, he quickly left, using the excuse to go out the side window, and making sure to return as quickly as possible, bag full of necessary ingredients.

Consulting the recipe and what he had of the memory, he worked to make the hot chocolate. His dad has made it a few times over the years, but Clark had never tried on his own or had made it for anyone else.

It wasn’t very hard after all, but even if it was a slow process, he had definitely found someone who was worth it anyway. Hopefully, she would like it. Adding the bourbon and the toppings, Clark tried to make it look as appealing as possible.

“Something smells good in there, Smallville,” Lois called out, and he hid a smile. Taking the two cups, he made his way to her, handing her one when they were face to face.

“What is that?” Lois asked, accepting the mug.

“Hot chocolate,” he replied.

“Looks great,” Lois said, and once she took a sip, she made a noise of appreciation. “Tastes better. Where did you learn to make this?”

“My dad taught me,” he said, sitting next to her, with his own cup. “He used to make it for my mom when she was feeling down.”

Her expression softened, holding a touch of wistfulness at the mention of his dad. She had always gotten along with his parents, and he knew that Lois probably missed Jonathan as well. Sometimes, he wondered what his dad would’ve thought of the two of them ending up together; more often than that, he wished Jonathan would’ve been there to see it. He would’ve loved to have Lois as a daughter in law.

“And my whining inspired you to make it?” Lois teased, returning him to the present. She “mmm’d” as she continued to drink from her mug, and Clark felt pleased at her obvious enjoyment.

“Something like that,” Clark chuckled.

“What’s your secret?” Lois wanted to know. “I always get lumps with the cocoa powder.”

“No cocoa powder in it,” he replied. “I can show you, if you want.”

“It’s not some secret family recipe?” Lois joked.

“Actually, it is,” Clark admitted. “But you’re family, so I think it’s allowed.”

Her eyes went bright. “Yeah, that is true.” She paused for a moment. “Then again, if I don’t know how to make it, I can have you continue to do it for me.”

“As if I wouldn’t do that already,” Clark countered, grinning as she let out a laugh in agreement.

“And you can also be responsible for passing on the recipe when we have kids,” Lois added, snuggling closer and resting her head on his shoulder once she had finished.

His heart skipped a beat at the ease Lois talked about potential children; it wouldn’t be the first time, but the certainty always made him feel good.

“That I can do,” he agreed, setting aside his own cup once he was done as well. “Do you feel better?”

“Yup,” Lois said, closing her eyes. “You always make me feel better.”

“I’m glad,” Clark commented, pressing a kiss on top of her head.

“Thanks for the hot chocolate,” Lois murmured.

“Any time, Lois,” he replied softly. “Any time.”

To make her happy, it was the least he would do.

And she was always worth it.

#clois #clark x lois #lois x clark #clark kent x lois lane #clark kent #lois lane #smallville #dcu #lois lane x clark kent #lois/clark #clark/lois #smallville fanfiction #smallville fic #smallville fanfic #clois fanfic #clois fanfiction #clois fic #decfanfic

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pro-bee · 5 years ago

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the road less traveled

Note: I cooked this up in the last 24 hours to try to work through some writer’s block on my post-reunion WIP. So this is a bit of a stream of consciousness mess, but if I don’t post this now, I’m gonna chicken out and all my other ideas are going to go PFFT. Also, this is inspired by all the discourse you guys have been floating around lately so it’s your fault.

Rating: G

Spoilers: Nada. Generally season 17. Possibly AU depending on how you look at things. (Also assumes Summer of Secret Sex happened don’t start with me)

Relationships: Implied Tiva. Vague mentions of Bishop/Torres. General team bonding.

Words: 1700

Summary: Sometimes a case hits a little too close to home. Sometimes it makes people want to do something about it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How could they have known that they each had feelings for each other for so long and not done anything about it?! That had to have been torture!”

Bishop has been on a rant since their team got to their table at their favorite watering hole, decompressing after yet another wild case that has prodded at more than a few wounds between them. It was a story of star-crossed lovers, who held back on their feelings for one another for fear of ruining their friendship (and losing their jobs), until one made a tragic mistake and the other paid for it. One of those times where they get no satisfaction out of getting their suspect, because of the chaos left in its wake.

“Don’t ask me. I have been in love with the same man since I was 23 and I still haven’t fully figured it out.”

Ziva’s unexpected candor (and unexpected help in the investigation) catches the younger agent off-guard; she wasn’t counting on things taking such a personal turn. Bishop gives her a sad smile, though the answer clearly isn’t the one she necessarily wants to hear at the moment. Torres shifts nervously in his seat across the table from her, unclear on where this conversation is headed, on edge the way he is whenever he’s around his predecessor.

The admission gives McGee pause, but maybe this isn’t the time to press. “It’s funny, looking at us all now, with families of our own, I can’t imagine having to wait that long to finally be with the person you love. I mean, waiting for years just to act on your attraction…”

“Oh, we definitely acted on it,” she offers in typical Ziva bluntness. “We just failed to follow through on any of it.”

McGee nearly chokes on his drink at the revelation. The wheels start to spin in his head, his eyebrows creased in confusion, as he pieces it together at lightning speed.

“You guys were sleeping together?!”

“I mean, not the whole time,” her hand waves around on its own, as if to punctuate the sentence, “But… some of the times, yes.”

“Like when?!”

“Now look who is butting in! I would expect that from Tony, but you?” She tsks at him, with mock sternness, until she notices the desperation in his eyes as his world seems to have turned upside down. “Okay, fine… Like… Like, when Gibbs retired, for instance.”

(“Gibbs retired?” “When did this happen?” their newer counterparts interject in unison, but their curiosity goes unanswered in the firestorm happening around them.)

“Back then?! That was… Ziva that almost fifteen years ago! You guys have been together for fifteen years?!”

“No! That is my whole point! We were not together together. We were just… what do you say? Letting out air?”

“Blowing off steam?”

“Yes! That!” Her own drink nearly flies off the table.

“Wait, that means— How did you keep it a secret for so long?!”

“I knew!” Palmer offers helpfully.

“I am fairly certain everyone knew, eventually.”

“No way! Gibbs didn’t.”

“Gibbs definitely knew,” she snorts at the memory of being on the receiving end of his beady stare one morning when she and her partner were just a hair more heated in their bickering than usual, even for them.

“And you lived to tell the tale?!” Surely Boss would have banished them to desk duty, or worse yet, Inventory, if he found out they were hot bunking.

“I believe it was a case of don’t ask, don’t tell. Besides, it’s not like it affected our work.”

“True, you two were just as unprofessional as always.”

She flings her discarded crumpled straw wrapper at him.

His mind still reels, though.

“How— how did I not know that my best friends were hooking up behind my back?!”

“McGee!” she lilts, stretching his name out like a song in the way only she does, “You cannot be serious! You wrote a whole book about us! Several, in fact!”

“For the last time, Tommy and Lisa were not about you and Tony! Those books were works of fiction!”

“Oh come on McGee,” pipes in Torres, who had until now tried his best to find any escape from this forced socialization. “Even I knew that! And I’ve never even read your books.”

“Or a book, period,” his partner mutters into her glass.

“How do you even know about—?”

“Bishop,” he shrugs.

“Ellie!”

“What?! It’s not like it’s a secret, Tim.”

“It’s personal! And again, Tommy and Lisa are fictional.”

Bishop and Torres roll their eyes in unison.

“Well, then, you must have psychic powers in addition to your keen observational skills as an agent,” she teases, with only a touch of sarcasm in her voice. She can’t believe they’re really hashing out their scars in the open like this, but it is a brave new world.

McGee finally shakes his head and laughs in disbelief, and even she can’t help the grin stretching across her face. Old friends, indeed.

She takes a breath and grounds herself back to reality, reminded again of the point she was trying to make in the first place. “What I am trying to say is that it is so easy to get caught up in your own fears when it comes to matters of the heart. You get so scared that you are not enough, that you are going to upset whatever it is between you, and that when you inevitably mess it all up, and you will, that you are going to ruin the one good thing you have. So you lie to yourself that you do not have it and that it does not mean anything.”

“Are we talking about you or the petty officer now?”

“Both,” she answers with a hint of a wistful smile. McGee returns with his own expression of sympathy, fully aware of all those twists and turns that have led to where his friends are now.

The group sits in companionable silence for a spell, the weight of the week’s case lifting, only to be replaced with familiar exhaustion.

Ziva feels a buzz coming from her pocket, reminding her that, yes, these matters do come to a close somehow.

- Having fun on a school night?

- Going down memory lane with the team.

- The good ones, I hope?

- They are now. :-) Just about done, heading home soon.

- Can’t wait. Kiddo’s asleep. ;-) Love you.

McGee across the table notices the way her eyes crinkle as she glances at her screen. Once again, he is grateful for these small mercies they’ve been granted. How this story eventually got the happy ending it deserved.

“Well, this has been fun, but it is getting late and I should get home.” She pushes herself off the seat and grabs her coat, untangling her curls from the collar as she twists her arms through the sleeves. “I will see you all soon, I hope.”

“Yeah, I’m beat too,” Torres chimes in, “I’ll walk you out.”

The gang exchange goodnights and talk to you laters, with only the faintest of intrigue from Bishop as her partner, who is not known for his chivalrous nature, follows Ziva out the door.

Standing face to face now, at their full height, Ziva narrows her own eyes at the man, seeing right through him and daring him to come out with it, already.

“Ziva, what you said in there… Is that why you keep pushing me about Bishop?”

She stares at her feet for a second and breaks into a genuine grin now.

“Ah, he finally catches on.”

He breathes in, swallowing his nerves with every gulp of air reaching his lungs. She supposes it’s time to put him out of his misery.

“Look, Agent Torres, if there is anything I have learned throughout all of this, it is that time is the most precious resource we have. I know that it sounds like a cliché, believe me, but it is the truth. When I think about all the time Tony and I wasted over the years… It was not worth it.”

“Yeah, but it seems to have worked out, right?”

“Yes, it has,” she presses her lips together in a regretful smile. “But it very nearly did not. We missed out on so much, I missed out on so much, and it was all because I let fear get the best of me. I liked to tell myself that I was not scared of anything, when really, I was scared of everything.”

Torres absorbs the confession with appropriate gravity.

“Nick, do not let fear rule you. I promise you, whatever happens, taking that chance is worth the risk. I wish I had had the courage much sooner. It might have saved us all a lot of pain.”

He glances through the blinds in the window at the object of this discussion, only for Ellie to catch his eye at that moment. They each avert their gaze on opposite sides of the pane, feeling decidedly like the suspects they’ve just interrogated, without fully understanding why.

“What if I can’t do it?”

“You are a smart man. You will figure it out. You bested me, did you not?” It’s his turn to laugh, and she answers in turn. Maybe she has gotten through to him, after all.

She reaches out to gently pat his elbow. “Take care, Agent Torres.”

With that, she takes her leave and heads down the street towards her car, the heels of her boots clicking down the sidewalk with every step, leaving Nick to reflect on her words of wisdom. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, unsure of how to proceed. With one last look into the bar, he turns in the opposite direction in search of his own vehicle, more confused than ever. Yet somehow he knows that the former agent is right.

What he doesn’t realize as he turns his back is that Bishop takes one last look at him, Ziva’s words ringing in her ears as well. That maybe blazing the road not travelled is not as scary as it may seem.

- Bishop, you’ve got a big mouth. See you tomorrow.

She grins at her phone in spite of herself. Maybe that’s a thought for another day.

#my fanfiction #ziva david #can i tag this as tiva fanfiction?#i mean not really cause they aren't technically there #but i mean everything i write is tiva lmao #i don't even know what this is but i blame all of you #also i don't know anything about torres and bishop #so i just made assumptions #🤷‍♀️

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stlplaybox · 4 years ago

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Top 10 Transformers of 2019 - Part 1

If you’ve been following, it’s been two years since my last one of these. Technically more given that we’re now deep past the winter of 2020. But end of year lists have a wistful character. They keep ajar a casual window into that tricky thing that is memory lane. They crystallise memories, feelings and journeys into something that attempts to qualify and quantify the experiences of some arbitrary tract of time in our lives. When life comes faster at you with each passing season, where each year seems faster than the last, lists offer some solace, some sense of growth, some recognition of where we’ve come from.

I guess that’s why despite 2019 seeming so distant, I’ve persisted with making this list of my top 10 Transformers of 2019. There is something different this year though. Something I’ve been plugging away at for awhile now. This year I bring together my nerdy side with my collecting and underpin it with a Transformers scoring system. Yes, I’ve developed and calibrated a scoring system for Transformers. Why you ask? Well the easy answer is I’m a data person and I like to frame the way I look and understand the world through code and data.

The longer answer is I like to understand myself, understand why I collect and like what I like. With so much available these days, it’s easy to lose track of what really resonates with us, chasing that new shiny thing, that new experience, and quickly forget why we’re buying what we buy. This scoring system is my attempt to track this and quantify not just what I have purchased but also what I purchase going forward. So this year, you’ll see me provide two scores. My “weighted” / subjective score and an ”objective” score in brackets. Both are out of 100.

Where does this difference come from? In designing my system I recognised that how we value things differ from person to person. For instance some people place high emphasis on transformation and handling while others adore articulation and sculpt. So my scoring system attempts to factor this in by providing a “weighted” score to reflect my personal subjective leanings. The objective score is how it ranks objectively on each of the metrics scored. So that’s some context but I won’t bore you with too many more details. If there’s enough interest, I’ll write more about it sometime. But I will say this scoring system is great as I already what my top 10 for 2020 is at this stage!

A part of me was going to separate the list into transforming and non-transforming toys but I decided against it. They’re all Transformers in the end, it’s the reason we buy them. Whether its a plushie, a statue or articulated action figure they all have their merits.

One last note is I’ve also added to each figure a section called “a moment” where I try to capture a moment of where I was, how I felt when experiencing this figure. I spend a lot of time with these figures behind the camera and posing them, often in lovely natural places where I’m reflecting on a lot of things about the world, life and whatnot. There’s a range of feelings that come with that and for me that’s part of what collecting is about, the emotions these figures stir in you.

So without further ado, let’s roll out!

Honorable Mentions:

MP-44: Convoy

Weighted Score: 89.0% (88%)

Why: While its where my love for Transformers comes from, G1 is no longer where my collecting heart lies. The price, the over-engineering, and QC issues… there were a lot of reasons I didn’t want to buy this. But we lost a dear member of our community @TCracker/@hirohitokusanagi last year and this was a figure he was desperately trying to hold on for. That he couldn’t made this something I felt I had to experience. Even more so as I struggled with my own battle with cancer. This figure is a good figure but sometimes we buy things and they mean more because of the people we’ve met along the way. Simon brought so many sparks of joy with his photography and the opportunity to dedicate a shoot to him was the best way I could honour him. Whenever I shoot this figure, I think of Simon and am grateful for the inspiration he provided and his contribution to our community.

The Moment: It was early spring when this figure arrived. We were due in NZ the day after and I was in a horribly weakened state after my sixth round of chemo. But I hobbled the 2km to my post office to pick it up and shoot it that sunset. My process is to normally spend time experiencing a figure before trying to transform and photograph at sunset as its a small window of 20-30 minutes at best. But I knew time was against me and that with a few weeks in NZ it’d really bother me not being able to have a crack at it given how much it meant to me. So in the days preceding that day, I’d watched video after video of the transformation. I started sunset with the video on the big screen TV in case I needed to refer to it. It was one of my most intense shoots of the year and a lot of that pressure self-imposed. But emotionally, it was one of the most fulfilling.

Iron Factory Blue Flash

Weighted Score: 89.5% (86.7%)

Why: The only thing I owned of Bluestreak as a kid was a jigsaw puzzle. In it he was depicted in this sleek and flashy blue. From that moment, I’d always dreamt of owning an awesome blue Bluestreak. And despite happily owning the Masterpiece and Collector Club version, this was the one for me as it combined that essence with a neo-G1 design.

Moment: Sitting by our local waterfall not long after I’d been diagnosed with cancer it was quite emotional. I remember staring blankly at it and not starting the shoot as the water cascaded in the background. Thinking about that puzzle, the life I’d led in primary school and how far I’d come.

With that let’s get into slots 10-6!

10. Amazing Yamaguchi N-14: Optimus Prime

Weighted Score: 90.1% (86.9%)

Why: Expressiveness is an area that’s increasing at the top of my want list for a figure and this has it in spades. Between the different hands, the stellar ab crunch and butterfly shoulder, it maximises its pure action figure focus to give us a figure that’s so much fun to pose with emotion. It’s really one torso swivel away from greatness.

Moment: The moment comes from this year where I combined a shoot with Siege Omega in base mode where it captured all the emotion of leaving your home, being unable to stay because you need to seek refuge elsewhere. Something that I think that’s understated about Transformers is that they’re refugees and that shot really captured the weight of emotion of having to leave.

9. Master Made SDT-06: Overlord

Weighted Score: 90.5% (90%)

Why: For as long as I’ve been doing these lists, there’s not a year I remember when Master Made did not make an entry. They continue to put out some of the most beautifully engineered and fun figures on the market and Overlord was no exception. The sharp edges of the jet half combined with the bulk of the tank are top notch. Add the extra non super-deformed head so that one can use it with Iron Factory legends and combine that with their neo-G1 take on it, this thing hits all the right spots.

The Moment: I remember setting in for sunset in late autumn with the jet mode on an evening after I’d come home after bouncing in and out of hospital as they hadn’t been able to work out what was going on with my body other than it was failing. This sense of soaring as I photographed him was something that put a smile on my face in that moment of uncertainty.

8. TLK Hot Rod (Unique Toys K-03 La Hire)

Weighted Score: 90.7% (98%)

Why: This is the first figure where I want to talk about the difference in the weighted score and the objective score. This figure is objectively one of the best Transformers in my collection at 98/100. It scores so high across articulation, engineering, handling, aesthetic, paint job that it actually is the highest scoring figure in 2019. However it gets brought down because of one thing: connection. I gave up on watching the Bayverse movies as I just weren’t enjoying them anymore and so as great as this figure is, that’s why it ends up scaling down to 90.7. Maybe if it had more elements of G1 Hot Rod I’d have connected with it despite not seeing the movies but that’s not to be. With that, you’re right to guess that one of my strong subjective weightings is “connection“.

Moment: It was a warm morning in September last year when I got this figure. I was sitting on the balcony with my partner and feeling awful as it was not long after a round of chemo but I remember repeatedly going “wow”, “holy crap”, “wow” as I step by step learnt all the nuances of this beautiful figure.

7. Cross Dimension Metallic Optimus Prime (MTCD-01P Striker Manus)

Weighted Score: 90.8% (88%)

Why: The Cross Dimensions line epitomises everything I love and want from Transformers. Fresh designs that take from various parts of the expansive TF universe without being slavish to any particular part. Despite already owning the first iteration of this figure, the dark metallic red, golds and blue elevate what was already a great figure way ahead of its time. Add the extra weapons pack all tinged with orange translucent highlights and you have yourself an absolute winner.

Moment: The joy of having him wield the translucent axe was magical. While the smokestack axes look nice, they don’t pack that same punch. I spent many hours in front of the TV posing him over and over.

6. MMC Senator Ratbat (R-42 Ultio)

Weighted Score: 91.3% (90.7%)

Why: Since Takara did the Senator Ratbat in the TG line all those years back from the United Scourge mould, I’ve loved the idea of a Cybertronian Ratbat and boy did MMC deliver. If you’d ask me whether they could’ve done it from the Stray mould I’d have laughed but its executed so perfectly and keeps a lot of the great engineering and articulation present in the core Stray design while adding the wings that double as a cape in robot mode and pincers in alt mode. It’s a menacingly alt mode and that purple is just fine.

Moment: I’d had the figure for a little while and was itching to shoot it but between treatment and friends who were visiting it took awhile for me to get to it before and when I did I was thwarted by many boring sunsets. It took me almost a whole week where the days would be fine but then offer not that much by the way of an interesting sunsets. But when I got the chance, I loved shooting that alt mode from all of its glorious angles. I remember finishing and feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment. Things were looking up, I was a healthier, a bit stronger, and fortunate enough to have a great friend come visit.

That rounds out the first half of my top 10 list. Join me back in a few days when we work through the top five and I make some other interesting data driven observations about my collection in 2019.

#transformers #transformers idw #transformers masterpiece #third party transformers #hot rod #optimus prime

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kittensjonsa · 4 years ago

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When you watch something (not telling you what it is) and it screams Jonsa and won't let you rest until you let it out.. another sub/Dom jonsa fic with Sansa holding the whip this time.

Summary: Sansa has deep seated issues she needs to work on thanks to a recent trauma from being mugged in an alley. But sometimes, it takes more than just therapy. BDSM-ish.

One-shot, I leave the rest to your imagination because I think.. we all have different versions how this could go.. 💦 and unfortunately, I am not a good enough writer to explore these visions and putting them into words lol.

Safe Word

Dove.

Little bird. Those are the words that spring to mind as Sansa sees the forms before her. It is strange, having to fill out forms and giving strangers a piece of her life before she gives all of herself to another. Well, almost.

He did come highly recommended. Sansa looks out the window from the lounge sofa she finds too comfortable to be filling out forms in.

Also, this is a sex club.

“You will keep my details private, right? I mean, I'm here because.. you know,” Sansa's voice trails off, wondering if she should explain at all. The lady with bright purple hair and blonde streaks looks up from Sansa's forms, only to smile at her, subtly hinting how she has encountered many a red-faced first timers like Sansa. Only thing, this time it's different. I'm different. Not like the rest, Sansa mumbles in a small voice in her mind.

“Miss Stark, I can assure you have our strictest confidence. Besides, your therapist made a call earlier this week to let us know about… your case. Don't worry, she didn't say anything, she just asked for Jon to help you. And that's enough for us to know. And, yes this is only between you and us,” the lady assures, the piercing on her lower lip quivering as she smiles again at Sansa.

Oh right, yes. My case.

Sansa nods and glances at the black tinted glass doors behind the counter. Sansa wonders what awaits her, come the day when it beckons.

“We'll give you a call once we've set up your appointment. You'll hear from us in a few days.”

Sansa heaves a sigh of relief and manages a polite grin. “Right, thank you. I'll.. wait for your call then, Miss Val,” Sansa addresses her after a quick glance at the name plate. Val nods and waves her goodbye and calls for the next one in line. Sansa gathers herself and leaves, regretting what fresh hell she had gotten herself into.

The hours ticked by at first when Sansa found herself in bed and staring at the ceiling. When sleep finally came, the nightmares took over. Sansa had tried everything from herbs, to tinctures and sleeping aids. None helped, because none of these, not even the anti-anxiety medication gave her the peace that was robbed from her, one fateful night in an alley. There were so many things Sansa realised, in retrospect, how the night could have gone differently. If she had taken the train instead of walking to the bus stop, if she went home on time instead of staying back an hour later, if she hadn't answered that goddamned phone call from her ex. But it only wrecked her inside and turned her stomach into knots every time she walks down that particular memory lane. Six months later, Sansa still finds herself in her nightmares, crawling in that alley, bruised, battered and mugged.

Seeing a therapist was the last resort. Describing and reliving the experience again was painful but gradually it eased, no longer was Sansa sobbing at the end of a session, thanks to Dr Carr, her therapist whom had provided an outlet Sansa didn't know she needed. Slowly, the sessions grew less arduous. The nightmares lessened somewhat though haven't ceased completely. Perhaps it was only thing that caused great concern, seeing what little sleep she'd been getting. Six months since a deep, restful sleep, Sansa recalls.

“There's a deep anger that needs to be resolved. Pure rage that I feel needs to be addressed here, Sansa. As someone, I think, who rarely expresses such an emotion, I can imagine this must be quite difficult for you,” Dr Carr suggests, tapping the end of her pen onto her notepad. Sansa sighed as she brushes off some imaginary fluff from her skirt.

“Might I suggest something? You might think this is quite strange but I feel it can be freeing for you. It's.. an acquired taste and you don't have to if you don't want to but perhaps you may want to consider letting all this anger out? On someone.. who is willing?”

Sansa raises her eyebrow at the 'willing' part. “You mean find someone to beat up?”

A wistful tilt of the head tells Sansa only one thing. “I don't recommend this method to anyone but I feel that you, Sansa, will find that it helps. I'll write down the address so you can decide for yourself. Now, before you say anything, I'd like you to approach this with an open mind. As open as you can possibly be.”

“What is it that you suggest, Dr Carr? I'm all ears.”

An address with a name. Jon Snow. Château Noir. Sansa answers back with a questioning glance. Sounds mysterious. Another therapist? Am I that hopeless?

“He's highly recommended. I heard of him from someone in my circle. He does… very particular work. And he has helped one of my former patients it seems, last I heard. So, moving forward.. I think you might want to try him.”

To do what exactly? This is uncharted territory. Sansa's mind wanders off to the darkest bits she was brave enough to muster.

“He's.. a provider of services for a small part of the community, whom I suppose require an outlet for their.. inclinations.”

Sansa's eyes widens at the statement and Dr Carr quickly adds, “Please, bear in mind that I do not in any way think that you have such inclinations but rather, been pushed against your own free will to a corner you no longer have space to move in. And it is affecting you more than you can cope. Am I right to say that? And I think one of the ways we can break out of that space.. is to face it head on, in a safe and controlled environment. I heard he's very professional. Would you at least think about it?”

Seven o'clock. As always, she is on the dot. Sansa fidgets with her jacket, hoping she was properly dressed for .. her meeting. A good sized room filled with contraptions Sansa thought she'd only seen in movies. The kind with mediaeval torture segments. Sansa quickly realises how this was probably a bad idea. But she had paid for it, that and also not wanting to face a disappointed Dr Carr, after the arrangements she had made.

Together, they both had made good progress; this is just a step further, she thinks. Still, torture devices aside, it was a cozy room otherwise for conversation if nothing happens. If she doesn't want anything to happen, that is. Sansa finds some small comfort how the lighted candles seem to brighten up the otherwise dim room, and a soft scent lingers in the air. Sandalwood? Rose? Sansa tries to guess, occupying herself while waiting.

The door creaks. A head of inky black curls and a boyish smile greets her. Sansa gasps. He isn't at all like how she imagined. And good-looking. Dr Carr didn’t mention that.

“You must be Sansa Stark. From Dr Carr's office?”

Sansa nods and gingerly reaches out to meet his hand. She quickly looks away, out of courtesy. Perhaps also out of shyness and embarrassment. Quite the impression, and straight to business.

The harness strapped across his broad sinewy shoulders and chest made her jaw drop. And the crotchless leather trousers. Good thing he has briefs on, as Sansa's eyes dart back to the floor.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Jon Snow. And I'll be your sub tonight. At your service, whatever you need.”

Sansa sucks in a deep breath and blinks at the sight before her. All right no conversations then. Willing party. For fuck's sake, get over yourself and get it over with.

“Umm.. okay. Right.. oh, do you have.. a safe word?” Sansa remembers to ask, putting her bag down and removing her stifling jacket. He smiles again, his eyes shining in the poor light of the room. They gleam with anticipation. Somehow, Sansa had a feeling he had been waiting for her arrival, the moment she stepped into his lair. His castle. Strangely, not an ounce of fear filled her body, but something else entirely. Something hot and heady, as her breathing quickens.

“Well, thank you for asking. I do have one. It's.. crow.”

Sansa watches him slide across the room to a standing handle bar that stood chest high. A pair of shackles sit ominously on the handle, waiting to clamp on the next poor soul.

“Okay. But.. hold on. Don't you want to ask me questions? Sorry this is my first time, I don't know how this works,” Sansa apologizes as Jon stands behind the handle bar.

“Ahh, yes of course. But later, if you'd like. Sometimes, thinking about it, hampers.. the process. I know it is your first time. Don't worry, I'll lead you into it. Just.. tell me what you want to do, how do you feel and why you're here. At least that gets the ball rolling, no?”

“Well.. well-I'm here because I need to let some anger out,” Sansa stammers, suddenly feeling very large, self-conscious and awkward.

“Okay.. and why are you angry? Did someone take something from you?” Jon prods, his voice and tone as soothing as Dr Carr's.

“Yes.. yes. And he hurt me... He beat me. He left me for dead in an alley.. I had to crawl home, no one helped me..”

Jon keeps quiet as he watches Sansa, his heart slightly heavy. Poor girl. All the more she needs this, he thinks.

Sansa stops, the rage Dr Carr was talking about had finally reared its head. Ugly and snarling and all Sansa wanted to do was to smash its head in. Indeed, this is exactly what she needs.

“Well then, Mistress. Shall we begin?”

Sansa looks up from the floor and sees Jon already shackled to the handle bar.

And a loosely coiled whip hanging at one end.

---

Note: Dr Wendy Carr is a character who is a psychologist on Mindhunter and I adore her (and aspire to be like her one day). So much so that she deserves a place in my fics lol. Sorry, she's not an oc 😂 if you're wondering.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fic #crossover insert #i had to write this for some reason #it wrote itself tbh i just typed #modern jonsa au #male sub female domme

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carat10library · 5 years ago

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Memory Lane

Pairing: Hansol x You

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1,227

A/N: A beach, a novel and a song helped me write this oneshot. Maybe it is because of New York being Vernon’s hometown that sparked the interest of referring to some of Jennifer E. Smith’s ideas on her novel The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight. He would fly just to come home, so airports are essential to this. (no pun intended on the airport part) Breathe is my fave Lauv song which happened to be next on my playlist that time. (it just happened!) And Sta. Monica Pier looks so lovely. I would love to go there someday, too.

P.S. I hope you understand me on how adorable Hansol is. Bye. And keep safe and healthy everyone. *winks*

Hansol under the bright sun is eye-catching. Getting close to him is heart-stopping. Someone like this guy seemed unreal. It wasn’t until that day on your flight to New York that reality hit you. You met him on that flight and made him talk to you about arts and music and everything that interest you both. Turned out the conversation was not a lost cause, that he was not only a face to be forgotten and a seatmate on a plane. When the plane touched down to NYC, he looked around JFK to find you. And he missed the chance. But several days later, you met again. It was like that time on the plane. The story never ended even if you had to go back to (your country).

You rode in the same plane before and you’ve been flying to places with him ever since.

“What?” Hansol asked, curious. The midday sun is making him glow.

Venice Beach Boardwalk is alive with people, both locals and tourists. You are in L.A. but the memory of NYC is with you wherever you go. Hansol gave you a knowing look saying “I know what you’re thinking.” Of course, he does. You have sat together in numerous restaurants and cafes and talked about that first meeting. It’s more than a memory that is deeply engraved in your minds.

“Is there something on my face?” he asked again, smiling. How is he this gorgeous?

“There’s always something on your face,” you replied. You run your thumb on his fine eyebrows. Hansol blinked at you. Amusement lights his eyes. “Something I can’t take my eyes off,” you finished.

“Whoa, really?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know. You are like this unattainable, handsome guy and I am running out of positive adverbs ever included in the dictionary to describe you, Hansol Vernon Chwe.”

He took your hand. “Eliminate the word unattainable and all its synonyms, then.” He showed you your locked hands.

You have no words for that. He’s right, though. He probably once was but he is not anymore. You sighed in contentment even though he released his grip on you. The walk from Venice Beach to Sta. Monica Pier feels relaxing. Hansol filled his eyes with the view of the Pacific Ocean while you can’t help looking at every shop you pass by. The shore has arts and music and laughter. But between you, there is comfortable silence knowing just being side by side is satisfying. This is what it feels like to go out with Hansol.

When it became too hot under the afternoon sun, he asked you to get iced mocha with him. The aroma of roasting coffee beans hit you once you stepped inside the coffee shop. He lets you find a seat so he could go straight to the counter. You found yourself humming to the unknown song playing softly at the background. Hansol appeared with two cups of iced mocha and something very dear to him. A slice of chocolate mousse cake is a staple for lounging in a café. That makes him Hansol, you thought.

“For you,” he said, offering you the cake. He sat down beside you on the couch leaning on the wall.

“Come on, Han, it’s chocolate! It’s your most favorite in the world,” you said dramatically. “And you want me to have it? Man, no, I can’t. I don’t want to deprive you of your rights.”

He laughed that low chuckle. “Don’t you want the privilege? How about we share?”

“Gosh, you’re so clingy,” you uttered, laughing softly.

His eyes widened in disbelief, mouth hanging open. It’s the typical look of surprise on him.

“Am I?” he wondered out loud.

Not in the physical sense. “Aren’t you?” You can really tease him all day for it. There are lots of things that he doesn’t notice when it comes to himself. You really like that about him.

“Is it good or not?” His voice turned low. “I mean, am I being too much?”

You smiled, putting your hand on his shoulder. “I’m only teasing you. No, you’re not being too much, whatever you mean by that. You’re too caring and you make it look natural on you. I like how you don’t notice that side of you. I see you, Han.”

And the next song started to play. “I’ve watched those eyes light up with a smile…” Hansol happened to do the same. He smiled.

“I discover myself more when I’m with you,” he stated, taking your hand from his shoulder and holding it.

The song might be ironic with what’s going on between the two of you, but you didn’t care. You held his gaze for long as the lyrics of the song float in your head. You are in a café in Sta. Monica, California with the man you love while a song about the end of a relationship hums softly. When the words “I found New York laying in your arms”, reached your ears, you both smile at the same time. Did he felt it too? That funny feeling like those words was written because of you and him?

“Do you know the song?” he asked, referring to Breathe by American artist Lauv.

“I think I’ve heard it before. It’s sad but it’s beautiful.”

“The lyrics from earlier made me think of your departure back then,” he said with a wistful look on his face. “I was coming home and then I met you. I knew you’d left eventually but I took my chances.”

“You approached me as I was on my way back to the hotel, introduced yourself and reminded me of the flight. Then you straightaway took me to dinner,” you sighed.

The scenes played in your head as if they only happened yesterday. He walked you back to the hotel. You told him you’d be leaving. The invitations from him kept coming and you were dying to know what was going on in his mind. But you wanted to see him so you just said yes. The time for leaving came and he showed up at JFK. He told you how he tried to find you the moment the plane landed. Not only that but also how he felt about you. He hugged you tight and told you he loved you. And that was the beginning.

So after when the iced mochas and chocolate mousse had run out, the skies turned to pale orange. The Ferris wheel from Pacific Park could be seen from the pier where you are sitting. Hansol’s head is on your shoulder without caring much on your height difference. Your eyes are fixed on his thick eyelashes until he looks up at you.

“Can we stay out here until the stars come out?” he pleaded. You can tell he is excited.

“Sure. Stargazing sounds great,” you answered. He beamed and he is perfectly majestic under the now pale pink skies.

“You can lean on me if you want to,” he offered, sounding cool. You smiled.

Since you aren’t that brave enough for excessive PDA, you allowed yourself this sweet, simple gesture. Hansol’s arms are crossed over his knees, so you put your head on his shoulder and close your eyes.

“I see it now. You were right,” he said. “I am clingy.”

“And cute,” you mumbled, joining in his familiar laugh.

#seventeen oneshot #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #hansol fluff #vernon fanfic #vernon fluff #chwe hansol

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sympathyfortheblinderdevil · 5 years ago

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All is Fair: Ch 11

Hi, Y’all! Thank you for being so patient and not giving up on this fic even though I have been egregiously late with updates. At best, my life is erratically populated with periods of leisure time and periods of hectic, soul-crushing work. I, like many of you, am in the midst of a forced period of leisure time, so you will probably see more frequent updates. I appreciate those of you who are willing to stick around to see what happens next, and I hope you are in good health. Tell me what you think! x

Discovery and Dissolution

Polly Gray sat in her Bentley, wrapped in fur. Through her dark glasses, she watched the scene on the street where Lia worked. The bitter north wind cut straight down the sidewalk in front of the library and sent patrons scurrying for shelter within. A cluster of people shuffled through the arched brass doors, and Lia stepped out. She was a vision in a blue cashmere long coat, a mink collar clutched around her neck. The wind caused her coat to flap and play peek-a-boo with leather boots that stretched up to her knees. Both items were gifts from Tommy, Polly surmised. She noticed that Lia still wore an older pair of wool gloves. Guess he couldn’t think of everything.

Despite the cold, Lia wore a little smile as she walked along. She’d been hard at work referencing and cross-referencing research with a professor of Art History at the University of Birmingham, and he was pleased with the help she’d given him. He had mentioned working with her again in the near future. Lia had come a long way from shelving books. She was beginning to realize the kind of life she had only dreamed was possible when she first came to Birmingham. As she neared the corner, though, she was pulled out of her thoughts when she noticed familiar-looking woman in a posh car was watching her.

Polly lowered her window and called out, “Lia, Lia Montrose!”

Lia slowed down and warily approached the car. Polly extended a sumptuously gloved hand, looked over her sunglasses at Lia, and introduced herself, “Polly Gray…Tommy’s Aunt Polly.”

Lia visibly relaxed and took her hand at those words, “Mrs. Gray…I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Get in, it’s time we got acquainted.”

In a matter of minutes, Lia found herself sitting in the kitchen at No. 6 Watery Lane while Polly found two cups and put the kettle on. She then reached into the cupboard where she found a tin of tea. Upon opening it and sniffing the contents, she decided that it would do. Decked head to toe in Parisian tailor-made garments, she looked odd moving around the kitchen with such familiarity.

While they waited for the kettle to boil, she offered Lia a cigarette and lit one of her own. They’d spoken hardly a word since they entered the house. Lia was loathe to break the silence with small talk, so she waited for Polly to say what was on her mind. They sat, smoking and soaking in the dusty quiet of the dimly lit room.

Only when Polly poured the tea did she finally speak. “I brought you here so that you could see where Tommy lived...where we all lived before the money came.”

Lia looked all around the room and smiled, “So this is where Tommy began.”

Polly waved her hand with a flourish and laughed, “Who knows where Tommy began. If I hadn’t witnessed his birth I’d swear that he was flung out of heaven and barred from hell.”

Lia smiled knowingly, “Well, Lucifer was a fallen angel.”

“Exactly.” Polly raised an eyebrow and leaned back in the rickety chair. “I want you to understand why Tommy is,” she searched for the right words and finding none she continued, “the way he is.”

Memories flooded Polly’s mind as she looked all around herself, gesturing here and there with the hand that held her cigarette. “Look around you, Lia. This is where we moved when things got better. You don’t want to know where we lived before when things were worse.”

Lia swallowed hard and held her cup with both hands as if to draw every bit of heat out of it. She was suddenly cold. She had not grown up with much, but she was certainly comfortable. Her home had a lightness about it. The room where she sat with Polly was cozy, homey even, but the air was laced with soot and traces of despair.

“Does that explain why he is so driven?” Lia wondered aloud.

“Partly,” Polly mused. Then she looked at Lia with soft brown eyes, almost like she sympathized with her. She felt sorry for anyone who loved Tommy, even herself. “He has always been different. Clever and driven since the night he was born.” Then she looked away, “But he did have a big heart.”

Did.

It wasn’t Polly’s intention to make Lia uncomfortable or uncertain of her place in Tommy’s life, but Lia couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated. Lia’s chair creaked as she shifted her weight and sat her teacup on the table, and Polly saw in her eyes a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before.

“We all had to make sacrifices to get where we are today, but Tommy has sacrificed the most. Business comes first. Always. Ada says that Tommy likes you, he may even grow to care for you, but there are certain things you will have to accept if you want to be with him...”

“So he has said,” Lia broke in. She immediately regretted cutting Tommy’s aunt off, though Polly showed no sign of being offended. She just sipped her tea and smiled.

“Has he said what he plans on doing with you when he returns to London, Dear?”

Lia winced a bit at the question. “No.”

There was silence between them again. A clock ticked out the seconds from the next room and the sounds of people shouting to each other in the street filtered through the walls. Having finished her tea, Polly lit another cigarette and let the quiet grow around them. She believed that you could learn a lot about a person by how they chose to deal with spaces in conversation, so she waited and watched.

Lia ruminated on Polly’s last question as long as she could, then stood and looked toward the parlor, silently asking permission to go in. Polly rose and accompanied her. Dusty furniture and photographs sat frozen in time as if they were waiting for Polly to run the sweeper or Ada to polish the tabletops. The fireplace sat waiting to be lit. But she couldn’t see Tommy until she looked up the shadowy stairwell. It was narrow, and she could barely see the top stair in the darkness, but something in the woodsy smell that drifted down reminded her of him. Polly caught the wistful expression on Lia’s face and placed her hand on Lia’s back.

“His room was up there,” Polly nodded.

Polly peered into the darkness and flipped a switch, then nodded in the direction of the stairs, inviting Lia to climb them.

***

The sleek grey Bentley rolled along Cannon Lane and splashed slush in its wake. Lia sat in back with a heavy woolen blanket wrapped around her legs. She made small talk with Rodney, the Blinder up front. Already, she knew that he had a fiancé and that they were to be married in June. His mum and dad were from Coventry, and they were both deceased. Also, Tommy had taken him under his wing as a boy of thirteen. Tommy kept him from starving and from, as Rodney put it, “…falling in with the worst sort of criminal element.” It seemed like everywhere she turned there was another person with a story about what Tommy had done to help them.

Rodney delivered her to her door, and eager to get out of the cold, Lia darted inside.

“Jenny, are you here?”

A few snowflakes floated to the floor while she hung up her coat and unbuttoned her mink lined gloves. She noticed that the kettle was on, and so she called out again.

“Jenny!”

Her cousin bounded down the stairs, pulling her arms through the sleeves of a cardigan as she came.

“Jesus, Lia!” she laughed. “Is the bloody house on fire?”

“I have news,” Lia beamed.

Jenny nodded her head and set about fixing tea, “Go on then. Tell me your news.”

“WE have the use of a car.”

Jenny froze and her heart sank. “Come again…”

“A car, Jenny! Tommy doesn’t like the idea of my riding the bus and walking to work, so he is sending a car ‘round for us every morning and afternoon. One of his men will drive us to and from work,” she enthused.

Jenny stood blinking at her for a moment then responded in a monotone voice. “A Blinder, Lia. ‘One of his men’ means a Blinder. I’d rather walk in the rain and snow.”

She turned her back to Lia and got out the plates, careful not to take her simmering mood out on the crockery. She tried her best to keep her distrust of Tommy out of her relationship with her cousin, but it was hard to keep things light when every other word out of Lia’s mouth was “Tommy”.

Jenny had taken quite a bit of flack at work because of Lia’s connection with Tommy Shelby. She’d had her fill with entering rooms full of chatter only to have them go silent, and she had dodged several sideways comments about her recent promotion. She hated to kill the mood, but someone had to be the voice of reason. Rolling up to work chauffeured by a flat cap wearing thug was more than she could tolerate.

Lia balled her fists and tried to modulate her voice as she asked, “Why do you hate him so much? Hmm? He is good to me and he wants to help you too.”

“Help? Is that what he calls it?” Jenny turned back around and eyed Lia’s obviously new and obviously bought by Tommy clothes. “If you want to play house with him and let him dress you up as his little doll that’s your business, but I won’t be ferried around town in a car that was paid for with blood money.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it. Our family weren’t always saints. Granddad was the first one in the queue to spunk away his wages on the horses and the last one out of the pub at night.”

“Right, and it was people like the Shelbys who were more than happy to take his wages off of him while Nan and our dads went shoeless.”

She had a point. Lia hated the fact that she had a point. Damn Jenny for always knowing how to snatch the stars from her eyes. Lia sat down and put her head in her hands to hide her tears. It was so easy to let Tommy do little things for her, to buy a scarf here and some gloves there, to make life easier for her in a thousand little ways. He never made her feel like it was payment for services rendered. How could Jenny take all of Tommy’s kindness and turn it into something dirty, something tainted and wrong? The gifts and the thoughtful things he did for her were not part of a transaction, they were just part of the way he liked to take care of her. She wished that for once Jenny could see the goodness in Tommy.

Since Aunt Polly had shown her the house and the betting shop where Tommy had launched his empire, she had a deeper understanding of him. Since she’d stood in his tiny bedroom where he had wrestled with the echoes of the tunnels and sweated through nightmares of poverty and war, she saw him through different eyes. She had grown to tolerate his last-minute cancellations and welcome him without pouting when he’d kept her waiting half the night.

Polly had opened her eyes to the man behind the façade in a way that he could never do himself. With that understanding, she opened herself up to the possibility of a life with Tommy. No, nothing about what happened between them was mercenary. Tommy just took care of people in his life. She was used to Jenny acting like an older sister and alerting her to pitfalls she had overlooked, but this was too much. The tears of frustration and despair that she had hidden behind her hands were becoming tears of rage. Over and over Jenny had proven that she wouldn’t ever approve of her relationship with Tommy, and Lia was finished with seeking her cousin’s approval.

She wiped her eyes and spoke through gritted teeth, “You know, Tommy has offered to let me stay in one of his properties near the library. Maybe it’s time to take him up on that offer. I’d hate for my reputation as the Shelby whore to rub off on you.”

Jenny put down the knife she’d been using to slice the bread. “Calm down. I didn’t say that…”

“But that is what you meant.” Her words came out clipped and cold. “I don’t want my reputation for sleeping with the Gangster of Parliament to ruin your chances with some nice mid-level clerk, so I’ll just move out.”

“No…don’t! I’m just worried about you. You are like my little sister and I’m afraid you’re riding for a fall. What happens when this is over?”

Lia abruptly stood and lashed out at Jenny, “Over?” Lia growled.

The word struck a chord of fear in Lia that made her dizzy. In an instant, all of her nights with Tommy, the taste of his sweat, the feel of his mouth, the smell of his sheets, flashed through her mind. She turned that fear into rage and took a step toward Jenny as she shouted, “I love him! That’s enough for me! Why can’t it enough for you?”

It was true. She loved him so much that it hurt. Her face was red and blotchy and her chest heaved with every breath. She was tired of fighting Jenny at every turn, and at that moment all she wanted was Tommy’s arms around her. She needed him so badly that she felt like she would fly into a million pieces without him holding her together.

Jenny took a step backward and bumped into the kitchen counter. Lia looked truly deranged. A realization came over Jenny like a wave. Lia was a different person now— a person who turned a blind eye to the ugly side of her man and made excuses for his shortcomings. It had been happening gradually over the last few months; the absent-minded dreamer that she had grown up with had disappeared. Back then, no matter how far out Lia got Jenny was always the voice of reason who could reel her back in, but Lia wasn’t listening to her anymore. This was different.

There seemed to be no turning back. Jenny knew that she had already said too much, but couldn’t resist a parting shot as she headed for the stairs. “Love? How can you love him when the only things you have in common are each other?”

Even as Jenny said it, she wondered if it was true.

***

Tommy and Arthur were sitting opposite each other at Tommy’s desk in their shirtsleeves talking about horses. Arthur had put too many logs on the fire and the room was like an oven. It was past the close of business and they should have been heading home, but they had lately taken to staying for drinks a couple of nights a week. Arthur would tell stories about Billy and the chickens, and Tommy had even opened up a bit about Lia. Arthur was cursing the heat and rolling up his sleeves when they heard someone pounding at the door.

“You expecting company?” Arthur asked in his rough, whiskey soaked Brum.

Tommy ran the tip of his tongue along his teeth and shook his head, “No.”

They stood and Arthur made his way toward the door, his hand on his pistol.

“Who’s there?” he boomed.

A muffled voice called, “Lia Montrose. I need to see Tom…Mr. Shelby.”

Arthur turned in his brother’s direction and feigned seriousness. ”Shall we let her in, Tommy?”

Tommy rolled his eyes and huffed, “Open the fookin’ door; it’s freezing out there.”

Lia entered the building shaking snow from her disheveled hair and stamping the slush from her boots. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her eyes were a bit watery from the wind. She imagined that she looked a fright, but Arthur thought she looked like an angel.

Arthur stood there looking her up and down while she tried not to gawp at the pistol hanging loosely under his arm until Tommy cleared his throat and began to make introductions.

“Lia, this is my brother Arthur. Arthur, Lia Montrose.”

Arthur straightened up and offered to take her coat. As he hung it on the rack, he smiled a bit too broadly and said, “Tommy has told me a lot of nice things about you.”

Tommy knew that something was wrong because he and Lia hadn’t planned on seeing each other until the weekend. After a few pleasantries, Tommy stared at Arthur until he made his excuses and left.

Chills shook her body; she was shaking like a leaf, so Tommy took her by the hand and led her into his office where a fire roared and two glasses of whiskey were already waiting. He sat her down on his desk and took a seat in front of her, all the while rubbing the warmth back into her arms and hands. She looked down into his crystalline eyes and tried to find the words to say what she’d come for. At that moment, she was ever so grateful that Tommy knew how to take his time with her. He would wait until she was ready to talk.

She finished her first glass of whiskey and leaned into him. She breathed deeply and sighed, feeling better already simply for having him there to hold her.

“I don’t know what to do,” she mumbled into his collar.

“About…” he prompted her while stroking her head.

She sat back up and his hands went to her thighs rubbing slow, soothing circles over her skirt. She watched his hands and thought about what Jenny had said. She didn’t know very much about him, other than what they did together. Hell, she only just met his brother. His business dealings were a mystery and she had learned more about him from the papers than from his own words. So what if she became breathless around him? So what if her tummy fluttered every time he entered the room? Surely there was more to love than the helpless infatuation she felt for him.

Tommy lay his head in her lap and wrapped his arms around her hips thinking that maybe she would be able to tell him what was wrong if his eyes weren’t watching her. She ran her fingers through his hair and took a deep breath.

“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

“Is that right?” Tommy whispered.

Lulled by the sensation of her fingernails on his scalp, he could feel the knots in his shoulders loosen. He was trying his best to be attentive to her needs, but his mind drifted to what he’d like to do with her on his desk.

“Jenny and I had an awful row… the worst one we’ve ever had,” she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and went on, “I can’t live with her anymore.”

That got his full attention.

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fiction #Tommy Shelby #peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders fanfiction #all is fair

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spirit-of-the-void · 5 years ago

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Gunpowder and Flower Petals (Dante x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 3

Author’s Notes: I formally apologize for the long hiatus everyone. I was depressed and anxious after having some doubts in my writing, and then got roped into a long commission....I’ll do my best to keep this updated

A huge thanks to @meliapis for making the new cover picture for this story!

Chapter 3

~Calloused Palms and Delicate fingers~

Opening the shop in the morning went on as usual.

You woke up bright and early, getting in a shower and some toast for breakfast before bouncing cheerfully downstairs. Unlike the previous morning, Clover followed each footstep, black tail flicking back and forth as she searched out a nice patch of sunlight to lounge in. Meanwhile, you breezed through each task with ease, pleased to find all the previous day’s seedlings fully grown and ready for trimming. Magic made quick work of those, your mouth babbling forth cheerful praises and kind words to the new bulbs and buds as more were planted in the place of others. A cycle, one that came and went every day without fail. Going smooth enough that there was time to spare, leaving you free to tidy up the front shop and loosely braid your hair. Soft, delicate--peppered with mini carnations and tiny clovers, in honor of your lovely familiar soaking in the morning sun on her belly fur.

You giggled when the cat blinked slowly at you, whiskers glowing with bright light as the shop door was unlocked and sign flipped to “open”. Customers usually wouldn’t come in for another half hour or so, but that was fine. Mondays were generally slow anyway, so you didn’t expect many people to stop by minus the occasional regular or newbie looking for a last minute gift. After ten o’clock, there would be no other orders either, only one being scheduled for a restaurant to pick up some time after nine. Various assortments, mostly lilies. You looked at Clover, realizing this was probably why the cat was more comfortable hanging around the shop that day. Low amounts of people, lots of sun, plenty of time to get attention from their owner. Typical. You shook your head, causing a few stray petals to flutter out onto the floor.

Since the morning was slow, you attempted different tasks to keep yourself busy and distracted from wandering thoughts. Yesterday was flower crowns, today was grinding roots and leaves into salves. They were sold on the side as natural remedies, and they definitely worked for their intended purposes. Balms to soothe pain, powder to sprinkle on a pillow to aid sleep, cream to help with dry skin. It was one of the few things your mother managed to pass along before she died, your mind awash with memories of those times. Her smile, showing you just how to use a mortar and pestle while lightly channeling magic. It was cathartic, a walk down memory lane and a reason to smile.

Thinking of her always made flowers bloom in your hair.

By the time that restaurant came to pick up their order there was quite a few buds in your silken locks. They didn’t comment on it, seeming to be in a bit of a hurry as the boxes of flowers were loaded into their truck quickly and efficiently. Papers signed, payment given, customers on their merry way in a matter of minutes. You both preferred it this way and felt a twinge of disappointment--it was nice to have things done and ready at a fast pace. Satisfying even. But once they were gone you were left in the shop by yourself, minus Clover sleeping soundly in a patch of sun as it warmed the fur on her belly. Mondays were oddly lonely, leaving you to drift around the shop repeating small tasks over and over in an attempt to stave off boredom. Trim the roses, arrange bouquets, praise seedlings, make flower crowns--it left your thoughts free to drift in and out of focus, only snapping back when the occasional customer popped in for some flowers.

It was normal. But wasn’t normal was the new addition to your thoughts--Dante.

How could you stop yourself from thinking about him? You sighed softly, fingers playing with the locket resting on your chest as his face kept making an appearance. Maybe you were just easily swayed by ruggedly handsome men? His white hair, slightly unshaven face and soft eyes...Ah, there it was again. The lonely feeling was worse today because each moment passed with you hoping the mysterious man might return. Maybe you were reading too many romantic books, head spinning webs and stories where none belonged. A handsome stranger comes into your shop, rough around the edges and seeming to carry a deep sadness...what a love story that would make! Problem was that your wistful mind kept hoping so desperately that it was yours.

“I’m losing my mind, Clover,” You mumbled to the cat, who most certainly wasn’t listening, “Maybe Mrs. Davenport was right--I need to get out of the shop sometimes.”

Clover gave no indication that she had heard other than a flick of her ear, eyes still closed and fur shiny in the sun. You sigh, head resting on your hands as you watched that same sunlight make dancing patterns on the walls every time a car passed. These feelings of attraction came with a strange guilt, one you wanted to shake. How rude was it to daydream about someone who simply came in to get their roses? To convince yourself that there was more to the encounter? He did ask me out to coffee, didn’t he? You tried to reason through the doubts with that, but maybe he could have meant it in a friendly manner? Overthinking again, panicking, mind left to wander in the quiet calm of a monday morning. You let out a light groan, a scattered pile of petals falling from your curls with the spike of stress. Too many maybes, there to make you regret not setting up a day more.

What were you going to do?

“Clover,” You practically whined, head now resting on the counter as you stared at the wall in a daze, “If only you could speak...I need someone to tell me what an idiot I’m being.”

The cat didn’t like you berating yourself. This caused the furry creature to blink her eyes open, glaring at you from the floor before she stretched and sprung to her feet. She was on the counter moments later, one paw firmly pressed to your forehead in a sign of disapproval. Message received loud and clear--she didn’t like you calling yourself an idiot.

“Sorry sorry…” You mumble, making a face when she rubbed her fur all over your poor nose. Thank god you weren't allergic.

Regardless, Clover settled down nearby on the counter edge, staring with round eyes while her tail flicked back and forth. You knew she wanted to help, but there wasn’t much a cat could do in a situation like this. To offer even that silent support was more than you had for a long time, already used to not having friends after going through school alone. Children and teenagers strayed away from the strange and unusual, and you had a reputation for yourself early on. That girl is strange, I heard she can grow flowers in her hair--What if she collects animal skulls in her spare time? Does she do blood rituals? Can she curse us if we do something wrong? Witch rumors spread fast, so you kept that to yourself for a long time. No friends, no relationships ...just the flowers, and focusing on the skills your mother left behind.

Maybe that was why the idea of going on a date was so exciting, so...nerve wracking.

You just didn’t want to be alone anymore. The Davenports were lovely, but their new home was an hour drive away. They didn’t want to be close to a city after the Redgrave incident a while back, which you could fully understand. Both stopped by whenever they could manage, and you to them, but...those times between left a lasting effect. It felt so selfish to want more after all the wonderful things you had been given, but...was it so wrong to want companionship? You had gotten lucky, raised by two wonderful human beings who didn’t have to help you, but chose to anyway. They took your mother’s role seriously, buying books on witchcraft and being supportive in any way they could after the incident at school...The Davenports gave so much, and you would never forget that.

You would be fine. You just needed to get past these lonelier days.

So lost in your drifting thoughts, you didn’t notice someone pass by the open store front at all, not even when Clover’s eyes flickered to that area with interest. They stood at the door for a few moments, as if gathering their thoughts before the bell jingled to sound an entrance. Yet you still didn’t notice at all, focused on those patterns on the wall. Thinking about your mother, the Davenports, school and the kids who ridiculed you there. It wasn’t like you to not pay attention, used to greeting each and every customer to make them feel welcome and see if they needed help. But you were oblivious to the tall man entered through the glass door, staring at you in surprise and raising one white eyebrow as he took in you slumped over the counter, looking glum. What a sight that must have been, seeing the cheerful girl from yesterday so troubled and moody.

No, you didn’t notice him at all. Not until he was standing right by the counter, deep voice jolting you right out of daydreaming and bringing the previous days excitement back in a burst.

“You alright, sunshine? Lookin’ a bit cloudy today.”

Oh.

You jolted upright with a gasp, petals scattering all over the counter as you swung around to stare up at the white haired mystery man himself. Sure enough, Dante stood tall and handsome, completely real and solid as he met your gaze with a light grin. Oh goodness, he was dressed differently today--still casually, but a little more clean cut. His stubble had been trimmed neatly, and now he wore a grey button up tucked into black jeans with that red leather jacket slung over his shoulder. The sight of his white hair pulled back in a messy attempt at a ponytail sent your heart into overdrive, orchids blooming and dropping a considerable amount of petals from your hair onto the pile already forming at your feet. You immediately tried to hide them in your hair, flustered and panicking a bit despite how absolutely relieved you felt.

There goes the loneliness, here comes the absolute sheer excitement and nervousness with him being in the shop again.

He called you sunshine. He remembered. He’s here.

Calm down, you’re being ridiculous.

“O...oh…!” You tried to get your voice under control, but failed, cheeks already feeling far too warm as you stood straighter and stammered, “H...Hello again, Dante…!”

The rugged male seemed surprise as well, tilting his head a bit as he cleared his throat. You noticed him nervously run a hand through his hair, almost like he didn’t realize it was in a ponytail--the action pulled a few strands loose.

“Didn’t mean to startle ya, “ He chuckled, the sound both warm and a bit off, like he wasn’t sure how to progress at all, “Shocked you remember me, to be honest. I uh...didn’t make the best first impression.”

Something about his awkward disposition was oddly...cute. Relaxing, even. Dante kind of reminded you of a nervous boy asking a girl to a school dance for the first time. Maybe you were reading too much into it, but he seemed just as nervous as you, but better at hiding it. Trying to keep his cool. Reading people was a hobby you kept up on while working in the shop, so his cues and mannerisms were starting to make more sense. That hand through his hair, the way he kept shifting from one leg to another, clearing his voice...He looked a bit embarrassed, to be completely honest. No better than you, which was comforting and endearing all the same.

His words made you smile softly, some of the anxiety melting away as you replied with firm honesty in your tone, “I disagree...you were very kind and understanding, it made for a lovely first impression. Of course I remember, Dante.”

This seemed to relax him a bit too, his stiff posture losing some of its edge as he let out a hefty sigh, “Maybe, but I do owe you an apology though. I uhhh... I realized later that I hadn’t actually given you a day when we can have coffee or...anything.”

Oh. You blinked, staring at his blue eyes despite him looking away, scratching the side of his neck and looking slightly guilty. Another nervous habit. Cute. He must have realized belatedly, like you, that no date had been set up for this impromptu interaction that had you so nervous.

A smile tilted your lips, followed by a soft, embarrassed giggle as you admitted, “I kind of forgot to ask about a day too...I...I got too excited and didn’t realize till later…”

Admitting that felt strange, almost like you were giving away too much. It was awkward, but in a way that seemed oddly correct.

Dante certainly didn’t mind. Hearing about your excitement made his blue eyes finally meet yours, surprise and relief mingling on his expression like it somehow took a weight off his chest. You didn’t really know what you looked like to him in that moment, but Dante was absolutely enchanted. Flowers blooming in your curls, cheeks pink with honesty and excitement...it shot several arrows through his already nervous heart, sending it into overdrive like a caged bird seeking to be freed. Thank god he decided to come back, that he didn’t chicken out and listened to the others.

“That was all on me, sunshine,” He chuckled, leaning against the counter and plucking a few petals from its surface. You flushed more at his closeness, watching him rub the soft floral between his fingers, “Thinkin’ I got a bit too excited myself. It was pretty rude of me to just...ask and bounce like I did. So how ‘bout I make it up to you and take you out today, if you’re free?”

Today? So soon? It was everything you wanted and more.

You couldn’t help but notice he smelled nice today--he was close enough that a warm scent reached your sensitive nose, bringing traces of what must have been a men’s soap brand or cologne. Both this and his words sent a little thrill down your spine, heartbeat pounding in your chest even as Clover looked on with curious eyes. She seemed to be keeping her distance for now, sizing Dante up even as he looked at her with a hint of interest in his own gaze. Focus, you needed to focus--The man had asked you a question. But the sight of him trying to cover up his nervousness by turning his attention to Clover was only making you more flustered.

We’re both a mess. An absolute mess.

Dante extended a hand to let your familiar sniff, purposely allowing the small cat take her time instead of petting her outright. Clover already knew about Dante after you talking to her about it. But...her reaction to sniffing him really put you off. Clover was usually a very mild mannered cat, she behaved and liked everyone she met. With Dante, however, her little nose scrunched up in obvious distaste, ears flat against her skull and a low growl emanating from her throat. You blinked in surprise, watching Dante immediately retrieve his hand and look ruefully disappointed. Not surprised, like he somehow expected this outcome. He didn’t try to reach out again, making an apologetic face to you as she let out another low growl.

What in the world was that? Your familiar immediately slunk her way around you in a very protective manner, ears still down and eyes not leaving Dante for a second. Why was she so angry? You got nothing but honesty from Dante when he spoke, and there were no bad scents or energies. Mind you, there was something a bit off about his aura, just a twinge of something from him that felt familiar. But...no violence, no bad intentions. Your senses didn’t lie, not when it came to something this important. Perhaps Clover was just feeling a bit territorial or jealous? Having a stranger coming into your life might have been scary, or maybe it was due to how upset you were the previous night due to not knowing if he would come back?

“Clover!” You scolded, picking the cat off the counter and tucking her against your chest, “Don’t be mean, that’s so unlike you…!”

The cat snorted in your face, ears flicking and looking quite perturbed. Her gaze kept flickering over to Dante in a fierce glare, letting out light growls as Dante shifted back a step, getting the message loud and clear.

“Don’t worry about it,” He chuckled, seeming ruefully as he stared at Clover’s fluffed up tail, “Cats don’t like me too much--never knew why.”

That last part of his sentence...it was tinged in a bit of untruth. He knew why cats didn’t like him--but whatever it was, the man was reluctant to tell you why.

Perhaps that should have made you wary, should have made you hesitate. Clover was your familiar, and her judgement was important to you above all other things. But this lie, seeing the almost sad way his eyes drifted away only served to make you very curious, stirring that part of you that sought adventure and wanted to know more. Past attraction, wanting to know what rested at the core of this strange man who seemingly stumbled into your life. You paused, staring at Clover’s scrunched up face imploringly for a moment, gathering your thoughts. If anything, going out to a coffee was the safest you could get--you could pick the place, somewhere public and talk for a bit. If there was any indication of danger, you could leave. Easy as that.

You wanted to know him. Wanted to know what made Clover not like him.

I’m sorry, Clove. I have to try, I have to know.

“I can close the shop down early for the day,” You said decidedly, looking shyly at Dante while he blinked in surprise, “It’s slow on mondays. Do you mind waiting here while I take Clover upstairs and get changed?”

Something akin to eagerness flashed in his eyes, but he tried to keep his tone neutral as he replied, “You sure? I wouldn’t want to barge in on your work day or anything.”

That was the fun part about owning your own business--you got to set hours and make choices. There were no more deliveries and business would be slow at best, completely absent at most.

A soft smile tilted your lips as you stepped out from behind the counter, shaking free a cloud of petals as you turned up the closed sign on the door. All the while Clover growled softly, tail doubled in size with her anger. She wasn’t liking this situation at all, especially not with you ignoring her warnings and still going out with Dante.

“It’s perfectly fine,” You reassured the man and her at the same time, slipping past him to head upstairs, “I’ll be down in five minutes...I know a lovely bakery nearby that serves coffee and tea, we can go there for lunch.”

Somehow this relieved Dante, like he hadn’t actually decided where you both would go. He nodded, running a hand through his silver hair again in a nervous gesture, “Sounds good, sunshine.”

That nickname made your heart beat faster, cheeks flushed as you hurried to the back room and up toward your apartment. Petals drifted in your wake, a few more orchids blooming in your excitement. Lord, you were so out of control at that moment it was ridiculous. This was your first date, the only one you had ever gone on in your whole life. No dating in high school, so busy with the shop afterwards that it never came up. But now...what were you supposed to do on a first date? Could you hold hands? Was that too much? So many questions were buzzing around your skull that you weren’t sure how to process anything.

All the while, Clover meowed naggingly as you entered the apartment, seeming distressed as you set her down on the table. She followed, eyes watching and little mouth working overtime as you changed into something cute--a pink sweater tucked into a high-waisted, black pleated skirt. Would pink thigh highs and boots be too much? You settled for tights instead, and brown laced boots to go with it. There was still that part of your brain worried about Clover’s reaction to Dante, but you wanted to try trusting your instincts for once.

So many years you spent letting fear and worry keep you to yourself, working in the flowershop alone. A lot of that time was spent letting others make your choices for you, content on just doing what was expected of you and safe. But now...you wanted something exciting, wanted to try and listen to instinct for once.

You paused, taking a deep breath and holding your mother’s locket firmly between your fingers. She would never let you get hurt, never lead you astray. There were no bad feelings from Dante, and until there were you would rather take a chance than play everything safe.

“I’ll be okay, Clover,” You promised the cat, finally looking down at her body weaving between your feet before plucking her up into an embrace. She stopped meowing as you did so, looking incredibly worried even as you kissed her snout, “Just trust me, okay? I don’t know why you’re so spooked, but...I want to take a chance. If something is up, I’ll come right home. Promise.”

The cat still hesitated, ears pressed back and eyes wide with worry. But she didn’t meow again as you set her down, grabbing your small purse and keys before heading for the door. Cell phone carefully tucked away, everything in its place. Just in case, you brought a packet of particularly potent seeds, ones that could sprout into vines if you needed to make a quick retreat. You never ever assumed Dante could hurt you, or even want to, but...Mrs. Davenport taught you to be cautious, and you didn’t want to be too trusting.

Clover was sitting by the door as you closed it, like she was ready to wait until you came back. Hopefully she wouldn’t do that, but you gave her a small wave anyway as the wooden surface separated you both from view. Her dislike of the white haired male was definitely disappointing, you wouldn’t deny that. There was still a mystery to uncover, however, and going out on this little date was something you wanted more than anything. It felt so foolish to think this way--like those girls you see in movies who end up ignoring warning signs and going out with serial killers.

But...Dante’s aura was gentle with you. It was sad, filled with trauma he seemed to keep bottled up. The colors were warm and bright, tinged with something you didn’t understand--but you wanted to.

So you gathered your courage... and made your way downstairs.

Dante was still waiting there when you arrived, seemingly trying to fix his messed up ponytail. That leather jacket was now on his body, a stark contrast from the neutral grays and blacks of his outfit. He didn’t notice you return, eyes down in concentration as his long fingers slid back the white hair with a black hair tie in tow. Something about it made your heart beat faster, flustered all over again at the way his grey button up shifted around his chest muscles and waist. Oh dear…maybe you didn’t have the nerves for this? Sent blushing and nervous just at the sight of him doing something so normal, like a flustered school girl.

No backing down now.

You took a deep breath, nervously tucking a curl behind your ear and trying to will each flower to stop blooming in the loose braid you still had. The orchids had a mind of their own and practically blasted your feelings to the whole world, it was so embarrassing. So...honest.

Dante looked up at the sound of your boots clicking on the floor, breath catching as he took in your appearance with unabashed awe before trying to make his expression more collected and neutral. You looked like a fae in his eyes, ethereal and gorgeous in the sun’s dancing patterns. The flowers in your hair, the way your braid curled over your shoulder with the occasional curl escaping to cling around your face….you were a vision, and he was having trouble gathering himself together at the sight. How was he supposed to not act like a stammering, bumbling mess around you now?

He needed to remember what Trish and Lady told him. Open all the doors for her, tell her she’s pretty, but that’s not the most important thing about her. Remember to listen, to talk about her and yourself. Be a gentleman for fucks sake.

“Welcome back, sunshine,” He greeted you, lips quirked in a half smile as he stood straight and stepped away from the counter. There was a hint of nervousness in his eyes, a chuckle escaping his lips as he added, “Just gonna warn you now, I’m gonna be a whole idiot today walking around with you lookin’ that gorgeous. I’m already forgetting how to make complete sentences.”

He was trying to use humor to cover up his awkward compliment, which was charming your socks off while also sending your heart pounding away. I’m such a mess. I’m such a MESS--one complement and I’m practically a puddle at his feet.

You flushed pink, looking down as you stammered, “I...I highly doubt that...but...you look very handsome today. I’ve never been on a date before so...I might be an idiot too.”

Were you supposed to admit that? Maybe not. But Dante didn’t seem to mind.

He let out a sigh of relief, walking toward you and staring ruefully at your flustered face. You felt a twinge of surprise when he held out a hand for your to take, showing you those calloused, scarred fingers you felt the day before.

“Then we have something in common,” He admitted, scratching the back of his head with the other hand, “This is honestly the first time I’ve tried going on a date with anyone...I’m a bit of a disaster, sunshine.”

Somehow, that both surprised you and didn’t. He was so handsome and warm, but...there was tragedy in his life. It was something dark and heavy, weighing the poor man down and you weren’t doubting that, not with what you could sense. But...you were a bit of a disaster too, and you had your own secrets tucked away where no one could see. Dante was an adventure, and something about him drew you in like a moth to a flame. So you took his hand gently with your fingers, enjoying the way he sucked in a surprised breath and a hint of flush made its way across his cheeks. It would seem some of his reactions were very honest, especially when your fingers curled around his and squeezed. Warm...very warm, and oh so gentle with you...he squeezed back.

His expression was so cute.

You smiled softly, tugging him towards the door as you replied, “That’s fine with me...I’m a bit of a disaster too, so try not to worry too much. We can learn together, slowly if you’d like.”

This was only the first date--both of you had all the time in the world to decide how this would go. Maybe after learning about him, or seeing how he acted in public would make you change your mind. Maybe you weren’t compatible--but learning that would be part of the fun. And there would be no better way of doing it than having a nice lunch at Alex’s bakery, with people you knew and faces around who had your back. But Dante didn’t seem to be a bad person, nor did he seem to have bad intentions. There was only a quiet, nervous eagerness from him as he opened the flowershop door for you, still holding your hand as you locked it tight for the day.

The waiting mid-day sun was warm on your face, like a soothing caress as you turned to smile at Dante. Your cheeks immediately flushed, however, at how handsome he looked with the light glinting off his white hair. Lord, he was a beautiful man, and the world seemed determined to show you. The thought made you suck in a breath, trying to gather any courage you could muster while tugged his hand to signal movement. He fell in step easily, tucking you hand around his arm like a gentleman would.

Do not get too attached yet. It’s only one day.

“I think you’ll like Alex’s bakery,” You hummed, the wind rustling your curls as you walked the familiar path, “His sweets are great if you like that--and they have a wonderful dark roast and many different exotic teas.”

“Sweets are good,” Dante nodded in approval, eyes lighting up at the prospect, “To be honest I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee, sunshine.”

A sweet tooth then? That was pretty surprising for a man like him, not that you would say that.

Instead you smiled, staring forward as you responded softly, “What’s your favorite sweet, Dante?”

You expected him to think about it, or maybe rattle off something like chocolate or some cream filled pastry. But instead he grinned, his answer quick and smooth as he turned to meet your gaze.

“My favorite? Strawberries.”

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#devil may cry #devil may cry five #devil may cry 5 #dmc5 #dante devil may cry #dante x reader #flowershop fic #flowershop OC

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what-is-your-plan-today · 5 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner Ch 15: That Tie Looks Real Expensive

Summary: On the run from SHIELD, Katie and Steve encounter Natasha at the hospital when they head back for the memory drive. Their search for the truth leads Steve on yet another trip down memory lane, and as more truths bubble to the surface, the three of them are left reeling and are forced to seek help...

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: None for this chapter bar them saying some bad language words and someone gets pushed off a roof but he’s Hydra so, meh

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist

Open for Tags- Ping me an Ask!

After a bit of a skirmish on the bridge out of the Triskellion with a Quinjet, they headed to the small boxing gym they trained at so Steve could change, leaving his suit behind in the hope that the tracking systems would give whoever came looking for them a bit of a detour. He also locked his shield in his locker, with the view they’d collect it when it was safe to do so, in an attempt to keep them as unnoticeable as possible.

Surprisingly they reached the hospital, both relatively unscathed. Katie was feeling bruised but she kept pace with Steve as they strode down the corridor. When they reached the vending machine, Steve stopped and peered into it, frowning as he realised the row where he had hidden the stick was empty. Then someone appeared behind them, and he saw Natasha’s reflection in the machine, blowing bubbles from the gum she’d obviously bought to retrieve the stick.

Steve spun round, temper reaching boiling point as he grabbed her by the neck in a display of anger Katie had rarely seen from him, pushing her into a room opposite.

“What happened to you?” she looked at Katie’s face, which was already bruising from the blow she had taken before.

"Where is it?" Steve demanded, looking at Nat as he threw down his hood.

"Safe."

"Do better." Katie suggested, glaring at the woman she thought was her friend, not sure anymore whether or not to trust the red-head.

"Where did you get it?" Natasha asked.

"Why would I tell you?" Steve countered.

"Fury gave it to you," she narrowed her eyes at him. "Why?"

"What's on it?" Steve ask, ignoring her question.

"I don't know," Natasha answered.

Steve lightly slammed her against the wall his patience thinning quickly, anger blazing from every inch of his body. "Stop lying," he said through gritted teeth.

"I only act like I know everything, Rogers."

"I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn't you?" Katie said, looking at her.

"Well, it makes sense. The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in..."

Katie let out a frustrated laugh before she spun around, away from Natasha groaning.

"I'm not gonna ask you again," Steve threatened.

"I know who killed Fury." she said as Katie turned to face her again. "Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones who do call him the Winter Soldier. He's credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years."

"So he's a ghost story." Steve concluded releasing her and taking a step back.

"Five years ago, I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran and somebody shot out my tires near Odessa.” She said, looking him straight in the eyes “We lost control, went straight over a cliff. I pulled us out, but the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer, so he shot him, straight through me."

Natasha pulled up her shirt, revealing a scar on her lower left abdomen.

"Soviet slug, no rifling. Bye bye, bikinis."

"Yeah, I bet you look terrible in them now," Steve half joked.

"Going after him is a dead end. I know, I've tried." She stated before she pulled out the thumb drive and held it out for all of them to see.

Steve eyed her before taking it and putting it in his pocket before he looked at Katie then back to Natasha.

"Let's find out what the ghost wants."

*****

“You know you could have picked something a little more subtle.” Nat said as she lounged in the backseat of the truck that they had taken from an industrial estate opposite the gym when they had stopped to pick up Steve’s shield and ditch Nat’s Corvette heading to New Jersey.

They had gotten what they needed from the Mall, including the location of where the AI that kept countering Natasha's commands on the pen drive was coming from, which to Steve’s shock had been Camp Lehigh, the place he had trained and been selected for Operation Rebirth. After a close shave with the STRIKE team they had bolted for Natasha's car and made it out, unscathed and thankfully with a few new changes of clothes each.

“It’s a truck, lots of men drive trucks” Steve replied, as he comfortably drove with one hand on the wheel, the other on the gearshift, eyes focussed on the road.

“Because they think it looks cool when in fact it just makes them look like douchebags who are compensating for something” Nat responded.

Despite himself he couldn’t help but quip back playfully “Maybe I am.” “Well I know that’s not true” Nat said, her voice full of a smirk “Katie told me.”

Steve felt his cheeks flush as Katie shifted in the seat besides him, whipping her head round to face the woman. “Jesus Nat…”

“What were your exact words?” she teased “If that thing wasn’t enhanced by the-” “If you don’t shut up I’m gonna come back there and slap you into next week.” Katie said cutting her off. She turned back round, glancing at Steve. His cheeks were flushed red with embarrassment but there was a faint trace of a smirk on his face, his eyes still focussed ahead. He could tell she was looking at him so he kept his eyes on the road, fully aware he blushing. But as far as discussing their sex life with her friend he supposed that there were worst things she could be saying…

"So where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?" Natasha spoke again a few minutes later as Katie noticed that they were passing a sign welcoming them to New Jersey. All things considered they’d made pretty good time.

“Nazi Germany” Steve said, looking over his shoulder at her “and we’re borrowing, take your feet off the seat."

Natasha eyed him in the mirror, but did as she was told before she leant forward between the two front seats.

"Alright, I have a question for you both, which you do not have to answer. But I feel if you don't answer it though, you're kind of answering it, you know?"

"What?" Steve said exasperatedly.

"So before in the store… you guys were like engaged…” she began a hint of a smirk on her face. “Any chance of that happening for real?”

Katie moaned, the red head had no idea how close to the bone she was. Upon hearing the moan, Steve felt something in his stomach stir.

"That bad an idea huh?" he asked stealing a glance over at her.

"I didn't say that." Katie sighed.

“No but it kinda sounded like that’s what you meant.” Steve continued.

“I not even gracing that with a response” she shot him a look.

“I’m still waiting on you telling me whether you’re gonna move in with me or not.” he said, his tone teasing.

“You asked her?” Nat raised her eyebrows. “Will you fuck off?” Katie snapped. She’d had enough and well and truly reached her fill of Natasha’s sarcasm, SHIELD, everything.

“Take it easy Stark.” Nat drawled back, nonplussed. “You know, if you don’t want to answer a question straight you could try making something up…”

“What, like you?” Katie scoffed, looking at her over her shoulder

“You know the truth is a matter of circumstances, it's not all things to all people all the time. And neither am I."

"That's a hard way to live," Steve commented as he took in the red-heads words. Besides him Katie shifted, agitatedly and he knew she was pissed. Natasha was supposed to be her friend and all this had shaken her trust.

"It's a good way not to die, though," Natasha mused unconcerned.

"You know, it's kind of hard to trust someone when you don't know who that someone really is." Katie shot the red head a pointed look and Steve held his breath for the sarcastic response he was expecting back. He really didn't want to have to split up a fight between the two. But knowing his girl as he did, he had a horrible feeling it would go that way if Natasha bit back. Thankfully, she didn't, her tone was soft, almost wistful when she answered

"Yeah." Natasha replied, looking through the window. "Who do you want me to be?"

"How about a friend?" Steve jumped in.

"Well, there's a chance you might be in the wrong business, Rogers." Natasha smirked returning to her comfortable position in the backseat.

They sat in silence for a bit and Katie turned to look at Steve. If there was one person in all this she could trust, she knew it was him. She had no idea what they were going to find, what they were going to walk into but she trusted him with her life, and loved him with every bone in her body. And she wanted him to know, just in case this all went wrong, just how much.

Steve shifted in his seat as he could feel her eyes on him for a while before she spoke finally.

“I’m not gonna move in with you.” she said, shaking her head, and his head whipped round, mouth dry at her refusal, before he returned his attention to the road, trying not to read too much into her rejection, as she continued to speak. “Your flat is full of bullet holes, your bed is in the wrong place and frankly it’s too small for all my stuff. You’ll have to move in with me.”

Wait, what? That wasn’t a refusal. She’d just said yes. She wanted to live together.

He looked at her, aware a grin was spreading across his face. “Seriously?”

“Gross…” came a voice from the back seat.

*****

"It's some kind of recording," Natasha said frowning as she tried to make sense of what was happening in front of them. They’d scoured the camp, Steve having identified that the munitions building was in the wrong place, and that had led them into a huge, underground bunker. After an hour or so more of searching they had discovered a secret Elevator that led down to a huge room full of ancient computers…and a more modern USB terminal. They had plugged in the USB device which had activated the system and now…well, now Katie had no idea what the fuck they were looking at.

"I am not a recording, Fraulein. I may not be the man I was when the Captain took me prisoner in 1945..."

Steve sighed heavily as the computer screen showed a black and white photo of a familiar odd looking man with round glasses. Zola.

"Who is that?" Katie asked as Steve glared at the photo on the computer screen.

"Do you know this thing?" Natasha questioned sceptically.

"Armin Zola was a German scientist who worked for the Red Skull. He's been dead for years," Steve explained shortly as he walked round the back of the screen, looking for anything that would explain how it was working.

"First correction, I am Swiss. Second, look around you. I have never been more alive. In 1972, I received a terminal diagnosis. Science could not save my body. My mind, however, that was worth saving. Two hundred thousand feet of data banks. You are standing in my brain," Zola explained.

"How did you get here?" Steve questioned, returning to the front of the television monitor.

"I was invited."

“Operation Paperclip," Natasha supplied as her and Katie exchanged a look.

“What is it?” Steve asked.

“After the War Shield recruited German scientists with strategic value." Katie said.

"They thought I could help their cause. I also helped my own." Zola continued.

"Hydra died with the Red Skull," Steve snapped.

"Cut off one head, two more shall take its place." Zola said confidently

"Prove it," Steve challenged and Katie had to stifle a sigh as she was pretty sure they were going to regret that.

"Accessing archive."

The computer screen began to screen old footage of the Red Skull and of the original shield founders.

"Hydra was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What we did not realize, was that if you try to take that freedom, they resist. The war taught us much. Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. After the war, SHIELD was founded and I was recruited. The new HYDRA grew. A beautiful parasite inside SHIELD. For seventy years, HYDRA has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war. And when history did not cooperate, history was changed."

"That's impossible, SHIELD would have stopped you," Natasha said quickly countering the computer.

"Accidents will happen." The computer screen then revealed a very familiar item, the newspaper reporting Howard and Maria Stark’s deaths. Steve felt his mouth go dry as he realised what Zola was telling him, whilst besides him, Katie took a deep breath as she looked at the screen, her Parent’s faces looking back at her in black and white print. And then the ringing started in her ears.

Her parents had been killed? By the Winter Soldier? By HYDRA? When she spoke again, her voice was desperate as she was, desperate for this to be nonsense. “No, that’s not… they died in an accident… it was a car crash…”

“Things are not what they seem...” the screen drawled back

“You killed them?” she said, the anger now evident in her voice as it coursed through her veins, her voice loud as she balled her fists “HYDRA killed my parents? Why?”

A photo of Director Fury flashed up.

"HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security." Pictures of three helicarriers were shown next, and Steve feel the angry heat spread up his neck, blistering and raw. "Once the purification process is complete, HYDRA's new world order will arise. We won, Captain. Your death amounts to the same as your Life; a zero sum."

Steve's anger boiled over, and it appeared Katie's had as well as the pair of them surged forward. Katie lashed out with her right foot kicking over a chair in anger and Steve brought his right hand crashing into the TV, smashing the screen. It only resulted in silencing the Swiss man for a moment, before he spoke cockily once again from a different monitor

"As I was saying…”

"What's on this drive?" Natasha asked quickly stepping in front of both Katie and Steve to avoid the pair of them destroying anything else.

"Project Insight requires insight. So I wrote an algorithm."

"What kind of algorithm? What does it do?" Katie demanded.

"The answer to your question is fascinating. Unfortunately, you shall be too dead to hear it."

Suddenly, the doors they came through started to close. Steve threw his shield attempting to catch them before they shut completely but it missed and he caught it as it ricocheted back.

"Guys, we got a bogey, short-range ballistics. Thirty seconds tops." Natasha announced looking at her phone, her voice earnest.

"Who fired it?" asked Steve, as he starting to look for an escape route.

"SHIELD." She looked at him, then to Katie.

"Admit it Captain, it's better this way. We're both of us, out of time," warned Zola.

Katie looked around for any sign of a way out, knowing it was pointless. She spotted a grate in the floor not too far from where we were and yelled at Steve. He easily threw the top off as Natasha pulled the drive out of the port that was on the desk.

"Get in!" Steve yelled. Natasha hopped in, then Katie jumped down as well, the two girls getting as close to one another as they could to make room for Steve in the small space. He jumped down and pulled them both in close before holding his shield over their heads.

The missile hit just as he did so. Instantly heat, smoke and pressure surrounded the three of them. Steve could feel the ash and heat in his throat and he had to fight with all his strength to keep his shield above them, as the debris from the collapsing building above us rained down. Letting out a groan he braced himself and simply stayed as strong as he could, and eventually the noise subsided. He could hear Katie’s heavy breathing as she struggled to maintain her calm, coughing slightly a she spoke.

“Nat…”

No answer.

Steve grunted again as he pushed against his shield trying to clear away the debris on top of it just enough to get out. He let out a sigh of relief as he gave a strong push and light flooded down into the chamber. With another almighty cry and a heave, he managed to clear a path for him to climb out. He scrambled up, checked around to make sure it was safe and the he glanced down at the two women.

"Hey," he called “You ok?”

“I think so… Nat’s passed out.” Katie said, awkwardly shifting Natasha around carefully in order so Steve could lift her out. Carefully he set her down and then wrapped his hand around his girl’s wrist and pulled her out of the hole. Immediately she crouched next to Nat.

“Her pulse is strong…I think she just fainted…she doesn't do well in tight spaces, like me...” Katie said, coughing harshly before she paused at the sound of a familiar hum growing steadily closer. Quinjets.

"Let's go." Steve ordered quietly, scooping Natasha up in his arms. Ensuring Katie was in front of him at all times, they quickly began navigating their way out of the rubble. "Get back to the truck."

Katie climbed into the backseat and Steve laid Natasha down along the seat so that her head rested in Katie’s lap before he jumped into the driver's seat, starting the car and taking off down the dirt road.

Neither of them spoke for a good 5 minutes. Katie was still trying to make sense of what Zola had said. HYDRA had killed her parents, for no other reason that she could think of bar the fact her dad had worked tirelessly against everything they stood for, as part of SHIELD. Her eyes misted over and she tried to blink back the tears, keeping her breathing even. She knew if she started crying, after everything that had happened, she wouldn’t stop.

“What…” Natasha’s voice was croaky and Steve glanced back again to see the red head’s eyes fluttering as she looked around.

“You passed out” Katie said, looking down at her “we’re alright now, we got out ok.”

She sat upright and blinked again, “Thanks…”

Steve turned back to the windscreen as the car fell into silence.

“So…where to now?” Nat asked the question. No one answered which caused her to suggest “Tony?”

“No” Steve and Katie both said at the same time.

“For one thing he isn’t in the country.” Katie said, “He’s in Aus working on some deal.”

“And they’ll be watching the Tower.” Steve continued, “It’s not safe”

“We need to get hold of Hill.” Katie said, “She’s the only one in any of this I trust now.”

Steve pondered, and then had to concede she was right. “Alright, but we need to lay low whilst we do…any ideas?”

“Yeah.” Katie said, and it was a crazy one, but one that no one would even suspect, as no one in SHIELD knew the man existed. Not yet anyway. “Nat, any chance you can look up an address?”

“Sure…” she said, pulling her phone of out her pocket.

Steve shot her a questioning glance in the mirror, which turned into one of realisation as she spoke.

“Sam Wilson.”

“Honey we hardly know the guy.” Steve said, voicing his concern

“Well trusting people we do know hasn’t exactly worked for us so far, has it?” she snapped back, a little tetchily. Steve opened his mouth to argue back but Natasha cut him off.

“Nova’s right. Sometimes the person you have to trust is a stranger.” *********

Sam let them in without so much as a question, the fact that the three of them were battered, bruised and filthy declaring everyone they knew was trying to kill them told them all he needed to know. He offered up his guestroom and Steve being the gentleman that he was let both Natasha and Katie go before him, giving Sam a brief overview of what had happened.

Katie and Natasha both showered quickly, and now they were currently sat quietly in the guestroom while Steve used the en-suite. He washed his face and looked in the mirror, letting out a sigh as he glanced back at his reflection, various bruises already covered his arms and upper body thanks to his accelerated healing but that wasn’t what bothered him. He was completely and utterly at a loss as to what to do next. Well, whatever it was, he wasn’t going to find the answer in here. Turning, he opened the door and saw Katie sitting behind Nat on the bed, drying the back of the woman’s red hair. He locked eyes with her, gave her a small smile and then looked at Natasha who was staring into space.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she replied quickly, too quickly.

"When I first joined SHIELD, I thought I was going straight. But I guess I just traded in the KGB for Hydra," Natasha confessed, looking down at her hands. "I thought I knew whose lies I was telling, but I guess I can't tell the difference anymore."

"There's a chance you might be in the wrong business." Katie teased earning a small smile from the redhead.

"I owe you." Natasha said quietly, "Both of you." She added looking at Katie

"It's okay," Steve said.

"If it was the other way around, and it was down to me to save your lives – and be honest with me – would you trust me to do it?" asked Natasha quietly, her green eyes locked onto Steve’s.

"I would now," said Steve. "And I'm always honest."

"Without question." Katie said as well as Nat turned to her, a smile growing on her lips.

"Well," she said as she looked back at Steve. "You seem pretty chipper for someone who just found out they died for nothing."

"Well, guess I just like to know who I'm fighting," Steve said in response, although she had hit a nerve.

"I made breakfast," Sam's voice came and the three looked to see him leaning up against the doorframe. "If you guys, eat that sort of thing." He added as he left.

Steve inclined his head slightly, smiling as Natasha stood up and left the room, shouting after Sam to see if he had a hair dryer, earning her a sarcastic response about him not having had an afro since the late 80s. Katie made to follow her but Steve caught her arm gently as he too rose from his chair.

“Baby…” he started, wanting to talk to her about the discovery but she cut him off, shaking her head. She didn’t want to talk about it. It was too painful and the fear of what Tony would say…

“You know, after mom and dad died, Tony lost it.” she said gently, voicing her fears. “When he finds out they were murdered it could push him over the edge again.”

“Don’t tell him then” Steve found himself suggesting. He didn’t approve of lying, but sometimes if knowing the truth was detrimental then…

“And then if he does find out, and then realises I knew and didn’t tell him?” Katie sighed “I don’t know what’s worse…”

She looked utterly lost and broken and he felt a lump catch in his throat as he pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head. He was desperately trying to think of something that would raise her mood, and then he found himself for some strange reason thinking back to the banter the 3 had shared in the truck. He looked down at his girl.

“Did you really tell Natasha I had a big…” She gave a small chuckle, the sound music to his ears. “No I said you were a big dick…she must have misheard me”

He rolled his eyes and a sarcastic “ha ha” fell from his mouth as she smiled, sliding her hands up his chest.

“What I actually said was that if that thing…”she glanced down at his crotch before looking back up “Wasn’t supersized at the same time you were, I have no idea how you managed to stand upright before the serum.”

Jesus she was incorrigible at times. But he loved her for that. And he was also secretly pleased she thought he was packing, so to speak. He smirked as his hands slid to her hips “you’re a nightmare…” he looked at her.

“Yeah but you love me.” she grinned.

“Yeah, yeah I do…” he said, his lips meeting hers in a soft kiss before the pair of them sighed, the moment of humour and good nature slipping away as they both remembered exactly where they were and why they were there.

“Come on…” Steve said, taking her hand and together they headed down the hall into the kitchen area, the smell of food hitting his nostrils made his stomach grumble.

"You all look a hell of a lot better." Sam commented as Katie grabbed a few things for her plate- a couple of pancakes, fruit and toast. Steve smiled a bit at the quasi-compliment before he sighed, biting into a piece of toast.

"Well, it's been an eventful twenty-four hours." he responded as he slipped into a chair.

“I aint got anywhere to be.” Sam shrugged as he looked a Steve “I know you gave me the overview but how about you give me the details?”

"So, the question is, who in SHIELD could launch a domestic missile strike?" Natasha asked from where she was stood, leaning comfortably back against Sam's countertops.

"Alexander Pierce," Katie confidently answered, finishing her coffee.

Steve looked at her, smiling softly. She was at it again, that analytical brain was going 10 to the dozen. It was amazing how different and better everything seemed once you’d eaten and how much of the situation now was starting to slot into place.

"Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world," Natasha said as she walked towards the table, standing behind Katie, almost snorting at the irony of the situation.

"He's not working alone, Zola's algorithm was on the Lemurian Star." Steve continued.

"And you told me that Jasper Sitwell was too." Katie said, and there it was, another piece of the puzzle.

"So, the real question is…” Steve looked at her and Nat “How do the three most wanted people in Washington kidnap a SHIELD officer in broad daylight?"

"The answer is, you don't," Sam dropped a file on to the table to the right of Katie.

"What's this?" Steve asked, standing up as Natasha picked up the file.

"Call it a resume."

Katie stood up as well so the three of them could look at the file.

"Is this Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you," Natasha then turned to Steve. "You didn't say he was a para rescue."

"Riley?" Katie asked nodding to the photo of Sam and another man.

"Yeah," Sam answered.

"I heard they couldn't bring in the choppers because of the RPGs," Natasha recalled. "What did you use, a stealth chute?"

"No. These."

Sam handed Steve another file and he looked down at what could only describe as a pair of mechanical wings. He shared an impressed look with Katie before he glanced at Sam.

"I thought you said you're a pilot?" Steve asked Sam.

"I never said a pilot," Sam countered with a smirk.

"I can't ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason."

"Dude, Captain America needs my help. There's no better reason to get back in." Sam almost scoffed.

"Where can we get our hands on one of these things?" Katie said, looking up.

"The last one is at Fort Meade, behind three guarded gates and a twelve inch steel wall," Sam supplied.

Steve looked to Natasha who nodded with a shrug. "Shouldn't be a problem." he said, looking at Sam with a smirk before he turned to Katie. “Reckon you can track down Sitwell?”

“Sam, you got a Laptop?” She looked to the man who nodded.

“Then yeah, I can track him down…”she said, dropping her StarkPhone onto the table.

********

The plan was as solid as they could make it. Steve and Nat were taking Sam’s car to Fort Meade to break out his kit whilst Sam and Katie stayed behind, in an attempt to track down Sitwell. It wasn’t ideal splitting up, but it was the best option they had. All 4 of them travelling would have attracted attention, plus this way if 2 of them did get caught, the other 2 still had a chance of getting the job done.

Steve drove the truck down the freeway, Nat lounging in the front seat as she looked at the plans of the base that they had courtesy of some expert searching on Google Maps.

“If we go in from the East Side we should have the element of surprise.” she said.

“Right, we get in, we get out, minimum casualties, minimum fuss” Steve nodded.

Natasha hummed her agreement as Steve stopped at a red light.

“So, you actually asked Stark to move in?” Nat grinned.

“Yeah.” “I’m impressed.” she drawled “Your 40s programming has been well and truly broken.” He rolled his eyes “Well I figured I want to spend the rest of my life with her so…” He realised what he’d said instantly and let out a groan as Natasha grinned “You wanna marry her…” she said in a sing-song voice.

“People don’t always get married now…” he said, trying to shrug it off and she snorted.

“Bullshit Rogers!” she laughed “Soon as you can get a ring on it we know you’re gonna.” “You know I kinda already asked her.” he said, looking at the red head who turned to him, mouth open. He had no idea why he was telling her this, absolutely no idea, other than the fact it felt nice to talk about something positive. “Well, not properly but when I asked her to move in she was teasing me about us not being married so I said we could get married if she wanted…” “Great proposal.” Nat sniggered, rolling her eyes “And what did she say?” “Told me to ask again with a, and I quote, big, fuck off tiffany diamond.”

“Every girl deserves a bit of sparkle…” Nat mused “Unlucky for you, you’ve chosen a Billionaire to date.” “She’s not like that.” Steve instantly jumped to his girl’s defence.

“I know.” Nat soothed with a smile “I know.”

They fell into silence for the rest of the way and upon arriving at the base they crept round to the best point of entry, following the heat scanners on Nat’s phone. Steve easily dispatched 3 guards, Natasha another 2 before they reached their room, and she hacked the security codes. They met no one on their way out, and all in all it went far too smoothly for Steve’s liking. He just hoped Katie had got on as well with locating Sitwell.

And she had.

Once Steve and Nat had left, Sam fired up the laptop for her and she plugged the end of her StarkPhone into the USB port.

"So you know this guy we’re looking for?" Sam asked, placing a coffee down next to her as she waited for the programme to run its magic.

"Vaguely." she sighed out, knowing it would be easier if she knew him better. "But I can work with what I have…”

“So using what you have, how do we find him?" he asked

“First, I’m going to check his calendar.” Katie said, nodding at the laptop

“And you can do that?” Sam asked

“Not on my own.” she grinned

“Good morning Miss Stark…” JARVIS’ voice rang out from the laptop, causing Sam to slop coffee down his shirt in surprise.

“Hey JAR, I need a favour…this is urgent.” “Of course…” “I need you to by-pass the SHIELD firewall and get me into their server without being noticed.”

“Certainly, but permit me to ask…is everything ok Miss Stark?”

“Nope it is not…” she sighed “I’m in trouble J, but I’m hoping this is gonna help…”

“Should I alert Mr Stark…call him back from Australia?” “Absolutely not.” she shook her head. “There’s no time, in fact I forbid it…”

JARVIS set to work, informing her he was going to scramble the IP address and set up a ghost server which would, in turn, allow her to access the SHIELD remote log in without being detected.

It didn’t take long, 15 minutes later the SHIELD log in page flashed up.

“So People are lazy and 9 times outta 10 use the same passwords for all their accounts.” she said as she tapped away “And Sitwell is an arrogant ass hole, thinks he’s smart, clever so his password will be something to remind him of that, something that every time he types will feed his ego, remind him of what he’s doing right under everyone’s nose…”

And then it came to her. She took a deep breath as she typed in the words.

“Here goes…” she said, pushing the enter button. There was a short pause, before the Welcome Screen flashed up and she gave a yell of success.

“What was it?” Sam asked, hi-fiving her

“Heil HYDRA.” she smirked, tapping again. "Right, let's see where you're at, you fucker.” she said, as Sam peered over her shoulder.

“Look, briefing over lunch with Senator Stern at Occidental… 13:00 hours…” he read.

“Then he has another meeting at 14:30 back at the Triskellion… so Lunch is our window.” Katie looked at Sam.

“Gives us an hour and a half…”

“Cutting it fine…” Katie mused.

She had a quick scan through his emails, but there was nothing incriminating in there at all. Not that she had expected there to be, whatever HYDRA were up to it would be held on a completely different, hidden network.

“Ok, thanks J…” she said, logging out of Sitwell’s account “Can you disconnect.” “Certainly Miss Stark. Good luck.”

Just as the AI had shut the link down her mobile rang.

“We got it…” Nat’s voice said as she put the phone on speaker. “All ok your side?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Katie replied

“Any luck finding Sitwell?” this time it was Steve

“Yeah, he’s having lunch at Occidental with Senator Stern at 1pm…”

“Oh, how nice, they have a Senator involved.” Nat said sarcastically.

“Doesn’t give us much time…” Steve mused.

“What’s your ETA…” Sam asked.

“About 25 minutes.” Steve said.

“Ok so let’s do the brain storming whilst you’re on the phone…” Katie said, tapping at the laptop. “The restaurant they’re going to is in the Business District…so we need somewhere secure that’s close by to take him for a little chat…”

She brought up the Google Map images so Sam could see.

“There…” Sam said, tapping at the screen, “There’s a multi-storey parking lot a few blocks down…take him up high…”

“Kick him off the edge…” Katie said, shrugging.

“Stark, I like your style.” Nat replied, and Katie could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Ok so we got there where, now we need the how…” Steve sighed. “Well can’t just pick him up at lunch, if the Senator’s there security will be a nightmare.”

"So we wait until he’s finished.” Sam shrugged

"But how do you get him to get in the car?" Steve asked

“We make him…” Katie said, simply, eyeing her gun where it lay on the table.

***** Turns out fear is a very, very good motivator. The plan went off perfectly. They spoofed a phone number, had Sam call Sitwell once lunch was over to instruct him to head to Sam’s car which was parked round the corner. As predicted, Sitwell had been his usual cocky little shit of a self, until Katie had aimed her gun sight at him.

“Because that tie looks really expensive, and I'd hate to mess it up” Sam smirked.

Katie stepped out from her hiding place behind the wall of the restaurant and pressed the muzzle of her gun into Sitwell’s lower back as he passed.

“Agent Sitwell.” she said “One move and this goes straight into your spine. And I’ll make sure it doesn’t kill you, just leaves you with no feeling from the neck down…” Sitwell instantly tensed.

"Miss Stark," he grumbled out, seemingly annoyed, "Of course you're involved with this."

She took in a breath and glanced around, making sure none of his security had realized what had happened to him. Sam was a few paces behind them and he gave her a nod to say they were clear before she turned back to Sitwell.

"You made me a wanted fugitive." she managed out through gritted teeth. “Didn’t have much choice. Get in the car." she ordered, sternly.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Get in the car…” she said again. He stared at her, looked down at the gun before he swallowed and decided to do as he was told.

"We good?" Sam asked. Katie let out a breath and swiped a loose hair away from her face.

"Yeah, let's go."

They drove 2 blocks away and pulled up outside the large Starbucks on the main road.

“You know I could have got a coffee at the Restaurant” Sitwell said, sarcastically. But his cocky demeanour soon dropped when both the rear car doors opened and Steve slid in one side, Natasha in the other.

“Good afternoon Agent Sitwell…” Steve turned to him, aviator shades covering his eyes. Sitwell looked at Steve, then to Natasha before his shoulders slumped and he bowed his head.

“Shit.”

******

Sitwell really was a cocky little bastard, Steve had to give him that. He easily manhandled him onto the top of the Car Park roof, demanding to know what the Algorithm was, backing him up right to the edge where the agent almost laughed, stating that it wasn’t Steve’s style to throw people off the edge.

Well, he had a point.

"You're right. It's not." Steve said releasing Sitwell and smoothing out his suit letting the man nearly sigh in relief. Katie exchanged a glance with Natasha behind Steve’s back, the corner of her mouth twitched up slightly as Nat looked back. They were both going to enjoy this.

"It's theirs" Steve finished, before standing aside as both Katie and Natasha aimed strong kicks to his chest, the two of them sending him tumbling over the edge.

"So you’re definitely moving in together, then huh?” Natasha asked, peering over the edge as Steve and Katie did the same, listening to Sitwell’s screams growing fainter.

“Yeah…” Steve said, looking down off the side of the room, hands in his pockets. “Although I’m not sure how I’m going to cope surrounded by your mess.”

Katie rolled her eyes, her too looking down as Sitwell's screams started getting louder again and suddenly Sam flew over with him in his grasp and dropped him back onto the roof, before landing a few feet away. The three of them turned toward Sitwell and he stuck his hands up in surrender, telling them everything.

"Zola's algorithm is a program, for choosing Insight's targets!" he rushed out.

"What targets?" Steve demands.

"You! A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa City. Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone who's a threat to HYDRA! Now, or in the future," he continued to rush out failing to catch his breath.

"The future? How could it know?" Steve asked in confusion. At this Sitwell laughed as he stumbled back to his feet, looking at Katie before he glanced at Steve.

"How could it not? The 21st century is a digital book. Zola taught HYDRA how to read it," He said getting confused looks from the Soldier in return, "Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, e‐mails, phone calls, your damn SAT scores…Zola's algorithm evaluates peoples' past to predict their future."

Steve swallowed. He’d heard and seen more unbelievable things.

"And what then?" he asked, already thinking he knew but didn’t want to know the answer. Sitwell shook his head in disbelief as Katie exchanged a glance with Sam who was stood behind Sitwell. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Oh, my god. Pierce is gonna kill me," he mumbled to himself and he tried to back away from the advancing super-solider but Sam reached out, holding him in place with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"What then?" Steve demanded louder.

"Then the Insight Helicarriers scratch people off the list. A few million at a time," Sitwell answered hesitantly after a moment.