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danniburgh · 3 years

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Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 23

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +6.4k

Chapter warnings: lmao angst and then fluff, a brief mention of food, and drugs and a dog.

A/N: This chapter is set after season three. // aAAAAAA this is so long i dont even why but it took me like ALL day FUCK FUCK FUCK anyway thanks to all my babies that got me through the desperation of wanting this to write itself lmao, also two chapters and we are DONE with the main story holy shit

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

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gifs: @pascalsky

Javier groaned when he sat up and moved his legs to get them out of the bed and looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand; three forty-eight in the morning. He turned on the lamp, reached at his nape and scratched with blunt nails and reached for the pack of smokes that he left on the nightstand before laying down to try to sleep with the other hand.

He pulled the last one out of the pack and stood up to throw the empty carton in the trashcan near the door; he eyed the empty pack from the day before in the bottom of the can with the cigarette clinging to his lips thanks to near dry spit making them sticky and let out a deep sigh.

It wasn’t working.

His tongue moved to shift the cigarette from his lips and he let it fall inside the trashcan, knowing it wouldn’t be the last one he put between his lips, but at least he didn’t light it.

Javier thought of getting out of the room and raiding his dad’s bar again, but he knew it wouldn’t do him any good.

It wasn’t working.

He knew it, and it couldn't be denied any longer. He wasn’t getting any younger and his old ways weren’t helping him forget as they used to ten or fifteen years before.

Javier walked back to the bed and sat on the edge, letting his half naked body fall backwards on the mattress and looking at the ceiling, he felt his hand twitch and he felt it empty without a nicotine stick firmly pressed between his index and his thumb but did nothing to calm it down.

Ten or fifteen years before: had it really been that long? Javier huffed at nothing and scratched his chest, leaving his hand there, uselessly wondering what would it be of him if he did something different; incidentally working through years and years of missteps, mishappens, mistakes, and shaping them in some other way that would have saved him from five months of poor sleep and constant drunkenness, five months of chain-smoking and lack of sharpness, five months of only remembering the bad things he had done and the bad things he deserved.

He huffed again because of course his retirement wouldn’t be him sitting on a porch to enjoy the evening Texas breeze and a glass of scotch; even if he had tried it.

It was having nightmares every third night he wanted nothing but to shove deep inside his head, but that then, reluctantly, he had to tell his new therapist his dad had forced him to go to.

It was having to remember all the men he saw dying every time he heard the words war or coke or shooting. Having to remember them changing and fighting and dying for a cause he wasn’t sure if he still believed in. Having to remember Carrillo every time he and Steve talked on the phone.

It was remembering you each time someone sent him a letter congratulating his work or asking for consultation or asking for an interview; because he had an idea of what you had been through and he was sure he didn’t deserve all that claptrap. He did nothing but cause chaos and destruction and death and even though his therapist said it wasn’t his fault he knew it was because he aided for it to happen.

But you? You did everything you could to find yourself a way to recover what was yours, and you still lost it.

Javier sat up again and after six exact seconds of consideration, he leaned forward and opened his nightstand drawer. He took the black tape he had been clinging to for five months and held it in front of him for a couple of minutes.

He chuckled at himself and gripped the small cassette, took from the drawer his tape player, pressed the red button for it to open, let the tape fall in the slit and closed it, turned it on and rewinded the tape, trying to make the calculations in his head of how many times he had repeated that process as the tape ran to the beginning.

He put the headphones on, laid down back on the bed and pressed play.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…”

God, how he missed you.

The phone rang again, fuck the phone, you thought, and hid your face under a pillow, trying to fall asleep again despite the clear signal that you were no longer sleepy.

And the phone rang again, you lifted your head from the cocoon of pillows and eyed the clock on your nightstand, who was calling you at five seventeen in the morning?

Grunting, you got out of the bed and walked out of the bedroom to the small space that made your living room, dining room and kitchen and got to the phone.

“Hello?” your voice was a deep groan, and you cleared your throat.

“Another letter came for you, when are you gonna change your address?” your dad’s voice broke through the receiver and you closed your eyes, breathing in and out the stress it was already provoking in you.

“I’ll get to it, dad,” you replied “are you gonna send it to me or can I go to the house?” you questioned, feeling already your lower lip tremble.

“I’ll send it, your mom doesn’t wanna see you yet,” he let out in a stern voice “sorry, pumpkin.” he whispered and hung up the phone.

You sat on the armrest of the loveseat next to the phone and let your tears fall from your eyes, not even bothering about cleaning them anymore.

You sighed and nodded to yourself, letting your tired gaze roam around your tiny living space and you missed the openness of your family house, the one you had come back to and were expelled from by an angry mother that felt ashamed of the truth you told them.

But you had to give it to her, she didn’t even know you went down to Colombia, or that you’d been having drug issues, or that they fired you.

She had told you she didn’t know who you were anymore.

Neither did you.

So you left, they couldn’t be more disappointed in you than you were in yourself, so you walked out as your mom wanted and tried to find a home for yourself as you still wondered what the hell were you supposed to do. There wasn’t a handbook or a protocol that taught people how to stop being a DEA agent, the government didn’t train people to go back to civility or even offered a program to forget all the shit you had lived in the places they had sent you.

You stayed in your hometown, unknowingly to your old friends and twenty minutes away from your parent’s home and didn’t leave your house unless absolutely necessary; Albuquerque wasn’t a small town, but it wasn’t big, and you were dreading walking past someone who knew you before you had lost yourself and tried to explain all your baggage, you didn’t have the time, or the energy. And you didn’t want people feeling sorry for yourself, with the woman in the mirror you had enough.

Everything seemed pointless, and you felt heavy all the time, as if you were carrying a chain ball in each foot and shackles in your hands while being dragged down by quicksand.

In the kitchen's corner you saw the last two boxes you still didn’t have energy to unpack after moving them across the continent and let out a teary sight as you stood from the armrest and walked to them.

You opened the first box and saw it filled with office clutter; pencils, markers, some notebooks and notepads, the brown journal you had been looking for to burn on your stove; a set of keys you weren’t sure what they opened and in the bottom, folded pieces of paper.

“Oh, no.” you muttered to the air of the warm kitchen and you doubted reaching in for it… The hesitation lasted two minutes but for you it was like two hours, you knew what it was, you knew why it was in that box and when you took it it felt hot and heavy. You were holding feelings in that letter, you were holding hours of shed tears and memories you didn’t want to have anymore. Memories that still haunted you whenever you smelled roasted colombian coffee and saw an ad of Malduros on tv.

You didn’t open it. You knew what was written there. And for a few seconds you thought of burning it on the stove instead.

“Well, I don’t want this, might as well send it.” you muttered under your breath, recognizing it would do you some good to stop holding to it, acknowledging it would do you some good to know he had it. If he wanted to rip it into millions of pieces or burn it or toss it in the trash or eat it, it was his problem.

You bit your lip as you walked to the phone; you hadn’t thought of him in a while. But as you sat on the loveseat all the shit you wanted to bury if not get rid of came back to your mind like a high wave of a rough sea; sharp, cold, gritty.

“Shit.” you gasped, trying to breathe in and out several times because you didn’t want to cry. It was too early for crying.

You grabbed the phone and thought who could have Javier’s address. God, even thinking of his name made your chest flutter and your stomach churn. You had fooled yourself into thinking he didn’t have an effect on you anymore, into even assuring five months was enough to forget him. What a fool.

You dialed the number of the only person you knew for sure knew the address by heart; the phone rang three times before it was answered.

“Hello?” a sleepy nasal voice greeted, and you smiled through the few tears that had accumulated in your eyes, grateful that he still had his embassy issued cell phone.

“Stod!” your smile was making your cheeks hurt, and you wondered in the back of your head when was the last time you had smiled.

“Who’s this? Flor?” he asked and you let out a stiff chuckle. You decided not to be a huge asshole and dump something heavy as your actual name that early in the morning, so you went with it.

“Yeah, sorry to call at this hour, did I wake you?” you played with the edge of the loveseat’s armrest.

“Kinda,” a noise of shuffle was heard “but it’s almost seven here, so I’m not that mad,” he teased, making you chuckle again “how are you? to what do I owe the honor?”

“Uhm, I–‌I’m calling to take advantage of you,” you said, hearing his chuckle through the line and a whisper of of course you did, “by any chance do you know Peña’s address in Texas?” you asked, closing your eyes and crossing your fingers, wishing for him to not ask:

“Why?”

“I–‌I have something of his...” you mumbled under your breath “I just found it and I wanna send it.” you said, which wasn’t technically a lie.

“Uh…” Stoddard hesitated, and you heard a faint of a pouring noise in the back that made you sigh, a cup of coffee would do you wonders, “well I do–I don't know if I’m allowed to just say it, y’know?” you frowned.

“Oh, come on, please?” you pleaded, your leg started bouncing because of the anxiety that was growing in your chest.

“What is it? is something important?” he asked.

“Super important,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see, “he needs it.”

“How do you know?” he questioned again, and you whined under your breath.

“Uhm, I ju–‌I just know, uhm…” since when were you a twitchy, nervous mess? “can’t you just tell me?”

“Not really, no.” he muttered in that voice that made you want to punch him and hug him at the same time.

You let out the air of your lungs and controlled your body.

You had promised yourself to tell the truth when it was necessary. So you were going to.

“Look, Stod, this is long to explain, okay?” you began, and he hummed affirmatively in response, “the only thing you need to know is that the thing I have here is very important that he gets because he needs to know that I kept it for him.” you said, closing your eyes again.

“Flor you just told me nothing.” he let out, his voice was being muffled and it sounded like he had something in his mouth.

“Fuck, Stoddard, I love him, okay?” you let out “and this thing I have is a letter that I need him to have so he knows I love him!” you panted and bit your lip when he didn’t answer.

You just had said out loud you loved someone, you just had said to someone you loved Javier Peña for the first time. Shit.

“Oh,” Stoddard said after a moment and you held your breath, “you have where to write?”

“You’re a fucking king!”

Six hours later, you wanted nothing else but to turn the fucking car around.

“This is a mistake, this is a fucking mistake!” you yelled inside your car, opening the glove box to toss there your sunglasses. The highway 285 was eternal, and you hated driving through it; it was empty, there was nothing but desert landscapes and the occasional tree, but you were halfway, just crossing the state border and there was nothing in the everlasting earth that would make you drive back home, not even your fucking hesitation, not even your self-doubt.

“What the fuck am I gonna say?” you asked yourself again, chewing on your lower lip and gripping the steering wheel, “am I just pulling on his driveway and knocking on his door and saying hi I’m sorry I broke your heart I have a letter for you? Fuck!” you saw the beginning of yet another town and you drove slowly looking for a gas station, “or better yet, I read this shit to him to complete the humiliation!” you turned your head for a second at the letter resting easily in the co-pilot’s seat and you groaned, finding a gas station. You were also hungry.

With the car’s tank full and a plastic bag filled with snacks for the remaining six hours, you sighed to yourself and started driving again.

“You’re doing this because you need closure,” you told yourself, shoving your hand into a bag of salted chips and bringing three to your mouth “if he doesn’t wanna see you, too bad, he’s gonna miss your haircut,” you mumbled, chewing at the same time “you leave the letter and let him decide what to do with it.”

With the highway 285 long behind you and the sky just beginning to turn orange, you had convinced yourself of your own reasons and you even had a plan to go back home as soon as you were done in Laredo. You also had promised yourself and all your Muertos, you wouldn’t react to Javier Peña if he didn’t react to you and as you had learned in your three-year station in México, you can’t break a promise you made to dead people.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you said when the marked map told you you were a block away from the Peña’s ranch house, you were chewing the last bit of a nearly melted chocolate bar you had bought hours ago as your nervousness betrayed you and you started chuckling at your impulses, “holy fuck, I wanna go home!”

But you were already there. The gate was open and there were two trucks parked on the driveway. So you sucked everything you were feeling, and you turned off the ignition. Fuck. It.

You breathed in and out several times before you unbuckled your seatbelt, grabbed the letter and opened the door. You did it again as you walked the gravel path to the house and were grateful it was already dark, so at least the night could help you hide until the last second.

You stopped walking, rationality coming back to you.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you whispered to yourself and turned around, shaking your head as you walked back to the car.

“Mija!” you heard behind you, you froze in place and stiffened at the sound of a thick accent in a rough and warm voice.

“Oh, no.” you said under your breath.

“It’s you!” you turned around, and you saw the face of the man you had only met through an old picture Javier carried with him at all times. “viniste.” (you came) behind him walked a black, large dog that ignored the man and huffed at you.

“I’m sorry?” your voice went out thin and high, and you wanted to chastise yourself for it. You had given yourself a seven-hour pep talk on the way, and you were already breaking.

“I told him,” the man rolled his eyes behind the glasses he was wearing and gestured for you to walk closer “Jesús Peña, nice to finally meet you,” he extended his hand to you and you took it and shook it, the dog got closer to you and smelled your legs, you tried to smile at him and at the dog but tears were already gathering inside your eyes “le dije que ibas a venir a buscarlo.” (I told him you’ll come looking for him)

“I’m sorry, Mr. Peña, I–‌I do–‌”

“Mr. Peña nada,” he interrupted, “call me Chucho,” you nodded and sniffed slightly “ven,” (come) he gestured again and started walking towards the house, “Pepe, métete.” (get inside) he called, and the dog trotted to his side.

“Wait, Chucho, wait!” you called him under your breath as you followed him, he didn’t stop.

“Come on in,” he opened the house door and waited for you to get inside. He nodded his head for you to walk in and you frowned.

“You don’t even know who I am, what ar–‌”

“I know enough,” he said solemnly, walked inside and you and the dog did too and he pointed to an armchair “siéntate, mija, he’s on the back.” he turned around and walked through an archway to what it looked like the kitchen and disappeared through a door, Pepe behind him.

“What the fuck.” you sobbed out, knowing you had little time to leave the letter you were clutching in your hands on the coffee table in front of you and walk out and leave for good. But you couldn’t move, you were in Javier’s house and you wanted to stop being there, but your body was frozen in place and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to scream at yourself, at your fucking impulses; you had all the opportunities to turn around and go back home, why didn’t you listen to your logical, rational, always right brain?

“Hi.” you heard behind your back and you covered your mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding the fucking letter.

You turned around and blinked the first two tears of what you already knew was going to be a sea of them.

He was wearing the red shirt. And God, it was his color.

Javier wanted to run away and hide.

He had just made peace with never seeing you again; he had just accepted that the only part he would have of you was that voice mail you had left him months before. But there you were, teary and gorgeous in front of him. Shaking and with your hands holding a piece of paper as if it were your lifeline.

His head was a contradiction, because he wanted to grab you and hug you all the same he wanted to grab you and shove you out of his house and his life.

“What are you doing here?” Javier asked, knowing deep inside him he wanted to tell you how good you looked and how much he liked your new hair. You let out a shaky breath at his deep voice. You had missed it.

It was the first time you saw him in five months, and the weight of your feelings for him fell again on your shoulders like a recently broken off boulder, heavy, rough edged and shapeless.

“I don’t know.” you answered truthfully, he sighed and deviated his eyes from you, you breathed in heavily and the only thing that got into your lungs was his essence. You cursed under your breath and he huffed, putting his hands on his hips and leaning to the side.

“How d'you found me?” he questioned, and you huffed through the tears.

“I have my resources.” you let out on a whisper. Trying to find his eyes, you needed to see his eyes.

“What do you want?” Javier asked again, and you deflated at the tone of his voice. The rational part of your brain yelled I told you so at your feelings and you knew it was right, you were expecting too much of yourself and of him.

“See you,” you bit your lower lip and Javier saw from the corner of his eyes how you scrunched up your nose, and he felt something inside his chest flutter, hating and loving all the same how much of you he still had stored inside his memory, “I have something for you.”

“Keep it.” he let out. You shook your head and raised your hand with the letter on it.

“Read it.” you half ordered, half pleaded, Javier chuckled and then shook his head, mimicking you.

“I don’t want it.” he knew he was lying to himself, he wanted to know what it was, he wanted to grip it and smell the paper and read it over and over but his body wasn’t responding to what his feelings were telling him and only responded, almost in automatic, to his prideful side, to that side of him that still resented you and himself.

“Alright then,” you said, standing straight after realizing you had regained the ability to read him even through your tears, and understanding there was something he was struggling with, “I’ll read it.”

“Stop.” Javier frowned and looked at you, his eyes pleading for you to do something you couldn’t decipher.

“I know, okay?” you said, trying to reassure him and yourself “I know I’m in no position to ask for shit,” Javier dropped his hands to the sides “but I just want ten minutes, just ten of your life, and you’ll never have to see me again if that’s what you want.”

You knew it was a risky thing to say, but you needed him to know, you needed him to understand you because you knew and he knew you did understand him. And he needed to know you. You and your version.

He said nothing, you took it as his queue to start so you breathed in deeply and unfolded the letter.

“Stop.” Javier said under his breath.

“No,” you wiped a tear off your cheek “I wrote this when I went back to Colombia after I got fired,” Javier looked at you and you saw his face quirk in something close to pain “uhm, before I wrote this I drove around Bogotá,” you recalled that last day in the city and how much it pained you to be there, “I went–‌I went to some of the places you told me you liked” you tried to smile and dropped your eyes to your shoes, trying to find something to cling to and compose yourself “even that little cafe you told me about, near the palace of justice, remember?” you sobbed out. And he called your name. Making you gasp.

“Stop,” you looked up at him and saw him frowning, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “we don’t need this.”

“I do!” you let out, Javier brushed his lips with his thumb and felt his hand twitch in need of nicotine again “I need to tell you all this!” you wiped your tears away again “I need closure!” you cried out.

Javier felt his stomach turn around and all the blood of his body went to his feet. Fuck.

How could he had been so stupid? he got into his own feelings too much and he forgot that you had cried your eyes out to him all those months ago when you handed him everything you were in a couple of manila folders. He had gotten wrapped by his own feelings and the hurricane your declaration had created in his life that he had forgotten just how much you were suffering as well. Because he might have thought about you; all the time, every day; he thought about your past and your reasons and motivations. He even thought of you naked on his bed in Colombia, under his body, moaning and gasping when he needed some release, but he forgot to think about your feelings.

“I didn’t come here to ask for forgiveness because I know I don’t deserve it,” you said and Javier felt the wetness of a tear escaping his eye and making its way through his cheek, “I’m trying to get closure, Javier, please let me try.”

Javier nodded.

You cried more when you saw him brush a tear off with his thumb and chew the inside of his mouth. You wanted to run away; you were sure he was better before you came to his house and disrupted his peace; you were hurting him again, and you wanted to kneel in front of him and ask him for what you said you weren’t seeking. He made you want so much.

You sniffed and dropped your eyes to the open letter in your hand, Javier didn’t move from where he was standing.

“No amount of guilt will or can change the past,” you began, Javier crossed his arms on his chest and saw movement to his side, “that much I know. I kno–‌know that it doesn’t matter,” you sniffed again and Javier turned his head to watch the dog casually walking towards him and sitting next to his boots. You saw it too, and you let out a sad chuckle.

“Ignore him.” he just said. You nodded.

“Uhm, it doesn’t matter how much I apologize, or how many I’m sorry’s I mouth, forgiveness doesn’t come for free.” you didn’t want to lift your eyes to see him, so you continued.

Javier only saw you reading him something he was sure you had poured your heart into, and he wanted nothing but to hear what you wanted to say to him, but he couldn’t focus into listening, because there you were, again in front of him doing what he never dared to do.

Opening your fucking chest, taking your heart out and giving it raw to him.

“...knowing and realizing and acknowledging just how much I love you.”

Javier drowned a gasp, as he fell in love with you all over again, you were doing what he didn’t have the balls to do, because in his sleepless sleep he wanted to look for you, in the middle of his idle nights, just after waking up after a nightmare, he wanted to find you and go to you and tell you whatever the fuck he could to be back with you. But he never did, he never did because he was a coward, because he feared his own feelings so fucking much.

He couldn't hear anything of it after your declaration of love. God, how much he loved you. You were standing there, with your eternally hopeful eyes filled with crystalline tears and several pages of written feelings. And he realized, there, with you in the middle of his living room, shifting to the next page, that even though you were extremely similar, you were also very different.

“...with you I found a reason to give up after all the shit I've lived in…” you muttered and he found the differences inside him; you were braver than him, you were smarter and more connected with what you felt; you weren’t scared of your feelings as he was. You went for what you wanted and even though it had been five months of that dreadful day when he saw his heart squeezed out of his body by your hesitant hand, that day he still replayed inside his head when the day was just over and his brain was floating between sleep and awakeness, he still wondered why you were bothering.

“There were so many things I thought…” you kept reading as he wondered if it was possible for the two of you to connect with each other outside of shared trauma and sympathy for each other’s experiences. But he answered to himself that even if you two weren’t as emotionally available as you needed to be to build a relationship or if you both were having a hard time adapting to be and live out of the system, maybe the love was real.

You stopped reading after noticing he was just standing there with his arms crossed and his eyes on you but not seeing you; you wiped the last of your tears and chuckled bitterly to yourself. Making him blink a few times.

“Fuck this,” you crumpled the pages in your hands and dropped them on the coffee table, shaking your head. Javier frowned, “it doesn’t matter what I read, I shouldn’t have come.” you said, drowning your sobs and gasping for air. He wasn’t paying attention, and nothing about it was making you feel any better about anything.

“What?” Javier whispered, dropping his hands to his sides.

“A’right, then…” you didn’t look at him and tried to control your breathing again “I guess that’s what I wanted to do,” you walked to the door and opened it, Javier wanted to ask what the fuck was happening, he wanted to grab your arm and stop you as he didn’t do it when you were leaving his office back in Colombia “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Javier,” he winced slightly involuntarily at the way you sobbed out his name “I’ll go.”

You walked out of the house covering your mouth with your hand to muffle your sobs, your rational brain was right, it was a mistake; it was a complete and utter mistake, and you were so ashamed of yourself for even thinking it would change anything. You walked to your car feeling the sharp, stinging sensation of a migraine settling in your head. You heard steps behind you and you turned around slowly, not wanting to put hope on the source being Javier.

“Mija,” you look at Chucho trying to catch up with you, “¿a dónde vas?” (where are you going?)

“I’m going home.” you said, shrugging at the man when he stopped in front of you.

“Why?” he asked, frowning.

“Because he said nothing, Chucho,” you bit your lip and looked at the Texan night sky and huffed at yourself, “he said nothing.”

“But he wants you, mija!” he assured you, and you shook your head several times.

“If he wants me as you say,” you pointed towards the house behind him, “then how come I’m not with him?” you reasoned, “he doesn’t want me.”

You dropped your eyes to the gravel path as Chucho sighed and raised his hand to squeeze your shoulder just enough for you to feel less sad. Just how a father would do.

Chucho glared at the house, the door open and Pepe standing in the threshold; his son had been back for months, he had been living next to him, eating next to him, working next to him and breathing next to him just as he did before he went away but he knew, just like a father could, he was not the same man that left.

He reminisced over the muchacho his son was before he left Laredo, so eager to get out of the small town he grew up in and that harbored his family home, so anxious to meet new horizons, so keen to find and explore new places and learn new things; he sometimes found himself missing that boy, he sometimes missed his Javi; the one that helped him build a paddock for his own horse, the one that washed his truck without asking and without failing each friday evening, the one that took care of his Mamá’s funeral at sixteen when himself was too sad to think about coffins or tombstones; because the man that came back to him after almost two decades too far away from home wasn’t the same.

He had seen and done things that Chucho never wanted to to ask about but he imagined, his Javier wasn’t the same. And Chucho knew why, but he also knew about you. Javi had talked about you way too much for his own good, as he did everything. And Chucho also knew why, he wasn’t letting the woman that made his son come back home run away.

“He does want you,” he said, slowly, with a low voice, as if it were a secret, “mijo… es un idiota a veces, but he loves you.” (he’s an idiot sometimes)

“You don’t know that.” you refuted.

“I do,” he gave you a smile that was barely visible under the white mustache “el te ama, y yo…” (he loves you, and I…) “I’m so grateful.” you shook your head as two thick tears left your eyes.

“I broke his heart.” you sobbed out.

“Y me lo trajiste a casa, Florecita” (and you brought him home to me, little flower) you sobbed harder, not able to control it anymore, and he brought you to him, and held you.

“He told you my fake name?” you asked between sobs.

“He told me what you look like.” he muttered.

“I’m so sorry.” you let yourself be wrapped by him and you hid your face on his shoulder.

“Don’t be, without you I would’ve lost my only child.” you held him tighter.

“Please.” you pleaded for nothing and everything at the same time.

“You gotta fight for him, mija.” he muttered to your ear, and you shook your head, still leaning into him.

“I’m fighting for him!” you almost yelled “I’m here, aren’t I?” you lifted your head to look at the man and you gasped for air, dropping your hands to your sides “I drove almost thirteen hours non-stop all the way from Albuquerque just to be here!” you told him and the man stiffened as you lost your shit in front of him, you gripped your head between your hands “thirteen hours to read him that stupid letter and he didn’t say shit!”

“You did what?” you heard and lifted your head to see Javier standing behind his dad.

Chucho looked at Javier and then at you with your cheeks dampened with tears. He squeezed your shoulder again and turned to walk to the house.

“You were in Albuquerque all this time?” he said, and you nodded, noticing he was holding the letter in his hand “when you said you’d go you meant back there?” he frowned in confusion.

“Well, yeah, I have nowhere to stay so I might as well drive home.” you muttered, Javier’s frown deepened, and he stepped towards you.

“Stay here,” he said, “if you wanna leave you leave in the morning.” his voice was thin and low. You looked at his eyes and saw them reddened and wet.

“Did you read it?” you whispered out. He stepped towards you again, nodding.

“Stay.” he whispered back.

“You don’t want me.” you said under your breath as shook your head and he stepped closer.

“Who says that?” he asked, and you looked at the gravel path again.

“I won’t stay.” you felt Javier’s warm fingers graze under your chin and lift your head to him slowly.

“Don’t be so stubborn,” he chastised you with half a smirk forming on his lips “stay with us.” you shook your head again.

“You don’t want me here but you want me to stay,” you said, frowning at him “Javier you can’t have it bo–‌”

“I want you to stay,” he interrupted you “I want you to stay with me,” he whispered as his fingers moved to your cheek and wiped away a tear. “please.”

Javier had read your letter after you walked out and realized, at the prospect of you leaving for what it seemed like forever, at the possibility of you leaving him for good and he never getting to see you or your gorgeous face or your hypnotizing eyes or hearing your voice that did so many things on him, that the balance of his other losses leaned upwards when he weighed the probability of losing you.

Did he care about what you did? of course he did, it still stung sometimes deep inside his chest, it still filled him with something close to grief.

Was he willing to work it out and let it aside because he didn’t want to feel the agony and deep sorrow of not having you by his side he had been feeling for the last five months again? yes.

And the answer to that question inside his head startled him and shook him deeply.

You were there. God, you were there, there was no way he was going to let you leave.

Javier decided you could work it out later, he loved you way too much not to try. He didn’t even plan to love you the way he did, the way he discovered by reading that letter or remembering the man he was without you. He didn’t even plan to love you at all, but he did. He was madly, insanely, deeply in love with you.

Javier moved his hand to your shoulder and let the one holding the letter find its way to your waist. Find its way home.

“Don’t go.” he whispered again. He moved the last step to wrap his hands around you. You let out a low yelp at the feeling of his body so close to you, for a second you froze in place, your eyes closed and his warmth invaded your entire body as he hid his head in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your essence as you hugged him back and gripped him tightly against you.

Javier felt as if all his parts were being glued back together.

“Stay with me.” he whispered against the skin of your neck.

So you stayed.

←previous // next→

*THE LETTER*

Pepe:

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#javier peña #Javier Pena #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos fan fic #narcos netflix #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #pedro pascal characters #rushingly bittersweet tag

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capcarolsdanver · 3 years

Text

A Christmas Carol

Summary: You’re left with the disappointing fact that you will likely be spending yet another Christmas without your girlfriend, Carol Danvers. Your friends offer you support, but all you really need right now is your girlfriend to return from space to be with you for your favourite holiday. Can you count on a Christmas miracle? Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader A/N: Well... it’s not quite Christmas still, but I severely underestimated how busy I would be over the holidays, so please enjoy this late Christmas fic! Feedback is always appreciated so please let me know what you think! Please do not repost any of my writing anywhere else without my permission.

The annual Avengers Christmas get together is in full swing, and your eyes sweep out across the room to all of your closest friends around you. Of course, everyone’s having a great time, and the open space of the large party hall at Avenger HQ is full of laughter and joyous chatter amongst the guests.

Thor, who still doesn’t exactly understand Christmas, just seems happy to get to spend time with his favourite people. He brought along a generous supply of Asgardian alcohol for those who have what would be classified as a very high tolerance to alcohol, so as expected everyone is in a very joyous mood.

You yourself had found a spot on one of the couches surrounding a small table and had barely moved the whole night, feeling more in the mood to spectate in the festivities rather than participate this year.

Not to say that you’re sitting on your own in some miserable slump, because you are genuinely trying to enjoy everybody’s company, but you can’t deny the Carol-sized void that is particularly evident anywhere you go. Especially during the holidays.

As if to emphasise it, Steve, who’s sitting opposite you from across the small table, catches your eye.

“So, Y/N. When’s your lady coming home?”

He asks you kindly, with a warm smile, as Steve always does. Despite this, you can’t help it when your own smile falters and everyone sitting in your immediate proximity grows quiet, regarding you with sympathy.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Steve rushes to say when he seems to realise his mistake.

“No, don’t be,” you’re quick to reassure. “I knew what I was getting into when I started dating Carol. I can’t exactly expect space crime to conveniently stop in time for the holidays, can I?”

You choose not to bring up that this will be the third Christmas in a row that you have to spend without Carol, but you still feel the pity practically radiating from every person in the group.

“Okay, who else thinks it’s time for shots?” Sam yells loud enough to be heard over the music by everyone, and the group seems to loudly agree. You remind yourself to thank Sam later for successfully shifting everyone’s attention from you.

Everyone scrambles to each grab a shot. You remain seated on the couch, and moments later Nat takes her own spot on the couch next to you and presses a shot glass into your hands just in time for everybody to simultaneously start counting down from 3.

Somewhere between shouting and cheering, everyone downs their shots, and you all seem to collectively wince. You and Nat both grimace at the burn of the alcohol and it manages to get a chuckle from you.

Nat drops her shot glass on the table before she turns to face you again.

“So. Real talk,” she raises an eyebrow as if warning you not to try to back away from the conversation. “When did you last speak to Carol?”

“A couple weeks ago,” you admit, sighing. “She left on some mission about a month ago. But you know how it is when she’s working up there. It’s so hard for either of us to contact the other.”

Nat smiles sadly. “I’m sorry.” She pats your knee and you shrug at her, though you feel like you’re able to let your guard down a bit now that everyone else in preoccupied.

“Yeah, it sucks,” you let out, feeling Carol’s absence hit you all over again. Your eyes fill with tears that threaten to spill over.

Unexpectedly, and uncharacteristically, Nat pulls you into a hug. You give yourself little time to think about her rare show of affection before you gratefully wrap your arms around her and rest your chin on her shoulder.

“Did she tell you how long the mission might last?”

You shake her head. “No, she just said she might not be able to contact me until she was done.”

“Okay, I think you need another drink,” Nat says, releasing you from her arms. “I’ll be back.”

You quickly wipe at your eyes at the chance of any rogue tears that managed to fall and smile at her before she stands up and heads towards the bar.

————————

On the morning of Christmas Eve, you wake up with a start to some kind of commotion going from somewhere outside the room. You quickly survey your surroundings, remembering that you had decided the previous night to just stay at Avengers HQ after the party, like almost everyone else had. You’re in your old room that you used to live in before you and Carol had moved out together.

The commotion that had woken you up appears to still be going on if the shouting from somewhere outside your closed door is any indiction, so you begrudgingly get up to go investigate.

You follow the loud intrusion of sound into the kitchen, where you aren’t all that surprised to find Bucky and Sam shouting and gesturing wildly at one another.

“Dude, don’t lie. You literally stole my pop tart straight from my plate!” Bucky looks livid. Opposite him, Sam throws his arms out away from his body, matching Bucky’s outrage.

“You have no proof, you moron.”

“Why do I need proof when there was no one else around? It couldn’t have been anyone else.”

You continue watching their exchange, entirely unsurprised that they are blowing up over something as small as a pop tart. You’re half considering just heating another pop tart to shut them up when Nat leans on the wall next to you, taking a sip from her steaming mug of coffee while her eyes also land on the boys.

“Bet you’re glad you don’t wake up to this kind of thing everyday in that fancy apartment of yours, huh?”

“You can say that again,” you laugh. Though, of course, you probably do prefer waking up to these regular early morning antics from the boys than to the empty silence of your apartment whenever Carol isn’t there with you.

“You’re still coming with us to look at Christmas lights tonight, right?”

To be honest, you’d completely forgotten about Steve’s plan for you all to go on some Christmas light trail that night, and although Christmas is generally your favourite holiday, you find yourself not really in the mood to celebrate it this year.

But then again, anything to take your mind off of Carol’s absence sounds appealing to you right now.

“You bet.”

————————

You trail the group, looking around you at all the incredible Christmas displays people have decorated their homes with. There was absolutely no denying how beautiful the entire street is, but as much as you try you just can’t seem to get out of your own head.

Steve’s leading the group and you can hear them all excitedly chatting, pointing out particularly well decorated houses, but you’re content to linger towards the back of the group and take everything in on your own. You know you’re lacking the Christmas spirit needed to participate with them right now, anyway.

A solid hand is suddenly falling around your shoulders, successfully shaking you from whatever broody train of thought you were on as you almost jump out of your skin. Your head snaps to the person you were now attached to, seeing Thor’s wide smile. He tugs you closer to him in an almost brotherly fashion.

“Lovely night, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is,” you manage, after your heart beat finally slows back down to a normal rate again.

“Ah, you’re yet to hear from Carol, I presume?” Thor asks. You’ve gotta give him credit. As much as he’s completely enthralled by the Christmas lights surrounding you, Thor can still pick up on your solemn mood with remarkable ease.

“You presume correctly.”

You see Thor hesitate for only a moment before he speaks. “Might I offer a few words, Y/N?”

“Sure,” you say, sighing. What could you lose from hearing what he has to say? Plus, the Asgardian usually provided you with some pretty solid advice.

“Please give Carol a little patience. I know firsthand how difficult it can be to communicate with you all while I’m not here.” You soften at Thor’s words, not even aware of how tense your body was. “You all are my family. And it hurts when I’m unable to talk to any of you whenever I’d like,” he explains. “So, please just remember that Carol is likely just as anxious to speak with you as well.”

“Right,” you say more to yourself. Thor’s words somehow do make you feel some kind of comfort in the fact that Carol wasn’t choosing to go so long without talking to you. Not that you thought she was, but the reassurance helps.

Thor squeezes your shoulder in comfort and loosens his grip from around your shoulders, but before he can leave your side again you grab his arm.

“Thank you, Thor,” you say sincerely, and he gives you an understanding smile before leaving you to your own thoughts again.

At some point a little later, Steve seems to notice from his spot at the front of the pack that you’re still lagging behind, because he drops his pace to fall into step with you.

“Are you having a good night, Y/N?”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you smile. As distracted as you’ve been, it’s hard to miss how much fun the others in your group are having. “Thanks for organising this, Steve.”

He returns your smile and nods. “Well, for most of us, we’re all we’ve got. I figured it was time to start making some traditions of our own.”

“Well I like that sound of that,” you say. You really do appreciate everything Steve does for every single one of you, and he was right. You are family. Personally, if it weren’t for the Avengers, you would have no one else. You know the same applies for many of you, the man you were currently talking to included.

“Hey, listen,” Steve says in a considerably more careful tone. “I wanted to apologise again for bringing up Carol last night.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” you reassure him, shaking your head.

“I know, but-” He shrugs. “I just feel bad about bringing her up when we were supposed to be getting into the Christmas spirit last night. I mean, what is this, your second Christmas without Carol?”

“My third, actually,” you mutter, clearing your throat and dropping your eyes to the pavement in front of you.

“Shit, here I go again,” he curses, watching you. “I’m sorry.”

“Steve, stop apologising,” you say firmly. “Seriously, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

You take a scan of your surroundings. The street sign catches your eye and you realise you’re only a few blocks away from your apartment, which sounds like an awfully appealing place to be right now. You were exhausted from your previous late night, plus, what little Christmas spirit you did have has been all but spent this far into the Christmas light trail.

“Oh, you know what? We’re pretty close to my apartment. I think I might call it a night.”

Steve’s eyes widen and his features settle into a look of guilt. “You aren’t going to come back to HQ with the rest of us?”

“Nah, I think I just want to head home. I’m pretty tired.”

“Oh man, I totally ruined your night, didn’t I?” Steve shakes his head at himself, his look of guilt deepening even further. “I can’t believe I brought Carol up again.”

You interrupt Steve’s inevitable continued apologies before he can even start.

“Steve, no. My brain was never going to turn off tonight, anyway. It wouldn’t matter if none of you mentioned Carol the entire day, I still would have thought of her.”

Steve looks fairly unconvinced, still clearly internally scolding himself. Though you notice his features soften and eventually he nods.

“Do you need someone to walk with you?”

“I’ll be fine. It’s really not far at all.”

“Alright,” he hesitantly agrees. “But we’ll see you in the morning to exchange gifts and everything, right?”

“Right,” you laugh. “Hey, do me a favour and let everyone else know I left early. Nat would never let me leave a group activity early if I told her I wanted to.”

“No problem,” Steve laughs.

You give his forearm a quick squeeze in thanks, waving to him before you make your way towards your apartment.

————————

You’ve barely even made it a block before your phone starts ringing. You fish it out from your pocket, assuming that it’s Nat, calling to berate you for leaving the group early. Without even checking the caller ID, you answer.

“I don’t want to hear it, I’m not coming back,” you say, not leaving opportunity for the person on the other line to get a word in first.

“Coming back to where?”

The voice on the other line is not Nat. In fact, it’s the last voice you were expecting to hear tonight.

“Carol?!” You practically squeal into the phone, stopping dead in your tracks.

“Hey, baby,” she says and you instantly melt, having gone weeks without hearing her voice.

“Oh my god. Hi,” you greet back, feeling like you could burst into tears at any given minute.

“You okay there?” You can practically hear her smirk and the image of it in your mind makes you smile.

“Yeah, I just can’t believe I’m hearing your voice right now.”

“Well you better believe it, babe, because it’s definitely happening.”

Your brain finally recovers from the shock enough to ask a vital question. “Wait, does this mean your mission is over?”

“Mmhm,” she confirms. “Finished a couple days ago, actually, but this is the first chance I’ve had to be able to call you.”

You can’t help the sudden hopefulness that you feel. If the mission ended a couple of days ago and she was already on her way back to Earth, then it was entirely possible that she could be back within the next day.

You let out a deep breath, your emotions almost getting the best of you. With your mind racing a million miles a minute, you subconsciously start taking some more steps forward. The snow beneath your feet crunches slightly with every step you take.

“Where are you?” She asks curiously, and you assume she’s heard the sounds of your footsteps.

“Uh, I’m on my way to the apartment.”

“Wait, you’re walking to the apartment? Alone?!”

“Hey, I can handle myself,” you chuckle. “I am an Avenger, remember? Besides, I’m only a couple of blocks away.”

“Oh yeah?” Her voices lilts slightly. “Why are you even walking the streets at night, anyway?”

“How do you know it’s nighttime? Doesn’t everywhere look like night in space?” You can’t help but tease and Carol laughs.

“Well, is it nighttime?”

“…Yes,” you admit. “But that’s nothing more than a lucky guess.”

“Uh huh,” Carol replies, and you can hear her smirk through the phone again. The things you would do to see that smirk in person at this moment…

“Anyway,” you interrupt your own train of thought. “I was with everyone up until a few minutes ago. We were out looking at lights.”

“Lights? What kind of lights are so special that you’ve gotta go out in a group to go look at them?”

You’re left dumbstruck for a moment. She surely hasn’t forgotten what time of year it is, has she? You’d only reminded her about a month ago, and she knows how much you love the holiday. You assumed she would have remembered.

“We were looking at Christmas lights,” you clarify.

“Oh. Well now it makes sense,” you laughs. “Isn’t it a little too soon to be looking at Christmas lights, though?”

You’re hit with the fact that she’s actually forgotten what time of year it is. You try to shake off the sudden disappointment, though you’re a little too aware that if she has forgotten the date then she likely hasn’t begun her journey back to Earth just yet either. Which means another Carol-less Christmas for you once more.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” you eventually mutter into the phone.

“It is?” She sounds vaguely surprised at your clarification. “Huh. I guess it’s pretty easy to lose track of time up here.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

“So you’re heading back to the apartment?” She continues on as if you hadn’t just revealed to her that your favourite holiday is mere hours away. You can’t exactly be mad at her, though. As she said, it’s easy to lose track of time while she’s doing important work up in space. “Why not HQ with everyone else?”

“I just felt like being home, I guess,” you explain. “I wasn’t in the Christmas spirit and we were pretty close to the apartment, so I decided to head home early.”

You hear Carol hum in acknowledgement as you use your keycard to get into your apartment building. You start up the flight of stairs leading to your apartment.

“So, when do you think you’ll be back?” You can’t help but ask. Realistically, you have known for weeks that Carol likely wouldn’t make it back in time for Christmas. Though, with Christmas Day only a few hours away, and your short-lived hopes of her returning any day now, the disappointment of her not being here is fresh once again.

“Soon,” Carol says vaguely and you frown.

“Soon? That could mean anything,” you complain. “Don’t you have at least some idea of when you’ll be back?” You can’t help the slight bite to your tone, the frustration of everything seemingly growing by the minute.

You fumble with your keys, your current conversation leaving you preoccupied enough to struggle with the basic task of locating the correct key on your keychain to grant you entrance into your apartment.

“I don’t know, babe,” you hear Carol say and you finally unlock the door, pushing it open and walking into your apartment, slamming the door shut behind you. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Her voice sounds suddenly different, louder, and you twist around on the spot until you’re facing your living room.

You gasp when you see her. Carol is standing beside your Christmas tree. Her eyes are on you and she still has her phone pressed to her ear. The only thing that rivals the bright lights of the tree is her wide grin, bright enough to light up the room all on its own.

Your wide eyes refuse to blink as you look back at her. You’re suddenly all out of words.

You watch as Carol takes one step closer, and then another, until she’s closing the distance between the two of you. The closer she gets to you, the softer her smile grows.

“You’re here,” you whisper into your phone. Carol lowers her own phone, coming to a stop directly in front of you.

“I’m here,” she returns, her own voice barely above a whisper too.

“Hi,” you say dumbly and Carol smiles adoringly at you. She gently takes your phone from your hand and drops it down onto your couch along with her own.

“Hi.”

Before you know what you’re doing, you abruptly tackle her in a tight hug. If she weren’t Captain Marvel you might have been worried about her balance, but she remains steady, wrapping you up in her strong arms.

Without even realising it, tears are spilling out of your eyes and running down your cheeks, and you let out a deep breath you weren’t even aware you were holding, pressing your face into Carol’s neck and breathing in her scent. You feel the lightest you’ve felt in months.

Carol hears your sniffling and takes a step back to look at you. She keeps ahold of your sides.

“You okay?”

“Are you kidding?” You choke out a laugh amidst your tears. “I’m more than okay, Carol. What are you even doing here?”

You still can’t believe your eyes. You can’t believe that the love of your life is standing right in front of you when only moments ago you still believed that she was in outer space.

“What, you really thought I’d let you spend another Christmas without me? It’s your favourite holiday, you know?” She lets go of her hold on your left side to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “You know how much it killed me having to miss the last two Christmases with you.”

You shake your head in disbelief, completely in awe of the woman in front of you.

“I love you so much, Carol.”

“I love you too.” She barely has time to get the words out before your mouth is pressed against hers in a kiss that’s long overdue. You only pull back for a moment when your smile literally grows too big to continue kissing Carol. You both break into laughter, giddy at the joy of finally being together again.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” You say the words that repeat over and over in your mind. Carol’s intense gaze regards you and she smiles at you sweetly.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Carol,” you reply before your lips are meeting hers again.

————————

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of Christmas carols playing from the living room and the smell of fresh coffee drifting in through your open bedroom door. You can hear Carol softly singing along to the music, and you smile sleepily.

Nat was right. You’ve never been more glad to wake up to the sounds of your apartment than you are right now.

#carol danvers imagine #captain marvel imagine #brie larson imagine #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel x reader #brie larson x reader #mcu imagine #carol danvers #captain marvel #avengers #mcu #mine #fic

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 1. Back Into The Field

Intro: Picking up a few months on from the events of Stark Spangled Man, Katie finds herself on desk bound duty following a disciplinary for ignoring Fury’s orders. But when she’s finally released, and disaster strikes on the first mission she’s run in months, she kinda wishes she’d stayed there.

Warnings: Bad language, mentions of blood, injury, angst and a minor character death.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Katie Stark

A/N: So here we go. A relaunch of SSB thanks to my other blog being flagged. For those of you who are new, welcome! I hope you enjoy. And to all you current Stark Spangled Readers, welcome back, You might spot a few subtle differences as we go through, as things I’m not happy with have been rewritten but don’t worry, nothing will impact the mine lines in the hot mess that is Stark and Rogers.

As always, please leave your comments or send me messages, asks, anything. I love you all!

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.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

March 2013.

Any doctor would cry if they visited SHIELD; the caffeine and alcohol intake of pretty much every worker there would way exceed a dose construed to be healthy. Mind you, if you asked any agent whether they’d give up coffee or alcohol, they’d say alcohol in a heartbeat.

Well, most of them.

Katie couldn’t imagine surviving without an ice cold beer on a hot summer’s day, but she also didn’t function until she had her morning cup of Joe. It was a tough choice to make.

Not today though, she needed coffee. And lots of it. After ‘going rogue’ to chase the Mandarin with her brother, month’s later Fury was still pissed and as such was basically giving her the most boring thing he could think of- working through piles of mission reports to analyse and cross reference with others to pick up on common threads .To be honest, she didn’t mind it too much. After the excitement of the festive period she had welcomed a relatively quiet return to work, and didn’t particularly give a shit what Fury thought about her either.

She circling a part of the hard copy of the report she was working on with highlighter pen, before glancing back at her computer screen to cut and paste it into the Scrapbook App she used to trace trends with, letting out a groan. Who was she kidding? Desk duty sucked ass.

*****

Steve’s morning wasn’t going much better.

Whilst he wasn’t desk bound, after a particularly gruelling Ops Training session during which one of the newest kids suffered a broken nose after colliding painfully with a stray shock baton, he was almost wishing he was. Following a quick debrief, he checked his schedule on his phone and found he was free now for the rest of the day so he showered and headed up to find Katie. He found her in her office, paper in her hand as she stared at her computer screen, eyes narrowed. Steve watched her for a moment, taking in the way her nose crinkled as she read something, her bottom lip being dragged under her top teeth as she continued her work, completely unaware he was there. With a groan she dropped the notes she’d been holding to the desk and ran her hand through her dark hair.

Steve felt he was interrupting something, even though he knew he wasn’t, but he also didn’t want to appear like he’d been watching her either, which he totally had. So he gave a little cough and, as she turned round, her pretty face cracking into a smile which he returned.

“Hey! How was training?”

“Don’t ask.” He let out a snort.

“That bad huh?”

“In a fashion.” He nodded, leaning on the door frame. “You had lunch?”

“Nope.”

“Wanna come get some?”

She nodded instantly “God yes. Can we get FroYo after?”

“Yeah but don’t let me pile it with all that crap this time!” he shot her his best playfully disapproving look as he remembered his first trip the Frozen Yoghurt stall. He had loaded his with all sorts of different things and the result had been beyond foul.

Katie gave a laugh and picked up her jacket, shrugging it on. Standing up straight, he moved to allow her to step through the door and followed her to the elevator.

“Stick to chocolate chip, mint and cookie dough.” She said, stepping into it. “Trust me.”

They strode across the foyer and into the early spring sun. Katie pulled her jacket tighter around herself as they crossed the street, shivering a little in the cool breeze.

“How are you just wearing a shirt?” she looked at Steve as he fell into step besides her, making sure he was on the side nearest the road. He noticed that she’d long since given up chiding him on this old fashioned habit after he had revealed it was something he used to do for his mom too, and Bucky’s younger sister. In fact, today, he swore he saw something that looked like a soft smile flicker on her lips when he positioned himself on her left, but as quick as he noticed it, it was gone.

“It’s not too bad.” He grinned. “I’ve been through worse.” He opened the door to the Deli for her and followed her in as they took their place in the queue. After a moment or two he became aware that she was looking at him.

“What?” he asked, turning to her exasperatedly. Katie couldn’t help but grin, she enjoyed winding the usually mild mannered man up

“I’m trying to imagine how you would look with a beard. And with shorter hair.” she mused, causing the Captain to roll his eyes.

“Not gonna happen.”

“What the hair cut or the beard?”

“Neither.”

“Spoil sport.”

“Captain America doesn’t have a beard.” he shook his head.

“No but, Steve Rogers could…”

She was impossible, but Steve couldn’t help but want to laugh. This playfulness was the thing that he enjoyed the most, how she could just treat him like any other punk she knew.

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re exhausting?” he rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his face as she stepped forward in the queue.

“Yeah, you.” she spun round to face him, grinning “Several times. But you still come back for more.”

“Well I have the distinct impression if I didn’t you’d hunt me down anyway”

They ordered and ate their lunch, Steve filling her in on the ops drill and after Fro-Yo they made arrangements to slob out that evening at his with a film. They walked back to the Triskellion where Katie headed back to her office to continue sifting through the Mount Everest of reports she had to do. As with anything, once she got the bit between her teeth, she completely zoned out. It was only when she heard a gabble of voices all bidding each other goodbye that she looked up from her work. It was dark outside, and past six.

“Shit.” she groaned as the realisation washed over her. She was supposed to be at Steve’s for half past. She clicked to save her work whilst calling him at the same time, phone sandwiched between her cheek and shoulder.

“So…I’m running late.” She apologised the instant he answered. He chuckled.

“I thought that you said the one good thing about being confined to desk duties was that you set the hours.”

“Yeah, well I got caught up in something, but I’m leaving now. Do you want me to grab pizza on the way?”

“Sounds good, not Chicago Style though. I’m hankering for a proper piece of pie.”

“God you’re such a New Yorker.” She rolled her eyes.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” His voice took on a mock hurt tone and she could imagine him pouting on the other end of the phone.

“Hmmm, I’m undecided. Right, I’m leaving now. See you soon.”

“Drive safe.”

“What are you my dad?” she snorted at his stern instruction.

“Old enough to be.” he shot back.

“Touche.” she sniggered, cutting the call

*******

“Boring New York style for Mr S Rogers…” she spoke into the intercom at the main door to Steve’s apartment complex and he buzzed her in. By the time she’d climbed the stairs to his floor he was waiting, leaning on the door frame.

“Bout time.” He muttered, taking the boxes off her “Was about to send a search party.”

“Mario’s was packed.” Katie said, kicking off her sneakers and heading straight through to his kitchen to grab a beer out of his fridge without waiting for him to offer, knowing he wouldn’t. He didn’t need to.

Steve headed into the living room, depositing the thee boxes on the coffee table before he sank onto the couch and reached straight in for one of the pepperoni slices. A few moments later Katie flopped down next to him, handing him a beer.

“What we ticking off the list tonight?” she asked.

“A Few Good Men.” he said, nodding at the TV where he had queued the movie up ready.

“Wait, did you manage to navigate that Android box all by yourself?” She looked at him and he sighed.

“I’m not completely useless ya know.”

“Jury’s out.” she teased, curling her legs up onto the sofa next to her.

They watched the movie. Steve got most of the references within it. He chuckled in the right places, and laughed out loud when Katie was unable to stop herself uttering the immortal line You can’t handle the truth. When the credits began to roll, Katie unfolded herself from where she had been sat and they launched into Steve’s favourite part of Movie Nights- the post film analysis.

“Who was the guy who played the colonel, Jessup?” he looked at her.

“Jack Nicholson. Amazing actor. He’s in a few on your list.”

“He was good. And I know he was supposed to be the good guy so to speak but Kaffee annoyed me a little. He was so arrogant.”

“He reminds me of Tony” Katie sniggered.

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything” Steve gave a little smirk and Katie shrugged.

“I get what you mean though. He is an ass, and it pisses me off a little the romance angle they take with him and Galloway. I mean, she’s portrayed as this strong woman, in the male dominated military woman and they still have to go there.”

“It does seem to be a tried and tested format.” Steve nodded, leaning back against the cushions on his couch “Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, boy wins girl over…even the movies I saw back in before I took a sub-zero nap were the same.”

“I suppose it appeals to the hopeless romantic in all of us.” Katie shrugged.

They continued to chat for a bit longer until Katie glanced at her watch, and seeing the time, decided to call it a night. Steve walked her down to her car, he always did without fail, another thing she had given up chiding him for and when he came back upstairs and got in the shower, he found himself straying back to the first time he had seen her, the minute she had stepped into the light in the boxing gym and he’d found himself looking into the greenest eyes he had ever seen in his life.

The more he stood there in the stream of hot water, thinking about her, the more he started to feel something…well…different. And he couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it that he found her attractive? Well of course he did. To be honest, he reckoned you’d have to be blind not to. And if he was totally honest, since he’d seen her the first time in that little boxing gym in New York he had noticed how pretty she was. She had the figure of the stars of his time. Hour glass waist, brunette hair, shapely ass and legs and quite large breasts considering she was so slim. But what did it for him were her eyes. Deep, sparkling emeralds that he could lose himself in quite happily. And that smile, that fucking smile that could make him stop in his tracks when she flashed it.

But it was more than just that, she was…well…just Katie.

It was strange, really, she reminded him so much of Peggy in some ways, but in others she was so different. Both were vivacious, smart, strong willed and beautiful. But where Peggy had been harsh, after a military upbringing, Katie had a softer edge to her. She was still ferocious at times, but she was a people person, and somehow knew exactly how to explain and understand what he was trying to say even when he struggled to himself. She made him feel at ease. With that in mind it wasn’t surprising they had grown so close. He could trust her and knew that she would do anything for him because she was a good person. And she made it so easy to be around, he didn’t feel a shred of awkwardness around her.

He hadn’t thought he’d ever find himself a friend he could be as honest and open with again, one he would happily lay his life on the line for, not just out of a sense of duty but out of a sense of love and friendship.

Who you trying to kid, Rogers?

He knew his feelings went deeper than that. All those times he’d felt irritation at other men looking at her or touching her, all those times he’d looked at her and just wanted to smile because she was just her… the fear he had felt when he had known she was off chasing the Mandarin and he wasn’t able to help…none of that was anything to do with mere friendship.

He leaned his forehead against the tiles of the shower cubicle and groaned. He was crushing on his best friend.

He was so fucked. *******

Katie’s desk arrest didn’t last much longer. Two weeks later she was catapulted back into the field, on what was supposed to be a simple op, simple by SHIELD standards, anyway. They had a request from the Cuban government – all very hush, hush, of course –to take down a drug lord who ran a cartel SHIELD had tangled with last year.

Katie, in her role as Mission Analyst, read the files and all the intel, pulled together a briefing and delivered it, answering questions that came her way from the team and then handed over to Steve when it was his turn to take the floor. He started issuing out his orders, and informed everyone that the three newest recruits would be joining them as it would be a fairly straight forward op to ease them into.

And it had been, for the most part, until one of those new recruits, Jack Adams, had frozen mid fire fight and as a consequence he’d taken three bullets to the chest. Which shouldn’t have been an issue given the armour they all wore. But when the man failed to get up, Katie knew there was something very, very wrong.

“Adams is down!” she loudly spoke into her radio as she took aim at the hostile responsible. As soon as she was sure the round she had let off had hit her target, she broke cover to get to Adams, as she was closest to him. She skidded to the floor, pressing her hand to his chest and her other reached to his face, turning it to look at her.

“I got you, Adams, look at me.” she urged gently, her hand warm, wet and slick with the young man’s blood. Steve dropped besides her and she turned to face him.

“Armour piercing rounds.” She shook her head. “Steve, I can’t stop the bleeding.” Her tone left the Captain in no doubt as to how worried she was and he looked around frantically for help.

“Medic, NOW! We need emergency evac…”

“Stay with us, Jack.” Katie reached into her belt and retrieved a tab of morphine as he young man’s hand gripped her other whilst she administered the pain relief.

“Son, you’re gonna be fine.” Steve spoke and Adams’ horrified eyes turned to Steve. The soldier swallowed, fighting to keep his face calm. He’d seen that expression so many times on the battle field, the one that told him the man who lay injured knew he was injured beyond repair, that there was nothing to be done for him. But this was now seventy years into the future, medical science had worked so many wonders since then, they had to be able to do something, right?

“RUMLOW WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT MEDIC?” Katie screamed, her tone frantic.

“Still got hostiles on us!” Rumlow replied over the coms. “Evans has taken four down but they’re approaching from the right! We need to cover the medics in and now you’re down there…”

Steve instantly looked round before he looked back at Katie “We’ll have to take him ourselves”

She bit her lip, looking at the young man, then up to Steve again. Everything in their training told them not to move casualties, but Steve knew if they stayed here he was going to bleed out. Katie seemed to come to the same conclusion and she nodded.

“Alright. Brock, we’re coming to you. Have the medics prep the bay on the jet.. Evans, we need top cover.”

“Roger, Cap…”

“Jack, we’re gonna move you now.” Katie looked at him, her voice calm and level as besides her, Steve moved to take the injured man into a lift over his shoulder. Once he had him positioned, he gave a small jerk of his head and Katie picked up his shield in one hand, and her pistol in the other as they broke cover, sprinting across the front of the industrial yard towards the jet. In the corner of his eye, Steve spotted two hostiles moving but before he could shout a warning, Katie had fired off two shots, the thumps and lack of returning fire meaning each bullet had hit its target. Soon they were joined by Rumlow and Rollins who flanked them up the ramp where Katie dropped Steve’s shield to the floor with a clang and offered her hand back to Adams as Steve placed him gently on the stretcher.

“It’s gonna be ok.” Katie soothed him as the medics bustled around, her eyes glancing up every so often to watch what they were doing.

“Can you tell my mom I love her and, and my dad.” Adams was mumbling now and Katie shook her head.

“You can tell them yourself.” She told him fiercely. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“We’re locked down outside, local authorities are handling it now.” Rumlow informed Steve who had stepped back from where Katie was knelt by the injured man. “How is he?”

Steve turned to Rumlow, shaking his head sadly. “Not good. He lost a lot of blood.”

At that point Katie suddenly drew back slightly, looking at the hand held in hers, before she glanced at the medic who was sadly shaking his head. Katie’s shoulders slumped as her eyes closed, face screwing up into a pained expression and Steve pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger as he realised that the young man had lost his final fight.

“Shit.” Rumlow muttered.

“Radio base” Steve turned to Rumlow his voice soft “Let’s get him home.”

*******

Writing mission reports wasn’t Katie’s favourite thing to do, but this one was awful. So she’d treated it like ripping off a band aid, and after a horrific night’s sleep, she’d been at the Triskelion early to get it done. As a result it was little after ten am, she was done for the day and was about to head home until she heard a familiar voice.

“Eat me…eat me…” The voice was accompanied by a bag from her favourite bakery, which was hovering in the space between the door to the office and the frame, before Clint Barton’s head poked round the side, a grin plastered on his face.

“Hey!” She beamed at her friend as he dropped a cup holder containing two coffees and the bag onto her desk before taking a seat, scooting the wheeled chair over the floor towards her.

“Heard you had a rough time of it yesterday so I brought donuts and almond croissants. And coffee.”

“Hawkeye, you are a godsend.” Katie smiled, taking a large drink and leaning back, closing her eyes.

“That the first time you’ve lost a man on a mission?” Clint asked.

“Other than Coulson.” she shrugged. “Shit, Adams was twenty-three Clint. He had his whole life ahead of him.”

Clint watched as she rubbed at her temple before reaching into the bag and pulling out an almond croissant. She couldn’t remember when she had last eaten, it must have at least been before the mission.

“How’s Cap taken it?”

“On the outside he seems okay, but I know he blames himself. Keeps saying he shouldn’t have taken him.” Katie shrugged “He’s gone with Fury to see Adams’ parents. Rather him than me.”

“This job is hard.” Clint said after a moment or two pause. “We fight to keep everyone safe, but y’know, sometimes not everyone makes it. Thing is, if we can’t find a way to deal with that, then maybe next time no one gets saved at all.”

“You mean like Collateral damage?” she snorted, shaking her head.

“No, I mean that everyone one of us that are out in the field know the risks Nova, hell last year 7 of us took on a horde of Aliens in New York. For hours we fought them, and did any of us give a second thought to our own safety? No, because that’s what we do.”

His words made sense. She knew they did, but that didn’t stop the feeling in her stomach that if she had done her research more, maybe she could have spotted something that would have told them about the armour piercing rounds.

*******

Adams’ parents already knew he was dead. Fury had the local authorities call ahead, common practice now, but still, Steve found himself sat on their couch, talking, informing them all about their son’s last moments. They hadn’t shouted, hadn’t screamed or blamed him. Instead, they’d thanked him for what he had done and for bringing him back so they could hold a proper burial.

By the time he got back to base, he was exhausted.

“Here.” Fury handed him a glass of scotch from the bottle he had pulled out of his desk. Steve took it, dropping onto one of the sofas at the side of the large office, Fury settling into the other. Steve knew the drink couldn’t get him drunk, but he liked the momentary buzz he got that lasted all of sixty seconds post sip, and the comforting burn it gave when he swallowed.

The pair of them sat in silence for a few moments before Fury sat forward, his eye fixed on Steve.

“Ever done that before, a death message?” he asked.

“Can’t say I have. Wasn’t really my job back in the day.” Steve shrugged, undoing his tie and popping the top button of his dress shirt.

“Worst part of the job. Doesn’t matter how many times you do it, never gets any easier.” Fury ran his hand over his face, and it struck Steve how tired his boss actually looked.

“Yeah, it isn’t exactly up there with my favourite thing to do.” Steve rolled his tie up and shoved it into the pocket of his old Army uniform pants.

“How’s Nova?” Fury asked.

“She’s upset.” Steve sighed “But she’s strong, she’ll be okay. I’m gonna head over and see how she is later.”

“You two spend a lot of time together outside of work.” Fury commented, innocently enough but there was something in his tone, something that was almost good natured accusation.

“Not a problem is it, Sir?” Steve asked, keeping his face straight.

“No, not at all.” Fury said “Why do you think I partnered you up in the first place? She’s a people person…”

“She’s a good friend.” Steve nodded “We get on.”

“Glad to hear it.” Fury nodded. There was another moment’s pause before he spoke again. “There’s going to be a debrief with the Secretary of Defense tomorrow.”

Steve sighed “If they’re looking to blame someone, the buck stops with me. I should never have taken the kid.”

“Bullshit.” Fury said simply “I’ve read the reports. From what they say, he just froze.”

“He wasn’t experienced enough.”

“Taking risks is part of this job. It’s a dangerous gig.” Fury held his gaze. “It was a straight forward in and out job Captain. What happened was an accident. A tragic one, but an accident none the less. From the reports, neither you nor Stark could have done any more to save his life.”

Steve shrugged, the words were kind but didn’t help him feel any better.

Three glasses of scotch later, Steve shook the director’s hand and left the office, pulling out his phone. He didn’t want to appear like he was checking up on Katie, so he pinged her a text, dressing it up like it was him who needed to see her, which wasn’t a complete lie. He did. He was craving the normality she gave him.

Can I come over? I could do with seeing a friendly face

He read it a few times, before deciding it was casual enough before he sent it. The reply was almost instantaneous.

My door is always open for you. And I made Mac and Cheese. Plenty left.

He couldn’t help but smile. One of the best things about this new life was the food, and her Mac and Cheese was frankly his favourite thing to eat on the planet.

He changed into a pair of sweats and a hoody, hastily making his way to Katie’s penthouse and the smile she gave him when he walked into her place instantly made him feel at ease.

“Hey.” she crossed the space towards him and gave him a hug which he happily melted into, a hug they both needed.

“How did it go?” she asked, pulling away.

“As well as can be expected.” He sighed as he followed her into the kitchen, dropping into the stool on the other side of the breakfast bar. “His mom broke down but they didn’t shout or yell.”

Katie flipped the lid off a beer and handed it to him. He took it, with a nod of thanks and pulled a large swig before he rest his hands on the counter, staring at the bottle.

He was brooding and blaming himself, Katie could tell, so she gently lay her hand on his, reaching over the counter.

“It wasn’t your fault Steve.” she spoke softly and he looked at her.

God, she did that all the time, knew what he was thinking. It gave him the unnerving impression that sometimes she could read his mind.

“I should have spotted that shooter.” he shook his head.

“I’m the fucking mission analyst.” she sighed. “I knew from last time those guys were packing, if I’d done more research, maybe I would have found out about the armour piercing rounds.”

“You can’t seriously blame yourself?” Steve’s frowned.

“Why not?” she shrugged sadly. She’d been over it a million times in her head that day and had come to the same conclusion every time. She should have spotted something, dug further. “I didn’t do my job.”

“Yes, you did.” he implored, his eyes locking onto hers “Your report clearly set out the layout, the learning from previous missions…Adams was just too inexperienced, I should never have taken him.”

There was a pause as the microwave pinged and Katie turned to look at it.

“You know, Clint made a good point before.” she reached in for the plate and the smell of the food made his stomach grumble again as she continued “This job, it’s hard. We fight to keep people safe but not everyone makes it back all the time…and if we can’t learn to live with that then maybe next time no one gets saved.”

“It feels like trading lives.” He took a deep breath as she placed the plate down in front of him “It’s just wrong.”

“I know.” She said, handing him some cutlery and sat down next to him.

“You eaten?” he asked, looking at her, suddenly aware she didn’t have a plate. She nodded.

“Couldn’t have waited until now, I’d have starved to death.” she said, shrugging.

“Hardly.” he replied, mouth full, instantly realising he had said the wrong thing as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Is that a fat joke?” she asked, making him roll his eyes as he swallowed. That hadn’t been it at all, he was referring to the fact that she never actually stopped eating, despite her tiny frame she gave him a run for his money.

“No, that’s not what I meant. You’re tiny.” he said, almost choking on his food through his protests.

“So now you’re making short jokes?” She shot back. Steve looked at her, dismayed she thought he was being mean to her but then he spotted the look in her eyes and rolled his own.

“Punk.”

“Jerk” she shot back.

It was the perfect way to escape the trauma and stress of the last few days. Once they had finished eating the two of them flopped down on her large L shape sofa, Steve’s legs extended along one side of the L shape, her legs tucked underneath her as she leaned against his shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice the smell of her shampoo…apple, he thought, along with her perfume. Her proximity was making his head buzz but he wasn’t about to move her, the contact was comforting. And it clearly was for her too as about an hour or so into the film- the first in the Lord of The Rings trilogy- he felt her head growing heavy. He glanced down and saw that her eyes were closed and, as he watched, her head slipped slightly. He shifted so that he could catch her gently, and grabbed a cushion from behind him, placing it against his leg. He manoeuvred her head so that she was lay down, gently brushing her hair off her face. She stirred slightly, snuggling down further into the cushion as he absentmindedly rubbed between her shoulder blades as her breathing grew gentle and even.

Steve stayed like that, engrossed in the film right to the end, surprisingly. He had enjoyed it. Katie hadn’t woken up, and he looked down debating whether or not to wake her or simply carry her through to her bedroom. In the end he decided to do neither, instead he reached for the remote as he sifted through to find something else to watch. He didn’t want to leave just yet, he was too comfy and too at ease. Picking one of his favourites, Casablanca, he settled down, getting himself comfy as he immersed himself in the familiar world of Rick’s Café Americain. At one point he felt his eyes growing heavy and he lay his head back, deciding to rest them for just a little while…

**** Katie was jolted awake, quite violently, and as she jerked into an upright position she saw exactly why. Steve was thrashing in his sleep, his face contorted in horror, small murmurs and whimpers slipping from his plump lips. She placed both her hands on his shoulder and shook him. Softly at first, then a bit stronger, trying to rouse him.

“Steve…” she gave him a harsher shake and his eyes flew open, wide in panic and she reached up to cup his face in her hands. “Hey, it’s okay. It was just a dream.”

Her soft voice filled Steve’s senses and, as he realised where he was and whose eyes were looking at him, he took a shaky breath and lay his head back.

Damned it, he’d fallen asleep and had a nightmare. On her sofa.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice croaky, “I err…”

“Don’t apologise, it’s fine.” Katie shook her head gently “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Whilst she was gone he leaned forward, swinging his legs off the couch so his feet touched the floor, wiping his clammy head with his hands, the memory still flashing through his dream.

Cold air was blasting his hair back…there was a hole in the side of the train…then a flash of light and Bucky flew straight through the hole. “BUCKY…” he yelled, grabbing onto the side of the train, the bar in one hand as he stretched to reach his friend with the other.

“Steve…” The voice was louder, but not loud enough. No, he had to get to Bucky…

But he was gone, Steve was grasping at nothing but air.

Just a dream, Katie had said. It was anything but…

She appeared back in the room with a glass of water and he thanked her as she passed it to him. He took a large gulp, swallowing and was relieved when his breathing began returning to normal.

“You ok?” she asked, kindly as her hand gently knotted into his, her concern evident.

“Yeah, just a nightmare.” he nodded softly “I’ve not had one for a while.”

“Understandable with what’s happened. Wanna tell me what it was about?”

“It was Bucky.” he swallowed thickly “I was replaying the moment he fell. The moment he plummeted to his death from that Hydra train and I didn’t save him.”

Katie stayed silent for a moment before her hand curled round Steve’s shoulder and she pulled him to her, causing him to lay his head on her shoulder. “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have done more” The guilt ate Steve up every day, that he had survived. Why had he deserved that any more than Bucky?

“How?” she said again. “How could you have done anymore?”

"I should have gone after him.” he said quietly.

“What would’ve changed if you had?” Katie asked. “There’s no way he could have survived that fall.”

“He wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.“ He replied, "I should have gone after him, brought him home, done something.”

Katie remained quiet, her hand gently running through his hair which was nice, far too nice. He took a deep breath and sat up moving away from her touch.

"What time is it?”

“Nearly six in the morning” Katie glanced at her watch.

“You’re kidding?” Steve snorted.

“Nope. You want some coffee?” she stood up, stretching her arms above her head.

“Yeah if that’s ok.” he replied, following her to the kitchen. From her body language he could tell she was rolling her eyes, even if she wasn’t facing him.

“I don’t know if your Ma ever told you, but it’s rude to run out on a girl after you spend the night with her.”

“And as you know, I’m useless with women.” he sat down at the barstool on the breakfast bar. He watched her, but he didn’t say anything as she bustled about, throwing some bread in the toaster and then went to the fridge for the butter, marmalade and jam, sliding them onto the island. At that point Steve held his hands up.

“You don’t have to-” he started to say, but she silenced him with a glare, similar to the ones Peggy used to give him, the look that could stop him in his tracks it was that stern.

“Shut up.” she poured them both a cup of the coffee before adding milk and a spoon of sugar to each, passing one to him. The bread popped up from the toaster, and she put it on a plate before sliding it over to him and adding more bread to the machine.

His stomach rumbled and he gave in, smearing butter over his toast. He eyed the jam curiously. He’d had marmalade before but…

He looked at Katie and she nodded. “It’s good.”

So he added some, and after a bite he concluded she was right, and nodded in agreement. Once the next round of toast was done she sat next to him.

“So, when did I fall asleep.” she asked, swallowing her food.

“About an hour into the film.”

She shook her head “What an ass…”

“It wasn’t a problem.” He replied honestly as he took a bite of his breakfast. “To be honest I enjoyed it.”

“What, me drooling on your leg?”

He swallowed, his eyes wide “I meant the film.”

“I know.” she smirked.

***** Chapter 2

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #relaunch #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #katie stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character

142 notes · View notes

tchallasbabymama · 3 years

Text

all of your love

Hey y’all! Here’s Chapter 4 of my Playlist series. Make sure you catch up on the series (and check out my other stuff) by checking out my masterlist HERE.

Let me know what y’all think!

This one is nasty (18+ as always), enjoy!

Word count: 6,195

T’Challa woke up Tuesday morning eager as a kid on Christmas. Every second that went by brought him closer to Ashanti and he couldn’t wait any longer, his excited nerves building to critical mass within him. Natasha and Wanda had noticed his constant texting and smiling at his beads, and worked hard the entire time he was there to get the truth out of him about who he was talking to. They tried asking Okoye, but she was a steel trap so the two of them cornered him in the living room just before his departure. Their suspicions were confirmed when he proudly pulled up a picture of her to show them.

“Damn she fine, who is that?” Sam sauntered into the room as T’Challa quickly shut the projection down and cleared his throat.

“She is none of your concern.”

“His girlfriend,” Natasha said at the same time before smirking into her cup of coffee. T’Challa looked at her in disbelief and she shrugged back at him in response. “Oh please, he would’ve found out eventually.”

The king rolled his eyes and left the room in a huff to go pack his things.

“He’s so pissy today,” Natasha said, a smirk still firmly planted on her face.

“He misses her, it’s adorable,” Wanda responded.

“Shit, I would too. Y’all saw her.”

T’Challa swept back in the room, bags in hand, calling to Okoye on his beads.

“General, are you ready to go?”

“Ewe kumkani wam, be down in a moment.”

Cap rounded the corner and picked up on T’Challa’s anxious energy. He turned to look at the other faces and a smile crept up his before he turned to his friend.

“Ready to get back to Ashanti, huh?”

A chorus of “Ashanti?!” broke out.

“Why’d he get to know her name and we didn't?” Wanda asked incredulously.

“I was getting there but the bird interrupted,” T’Challa said with a shrug, referring to Sam who rolled his eyes and waved goodbye to the king before leaving the room.

“Hey, uh, can I talk to you for a second before you go?”

“Of course Steve, what is it?”

The two of them ducked off into the hallway for privacy.

“How is he?” Steve asked of his friend.

“He is responding to treatment really well, you should come see him sometime. Shuri has removed most of the words, and living with the Border tribe seems to be good for his mental state.”

Steve smiled from ear to ear. Hearing about Bucky’s progress warmed his heart and he seriously considered hopping on the jet with T’Challa right then and there.

“How about next week sometime? I have some things I need to finish up here, but I’d love to come see him. And see Wakanda properly this time.”

The two heroes shook hands and returned to the living room. At that moment Vision floated up through the floor and Okoye rounded the corner.

“I will never get used to that.”

“My apologies, general.”

“Apology accepted. My king?”

“Yes, we should get going. I will see you all again, hopefully not too soon.”

They said their goodbyes as the two Wakandans made their way to the Royal Talon Fighter to head home. Once Okoye had them in the air, T’Challa retired to one of the jet’s two bedrooms to change into sweatpants and a t-shirt and take a nap on the plush Wakandan mattress he missed so much. He was out like a light.

“My king, we are home,” Okoye lightly shook T’Challa awake. He got up and changed back into his clothes before exiting the ship. The entire royal family was there to greet him, much to his surprise. He greeted his mother and sister before landing on his cousin.

“Umzala, I thought you were heading to Oakland,” he said as they dapped each other up.

“I’m about to head out now, just figured I’d wait a few and say hey to my favorite cousin.”

“You said I was your favorite cousin!” Shuri butted in.

“Hush, Dr. Frankenstein,” N’Jadaka remarked back at her. Shuri was shocked, but her face quickly morphed into amusement as a laugh erupted from her lips.

“If I’m Dr Frankenstein you just called yourself the monster,” Shuri cackled as she walked away, most likely going back to her lab to tinker with the laws of physics or something simple like that.

“Welcome home son,” Ramonda lightly pushed her nephew aside. “How are the Avengers?”

T’Challa rolled his eyes at their incompetence and inability to work as a fluid team.

“Inept, mama. The captain might be visiting soon though,” he said with an eyebrow raise, knowing his mother had a little crush on Captain America.

“Oh, will he? I’ll have to be sure to spend some one on one time with the captain while he’s here.”

“Ew, Auntie.”

“Mama, please stop.”

“What? I still got it!” Ramonda turned and walked back towards the palace.

The cousins just looked at eachother and shuddered before N’Jadaka took off in the same jet T’Challa just arrived on.

The next morning, T’Challa woke up later than most days. When he returns from a mission he likes to keep his workload light the following day, so he caught up on more of the sleep he had been missing out on. The very first thing he did after waking up was send Ashanti a “good morning beautiful” text, and before his feet even hit the floor she had responded.

Ashanti: Good morning handsome. How did you sleep?

T: Much better in my own bed, but still not as good as when you were in my arms.

A: Don’t make me blush.

T: But it’s so cute when you do.

T’Challa dragged himself out of bed and straight to his shower, turning on the hot water and turning his jungle bathroom into a sauna.

“Kim, shuffle between my recently played songs.” He called out to the AI housed in his beads and around his quarters.

“Now playing ‘all of your love’ by Luke James,” the smooth automated voice rang out. A smile spread across his face as he remembered his picnic with Ashanti by the lake. They tapped beads and made a joint playlist, this album being one of Ashanti’s favorites. He had listened to it multiple times while he was away, missing her with every note.

You got the kinda loving

That'll break a motherfucker's knees, baby

Got me begging, got me craving

I just wanna get a squeeze, baby

Don't leave me 'lone

Leave me 'lone, leave me 'lone

Leave me 'lone, leave me 'lone right here

I want it all

Want it all, want it all

Want it all, want it all, my dear

All of your love

(Give it all to me baby, yeah)

All of your love, yeah

(It's for me it's for you, baby)

All of your love

(I need it)

Give me all of your love (ooh)

He stepped under the faux rainfall and let it wash over his body, lathering up with some mango scented black soap. After his perfectly sculpted body was clean he turned off the water and air dried while covering his smooth brown skin in cocoa butter.

The king was looking forward to his day for two reasons: he would get to spend time with his little sister during the day and then Ashanti at night. For his first major stop of the day, he and Shuri went to the mines to check on the progress of the latest excavation efforts. The mining tribe elder K’Hari was intent on setting T’Challa up with his daughter Tamala, so they quickly made their escape to Shuri’s lab where they spent the rest of the day playfully bickering over who makes better gadgets while testing out some of Shuri’s latest inventions. T’Challa knew he would not win the argument, but enjoyed annoying his little sister.

Around lunchtime T’Challa made his way back to the palace to eat with Ramonda in her garden. She wasted no time cutting to the chase.

“So this Ashanti, you have feelings for her?”

T’Challa nearly choked on his water, not expecting to cross into that territory so soon.

“Uh, yes, umama, I do. It is still early though, the other night was only our first da-” he stopped when he saw the incredulous look on her face. She sucked her teeth at him.

“You brought a girl to the palace after one date? Do you make a habit of this?”

“No mama, I promise. The last time was when you caught me a few years back. With Ashanti it just...felt right.”

“Hmm...Lets hope it is. Bringing girls in the palace you barely know, I may not have been there your whole life, but I definitely raised you better than that...I can see she is different though, not like the riff raff you usually sniff around. That last girl you dated was horrid-”

T’Challa listened as Ramonda read his love life for filth, and all he could do was sit there.

“-skirts up to her ass, heels way too high for the setting. Thank Bast you’ve found someone good. Good for you, and good for Wakanda.”

“Woah, mama, we have only had one date and you are talking about Wakanda already? I do not even know if she would want to be queen one day.”

“No, but you want her to. I can see it in your eyes when you look at her. Yes, it’s early but you’re in love, unyana wam. The other day, watching the two of you, I could see how...easy you were with each other. I miss that easiness I had with your father…” T’Challa grabbed her hand as her eyes got misty. Ramonda blinked the tears away and turned the conversation back to T’Challa and Ashanti. “Everyone can see it, and I bet she’s walking around just as googly-eyed as you are.”

______

Ashanti and Kwame walked through the market arm-in-arm, picking up ingredients as they went.

“So tell me about this mining tribe hottie,” Ashanti spoke after a comfortable silence.

“Sis, I have one word for you: biceps. He could benchpress me and I just- woo that’s hot as fuck.” Kwame said, picking up a fan from a vendor and fanning himself dramatically before paying the old lady who ran the store.

“You really just bought a fan to be dramatic?”

“It’s practical and a prop!”

The two roommates broke out into giggles.

“Anyways, his name is Omar. Here’s his picture, isn't he cute? Ugh those dimples, I could swim in them.”

Ashanti flipped through a couple pictures of the two of them before Kwame shut the hologram down.

“You’re scrolling too much, you might see things you can't unsee.”

“Good looking out, friend.”

“So what are you serving kumkani other than that pussy?” Kwame asked loudly.

“Will you keep your voice down?! I’m not trying to announce this to the world.” Ashanti whisper-yelled at him before he threw his hands up in surrender.

“My bad, my bad. Hey did you close the shop today or did you finally hire someone?”

“No, not yet. I haven’t even really been looking, I should get on that. But, uh, yeah I closed early. I'm there 7 days a week, the people can handle me being out for a few hours,” Ashanti said, Kwame nodding along in agreement. “Hey, want to stop by my parents’ place for lunch?”

“Girl when have I ever said no to food?” Kwame responded with excitement. He never said no to food.

“Should we bring something back for B?”

“No she’s probably going to stay a couple nights with Kiki. You know, so they can ‘catch up’ or whatever. Honestly, its like she forgets i can see right through her.�� Kwame rolled his eyes.

“Even I can see they have feelings for eachother-”

“Girl blind people see they have feelings for each other. It’s her first experience with a girl so I don’t want to push her but damnit just do gay shit already sis!”

They arrived at Zana Cafe right as Ashanti’s riotous laughter subsided.

“Hey babygirl, hey Kwame! Where’s my other daughter?” Chidi asked, hugging them both.

The three of them sat at a table near the kitchen and away from the hustle and bustle.

“She’s out ignoring her feelings for Kiki.”

“Kiki Odunsi? She’s a nice girl, Binta has good taste.”

“That’s what I said, Baba, but she’s just too nervous to act on it. Yet she pushes me into the king’s arms-”

“I’m sure I don't want to hear the rest of that statement, but your mom will be back soon and I’m sure she’d love to hear all about it. You kids want some food? We got some curry that just finished, you have perfect timing.”

“We felt it in our souls,” Kwame half-joked. Chidi disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with their food, letting them dig in while he ran the restaurant.

About halfway through lunch Kwame got a message from Omar that made his entire face turn red as his lip disappeared under his top teeth.

“Go ahead,” Ashanti said, already knowing the content of the message without having to see it. He either sent a nasty picture or a dirty text, and either way she knew the second Kwame saw it he was mentally already sucking Omar’s dick.

He got up, giving her a quick peck on the cheek and waving goodbye to Chidi as he all but ran to his dick appointment.

“Well he sure got out of here in a hurry,” Chidi came over and sat across from his daughter.

“A boy texted him.”

“Should’ve known,” he said before clearing his throat. “So, the king...how is that going?”

“You actually want to talk about it?”

“Of course, you’re my daughter. It’s just hard to see you as an adult sometimes, but I’m getting better at it.”

“Well he and I really connect on a lot of levels. He’s so smart, and sweet, and considerate and I know we only had that one date but I feel like I’ve known him for years. We have another date tonight, I’m making him mama’s pirri pirri chicken.”

Chidi sat back in amazement. Here was his little girl...in love...with the king of Wakanda.

“You know, that’s what your mother made the first time she cooked for me.”

“It is?!”

“Mhm, that’s how she hooked me. Been trapped ever since.”

Ashanti playfully hit her father’s arm and thought about her meal plan for later.

“Well, Baba, I have to go prep for tonight. Give Mama my love when she gets back.” Ashanti kissed her father on the cheek and headed back to her empty home.

______

Her “Sacral Chakra” playlist blasted through the house as she danced in her underwear to Missy Elliott’s “Throw it Back” while stirring the rice one last time. Everything was ready, and she still had plenty of time before he was supposed to show up. She put the oven on “warm” and stuffed the dishes inside before removing the rice from the heat and trotting upstairs to get herself ready for the life changing dick-down she was surely about to receive.

She changed the music to fit the mood she wanted to set, switching to her “Sexy” playlist and swooning at the sound of one of her favorite songs tickling her ears.

Like a flame to a moth

I'm addicted to your sauce, so bad

I want it 24/7, 365, 911

I need it fast

Don't leave me 'lone (so)

Leave me 'lone, leave me 'lone (so fast)

Leave me 'lone, leave me 'lone right here

(911 terrible baby, yeah)

I want it all

Want it all, want it all

Want it all, want it all, my dear

All of your love

(Give it all to me, baby)

All of your love, yes

(It's for me it's for you, baby)

All of your love

('Cause I need it)

Give me all of your love (ooh)

Luke’s voice carried her as she took a dip in the tub with a colorful jasmine and ylang ylang bath bomb before moisturizing with rose-infused shea butter. Her skin smelled like a forbidden garden, just the way she liked it. Then she trimmed her pubic hair, cleaning up her bikini line and giving him a clear, well-groomed path to her treasure trove. Finally, she painted her nails and toes white to stand out against her skin and avoid clashing with her colorful, off the shoulder, bodycon ankara dress. Ashanti chose to keep her braids down and makeup light again, knowing all that extra makeup would get ruined anyway. For a final touch she slid on her strappy gold stilettos, knowing just how much he loved them from their kimoyo chats.

The doorbell rang and Ashanti took a deep breath before straightening her dress and heading to the door. When she opened it both of their jaws dropped. There he was in an all-black suit with a black shirt underneath, a purple pocket square, and that damn hoop in his ear. He looked like the black panther he was and Ashanti wanted nothing more than to be his prey.

His eyes roamed her body and landed back on her face before he stepped over the threshold and pulled her in for a deep, passionate kiss. Their tongues danced alongside each other as both of their hands reacquainted themselves with the other’s body. T’Challa’s hand steadily sliding down her backside brought her out of her daze and she broke the kiss. He frowned as though she had taken away his favorite toy.

“Dinner, your highness.” She said before giving him one last peck and escaping to the kitchen with him on her heels. As she tried to maneuver around the kitchen, T’Challa refused to let go of her waist, whispering sweet nothings in her ear every few seconds about how much he missed her.

“T’Challa, go sit down, I’ll bring you your food,” She giggled as he kissed her cheek repeatedly. “Go!”

He let her go with a slap on the ass and sat down at the table, watching her float around the kitchen. After a couple minutes, Ashanti set two plates full of delicious looking food down on the table. She cracked open a bottle of palm wine and poured them both a generous amount.

“Are you trying to get me drunk Miss Mostafa?”

“Maybe. Cheers.” Their glasses clinked together and they both took a sip without breaking eye contact.

“Tell me what you think,” Ashanti pointed at his plate to get him to focus. The king took one bite and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“You made this?!”

“Ha ha, T’Challa. Yes, I made this. It’s my umama’s recipe though. And make sure you save room for dessert” she said while digging into her food.

“My compliments to the chef,” he said as he seductively brought his lips around his forkful of food, still staring into her soul.

The two of them caught up on their time apart, what little they didn’t already discuss in their kimoyo chats. T’Challa regaled her with stories of his work with the Avengers, and he watched her in admiration as she spoke about the happenings at Taj’s.

“Ready for our next course?” Ashanti asked the king.

“I am.”

Ashanti scooped the warm mango cobbler into two bowls and topped each one with ice cream. She set T’Challa’s bowl down in front of him and went to take her seat when his hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her back towards him.

“Sit on my lap,” he said in a low grumble.

Ashanti’s feet carried her back to the king and she turned to sit across his lap.

“Not like that, face me.”

“My dress-”

“I don’t care.”

A chill went down her spine as she hiked her dress up over her thick thighs and straddled him. He reached for his bowl and scooped up some cobbler and ice cream, bringing it to her lips.

“Open.”

Her lips parted and she tasted her sugary concoction, happy it turned out how she wanted it to.

“Is it good?”

“Yes.”

“Is it sweet?” He asked, nuzzling into her neck and inhaling her scent.

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Feed it to me.”

They took turns feeding eachother the cobbler, licking the melted ice cream from each other's lips. With each bite, the king’s hand travelled further and further up Ashanti’s thigh, gripping her tight and causing her to let out the tiniest whimpers.

He could smell her arousal and it drove him crazy. When his hands travelled up to her hips and felt no underwear she looked at him and winked, flipping the switch within him. His eyes turned almost completely black as his fingers trailed across her body directly to her clit. Ashanti jumped, but his other arm held her down. His fingers circled her clit, making more wetness drip out of her. She suckled on his bottom lip and moved her hips to get him to stop teasing her, but he wasn’t a fan of her defiance.

“Did I say move?”

His voice sent a chill down Ashanti’s spine and straight to her pussy. Another rush of liquid escaped her and T’Challa chuckled darkly.

“You like when I tell you what to do, don't you?” He asked, one hand still teasing her clit while the other gripped her jaw forcing her to look into his eyes. She nodded desperately and he laughed in her face. “I know you do, kitten. You know what I want you to do for me?”

She struggled to compose herself, his teasing becoming too much for her to handle.

“What? I’ll do anything”

“I know you will. Cum on my fingers when I fucking say so, do you understand me?” She nodded as his fingers moved down to her now dripping hole, three of them opening her up and sliding in deep while the heel of his hand pushed into her clit. He slapped her ass with his free hand. “I said, do you understand me?”

“Y-yes.”

He curled his fingers inside her, alternating between quick and slow thrusts, all while dragging the pads of his fingers across her g-spot. More wetness pooled between her legs as he dug in her, causing her to grind into his hand for even more friction.

“There you go, nasty girl. Work for it, mhm…” He licked from her collarbone to her ear before nibbling on her lobe, making her release a moan from deep within her core. “You sound so beautiful, I’m going to make you sound like this all night. Are you ready for me?”

She held on tight to his shoulders and rocked into him more, the tension building in her body.

“Yes, kumkani.”

He growled and pulled his fingers from her, placing his hands under her thighs and picking her up while she whined at the empty feeling.

“Where’s your room?” He spoke into her ear as she wound her hips against his and sucked on his neck. She pointed up the stairs, but her lack of communication frustrated him more. He needed to be inside her now.

He backed her into an empty wall and pushed his pelvis into hers. Her eyes rolled back at the feel of his third leg against her pussy.

“You want it?” He teased. She nodded vigorously as he unzipped his pants and pushed them to his feet. “Do something about it.”

She reached between them and almost cried at the feeling of his hot, pulsating dick in her hands. She couldn’t close her small hands around it, and she wondered briefly about how it would fit in her mouth. She felt the throbbing veins up and down his shaft and his length would surely fill her to the brim. She swiped her thumb over the precum oozing out the head of his dick and brought it to her lips to taste. The sweet saltiness of him set her off, and she lifted her body up before sliding down on his length.

She was too eager to be bothered by the stretch of her pussy, just wanting him inside her.

He moaned into her ear and gripped her ass tight as she enveloped him in her warmth. He wanted to keep his composure, but it slipped more with every bounce of her juicy ass onto his pelvis. The thickness of his dick pulling her clit combined with the edging from earlier had her on the verge of an orgasm already.

After letting her get used to his size, the king decided to stop playing nice and pushed her back into the wall, staring deep into her eyes as he thrust into her body. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she held on for dear life as he busted her wide open.

“Oooh, T’Challa!”

“Hm? You like when I do that? What about this?” He lifted her and brought her down onto him, the force causing her to yell out his name between thrusts.

“T-Chal-la, oh-my-Bast-it-feels-so-good. Mmm I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” She barely rushed out before her muscles tightened and released around him, both of them moaning out in pleasure. He continued to hold her while they stared into each other’s eyes forehead to forehead, breathing heavily, until she broke the silence.

��Can I taste you?” she whispered and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He placed her down and she immediately sank to her knees, licking her essence off of his dick.

His hand went to the back of her head as she sucked the tip and rotated her two hands along his shaft. After a few moments she grew brave and pushed him further into her throat, making his toes curl. She was down to one hand and decided to go even deeper. Resting her jaw, she brought her free hand to stroke his shaft while alternating between licking his balls and softly bringing them into her mouth. Her lips made their way back to his pulsating dick, his chorus of “fuck yes, just like that” and “suck that dick” lost on her ears while she focused all her will power on swallowing the monster before her. Her mouth slowly crept over his tip and down his shaft as far down as she went before. She swallowed and took him in deeper, nose almost touching his pubic hair.

“Fuck!”

He wasn’t expecting that and came down her throat. She gladly swallowed every drop.

“Good girl, make sure you clean your plate for your king.” He pulled her up by her jaw and kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth to taste himself on her. He slapped both her ass cheeks.

“Get in that bedroom.”

She grabbed his hand and led him to her room, her dress at her waist and those damn heels on her feet. Ashanti had a feeling those would be staying on most of the night.

When she opened her door, he only looked around briefly before grabbing her by her throat and licking her neck. Her pussy throbbed once more.

“Why do you like when I’m rough with you?” He growled in her ear as he unzipped her dress. “Answer me.”

“My king, I-I don’t know but it turns me on.”

“You don’t know, huh? That’s not a good enough answer. Bend over, grab your ankles. Let’s see if you can figure it out” His hand pushed on her back, making her bend at the waist before he slammed into her, taking everything she had to give. His hips slowed down and stirred inside her, making her release a long, deep moan each time he pushed deeper.

Tears came to her eyes from how he was hitting it. She had never felt anything so deep or so thick inside her, and the way he was moving made her cry out to the heavens.

“Bast!”

“She’s not here love, you’re at my mercy,” He chuckled and grabbed her neck, pulling her up to whisper in her ear as his hips sped back up and she grabbed onto the back of his head for stability. His left hand had a tight grip on her hip, but his right hand came up to tweak her nipples as he slowed his strokes back down, circling his hips.

“Yes, kumkani” she moaned out on repeat like a broken record. He had hit that spot in her that shut her brain down, making her putty in his hands.

“I’m going to ask you again sithandwa, why do you like it when I’m rough with you? Hmm? I know it’s hard to think right now, but try for your kumkani. We talked about it before. Why do you want me to treat you this way?”

“B-because I’m my kumkani’s little slut.”

He smiled as wide as the cheshire cat and stilled inside her, another deep chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“That’s my good girl, my little slut. You like being kumkani’s little slut?”

“Mmm, yes. Please, make me your slut kumkani. I’ll be good.”

He pulled out and slapped her ass.

“Prove it. Good girls ride dick.” He laid back on the bed, hands behind his head as he watched her stand over him and squat onto his throbbing member. He moaned as she dropped her weight on him and picked it back up repeatedly, tightening her kegel muscles on the way back up each time. She eventually dropped down to her knees to give her thighs a break and leaned back towards his legs, giving him a full view of her body as he watched himself go in and out of her.

“Shit, Ashanti.”

She slowed down and sat up, circling her hips and gripping him tight before leaning over and letting him suck on her nipples. She let him have his fill then whispered in his ear, “Am I a good girl yet?”

His mouth left her breasts and he pulled her into a deep kiss, their tongues fighting for dominance with his eventually winning again. He pulled back to take in her beautiful face that was twisted in pleasure, his black eyes staring deep into her brown ones.

“The best.”

The king wrapped his arms around Ashanti’s waist and spread his legs before thrusting up into her, catching her off guard. Her body succumbed to his and another wave of intense pleasure washed over her as she came once more. He fucked her all the way through her orgasm, refusing to let up.

“Do you have one more in you kitten? Can you be a good girl and cum again for your kumkani?”

“T’Challa, I-”

“Who?!” he hooked his arms under her knees and flipped them over, driving his big dick deep into her guts with a roll of his hips.

Tears came to her eyes and he wiped them away, pausing his movements. “Are you ok, love? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I...it just feels so good. You feel so good inside me, baby.”

“Do I?” he teased as he thrust impossibly deeper inside her, watching as the tears sprang from her eyes, kissing them away.

“Yessss,” she hissed as their foreheads came together so they could stare deep into each other’s souls as their climaxes approached.

He pushed her legs back further and she felt him drop all his weight into her pussy over and over and over and she left her body, tears running from her eyes and juices seeping from her pussy. Her head rolled back and a faint smile appeared on her face as he fucked her stupid. Her nails dug into his back as his hips continued to thrust into her from above and he left his signature on her neck. He felt her body tensing up again and he decided to stop delaying his release before he killed the poor girl.

“Kitten.” He said to her in a soft, sweet voice, slowing down his strokes and just grinding in her deep. She struggled to focus on him but when their eyes met, he leaned in for a soft kiss. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. You take me so well baby, it’s like your pussy was made for me. You said I could cum inside you, will you still let your kumkani cum deep inside that pussy?” They had already discussed this, knowing it would come up at some point. Luckily they both had their STI prevention shots and they were both on birth control, so since they shared the same kink they decided to go for it.

“Yesss, please kumkani. Cum inside me,” Ashanti said as she locked her legs around his waist.

The king’s thrusts picked up the pace, elevating them both to their highs. The tension rose in their bodies, Ashanti scrambling to hold him closer, and T’Challa struggling to contain his strength so as not to cause real damage. When the dams broke, their bodies shook violently and he filled her up while she spilled all over him. He slowly thrusted into her as his dick continued to pump her pussy full of him. His thrusts slowed to a stop as she came down from her climax. He leaned back and opened his mouth and let a glob of spit fall onto her clit before lightly rubbing it in with his thumb.

“T’Challaaaaa!” she whined, feeling overwhelmed. He smirked and stopped, leaning down to plant a kiss on her forehead then her nose, then her lips.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” he said as he continued to lightly kiss around her face and neck. Her legs still hadn't let him go, so his hips churned inside her very slowly, grinding just enough to keep her turned on but not enough to over stimulate her. “You just can’t let me go, huh?”

“Uh-uh,” she pulled him to her soft lips, only allowing them to slightly graze each other. “You feel too good.” She whined.

“Oh I do? You love when I’m deep in that pussy, don't you? You want me in there all the time? Want me to slut you out whenever I fucking feel like it?”

“Mmmm, yes kumkani.”

“Good girl. Now let me go baby, I’m not done with you.”

“T’Cha-” She was cut off by a deadly glare. “Kumkani, my pussy is tired.”

“I know kitten, this will help her feel better.”

Ashanti slowly unraveled her legs and moaned as his dick slowly left her, pulling on her clit and her g-spot on the way out. The emptiness she felt was soon replaced by the feeling of his copious amounts of cum dripping from her hole.

T’Challa moaned at the sight then leaned in for a taste, causing Ashanti to gasp unexpectedly. His tongue moved up and down her pussy, collecting his cum and spreading it all over. He sucked on her clit and his fingers slowly found their way inside her to rub on her spot before his finger and tongue switched. He tongue fucked her walls while his thumb strummed her clit lazily, her legs twitching on every upstroke . His moans of pleasure pushed her further to her climax and when he started slurping his cum out of her pussy she lost it, body convulsing and cumming all over his chin. He slurped up their combined fluids and brought his lips to hers, transferring their cum to her mouth for her to taste. She swallowed and stared into his eyes, bottom lip between her teeth. He rolled over beside her and they faced each other.

“Don’t look at me like that. You already won't be walking tomorrow, but I can make it a week,” T’Challa warned and the two broke out into laughter.

“Wow, just...that was...wow,” Ashanti said, still processing what just happened.

“Is something wrong? Was I too rou-” Ashanti shut him up with a kiss.

“It was amazing. And oh my Bast, you are nasty as fuck.”

T’Challa chuckled, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his chest.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg, dear.”

Ashanti stilled then looked up at him in fear and arousal, both of which were made worse by the bloodthirsty look on his face.

“What else are you into?”

The two lovers laid there and talked for hours, only pausing for a brief moment while Ashanti went to the bathroom. They talked about their kinks and exploring more together. They spoke about their futures, their bucket lists, their families, and more. The conversation veered from comical to serious to heart wrenching to seductive all within the span of a few hours.

They eventually fell asleep with T’Challa’s strong arms wrapped around Ashanti’s waist, just like the last time they slept in each other’s arms and hopefully just like all the times they’ll lay together in the future.

Our love

Your love

On me

Our love

My love

In you

Our love

Your love

On me

Our love

My love

Ooh!

(Did you ever think that, maybe

Maybe it's destiny?

Maybe it's destiny that brought us together)

Next Chapter

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #t'challa #t'challa x oc #black!oc #smut #playlist

75 notes · View notes

what-the--curtains · 3 years

Text

Not A Piece of Art

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

Part 3/5 - Don’t Fall In Love with Me

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Summary: Lines are crossed as you and Peña work to convince the targets of your unions legitimacy.

Rating: 18+ DNI If underage I will block u (don’t try me) , smut (ish?), fingering (woman receiving), swearing

Authors notes: whoop okay y’all, pretty new to *smut* so I’m trying my best please be kind with ur criticisms! Anyways this is a long one I hope you enjoy it!! Thank you for all the kind words and support you guys are awesome💕💕

Word count: 6.4k

Tagged: @trash-dino-5000 @diogodxlot @agingerindenial

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Week 2

Sharing the massive California king bed with Javi was less of a palava than you’d expected. It was large enough that you were able to achieve a comfortable distance from him by sleeping on the bed's precipice. Despite your assumption that his annoying personality would carry over into sleep, he was actually the ideal person to share a room with. He fell asleep quickly, hardly moved and most importantly he didn't snore. As the week progressed your sharp edges began to smooth out, helping to relieve the tension making your living situation infinitely more tolerable. You’d relaxed into him slightly, your jaw no longer locking in fury when he so much as entered into your periphery. The surprising nature of the change was only overshadowed by the morning when he’d woken up to your leg wrapped around his waist and his own hand running absentmindedly up and down your thigh. Sometime during the night, and by no volition of your own, you’d maneuvered your way into his arms. Javi wasn’t sure what was more unbelievable, how peaceful you looked while near him or how he hadn’t immediately pushed you off him. The pyjamas you’d been wearing in an attempt to keep your body hidden had failed. Your basketball shorts had ridden up and the Ramones shirt that was obviously an ex-boyfriends had been pushed up by Javis hand during the night. He chuckles, when a faint snore escapes your lips, noting the irony of the situation considering you'd threatened to suffocate him if he so much as made a sound in the night. He wonders if you always looked this way in the morning, he’d never paid attention until he was trapped under you, his heart begins to race as your hand begins circling lightly on his chest. Not wanting you to wake up and see him staring down at you like some kind of stalker he quickly, but gently, rolls you onto your stomach. Besides, domesticity wasn’t an area he was comfortable with, and it definitely wasn’t on his to do list. Especially not with you.

The sound of the bathroom door shutting followed by water splashing onto the tiled floor wakes you up. You swallow, lick your lips and groan into the pillow, not wanting to spend another day living a facade. You roll over, realizing you’d once again shifted into the center of the bed during the night. You groan as you roll out of bed knowing the midday heat that was slowly creeping into frame would be followed shortly by the humidity. Your feet hit the marbled floor, cooling you down instantly as you walk towards the closet that could easily double as a second bedroom, choosing something light and airy to prevent you from sweating profusely. You brush the taste of morning out of your mouth before heading into the kitchen, where you're greeted by the smell of freshly brewed coffee, a mug of which is handed to you by the DEA agent, who was giving you a once over.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the mug and sitting down at the kitchen table.

“I have to ask you a question.” Javi says, once he was sure you had been sufficiently caffeinated.

“Should I be afraid?” you ask, narrowing your eyes as you take another sip of the coffee.

“What's your issue with me?” He asks outright.

“Too early to get into this.” you murmur.

“It's 11 but fine, keep your secrets. How about this one you spoon Steve when the two of you use too...” he stops, making an obscene gesture with his hand causing you to look over to him in disgust.

“What?” you ask, confused by more than one of those statements. His confidence dissipates, as he raises his hands up, shifting into defensive mode.

“I’ve never slept with Steve! Did he tell you we did? That’s so fucked up!” you start, face riddled with anger.

“No he never…” Javi tried to explain.

“Then why the fuck would think that!” you exasperate, throwing your hand up in the air, eyes wide waiting for his response.

“I saw you leave his room when we were on that case out of town” He blurts out, hands still up, further away from you than when the conversation had started.

“Ya! I slept on his couch because of you!” you exclaim.

“Me?” he asks, now more confused than ever.

“Yes! Well I guess technically by the women loudly proclaiming there satisfaction with your performance”

“Is that why you hate me? Because I kept you awake for a few nights” he laughs, unable to accept something so minor had resulted in the fiery feud between the two of you.

“One of many reasons” you retort, drawing out the ‘many’, to justify your grudge.

“Can't control what women do when i’m with them, Cariño .” he says, still in disbelief that something so small was the root of your hatred.

“You know it's fake right?” you say, cocking an eyebrow “Like you don’t actually think that it's real? you may be good but there's no way you're that good. Believe me i've been that person before and not to hurt your ego but...”

“No definitely not trying anything” he says, cutting you off. You were currently giving him more and more reason to hate you. He’d have a better reason for it than you currently did, you continuously treated him like shit, and for something so stupid. Enraged, and pride slightly shot, he grabs the remainder off his coffee and a pack of cigarettes heading out to the balcony to cool off. He lights his cigarette and leans out onto the railing, staring over to the mansion where you were being watched. He can’t let you get to him like that, it was too risky, there was already one hot head in this duo, it didn't need another. Taking a long drag of the cigarette he calls you over, and to his surprise you oblige. Guess you could be compliant when you wanted to be.

“They’re watching” he says as you enter onto the balcony. You lean back onto the railing looking up at him confused.

“This whole wall is made of glass, we need to make sure it's turned on whenever they can see us,” he explains. You hated to admit it, but he was right, this act needed to become more permanent. The pained look evident on your face, as you accept your fate causes Javi to smile. Suddenly endeared by your expressiveness, at least he never had to wonder what you were thinking. He wraps his arms around you pulling you into him, for a tight embrace as he rubs his hand down your back. The tension leaves your body, despite his flaws Peña was an excellent hugger. You decided to try and say one good thing about him everyday until this whole fiasco was over and you never had to put up with each other again.

“I’m going to go down to the beach” you say, knowing the ocean was the one place that could keep you calm. Your rage absorbed by the waves, breaking as they crashed into the rocks of the shoreline. You change into an overly revealing one piece before heading down to shore barefoot, happy to have some time away from the confinement of your shoes and the house. You lay the towel out on rock with your cover up prepared to let the water wash over you when you hear your name called. You turn to see Helena spread out on the sand like a cover girl, tilting her oversized sunglasses down as she beckons you over.

“How are you settling in?”

“Better than expected” you say smiling, sitting down on the sand next to her.

“You're lying to me..” she says causing your stomach to drop “glass walls we see everything the two of you have been fighting non-stop.”

“Must it be like having free tv?” you laugh, “The fights are my fault, since the move, i've lost my edge. I haven’t painted anything good in months and I’ve been taking it out on him”

“Hmmm” she hums out, eyes scanning yours, looking for a crack to pry into.

“What?” you ask softly.

“You almost have me convinced, but there's something I can't quite explain, something is amiss between the two of you. What secrets do you harbour? I’d love to know”

“None,” you pause for a moment contemplating your next move carefully, “at least none that involve him” you say eyes meeting her’s she raises her eyebrows and puts her sunglasses back on, seemingly satisfied for now, or simply having lost interest. She stands up, grabbing her towel and book.

“We’re scheduled to have a few new pieces arrive this week, you should come see them once they arrive. Bring your husband. Carlos would be thrilled to see him as would I. Shall we say this coming Saturday?” she asks.

“I’ll have to check, but that would be lovely.” You watch her leave, before standing up and brushing the sand off your ass. You make your way over to the shallows and dive beneath the water. Javi watches from the windowsill as your figure disappears beneath the waves, a strange feeling of concern staying with him until he sees you resurface.

You plod back up to the house as the sun begins to set, not wanting to get stuck out after dark. You walk into the house and the smell of something fills your nostrils, was he cooking? You take a quick shower before returning to the kitchen to see a very disgruntled looking Javi who had evidently made an effort to cook for you both as a gesture of good faith.

“Smells good” you say, you weren't going to criticize him for actually trying to be a better roommate.

“Probably the only thing about it that's good” he grumbles sitting down across from you.

“Well this is not as bad as I thought” you say the food was actually edible, but that was really as much credit he’d be getting.

“Thank you”

“For what?” you respond.

“Lying to spare my feelings” he says.

“ First off I'd never lie to protect your ego and secondly, well I appreciate the effort, you’ve now proven to me that you really can't cook, so I will start cooking for you as well.” you offer

“Thank god” he says, standing up and heading over to the sink.

“I'll wash up, you cooked” you say nudging him out the way so you can get to the sink. He drops the dishes, willing to let you take over, standing at the counter watching you as you clean.

“ She thinks there is something off about us, Helena, I saw her at the beach, she practically said we weren't who we were pretending to be.” you state, turning back to see if he’s listening. “Probably not helped by the fighting I suppose” you admit.

“Probably not.” Javi says.

“Oh and we're going to theres for dinner later this week, the tests came back positive so drugs are definitely coming into contact with the paintings. You need to get him to ask us to make him a fake copy, or at least to admit he’s sending fakes.”

“Begs the question, where are the real things?” he asks.

“Who knows. Gotta be somewhere, he’d have to own them so that when they get mailed it doesn't look sketchy.”

“Mhmm,” he says absentmindedly.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” You ask whipping the towel at his head, noticing he's checked out completely.

“What?” he says, forehead creased, still looking concerned.

“What are you thinking about?”

“About how to convince them that we are... you know… together… physically” he states cautiously.

“Well maybe we only do it in the bedroom, or maybe we don’t do it all? Relatioships dont need to have sex.” you explain.

“No, but I may have suggested that we do it frequently and everywhere” he says sheepishly, eyes on the counter.

“Great” you sigh. “Well, go on, sounds like you have a suggestion.” you continue tilting your head as you continue to dry a pan.

“It's an indecent proposal, but a proposal nonetheless” he draws out.

“Don’t beat around the bush, Peña, get to the point” you say, turning the dish back on the rack.

“I think we could stage what would be considered the beginning stages of it, well within their view without it being obvious”

“Where? In the living room?”

“Yes, but we’d move to the bedroom before anything serious happened” he swallows, prepared for any reaction.

“Alright,” you sigh “but no mouth kissing” he laughs “What?”

“No mouth kissing? How old are you?”

“Shut up!” you say, going to punch him in the arm, but he grabs your wrist rubbing his thumb over it, smiling when you get flustered, pulling away quickly.

The next morning he finds you in the bathroom, hair pulled back out of your face as an exasperated groan escapes your lips.

“You don’t have to put makeup on for me” he smirks, just when you were starting to find him tolerable he went and did something that made your blood boil.

“I’m not putting makeup on” you, murmur. A half lie, you were currently in the throes of trying to artfully create fake hickeys on your neck.

“They're not usually sparkly, you know,” he remarks, smiling as your jaw clenches slightly and your nose scrunches up.

“Ugh, you think I don’t know that! “ You say, grabbing a towel and rubbing the skin raw.

“Don’t worry I’ll leave some tonight” he states.

“You know we're not actually...” you assure looking at him through the mirror.

“I'm well aware, but I want them to look real, nothing intrusive scouts honour” he says holding his hand over his heart.

“Please Peña we both know you're anything but a boy scout. You realize you’ll need some as well.” you state,

“Deal” he says, grinning and raising his eyebrows. Had he just gotten exactly what he wanted? You stand in the bathroom, brows knitted and lips parted as you try and figure out the answer.

It’s after dinner and you stand in the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. The racy lingerie you had chosen was hitting every curvature of your body perfectly. You want to cover yourself up. Showing your body to someone new was always nerve wracking, even if this was simply an act you still had a sinking feeling in your stomach. A feeling brought on by the deeply rooted fear of disappointing someone.

You pull on a sheer robe with a faint gold floral pattern, it didn’t cover you up much, but it did make you feel less vulnerable. You pull on the high heels that match the lingerie, thanking god that you only had to walk a few meters to your destination.

The distinct clack of high heel on marble causes Javier's head to turn. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you striding down the hall. He shifts in his seat biting his tongue to distract from the current urges he was feeling. He reminds himself that none of this was real and that he had to keep his cool. You already despised him for being an ass, he didn't want you adding pervert to the list of things you currently hated about him. He leans forward, tapping his cigarette on the ashtray, swallowing hard as you come to stand before him. His eyes move slowly up your body to meet your gaze, but your eyes are looking over him. He puts out the cigarette and places his hands on your hips roughly pulling you down onto his lap. His hands ease up and down your back venturing only as far as the contract would allow.

“What no snarky comment?” you say finally looking down to meet his deep brown eyes.

“Nothing to complain about from my end” he murmurs, his hands rubbing over your calves.

“Gross” you whisper

“Que me estas haciendo hermosa”’ “What are you doing to me sweetheart?” he asks, momentarily forgetting you knew how to speak Spanish.

“What was that?” you say enjoying the power you currently had over the usually cocky agent, who was seemingly in trance. He opens his mouth to say something but before he can get a word in you place a kiss on his jaw line. His mouth hangs open as you begin to trail kisses down his neck. You stop beside a prominent vein caused by his jaw being so tightly clenched. You graze your teeth over the area before biting down on the tanned skin. He thanks himself for deciding to wear jeans and not something thinner, feeling himself strain against the fabric. His grip on your waist becomes vice like when you begin to suck on the area you’d just marked. The soft moan that Javi unwillingly emits takes you by surprise causing you to giggle.

The laugh awakens something in Javi and he growls as he stands up, taking you with him. You wrap your legs around him to steady yourself as he buries his head in your neck. You inhale sharply as he latches onto your skin, immediately locating a sensitive spot. Your head goes back as he nips at the area, biting your lip not wanting to give him the satisfaction. You move your hands through his hair pulling it so he detaches from you, dark eyes staring into your own before quickly moving to your collarbone. He bites down causing you to buck into him, and you could practically feel him smirk into your skin as he moves down to your chest, working overtime to get some kind of noise from you.He drops you onto the couch causing your hair to fall in front of your face, as you work to steady your breathing. You understood why he was sent to get information from women, despite your constant attempts to belittle him, there was no denying that he knew what he was doing.He kneels down in front of you and pushes your legs open.

“Peña” you warn.

“Just marks, I promise” he says and you give him the go ahead. He kisses above your knee before working his way along your inner thighs stopping just before the hem of your underwear staying there long enough to convince anyone watching that he was tending to your needs. You're sure he can see your arousal, despite your attempts to hide it when his teeth had grazed against your inner thigh your body betrayed you. You could feel yourself slowly soaking through the thin fabric. You pull his head back and he pushes himself up onto his elbow positioning his body over you.

“Think they've seen enough?” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Probably” he says, if he was a worse man he would have lied and gone back down between your thighs, silently hoping you’d allow him to venture further. His hands pull you into him and your arms wrap around his neck as he lifts you up again, walking you both towards the bedroom. You tried to keep your crotch away from his torso, fearful that you'd leave a stain on his shirt, you’d never live it down if he found out. He stops once more in the kitchen propping you in the counter to mark your neck up a bit more, when you try to squirm your hips away from him he digs his fingers into your skin locking you in place. He pulls you off the counter and carries you into the bedroom, mouth still attached to your skin, willing to take this as far as you would allow.

“Stop” you whisper, pulling yourself out of the situation. Immediately he removes his mouth and drops you onto the bed where you fall with a slight bounce. He walks over to the closet grabbing some sleepwear.

“You want to use the bathroom first or?” he asks as if nothing had just happened.

“No, I just need to brush my teeth, you go ahead.” you lie, knowing full well you had to wipe yourself clean as well.

Javi shuts the door making sure it locked before he growls in frustration, he’d half hoped you wouldn't have stopped him. He thought you’d been enjoying what he was doing, most women did and he knew fucking the rage out of you would feel phenomenal. Maybe women were just that good at faking it, though he swore he could make out a wet patch seeping through your lingerie. His cock, which had been at half mast since you walked into view, had been straining painfully against his jeans for the past 10 minutes. He groans as he finally frees it, contemplating wrapping his hand around it and fixing the problem right now, but he can’t risk you hearing him. He turns on the shower instead, letting it run cold before stepping into it. He walks out 30 minutes later to find you passed out on the bed, the soft snoring that was slowly growing on him filling the room. He crawls under the covers, waiting patiently for you to find your way over to him. Even in the dark he can see his handiwork beginning to take shape, he smiles knowing he’d left them there, only wishing the scumbags back at the office could see them, so they’d finally stop pestering you.

“God I feel like I'm in highschool again” you say running your hands over your neck.

“What the fuck were you doing in highschool?” Javie laughs. How the hell had you gotten out of it looking like a mosaic while he’d only got stuck with the few you’d managed to leave on his neck.

“Come here” you say, watching as he gets out of bed, it was one of the rare mornings that you’d actually woken up before him.

“Why?” he asks stretching as he shifts out of bed leaning his elbows on his knees as he reaches for a cigarette

“I've got to scratch your back up a bit, and don’t smoke in the bedroom!” you chastise.

“Really?” he asks, walking towards you leaving the unlit cigarette in his mouth.

“Ya look at these nails? They leave marks,” you say wiggling your fingers in front of his face. He stops in front of you allowing you to hook your hands under his arm to get to his back. Apparently, Peña was most compliant when he'd just woken up and before his coffee. Slowly, you rake your painted nails down his back causing an involuntary growl to come out.

“You all done?” he mumbles

“Yup” you respond

Week 3

The following days fly by and it's not long before it's time for you to go to your neighbours for dinner again. The bruises on your skin left by Peñas skillful mouth were still prevalent, but now in the unflattering healing process. You walk into the kitchen in another lingerie set, having taken to walking around half naked now Javi had already seen you in such and you no longer considered him a threat. He’d demonstrated his ability to understand basic consent by not forcing you to continue after you'd told him to stop. A low bar, but still one that wasn't crossed. You scoot up onto the counter and he hands you a coffee running his hands up and down your thighs as you take a sip.

“They still watching?” you sign out, annoyed at having someone in your personal space so early in the morning.

“I think so, I've seen a few people move in and out the house, a couple of cars driving up as well, but they've gone now. Wonder if they've got a new piece come in, maybe something you can copy for them.” he says.

“Ya Helena had mentioned something about new arrivals. Think I'll get to see it tonight?” you yawn, as he flicks his lighter failing at getting a flame to appear.

“Hopefully” he grunts, you grab the cigarette from his lips, placing it between your own before taking the lighter and getting it in one. You take a drag as he kisses your neck before taking the cigarette back from you and heading out onto the balcony.

“Welcome!” Carlos booms opening the door to you both, embracing Javi and kissing you on the cheek. “She's more beautiful with every passing day, though I did prefer her skin when it was all one colour” Carlos remarks, raising his brows to Javi in congratulations.

“I can get overzealous,” he laughs.

“A need to mark his property, it's what men do isn't it Cariño ?” he says looking at you as you force a smile.

“Hello, apologies I was in the washroom” Helena says making her way down the staircase. Peña takes the moment to wrap himself around you biting gently on your earlobe.

“Helena perfect timing, take Melanie to the bar, get her a drink, I need an opinion from her husband.”

“You look at her as if you’ve never been with her before, full of wonderment.” Carlos says closing the door to his office and gesturing for Javier to sit on the significantly shorter chair as he takes his place in front of the large oak desk.

“The beauty of loving an artist, they wear many different faces, everyday she's new to me. How can I be of assistance?” he asks.

“That is the wrong question. Can you be of assistance? I believe you to be genuine, but my wife is neurotic, you know how they are. She seems to think you and your wife are not who you say you are. She’s suspicious after a recent unpleasantness with the previous residents of your home, you see.”

“Who can blame her. Many people have questioned our relationship, they think someone like her would only be with me for one reason. But I know the truth, even if the rest of the world doesn't” Javi explains. Helena was smarter than her husband, thank god she wasn't in here with them. He’s sure she’d see through him.

“That's what I believe as well, so by asking you this I put myself in a very precarious position. One I hope you will appreciate. I will not share the details but I need your wifes services.” Carlos states,

“I don't think she would be comfortable…” Javi starts, playing up his incompetence.

“Ha, not those kinds of services though I would not pass up the opportunity. You say she can make copies of art?”

“Yes.”

“Can she recreate this,” he asks, pulling out a photo of a painting in a local museum. Not famous enough to draw attention, but well known enough to not be handled by too many people as it passed through security.

“I'll have to ask her, but I don’t see it being an issue” he says

“Have her do it, drop it off when she's done.” He demands.

“I assume her name won't be attached to this, if anything happens”

“Of course not, we keep our friends safe.”

“Good” Javi nods his head slowly sucking on his teeth as he rises from the chair.

After dinner Helena and Carlos excuse themselves. Leaving you along with Javi,

“I have to pee, I'll be back” you say, standing up and trying to find the bathroom you’d used the last time you were here. You find yourself lost, but you follow the sounds of raised voices, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“You have involved them too soon they cannot be trusted!” Helena whisper yells

“Helena you’ve truly lost your mind this time, did you see the marks on her neck between her legs, how do you explain those?” he says slamming his fists onto the desk.

“Marks can be manufactured, they mean nothing! If we go down it's your fault” she says through gritted teeth.

“If they so much as step a toe out of line, i'll kill them both myself”

“Watch them tonight, she recoils slightly at his touch before settling in, somethings off, I know it.” She states

“Do not presume to tell me how to run this business, and do not blame me for your over emotional outburst again, you know what happens when you stop serving your intended purpose” He spits.

You quickly turn, not wanting to stick around any longer, the sound of there not so silently yells drowning out the clack of heels as you scurry back down the hall. Javi, who had gone out in search of you after you failed to return, is winded as you almost slam into him. He looks down to see a very obvious look of distress on your face. He pulls you into the bathroom locking the door behind him.

“What?” he asks, shaking his head.

“What yourself?” you spit back, despite the confident tone he can see that you’re shaking. He places his hands on your shoulders, thumbs gently rubbing circles helping to calm you down. “they're not buying it” you say, if you didn't get it together you’d both be screwed.

“You can't go back out there like this they'll know.” he murmurs, unsure how to stop you from going into a complete meltdown. He should have better prepared you for the psychological trauma of being undercover.

“I’m sorry, i'm going to blow this.” you say, the first time he’d gotten an apology from you.

“I have an idea, but you stop me if you...” he starts

“Do what you have to.” you say, needing to forget what you’d just heard, not waiting to end up in a body bag.

He lifts you up onto the granite countertop between the two sinks shifting up the thin material of your dress up as he does. He pulls down your underwear, stuffing it into one of his pockets as he pushes your knees apart taking a moment to take in the view. He makes quick work of putting his mouth on you. Sucking down on the already sensitive skin, you emit a loud moan, unable to mask how good the pain felt. His hand moves over your mouth.

“Shhh, baby we can't be too loud” he murmurs into your skin as his hand slips the strap off your shoulder exposing your breasts. He massages it intermittently pinching your nipple until it buds while his mouth works away at your neck. You go to move your thighs together, desperate to create some friction when he bites down on your collarbone, but he uses his leg to keep them separated. He runs his hand down your body. You whimper slightly as he slowly drags a single digit up and down your slick folds gathering up your juices.

“Maybe those women weren’t as fake as you thought.” He says, his mouth attaching to your exposed nipple, preventing you from responding.

“What was that “ he asks, smugly slowly circling around your clit as he sinks two fingers into you. He feels you clench around him when he grazes up against your most sensitive area.

“Jesus your fucking tight” he half moans into your neck as he begins to slowly pump his thick digits in and out, his thumb continuously circling around your swollen clit. You arch your back in an attempt to get him deeper inside you, encouraging him to pump faster, curling his fingers to apply pressure to your g-spot. His mouth goes back to your breast and he bites down on your nipple causing you to whine out desperately.

“Are you faking it now?” he asks, smirking down at you, you don’t know why but the cockiness was doing it for you. Unable to respond you close your eyes and throw your head back. He hears your breath get shorter, and he feels your walls begin to flutter around him. You clench down on his hand as you climax, his hand covering your mouth stopping any noise from reverberating out of the bathroom. He leaves his hand over your mouth until he feels your breathing calm, his thumb running over your cheek bone as he does. He brings the hand down to your throat squeezing it gently as he reluctantly removes his fingers from the warmth of your pussy. He bites his tongue when he hears the disappointed huff leave your lips at the loss of his hand. You watch as he washes his hands and exits the bathroom leaving you to deal with the mess he’d made.

“Excuse us, my wife she gets emotional somethime, things come over her, you know how women can be.” he explains to Carlos and Helena who had been waiting in the bar for who knows how long. You appear behind him flustered, hair messed dress slightly askew, new marks already forming on your neck. Helena looks impressed, Carlos looks surprised, your appearance made it clear as to what had just happened in their bathroom. A fact made even more obvious by your underwear which was currently hanging out one of his pockets. You quickly go up and stuff it deep down the extreme embarrassment you currently felt had completely overtaken the fear of being killed. Had he planned this?

“Emotional, is that what they're calling it these days” Carlos asks, shooting Helena an ‘I told you so’ look. At least one of them was convinced.

As you walk back into your house you bend over taking off your shoes, snapping up immediately when you remember you weren't wearing any underwear. You were dreading the inevitable bragging that was sure to come. You remind yourself that it wasn't really you in that bathroom. It was your character, you didn't cum for Javi, Melanie Alvirez did. You still still hated him.

“He wants you to paint him a copy of this” Peña says, coming up behind you, sliding the photo into your view.

“He trusts us?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Not enough to tell me what it's for, but after that little performance I think he may just tell us what's going on. One last thing.” He says shifting out of his jacket, losing the tie around his neck. “Don’t fall for me,” he says.

“Oh please” you laugh, embarrassment replaced by annoyance.

“Seriously, It wouldn’t be the first time” he brags

“You may be good looking Peña, but you're not a piece of art, so get over yourself” you dig.

“Meaning?” He questions, still smiling.

“Pretty, but lacking depth” you say, returning a fake smile.

“So you think im good looking and good at fucking?’ he continues, hoping to rile you up.

“When did I ever say I thought you were good at fucking?” you ask, fully prepeared to knock his ego back down after accidentally inflating it.

“Your right didn’t say it, moaned it” he emphasizes leaning over the counter.

“Congratulations Peña you know where a woman's clit is! Would you like a round of applause, maybe a participation ribbon, a plaque reading ‘man does the bare minimum’?”

“You’re seriously tryna tell me it wasn’t good?” now you were just making him angry, reactions don’t lie. He’d watched your face, every breath, every bite of your lip as you tried to stop yourself from screaming his name. He knew you'd enjoyed it, he felt you clench around him, felt you soak his fingers.

“No, I'm telling you that you're not ‘screaming through the walls loud’ good!” His teeth are gritted and his nostrils flare as he throws his hands up in the air, heading towards the bedroom. He needed to get away from you. Not wanting to throw you down on the closest surface and show you just how good he could be.

You watch as he storms off into the bedroom, your shoulders deflate and for the first time you consider that maybe you’d gone too far. You’d been trying to piss him off, trying to hurt his feelings, and you’d overstepped. Especially considering you weren’t exactly being truthful. Was he good? Yes. Did you have to take more time than you'd care to admit getting yourself together afterwards? Maybe. Were you curious to know if he could actually make you scream? Absolutely. But he also wasn’t the first guy to leave you feeling that way. It was good but it wasn’t ‘scream it from the rooftops’ good. You wonder if he was even trying, or if he wasn’t invested in your pleasure just giving you enough to make it look believable for the neighbours. The thought leaves you even more interested in his full abilities in the bedroom, not that you'd ever tell anyone that, or that you'd ever do it. You wait an hour or so before going into the bedroom and falling asleep.

In an attempt to clear the air you make breakfast the next morning. Javi appears from the front door, he’d been down to the beach early in an attempt to get you out of his head. He sits down at the bar furiously trying to get his lighter to start up. He sees your hand appear, not looking up he hands you the lighter and lets you pluck the cigarette from his mouth lighting it up in one, before offering it back to him. A moment later a delicious looking breakfast appears beneath him finally causing him to look up.

“Look, I took it too far last night and i'm sorry if I said...” you start

“Save it” Javi says, tucking into the food before him “nothing to apologize for if you were telling the truth.” the use of the word ‘if’ irks you the wrong way, but you let it slide. “besides, it's not like it matters, I only put work in for the women who actually want me”

“Fair enough” you say snorting, causing him to look to you again

“What?” he asks, trying to maintain his scowl, but failing upon hearing the unrefined sound come out of you.

“Your bedside manner never fails to delight me” you say cleaning up the dishes “i'll take this as im forgiven” you nod to the plate that was now empty.

“For what? No offense sweetheart, I don’t take much stock in others' opinions of me.” You did admire that about him, he really didn’t care what others thought about him. You marked that down as his good quality for the day.

#not a piece of art #part 3 #smut #javier pena x reader #javier peña x you #javi x reader #agent peña x you #narcos fanfic #javi x y/n

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itskateak · 3 years

Text

Mint Ice Cream & Bubblegum Kisses - Chapter Four

(Bucky Barnes X Single Dad!Reader)

Series Summary: Y/N L/N works as an intel specialist at the Avenger’s Compound. He scans chatter on the international - and intergalactic - level for any information that might be helpful to the Avengers and other agents. But he’s also a single father to a beautiful eight-year-old girl: Angelica L/N. It’s tough raising a little girl on his own and working a full-time job, but he’s managing. A promotion has him launched up in rank at the Compound, leading him to work directly with the Avengers team. The only problem is it’s a 24/7 job. Life around the compound gets a little strange when his daughter is added to the mix of enhanced humans and ex-assassins.

Chapter Summary: Rumors had always surrounded Bucky Barnes. A very early morning has Y/N thinking that every single one of them are wrong.

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: Meet-cute, fluff, unwanted romantic advances (again), minor language, Bucky being a little self-loathing

A/N: I wish y'all could've seen what happened in the middle of revising this - we got a 5.1 earthquake out of nowhere that jolted the house pretty good and in my rush to pick up my glass (and not move from the couch because screw that, I'm lazy and mother nature would have to throw me off the couch herself like that guy in the bathtub on Nov. 30th, 2018 - which, by the way, who is just soaking in the bathtub at 8:30 AM???), I slapped the keyboard. Oops. And then we got two more in the next two minutes.

Masterlist

Taglist is open! Drop a note in my messages, inbox, or leave a comment to be added!

If I can’t tag you, I will personally message you when a new chapter comes out so you don’t miss it!

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Y/N sank into his desk chair, sleep hanging at the corner of his eyes. He almost had hit his alarm and gone back to bed, but since Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes were returning from a mission, he forced himself out of bed. They'd have information for him to add to the system that could be urgent. So, here he was, half-awake and booting up his computer.

He hadn't even had his caffeine this morning so his personality had yet to catch up. He was just a walking, mumbling shell of Y/N until his brain woke up entirely. That could take ten minutes, or it could take two hours.

A knock on the door made him look up and blink to see who was in his doorway. The hall outside was still dark and his office wasn't very bright either so it was a little difficult to see.

Steve smiled in greeting and leaned against the doorframe. He was still in his tactical gear, a bloody scratch on his cheek proving that he'd come straight from the helicarrier. "Hey, Y/N. You're up bright and early."

"Well, you two decided to come back before even the roosters are awake, so...here I am. Just in case you guys had sensitive intel for me." Y/N tiredly smiled in return.

"Ah. Buck's the one who gathered most of the intel. He wanted to shower first since he was, in his words, sweatier than a sinner in a church and smellier than a nightclub on Wednesdays." Steve shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder if he's okay when he says stuff like that."

"A...nightclub on...Wednesdays?" Y/N asked, head tilted curiously.

"Apparently, Wednesdays were some of the busiest nights back in the day at the clubs he used to go to. Packed with people. We didn't really use deodorant in that time...so, it smelled pretty bad after a while." Steve explained. "Anyway, I came by to ask you a very important question."

"What's up?"

"What is your favorite caffeinated drink?"

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Y/N didn't realize he had fallen asleep on his desk until someone had carefully placed a cup next to him. He turned his head as he woke up, leaning his cheek against his arm. He blinked awake, noticing the mug.

"Bless you, you beautiful, beautiful person." He mumbled sleepily, straightening up and taking the warm drink gratefully.

"An apology for making you get up really early and somethin' to get you movin'." The person said with a soft voice. "Steve told me that was your favorite."

Y/N looked up at them and paused. He was tall - but that may have been the vantage point - and had wide shoulders. His eyes were a glittering blue and filled with friendliness. He gave a lopsided smile.

"I'm Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone just calls me Bucky."

"Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you. And thanks for the drink." Y/N extended his hand to greet Bucky. "So, what do you have for me?"

Bucky set a small stack of old files on the corner of the desk before sitting down on the couch pressed against the wall meant for visitors. He laid his ankle on his knee, leaning back and lounging against the couch. He hitched his chin towards the dusty files.

"Grabbed them from the Hydra base we raided. Not sure what all is in there but it seemed pretty important given how it was locked in a safe within a safe, behind a vaulted door and guarded by people armed to the teeth." Bucky explained then sighed deeply, his head falling back against the top of the seat. He stared at the ceiling, shaking his head slightly.

"Sounds crazy. You okay?" Y/N swiveled in his chair to face Bucky, tilting his head slightly. He warmed his hands with the drink he'd been brought, taking slow sips periodically to avoid burning his tongue.

"Yeah, just tired and glad to be back." Bucky picked his head back up and brushed his hair back out of his face. It was obvious he had just gotten out of the shower not too long ago, his hair still damp and starting to curl up.

"Did you get hurt?" Y/N asked, concerned. From the looks of Steve, the mission had been rough on them. They'd been gone for almost two weeks.

"Nothin' major. Few scratches and bruises. Maybe a pinched nerve or muscle in my knee, but Bruce isn't awake yet to get it checked out." Bucky gestured with his head to his left knee before shrugging. "How're you settling in? I heard about Stark's smooth promotion offer."

"Oh, yeah...that scared the shit out of me. Everything's working out well. A little strange being my own boss, really, but it feels great. I know Angelica's having a blast with the fact there's a pool downstairs and she's surrounded by some pretty cool people." Y/N shook his head fondly. "New office, new room, new environment. It's different...but good."

"That's how I felt when I first moved here. Though, everyone wasn't as welcoming...and they had every right not to trust me." Bucky looked at the floor, expression faltering. "I'm...not the easiest to get along with somedays."

"I think we're getting along just fine." Y/N gave him a friendly smile. "I might be biased since you brought me my favorite drink."

Bucky laughed then, a warm sound that filled the space, and the corners of his eyes crinkled up. "So you figured out my plan. Bribe you into likin' me."

"Don't think you have to bribe me very much." Y/N broke into laughter, too, happy to see a smile back on Bucky's face. "You should get some food and get some rest if you can."

"I won't be able to sleep until later. Too wired still and probably will be for most of the morning."

"Maybe Wanda will make some tea for you." Y/N set his cup down. "My daughter doesn't know that you two were coming back this morning. She can be very hyperactive and excited when meeting new people. I didn't want you to come back from a mission and possibly be in a bad state of mind only to be met with a kid who wants to ask you rapid-fire questions for an hour."

"I appreciate that. I won't be against meeting her this afternoon. It's a Monday, right?" Bucky glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost five in the morning. "Yeah. Sometime this afternoon, if you want me to swing by and meet her, just let me know."

"Of course. Thanks, again, for the drink. I'll get to these files soon." Y/N smiled, waving his hand vaguely at the stack of files.

"No problem. I'll get out of your way and leave you to it. Nice to meet you, Y/N. Happy to have you on the team." Bucky stood raised his arms above his head in a stretch. "Oh, and if you need translating or cracking the codes, let me know and I'll help with what I can. See you around, Y/N."

"See you, Bucky." Y/N watched him walk past the glass front of his office and down the hall. All the rumors he'd heard about Bucky being gruff and cold to everyone he meets seemed to be untrue. He already liked the ex-assassin, despite only knowing him for ten minutes total. His rough exterior was offset by his kindness and concern for others.

Y/N pulled the top file and opened it. He sighed. It was all in Russian. Luckily, he could scan the documents into the computer and a program would translate them all out. The only thing he'd need to do afterward would be to create a decoder for the system Hydra used. He shook his mouse to wake his computer.

This was similar tedious work to what he'd used to do, but at least he could wear what he wanted and play music out loud without disturbing anyone. And his daughter could come in and out whenever she wanted when she was tearing around like the little gremlin she was.

With a wayward glance at the clock, he stood and started scanning the documents.

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Angelica came running into Y/N's office after school had gotten out, her backpack thrown on the floor near the couch. She flopped onto it on her back, limbs sprawled out, groaning loudly.

"Well, hello to you, too." Y/N said, glancing up from his computer to look at his daughter. "How was school?"

"Boring. Like usual." She whined, throwing her arms out but nearly falling off the couch in the process. She squealed and steadied herself. "I wish we did harder math things or read more interesting things."

"Can't be as boring as what I've been doing." Y/N teased, scrolling through the newly translated documents. He was still scanning the files that Bucky had brought that morning and he had yet to start cracking the codes that HYDRA used. "I have at least thirty-eight papercuts on my hands now."

"Whatcha looking at?" Angelica rolled off the couch and moved to see his computer screens. He switched tabs quickly to a google home page. "Papaaa."

"It could be sensitive content, Angel. Can't show you that. And I have no idea what kind of content is in there. Some of it might not be suitable for you." Y/N picked her up and settled her on his lap, an arm around her waist. She leaned back against him, leaning her head against his. "I could take a break and we can watch some YouTube."

"Ooh! Can we watch some dog videos?" She asked, excited.

"Whatever you want, kiddo." He leaned forward and brought up YouTube, typing in a search for funny dog videos. "We can have a fifteen-minute break before I should get back to work and you should start on homework."

"Don't ruin this for me." Angelica groaned, lighting kicking his shin. "Ooh! The first one looks adorable. Look at his little paws!"

Y/N grinned and clicked on the video, turning up the volume. Her giggles and laughter always brightened his day. He watched a puppy stumble and tip a water dish over. Everyone needed a puppy break in the middle of the day and it was definitely needed after the very early morning.

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"Oh, wow. This is fancy. You sure moved up in the world." Kiera's voice startled Y/N and he looked up from his notes.

"Oh, hi! Come in, Kiera." Y/N minimized the tabs on his screens and closed his notebook. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I have a few files from our department that are directly related to a mission that's coming up that they want you to look at." She said, holding up two folders.

"I've not been told of any mission but let me see what's up." He held his hand out and she crossed his office to pass the files over. He opened the top one and scanned over the words. "I'll have to talk to Tony or Steve to see what this is about, but this seems pretty important."

"The boss man wanted me to run it up here as soon as it was compiled. Are you sure you don't know what it's about?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"They might've told me and I just forgot. It's been a crazy few days with Natasha and Sam prepping to leave for a mission tonight and the intel I had to send to the Guardians." Y/N set the files down on his desk.

"So, how's it feel to be in the elite club?" Kiera sat down on the couch, crossing her legs. She was wearing a pencil skirt and heels, which he didn't actually pay attention to after doing a quick scan over her.

"I had to get up at like...three-thirty this morning because Rogers and Barnes decided to return from a mission with sensitive files at four." Y/N buzzed his lips, leaning back in his chair. "Rogers stopped by first to say hi and tell me Barnes had all the files."

"Sergeant Barnes makes me...uncomfortable sometimes. He's really quiet in meetings and always looks like he's angry or doesn't want to be there." Kiera pursed her lips. "And whenever he talks, he's really short and gruff. He just seems really cold and unapproachable. Did you have to deal with him alone?"

"He brought me my favorite drink, apologized for making me get up so early, and asked how I was settling in. He was nice and offered to help decode the files he'd brought." He shrugged, thinking back on their conversation that morning. "He was really friendly and open. I think he just isn't comfortable around strangers or large groups of people."

"Y/N, I'm worried about you and Angelica. What if he tries to hurt either of you? I know they say he's stable but is he really? What if he just snaps one day and turns back into the Winter Soldier?" Kiera stood and crossed to him, sitting on the edge of his desk.

Y/N arched a brow slightly as she laid a hand on his shoulder, her thumb rubbing in a circle over the fabric of his shirt. "Kiera, why are you even bringing this up? If there was even the possibility of him being a threat to anyone, especially Angelica, they wouldn't have let us move in here or he would still be in Wakanda."

"All I'm saying is that you should be careful, okay? I don't think you should get too close to him. I don't want to see you get hurt and I really don't want to see Angelica get hurt." Kiera said. She didn't even know Bucky other than what she's heard through rumors or the news, so why was she pushing this so much? In his eight-minute conversation with Bucky that morning, he'd already dismissed all the rumors and other experiences people had told him about because of how open and friendly he'd been.

"Kiera," He started, voice low and stern. "If I had any concerns about Bucky, I would speak to him directly about it. Talking about him behind his back and perpetuating rumors only hurts his reputation and the way people view him. He knows people don't trust him and feels that it's rightfully deserved."

"Just...be careful, okay? That's all I'm asking. I just fear for Angelica." Kiera said quietly.

"Oh, uh...I'll just...come back in a few minutes." A voice made them both turn and Y/N shrugged Kiera's hand off his shoulder. Bucky was standing awkwardly in the doorway, a hand raised to knock on the door.

"No, come on in, Bucky." Y/N flashed him a warm smile and gave a side-eyed glance at the woman still hovering near him. "Kiera was just leaving." He said through his teeth.

"The boss will want me back in my little cubicle." She stood and walked past Bucky without sparing a glance at him and paused in the doorway. "I'll see you Wednesday night." She winked and smiled before sauntering down the hall.

"Did I interrupt something?" Bucky avoided eye contact, looking at the pictures on the wall instead as he moved further into the office. He looked awkward, his arms hanging limply at his sides. Y/N wondered if he overheard their conversation.

"She was just bringing files relating to a mission coming up that I may or may not have been told about." Y/N turned back to his computer, opening his tabs and notebook again. Bucky could see the intel and he didn't have to worry about the confidential issue.

"Seemed a little more friendly than that." Bucky snorted, sitting down on the couch, and immediately sinking into it. He was relaxing with every passing second. "Wednesday, huh?"

"I have absolutely no idea what she was talking about. The only plan I have Wednesday night is to go to the library after getting ice cream at Pop's Shoppe with Angelica like we do every Wednesday night." Y/N said, looking at him with an open expression of honesty.

"Sounded like a date to me." Bucky threw an arm over the back of the couch, his ankle resting on his knee. "Nothin' wrong with that if it was."

"She's just a friend." Y/N sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I should clear that up with her in case she got the wrong impression."

"I don't think you called me down here to talk about your workplace drama, though." Bucky gave him a lopsided smile, head tilted slightly. Any awkwardness or discomfort was gone. "What's up?"

"Need your help deciphering the codes. I've identified four different codes they use but I can't figure out what they mean." Y/N pressed his lips together in frustration. "I've written each of them down."

"Got a pen?" Bucky sat up, hand extended.

"Yeah. Here's the notebook, too." Y/N passed them to him, noticing that he didn't hesitate with reaching out with his metal arm. Not that he minded the metal prosthetic in the first place. "While you work on that, I can look over the files Kiera brought."

"She seems nice. Seen her in a couple of briefings. Knows what she's talking about and is really good at her job." Bucky said, eyes scanning the notebook as he wrote. "Not a bad choice, honestly."

"She is nice, but not my type." Y/N responded, opening one of the new files, ignoring the flush rising on his face. He was so embarrassed for absolutely no reason.

"Don't think she knows that." Bucky snorted before muttering something in Russian under his breath. He glanced up for a moment. "Maybe you should make it clear to her."

"Last week I used going to Operations Control - even though I was actually going to Accounting - as an excuse to leave just to stop her from asking me to dinner because I didn't want to turn her down." He admitted, keeping his gaze on the papers as his face warming up even more.

"Just let her down easy. Tell her you think she's nice but you aren't interested in a romantic relationship with her." Bucky suggested with a shrug.

A comfortable silence settled between them as they both worked on their respective tasks. Occasionally, there was a soft whirring of the computers as the fans turned on to cool them down or of Bucky's arm as he moved. It was because of this that they both heard the footsteps rushing toward the office.

"Papa, I finished my homework! Can you check my multiplication worksheet?" Angelica came dashing in, holding a folder to her chest, and smiling broadly.

"Inside voice, kiddo. Inside voice." Y/N looked up with a gently chastizing expression. "But, yes. I can check your math."

Angelica stopped with wide-eyes, actually noticing the man on the couch for the first time since she'd sprinted in. There went the plan of setting up a meeting time for Bucky and the ball of energy.

Bucky glanced up and gave her a quick smile that reminded Y/N of the one he gave to people when they held doors open for him. It was full of awkward friendliness and Y/N had sympathy for him.

"You're James Buchanan Barnes." She said in amazement, smiling broadly in return. She bounced on the balls of her feet, barely containing her enthusiasm.

"Uh, yep. That's my name, but you really don't need to call me James or Barnes or whatever. Just Bucky works." He tucked a strand of hair that had fallen into his vision behind his ear. "And you're..?"

"Angelica. Kiddo, you can barrage Bucky with questions here in a second but I need your math homework if you want me to check it." Y/N chuckled. His daughter snapped out of her daze and rushed to hand her folder to him. She then skipped over to the couch and flopped down next to him.

"Whatcha working on?" She asked in her adorable way, her head tilted.

"Code cracking for your dad." Bucky hummed, shifting so he wasn't so closed off.

"Is it fun?"

"Sort of. I'm tired so I'm not exactly at a functioning level." He bounced his foot slightly. "I think you're the only person I've met who has been starstruck and knew my actual name."

"I did a project last month about you for history. That lesson was the only one that was not boring." Angelica swung her legs. "I think you're pretty cool."

"Oh," Bucky said, looking at the notebook. "Uh, thanks."

Y/N glanced up from the multiplication problems to see a blush spreading across the badass Winter Soldier's face. He smiled secretly and returned to the multiplication, scanning just to be sure his math whiz of a kid hadn't missed anything in her speed demon functions.

"Everyone else wanted to do projects on Natasha or Steve or Wanda and no one wanted to do a project on you. Made me mad 'cause they had all these ideas about you that were, like, not at all true but they didn't know that 'cause they jus' listened to their parents and didn't take ten minutes to think for themselfs." Angelica glared at the floor in her very childlike stern manner. "There's a reason you're a hero but they wouldn't know that 'cause all they'd heard was that you were a bad guy. So someone had to tell them otherwise."

"Alright, kiddo. This all looks correct. Good job." Y/N tucked the papers back into her folder and set his pen aside. She hopped off the couch and took her folder back with a smile. "Bucky and I need to get back to work, so you'll have to scram, okay?"

"Wanda said she'd teach me how to make some food from her homeland when I was done with my homework," Angelica told him.

"You remember the rules?"

"Yep!"

"Then scram. Have fun." Y/N gently shoved her shoulder and she giggled.

"Bye, Bucky! See you later!" Angelica said, pausing at the door to give him a wave.

"See ya around, sweetie." He waved back with a friendly smile before she took off running down the hall again. "She is quite the ball of energy."

"You have no idea." Y/N laughed, picking the file back up. "She didn't make you uncomfortable or anything, right? She tends to get loud and talkative when she's super excited."

"No, no. It was cute. I've...never really had someone act like that the first time I've met them. Usually, they're all wary and distrustful like I'm some feral dog that has to be danced around." Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. His lips were pressed into a firm line and he glared at the notebook.

"You know, when she did that project on you, she wouldn't stop talking about you for weeks. I've seen her get passionate about things before, but for some reason, she was extra determined to prove to everyone that you're a good guy now." Y/N smiled fondly. "She likes seeing the good in people. Always have, and probably always will."

"I think she takes after you on that one," Bucky mumbled under his breath. "This should let you decode the information. They mixed codes a lot just to be extra sure no one could sell the intel."

Y/N took his notebook and pen back with a nod. "Thanks. This will help a ton."

Bucky stood, wincing slightly as his knee popped. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"Oh, I have a deal proposition before you go." Y/N stopped him with a smirk.

"I'm listening." Bucky arched a brow.

"You bring my drink every morning and every time Angelica plans a prank on you or a prank that could affect you, I'll let you know. If she asks, just say it's a super-soldier superpower or something." Y/N offered with a mischievous grin. "We have a deal?"

"We have a deal." Bucky shook his hand.

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Taglist - @supernaturalwintersoldier @shadowolf993 @myybebe @pastel-boy-sungjae

#mint ice cream & bubblegum kisses #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky barnes x single dad!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #tw earthquake #i talk about it in the note at the beginning

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quietlyimplode · 4 years

Text

Whumptober2020 - Day 26 - Migraine

Masterlist

Tony has a migraine. It’s not a great day. 3/8

Tony realises that it’s not his fault, but it’s hard not be disappointed in his body and it’s failures. He expects more.

——-

Tony knows it’s going to be a shit day from the moment he wakes up. Maybe he slept funny, maybe it was something he ate the day before; he doesn’t care; his damn head won’t stop pounding.

He’s lucky that they’ve been relatively light on missions, thanks to Natasha, that he’s been able to catch up on work, on things he wants to do - but that doesn’t bode well for sleep. Late nights and early mornings don’t go so well but he has a business to run (kind of) and mind to occupy. Sometimes the ideas just don’t leave him be til he gets it out, or he’s terrified he will forget the idea. He pushes through. Peppers already left, answered his late night note on the table with some kisses and a ‘see you tomorrow’, he picks it up and has to really concentrate to read it. He’s glad that she’s not here to see him suffer, knows that this is going to turn into something.. Not good.

He doesn’t have time for a migraine. He’s got shit to do and they’re just inconvenient. He heads to the shower and runs the hardest water pressure he can. Comes out and feels marginally better, taking some painkillers and eating a banana; he gets changed slowly.

Heads to the workshop and waves his hand when Friday asks if he’s ok.

He’s not; but he’s sorta functional. Just needs to do some things and then he’ll go sleep it off.

It’s around midday, he realises that the painkiller took the edge off and he hasn’t topped them up. It’s coming back with a vengeance, and he feels it’s too late to top up without taking something significant. Tony re-ups anyway. He’s nauseous, realises he took them on an empty stomach and looks around for something, anything that will line his stomach and help contain the saliva that’s looking in his mouth.

He does not feel good.

He sits for a minute, gathering himself, if only his head would stop hurting, he might be able to think straight.

He runs through his checklist of his usual protocols, it’s all he can do to list them off. He’s had a shower, eaten a banana. Hasn’t tried caffeine yet or icing his head. One step at a time. He can do this.

“Friday.” He calls holding onto the wall next to the elevator, “turn the lights off.” He’s pleased to find all the lights turned nearly off but enough to find his way.

Movement is not his friend.

Heading to the communal kitchen, feels as though it takes a year; he finds Steve making lunch. Murmurs a hello, gathers some supplies and leaves. It’s so bright in there. He grabbed two ice packs and put them on his head, puts the Ironman helmet over it to hold them in place. Opens the faceplate and sucks down some iced coffee. The milk lines his stomach and the caffeine takes the edge off. He’s not sure if it’s the combination of the ice, caffeine and painkillers but he feels marginally better. Staving it off rather than let it ravaged him full bore.

He’s just going to lay down, just for a minute.

He wakes when it’s dark, rolls over and regrets whatever position he was in, he’s still got the helmet on with the ice inside. Oh right, his head. It’s better. Not 100% but he’s far more functional now at, looks at his watch, fucking 2am, than he was at midday yesterday. He’s slept for just over 13 hours. Ugh. He’s wasted the day. Tony realises that it’s not his fault, but it’s hard not be disappointed in his body and it’s failures. He expects more.

Wonders if he can get some work done, he decides on a hour of work and then bed, asks Friday to give him 10 minute warnings to finish up, just as Natasha had suggested. It had seemed dumb at first, but it’d actually helped pull him away, knowing the expectation that he needed to finish up and change activities.

At 2.50 he’s just getting in his groove, he’s reprogrammed a drone and managed to get it to be invisible when the alarm goes off. Asks Friday to wait 5 minutes which goes far too quick.

Begrudgingly, he packs away his work and has the drone fly with him as he heads for his room. All at once, the lights go; everything goes. There’s no light, no sound and even Friday is non responsive which is impossible, unless.. someone’s cut the hard wires, sent an EMP.

“Friday?” He calls.

Shit, there’s nothing.

He turns the corner and turns back straight away, there’s people inside the tower. There’s infiltrators in his home, and they’re approaching; there’s 5 of them in plain white masks, and they all have guns pointed straight at him. The drone transforms quickly into a suit surrounding and protecting him. They’ve heard it and open fire on his location, he’s lucky that the suit is surrounding him faster than the bullets are flying at him; he lets off two blasts taking down 4 of the five, the last one runs at him; before any other tricks are pulled, Tony knocks him out; hard.

“What the fuck.” He says to no one in particular. He reaches for his phone, and then realizes, it’s not going to work, everything is fried. He’s lucky that his suit runs on nanotech and not electricity. He hears what sounds like a controlled explosion coming from above.

Fuck, that’s Natasha’s area. He pieces it together as he heads for the floor.

They’re here for her.

——-

#whumptober2020 #day 26 #migraine #avengers fic #tony stark #ironman

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blackssuunn-mandoandyodito · 4 years

Text

Tabaco y Brea

A Javier Peña fanfic

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Warnings: slight angst, slight fluff, sweating?, swearing, running?, somebody needs to explain this to me please.

Word count: 2.5 k

A/N: alright friends, this is the first chapter of a series I’m working on. As you can see, it’s called Tabaco y Brea. If you have any questions, hit me up. I hope you like this, enjoy!

Chapter 1: Stuffy basement

Bogotá was a sight that you had yet to stop being amazed at. Walking through its streets for the first time all those months ago almost brought tears to your eyes. Growing up in the United States and thinking that you may never get out of there gave you little to no reference in this country's culture, although your father being Mexican helped you master Spanish and he showed your way to dance. Early 1981 was not a great year to be in Colombia, but you were here as a DEA agent after all, not as a tourist. You could feel things getting bigger, and you weren't sure how you'll be able to handle it.

As you kept walking, you asked yourself the same question of your everyday life. Why the fuck did you choose to live so far away from the Embassy?

(You knew the answer, but it didn’t make mornings easier)

The heat made your clothes cling to you with sweat, your hair even in a ponytail was soaked and the headache was just getting stronger the more you walked through the avenue.

And you were late, dammit!

Your heels could be heard as you started to run to catch the bus, gripping your purse as if life depended on it. With the amount of money they paid you, you could easily afford a car, but attracting that much attention wasn't a great idea. You still couldn't understand how the narcos hadn't managed to get your information.

The bus was already at the bus stop when you turned the corner, and you didn't know if you could make it.

"Ey! Ey! Esperen!" (Hey! Hey! Wait!) You started waving your hand towards it, seeing that the last person in line was hopping on. The driver, thankfully, saw you and waited. You started running faster and finally climbed the stairs. It was packed.

Well, it seemed that you'd go standing.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You seriously didn't think you could get more soaked from the heat, sweat even more than you already were.

You were wrong.

When you got to the Embassy, the entire back of your shirt was plastered to your body. Your thighs were starting to get grazed because of your skirt and your hair was all frizzy and probably resembled a nest of birds.

You took a deep breath, tried to fix your hair a little bit, and pushed the door. Nobody even glanced at you, and you were glad. If anybody dared to even look at you funny, you were going to lose it.

"Ey compañera. Mala mañana?" (Hey partner. Bad morning?)

Oh, just what you needed.

"¿Qué quieres Peña?" (What do you want Peña?) you rolled your eyes at him. He didn't look much better than you anyway. His pink shirt was sticking to his chest, even though he had several buttons open, letting you see his wet neck. His face was sweaty too, with rosy cheeks and his hair sticking to his forehead.

You arched your eyebrow. "No tienes mucho mejor aspecto que yo Javier" (You don’t look much better than I do Javier)

He gave a soft laugh, the idiot. You weren't in the best of moods to handle him, so you turned around and walked to your desk, then sat down with a grump.

"Vamos nena, alégrate un poco" (Come on baby, lighten up a little) you glared at him and started reading through the papers you had to check today. It was usually yours and Javier's, that asshole didn't do any of his own paperwork and you were stuck doing both almost all the time. Carina had given you a weird stare the first time you were ranting about it to her, but you were sure you didn't want to know what she was thinking. It was nothing that you didn't know anyways.

Once he realized you were definitely not in the mood for your usual banter, he stopped and sat down in his desk,at the right from yours. Silence (or as much silence as an office can have) settled and the sounds of sheets of paper turning and Javi working with his typewriter slowly calmed you and helped you concentrate with what you were reading. The fan that barely provided you of fresh air at least served as background noise for the amount of stuff that your mind was processing, and it even cooled you down a little bit. The headache was gone and so was the bad mood. After some time had passed and you weren't sweating as much as before, you asked yourself what on Earth was Javi doing if you had his paperwork at your desk.

"Hey Javi, what are you doing? At least have the decency to offer help!" you said as he turned to look at you. He smiled, noticing your mood improvement. Pulling his chair with him, he crossed the little space between your desks and opened the folder that he had been looking at.

"There's the Bera I know" You tried to hide a smile at the nickname. "I got some intel that could help us with this bullshit"

His voice, all business know, gave you a sense of peace. Even if he was a little shit most of the time, he was the only one who had been with you since you arrived back in 1979. He didn't have much more experience than you back then, had only been in Colombia for a couple of months himself, but he knew his way around better than you. He taught you the things you didn't know, and if neither of you did then you figured them out together.

"And what is that intel, agent Peña?" you teased him. You weren't oblivious to his ways of fishing out info, of course. He smacked you lightly in the arm and showed you the papers.

"A cottage on the outside of Cali seems to be a type of safehouse for Escobar's merca," he says while pointing at the pictures that were inside the folder "if this is true, we need to do a raid soon, but we have to make sure the intel is right before we take that risk"

The cottage was small, nobody would pay attention to it if they were walking past. It looked like an abandoned house, and you knew that was exactly what Escobar's men were hoping for. Although you were surprised they were stupid enough to have something even remotely close to a city, that didn't sound right.

You nod, "so that means...?"

He looks at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"That means we need to stay for a few days in Cali, nena"

You have to grip your chair to physically restrain yourself from jumping of happiness. You loved Cali, the very few occasions you had free time you took a bus there (9 hours and all) and spent the nights in the dancing clubs. Cali gave you a sense of love and alleviated the homesick feeling that had been nagging you for years. It reminded you of your father even if this wasn't his country.

"Are you serious? Don't play with me Javi" he nodded.

"You know I don't play with this shit", his voice sounded serious, almost offended.

He knew how much you enjoyed being there, but you also knew he took his work very seriously. In both cases, you doubted he would joke about something like that, but it was almost too good to be true to believe it that easily.

You started to plan things in your head. Where would you stay? Close to the cottage? Close to downtown Cali? Would you have any free time to enjoy the pleasures of Cali nights? You hoped so because if not you were going to explode.

"So when do we leave then?" you look him in the eyes, a grin spread big on your face.

"It depends", your smile fell. "We have to welcome the new gringo, remember?"

Ugh, yes. You forgot about that.

"So when does he arrive?"

Javi shrugged. "I'm not sure, but it will be this or the next week."

You weren't sure if bringing someone else to this shitshow was a good idea. Enough lives have been lost to this war, and you didn't see the point of putting at risk another one.

"Will we take him with us?"

“He's not very good with Spanish"

Your smile returned, this time for entirely different reasons. "So we're gonna have some fun with him?"

Javi looked at you, amusement in his eyes. He shook his head.

"I don't think that's a good idea muñeca, he's coming with his wife" (doll)

You got the message, even if he didn't say it out loud. He has a family, something to lose. You don't, not really. Besides your own lives, that is. If you want to play Russian roulette with them, it's your problem. But the new guy had someone to come back to.

So, helping the gringo it was.

"What's his name again?" you ask. You had read about him a few weeks back when they told you he was coming. But you didn't even remember he was coming, much less were you going to remember his name.

"Steve Murphy" Oh yeah, it sounded familiar now. "He did his training directly at Quantico, so he must be good"

That you remembered. He was one of those guys who spent the 18 weeks (although you knew they were only 13 if you did it there) of DEA training in Quantico, inside the U.S. Marine Corps Base and next to the FBI academy. They weren't common here, you and Javi had done it elsewhere.

"So after we pick him up, we plan this shit out, right?"

Javi nodded. "I hope so"

He went back to his desk and you kept going through the paperwork. It was not an easy task, but that one time you made Javier do his own, he had taken so much time to do it that you passed the deadline and the boss ripped you both a new one. After that, you did a silent agreement where you did it all, Javier providing all info necessary and taking the blame if anything was wrong, even if it didn't happen frequently. He'd bring you Colombian coffee when the weather wasn't as hot as now, he knew you didn't like the one at the office and thought it "tasted like dirt", he would listen to you rant about certain reports and say whatever he thought you needed to hear in those moments.

You enjoyed spending your time with him, even if most of it you were arguing about something.

The day passed rather quickly, with so much to do you didn't even have time to glance at your watch or even the clock hanging in the opposite wall.

Soon, it was time to leave again, but you hadn't finished your work and it was due to a couple of days. You hated doing things just before delivery time, so you decided you were going to stay and work some more. It wasn't like someone was waiting for you anyways.

Half of the work was done, so you weren't going to stay much. Just enough so you could go back and finish tomorrow.

"Ey compañera, hora de irnos" (Hey partner, time to go) Javier sounded tired, and you figured trying to find leads and speaking all day with your superiors was exhausting too. You hated doing the calls, so he took that one for both of you.

"No me iré Javi, debo avanzar un poco con esto" (I won’t leave Javi, I need to get ahead with this) He frowned at you, with his beige jacket already in his hands. You figured you looked tired too, all day reading was doing an impact in your eyes.

"What do you mean you're not leaving? You just spent 12 hours doing paperwork, you need to rest"

You sighed. He was right, you knew that, but you wouldn't be able to finish if you didn't stay.

Seeing he wasn't going to get an answer because you were stubborn and ignored him if you had already made a decision, he hung up his jacket again and pulled his chair close to your desk. Then, glaring at you, he sat down and propped his elbows in the table, letting his face fall between his hands.

A few minutes passed, and you were starting to get uneasy under the power of his stare.

"Javi? What are you doing?"

He didn't answer.

"What?" you asked, defensively. "Do I have something on my face?"

He shook his head, still not saying anything.

"Javier!"

He started laughing at your bothered yell, finally releasing you from the pinned look he was giving you. You let out a frustrated sigh, understanding what were his intentions.

"You're gonna glare me into leaving, aren't you?"

His nod was your only answer, accompanied by a grin spread across his face.

The thing about your relationship was that even if you fought almost every day for the stupidest things, he took care of you. He made sure you got rest, ate decent food, got home safe. He protected you in the raids, even if you weren't his main focus. And you did your best to take care of him too, but he wouldn't let you.

At least not like you wanted.

He would go almost every weekend to search for the love you were so willing to provide for him in other women, in his so-called informants. And it hurt you, more than anything else.

You smiled at him.

"Let's go"

He smiled too, standing up. You saved your files in one of the drawers, took your coat, and rounded your desk.

Out of the office, everything was silent. The sun had already set, leaving you at the darkness of the night. You checked your watch. It was...11 PM already, damn. You didn't know it was that late.

"I'll drop you off at your home", his voice was soft.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. Everything with Javi was difficult at night. You were looser because of the tiredness, fed up with everything. You wished to be between his arms, it was the only thing you asked for. But you knew you couldn't.

Both of you climbed into his Jeep, and he drove off to your apartment.

"Why did you choose to live far from the Embassy anyways?"

He had asked the same question a thousand times before, and it was always the same answer. He never looked at you when he said it, his attention straight out the windshield. You couldn't figure out why he kept doing it, no matter how much you tried, no matter how much time you spent thinking about it.

"I wanted to get to know Colombia, not just the stuffy low-rise bunker in the basement of the U.S. embassy."

Once you got to the apartment complex, he parked his car and stretched to open your door.

"Good night compañera" (partner)

You smiled in response, took your purse and jumped out of the car. Feeling his stare boring into your back as you walked to the door, you got out your keys and turned around.

Once you waved him goodbye, he bowed his head and turned on the engine leaving with a creak of tires.

"Good night Javi"

Tag list: @dynphomaniac

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier peña x you #pedro pascal x you #narcos #narcos fanfic #reader insert #pedro pascal fanfiction #tagging is hard #my writing #tabaco y brea

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immortalbarnes · 4 years

Text

A Cabin For Two | Chapter 2: Space Oddity

Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: Sam visits for training, then Bucky retells a mission you went on under Hydra

warnings: some swearing and mentions of torture and violence

A/N: sorry this took so long! I had some writers block :/ also I'd love to hear what y’all think so far!

bold italicized dialogue indicates flashback

Chapter 1

You woke up alone this morning. Rolling to your side, you’re greeted with cold sheets instead of the warm embrace of your partner. Sighing, you sleepily slip into some running shorts and a t-shirt and make your way to the kitchen, greeted to the smell of coffee and an omelette made just for you… but no Bucky. You prepare your coffee, thinking that he probably went for a run or something.

Suddenly, you hear a crashing sound coming from behind the house. Drawing up the blinds to the kitchen window, you find Bucky, alongside Sam and the infamous red, white, and blue shield stuck in the side of a tree.

“Sam! You gotta AIM!” Bucky scolds, but you can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

“Don’t make fun of me! This shit is tough.” Sam huffs as he tries to pull it out of the dense bark. Bucky walks over and gets it out with one tug, “Oh fuck off!” Sam yells.

Laughing you watch them toss the weapon back and forth like a frisbee, laughing like they are children. You pull out your phone and call Steve.

“Ground Control to Major Tom.” You say when he picks up.

“You’ve been listening to the Bowie record I gave you!” Steve merrily replies.

“Sure have. Anyways, I just wanted to call and see how you’re doing. I’m currently watching Sam and Bucky toss your shield around like a frisbee.”

“Sam’s shield,” He corrects, “I gave it to him. I’m glad to hear he’s working with it.”

“He’s getting better, but doesn’t have the toss down yet.”

“Tell him it’s all in the wrist. Maybe go show him how it’s done.”

“Will do.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Steve.”

Taking your steaming mug, you open the back door and greet the two men outside.

“Mornin’ boys!”

“Y/N!” Sam stops right before he’s about to throw the shield once again, “My favorite soldier!”

“Hey!” Bucky interjects.

“Shut up, show off,” Sam pouts, “she doesn’t throw the shield like a damn boomerang around me to flex.”

“Oh… like this?” You take the disc from his hand, and with grace toss it to the air, just for it to fly off and perfectly return in your hand.

“What the FUCK.” Sam nearly screams.

“It’s all in the wrist.” You wink.

Bucky comes from behind and wraps his arms around your waist. “That’s my girl,” he brags and plants a kiss on your right cheek, “How’d ya sleep doll?” His voice isn’t gravelly, so they must’ve started working early this morning.

“Great until I woke up alone.” You pout, so he peppers you with more kisses.

“Sorry, sugar, but Sam needs the practice.”

“Fuck you!” Sam yells, “Either you two get a room, or help me out.”

“I’ll let y’all get back to it,” you say, “Sam, want to join us for lunch? I can make brisket sandwiches.”

“And this is why you’re my favorite.”

…

The two of them had been training all day, and while you watched for a while, you eventually resided on the living room couch with a book and Alpine curled next to you. Your record player spinning the David Bowie record Steve gifted you. Around lunch, Bucky and Sam finally joined you inside, but you were so wrapped in the story you were reading to notice them, until Bucky started singing along to the song playing.

“This is Ground Control to Major Tom…”

Your ears perk up and you spin around, forearms resting on the back of your leather couch, watching him serenade Sam in the kitchen. Sam giving him a funny look as he sways towards the refrigerator to take out the leftover brisket,

“You’ve really made the grade…”

Smiling you hop over the couch and join the men in the tiled room and join Bucky in the song, and eventually Sam follows along.

“Though I'm past one hundred thousand miles

I'm feeling very still

And I think my spaceship knows which way to go”

Bucky places the tupperware of meat on the counter, spins to you, and cupping your face in his hands, he sings,

“Tell my wife I love her very much she knows

Ground Control to Major Tom”

The cool metal and warm flesh contrast on your cheeks, and you smile and hold them in place with your own. His face becomes everything that matters before he tilts his head and leans in for a kiss. His lips are slightly chapped, probably from all the laughing and talking he did with Sam that morning, and you still taste the coffee from that morning. You melt into his touch and move your hands into his sweaty hair. Eventually, you both pull away for air and press your foreheads together.

“Okay, that was cute, so I’m gonna let it slide, but where are those damn sandwiches!” Sam finally pipes up. You giggle as Bucky groans and turns back to the counter, opening the plastic container.

The three of you enjoy sloppy brisket on wheat bread with a beer for each, even though regular alcohol had no effect on you two, the taste brought a little bit of normalcy to your isolated life. (You had some Asgardian mead you saved for special nights.)

…

Sam left after lunch, claiming to have had enough of Bucky’s “bullshit.”

“Not my fault he doesn’t know how to throw a damn shield.” Bucky chuckles after The Falcon’s departure.

The afternoon was warm, so you decided to go swimming. There was a small pond on your property, which makes the best swimming pool. You change into a navy blue one piece, while Bucky is adorned in his red swim shorts which might just be a little too short. You had gotten them for him as a joke, you just wanted him to wear them once and show off his thighs, but he ended up loving them.

The two of you pack up a small bag of snacks and beer and make your way to your little middle-of-nowhere-New-York oasis. Bucky instantly runs off the small, rotting fishing dock from before you owned the property, and cannonballs into the blue-green water. Laughing, you set the bag down, slip off your sandals, and chase after him.

Wading the water in peace, Bucky finally raises his voice.

“Do you remember that mission in the Laptev Sea?”

“No.”

You and Bucky were on countless missions together under Hydra, so many that some Bucky remembered, but you couldn’t and vice versa. You don’t talk about missions under Hydra much, as they’re usually traumatic, but sometimes a memory that’s not too bitter arises in one of your minds.

“I don’t remember what we were doing, I think someone on the coast had threatened to leak intel, so we were there to take them out. We were on jet skis, but someone shot yours out and you fell into the water. I must’ve turned around to get you because I remember your hair looking wet and tousled, like now, and it snapped me out of Hydra mode for a second, and I kissed you,” He chuckles to himself, “Our overseers were so pissed. I got one hell of a beating after that.”

That’s the part of the memories you don’t like. The beatings. Bucky was easier to get snapped out of Winter Soldier mode and sometimes would risk the worst sessions of torture just to hold your hand during missions. Occasionally, he got away with it, but usually it ended in shocks, or waterboarding. The worst times is when they made you, your head still goop from Hydra brainwashing, beat and torture him yourself. Sometimes you get visions of his beaten form below you, bleeding and broken as you hold a baton. The faint words leaving his bleeding lips before he gets dragged back to the chair to get wiped once more,

“This is all worth it, doll, one day we’ll be safe.”

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice him swim over to you until his pruned flesh and metal hands are on your cheeks once more,

“And that kiss was worth it. No matter how much they could beat me, I would kiss you again and again.”

“But it wouldn’t be just them who beat you.”

Instead of answering, he puts his wet lips on yours. Your legs wrap around his waist as he keeps kicking underwater to keep the both of you afloat. You wrap your arms around his neck and close the extra space between your bodies.

The two of you swim and splash until sundown. After dinner and much needed showers, you cuddle in bed. He easily drifts asleep, but you have some trouble as you think of your past with Hydra. You did so many terrible things to him. How could he still love you?

Eventually you get a reassuring squeeze on your hips, it’s Bucky’s way of saying, “I can feel you’re not asleep, and you need to relax. You’re safe.”

You’re safe. And with that thought, you drift into unconsciousness.

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x y/n #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x reader #the falcon #sam wilson #Sam Wilson imagine

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steve-hairingtons · 4 years

Note

hi baby, happy holidays :) whenever you can, there’s no rush, would you be willing to write a steve x reader fluff where they’re friends and secretly in love and then at a christmas party they accidentally end up under the mistletoe? i’ve just been having a hard time and could really use fluffy blushy pining steve :) thank you so much doll xx

merry christmas and happy holidays to all those celebrating!

word count: 2k

WARNINGS: almost smut, but not anything to warn about, some alcohol use

It was a cold Christmas night in the quiet town of Hawkins, Indiana. But it was warm in the Buckley house. You stood in the living room with your small group of friends, a red solo cup filled with beer in your hand.

You weren’t much of a drinker, to be honest, and you hadn’t consumed very much of your drink. But that wasn’t to say you didn’t want to.

If you were being honest, tonight was hard. You were one of the only single people at the party that night, and one of the only single people you knew that would be spending the holidays alone.

It had always been like this. You’d only been in one relationship, and you never really minded until holidays like Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and New Year’s came around.

Sure, you’d had your first kiss, and you weren’t a virgin, but you’d only ever had one boyfriend.

But there was someone who had your eye: Steve Harrington, the host of the party. You guys had been best friends for four years. And, while you never had a significant other, you always had Steve, who was as close to one you’d ever had.

But you guys hadn’t hung out at all tonight. You were busy with Robin, who was throwing the party, and her girlfriend. She had Robin’s arm around her all night and it was like they were attached at the hip.

You sat next to them on the couch, talking with them and their other friends. That was when you caught Steve’s eye. You got up instantly, walking over to him quickly.

He smiled and ran his hand through his hair. You could instantly smell the beer on him, which overwhelmed you a bit.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was a bit slurred, leading you to believe he was tipsy.

“Hey.”

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you.”

“Hanging out with Robin and Jamie.”

“Ah.”

“How much have you had to drink?” you asked, noticing he was getting a bit unbalanced.

“Just five.”

“Just five? Well, it’s a good thing I can drive you home.”

“I don’t need you to do that.”

“And I don’t need to lose my best friend tonight because he was being a dumbass.”

He rolled his eyes. He gripped your hand and pulled you toward the laundry room and stopped when you were just outside the door.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

He looked up and your eyes followed, and you raised your eyebrows when you spotted it: Mistletoe. When you looked back at him, he was smiling.

“Well, you know the rules,” he said.

“Steve,” you said. “You’re drunk.”

“Ah, come on. You think I don’t know you’re in love with me the same way I’m in love with you?”

You didn’t even have time to comprehend what he said before his hand was cupping your face.

You shook your head, feeling your heart in your throat.

“Even if that was true, I’m not kissing you when you’re drunk. I would want you to do the same for me.”

“Y/N, this is the only time I’m gonna be ballsy enough to do this.”

“We can do this when you’re sober.”

“I don’t want to wait to do this when I’m sober. It’s just a kiss.”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to give up. And it shocked you to your core that he knew you were in love with him. You thought you’d been able to successfully keep that a secret.

But Steve knew everything about you. And you knew you had a habit of not being able to keep a secret when you were drunk, so you figured you must have told him one of those times.

“Fine. One kiss. Anything else is gonna have to happen when we’re both sober.”

“Are you saying you wanna do more?”

“Not necessarily. But if something does happen, neither of us is gonna be drunk when it does.”

“Deal.”

He pulled you in quickly, connecting your lips. You lightly gripped his hand, placing your other one on the nape of his neck. You kissed back, feeling his hand travel to your lower back.

You moaned lightly into the kiss before he pulled away, looking you in the eye.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for years.” That was when he kissed you once more. “Do you mind to drive me home?”

You shook your head and gulped. “No, not at all.”

“Hold on,” he said, opening the bathroom door right behind him. He leaned over the toilet and vomited, making you look away. When he finished, he grabbed the bottle of mouthwash on the sink and rinsed for a few seconds. When he turned to you, he said, “I really didn’t want to do that in your car.”

You pulled the covers over Steve’s body, sitting on the edge of the bed next to his hip. He was zoning in and out and you just looked at him.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he whispered.

“Now why would I waste my film on you?” you joked. He smiled and chuckled.

“Stay the night?” he asked, reaching over and gripping your hand.

“I told my parents I’d be home at midnight, and it’s…” You looked at his alarm clock. “One-thirty. They’d kill me.”

“You already missed your curfew. They’ll be fine if they knew you were here.”

You sighed. “I don’t have my birth control here.”

“You keep an extra pack in your drawer, remember?”

Steve gave you the third drawer of his dresser since you stayed over so much. You did indeed keep an extra pack of your birth control pills in the drawer. You cursed yourself for doing that, not giving you an excuse to leave.

“Fuck it. I’ll stay,” you said.

“Yay,” he said.

When you were changed into a tank top and shorts, you laid next to him on your side and just looked at him.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m in love with you,” he slurred.

“I know. We can talk about it in the morning.”

“But-”

“Please. I don’t wanna get into it tonight just for you not to remember it in the morning, okay?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he just started snoring. You sighed and rolled onto your other side, falling asleep a little while after.

You were the first one awake that morning. You laid facing away from him, just staring at the wall. You were anticipating talking to him when he woke up, not knowing what would happen between you two.

But, soon enough, he was awake and stirring. You felt him roll over in bed and mumble, “What the hell?”

You rolled onto your back and looked over at him, a relieved expression on his face.

“I didn’t know it was you,” he said. “I thought you had to get home?”

“Eh. I missed my curfew anyway. You convinced me that my parents wouldn’t be as mad if I was here.”

He rolled over, gripping the trash can on his floor, and vomited for about fifteen seconds. He groaned when his head hit the pillow again.

“Did we… do anything last night?” he asked.

“What? No, why?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like something happened.”

“Well, you kissed me at the party under the mistletoe, but nothing else.”

“What?”

“You told me you’re in love with me.”

“Shit.”

“And you told me you know I’m in love with you.”

He didn’t respond for a minute. “I wasn’t lying, Y/N.”

“I know. I know.”

“I have been for three years.”

“Three?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you liked me?”

“You know I don’t have the courage to do that.” He didn’t answer. “Is that why you were always less interested when I was with Danny?”

Danny was your first boyfriend. You guys started dating when you were juniors. The relationship only lasted for about two months. You found out he cheated on you with one of his friends, and you broke it off.

“And why you wanted to kill him when he cheated on me?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

You nodded. “Makes sense now.”

“So… What do we do now?”

You rolled over to face him, and he did the same.

“I don’t know,” you said softly.

He reached over and placed his hand lightly on your cheek.

“Maybe we should continue what we were doing last night.”

You rolled onto your stomach, holding yourself up by your elbows. Your face hovered over his, only a few inches away. He tucked your hair behind your ear, running his thumb down to your bottom lip.

“Maybe,” you whispered.

He pulled you down and connected your lips. But this time was different. It was more sincere, more loving. His mouth tasted like alcohol and morning breath, not to mention the slight hint of vomit, but it was sweet.

Your kiss became more passionate and deep. It was all you could focus on.

When you felt his hand snake down to your hip, then to the small of your back, you let out a small moan. You pushed yourself on top of him, his hands exploring your back. They eventually went up to your ribcage, his thumbs grazing the underside of your breasts.

Your hands were placed on his chest, feeling how shallow his breaths were.

When his hands cupped your breasts, there was a knock at the door. You broke the kiss and rolled your eyes, falling down next to him.

“Yeah?” he called out.

The door opened and there stood Dustin. Steve groaned and propped himself on his elbows.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“You promised you’d take me to the arcade.”

“It’s Christmas,” Steve replied.

“Yesterday was Christmas.”

“The arcade doesn’t open again until tomorrow anyway.”

“I asked Keith. He said they reopen today.”

“You couldn’t have waited another hour?” He looked at his alarm clock to see it was seven a.m.

“The early bird catches the worm.” He looked at you. “Were you guys-”

“No,” you interrupted. “We weren’t doing anything.” You pushed yourself off the bed and grabbed your jacket, pulling it on over your tank top. You pulled your jeans over your shorts. You slipped your shoes on, not even worrying about putting socks on.

You grabbed your keys and hat, putting it over your head.

“I should get going. My parents are gonna be pissed at me for not coming home last night.”

“Let me walk you out,” he said, standing up.

“See you later, Henderson,” you said, smiling at Dustin.

“You’re still coming to Mikes on New Year’s, right?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You stood at the door, zipping your jacket and separating your car key from the rest of your keys.

“Let’s go on a date. Dinner, or a movie or something,” he suggested.

“Why not both?”

He smirked. “Both.”

“We can split the check.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll pay.”

“Steve-”

“I’m the one asking you on a date, I’ll pay.”

You smirked. “Fine. But I’m paying for the next one.”

“Deal.” He leaned down and kissed you, which you returned without question.

You knew Steve well, and you knew he was able to satisfy a girl in the bedroom, but you didn’t expect his kisses to be so passionate and full of love. He was gentle, and his lips were soft and welcoming.

“I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.”

He closed the door once you were walking down the driveway, turning around to face the stairs. He groaned when he saw Dustin halfway down them.

“It’s finally happening?” Dustin asked with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this?”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“The party. We’ve been pining for you guys to get together since you joined us.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Let me get dressed and I’ll take you to the stupid arcade,” he mumbled.

send me prompts!

#steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader fanfiction #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington x reader imagine #sfw #stranger things #requested #one shot

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bucky-of-the-opera · 5 years

Text

Keep on Loving You

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve gets some TLC after the battle at Starcourt Mall.

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, slight smut (sfw), nudity (non-explicit)

Word Count: 3,202

A/N: Apparently, it’s become a regular thing for Steve to take a beating, so I felt obligated to write a fic where someone takes care of him for once. Steve “The Hair” Harrington deserves it.

As you entered Scoops Ahoy for what must have been the thousandth time that summer, you spotted your boyfriend, Steve. He was currently talking to his coworker, Robin. His sailor uniform always brought a smile to your face, even if he hated it.

Steve’s back was facing you, so Robin brought his attention to you in her usual pleasant fashion. “Hey dingus,” she said coolly, “your girlfriend — who is way out of your league by the way — is waiting at the counter.”

He rolled his eyes at her and then spun around to greet you, his face lighting up as his eyes fell on you. “Ahoy, Y/N! Here for your usual?” he asked, resting both hands on the counter.

“Not today,” you responded. “I was actually coming to tell you that I’ll be out of town for a few days; my parents and I are leaving tomorrow to help my grandma move and get settled into her new place.”

“Gee, thanks for the heads up,” he said, dropping his head into his hands. He looked like a disheartened child who was just told that he couldn’t have dessert until he finished his vegetables.

“I’m sorry it’s such short notice. My aunt was supposed to help her move, but she had to pick up an extra shift at work.”

Steve groaned. “First Henderson leaves me, and now my girlfriend’s leaving me too.” He picked up a discarded straw wrapper and twirled it around his fingers. “When will you be back?”

“Probably really late on the third so we can be back for the Fourth of July festival.”

“Can I come over tonight after my shift?” he asked.

You scratched the back of your neck, trying to avoid his eyes. “I don’t know. I still have a lot of stuff I have to get done before I leave, and I haven’t even started packing.” You glanced at his face, which was a mistake; he was giving you the most pathetic puppy dog eyes and pout combination you’d ever seen. How could you say no to that face?

“Fine,” you sighed. “But I seriously have to finish all of my packing tonight.” You pointed your finger at him. “That means no distractions from you.”

He gave you a Cheshire Cat-like grin as he crossed his fingers behind his back. “No distractions. I promise.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure you do,” you said, as you leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, Steve.” You waved a quick goodbye to Robin and then walked out of the ice cream shop.

Steve’s eyes followed you until you had completely left his field of view. He momentarily forgot that he was still at work and nearly jumped out of his skin when Robin shouted at him. “Earth to Harrington! You have another customer!”

He muttered an apology as he tended to the next person in line, counting down the hours until he could see you again.

***

Later that night, you were in your room throwing together some outfits to put into your suitcase. Your radio was playing an REO Speedwagon song which you started dancing along to. You spun around and unexpectantly came face to face with your boyfriend.

“Shit! You can’t sneak up on me like that Steve!” You clutched your chest, waiting for your heart rate to return to normal.

He laughed and placed both of his hands on your waist before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry. Your mom let me up, and I didn’t want to interrupt your dance party.”

You huffed and folded your arms, which made Steve pull you closer. He leaned his head down and spoke softly into your ear. “Don’t be mad sweetheart. I thought we could have some fun before you leave tomorrow.” His words sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hands found their way around the back of Steve’s neck, and your fingers started their normal routine of playing with his hair. He never let anyone but you touch his hair; it was an intimate moment shared between the two of you. Steve lowered his head to where your neck and shoulder meet, while you moved one of your hands upward to lightly scratch his scalp. You gave his hair a slight tug, making him moan. He retaliated by nipping and swirling his tongue against the curve of your neck, causing you to gasp.

“Steve…” you groaned, trying to muster up the will power to push him away. “I told you earlier: no distractions. I haven’t finished packing yet.”

Steve reluctantly detached himself from you. Too soon for your liking, if you were being honest. He looked around your room and spotted the pile of clothes on your bed. Then he grabbed several pairs of shorts and a few tops and tossed them into your suitcase.

“There,” he said triumphantly, “all done.”

“So, I’ll be walking around barefoot, wearing no bra and no underwear?”

He smirked at you. “Sounds good to me.”

You shook your head and began folding all the clothes he had tossed into your suitcase. “You are no help at all Steve Harrington. Go sit down and wait for me to finish.”

“Fine,” Steve groaned, collapsing backwards onto your bed.

You chuckled and went back to your packing, singing along to a new song that had started playing.

Steve watched you as you worked, wondering how the hell he was going to survive the next few days without you.

***

“All done,” you announced after you had finished packing. You looked up to see Steve sitting on your bed propped up against your pillows. He had picked up one of your magazines and seemed very enthralled by whatever article he was reading. You rolled your eyes and walked over to the bed, tugging the magazine out of his grasp to set it on your nightstand.

“I was reading that,” he said, glancing up at you.

You climbed on top of him, placing one leg on each side of his lap. Your fingers found their way back into his hair as you began playing with his long locks once more. “I know you were, but I thought we could have some fun before I leave tomorrow,” you said, reiterating what he suggested earlier.

Steve didn’t have to be told twice. He launched himself forward, crashing his lips against yours. You smiled into the kiss as he wrapped his hands around your waist once more to pull you closer. He traced your bottom lip with his tongue before taking it between his teeth. When he moved one of his hands downward to graze your thigh with his fingers, you had to stifle a giggle. Steve trailed kisses across your jaw and down your neck, but you couldn’t hold in your laughter any longer.

He pulled his head back to look at you and chuckled as well. “Why are you laughing?!”

“I can’t help it! I’m ticklish!”

“Well, I’m trying to put the moves on you, but you’re making it a little difficult to be honest.”

You giggled again and cupped his face with your hands. Steve felt his heart skip a beat every time he heard your laughter. You smiled at him as your thumbs brushed his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Stevie.”

God, he loved when you called him that. He rested his forehead against yours and sighed. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I’ll be gone for less than a week,” you responded. He groaned and dropped his head onto your shoulder. You left one hand tangled in his hair and ran the other one up and down his back. “Do you have to work on the Fourth of July?”

“Yeah. It sucks, but they’re letting me out a few hours early since it’s a holiday.”

“My family and I are going to the festival to see the fireworks. Do you wanna meet me there after work?”

His hands squeezed your waist. “Absolutely. I’ll even win you a giant teddy bear,” he said, smiling against your shoulder.

“Promise?” you asked.

Steve pulled his head back to look at you before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I promise.”

***

Steve hadn’t answered any of your phone calls after the first night that you had called him from your grandma’s house. You tried to come up with a rationalize reason as to why your boyfriend had been dodging your calls, but your brain was psyching you out. A million different scenarios were running through your head: he wasn’t home when you called, he was in the hospital, or he was going to break up with you.

By the time you got home, it was too late to call Steve. You waited until morning when the mall was open to drive over, and ran straight to Scoops Ahoy. When you reached the store you stopped dead in your tracks: the gate was down. Every other place in the mall was open except for Scoops Ahoy. Maybe both Steve and Robin were sick and called off, leaving no one able to run the store. If he was sick, then he was at home. So you got back into your car and drove over to his house. You banged on his door for a full minute, but no one answered. Even when you started chucking rocks at Steve’s bedroom window there was no answer. You were dumbfounded; you didn’t know what to do or where else to look, so you drove back home.

A few hours later, your parents were about to leave for the festival. Your mother came into your room where you were lying on your bed, staring at the phone.

“Are you going out dressed in your pajamas?” she asked.

You glanced towards her and then back at the phone, willing it to ring. “I’m not going. I’m not in a very festive mood.”

Your mother knew not to push you when you were in a bad mood. She kissed the top of your head and told you she would keep an eye out for Steve before leaving your bedroom.

When the sun had finally set, you decided to go outside and watch the fireworks from your driveway. Watching them seemed more appealing than waiting for your phone to ring, anyway. You hopped onto the hood of your car and waited for the display to start. Lately, it seemed like all you were doing was waiting.

***

The fireworks distracted you for a while, but they weren’t able to lighten your mood. You started to make your way back inside just as a helicopter flew overhead. When you looked up, you saw at least a dozen more. It seemed like they were flying towards the Starcourt Mall. You were out of ideas, so you hopped into your car and followed them.

Your suspicion was right; the helicopters landed in the mall parking lot. The sight before you left you awestruck: the mall was on fire. The very mall that you had spent your whole summer shopping at; the mall where your boyfriend worked. What if he was trapped inside when the fire started? You felt sick. You needed to find Steve; you needed to know that he was ok.

Stepping out of your car, you took everything in: the flashing lights and sirens on the emergency vehicles and the soldiers swarming towards the mall. When you looked over at the ambulances, you saw some familiar faces: Mike, Eleven, Will, and his mother. Even Nancy and Johnathan were huddled in the back of an ambulance. But there was someone else standing in front of that ambulance. You knew immediately as you saw the mane of brown hair. He didn’t even need to be in a sailor uniform for you to notice him: it was Steve.

You took off, running as fast as your legs could carry you. “STEVE!” you shouted as you got closer. He spun around and locked eyes with you.

“Y/N!” He ran to meet you halfway. The blanket that had been wrapped around his shoulders fell to the ground. When you finally reached each other, you jumped into his arms, causing him to stumble backwards. You clutched the back of his uniform, holding him as tight as you could.

Only when he started to tremble did you finally pull back to examine his face. His left eye was badly swollen, and he had a gash on his lip. You placed your hand on the right side of his face. He leaned into your touch as a tear slipped down his cheek.

“Stevie, what happened to you?” you cooed.

Steve cleared his throat. “You know, the usual. Attacked by a monster from another dimension and kidnapped by Russians who had a secret base underneath the mall.” He tried to laugh it off until he saw the worried look on your face. “It’s all over now, Y/N. I’m fine.”

You looked into his eyes, tears threatening to spill from your own. “Are you sure?”

“I’m… I—” he swallowed. His grip tightened on your waist. “No. I’m not okay. I’m not…” he trailed off, unable to hold back the sobs that came.

“Oh, Stevie.” You wiped away the tears that had begun to fall down his cheek. “Let me take you home,” you whispered. He nodded, and you took him by the hand to lead him to your car.

***

On the drive over you tried to coax more out of him, but he wouldn’t go into any more detail of what had happened to him. He had told you a few weeks after you two started dating that he had fought off a creature that Dustin had called a Demodog. Maybe another one of those had gotten loose in the mall? The so-called “Russian invasion” was still a mystery to you, but you knew Steve would talk about it when he was ready.

“Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll get you some clean clothes,” you said to him when you walked inside his house. His parents were still out of town on a business trip, so you two had the place to yourselves.

Steve’s hand was holding yours, and when you tried to walk away, he only held on tighter. You looked back at him, but he was staring at the ground.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, switching his gaze to you.

“Always,” you said as the both of you walked hand in hand to the bathroom.

You turned the shower on and spun around to see Steve undressing. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw his torso: it was covered in purple and blue bruises. He glanced over at you and saw you staring at them, so he turned to examine himself in the mirror.

“They’re not as bad as they look. I mean, they hurt like hell,” he shrugged. “But it could be worse.” You looked down at your feet as he finished undressing; in all the months that you had been together you still hadn’t seen each other completely bare. “I don’t mind,” he said when he saw your trepidation. “I’ve been informed that I’m very easy on the eyes,” he smirked.

You giggled and walked up to him, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “You are, indeed, Mr. Harrington.” He smiled down at you. “Now get in there,” you nodded at the shower. “You stink.”

Steve stepped inside and gave you a wink before closing the curtain. You leaned against the sink and stared at the shower. You could have so easily lost him tonight; you didn’t want to waste any more time stressing over trivial things.

Releasing a breath that you didn’t realize you’d been holding, you stripped yourself of your clothing and peeled back the curtain to join Steve. He was in the middle of lathering his hair with shampoo when he froze, seeing you fully exposed to him. His eyes widened as you stepped closer. You brought your hands to his hair, working through the rest of the shampoo. Steve moaned in appreciation, closing his eyes to savor the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp. He brought his hands to your backside, cupping your ass and squeezing gently. You gasped at his touch, making him chuckle. When you finished scrubbing his hair, you tilted his head backwards so you could rinse out the shampoo. While his eyes were still closed, you leaned forward to kiss him again. You dragged your tongue along his lower lip, being mindful of the cut.

“Steve…” you whispered against his lips. You felt tears pricking your eyes.

He pulled you closer so that there was no space left between you both. Steve lowered his head to press soft kisses from your jaw down to your shoulder. When he started to head towards you chest, you stopped him.

“Stevie.”

He pulled back to look at your face and saw the tears falling down your cheeks. Steve leaned his forehead against yours and held you close while the water cascaded over your bodies.

“You look so tired,” you said after getting a good look at the dark circles under his eyes. “Let me finish washing your hair so you can get some sleep.” He didn’t argue, just stood still for you as you conditioned his hair and rinsed it out once more.

While you were drying off, you heard Steve’s stomach growl. “When was the last time you ate?” you asked.

“I don’t remember.”

You frowned and wrapped the towel tightly around yourself. “Go put something comfortable on. I’ll get you some food.”

You went down to the kitchen to make him a sandwich while he got dressed. When you came back upstairs, you found Steve nodding off. He was half dressed as he sat on his bed with his shirt in his hands. You set the plate on his nightstand next to a glass of water and walked over to him. Taking the shirt from him, you woke him gently so he could help you get his arms through it.

“Eat your food and drink some water. Then you can sleep,” you said to him.

Steve took the sandwich and scarfed it down while you rummaged through his drawers. You took out one of his shirts and pulled it over your head.

After Steve placed the plate on his nightstand next to the now empty glass, he climbed under the covers. He motioned for you to join him, so you laid down beside him. Steve adjusted himself so that his head was lying on your chest and his leg was strewn across both of yours. You stroked his damp hair, and he sighed deeply.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he mumbled against your chest. “I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too, Stevie,” you responded softly as he drifted off to the sound of your heart beating. You smiled to yourself. It was the first time both of you had said the L word to each other. You weren’t sure how much Steve would remember in the morning, but you promised yourself that from now on, you would always remind him of how much you loved him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic

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mss4msu · 5 years

Text

Call Me Doctor. (Steve’s Chapter 9)

Summary: Fresh out of graduate school, you had somehow landed a spot in the faculty of a prestigious university. The small anthropology department has too many faculty and too few offices; sharing an office does not go as you expected.

Pairing: Professor!Steve x Professor!Reader

Words: 4295

Warnings: Language and ANGST

A/N: Another chapter, another false deadline promise. I’m sorry for how late this has come out. I got dumped at the beginning of July and have had a lot to deal with since then as my ex and I lived together and I had to get him off the lease, figure out how to afford the apartment on my own (but I got a new job so I will be able to!), and start getting my apartment clean of him. But here’s a chapter.

IMPORTANT: THIS IS WRITTEN FROM STEVE’S PERSPECTIVE!!!!!!! THIS DEPICTS STEVE’S VIEW FROM CHAPTER 9 OF CALL ME DOCTOR!!

Catch Up On the Story Here

“Oh, shit,” James muttered. “We should say something to her right?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, his face revealing the defeat he felt. “I doubt she would trust anything I said to her now anyway.”

“We can’t just let her go out with that snake,” James flopped down into a seat next to Steve.

“No, we can’t. But do you really think she’d believe the truth about him if I told her?”

“Probably not...shit.”

Yup,” Steve began to pack up his things, “but I have a class to teach right now. Let’s get dinner tonight and figure it out.”

“Sure, I’ll be at your place at 7. I’ll grab some takeout?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Steve replied, leaving the library.

Steve spent his class unable to concentrate on what he was lecturing, his mind too preoccupied on (Y/N)’s weekend plans. He finished his class early, something he had never done before, and sped home. He tried to busy himself with work, but he couldn’t stop thinking about (Y/N).

James let himself into Steve’s apartment and found him pacing the living room.

“Alright, I brought pad thai, pineapple fried rice, and drunken noodles. I thought that might keep you from having to get actually drunk tonight.”

“Very funny,” James responded without smiling, “I don’t plan on drinking for quite a while after last weekend.”

“So what’s our game plan?” James asked as he opened up the takeout containers on the table.

“I don’t know,” Steve slumped into a chair at the table, grabbing a fork.

“Well that isn’t helpful,” James said before shoving a forkful of noodles into his mouth, “So we don’t think she’ll believe the truth,” James sat back thinking, “What about doing something about his tenure? Can we try to get it canceled so he has to move away? Who runs that department? Heimdall?”

“Yeah, Heimdall just became chair two years ago. I sat on a selection committee with him last year and I think I formed a good enough connection with him that he’ll listen and help out.”

“So you think he could actually do something?”

“We would have to have a reason for him. I doubt they would just fire him and I’m not sure how much I can affect their decision on his tenure in general, but I think I could convince them to at least force him to turn in book chapters sooner? I could say that the University was pressing for me to get a new book out right away, and see if anyone in that department had something they’re already working on that could take its place. It would definitely be a favor though. But that added work might mean that Loki would have to cancel the date.”

“That could work? Seems like a valid enough reason to me.”

“Should I email him or call him? Would a text work? We need to get this to him as soon as possible.”

“Is he the kind of guy who actually checks his email on the weekends?” “Yeah he is,” Steve said, pulling out his phone and typing furiously, “I’ll do that and if that doesn’t work we’ll go to Plan B?”

“What’s Plan B?” James asked, stopping his fork before it reached his mouth.

“I don’t know yet,” Steve replied, finally taking a moment to eat.

The two men sat in silence as they ate, both thinking about the situation. After they had finished eating, the chime of Steve’s phone broke their silence.

“It’s from Heimdall!” Steve’s heart was racing as he opened the email and read it aloud.

“Dear Steve,

I would be happy to help out with the book deadline situation. One of our faculty, Loki Laufeyson is currently up for tenure and working on a book. I’ll let him know immediately that he needs to adjust his schedule and get things submitted faster than originally intended.

Best,

H”

“Yes!” James exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Would it be weird if I texted (Y/N) to check?”

“Yes, it probably would be,” Steve replied, although he wanted to reach out to her too.

The two men spent the rest of the night trying to put the situation out of their minds. After James left, when Steve got into bed, he tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. As much as he tried not to, he kept thinking of last weekend. If it hadn’t been for his drunken stupidity, (Y/N) would never had agreed to go out with Loki in the first place.

After a sleepless night, Steve awoke late on Saturday already in a bad mood. He went about his day unable to concentrate on anything as he was too busy picturing the date (Y/N) was going on the next day. He hadn’t heard anything else from Heimdall, which he hoped meant that Plan A worked. As he sat on the couch watching a movie Saturday night, trying to relax just a bit, his phone vibrated. He grabbed it quickly and thought he was going to vomit after reading the message.

Nice try, smart guy. A change in deadline isn’t going to keep me away from (Y/N). Good luck finding something that will.

Steve immediately took a screenshot and sent it to James. Less than 30 seconds after hitting send his phone was ringing.

“What the fuck??” James yelled through the phone.

“That about sums up how I feel,” Steve said, defeat in his voice.

“We have to think of something else to stop him.”

“What if I just beat him up? Would that solve it?”

“Do you want (Y/N) to hate you forever?” James asked.

Steve let out a long sigh, “You’re right. Shit.”

“What if I told her the truth?”

“She would probably think I made something up about him and told you to tell her and then she would just end up hating you too.”

“Damn,” James said, followed by a few minutes of silence. “God, it just makes me sick to think that lying, cheating bastard is going out with (Y/N).”

“Me too,” Steve replied, his stomach in knots.

“Ok, I’m going to text him something.”

“James, what are you going to text him that he will listen to?”

“I don’t know, I’ll invite him out or to work on a project or something...I’ll think of something, but I know he doesn’t hate me like he hates you, so maybe it’ll work.”

“Ok, tell me how it goes,” Steve sighed before hanging up.

An hour later Steve’s phone began to vibrate uncontrollably. He unlocked the phone and found screenshots from James.

Hey, Loki! It’s James. I’m working on a new research project about the potential of Russian spies using Nordic religious terms and concepts as code. I’m hoping to really kick this project into gear so I can have something to publish by Spring. I would really like to consult you on this project as I know you have a vested interest in part of the topic. Could we meet up tomorrow and I could get some of your expertise?

James, as interesting as this topic seems to be, doing a quick google search I have found no reason for the two topics, those being Russian spies and Nordic religion, to be connected. I would need more information before I consider changing my schedule for you.

I’ve found information on Russians using random phrases, like “The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west,” and I’m wondering if there are “pagan” religious connotations to them. For example, I’ve talked to (Y/N) and she said that the Egyptians made connections between colors and directions, so could that be something that this code uses? So they aren’t necessarily coming right out with the religious affiliations, but I’m wondering if that was the inspiration for them.

You talked to (Y/N) about it already?

Yes I did. So are you willing to meet tomorrow?

I guess so. However, I am busy at 2pm and likely will continue to be preoccupied through the rest of the night.

Oh, shoot. I was actually thinking 2:00 would be perfect. I have a meeting with Natasha at 1:00 to go over the spy aspect and was hoping to be able to stack the meetings.

Well that’s too bad. I could meet in the morning, but otherwise you will have to wait.

Are you sure there isn’t a chance you could meet at 2:00? That would really be ideal for the project.

No. I will not miss the things I already have planned for you.

What if I asked Nat to switch times? Could you meet at 1 instead?

That would be cutting it close.

I’d be happy to include you as an author on it to compensate you for your time.

Fine. I will meet you at 1:00 on campus. But this meeting can not go for more than an hour.

Loki, thank you so much for making the time to help me with this project. I’ll meet you in my office on campus at 1:00pm. See you tomorrow!

Steve’s phone rang just as he finished reading the text messages.

“So, seems like a good plan right? I’m going to have him come to the office and then hopefully make the meeting go long so that he has to stay longer than he wanted to. And then won’t be there for the date!” James said with glee in his voice.

“God I hope so.”

“And if he’s late, I bet (Y/N) will hate him.”

Steve’s hopes were rising for the first time since he had first kissed (Y/N), “Buck, thank you for this.”

“I want you to know that, as much as I love you, I’m not just doing this for you, Steve. (Y/N) is a fantastic woman and she deserves so much better than Loki. She deserves someone who won’t lie to her, cheat on her, lie to her again, make it all seem like it was her fault, and then ruin her career. You definitely made an ass of yourself and her in that bar, but I know you wouldn’t do any of that shit to her.”

“Wow, thanks, just when I was feeling a bit better you had to bring me back down.”

“Sorry man, but I have to be real with you.”

“Yep, sure.”

“Steve, we’re at Plan B. You don’t think we’ll need a Plan C do you?”

“If your plan doesn’t work, I’ll go talk to him.”

“Does that really sound like a safe and productive option?”

“Buck, if your plan doesn’t work, I’m afraid it will be the only option we have left.”

After a long pause James whispered, “Fuck.”

“I feel the same way. Hopefully it won’t come to Plan C.”

“I’ll keep you posted about tomorrow’s progress, just in case. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”

The pounding of Steve’s heart was the only thing to break the silence after James hung up the phone. He got ready for bed and flopped down on top of the covers. He just lay there, thinking and worrying.

Steve didn’t remember having falling asleep when he awoke Sunday morning. His neck was stiff from the angle he had slept at and he had struggle sitting up from the pain. He reached around for his phone but couldn’t find it. With panic setting in, he forced his neck to bend so he could check the floor. He picked up his phone and found it to be dead, which only increased his panic. He hastily plugged it in, and started pacing the floor, his heart thumping painfully in his chest as he waited for the phone to turn back on. As soon as he saw the screen light up he raced to his phone, holding it until it turned on. The phone finally booted up and Steve hastily unlocked it.

It’s only 8am, he thought to himself. There’s no reason why I should have any messages yet.

After 5 minutes of waiting and staring at the phone with no new notifications aside from a few emails, he decided there were no updates that he needed to worry about. His breathing finally started to slow down and he relaxed into bed. He scrolled through the new emails, none of which demanded replies, feeling his eyelids getting heavier with each sentence he read. He dozed off with his phone still in his hand.

Steve awoke to a buzzing on his chest. By instinct he silenced his phone, letting out a big yawn as he groggily rubbed his eyes. He picked his phone up and turned the screen on. He instantly felt sick as he read the messages on his screen.

Steve, Loki just got here and I think it’s gonna go well (Sent 1:00pm)

Ok, I severely misjudged this. I’ve already excused myself to the bathroom to try to kill time but I think he might be on to me. I don’t know how much longer I can keep him (Sent 1:32pm)

STEVE THE MEETING IS ALMOST OVER AND I CANT STALL HIM AND HES LEAVING TO GO TO (Y/N)’S AND YOU NEED TO STEP IN AND WE HAVE TO GO TO PLAN C (Sent 1:43pm)

STEVE HE HAS LEFT AND I COULDNT KEEP HIM AND YOU NEED TO STEP IN. WHY THE FUCK ARENT YOU ANSWERING (Sent 1:47pm)

In addition to the texts, Steve also had 5 missed calls. He looked at the time and realized he had less than 10 minutes to get to (Y/N)’s to hopefully cut Loki off before he got there. Luckily he was still in his clothes from the day before. He quickly got out of bed and ran through his apartment finding his keys, wallet, and helmet before racing out the door. He quickly jumped onto his bike and wove his way in and out of cars to get to (Y/N)’s apartment. He got to the front door with 3 minutes to spare before 2pm. Just as he was getting off his bike he saw Loki walking up the street. He took a deep breath, and walked up to the front door, standing in front of it like a club bouncer.

“Loki,” he huffed as the other man walked up to him.

“Steve. I wondered if I would run into you today,” Loki replied with a sly smirk twisting his lip upwards.

“We both know why I’m here.”

“Because you came to admit defeat to a real man?” Loki sneered.

“Is there one coming?” Steve asked snidely.

“Funny,” Loki said without cracking a smile, “I’m going to need you to get out of my way now.”

“Oh really? And what are you going to do about it if I don’t?” Steve puffed out his chest.

Loki walked up to Steve until there was just an inch between them. Although Loki had height over Steve, Steve had more muscle.

“I am warning you one last time. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” Loki spat.

“No.”

No sooner had Loki pushed Steve on the shoulder than Steve had grabbed his wrist and spun him so Loki’s hand was flush with his own neck. Holding Loki’s arm in a compromising position, Steve shoved him up against the apartment building, keeping him from having an exit.

“I have no problem breaking your arm right now,” Steve hissed into Loki’s ear.

“Go ahead, tough guy. Let’s see who (Y/N) chooses if you do so.”

“Stay away from her.”

“No, I don’t want to.”

“Loki. I swear to God, you better stay away from her.”

“Good thing I don’t believe in your puny God.”

Steve tightened his pull on Loki’s arm, causing a yelp from Loki.

“Fine, fine, I’ll go,” Loki said with defeat.

Steve loosened his grip on Loki’s arm, “And where will you be going?”

“On my date!” Loki exclaimed as he took advantage of Steve’s lack of grip and broke free, spinning around and punching him in the face.

Steve was knocked backwards and just barely grabbed the end of Loki’s shirt as he ran for the door. He didn’t get a strong enough grip on the shirt tails, and Loki made it to the door and called the intercom to (Y/N)’s apartment before Steve could stop him.

“Hello?” (Y/N)’s voice rang through the intercom, causing Steve’s stomach to flip.

“(Y/N), apologies for my tardiness,” Loki replied giving Steve a wink and a smirk, “Are you still wanting to go out?”

“Of course!” She replied with an excitement in her voice that made Steve feel sick, “Be right down.”

“Better luck next time, Stevie,” Loki spat.

Steve growled and got on his bike, walking it forward so he could be concealed behind a minivan parked on the street. Moments later he heard a door open. He watched through the windows of the van as (Y/N) came out the door, a huge grin on her face as she met Loki.

“(Y/N)! Again, my deepest apologies. I was held up,” Loki cleared his throat and adjusted his shirt, trying to smooth it out from where Steve had rumpled it.

“Well you’re here now, so all is forgiven,” she smiled at him.

“Really? Just like that? Well perfect! Shall we?” Loki asked, nodding ahead.

“Love to,” she replied.

Loki took her hand and tucked it through and around his arm before guiding her forwards toward the main strip of shops and restaurants. Steve felt absolutely nauseous watching the events before him. He slowly walked his motorcycle down the street, creating a safe distance between himself and Loki and (Y/N) where they wouldn’t see him, but he could still hear them.

“So, I thought we could go to three different cafes today and get drinks at one and pastries at the others,” he said, loosening up.

“Sounds perfect,” she said, enjoying the warmth he gave off as you walked arm-in-arm.

Steve followed them, silently, for a few blocks, pausing behind cars when Loki would look around for him. He was incredibly thankful that there wasn’t any traffic so that he could continue on with what had now become Plan D.

When they stopped at a cafe, Steve watched as Loki held the door open for (Y/N). He waited a few minutes before parking his bike and going in after them. He quickly grabbed a newspaper from a rack near the door and walked straight to the bathroom as he saw (Y/N) in line, staring at the menu board. After they walked to their table, Steve hastily ordered a coffee to not raise suspicions.

Steve found a seat far enough away from them that he could observe, but kept the newspaper up so that he could be concealed. Although he couldn’t hear their conversations, (Y/N)’s laugh would ring through the shop. Every time he heard it, his stomach lurched. They talked for what felt like eons. Steve had reread the newspaper 8 times when he heard them walk past him, discussing where they were going next. After hearing the door shut, he put down his paper and watched the direction they left. He waited a few moments and then followed them out, trying to keep a safe distance.

When they got to another cafe, Steve repeated the same process. He waited until they were walking away with their own drinks before he ordered. He then found a table of his own near them and resumed his reading of the paper. Steve couldn’t help but slightly drop the newspaper and watch her walk away when she went to the bathroom. The hair on the back of his neck rose, as he felt like she had seen him too. He removed himself a little farther from where they had been sitting when she was in the bathroom and pulled out his phone, concealing it with the newspaper.

Wrap this shit up, Loki.

Or what?

Or I will talk to your Department Chair and ensure you have a new reason to leave.

Ha, yeah right. What are they gonna do? Give me a deadline of tomorrow for a chapter?

A few people owe me favors, so yes, maybe they will.

The shop was quiet enough that he could hear (Y/N) asking Loki if something was wrong. Steve slipped his phone into his pocket and waited for a moment to step in. Steve watched as Loki hurried (Y/N) out of the cafe, but quickly pulled the newspaper up as Loki began looking around for him.

Steve repeated his previous actions from the last two cafes when he went to the final one. He felt a fire building inside of him when he realized Loki had taken (Y/N) to his own personal favorite coffee shop. He watched through the window as (Y/N) looked around the shop with wonder and excitement, which made the anger inside of him grow. He wanted to have been the one to bring her here. He should be the one with her right now. Once he saw that they were getting their drinks he went inside and snapped out an order to the waitress, his anger getting the better of him. He apologized when they gave him his coffee and he found a seat to resume his watch.

Steve sat closer to them at this cafe than he had at the others. He listened in to their conversations, the anger causing the heat to grow in him as he listened to (Y/N)’s enjoyment at being there with Loki. He couldn’t help himself, he pulled out his phone and texted Loki.

Alright, you son of a bitch. What is it going to take to get you away from her.

He listened as Loki exclaimed about the vibration of his phone and (Y/N) excused herself to the bathroom. Steve held the newspaper up as (Y/N) walked past him, but was afraid she would become suspicious as his hands were shaking with anger and causing the newspaper to slightly move. His phone buzzed on the table before him.

Nothing you say or do will keep me from her, Steve. I win, you lose. Get over it.

Steve had never felt more angry in his entire life. Nothing with Sharon had ever pushed him to such an anger as this. Knowing that Loki, the man who had stolen his own brother, Thor’s, girlfriend from him, dated her for a month, and then cheated on her with James’s girlfriend, and then turned the blame on Thor and James for not being enough for the women, to the point where James had a breakdown that almost caused for removal from his job due to him skipping classes and missing deadlines, was out with (Y/N) and she was actually enjoying herself had brought Steve to his breaking point. Hearing Loki laugh with her was the final straw. Steve crumpled up his newspaper and threw it to the floor. He stood up and walked towards Loki and (Y/N).

(Y/N) looked up at him and dropped her cup, which smashed into pieces as soon as it hit the floor.

“Steve?” (Y/N) asked with confusion in her voice.

“Steven,” Loki softly said with panic in his voice.

Seeing the show that Loki was putting on with (Y/N) just pushed Steve even further over the edge of anger. He took a moment to think and put the right words together to not raise suspicion with (Y/N).

“Loki, any word on tenure?” he growled out, narrowing his eyes.

“None that I would tell you,” Loki spit back, puffing out his chest.

“And none that you’ll receive,” Steve said, with an evil smirk.

“Steve, what the fuck?! Have you been following us?” She demanded.

“I have far better things to do than spend an afternoon off following two dimwits around coffee shops,” Steve replied, the reflection of the fire from the fireplace dancing in his eyes embodying the fire he felt within himself.

Loki sarcastically laughed in response.

“Let’s just go, Loki,” (Y/N) said, offering her hand to pull Loki up from the couch, “He isn’t worth it,” She spit at Steve.

“Gladly,” Loki replied, taking her hand.

Loki walked over to Steve with (Y/N)’s hand held tightly in his, “Rogers, if you ever threaten me again, I will take this up with the Dean and I don’t think she would be too happy to hear of it.”

Steve just growled in reply, unable to think of anything else he could say that wouldn’t get him into even more trouble with (Y/N) than he was sure he was already in. Steve didn’t bother following them. As soon as they left the anger seemed to leave his body and he was left feeling sick, sad, and lost. It was as though his heart had been crushed and stomped on by (Y/N). He felt terrible that she had been the victim of his anger once again, but even more awful that Loki was the one to pick her up.

He slowly walked out of the cafe, apologizing quietly to the baristas for causing a scene. He trudged to his motorcycle and drove himself straight to James’s. He didn’t want to be alone. He fumbled with his keys and got himself into the apartment building. He knocked on James’s door and waited for his friend to open it.

“Steve? What happened?” James asked after opening the door, his face falling as he looked his friend up and down.

“We lost,” Steve choked out before entering the apartment, slumping onto the couch, and crying.

CHAPTER TEN

Tag Lists:

Call Me Doctor. Tag List:

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#call me doctor #marvel #fan fic #steve rogers #professor steve #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #au #professor au #anthropology

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prettykissesuglylies · 5 years

Text

Fair warning. This is a mess and I didn’t edit it. Enjoy.

—-

You didn’t get the strangers name, but Captain America might not have been your first guess when you took an attractive man back to your rented for the semester apartment. He had a frankly ridiculous haircut and a cheesy line about missing American accents while abroad, but he was obscurely fit and didn’t give off any creepy vibes, so you took him home with you on a Monday night after a none too subtle remark about eating you out.

It was a really great decision, as it turned out.

Except for the part where he was a national fugitive, but he had a beard and a bad haircut, so no one would notice, probably. If they did death would be a small price to pay for the amazing (three) orgasms he gave you. And you didn’t even have to tell him not to choke you.

Laying in bed next to Captain America while on your semester abroad was probably one of the best moments in your life that you’d never be able to tell anyone about.

“So I figured it out.” You finally said when your breath returns to a steady pace and you’re still wallowing in the afterglow. “It kind of sucks that I’m never going to get to brag about this, but I guess that’s how it goes.” You turned onto your side when you felt him tensing up beside you. You sigh and run a soft hand over his abs, both to calm him and to be gluttonous. “I’m not going to say anything. We’ve all got our secrets.”

“I shouldn’t have done this.” He starts to get up but you grab him by the cock and he hisses, staying still.

“Way to ruin the afterglow honey. Stay a minute. I’m not going to be any more unsafe to you if you let yourself relax a while longer.”

“You don’t understand, it’s not safe for you, it was selfish and-“

“And I probably made you homesick.”

He looks at you from where he’s half sitting up and half laying back, your hand still has a firm grasp on his cock. His eyes are sad you take pity on him, letting go and sitting up to kiss him on the lips.

“Be a gentleman and make me breakfast in the morning before you go.”

He watches you even as you let go of him and lay back down, one arm held out in a silent invitation to cuddle against you.

It takes him a few minutes of internal warring before he finally lays back down and sets his head against your chest. You run your fingers through his hair and let your eyes drift closed. He won’t be there when you wake up, but you’re alright with that.

——

He leaves you the mixing for an omelet in a bowl in fridge, attached to a note that says, “Thank you.”

You roll your eyes and make the omelet. It’s actually pretty well seasoned with a good variety of veg. Who knew Captain America could cook. It makes you a little sad when you think about him cooking just for himself.

Maybe he’s got some of his fellow fugitives with him. It probably wouldn’t be safe and he wouldn’t be missing American accents if he did though.

——

Three weeks later you’re starting to feel like shit but you put it up to the flu.

——

Three months later you admit that it’s not just a couple missed cycles and you go to the doctor.

——

Three years later Captain America is less a fugitive, half the world is dead and you see him in leading a support group while you’re on your way to pick your kid up from a babysitter. You stop in to say hi.

He stares at the kid on your hip who is more or less uninterested in him while he plays with your phone.

“Who’s this?” He asked, and you smiled, a little awkwardly.

“Can we do this in private?”

——

“I’m so sorry.” He groaned, head in his hands while your baby, toddler really, is chasing a ball around the room. It’s kind of like a cat, which you’ve always liked. Equally needy, equally bitchy, equally cute.

“Steve, you don’t really have anything to be sorry for. By the time I went to the doctor you were probably three countries gone, and I didn’t exactly have your number.” You huffed a laugh. “My girlfriend and I manage fine.” Your kid screams in triumph when it finally catches the elusive ball, holding it up high above his head in both hands for you to see. It’s bigger than he is, but that doesn’t bother him.

“Good job honey.” You tell them and they scream and throw the ball to chase it all over again

“Kids.” You tell him with a shrug.

Steve is just watching him with fascination, and it’s kind of endearing.

“I’m not gonna ask for child support or anything.” You finally tell him when he’s been staring at your kid for long enough. “I just saw you and thought you’d like to know. My girlfriend and I are a double income household and with all the assistance programs we qualify for, we make it work.”

“I- Thank you for telling me.” He said, hanging his head again. “I should’ve stayed and cooked you the omelet myself.”

“You did your best. Did you pack up and leave that night?”

He looked up at you and smiled sheepishly, telling you everything you needed to know.

“It was a difficult time, I don’t hold anything against you. I kind of always wanted a kid anyway. We call it our little miracle.”

“You and your girlfriend?” He asked and you nod.

“Yeah.”

“Were you... with her when-“

“Yup.” You say before he has to finish. “We’re pretty open. I like to...” you glance at your toddler and decide to use a euphemism, “Date casually. Just for the night, or two, you know? We’re not really into denying yourself carnal pleasure for the sake of monogamy.”

“I see.” He said, not as surprised as you expected him to be, which was nice. “I just can’t get around it though. I mean, you say he’s mine and I believe you, but we used a condom, how can-“

“Super sperm.” You say with a shrug, “I think one of us would’ve noticed if it broke, but maybe there was some microscopic hole that let something through? I mean, technically they’re only 98% effective, but I always assumed they just said that to cover their own asses. Jay!” You called when you saw your toddler getting dangerously close to a snack table. “Allergies.”

“Mooooom.” Whine. Stamp foot. Throw ball.

“That’s my queue.” You sigh and stand up, digging in your purse for a scrap of paper. You put your number down and hand it to Steve. “Call if you want to see him. I prefer calls. Texts... Don’t text.” You laughed and reached a hand out toward your pouting toddler. “Come on, Jay, Mama’s waiting for us at home.”

“Mama!” He screamed, the nice ear piercing scream that you loved so much, and ran towards you, ready for you to pick him up and carry him all the way to Mama. “Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama!”

“I’ll see you around, Steve. Say bye to Steve, Jay.”

“Bye Steve!” Your baby says without even looking at Steve, but you’re looking at Steve and you see the very subtle glassiness forming in his eyes.

“Bye Jay.”

——

“You found the baby daddy?’

“Crazy, right?” You ask your girlfriend while you’re in the kitchen cooking, Jay sitting (for now) with a coloring book. “I didn’t think I’d ever see him again, turns out he runs a group in the same complex as the gov sitter.”

“Wow. Weird you haven’t run into him before.”

“I usually don’t pick him up this early. You do.” You finally say, and you look at her. “Babe, you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” But she’s working too hard to look innocent.

“Babe, you didn’t!” You throw a crouton at her and it hits her in the shoulder. “You knew!” You’re yelling, but it’s more shocked than angry. You could never be angry at your girlfriend, even if she was definately doing bad things.

“I mean, I knew he was there, but I didn’t purposefully not tell you, I just... Okay, I didn’t tell you on purpose.”

“Babe, that’s fucking rude. I had a right to know.”

“You’ve never talked about looking for him.”

“Well I wasn’t going to, but if he falls into my lap I wasn’t going to keep it from him.”

She’s cutting vegetables solemnly and you sigh, wrapping your arms around her waist. “This doesn’t change anything. Maybe Jay gets an Uncle Steve, maybe he doesn’t. Who cares? We’re what matters. We’re what’s left.” You kiss her on the cheek and she smiles sadly.”

“We have to keep going.” She finally says.

“Because they can’t.” You finish just as Jay runs in with a new coloring sheet for the wall. It’s 100% scribbles and you love it.

——

“Um, hey, Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave this in a voicemail, but I just. I wanted to see Jay. If that’s alright with you? Maybe we can set something up? Um. call me back. It’s Steve.”

——

“So my girlfriend has put a haitus on our one night stands rule.” You say while Jay climbs the McDonalds jungle gym.

Steve chokes on his sandwich and it’s kind of funny.

“You mean-“

“I mean if you want we can totally have the round four I definately deserve. But no pressure if you don’t want.”

He looks at Jay and then at you. You roll your eyes. “What’s the likeliness that it’ll happen again? It’ll be fine.”

——

“Shit.”

——

“Gee!” You yell at your youngest child while they’re running after your oldest. “Gee, you need to put your shoes back on or I’m sending Daddy after you.”

“Steve can’t even catch us.” Jay says with more self-assurance than the average five year old can muster.

“Is this my cue to get the kids.”

“Obviously,” your girlfriend said, slinging an arm around your waist. “We sure as hell aren’t running after them. Serum goes.”

“She’s right.” You smile and shrug tilting your head back for a kiss as he stands. “Sorry, babe. I don’t make the rules. I’m the bottom in both of these relationships.”

“Excuses.” He grins and plants a kiss to your lips. Before he even pulls away his phone is ringing and it’s not a ringtone you recognize. He looks at you, the kids and then at the phone he’s pulling out of his pocket. “This is an emergency number, I have to take it.”

You sigh and stand up. “I guess I can chase my own kids, this once. Get over here you little road runners!”

——

“I can’t believe you did this. You selfish bastard.” You whisper at the old man standing in front of you. “You have kids, you have me. You had a life here.” He starts to speak but you hold up your hand. “I don’t want to hear it. If you weren’t happy you didn’t have to say. Gee is going to be devestated. She loved you.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t-“

“If you ever come anywhere near my family again I will file a restraining order against you. I don’t know what possessed you to do this, Steve, but I hate you for it. I hate you.”

——

You’re sitting in the second row, next to Sharon Carter of all people. You were pretty sure she was dating Steve, before she left, so it makes sense that she’s there. Gee and Jay are wriggling and generally being restless children and you try to manage them as well as you can on your own. Your girlfriend refused to attend. She wasn’t dating Steve, but you think that Steve leaving hit her more than she ever let on.

Sam Wilson gives the Eulogy. It’s very sweet. You throw dirt into his grave and you encourage the children to do the same, even if they don’t quite understand why. One day they’ll understand.

“For what it’s worth.” Sam said when you tried to leave before the funeral was over. He puts a hand on your shoulder like that might comfort you. “He regretted hurting you.”

“Regret won’t give my children their father back.” You tell him, shrugging off his hand, “So it’s not worth much.”

——

Jay is twelve when the truth comes out. Steve Rogers isn’t really dead. It was all just a show, a part of a black op so secret even Captain America didn’t know about it.

He doesn’t come by the house. He doesn’t call. He doesn’t text. He knows you don’t like texts, that texts remind you of ashes, even after everything.

He doesn’t make contact, and Jay starts to get antsy, asks when Steve is coming back. Gee is nearly too young to remember, but Jay explains when you aren’t looking, and wants to know when her Daddy is going to come back already.

You break down and call Steve.

“LIsten you asshole. I don’t give a shit what your reason is, but you get down here and you explain to these kids why you’ve been gone and tell them you fucking love them or so help me god I will raze this earth to find and slaughter you.

He’s on your doorstep the next morning.

——

Things don’t go back to how they were. They can’t. Even after Steve tells you that he was actually stuck in an alternate dimension, raising a child in some of the harshest terrain imaginable, things can’t go back to normal between the two of you. When you find out Sharon knew you were livid. You still don’t talk to her two years later. Steve makes weekly visits, and shows up for dinner every Wednesday like clockwork. Gee is ecessatatic until she’s not. Jay clings to Steve like a lifeline. Gee doesn’t really know her Daddy. She calls him Steve, just like Jay. You see the way it breaks Steve’s heart, but you don’t force her to say something she’s not comfortable with just to make him feel better.

“She loved you.” You hear your girlfriend tell him. “Even after that first time, there was always a wistfulness to the way she talked about you. You went on a black op, whether it went wrong or not is not the point, you went on an op that you didn’t intend to come back from, knowing what you were leaving behind, and you didn’t even say a proper goodbye. If she ever forgives you for that she’s a better person than I am.

——

Jay goes to high school and is completely dissilusioned by all three of his parents.

——

Gee comes home after being bullied for the first time and cries into Steve’s shoulder. It breaks your heart.

——

You go on a date with Steve, but it’s too awkward, there’s no spark anymore. You stay friends.

——

Gee gets a drawing tablet for Christmas that year.

——

Jay runs away for the first time that May. He runs again in August before school starts. Steve blames himself. So do you.

——

You come home and Steve is there, having watched the kids for you while you and your girlfriend both worked overtime to make up for all the time you’d taken off looking for Jay in August. He’s laying across your couch and you’re exhausted so before he sits all the way up you sit down in his lap, straddling him, and lean your entire weight against him until he’s laying down again. You don’t say anything, just lay on top of him and soak in his warmth and presence. If he feels the tears that fall on his shirt he doesn’t say anything.

——

The first time you sleep together in over fifteen years it’s slow, soft, like Steve thinks you might break. You do break, but it’s in all the best ways. If the other hotel guests hear you, they don’t complain. Steve takes you apart piece by piece and you feel like you can trust him to put you back together again. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth while he still tastes like you, and he wipes away the tears that fall down your face.

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers against your cheek and you nod.

“You really don’t.”

His laugh is wet and tears fall from his nose onto your bared skin.

——

You’re laying between your two lovers when Gee comes knocking on the door. “Mom, Ma, Steve, we’re supposed to at the school at 7am and you won’t let me drive myself so get the fuck out of bed.”

“Language,” Steve says, and you snicker. Your girlfriend sighs and gets up.

“No,” you tell her, pulling her back down. “You took her last time. I’ll take her. You stay.”

“Take Jay with you and we can have some quality time.” Steve suggests raising an eyebrow at your girlfriend.

The possibility of a triad has only recently been put on the table, but it excites you to no end. You bounce out of bed, suddenly full of energy at 6:30 in the morning.

“Yes. Perfect. Wonderful. Please do!”

——

The three of you are dressed in soft blue on a beach. Gee just graduated and Jay has come home from Boston to be there. You all three stand in a circle and say vows that aren’t legally binding, but they’re important to the three of you.

——

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers reader insert

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sluttytonystark · 5 years

Text

One Big Fucking Headache

Read it on Ao3!

Tony Stark wants it on record, that since he met his son all those years ago, he had tried and tried, to give Peter the closest thing to a normal life he could get. He also wants it on record, that for the first eleven years, he had succeeded in this. Even with the hecticness of switching between his father’s place and his aunt’s and uncle’s place every other week, Peter Parker had had a normal life outside of the public eye, his father’s fame, his father’s moonlighting as a superhero, and the Avengers.

In all reality, it wasn’t even Tony’s fault-- and no, he was not above blaming his child for this mess, because it was Peter’s fault. Had it not been for the kid's recklessness, the kid would have been home that weekend. Away from the compound, and away from the Avengers. But, if there was one thing Tony Stark had learned in all his years, it was that things never went to plan.

Ever .

Honestly, it was a constant struggle for him.

He'd been going on his twelfth consecutive hour in his lab (Pepper was out of town, he could get away with it), when Friday cut out the blaring music playing over the speakers to announce the arrival of May and Peter Parker at the tower.

Tony looked up from his latest project, brow creasing. “What?” He said, “Is it Monday already?”

“No boss, it is currently four thirty-two P.M. on Friday.”

“Huh.”

He glanced around his lab, beginning to put things away in preparation for their arrival.

“Well,” he said, “let them down when they’re ready.”

“Will do.”

It wasn’t a minute later that a very frazzled looking May walked in with Peter trailing behind, holding his Spider-Man suit.

“Tony, you need to take your kid for the weekend,” May announced, shooting a look at the teenager.

Tony raised an eyebrow, “Ah, so now he's just my kid.” He fixed his son with a pointed look, “What'd you do, kid?”

Peter looked around sheepishly. “Uhh, I might've stayed out a little past curfew...”

Oh, well that wasn't that bad.

“... And I kind of hacked into the suit again.”

Okay, scratch that first part.

“And I might've gotten stabbed. Just a little bit--”

Jesus Christ.

“Just a little bit?” May cried, “Peter, for god’s sake, you came home with a stab wound and you didn't think to tell anybody?”

Tony rushed to his Peter's side, fussing over him like a mother doting on her hurt toddler.

Peter rolled his eyes, huffing indignantly. “I'm fine, Dad. It was just a shoulder wound-- and it was already healing when I got home.”

Once assured that the kid wasn't somehow hiding any injuries, he stepped away, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Jesus Christ kid, what were you-- nevermind. Just, give me the suit and go sit down at your desk or something. Let me talk to your aunt.”

Peter did so, sulking greatly, and Tony had half a mind to remind him that he'd only brought this on himself. He didn't, but he made a point to remember to give the kid one hell of a lecture later on.

Once the spider kid was over at his desk, and out of earshot (or as close to out of earshot you can get with enhanced teenagers), he turned back to May.

“So…” he started, “Is this a thing, just hoisting the kid off on each other whenever we're upset with him? Because if I had known that, I would've done that.”

May rolled her eyes. “No, I told you, I was going out of town for a work function during Peter’s spring break.”

Tony racked through his memories trying to recall such a conversation, his mouth making an ‘O’ when he did eventually remember. Shit. Did he tell her he would take Peter early?

May went on. “I was just going to let him stay home Saturday and Sunday, you know he's old enough to take care of himself, and he was going to stay with you starting Monday anyways… but after this?”

Tony nodded, knowing how she felt.

May sighed, “I mean, I just don't want to be coming home and finding out he went out and got himself shot or something.”

“Yeah, he's a great kid, but he's got the self-preservation skills of, oh I don't know… Me!”

He recoiled at the thought, “Oh my God, that's where he gets this shit from! It’s me, isn't it?”

From across the lab, Peter yelled: “You're a great influence, Dad!”

Tony rolled his eyes but let the comment pass.

May frowned. “So you understand the problem?” She said, giving him an expectant look.

Tony brought his hand to his head, rubbing at the ever permanent, Peter caused headache.

“May…” he started, “You know I'd love to, Peter's welcome here anytime, but-- You've seen the news, right? The rouge avengers are back upstate, and I was gonna head up there to discuss things this weekend…”

He looked to May, hoping that she understood, but she just raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to continue with his excuses.

“Look, I do have a room there for him-- but May, you know how I feel about Peter meeting the team.”

“So?” She snapped, “You know how I feel about Peter going out in pajamas every night, and I've allowed it.”

Tony took a step back, hands up in a placating manner, and she sighed.

“I know how you feel about it, and I've even agreed with you in the past but, Tony, he's already out there risking his life every night, do you really think the Avengers are going to be any sort of threat to him?”

When Tony still looked unsure, she added “Please, Tony. I really don't feel comfortable leaving him home all weekend.”

Tony took a long breath, he really wasn't going to win this one, and he knew it.

“Fine, fine, you know what? That's just fine.” He raised his voice, directing his words to Peter. “Kid, pack your shit, we're going upstate.”

Peter cheered.

The next morning found the father and son on the road at the ungodly hour of nine, which, by normal standards isn't ungodly at all-- but Tony Stark had found that his circadian rhythm had synced up with a nearby raccoon some time ago. Of course, the apple never did fall far from the tree, which led to Peter's insistent whining about being up so early on a weekend, after staying up for who knows how long.

He had explained to the kid that the Avengers meeting he was supposed to be going to started at ten, and really, they should have left an hour earlier if he was going to get there in time.

Peter had nothing to complain about either. He was fifteen; he had the benefits of being able to sleep through car rides. That's what he did too, damn kid slept for the first hour and a half, and left Tony to stay awake talking to himself, or whatever people did on long car rides by themselves.

He didn’t sleep the whole time, though. Peter woke up with an hour and a half still left to go. That wasn't that long, he'd had longer plane rides. But knowing that he could have taken a suit and gotten their much faster kinda put a negative spin on things. There were also the questions-- questions that he knew that Peter knew the answer to already, but asked about anyways.

“So…” He said, “Am I gonna be allowed to meet the Avengers?”

Tony's grip tightened on the steering wheel. “No.” He said, “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Pete, a big reason why your mother didn’t want me in your life at first, was because she wanted you to be a normal kid.”

Peter stiffen in the seat next to him. The topic of his father’s absence for the first four years of his life was a touchy subject for both of them.

“When your aunt and uncle came to me with you, they also wanted you to be a normal kid, and so did I. Being buddies with the Avengers isn’t exactly normal.”

“But I’m Spider-Man ,” he said, turning to give his father an exasperated look, “my life isn't exactly normal anymore.”

Tony shook his head. “It doesn't matter. I'm your father and I don't need a reason.”

Peter was quiet for a moment. Thinking carefully about what was to be said next.

“Is it because of the accords? Because of Siberia?”

When Tony didn't answer he took it as an invitation to continue.

“They say don't meet your heroes,” he said, “But... they stopped being my heroes when everything happened last year.”

An uncomfortable silence followed. Peter twiddled with his thumbs, suddenly finding the outside scenery to be the most interesting thing, while Tony stared straight ahead at the road, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel never weakening.

“The other's weren't wrong, kid-- well, not completely.”

“Yeah, but--”

“Nuh-uh, the adult is talking,”

Peter huffed, slouching in his seat.

“Do we need accountability as heroes? Yes. I said it then and I stand by it now.” Tony paused, taking a minute to think.

“But the accords weren't perfect. I knew that-- I even told Steve they could be changed... But then he got upset about the Wanda thing... He acted stupidly, it happens. Doesn't mean he didn't have a point though, if the accords were left as was, that would have turned into a shitshow very quickly.”

“What about Siberia?”

“Mistakes were made.”

“That guy killed your parents, and fucking Steve stuck a shield in your chest.”

“Hey!” Tony snapped, “Watch your language.”

Peter sputtered, “Really? That’s what you’re caught up on? How are you calm about this?”

Tony shrugged. “I've had time to think.’

Peter took in a shuddering breath, “When Ben was killed,” he began slowly, “I wanted nothing more than to hunt down and kill the guy.”

Tony nodded. “Yes, I remember that. But remember, that guy acted on his own accord, James wasn’t. It's different.”

Peter shook his head. “That's not what I'm trying to say. I-I’ve lost three parents, and I know how it feels, a-and I know that you don't lie, or try to cover up that shit.”

Tony let out a long, drawn-out breath. “No, kid, you really don't. That was shitty.”

Another drawn out uncomfortable silence followed. Peter pulled out his phone and half-heartedly started scrolling through some app, and Tony kept driving, looking at the billboards that flew by when they passed a sleep number advertisement.

“How've you been sleeping lately?”

Peter groaned. “ Dad ,” he said in the typical teenage ‘please-don't-talk-to-me-about-things-I- don't-want-to-talk-about’ voice.

Tony scoffed, “Don't ' Dad,’ me. It's a legitimate concern. I'm your father, I have a right to be worried.”

“I'm fine, ” he insisted, throwing his head back against the seat, “I got a whole six hours last night.”

“You're supposed to be getting nine. ”

“Why are you so worried about this?”

Tony threw an incredulous look at the boy. “Why am I worried? Seriously, Peter? You wake up screaming in the middle of the night. Your aunt tells me you've haven't been sleeping as much as you should lately, that’s a problem.”

“I'm fine . I mean, I've had some trouble sleeping, but not as of late.”

The father gave him a doubtful look but let the subject drop. He had Friday, she could tell whether the kid was telling the truth or not. And of course, May was more than capable of taking care of Peter when she had him. Maybe he should relax a little.

At the lull in the conversation, Peter took the chance to put on some earbuds, and turned his head to look out the side window, a gesture that said, “I'm done talking to you, go away.” Tony rolled his eyes and turned the radio up to a level that would be heard over the music coming from his phone.

Peter shot him an annoyed glance, and Tony made no attempt to hide his smirk.

When they were coming up on the property, Tony turned the blaring music off and reached over to take one of the headphones out of Peter's ear.

“Look alive kid,” he said, “We'll be there in… I don't know, five minutes?”

Peter looked a little chafed from having his earphone ripped out-- because really, who does that-- but nodded anyway, sitting straighter in his seat and putting his headphones away.

“When we get there,” Tony started, “I have to go straight to that meeting I was telling you about. Friday will tell you where to go. Stay on our floor, no wandering off.”

He gave his son a look that said “Because I know you love doing exactly that,” Peter rolled his eyes but didn’t push on the subject. He knew perfectly well how both his father and his aunt felt about him meeting the Avengers, and by saying “Don’t wander off,” his dad actually meant “Don’t go getting seen by any of the others.”

They didn’t go in through the main entrance because that would be very obvious, so they instead went to one of the many alternative entrances that were reserved only for Tony, one that he was pretty sure none of the others had discovered yet. He had designed a few different places of entry for the specific reason being his current situation: having to have Peter tag along with him. Was it extra? Yes. Did he care? Not particularly.

He sent the boy off with a ruffle to the hair, promising he’d be back later, and that they’d watch a movie or something. Peter didn’t quite seem to care about their parting, as he was preoccupied with marveling at his new surroundings. Tony couldn’t help but be a little offended, because he was going to be stuck in a conference room with the Avengers for six hours, and his own son was too busy looking at a wall to give him the time of day.

Well, he soon wished that it was later rather than now because he’d much rather be watching a Star Wars movie he’s already seen eight times than stuck in some tense conference room where hostilities still ran high.

“Stark.” Romanoff had said when he walked in, “You’re late.”

The greeting was terse, and as Tony surveyed the room (Wanda, Wilson, Romanoff, Rhodey, Vision, and Cap were there,) he noted that the team was more than irritated with him, which was fair, he was an hour late-- but he didn’t really care.

“What can I say?” He said, “Traffic was hell.”

Steve frowned at him from across the room, “It's a Saturday morning, how bad was it really? And why didn't you just fly? That would've been faster and wouldn't have left everyone waiting on you for an hour.”

The others, of course, wouldn't know that the circumstances of his arrival had been changed by the sudden acquisition of his reckless son for the weekend. Because Tony had been planning to just fly a suit upstate, it would have been quicker, but he obviously couldn't fly with Peter. Even if he wanted to, he knew Peter wouldn't have it.

For all the Avengers knew, Tony was just being an asshole with no concern other people's time, and since they couldn't exactly know the real reason, he might as well just play the part.

“Hey,” he said with a shrug, “I have a flair for the dramatics. Being fashionably late and all that shit.”

“Do you ever have any consideration for others?”

“Do you?” Tony said, fixing Rogers with a look that said more than words could convey.

Steve didn't rise to the challenge, but he did return the glare at Stark that led the two men into a long and uncomfortable stare off that was awful for both them and everyone present.

“Enough,” Natasha said, slapping her hands down on the table. “We haven't even started here and you two are already fighting. I'm sure the two of you will find plenty to fight about today, so save it, yeah?”

The two backed off, muttering some half-baked apologies, that neither of them really meant.

Natasha was right anyway, they disagreed about anything and everything. It wasn't just Steve and Tony, either. Despite the Avengers being back together, the lot of them very quickly split up into their respective teams, which left Tony with only Vision and Rhodey, and Romanoff being her own party.

It was all one massive headache. When they talked about the accords, the fought. When they talked about the team being back together and where to go from there, they fought. When Tony's shitty attitude was brought up, they fought.

By the end of it all, Tony swore he'd never complain about having to sit through Stark Industries meetings again, because compared to this, those were walks in the park.

When discussions for that day was done, Tony clapped his hands together and announced, “Well, guys it's been hell. Same time tomorrow?”

Silence and unamused frowns across the board. Sam coughed awkwardly, and Steve shook his head like a disappointed mother.

Fortunately, the smothering silence didn't get to go on for more than a couple seconds at most before a series of dings sounded from Tony's suit pocket.

Peter: you've been gone way too long

Peter: i am about to die

Peter: I'm hecking hungry

Peter: if you do not make me food in twelve minutes I will be forced to take matters into my own hands

Peter: vevskxjekdbalal

Tony smiled fondly at his son's antics. “Well, that's my cue to leave,” he said.

He knew full well that that had just raised a bunch of questions, but he was more concerned about not coming back to find his nice kitchen completely destroyed at the hands of a ravenous spider child, than leaving the others in suspense or whatever.

When he was on his way out, he stopped in the doorway on his way out to say, “Someone mentioned Barton was coming later tonight?” Natasha nodded, so Tony continued, “Well then, send him my greetings. I’ll be on my own floor, do your best to steer clear-- not you Rodey-- but for the rest of you all: that wasn’t a suggestion.”

“You couldn’t wait five minutes?” Tony said as he entered the kitchen.

Peter looked up from where he was stationed on the counter, a family sized box of Froot Loops in hand, which he had filled with milk, because apparently, bowls weren’t a thing. He shrugged, looking unabashed.

“You took too long.”

He snatched to box from his son’s hands on his way to the medicine cabinet, “Milk better not be leaking all over my counters from this,” he peered inside to find that half the newly opened box of cereal had already been eaten in the short amount of time that it took for Peter to text him, and for Tony to get back, which-- big yikes.

He knew the kid ate a lot, and he ate fast, and that was expected with his enhanced metabolism, but Christ, all that sugar in that amount of time, and with very little nutritional value, he might add-- a sharp pain shot through his head from his ever-present migraine. God, he needed aspirin, like, yesterday.

Peter snatched the cereal back from his father, who was resigned to just let him have it, because you can’t exactly put away a family sized box of froot loops once it’s already half filled with milk.

“So, how was your Avengers conference thing?”

Tony groaned as he shook two tablets from the bottle. He swallowed them dry before putting the bottle back in the cabinet and slamming the door shut.

“That bad, huh?”

“You don’t know half of it, kid,” he said, eyeing Peter wearily.

Peter hummed, his attention going back to his cereal, “Well at least you're done for the day, and you promised we’d watch a movie, so I was thinking Matilda.”

Tony made a face, “Matilda?”

“What do you have against Matilda?”

“Nothing, I was just expecting you to say Star Wars or some shit, Matilda was not expected.”

Peter shrugged, “Well if you would rather watch Star Wars again…”

Tony put his hands up in a haste, not particularly eager to watch the Empire Strikes back for a fifth time. “No, no,” he assured, “Matilda’s fine, I’ll have Friday rent it.”

Peter cheered, jumping off the counter (with his froot loops,) and booked it to the living room, Tony followed behind, wondering where Peter got his seemingly endless supply of energy, because Tony was always tired, and now Peter was making him feel old, which frankly was just rude.

Two hours later, though, the kid was fast asleep, and Tony had to wonder where all his previous energy had just gone. He was dead tired too, that was sure, but Peter was a teenager, and teenagers were not supposed to knock out cold on their father’s shoulders at eight o’clock in the evening. He remembered with a frown that Peter had mentioned earlier getting six hours like it was an achievement, and Tony realized the kid must’ve been missing out on sleep again (so he was right earlier, and Peter was a liar).

He supposed that right in that moment, it didn’t really matter, because at least he was sleeping now, and Tony couldn’t help but smile, because lately, Peter had picked up the habit of shooting webs at Tony’s face if he even got near him. May had laughed when he told her this, and assured him that he was just going through that “I’m too old to hug my parents phase,” and that she got the same treatment.

That sucked for them though, their kid wanting nothing to do with them, like that didn’t hurt at all. He’d get over it, because it was just part of being a teenager. And he was lucky too, lucky that Peter hadn’t turned out like him, because at least he didn’t have to worry about his kid going out and getting shit faced drunk. It was a nice moment though, and he was at least grateful for that.

Of course with Tony, all good things must come to an end, and that they did. One moment he was sitting there enjoying some quiet with his sleeping child, and the next minute--

“Hey Stark, I was told you were sulking, and honestly, I was kind of offended when you didn’t-- whoa, what the hell?”

Tony quickly shushed Barton, gesturing to the sleeping teenager next to him, the sign all parents knew as “Hush! Baby sleeping!” But then it clicked and, wait, what the hell?

“What thefuck?” Tony said, glaring accusingly at the offending person. Peter stirred at the noise, he leaned away from his dad and blearily examined the current situation. It took the kid a second, but when he processed what had just happened, and who was standing in his father’s living room, his eyes grew comically large.

“Peter, go to your room,” Tony said.

Peter looked like he wanted to argue, but Tony fixed him with that “Do not test me” look, so he trudged back to his room.

When the bedroom door had opened and closed, and Friday confirmed that the teen was in fact in his bed, he turned wildly to Clint.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Uh.. Why am I at the Avengers compound? Well everyone is getting back together, and I was told I should be here for this, so...”

“Why are you on my floor.”

Clint shrugged, “I don’t know. To say hi? The others were pretty much egging me on up here, I’m guessing they were told to stay away?”

“Yes,” he said through grit teeth, “Yes, they were.”

Clint shrugged again, “Oh well. Oops. Nice kid by the way, is he yours?”

“No, Barton, I just let random teenagers hang out in the compound and drool all over my jackets.”

Clint put his hands up to placate him, “Alright, alright, I was just making sure-- how long have you had him?”

“Since before any of you came along,” he scoffed, not wanting to go into specifics about his family past with fucking Barton.

Clint sputtered a little, “Wait, are you serious? I assumed you would have just met him or something. How did no one else know-- and oh my god that actually explains a lot.”

Tony glared at him, jerking back in offence at the suggestion that he hadn’t been present in his son’s life all this time. The headache that had started yesterday just kept getting stronger and stronger with each new situation. He groaned into his hands, and wondered how the hell things had even gotten to this point.

“Hey,” Clint said, reassuring, “Secret dad club, Stark. I won’t tell anyone about this, but if your kid is in the compound, I wouldn’t expect to hold onto that secret for much longer.”

Tony eyed him wearily, knowing he was probably right-- which sucked. He had no idea how the possible confrontation others would react if they found out about his son.

The two stood there in silence, neither knowing where to go from there, Tony rubbed at his collar, and Clint glanced around the room, and down the hall Peter had just went down.

He looked back at Tony, “So, he said,” wearing a shit eating grin, “Just to be clear-- that isn’t a small agent?

Tony picked up a throw pillow from the couch and pegged it at the other man’s head. “Get the hell off my floor, Barton.”

The next day, Peter moped around the kitchen while Tony drank his coffee at the table.

“How do we not have cereal?” He whined, opening and closing cabinets.

“We did have cereal, you ate it all.”

Peter frowned. “Well, why was there only one box?”

Tony scoffed, “Because we’re only here till Tuesday, I don’t like cereal, and an entire family sized box of froot loops can feed one person for three days. You did this to yourself, kid.”

Peter groaned, slamming a cabinet door shut, and dramatically draped himself across the kitchen counter. “I have no will to live.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Peter, get up, and don’t say that.” He walked over to the fridge and inspected it’s contents. He’d had it stocked before they came upstate, so there was a decent amount of food. He grabbed an orange from the crisper and threw it at Peter. “Here, have some fruit, it’s good for you.”

“I want Froot Loops, not actual fruit.”

Tony hummed, “Sucks for you, Kid.”

He grabbed the orange that Peter had pushed away, and forced it into his hand. “Eat,” he said, “I have to go, and Friday will tell me if you throw that away.”

Peter scowled, Friday (and JARVIS when he was younger), had always been the bane of existence. Normal kids could discreetly toss their unwanted food to their dog or in the trash, Peter couldn’t. Friday would always snitch on him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, “I know the drill.”

Tony smirked, “Good, then we’re on the same page. I’ll be back later,” he said, ruffling Peter’s hair as a goodbye. Peter pressed a quick hug to his side in return.

“You better not take ten years, today,” Peter said, “I wanted to go in the lab but Friday said I couldn’t go in by myself.”

“She’s doing her job then. I don’t trust that you won’t set the lab on fire if I’m not there.”

Peter Pouted, “That was one time.”

“Yeah, one time too many,” he said, “I’ll be back at three, stay out of trouble till then.”

“And don’t set the kitchen on fire,” he called over his shoulder.

”It was one time!”

---

Tony was early when he got to the conference room, which would have been a surprise to everyone, had anyone else had been there. The only other team member there was Cap, nursing a cup of coffee. Figures that grandpa would be the first one up and about.

Steve was mid sip when Tony had entered the room, so he choked on his coffee when he realized who had come in so early. Tony barely suppressed an eye roll at this, sure he wasn’t always very punctual, but it wasn’t like him being early warranted such a reaction.

“Tony,” Steve spluttered, “You’re early.” He glanced at the clock sitting in the corner of the room, “like, fifty minutes early.”

Tony shrugged, pulling out a laptop and setting it down infront of him. “I got up early, and I have work to do.”

“Why?”

“Why do I have work to do? I literally own Stark Industries, and I have all this avengers shit going on too.”

“No. Why’d you get up early?”

Because of a certain spider child happened to wake up early.

“What, is having a decent sleep schedule not a thing anymore?”

Steve narrowed his eyes, “Not for you.”

Tony dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “I just got up early, and even if there was a greater reason, it really wouldn’t concern you, Rogers.”

Steve looked a little offended for a second before schooling his expression back into place. He stirred his coffee and Tony turned his attention back to the computer in front of him. The next forty or so minutes were spent in an uncomfortable silence before the others started trickling in, some earlier than others. A few of them (read: Wilson and Maximoff) took a visible double take when they noticed Stark there before anyone else, and others had the decency to not to react because really, him being on time really wasn’t that big a deal-- nor was itthat unusual.

When Barton entered, Tony felt a spike of anxiety when he whispered something to Natasha, but the latter just laughed, and Tony was able to relax, because they were just talking. The way that friends do. He wasn’t exposing anyone’s secrets. It was fine.

Throughout the meeting, Tony felt constantly on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop-- for Clint to announce what he had learned to the rest of the team. But he wouldn’t do that, right? He had kids that he’d kept from the Avengers too, he wouldn’t do another parent dirty, like that. Right?

It didn’t even make sense that only now he was worried about anyone finding out about Peter. He’d had him for eleven years, and no one had found out. Maybe it was the fact that he was just a couple floors above them. All the other times he’d been with the team, Peter had been with May, or on a few occasions, Pepper had volunteered to look after him. This was an entirely new situation. He supposed that his constant unease could also be over their recent falling out. Over what happened in Siberia.

Maybe he’d felt uncomfortable with his child being around the same man who’d protected the man who killed his parents.

Minus Clint and Rhodey (and Rhodey was obviously a given,) no one even suspected that he might be hiding a secret child. They would have no reason to, and he wouldn’t give them a reason either.

Ding

Peter: so hypothetically, i could drink clorox, right? Cause like with anyone else it would destroy their tissue, but I really think my enhanced healing could keep the bleach from corroding my cell tissue

Peter : I mean not that I want to drink bleach but like,,, i could

“Oh, for christ’s sake,” he groaned aloud and all eyes turned to him. He mentally slapped himself when he realized he had voiced his frustration.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he said, “Don’t mind me.”

Steve, the current speaker, gave him a skeptical look, but nonetheless turned the attention back to the discussion, brushing past the disruption.

Once the attention was turned back to the captain, he discreetly passed his phone to Rhodey who was in the seat next to him. ‘Should I be concerned?’ Tony’s face read. Rhodes turned his attention to the phone and snorted when he saw the texts.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he whispered, handing the phone back to Tony. “He’s not stupid enough to try it.”

Tony hummed, typing out a message in response. No, Peter wasn’t stupid at all, but sometimes Tony suspected he might have just a littletoo much faith in his abilities.

Me: You are not allowed around cleaning supplies ever again.

Peter: oh cool you should tell may that

Peter: I won't have to clean the bathroom :)

“Who’s Peter?”

Tony jumped at the voice right by his ear, and jerked his head to the side to see Natasha reading over his shoulder. “None of your business,” he snapped, “Geez, Romanoff, ever hear of privacy?”

She shrugged, “Ever heard of being discreet? Who’s Peter and why isn’t he allowed near cleaning supplies?”

Tony sighed, and felt a slight bit of relief at the fact that she hadn’t seen Peter’s little “I could drink bleach comment,” because that would certainly raise questions. He slipped his phone back in his suit pocket, “Mind your own business Romanoff,” he said.

Tony turned his attention back to Steve, who looked like he was becoming mildly irritated with all the chatter. Natasha turned and raised an eyebrow at Clint, who in return, shrugged like he had no idea what any of that could have been about, a gesture she didn’t believe for a second. Clint had found what Stark was hiding last night, despite his claims otherwise.

Well then. Natasha was a spy, she was trained to question everything. And if Clint wasn’t going to let her in on whatever secret Stark had sworn him to, she’d just find out herself.

It was late. So very late. Tony sat in the living room clutching a cup of coffee like someone was going to take it. He should be sleeping, or at least trying to, but something about lying in a dark room for hours on end just didn’t seem all that appealing. He sat with the TV on, playing ever so softly in the background. He’d sent Peter to bed about three hours ago, it was now three o’clock in the morning, and still, sleep evaded him like a student who’d seen their teacher out in public.

He figured it was the stress, or the headache, or maybe it was the headache, and that headache had been caused by the stress. Maybe his insomnia had just came back with a vengeance. Maybe it was all the coffee he had been consuming-- is consuming. He might never know.

He considered going down to his lab, maybe work on a suit, he still had to rewrite what Peter had changed in the Spider-Man suit, and that included making it harder for the kid to get in to too. The longer he thought about it, the better tinkering around in his lab sounded. It certainly beat just… sitting. Sitting was boring, not his style.

Well then, that sounded like a plan. Too bad he was Tony Stark, because for the second time, plans don’t ever work out for Tony Stark, so…

“You’re hiding something Stark.”

“ Jesus fucking christ!” Tony spun around so quick he could hear the air rushing past his ears. Coffee spilt everywhere, on his shirt, on his couch, on the floor-- God, what a mess.

“ Natasha, ” Steve chided, “I thought we agreed not to sneak up on him.”

Tony sputtered, “What? What the hell are you two doing up here?”

“You’ve been acting weird,” Natasha said, “We want what the hell is going on with you.”

Steve muttered something about phrasing things nicer, but agreed that yes, he was acting weird.

Tony gave the pair an incredulous look, “I’m sorry but can we go back to the part where you thought it was a good idea to dismiss what I asked of you, and snuck up on me at what, three twenty six in the fucking morning?”

Natasha shrugged, “Friday told us you were still up.”

“Get off of my floor!”

“Give us answers.”

“Tony,” Steve started, “We’re just now getting the team back together, and you’re here keeping secrets.”

Tony scoffed, “What? So you can have secrets but I can’t?”

“This is about you, Tony, not me.”

“Oh, get your head out of your ass, Rogers.”

“You first.”

“Both of you, shut up!” Natasha said, getting between the two.

“Seriously? You come to my private quarters, and you’re going to tell me to shut up?”

“Tony…” She started, ever so carefully, “ Who is it that you don’t want us to meet?”

“What? No one.”

“Don’t lie, you’re no good at it,” She said, “You’ve been so adamant that no one comes up here, Barton clearly found out about somethingup here, and there’s that Peter guy you were talking to earlier.”

“Is it an enhanced person?” Steve asked, “A potential team member?”

“What? No,” Tony said, “Nothing like that.”

Nat quirked an eyebrow, “So it is a someone.”

“No! I am not hiding anything or anyone from the rest of you, I don’t know why--”

A panicked scream came from down the hallway where Peter’s bedroom was, capturing all three of them’s attention. Steve and Natasha shared a concern glance, and Steve looked like he was ready to rush down the hallway to take on whatever danger there was head on.

Tony threw up an arm to stop him, “Stop, it’s okay-- don’t follow me,” he said, taking off.

They did follow, despite being told otherwise, but Tony didn’t have the time to tell them off as he threw his son’s door open.

Tony’s heart ached when he saw the sight before him, Peter was sitting upright in bed with his knees curled to his chest. His breathing was ragged and his entire form trembled through tears.

“Oh, buddy,” Tony tsked, rushing to his kid’s side, “It’s okay, Peter, you’re okay.”

Peter looked up at the sound of his father’s voice. His eyes were watery and his lip wobbled, more tears threatening to spill out at any minute. He eyed Tony warily, almost like he didn’t believe he was real, afraid that him being there was just some trick.

“You-you’re alive?” Peter asked.

Tony frowned, “Of course I’m alive,” he said gently, he pulled peter into a tight hug, “I’m not going anywhere buddy.”

Peter buried his face in his father’s shoulder, who in response just held him tighter. “I- I had a dream,” Peter choked out, “Y-you and May… dead. I-I-I was alone.”

“Shh. Shh. It’s okay, Pete. We’re okay, you’re not alone.” He gently rocked the two of them back and forth, a move that both Tony and May had used to ward off bad dreams since Peter was little. It was a comforting gesture, and also extremely personal-- no other people outside Tony’s makeshift little family had ever seen him show anyone that much affection or comfort. So it was very uncomfortable for the father knowing that both Natasha and Steve were standing in the doorway gawking like a couple of idiots.

He shot them a look over Peter’s head that said: “If you’d be so kind, pleasefuck off.”

Steve nodded, but sent him a look that said “this isn’t over,” before the two retreated back to the living room.

Once they were gone, Tony returned his attention back to Peter who was slowing starting to relax, showing signs of returning fatigue. “You getting tired, kiddo?” Pete nodded against his dad’s chest, but made no move to let go.

Sensing that Peter didn’t want to be left alone, he said: “Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?”

Peter sighed a breath of relief, “Y-yes,” he spit out, and Tony felt a little relieved too, because he never did like leaving Peter by himself after these particularly rough nightmares.

Peter was still very shaky, so Tony scooped him up and carried him the way to his room. On any other occasion, Peter would be mortified at having his father carry him like a baby, but in this instance, he let himself be carried, finding comfort in the protective gesture.

Tony set Peter down on the side of the bed that Pepper generally used when she was at the compound with him, and draped the blanket over his shoulders. “I’ll be right back,” he said, running a hand through Peter’s curls, “Do you want the light on?”

Peter didn’t answer, already falling back to sleep very quickly, so Tony had Friday leave the lights on for him-- just in case.

When he returned back to the living room, he found Natasha and Steve bickering.

“You were a shield agent! How did you miss him having a child?”

“I wasn’t looking for a kid, I was scoping him out for the Avengers Initiative.”

Steve scoffed, “Really, Nat? It’s a child, you don’t just miss that! If you’re scoping someone out for something, a good thing to notice would be them having a son, I think.”

“In her defense,” Tony intervened, “The kid was staying with his aunt and uncle when all that shit went down. And it’s not like you ever noticed either, Rogers.”

“Tony, you’re back.” Steve greeted, Tony brushed past him, making to sit on the couch where he could put his face in his hands.

“The kid’s aunt and I worked real hard to keep the fact that he’s my son under wraps. His name isn’t even legally Stark.”

Tony glared at them, “You know, there’s a reason I wanted to keep him from you guys. And when someone tells you to stay on your own floor? There’s a reason for that too.”

Steve frowned, “We’re sorry, Tony. We were afraid you might be doing something reckless. Natasha was pretty spot on about you hiding someone rather than something… But yeah, we’re sorry.”

Tony grunted, neither accepting nor out right rejecting the apology.

“So, we have a lot to talk about.” Nat said, Tony nodded.

“Yeah, we do-- but not tonight, I’m tired and I’m going to bed.”

“Tony, you can’t just drop a bombshell like that, and then not explain,” Steve argued.

“I will bring it up tomorrow, Rogers, so the entire team can discuss it. But right now, it is well past three in the fucking morning, my kid just woke up screaming-- I’m going to bed. You two should do the same.”

Steve sighed, “Fine. Good night Tony, let’s go, Nat.”

Natasha, who hadn’t had a lot to say about the revelation, gave Tony a long lasting look before following Steve. Once they were gone, Tony breathed out a long sigh of relief, and brought a hand to his temple, because Christ, this headache was never going to go away.

He guessed all of that meant working in the lab was now off, but he didn’t really care that much, because all of his energy had been sucked out with a fucking vacuum cleaner after all that.

Tony thought as he climbed into bed next to Peter, that the only bright side to all this was that at least he’d be able to go back to Manhattan tomorrow.

He ran a hand through Peter’s hair as the boy slept peacefully curled against his side, and he smiled. It was a moment like the one last night where Peter had fallen asleep on his shoulder, only this time, Barton wasn’t there to barge in and ruin that. He frowned thinking about Clint, and the rest of the avengers. They would know about Peter now-- that was an eleven year old secret that had just been tossed out the window (he blamed Peter.) He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, nervous for sure. And he was a little worried about breaking that news to May, (though she didn’t seem like she really cared all that much on Friday).

And well, despite any uncertainty he had right about then, he did know one thing: this headache? It was never going away.

#iron dad and spider son #spiderman #spider man homecoming #ironman #avengers #tony stark #peter parker

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