#posted one oc drawing of the main five late at night so heres one of these two early in the morning lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 13: On Your Left

Summary: Steve and Katie meet a new friend whilst out jogging, and Steve is sent on a mission to rescue a ship- the Lemurian Star…but it fast becomes apparent that not everyone on his team is pulling in the same direction.

Paring: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Smut (NSFW, 18+)

A/N: We jump forward a couple of months here and slip straight into the Winter Soldier storyline. Credit to @angrybirdcr for another lovely edit, and this re-post contains additional materiel- I’ve written the mission out instead of merely skipping over it.

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.

Chapter 12 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

End of March/Beginning of April 2014

“Turn it off,” Katie’s voice was muffled from the pillow she had buried her face into as the alarm rang around the dark bedroom. Steve moved slightly to turn it off, but he wasn’t fast enough for his Girlfriend’s liking. “Steve!”

With a huff he leaned over and slapped the offending item with his palm, hitting the snooze button.

“Why is it even set?” She grumbled “It’s not like you don’t normally wake up at the crack of dawn anyway…and who uses an alarm clock when they have a phone?”

“You know, no one makes you stay here.” Steve teased, with a chuckle moving so that his front was pressed to her back.

“You’ve been away for five days, I never sleep as well when you’re not here.” She mimicked his line from the night before in a baby voice.

“And that’s why the alarm is set, because I do sleep better with you.” His arms circled her waist and he grinned to himself as despite the fact she was grumpy and tired she melted into his arms as he nuzzled at her neck, revelling in her smell, her warmth.

“Jerk.” She grumbled. “I mean what time is it anyway?” There was a pause as he continued to simply breathe her in and she glanced at her phone giving a scoff as she saw the ridiculous time on the screen “5:30? In the morning. Five. Thirty…”

“You said you wanted to go running.” He murmured, his eyes still closed.

“No, you said you were going running and I said I might tag along because I’ve eaten nothing but shit whilst I’ve been in New York, which, by the way is your fault…”

“My fault?” Steve laughed, cracking an eye open “I wasn’t even there.”

“Exactly” she muttered “No one to stop me.” “I wouldn’t stop you anyway. You’re a big girl, you make your own decisions…” “Big girl? You calling me fat?” she teased as she rolled onto her back and turned her head to face his, just about making out his features in the dark room. He rolled his eyes, God she was a pain in the ass at times.

“Yeah, you’re huge.” he deadpanned, his hand travelling over her flat stomach and coming to rest on her hip. “Enormous.”

“Ok, well now that we’ve established I need to run, you know on account of me being a hippo, that still doesn’t answer the question why we have to go so damned early anyway. It’s not like we have to be anywhere…” “It’s less crowded.” he shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s because it’s a ridiculous time.”

“Stop being a fucking brat!” Steve laughed and she huffed out breath again.

“I’m not being a brat, it’s just a stupid time to be getting up.”

“I love how full of sunshine and happiness you are in the morning.” Steve muttered as he dropped his head so his lips could gently trail a few lazy kisses down her neck before landing at her collarbone and giving a quick nip, his hand tightening on her hip.

She sighed, her body already starting to respond to his touch, the way it always did, betraying her.

Damned him and his fucking bastard sex appeal.

“Okay, if you want to actually get up now…” She muttered, as his mouth travelled back up and she rolled her head back to give him access to the spot on her neck that drove her wild every time he found it. “I suggest you stop.” “I hit the snooze button.” he muttered, lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “We got about eight minutes left.”

“Eight minutes? You have a very high opinion of yourself.” Katie replied, tilting her head so she was looking at him, smirking.

Steve said nothing, just cocked a single, mischievous brow at her before his lips met hers, his hand running down from hip to thigh then across, parting her legs slightly. They were still naked from the night before, clothes strewn all over the apartment after he’d been so desperate to get his hands on her.

She moaned gently into his mouth as he slowly sank two fingers into her and her hips instantly bucked upwards, drawing a grin from his mouth.

“Easy, Baby.” He whispered, his mouth returning to her neck.

Four minutes later she lay beneath him, a quivering wreck and he was right behind her, two shallow thrusts later as he tumbled over that edge with a low groan, eyes fluttering shut as he fell forward onto her. He smirked into her neck when she had finally regained her senses enough to quip that he’d beaten his best time by a full sixty seconds. And sixty seemed to be the flavour of the day as it was almost another sixty minutes before they got to his favoured running spot, the National Mal thanks to the fact it had taken Katie half an hour minutes to locate her running shoes which she’d eventually found in her car. Steve had seized the opportunity, as always to lament her for the fact she was messy.

“I’m not messy.” She scoffed indignantly as they walked the seven blocks. “I’m just not as OCD about everything being in its right place, all the time, like a neat-freak Soldier”

The good natured jibing had continued until they reached their destination and walked through the park to the reflecting pool

“How many laps did you do last time?” Katie asked, as Steve stretched his arms upwards, cracking his back.

“Six.” he said.

She looked at him, frowning. “That’s like what? Twenty miles?”

“Nearer twenty-two.” He grinned. “You want me to keep your pace?”

She laughed “No way, you’ll just bitch at me for being slow.”

“I do not bitch…” “You bitch like a 14 year old girl.” Katie lamented, gently shoving him in his back. “Now go, go on!”

He smiled again, jogging backwards for a second before he set off at a rate of knots. Exercise always made him feel good. Running, boxing, sparring…fucking. Pushing away the dirty thoughts that had arisen to the forefront of his mind, he was quick to find a comfortable pace, his trainer clad feet slapping the concrete.

It didn’t take Katie long to find her rhythm either. Despite not being with SHIELD anymore she had kept her fitness training up, sparring three times a week with either Natasha or Steve in the local gym. She was technically still an Avenger after all, Tony having now fashioned her another Supernova suit which was basically a version of his latest Iron Man suit but in Silver and Blue, the Nova shaped star sported in the chest where the mini arc reactor powered it. She’d given it a trial run whilst she had been back in New York and was just as impressed with it now as she had been with the prototype he had blown up.

Her feet gently slapped the ground as she ran, the sun was rising on the last day of March and it was promising to be a sunny, bright spring morning.

"Hi.” A voice greeted her as another jogger she hadn’t seen before caught up with her and fell into step with her.

“Nice day for it!” Katie smiled.

“You normally run this early?” He asked “Haven’t seen you around before.”

“That’s because I don’t normally run here!” She smiled “But I just spent 5 days in New York eating crap so…!”

He laughed and held out his hand. “Sam Wilson.”

She took it and gave it a shake. “Katie Stark.”

“Well I’ll be damned!” Sam grinned “I didn’t recognise you. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

As Steve was about to lap Katie for the first time he noticed she was running with another jogger, a black man wearing a grey sweater with short, cropped hair. At one time this would have sparked the green eyed monster in his chest, but not now. Not only did he know she wouldn’t stand for it, but he knew she was just sociable in general. She would talk to anyone given the chance and moreover, she was his girl, he knew that. As he approached them he breathed out an “On your left.” as a warning as he sped past into his second lap.

Sam frowned, looking round and Katie smirked, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as Steve’s frame whizzed off into the distance.

“I never tire of looking at these.” She commented a short while later as they rounded the monument.

Again the sound of heavy footsteps came. “On your left.”

“On your left.”

“Uh-huh. On my left. I got it.” Sam called after him as he entered his fifth lap.

Katie didn’t even try to stop herself this time and she laughed at the slight look of frustration on Sam’s face.

Not long after they were making a lap around the pool at the base of the memorial. Sam gritted his teeth at the wholly unwelcomed sound of footsteps behind him once again, he looked over his shoulder “Don’t say it. Don’t you say it!”

“On your left.”

“Come on!” Sam shouted and Steve allowed an amused smile to spread across his face.

Sam tried his hardest to pick up his speed to match that of Steve’s but failed miserably after only a few moments, now completely gassed out.

“Are you alright?” Katie asked laughing as she approached his hunched over figure, catching her own breath.

“Oh, here he comes…Superman himself…” Sam said gesturing to where Steve was now walking towards them, hands on his hips. He paused at his girl’s side and looked down at Sam.

“Need a medic?” he teased.

“I need a new set of lungs.” Sam chuckled breathlessly. “Dude, you just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes.”

“Guess I got a late start.” He shrugged, shooting Katie a pointed look. She responded with her best innocent stare, batting her eyelids at him. Rolling his eyes, he turned his attention back to the stranger who began to talk again.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap.” He scolded jokingly. “Did you just take it? I assume you just took it.”

Steve smiled, he couldn’t help but like this man. As he looked at him, he noticed the military symbol on his grey sweater.

“What unit were you with?” Steve asked changing the subject and motioning to the man’s shirt.

“Fifty-eighth, Para-rescue. But now I’m working down at the VA. Sam Wilson.” He said motioning for help up.

“Steve Rogers.” Steve held out his hand and pulled Sam to his feet.

“I kind of put that together.” Sam said as he tried to catch his balance. “Must have freaked you out, coming round after the whole defrosting thing.”

“It takes some getting used to. But I’ve had help.” He smiled, looking at Katie who grinned back. “Good to meet you Sam.”

“Yeah, bye Sam!” Katie smiled as Steve gently placed his hand on her lower back to steer her away.

"It’s your bed right?” Sam called out from behind him.

Steve paused and they both turned back around. “What’s that?”

“Your bed, it’s too soft.” Sam went on to explain. “When I was over there, I’d sleep on the ground and use rocks as pillows. Like cavemen. Now I’m back home, in my own bed, feels like-”

Steve cut him off. “Like lying on a marshmallow, feels like I’m gonna sink right to the floor.”

"How long?” He asked Sam

“Two tours.” Sam responded. “You must miss the good old days huh?”

“Well, things aren’t so bad.” He folded his arms, taking a quick glance at Katie who raised her eyebrow at him, teasingly. “Foods a lot better. We used to boil everything. No polio that’s good.” He paused before making a gesture with his hand. “Internet so helpful, I’ve been reading that a lot tryna’ catch up.”

Sam nodded and then moved his right hand from where it had been folder across his chest and held it, fingers extended. “Marvin Gaye, 1972, ‘Troubleman’ soundtrack.” He said, returning his arm to its resting position “Everything you’ve missed jammed into one album.”

“Ohhh man!” Katie groaned “I love that film.”

Steve nodded, smiling and pulled out the notebook she had bought him the previous year, “I’ll put it on the list.”

“We can download it later.” Katie offered. Steve smiled as he closed his book before he reached into his other pocket for his phone which was going off. It was Natasha.

'Mission Alert. Extraction imminent. Meet you at the curb :)’

He showed the message to Katie who read it whilst he looked over at Sam.

“Well Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run. If that’s what you wanna call running.” He joked extending his hand.

“Oh that’s how it is?” Sam says amused shaking the offered hand.

“That’s how it is.” Steve responded, laughing slightly.

“Okay, anytime you two wanna stop by the VA. Make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Steve said as Natasha pulled up in her black chevvy sports car.

“Hey guys, anyone know where the Smithsonian is? I’m here to pick up a fossil.” She quipped.

“Hey Nat!” Katie waved at her and she nodded whilst Steve simply shook his head.

“That’s hilarious.” He commented dryly as he turned to Katie. “I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?” She took a deep breath. “Be careful.” She instructed as she leaned up to give him a kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Steve made his way to the car, opened the passenger side of the car and dropped into the seat.

“How you doing?” Sam called with a smile as he squat down to get a better view of both Natasha and the car.

“Hey.” She responded with a small smile.

“Can’t run everywhere.” Steve joked smugly, looking back at the man.

“No you can’t.” Sam chuckled and Steve shot one last look at Katie who waved as Natasha surged the car forward.

Katie watched them go before she turned to Sam.

“Military girlfriend huh?” He teased and she laughed.

“Something like that.” “Fancy a coffee?” Sam nodded to one of the stands parked over on the square and she smiled.

“Sure, why not?”

Sam insisted on paying, despite Katie’s protests and they took their coffees over to a bench, sitting down in the early morning sun. As they talked, Katie fast realised she really liked this man, and he was pretty damned interesting too. He told Katie about his time serving in Afghanistan and how he had chosen, post the loss of his partner, Riley, to leave active service and focus his attention on helping others through work at the VA.

Katie had never really dug into the VA much, but it seemed like it did some pretty good work, helping those Soldiers who needed help adjusting to life post discharges for medical or mental health reasons. Sam confided in her that the DC branch was under threat due to lack of funding, and she made a mental note to speak to Tony about it being something that maybe the Stark Relief fund could look into partnering.

When they both realised they had been sat on the bench chatting for almost an hour and a half the pair of them both, knowing they had other places to be, exchanged numbers and she promised to pass his onto Steve.

The rest of her day went pretty quick, in a flourish of telephone conferences and various other ad-hoc emails to deal with, talking to the editors and Business Development team about potential authors to target. By the time she logged off for the evening it was gone eight. She leaned back in her chair, glancing up at the photos that decorated her office, her eyes being drawn to the one on the shelf of herself and Steve which had been taken at the New Years Eve gala last year.

Picking up her phone she debated texting him, but she knew better than to bother him. From personal experience, STRIKE missions were heavy going. Instead she decided she was going to break with their usual routine whereby he would come to hers if it wasn’t too late post mission, and she was going to wait for him at his.

******

“The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star.” Rumlow spoke, moving images along a screen as they all stood watching as the jet flew over the Indian ocean. “They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, ninety-three minutes ago.”

“Any demands?” Steve asked.

“A billion and a half.”

“Why so steep?” Steve asked, frowning. That wasn’t so much steep as fucking vertical.

“Because it SHIELD’s.” Rumlow replied and Steve took a deep breath.

“So it’s not off-course, its trespassing.” He said exasperatedly, turning to his left and looking at Natasha.

“I’m sure they have a good reason.” She met his eyes, her face not faltering for a second.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of being Fury’s janitor.” Steve raised his eyebrows as she looked back at the screen.

“Relax.” She drawled. “It’s not that complicated”

“How many pirates?” Steve looked back at Rumlow.

“Twenty-five.” he replied, once more swiping at the screen. “Top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc” he pulled up a photo of Batroc on the monitor. “Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol’s Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. This guy’s got a rep for maximum casualties.”

“Hostages?” Steve pressed.

“Uh…mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell.” Rumlow flashed up Sitwell’s photo and Steve shifted slightly “They’re in the galley.”

“What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” He queried, an air of frustration in his tone as he pulled on his gloves before he took a breath and issued his instructions without waiting for an answer. “Alright, I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you’ll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep up after, find the hostages, get them to the life-pods, get ‘em out. Let’s move.”

“STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up.” Rumlow nodded to his team and they all began to bustle around the jet.

Steve moved towards the back, checking his ear piece, raising his wrist communicator to his mouth. “Secure channel seven.”

“Seven secure.” Nat picked up a few more bits of equipment from the shelves, passing a coms device to Evans as Steve walked behind her to the ramp. “Did you do anything fun Saturday night?”

“Well, seeing as all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, I had to settle for a movie and pizza with my girl.” He shrugged as he fit his ear piece, a smile tugging at his face. “Yeah, it was fun.”

Natasha grinned and Evans gave a chuckle as the pilot spoke into his ear. “Coming up by the drop zone, Cap.”

Steve punched the button to lower the ramp before he grabbed his helmet.

“You know, I think it’s cute. You’re like a regular, normal couple.” Evans said, and Steve turned to him as he fastened the straps on his helmet.

“That’s because we are normal.” He replied, a little louder as the noise of the air blowing through the ramp surrounded them. Steve grabbed his shield and swung it onto his back, the irony of his statement making him smile even more as he walked towards the end of the ramp.

“Yeah, because most people do this type of stuff for a living.” Natasha shot after him and he turned to face her, smirking.

“Well, at least it doesn’t get boring.” He grinned, before he threw himself off the jet.

“Was he wearing a parachute?” Rollins turned to Rumlow who gave a huff of a smile.

“No. No, he wasn’t.”

Steve held his arms and hands out to the side of himself as he was free falling through the air, before he shifted, straightening his legs out below him and crossing his arms over his chest. He speared straight into the ice cold water below and, after a moment to adjust, he started swimming toward the ship, using the anchor chain to climb up onto the deck. He dropped silently over the railings and grabbed the guard who had walked past seconds before in a choke hold, rendering him unconscious as noiselessly as he could. Then he set off at a sprint and it wasn’t long before he encountered two more of the pirates. Using his shield he hit the first one and took him down then sent the vibranium weapon flying once more where it ricocheted off the hull of the boat and took down the second. He caught it and continued running around the side of the deck where he encountered another three. The first one he dispatched with a harsh kick, taking the others down with a quick leg swipe and a harsh punch to the face. The next one he saw wasn’t looking so Steve sped up and used his momentum to shoulder barge him over the side of the ship, before he launched at the next one, taking him down with a swinging choke hold. The one after had a knife, which was slightly more inconvenient, but Steve managed to disarm him and used the dagger he now had possession of to pin one of the other guards hands to the wall as he was reaching up to hit the alarm button, before knocking him out with a kick to the head.

That was how it went for the most of it. Steve ran the entire deck, taking everyone down using his shield, arms, legs, body, any means he had before anyone could raise the alarm. And he was almost home and dry, until he dispatched of what he thought was the final merc, until as he caught his shield, he heard the click of a gun right behind his head.

“Bouge pas!” The man spoke and Steve tilted his head slightly to glance at the man in his peripheral, understanding the words to mean don’t move. So he didn’t, especially not as he had just spotted Rumlow drifting down towards the deck. The STRIKE leader shot at the pirate, taking him down and landed a few feet away.

“Thanks.” Steve nodded to him.

“Yeah. You seemed pretty helpless without me.” Rumlow joked and Steve turned to see Natasha and Evans parachute down onto the deck to join them.

“So you know you said before about things not getting boring?” Natasha asked as they strode across the deck, Steve slinging his shield onto his back. “If you ever need any tips on how to keep it from getting boring in the bedroom, just ask.”

Steve shook his head and let out a groan.

“When you gonna ask her to move in with you?” Nat continued.

“Secure the engine room, then we can talk about my sex life and living arrangements.” Steve deadpanned back

“I’m multitasking” Nat sing-songed as she effortlessly hopped over a set of railings, disappearing onto the lower part of the deck.

Steve set off at a run, vaulting up a few steps, using railings to swing himself onto the higher level of the ship before he stopped just below the bridge, shooting one of Lawson’s listening devices at the windows. He listened in as Batroc instructed his men to fire the engines and then Steve retreated to a spot where he could see Batroc clearly through the window of the control bridge. Crouching down he continued to listen into their conversation, easily able to understand the French they were speaking, one of his many skills picked up in the war. It had come easy post the serum, as with everything it had enhanced his ability to memorise and grasp things like that.

Batroc was being informed by one of his officers about the radio silence from SHIELD and Steve watched carefully before Evans’ voice cut across the jabbers of French.

“Targets acquired”

“STRIKE in position” Rumlow replied.

“Natasha, what’s your status?” Steve whispered into his wrist coms, but there was no reply. “Status, Natasha?”

“Hang on!” She said loudly, and Steve waited as he heard a bit of a struggle before she spoke again twenty or so seconds later. “Engine room secure.”

That was it, they were clear to engage.

“On my mark” Steve whispered “Three. Two. One.”

With that he set off running towards the bridge, leaping up a small set off steps before he flung his shield through the window. He jumped in after it and Batroc caught him with a kick to the chest before sprinting off and kicking his way out of the door. Steve jumped up, wrenched his shield from where it had been wedged in the metal panels at the back of the control room and ran after him.

“Hostages on route to extraction.” Rumlow informed as Steve emerged onto the end of a set of steps. “Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap.” The STRIKE leader continued as Steve jumped down onto the main area of the deck. “Hostiles are still in play.”

Steve looked around before he turned on his heels and started walking “Natasha, Batroc’s on the move.” He instructed quietly into his coms. “Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages.”

There was no reply, and Steve was starting to get pissed off at her radio silence.

“Natasha!”

But then, out of nowhere Batroc flew at him with another harsh kick which sent Steve flying, and no sooner had he righted himself, there came another. The two engaged, toe to toe, fists flying, legs kicking, arms blocking and Steve had to hand it to Batroc, even after he knocked him down with his shield, the man was quickly back on his feet. Steve aimed a knee to his gut and flipped him backwards only to see Batroc effortlessly fling himself into several back flips before landing on his feet a short distance away, smirking as he eyed Steve up.

“Je croyais que tu étais plus qu'un bouclier.” He chuckled slightly and Steve cocked his head to one side, chewing over the man’s words… I thought that you were more than just a shield.

The arrogance in Steve won out and he straightened up out of his attack stance. You wanna go, fucker? Fine. Let’s dance.

He took a breath, stashing his shield on the harness round his back, and undid his chin strap, pulling his helmet off. “On va voir.” He said simply, tossing it to the floor, his eyes not once leaving Batroc’s who gave a huge grin.

They dodged for a second or two before they began to fight once more, trading punches, kicks and a few more knees to the gut before Steve threw himself up into the air, twirling his body round into a huge over-head kick, connecting his boot straight with Batroc’s head. Batroc fell to the floor and soon staggered back to his feet, but Steve didn’t give him chance to recover properly. He ran at him, spearing them both through a door, and sitting up slighting, Steve knocked Batroc out with a huge punch to the head.

He took a moment to draw his breath when a voice rang out across the room.

“Well, this is awkward.”

He looked up to see Natasha smirking at him from where she was bent over a computer.

“What are you doing?” Steve demanded as he rose to his feet.

“Backing up the hard drive. It’s a good habit to get into.” She retorted.

Steve glanced over his shoulder, happy Batroc was still out cold, before he strode purposefully towards her.

“Rumlow needed your help. What the hell are you doing here?” He drew up behind her and glanced at the screens. As it registered what she was doing he shook his head in exasperation. “You’re saving SHIELD Intel.”

“Whatever I can get my hands on.” She drawled, still tapping at the computer as she looked at him, before turning back to the screen.

“Our mission is to rescue hostages.” Steve glared at her.

“No. That’s your mission.” Natasha corrected as she finished what she was doing and pulled the pen drive out of the slot. She turned towards him and smiled causing Steve’s anger to bubble even more. “And you’ve done it beautifully.” Her tone was almost patronising as she smirked, moving to pass him.

At that, Steve felt his temper snap and he grabbed her arm stopping her in her tracks. “You just jeopardized this whole operation.”

“I think that’s overstating things.” Natasha stated calmly but before Steve had time to reply a movement caught his attention. Batroc stood up and threw a grenade at the two of them as he ran off. Steve deflected the bomb with his shield before he grabbed Natasha round the waist and hopped up onto the desks. Jumping to another one, Natasha shot out one of the glass windows into an internal office and they dived in just as the bomb exploded.

Smoke, ash and debris rained down on them and Steve gave it a second before he looked over his shoulder and out before sitting back down to take a moment. He was beyond pissed off. Pissed at Natasha and pissed at Fury for not bothering to tell him the full story.

“Okay. That one’s on me.” Natasha breathed out.

“You’re damn right.” Steve grit his teeth and pushed himself up, storming out in anger. Of course, Batroc was nowhere to be found.

**** Steve was that angry about the cluster-fuck of a mission that he didn’t speak a word to Natasha all the way home and yes, he knew it was childish, but he was getting seriously pissed off at the secrets and lies that seemed to be part and parcel of any goddamned mission Fury sent him on. Once back at base he stormed off the jet, ignoring pretty much everyone and simply barking out that they would debrief in the morning.

It was just before midnight when he got home, and as he pulled his bike up into the designated space allotted for his apartment, he noticed Katie’s car was in one of the guest spaces that lined the street. He frowned slightly, she never normally waited at his for him. Not for any particular reason other than he normally spent the hours or so after a mission debriefing before heading home to decompress for a few hours and then if it wasn’t too late he would head to hers. But the more he thought about it now he realised that he had no idea why he did it that way. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand what it was like being a SHIELD operative, or that he didn’t want her at his.

Knowing that she was there made him smile for the first time since he’d left the Lemurian Star and, despite his various aches and bruises, he found himself taking the steps to his apartment three at a time, his eagerness to see her wiping all other thoughts from his mind.

She was on the couch, bare denim-short clad legs tucked underneath her, and she looked up from the TV as he walked into the living area and leaned in the doorway, smiling softly at the sight of her, hair tousled slightly from where she had been leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

“What are you doing here?” He asked gently as she sat up.

“Decided I’d wait for you.” She shrugged “You complaining?” “Not at all.” He smiled, turning away as he unzipped his jacket and hung it over the back of one of the stools by the breakfast bar before he crossed the room.

“You had a good day?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She replied as he walked back into the lounge. “Vanity Fair have written the article already, if I’m happy with it tomorrow then it’s going to be published this month.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at her tone. She was proud, and she had every right to be. So was he. Stark Independent Publishing LTD had taken off like a rocket and the glossy magazines were queuing up to interview the youngest Stark prodigee. She had declined all of them until the board had suggested she do one interview for Vanity Fair, along with a photoshoot in her office. She’d reluctantly agreed, but had confided in Steve she’d actually kind of enjoyed it.

“That’s fast.” he said, heading back into the room.

“Yeah they’re really pushing for it.” She smiled as he dropped besides her with a groan, lifting her legs up so they crossed his lap. As he did so he jostled the bruised ribs and muscles he’d obtained on the Lemurian Star and let out a hiss, rubbing slightly at his torso. Katie spotted this, as always, and frowned, moving her legs so she was sat up, scooting over to where he was and gently tugged at his t-shirt. He didn’t stop her as she examined the large bruise over the side of his ribs and gently ran her fingers over it.

“Ouch.” She mumbled softly, looking up at him and then tilting his face round. He knew there was a small cut on his temple but other than that and the bruise to his side he was uninjured. “Is this it?”

He nodded.

“So how did you do it this time?”

“I got blown through a window.” Because that was a perfectly normal thing for Captain America to do, Katie merely rolled her eyes and dropped a kiss to his cheek as she stood up “I’ll get the arnica and fix you something to eat”

He loved this, the way she just wanted to take care of him, but he was aware of what time it was too, and he didn’t want her to feel like she had to play the dutiful housewife.

“Kitten, you should go to bed, its late.” He grabbed her hand. “Once I’ve patched you up and fed you I will.” She shrugged stubbornly, tugging gently on his hand and he allowed himself to be pulled up “Go take a shower, I’ll sort your dinner.”

This time he didn’t protest, simply smiled, dropped a kiss to her head and headed to the bathroom.

He stepped under the hot water cascading from the shower and let out a groan as it hit his body, allowing it temporarily to soothe his mind and his aches. He still couldn’t shake his annoyance at how the mission was gone. Suddenly, he was distracted by his stomach grumbling and he realised he was actually really hungry. He quickly washed off before cutting the water and stepping out, grabbing a towel. He could hear Katie in the kitchen as he walked down the hall towards his bedroom where he dried himself off and dressed in a pair of loose sweats and a grey T-shirt.

The smell of food hit his nostrils as he walked into the kitchen, making his mouth water. Her food was always good, he had no idea what he was in for tonight but he didn’t care. As he approached where she was stood, both his hands dropped to her hips and he placed a soft kiss on her neck, an easy sign of affection before he let out a heavy sigh and reached into the refrigerator.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened?” She asked, turning to look at him as he downed pretty much an entire bottle of water before he slumped down at the breakfast bar and explained everything to her. She listened, asked questions, shook her head, and when he reached the bit about the ransom she whistled slightly through her teeth, coming to the same conclusion he had when he heard the demand.

“That’s steep.” she frowned and Steve snorted.

“That’s what I said. Turns out its SHIELDS.“

The microwave finished and Katie moved to open the door, stirring whatever was in there before removing it and placing it down in front of him, along with a plate of his favourite bread. He was silent for a moment as he stirred the hot stew, Ghoulash, before taking a small mouthful to test the heat. Damned she could cook. He nodded appreciatively.

“It’s good.” “You sound surprised.”

“Behave.” He admonished, giving her a look. “You know what I think about your cooking.”

He continued to eat as she stood up and fished about in the cupboard he stored the bottle of Arnica gel she insisted he keep to hand. As he ate, she settled next to him and hitched his shirt up, gently and carefully applying the ointment to his side. The bruise extended from the middle of his rib cage to an inch or so beneath the band of his sweats.

It was relaxing, and he relished her touch and her gentle tone as she continued to talk.

“So did you get the hostages?”

“Yeah.” He nodded in between mouthfuls. “That bit was pretty easy all things considered.”

“So what’s wrong, love?”

She could tell there was more to his mood than what he had told her, and her instincts were proven right when he let out a soft sigh as she continued to rub at his side softly.

“I’m just annoyed Sweetheart.” He sighed eventually “At Fury, at Romanoff.”

“At Nat? Why?”

“She was running a separate mission, which meant the task I gave her to back Rumlow up with the hostages wasn’t done.”

“Fury?”

He nodded.

“More secrets” Katie sighed, feeling a flash of anger. “You know this is exactly why I got out…legacy or no legacy.”

“Tell me about it.” He dropped the spoon into the empty bowl. “We were lucky no one was hurt, or worse. I mean, Rumlow was great, got everyone out but, Doll, how can I lead a team when half of them are lying to me?”

“Nat was just doing as she was told.” Katie spoke softly, trying to deal with each issue one at a time.

“Since when is retrieving Intel more important than people’s lives?”

“I’m not saying it is. I’m just saying don’t be so hard on her.” She reasoned, her fingers still tracing shapes on his skin. “She has a job to do, same as you. Its Fury you should be talking to about it.”

“Oh I intend to.” Steve snorted. “I’m going to go see him tomorrow morning after de-brief…”

“Well, at least you’ll get an explanation. I mean it might not be what you wanna hear but…”

She was right, of course. Pushing it from his mind, Steve concentrated on her touch as she was still gently rubbing his side. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of contentment, and was disappointed when she finally finished and let his t-shirt fall down before she stood up to put the ointment away.

“You want any more to eat?” She asked, once she’d washed the arnica off her hands.

“Is there any?” He looked at her hopefully.

She smiled, nodding, and then gave a small yawn which she tried to stifle, but Steve noticed it.

“Okay, I’ll warm some more up and you’re gonna go to bed.” He said, standing up “And that’s an order.”

“Bossy bastard” She retorted. He replied simply with a raised an eyebrow and stern glare as he crossed towards her. She held her hands up, “Okay, I’m going…” She leaned up to kiss to his cheek.

“Won’t be long.” He smiled.

Steve had another bowl of food before he slipped the dishes into the dishwasher and headed to the bathroom to clean his teeth. He turned off the lights, crossed into the dark bedroom and pulled off his T-shirt, sliding into bed behind Katie. His arm curled over her waist, surprise surprise she was in one of his shirts, which did nothing to ebb his growing desire and the twitching in his groin. Hoping she wasn’t asleep, his nose gently nuzzled at her neck, and he was pleased when she responded.

He needed this. Wanted this. Wanted her.

“When you told me to go to bed…” Katie sighed, as his lips gently started their assault on that spot, “I thought you meant to sleep.” “Want me to stop?” Steve practically purred into her neck.

“Didn’t say that.” She replied, rolling her head to catch his lips as his hand crept down her inner thigh. She let out a contented sigh and he smiled against the side of her neck as he traced his fingers over her hip, hand flattening as it crept down and round to the top of her panties, his fingers slipping inside, where he found her hot, wet, ready for him. It was enough to harden him completely as he started to gently tease her, causing her to groan at the pleasure, her back arching whilst his lips continued to kiss and caress her neck.

“Steve.” She moaned softly, her tone pleading. “I want you…”

Fuck, he would never get tired of hearing that. Ever.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“Yeah. Please Stevie.” He didn’t think he’d ever be able to say no to her. His hand moved up and he gripped at her hip, gently rolling her so she was lay on her back, using his leg to part hers. He guided his shirt over her head, pulled down her panties, before he stripped off his boxers, fingers lacing in between hers, as he crawled over her, pinning both hands above her head as he worked his way into her. They both groaned as he stretched her, and she looked up at him, those eyes locking onto his as he leant down to kiss her, starting up a slow, gentle pace. He moved slowly, again and again, lips caressing hers, then her jaw, then her neck, all the time his hands wrapped around hers, causing her to surrender to him completely.

He kept up that soft, gentle pace, loving her completely. He could tell she was close, he knew the signs well enough now and as she groaned in delight, tightening around him he coaxed her, “That’s it baby girl…” lips soft on her ear.

And then she came, shuddering underneath him, her head tipping back, as she let out a gentle, low, broken moan of his name. It sent shivers down his spine and he continued to thrust through her orgasm, the tale heat spreading across his belly and then he tipped too, jerking and groaning slightly before he fell forward, burying his face in to her neck.

“Love you.” She whispered softly into his ear as her hand ran up his neck, into his hair and he gave a hum of contentment as he regained control of his senses.

“Love you too, so damned much, Sweetheart.” He rubbed his nose up against hers and she chuckled slightly as he rolled off of her. She scooted closer so she could lay her head on his chest and his arm curled round her, large hand tracing shapes on her skin at the bottom of her back as she tossed her leg over his.

“What time are you in tomorrow?” She asked gently, hand rubbing absentmindedly over his chest.

“Half nine.” He gave a sated yawn.

“We can have breakfast together, I made cinnamon rolls.” She muttered through a yawn of her own.

“That so?” “mmmhmmm”

“You know, you’d make a good little housewife.” He grinned, thinking back to his thought before. He knew her response before she had uttered it. “Fuck you.” He chuckled, dropping a kiss to her head and they both fell silent. And his last thought as he drifted off to sleep was just how her being here had made him almost forget his worries.

Katie lay still, listening to the sound of his breathing which grew even as he fell asleep, clearly exhausted. He always needed food and rest after missions, his metabolism drained him. She stole a glance up at him, long eyelashes lay against his cheek as his head lolled to the side slightly, facing her.

“Night soldier.” She whispered softly, placing a peck on his lips before settling down and succumbing to her own tiredness. ********* Katie woke the next morning, tangled in Steve’s arms, his face pressed into her neck as he’d done his usual koala impression. As gently as she could, she moved to check her phone for the time, and found it to be twenty-five past seven, five minutes before her alarm was due to go off. Cancelling it, she glanced back over at Steve who shifted onto his back, the arm that had been thrown around her gently resting on his chest. Smiling, she climbed out of bed deciding to leave him to sleep as long as she could.

Considering what a light sleeper he normally was, Steve didn’t stir when Katie returned following her shower and was still out of it when she finished dressing so she unset the alarm on his bedside clock and headed to the kitchen. She put on a fresh pot of coffee, threw the fresh rolls she had made the previous day into the oven and settled down on his couch, flipping on the TV whilst she quickly scanned through her phone, looking at her schedule for the day. She only had one meeting in the afternoon, and it wasn’t important so she fired an email through to her PA asking her to reschedule.

At about eight-fifteen, there was still no sign of Steve so Katie headed through to the bedroom to wake him up. Any longer and he would be late for his debrief. He was lay side on, facing her side of the bed so she dropped next to him…

Something was tickling his nose, right on the bridge. He gently sniffed, and then soft lips met his. Again, again…Steve made a completely involuntary noise that was halfway between a groan and a sigh as he realised his girl was kissing him awake, before her lips met his and this time he gently responded.

“Hey.” That soft voice greeted him and he smiled, gently cracking an eye open and meeting that emerald green.

“Morning” He said groggily and she smiled.

“It’s almost eight-fifteen.”

He frowned, that was late. “My alarm didn’t wake me?” “I turned it off, sorry-not-sorry” She said with a tone so blasé it made him chuckle “You needed the rest.” She gave him a soft kiss again “There’s coffee in the kitchen and breakfast is ready.” “You know I could get used to this” He rolled over so he was on his back as she rose from the bed. “Coming home to a ready-made dinner, waking up to ready-made breakfast before I go to work. And you.” “Nice to see which one of those is your priority.” She teased over her shoulder as she left him to it.

“Always you, Doll.” he murmured with a smile. But as he lay still for another few minutes, he thought about it more and more. Over the past four months, other than when they were away either on missions or business trips they had spent every night together, either at his or hers but last night, something had felt different to him, more intimate. She’d taken care of his mission injuries, cooked for him, made love to him, and now here she was making him breakfast before she would wave him off to work later on. It was almost normal, what people with mundane nine to five jobs did. And he realised he wanted that all the time, he wanted to come home, find her there, wake up with her, every single day.

“When you gonna ask her to move in?” Natasha’s voice popped back into his head.

If he was honest, he hadn’t given it a lot of thought, it wasn’t something people did back in his time before marriage. But times were different, hell he was different, and as he lay there contemplating it, he realised, it wasn’t such a bad idea.

When he headed through, Katie was sat at the kitchen table, laptop fired up, mobile glued to her ear.

“I know!” Her tone was one of utter excitement. “I mean I didn’t think they would turn out so good…or they’d be done so fast but they’re pushing for this month’s edition…”

He dropped a kiss to her neck and glanced at the screen, pausing when he saw the image. It must have been one of the photos done whilst she was in New York and as he looked at it, he felt his mouth drop open. His girl was stood against a wall in her office in the tower, one leg bent, high heeled foot raised back against the flat surface behind her, palms splayed either side of her thighs as she looked to the right. Her hair was pulled back in a slick, high pony tail, her make-up was heavier than normal and utterly flawless, and she was dressed in a grey charcoal pinstripe suit which cinched in at her waist, with a low cut white blouse underneath.

“Yeah, I know Tony.” She continued speaking into the phone as she glanced up and saw the expression on his face. She pressed a button on the keyboard and it flipped to another picture, this one of her sat in her chair, legs apart, elbows resting on her knees, as she looked beyond the camera, laughing at something. She looked absolutely fucking stunning. His eyes roved the image on the digital copy of the article and he began to read the writing that was next to it.

There are a lot of things you might absolutely hate about Katie Stark. Aged just twenty-nine she has more money than anyone could possibly wish to spend in a life-time, looks and a figure that you would kill for, and a Super Soldier Boyfriend with a jawline that seems to be carved from marble. However, after thirty seconds in her company despite wanting to hate her for all of the above, it was simply impossible not to like her.

Unassuming, accommodating, and with a smile that you simply can’t help but return, she welcomed us into her office and was remarkably humble about the entire thing, admitting that she still wasn’t quite so sure why we were so interested in her. We took the time to grill her on how the first three months of Stark Independent Publishing LTD has gone and what we can look forward to in the future.

Katie stood up and gestured for him to sit down and carry on reading the article. She headed off into the living room, continuing her call, so he read as he ate a hot cinnamon bun. The article ploughed through a load of questions about the book that had launched the business when they published, the fact the company had already registered over fifty-percent first quarter turnover, where she thought the business was going, future pipeline projects, her favourite authors, genre, books, previous role in Stark Industries before she had spent a few years working for a Government Agency following the Battle of New York (no mention of Supernova or SHIELD) and then the final paragraph took a personal turn.

When asked if she would indulge us with a personal question she sighed slightly before grinning and telling us to ask and see if she answered. So we did…

“We know that you’re a notoriously private person, in comparison to your brother anyway, but most of our readers are dying to know…what’s it like dating Captain America?”

“No idea, I’m dating Steve Rogers.” She replied immediately, a faint flush hitting her cheeks as she spoke, all the time fiddling with a delicate yet gorgeous antique looking emerald ring which sits on her right hand, a gift we suspect from the man in question. When asked to elaborate slightly, she bit her lip and simply smiled before explaining; “Steve isn’t just Captain America. There’s more to him than a shield. He’s the kindest, gentlest, most caring man I’ve ever met and he makes me unbelievably happy.” The blush spread from her cheeks to her ears “And that’s not down to the Serum or outfit, it’s just who he is. The fact he’s 6ft2, drop dead gorgeous with a smile I’d happily die for is a bonus.”

Steve felt himself grin as he read the words and glanced at the small photo they had framed the paragraph round. It was the shot of them together that had been taken at the Stark Industry’s New Year’s Gala as they danced. His eyes continued to the final part of the article, this one complete with a picture of Katie and Tony. Katie sat at her desk as Tony leaned over, looking at something on the computer screen.

When asked about the other man in her life, her brother Tony, she smiled again, another genuine smile, the love she has for her elder sibling evident on her face and in her voice.

“I owe everything I have to Tony. He brought me up from the age of seven, gave me absolute, unconditional love and opportunities I know I was extremely fortunate to have. People have a pre-conceived image of what he is like, and sometimes he can play into that, but to me he’s been nothing but loving and supportive, my father and brother rolled into one and I can’t thank him enough for everything he has done and given me. He backed my decision to open SIP from the off and believed in me and has always pushed me to be the best I can be.”

We couldn’t resist another personal question, so we asked her a little cheekily how Tony had reacted to news that she was dating one of his fellow Avengers, who had served alongside their Father Howard in WW2. Hesitating slightly, she flushed before smirking and answering, a grin on her face.

“How he found out wasn’t ideal, but once he realised we were serious, he was fine about it. I think deep down after my last car crash of a relationship, he’s just happy I’m with someone who puts me first.”

“Do they get on?” At that she laughed. “They have a love-hate relationship. In that they hate the fact they love one another. Tony has these ridiculous nicknames for Steve and he can be an absolute nightmare at times, but to be fair Steve’s quite sarcastic himself too but I know full well that they have each other’s six and, even though they would probably deny it, they are quite close and would miss one another if they weren’t around.”

Steve, grudgingly, had to admit she was right. Tony could be a pain in the ass at times, but he would miss the billionaire if he wasn’t there. Underneath all his bravado he knew that he thought the world of his sister and, despite their initial meeting whereby Steve frankly thought the guy was a dick, he’d fast learnt during the Chitauri Battle that underneath that persona he had a heart of gold and was more like his father than he would care to admit. A fact that Steve was even more convinced of having gotten to know him much better on a personal level over the last two years or so.

Whilst the siblings certainly share a lot of attributes, both good looking, tough, hard-working, Katie has a certain softness to her edges and we challenge anyone who spends time in her company not to warm to the youngest Stark. Stark Independent Publishing has, in our opinion, a very bright future ahead of it whilst it is spearheaded by such an astute and shrewd business woman and we wish her all the best.

“What do you think?” Katie watched as Steve read the article, leaning against the wall, nibbling at her thumb, nervous to see his reaction.

Steve jerked his head round and smiled at her. “I think it’s fantastic. The photos are stunning, the article is well written. Are you happy with it?” “Yeah.” she nodded as she walked over to his chair, standing behind it and slipping her arms round his shoulders from behind “They wouldn’t drop the whole So you’re dating Captain America angle though, so our PR department told me to answer a few personal questions to shut them up. Are you ok with it?” Steve smiled and turned side on in his seat, pulling her into his lap. “Seeing as I’m the kindest, gentlest, most caring man you’ve ever met how could I not be?” “I meant every word of that.” She smiled, rubbing her nose against his.

“I know baby.” He gave her a peck on the lips. “Now I need to go or I’m gonna be late.”

Sighing she stood up as he did the same, grabbing a final cinnamon bun from the plate.

“I’ll be back at mine” She informed him as she walked to the door with him, “I have a few calls to do this morning.” “I’ll come over when I’m done.” He smiled. “And maybe we can do something this afternoon?”

“Sounds perfect”

***** Chapter 14

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers smut #mcu #mcu fanfic #captain america #katie star #chris evans #chris evans characters

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aye-write · 3 years

Text

Summary: Research student Isla Reid has been fascinated with the legend of the Kildonian Chessmen - a trio of mythical Pokemon rumoured to have lived centuries ago on the remote region of Kildo - for as long as she can remember. So, when a museum exhibit on the Chessmen is set to open in Kildo’s Hydrogate City, coinciding with her independent research project, she packs herself and her trusty partner Furret onto the long ferry journey bound for this new region.

However, when she arrives in Kildo, thoughts of her research, new friends, and an entire Pokedex’s worth of new Pokemon, are quickly dashed. Kildo is a troubled place, beset by natural disasters and fierce rivalries among its people. Isla suddenly finds herself at the centre of a centuries-old plot to invoke the wrath of the Chessmen, and is set on a race against time to stop them, before it spells destruction for the entire region.

Other Links: Read it on Ao3!

Tags: OC Pokemon journey, OC region, Fakemon region, bisexual main character, found family, ace main character.

If you are not interested in these posts, especially as I know Pokemon journeyfic is fairly niche, please blacklist the tag #Checkmate. Most of the story will be put under a Readmore anyway!

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is just a quick author's note today! Thanks to everyone who has read and commented! I hope you enjoy another chonk of a chapter and that the starters' introduction went okay! There were a LOT of Pokedex entries this week, so I won't be including them all in the author's note this time, but you can head over to our tumblr @kildo-pokedex to see them in full! See you in two weeks, everyone!

*****

Chapter Four

Things moved fast that night. Too fast. Morning dawned, dappling the sky with tangerine oranges and cotton candy pinks, and Isla soon found herself packed and standing on the doorstep of the cottage she’d almost come to think of as home.

Rhona fussed over Skye’s layers and blankets for so long that Isla thought they’d never get away. Even Blair started to look nervous, casting pointed glances first at his watch and then at his mother. It would be a long walk, he said loudly, at least five hours of walking, and they needed to get on. Finally Rhona got the hint and passed over a mammoth bag of sandwiches, juice, and crisps – enough to sustain an army for about a week – and both parents said their goodbyes. Rhona’s eyes were wet with tears when she broke her hug with her daughter.

Isla moved forward, meaning just to offer thanks, but before she could open her mouth, Rhona swept her into a rib-crunching hug.

“Now you be careful out there, chick,” Rhona said, her breath tickling the whorls of Isla’s ear. “You always have a home here with us, alright? Don’t you dare be a stranger. I expect to see you again here before you go back to Johto, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Isla said, her voice thick.

Kenneth shook her hand next, his huge fingers easily engulfing hers. He had a firm grip, yet surprisingly soft hands, and when Isla drew back, she found he’d slipped her two crisp twenty pokedollar notes.

“Kenneth, thank you, but I can’t take—”

“You take care of yourself,” he said firmly.

Isla decided not to argue. Especially when it was the most the giant man had ever said to her in one go before.

Blair took his mother’s hug with an embarrassed grimace, nodding along to a laundry list of instructions she hurled his way. Make sure you take frequent breaks. Don’t let Skye go wandering on her own. Make sure you feed a Clatty if you see one, it’s good luck. Don’t dare go any further than Aberdrip. Eventually, Kenneth clamped his hand on Rhona’s shoulder, and she stopped.

“I suppose you best be going, eh?” she said, forcing a quivering smile. “Before it gets too late on. Have fun, darlings. Call me when you get there. Be safe.”

“Thanks for everything, Rhona,” Isla said, her voice catching. She had to turn around to shield her face from view.

Blair, who had been battling to fit Rhona’s supplies into their travelling bag, grunted with satisfaction as he finally got the zip up, leaving the bag bulging like an overripe balloon. He felt around at his waist, unhooked a Pokeball, and tossed it over the gate.

“Coastrot, come out!”

Isla let out a breath as the ball burst open and she came face to face with Blair’s Pokemon. Easily reaching Blair’s shoulders, it had a long, lithe body with a clipped coat the colour of the ocean under the morning sky. Even when it stayed still, its mane and tail rippled like plumes of gentle flowing water. It was a stunning Pokemon – right down to its dark, inquisitive eyes and glistening hooves – but there was something unusual about it that Isla couldn’t quite put her finger on. As she stared, Coastrot’s body seemed to blur, wavering in front of her like a picture on a TV with a dodgy signal.

Blair saw her staring. “Touch him,” he suggested.

Isla frowned, uncertain. Under Blair’s watchful eye, she reached out to touch this new Pokemon, only for her hand to slip straight through its body, as easily as if she had just put her hand through a hologram. She whipped her hand away like she’d just been shocked. The Pokemon’s body turned solid again the moment Blair touched it to string up one of the bags.

Isla consulted her Pokedex. “Coastrot, the Mirage Pokemon. Its translucent body refracts light, and it will often appear as though it is surrounded by rainbows. If it doesn’t trust someone, they will not be able to touch it. This is seen as an unlucky omen by some.”

“Amazing,” she said. “So it only lets people it trusts touch it?”

“That’s right,” Blair nodded. “Coastrot is actually the evolved form of one of the Kildo starters. He was my starter, so he’s been in the family a long time, but it still wasn’t easy for him to trust all of us. He lets me touch him, of course, and Skye, and sometimes Dad, but Mum is still a tricky case. Since he’s only just met you, it may take him a while to warm up.”

“That’s okay,” Isla held her hand out for the Pokemon to sniff. Its nose passed straight through her hand, a sensation rather like she’d plunged her hand into a bucket of ice-cold water. “I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”

Blair clapped on Coastrot’s haunches, signalling everything was secured. He called for Skye and helped boost her up, Isla holding her breath as she entertained a vision of Skye sinking right through the Pokemon’s ethereal back. Luckily, Coastrot remained solid and strong, allowing Skye to settle herself.

“Hold onto his mane, there,” Blair fussed. “No, not there. That’s too tight. Just there, look.”

Skye made several wide-eyed glances over the Pokémon’s massive haunches as Blair made the final checks. Isla offered her a smile.

“I take it that you won’t be going for Coastrot’s evolution for your first Pokemon, then?” she whispered.

Skye shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Definitely not.”

As she waited, a breath of wind lifted the hair from Isla’s forehead, already moist with sweat from the heat of the beating sun. She’d dressed light, in a loose, billowing top two sizes up from her normal, and a pair of comfortable jogging trousers, but she still worried about the journey. The bag slung on her shoulders didn’t feel heavy now, but walking would leaden it. She’d sprayed most of a bottle of antiperspirant on herself before setting out, but she still had doubts about its efficiency. She could only hope they would take it slow and she wouldn’t embarrass herself.

“That’s us,” Blair announced. “We’re ready to go.”

And with one final look back at the Whispering Pines Croft, they set off.

Having left the confines of the family croft, Blair switched into serious mode. He had done some travelling when he was younger, he explained as they walked, enough to know the basics, and he’d made the journey between Aberdrip and Port Glen enough times to pick out the best route to accommodate Coastrot. Their chosen path along Route 1 started out as a stretch of delightfully flat ground, buffeted by a strong, salt-smelling, easterly wind. After an hour, the flat paths became bumpy and wild, grass rising as high as their knees, the tips of trees bordering the horizon.

Blair told them stories as they walked, a welcome distraction for the pain needling through Isla’s legs. He brought them to a stop at the peak of a hill to point out Loch Culla in the distance, a shimmering body of water neatly fringed with trees. A place claimed to be the home of an entire family of shiny Kildonian Lapras.

Skye’s shriek of excitement at this news startled Coastrot, and Blair had to dart to her rescue in case she was catapulted off. She wasn’t fazed. She still insisted on making the detour so they could go hunting for one. Blair laughed. The loch was a protected area for that exact purpose, he explained, and catching Pokemon wasn’t allowed there.

“But we can manage a picnic nearby,” Blair added when Skye’s face fell. “Come on, let’s go.”

Back to walking it was. Isla forced herself back to her feet. To give Blair his dues, he factored in plenty of breaks, at every rest stop or every half an hour, whichever came first. He said he wanted Coastrot to get plenty of rest, as he wasn’t used to carrying weight over long distances. Isla wasn’t sure how true that was, but she was grateful all the same. If Blair and Skye saw her flushed face, sweat patches, and occasional gasps for breath, they were very kind and didn’t draw attention to it.

As promised, they unpacked a picnic at the bank of Loch Culla and shared out sandwiches, fruit, and flavoured waters. Sitting in the shade, listening to the water lapping against the bank, and sipping their drinks fresh from the cool bag, Isla felt totally at peace, despite the numbing aches sprouting in the back of her calves. Blair recalled Coastrot for a proper rest, but Isla released Soba and Wingull to stretch their legs and wings. To keep Wingull amused, but more to stop him stealing, she lobbed his food into the air, sending him swooping and diving over the loch and into the deep grass in pursuit.

Skye didn’t eat much, her eyes trained on the still loch water. When Blair nudged her back to reality, she folded her arms and said, “Blair, I’m looking for Lapras. Leave me alone.”

Isla saw him roll his eyes, but when he spoke to his sister, his tone was nothing but gentle and respectful. “You won’t see them, Skye. It’s massively rare to see a Kildonian Lapras out in the open. They live pretty much entirely underwater. Proper deep down.”

Isla looked up from her sandwich. “Do they? They don’t in Johto.”

“Yep. Kildonian ones are different types too. Ours are Ghost and Dragon.”

“Water and Ice for us.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty different, isn’t it? I think the mainland variant travel a lot, but you can pretty much trace all Kildonian Lapras to just one or two lochs here. They don’t move around a lot. Hence why the area is protected.”

“It doesn’t look protected?” Isla said, looking around. There wasn’t a stitch of modern technology to be seen. No buildings. No cameras. Heck, there didn’t even seem to be any other people around other than just them. “There’s nothing here.”

“Doesn’t need to be. See that sign?” Blair pointed out a sign nailed to a nearby tree. A bold, crimson X was splayed across a black and white image of a Pokeball. “That sign lets us know that there’s Anti-Pokeball Interference here. API for short.” When he saw Isla’s blank face, he frowned. “I don’t know exactly how it works, but basically, Dad said that it transmits some sort of signal that humans and Pokemon can’t hear, but it scrambles the capture mechanism on all Pokeballs. Makes them nothing more than fancy paperweights.”

“We certainly don’t have that in Johto.”

“It’s pretty new. Just come into fashion over the last year. Lot of folks don’t like it, though. I think they had protests out in Tideburgh. They say it violates our rights to catch Pokemon and that it’s going to lead to overpopulation. If you ask me, it’s a load of Tauros shi— uh, nonsense,” he corrected himself when Skye turned her head.

They lapsed into silence, Isla pretending to be fascinated with her sandwich crusts. They’d gone dry and hard in the sun, and she nibbled at them ineffectively. Wingull, amazingly, had eaten its fill and had nestled with his head (mostly) under one stubby wing. Soba, who had been luxuriating in the sun, had fallen asleep curled around a bottle of lemonade. Blair lay back in the grass, his eyes shut, making occasional contented noises. Skye was scribbling something in a notebook patterned with Slugma.

“We’ll head off soon,” Blair yawned. “I just want to rest my eyes for a few minutes.”

The soft noise of snoring drifted over the wind moments later. Isla had to resist the urge to join him. Sitting down had been fatal. Now her eyes felt as heavy as her legs and the thought of getting up again made tiredness sink into the very pit of her. She could shut her eyes for a few minutes, she reasoned. Just a few minutes. Just a few—

“Isla!” a voice cut through her thoughts. “Isla! Isla, look!”

Isla had to force open her eyes, gummed together like chewy toffee. Skye was on her feet, pointing at the nearby undergrowth.

“What’s goin—”

“Shush!” Skye hissed. “Just look!”

In amongst the green, leafy fronds was a flash of something dull and brown. It emerged from the grass like a Furret in miniature. It had a long, snake-like body, the colour of dark chocolate, and a cream underbelly. Its sharp, inquisitive nose twitched, and its tail swished like an over-eager feather duster.

“What is that?” Isla gasped, pulling her Pokedex out.

“It’s a Mudstel!” Skye said, just as Isla’s Pokedex chirped “Mudstel, the Mud Ferret Pokemon. Curious, but shy, Mudstel rely on their stealth and environment when hunting. They blend in well among trees and bushes, but if spotted, will quickly burrow underground to escape.”

“Gosh, it must be hungry if it’s come right out in the open!” Skye breathed out. “Can we try feeding it?”

“Yeah, if you like. Try it with the crusts there.”

Skye offered the Mudstel some of the uneaten crusts. The Pokemon held back, its nose twitching, eyes unblinking. Skye stretched her hand out further.

“Wait, Skye. Stay as still as you can,” Isla advised, not even daring to breathe too loudly in case she startled it. Skye’s wavering arm came to a stop. “That’s it. Let it come to you.”

After a few moments, the Mudstel stretched out its long, ribbon-like body. Skye looked like she was about to burst from excitement, but somehow, managed to stay still. Isla caught a glimpse of sharp white teeth as Mudstel opened its mouth and snatched the crusts from Skye’s hand. It didn’t pause to eat them, just turned on its heels, and dove back into the undergrowth.

They waited, but Mudstel didn’t come back out.

Skye looked crestfallen as the grass went still. “Bread crusts aren’t all that nutritious,” she said mournfully. “I wish it had stayed and I could have given it some Pokemon food. I think we even have some Pokemon Rock. That would have been even better for it.”

Isla made a sympathetic noise. “Maybe we can leave some pellets for it when we pack up and leave?”

“Maybe. But I wish I could have caught it. I don’t want it to end up starving. Mudstel wouldn’t come out and take food from humans if it could help it.”

“Some Pokemon are just opportunistic, Skye. He probably has plenty of chances to get food and then saw us and thought “Oh yes, a free lunch!” Pokemon are clever. They can take care of themselves.”

“I suppose.”

Isla slung an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Try not to worry,” she said. “We’ll be in Aberdrip soon and you’ll have your very own Pokemon before you know it.”

“I know,” Skye said. “I just… wish I could make friends with all of them. I don’t want any of them to suffer.”

“Then I think that means you’ll be a good trainer.”

Skye smiled. Isla’s heart skipped a little. Could this really be the first time that she had ever seen the younger girl smile?

A sudden kerfuffle sent them both looking over Blair, who snorted and pushed himself upright, making a strange gulping noise. “I wasn’t asleep! I wasn’t… sleeping?” He looked blearily across at Skye and Isla. “Was I sleeping?”

They didn’t answer. Instead, the noise of their laughter echoed across the loch like water tinkling from a waterfall.

They had stopped for another break on Route 3, a densely wooded path littered with fallen leaves and fresh with the smell of moss, when Blair got a text through on his phone.

Immediately, he was dialling a number, face twisted, and one hand covering his ear to block out the shrill shriek of the local Caperchick. A Caperchick, as Isla had found out was another of Kildo’s resident bird Pokemon. Pretty much helpless as babies, they were only able to eat, sleep, and call for help from others in their family group. Isla had hoped to see one, but Blair dissuaded her, explaining their later evolutions were territorial and aggressive. Most wouldn’t take kindly to humans on their turf.

It still didn’t stop her, or Skye, from hoping. Skye got up to wander four times while Blair stepped away to speak on the phone, poking at the bases of trees and among tall grasses. Or maybe she was just doing it to fill the time. Whatever conversation Blair was having, it was taking a lot of it.

When Blair did eventually return, his face was pale. “That was Mum on the phone.”

Isla’s instant thought was Nana Morag. “Is everything okay?”

“Kind of. She’s just back from the hospital. Nana Morag is doing better, they think she’ll be alright to come home soon as long as she gets plenty of bed rest.”

“Did they find out what it was that made her ill?”

“They’re still waiting on some test results,” Blair said, worry creasing his eyebrows into one long caterpillar. “She said she’ll phone me as soon as they hear. Now, the other thing. Mum said she had a voicemail waiting for her when she got out of the hospital. It was one of Professor Spruce’s aides.”

Skye stopped what she was doing, pricking her head up.

“There was some problem with the breeders they use to supply the new trainers and they don’t have enough to supply everyone who wanted one.”

Skye looked ready to burst into tears. Blair saw this and quickly assured, “Don’t panic, Skye. They’ve just moved it to a booking system instead to try and get as many folks sorted as possible today. Mum gave me the number and I called the aide. You’re still getting your Pokemon – as long as we get there in time.”

Skye visibly relaxed but Isla felt like something had severed her at the chest. “When’s Skye’s slot?”

“2pm. It was the only one I could get. All the others were filled.

Isla looked at the time on her phone. It was already ten to one.

“Yeah,” Blair said, as Isla caught his eye. “We need to hurry.”

Isla hoped that adrenaline would see them through. That they could power on the remaining couple of miles without feeling the pain or the tiredness, subsisting only on the rush of purpose to get there. But it was hell. Pure hell. As they half walked, half jogged along unsteady ground, the air dense and muggy, the heat of the sun dripped down their backs.

I can’t let Skye down, Isla told herself as she dragged her aching limbs over the nobbled hump of yet another hillock. I’ll never forgive myself if I let her down.

Once, when the shooting pain of a stitch left her doubled over, she told Blair and Skye to go on without her. But she didn’t even get to finish her sentence before Blair cut in with “Absolutely not. We’re going together,” and that was the end of it.

As it ticked closer and closer, the clouds receded, and the sun intensified. The air remained stubbornly heavy and humid. Finally, they were over another hill and Aberdrip loomed in the distance, a monochrome city with silver buildings reaching up like metallic petals. They didn’t stop to take in much else. Feet pounding the concrete, each step sending pinpricks of pain up Isla’s legs, Blair hailed a taxi. In one confusing bundle of recalled Pokemon, sorting of bags, and too many legs in one small space, they clambered in. Within minutes, they were speeding along the blurred roads, the streets like smears of running ink.

Professor Spruce’s lab sat right at the western outskirts of Aberdrip in a plot of land closed off by wrought iron gates. The taxi driver dropped them off at the bottom, and after buzzing through to the office, they were on their way up the vicious uphill path to Professor Spruce’s lab.

Stumbling through the front door, trembling with exertion, Isla checked her phone. Three minutes to two. They’d made it.

A concerned looking aide lead them through a maze of breezeblocked hallways. Skye stuck so close to Blair that they practically became one person. The aide opened a door at the end of a particularly long corridor, and they emerged into a room groaning with workbenches and strange equipment that wouldn’t have looked amiss in an old sci-fi film. The room was wonderfully chilled, the overhead fans pumping in swathes of cool air.

Blair and Skye gave the aide their names, Blair signed a proffered sheet, and then they were shepherded through into an adjoining room. As they stepped through, Isla felt the eyes of a dozen people land on her.

“Ah, Skye McLeod, is it?” came a voice from ahead of them. “Excellent. I was starting to worry you weren’t coming.”

Skye tensed next to Isla as the woman who had spoken – Isla assumed this was Professor Spruce – beckoned them forward. She was small, rounded, with greying hair slung into a messy bun. Her eyes were sharp, glinting like the sheen of ice over a frozen puddle. Easily a foot shorter than everyone else in the room, she still commanded everyone’s attention.

With a wave of her hand, Professor Spruce separated Skye and the two other young trainers – one girl and one boy – from their respective guardians. Isla collapsed gratefully into a nearby chair. Blair was rigid in his own seat as Professor Spruce took the new trainers through the standard “First Pokemon” spiel. It was a comforting lecture, so much so that mixed with the relief they had made it in time, Isla soon felt her eyelids drooping.

Then, voices surged.

“I want to go first!”

“No, I’m going first!”

“Enough!” Professor Spruce barked, her voice tight. “Being a Pokemon trainer isn’t about who goes first. It’s not even about getting exactly what you want. If you go into this life expecting to get what you want all the time, you are setting yourself up for failure Pokemon are as unique and individual as each one of you. A “weak” Pokemon can become strong from the right training and support. On your journey as trainers, I encourage you to open your hearts and minds. Embrace all that this region has to offer you. Take a chance on people – and Pokemon – you might not expect to. They might just surprise you. Now, young lady…” Professor Spruce’s eyes fixed on Skye, who had been sitting quietly the whole way through. “Why don’t you come up and pick your partner?”

Frozen under the expectant gaze, Skye didn’t move. The other two new trainers muttered as the silence grew. The faces of the parents clouded. Still Skye didn’t move. Or perhaps she couldn’t.

Isla pushed herself out of her chair. Despite the angry murmurings from the other guardians, she threaded herself in next to her. “Skye, do you want to go up first?” she asked.

Skye nodded.

“Would you like me to go up with you? Or maybe Blair?”

She shook her head, but no words came out.

“Just take your time. I know it’s a bit scary, but you can do it.”

With the encouragement, Skye faced the three Pokeballs next to Professor Spruce. Each one was furnished with a plaque listing information about the Pokemon inside. Isla read them over, trying to absorb the information quickly, in case she was asked to sit back down. One Grass starter, one Fire, one Water. Exactly the same as Johto.

Coozy, Lv 5

Gender: Male

The Little Cow Pokemon

Good natured and docile, this Coozy is an excellent choice for those who enjoy a slow and steady pace in life. Be careful not to let him get lazy and complacent!

Bleater, Lv 5

Gender: Male

The Nightlight Pokemon

Aloof yet curious, this Bleater will be a loyal companion to any trainer willing to take the time to get to know him. Be warned, Bleater are prone to dependency on their trainers later in life.

Coltide, Lv5

Gender: Male

The Water Horse Pokemon

Spirited and independent, this Coltide can be a handful without firm guidance in the beginning. However, you will rarely find a more dedicated Pokemon out there!

Curiosity burned at the back of Isla’s head, but now wouldn’t be the right time to interrupt everything by checking. For now, she turned back to the chairs and waited as Skye made her final decision.

“This one.” Skye eventually said. “I would like this one, please.”

“Excellent choice,” Professor Spruce said kindly. “Why don’t you take your, uh… guardians towards the back and fill out the paperwork? The aide will have your license waiting for you.”

“You go,” Isla motioned to Blair. “I’ll wait here.”

While Skye was away dealing with her paperwork, Isla watched the two remaining trainers making their picks. Compared to Skye, there was no hesitation. The boy beelined immediately for Coltide, but the other girl seemed perfectly happy to be left with Coozy. Which, of course, meant that Skye had chosen Bleater.

One by one, the families left for the other room, and Isla had the chance to look closer at the three Kildo starters. She painstakingly punched the names – or her best memory of them – into the Pokedex and clicked Image Search.

Coozy, she decided, would have been her choice. It was almost painfully cute; small, and quadrupedal, covered in a thick coat of moss green fur, a pale pink nose, and dark inquisitive eyes. Her arms ached to hug it.

Now, Bleater was cute too, she thought. It reminded her of a favourite Johto Pokemon – a Mareep – just smaller. Its wool was coarse and tightly packed against the body, in a vivid orange, the colour of flame. Its short, stubby legs and the small nubs of horns were a much darker orange, a striking contrast to the rest of its body.

The final one, Isla could figure out on her own. An aqua blue body, a mane and tale reminiscent of flowing water, black hooves polished like obsidian, and dark, beguiling eyes. Coltide, the previous evolution of Blair’s Coastrot.

“You seem very interested in the starters, young lady,” Professor Spruce’s voice cut through Isla’s thoughts, making her jump. “Not local?”

“How could you tell?” Isla laughed nervously.

“I’ve been around the block too many times,” Professor Spruce said. “Kanto?”

“No, Johto. My accent is a bit softer though, so I get why people mix them up.”

“Johto, eh? That’s a long trip. What brings you here?”

“Visiting family. And some research into the Kildonian Chessmen.”

Professor Spruce’s eyes widened. “How interesting.”

A perfect opportunity had fallen right into her lap. She would be stupid not to take advantage of it now. “Professor, do you know anything about them?” she asked. “Or the Vitalities? Anything you could tell me?”

“Like what?”

“Like where they could be found?”

Professor Spruce’s eyebrow arched. “Well, no-one really knows where the Chessmen are now. Recent reports claim they settled in remote places – like islands far away from the mainland or underground. But that’s all just theories. There hasn’t been a confirmed sighting in over a century. But the Vitalities, on the other hand…”

Isla leant forward, closing the space between them.

Professor Spruce seemed to think better of what she was about to say and let out a sigh. “You have to understand something first. The Vitalities are a polarising bunch. Much of my generation, us old folks, even some of the more… naïve younger people believe the Vitalities are responsible for the natural disasters around Kildo.”

This wasn’t news to Isla, but still she pressed “Why?”

“The Vitalities brought many gifts to humans. Some were used wisely. Others weren’t. One of the most enduring theories is that the Chessmen banished and trapped the Vitalities to four remote corners of Kildo to prevent them intervening in humans’ natural progress. There’s an argument to be made that the natural disasters are the Vitalities fighting back, I suppose rebelling against their banishment.”

“So, no-one knows where they are? Or the Chessmen?”

Professor Spruce shook her head. “You may have noticed that Kildo is a region on a precipice. Pokemon journeys, gym circuits, the battling leagues, these are all very new to us. And they’ve become very popular very quickly. Up until about twenty years ago, most people in Kildo only used Pokemon to help them work the land, to till crops, things like that. It was like the whole region carried this collective memory, a shared fear of what happened when technology became too great a force.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“Yes. But that fear has diluted. It’s been lost among much of the new generation. Things have changed. We’ve made amazing technological advances since then, eclipsed even some of the other regions that have been doing this for much longer. I’m sure you’ve heard about our API technology and Ability Suppressors and Experience Boosters, all that sort of thing.” Isla hadn’t, but she didn’t want to stop her and ask. Lots of people think it’s amazing. Lots more people are scared. Scared that if the Chessmen were to wake again, and were to see the way we have advanced, they would do exactly what they did the last time they awoke.”

The phrase festering in Isla’s mouth felt ridiculous. Laughable. But something compelled her to say it anyway.

“That they would destroy the whole region?”

Professor Spruce’s piercing grey eyes met Isla’s.

“Exactly.”

#checkmate #checkmate fanfiction #pokemon fanfiction #fakemon #fakemon fanfiction #fakemon region

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writingkeepsmewhole · 3 years

Text

Tattoos

This is part 4 of Angel Eyes sorry for not posted in ages. But I found this on a flash drive from like 2017 so I edited and thought I should post it. I hope you like it.

Fic Summary: This is backstory to kind help people understand Dean and Callie’s relationship. Sam, Dean and Callie go get tattoos :P

Dean Winchester x OC Claudia

Warnings: Language maybe?

Taglist: Let me know if you want to be tagged. @magssteenkamp @deanwanddamons @lemondropirwin @vicmc624 @lilulo-12 @eternalevie @all-will-be-well-love @akshi8278

Part 1 Part 3

Walking into the bathroom I bent over untying my boots. Kicking them off I stood up and met my green eyes in the mirror. Reaching up to take my hair down I stopped when there was no longer a black string around my wrist. I quickly opened the bathroom door shocking Sam he was behind it and I almost hit him.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked dropping his bags by the door and walking up to me. I was taken back when he grabbed my arms softly as if I was going to pass out.

"I lost my antipossion charm." I say biting my lip.

"You what?" Dean and Sam asked, clearly mad.

"I didn't mean to. It was on my wrist and I guess it must have broke."

"Great, what are we going to do now? I doubt Booby just has another one laying around." Dean asked, throwing up his arm and walking away from me.

"Even if he did, who says she wont lose it again." Sam says sitting on the bed.

"I'm right here, ya know. Maybe it's in the hotel room."

"We just got here. I doubt you lost it in the past five minutes." Sam said.

"Well it's not like I can just tattoo the thing to me." I said throwing up my arms and moving to the door shutting it, probably a little too rough., but I hate being treated like I'm five.

"Wait a minute." Dean says, making me turn to face him.

"Why not get it tattooed. It would get rid of having to keep up with it. And plus its one sure way, no demon would ever get into us ever again."

"That's not a bad idea." I say agreeing. "I always wanted to get a tattoo anyways." I say shrugging.

"And what if I don't." Sam says standing up.

"Oh come on Sammy it's common sense, to get one." Dean says lifting his hands.

"Yeah, it's the smart thing to do." I say smiling, getting butterflies about the thought of getting tattooed.

"Oh and what are we meant to tell the person that does it?" Sam asks.

"The truth. It looks like some tribal tattoo that people walk around with all the time. The worse case they think we are weirdos but there still going to do it." I say sitting down beside Dean on the bed.

"Callie is right, money is money. They don't care as long as they get paid."

"What if they only take cash?"

Sighing I throw my head back hitting Dean's shoulder.

"Then we go to the bar, play a little pool and go back. With cash. Why are you so against getting a tattoo?" I ask

"Yeah, Sammy it can be on your ass for all I care." Dean says laying back on the bed's headboard making me fall, sence I was still leaning on him.

Glaring up at him I sat back up, only getting a small laugh out of him.

"How do we even know it will work?"

Sighing again I laid back on Dean's legs reaching back to grab my phone off the nightstand. Flipping it open I pressed 3 it calling Bobby.

"Callie, it's 1AM what the hell do you want?" Bobby answered sound sleepy and mad.

"Sorry Bobby. I didn't realize it was so late but I have a important question."

"About what?" He said trying to be helpful but not hiding his anger.

"The charms you gave us. If we tattoo the symbol to ourselves will that work the same as wearing them?"

"What kind of idjit are you? Of course it will work. Next time you decide to bother me while I'm sleeping make sure it's a damn good question."

"Sorry Bobby, just wanted to make sure."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I'll let you go back to sleep. Good night Bobby. Sweet Dreams."

"Yeah, I'll bet." He says hanging up.

"He is mean when he is sleepy." I say looking up at Dean as I close my phone.

"What did he say?" Sam asked.

"Looks like your getting inked up, buttercup." I say smiling at him.

Sighing, he clenched his jaw.

"I'll be in the car. Hurry up." He says walking out to the car grabbing his jacket as he went.

"I think he needs a nap. He is a little grumpy." I say looking back up at Dean.

"I think you're right. Better not keep him waiting." He says smiling, clearly enjoying this as much as me.

Sitting up I walk to the bathroom grabbing my shoes and sitting on the tub to put them back on.

"Where do you think I should get it?" Dean asked leaning against the door frame to the bathroom.

Looking up at the ceiling I bit my lip, thinking of where a tattoo would look good on Dean. The first thing was anywhere. Shaking away that thought. I thought of where I like tattoos on guys.

"Hmm... Shoulder, shoulder blade, or chest." I say tying my boot and pulling on the other one.

"What about you. Where are you going to get it?"

"I don't know. I don't want it super viable. Like I don't want to have to worry about people being like what's that?"

"I think you should get it on your ribs." Dean says as I finish tying the other boot.

"Why the ribs. That's the worse place to get a tattoo." I say standing up and walking out of the bathroom, feeling Dean follow me.

"Well one because it's hot and two I know you can take the pain." He says making blood rush to my cheeks.

"Is that so?" I ask turning to face him, a smirk finding my lips.

I almost smack myself for how flirty that sounds but it's hard not to when you have Dean in front of you.

"Yeah. You're kinda a badass." He says smirking and winking at me.

I laugh softly, him joining me. Rolling my eyes I shake my head a little.

"Maybe." I say walking to the door, stepping out into a soft sprinkle.

"Rain!" I say smiling up at the sky loving the cool drops on my heated cheeks.

"What was about not being five?" Dean asked behind me and pinched my side, making me jerk a little.

"Shut up." I say sticking my tongue out at him, earning a laugh.

I jump when Baby's horn goes off. Looking at Dean's price postion I see Sam sitting in the front seat looking like a parent who just cought his child having sex.

"Again, I repeat, grumpy." I say looking back at Dean and stepping off the curb to get into the car.

"Why not bug him a little more." Dean says opening the driver door for me.

Taking the hint I get in and move to the middle, Sam clenching his jaw making me laugh.

"Oh don't be so grumpy. It's only a little seat sharing." I say poking his hard jaw.

"Just can we get this over with?"

"Damn Sam, Bobby is not the only one that’s mean when he is tired." Dean says starting the car backing out.

"I just want to get this done so I can take a shower and get a few hours in before I have to get up in the morning."

"Hey, you're the one who wants to run before dawn." I say shrugging.

One look from Sam is enough to make me shut up and hold up my hands as a surender. I lean into Dean to get away from Sam before he bursts a blood vessel. Feeling bad for now getting up front, for wanting to bug him more.

Maybe feeling the same or seeing Sam's face. Dean lays his arm over my shoulders and pulls me closer to him, giving Sam as much space as he can get with all of us up front. Leaning into Dean's side I close my eyes and just listen to the rain picking up and hitting the Impala's roof. Moving his arm down, I shift slightly laying my head on Dean's shoulder, feeling completely relaxed. No not relaxed. At home.

When Dean's neck starts vibrating with him humming I let myself enjoy it till the point of my eyes don't want to stay open anymore.

I softly smack Dean's chest, making him stop.

"What was that for?" He asks sounding shocked.

"You're making me fall asleep." I say a yawn leaving my mouth, making a laugh leave Dean's.

"Dean, maybe we should go back to the motel. Let Callie sleep."

"Oh your not getting out of this that easy, buttercup." I say sitting up and looking at him, making me slightly dizzy but I ignore it, it fading quickly.

"Yeah, because we are here." Dean says pulling into the parking lot of a tattoo and piercing shop.

Getting out of the car, I quickly follow Dean to escape the picking up rain.

"Welcome. What can I do for you?" Asks the tattooed bearded main at the front desk.

"Hi, we're looking to get a tattoo. We heard this was the place to come." Dean says, making the man laugh.

"Well that'll be right. I'm Chet, nice to meet you." Chet says holding out his hand to Dean.

"Dean." He says taking it.

"And you Miss?" He asks looking down at me.

"Callie." I say waving and smiling.

"And the tall fella?" He asks looking over me at Sam.

"Oh that sour thing is my little brother Sammy. Sammy come say hi." Dean says waving him over.

"It's Sam." He says holding his hand out to Chet.

"Well, nice to meet you folks. So like I said before, what can I do for you?"

"We all three want this." Sam says handing Chet a piece of paper with the simbel roughly graw on it.

"You draw this yourself?" Chet asks, taking the picture and looking down at it stroking his beard.

"Yeah, I did. Look, not to be rude, but can we hurry this up I would really like to get some sleep." Sam says, looking tired.

"Well just slow down there a minute." Chet says not even the least bit surprised with Sam's mood.

"How big are you three talking? Because if you want something huge It's going to be more than one trip. Plus you have how are you going to pay and where you want it at."

"No bigger than three inches." I say getting an agreement from both the boys.

"Altight. That will be 75 each. That's without color."

"You take credit?" Dean asks.

"Yes, sir we do."

"Well, let's do this." Dean says, pulling out his wallet and handing him his card.

I'm a little surprised when he doesn't look at it or ask for ID.

"Alright, well let me go draw this up and you three can talk about where you want it and who goes first." Chet says taking the picture Sam drew and walking in the back.

"Sam you can go first." I say sitting on one of the black leather couches, Dean sitting beside me.

"Why do I go first?" Sam asks sitting in a plastic chair across from us.

"Because you won't have to wait you can go out and sleep in the car while we get ours done." I say like it's obvious.

"Okay sure, whatever."

"Man he really is tired." Dean says laying his arm on the back of the couch.

"Yeah, well it will be over soon and we will never have to worry about it again." I say smiling up at Dean, because I would probably just get a glare from Sam.

On the note I could feel his death glaze burn a hole in my head.

"So did you decide where you are going to get yours?" I ask, whoever wants to answer.

"I'm working on it." Dean says winking at me, making me roll my eyes.

"What about you Clauda?" Sam asks

"Still thinking." I say biting my trying to think of where would be the best place.

All three of us fall into a comfortable silence waiting on Chet. He returns around thirty minutes later.

"Alright I got everything all set up. So who is going first."

Both me and Dean pont to Sam.

"Alright, son, follow me back." Chet says holding the beads hanging over the door out of Sam's way.

"Be nice!" I say getting a Yeah, Yeah and a wave from him.

Chet laughs and walks thru the door with Sam in front of him.

"So, you really don't know where you are getting yours?" Dean asks looking down at me.

"No, everywhere I think don't seem right." I say biting my lip.

"I have an idea." Dean says.

"Oh gosh." I say covering my face, slightly worried.

"Well at least hear me out first."

"Okay fine, fine. What is your idea?" I ask, looking up at Dean to meet bright green eyes.

"You pick for me and I pick for you." He says shrugging.

"That way if we can get an outsider's thoughts on it."

Smiling, I nod my head.

"You know I really like that." I say, saying exactly how I felt.

"See and you didn't trust me."

"Oh, I trust you. I trust you get me into trouble by putting it on my forehead."

Laughing Dean ran his hand down his face.

"I was thinking more your cheek but if that's what you want to go with, its your face darlin'.'' He says pulling me closer to him and tickling me softly.

Giggling I push his hands away, just as Chet and Sam walk out.

"Well that was fast." Dean says, sounding halfway disappointed.

"Yeah, I'll be out in the car." Sam says doing just that.

"Alright who's next."

"Me!" I say standing up and walking over to Chet.

"You gonna bring your boyfriend with you?" Chet asks nodding at Dean.

Blushing at the boyfriend comment, I ignore it and turn to face Dean feeling dumb since he is picking the spot for the tattoo.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" I say running to him and grabbing his forearm just to pull him up from his seat.

I hear Chet laugh behind us making me wonder exactly what life he thinks we have.

Following him back into the other room, Dean laces his fingers with mine making me smile up at him. He quickly returns it making my stomach do flips.

"Room three." Chet gestures to the last door.

Dean quickly takes the lead pulling me behind him. When we step into the room I can help the rush I get when I see the chair with the gun beside it.

"You okay?" Dean asks looking down at me.

"Yeah, why?" I ask, confused as why he would ask that.

LIfting our joined hands he lets go to show me how my hand is shaking.

"Oh. They're the good kind. Here feel my heart." I say taking his hand and placing it to my chest before I can think.

Realizing what I did I feel myself blush a little but I keep his hand there. He is my "boyfriend" after all.

Smiling Dean moves his hand up to my neck, pulling me to him to kiss my forehead.

"One hell of an adrenaline rush huh?" Dean asks moving so Chet can get to his spot beside the chair.

"So do we know where we want it?" Chst asks when he sets down.

"He does." I say pointing to Dean and moving back a little.

"Oh, alright what'll it be son?" He asks looking up at Dean.

"She wants it on her rib. Here." Dean says placing his hand on my right side just under my bra strap.

"And you're okay with that?" Chet asks looking at me, making eye contact. I guess to see if I’m lying.

"Yes, it's perfect." I say telling the truth.

Feeling all at once how I could not picture it anywhere else.

"Alright well take a seat, I'll fix the chair once you're on it. Dean there is a stool in the hall if you want to grab it so you have somewhere to sit."

"Alright." He says walking out of the room quickly returning since the stool was just outside the door.

"Is this your first tattoo?" Chet asked, fixing the chair so he could reach my rib easily.

"Yep." I say popping the P getting comfortable on my left side.

"Well let me tell you it's going to hurt a lot."

"She can take it." Dean says sitting on the stool my face becoming even with his belly.

"Well just let me know if you need to take a break. Don't worry though I got 20 years under my belt. Or should I say gun. You’re in good hands."

"Thanks Chet." I say smiling at him and laying my head on my left arm, my other one laying in front of me.

"Lift your shirt for me please." Chet says.

“I got it." Dean says before I can even move. Pulling my shirt up I feel as if it's in slow motion but maybe that's just because I'm suddenly very aware of how many scars I have on my stomach and hips.

I realize that it's not Dean seeing them, it's Chet. I can hear the questions now. But they never come. Instead I feel something like paper being stuck to my sink.

"So you from around here?" Chet asked, one of us.

"No. Road trip. She got it in her head that we all should get tattoos."

"Hey! It's for a good reason." I say sticking my tongue out at Dean even though he is not eye level with me. Well he is never eye level with me.

"About that if you don’t mind me asking. Your brother said something about it being in the family. He didn't make much since. He was not in a chatty mood.

"Yeah, it's been in his family for years. All the way back to the tribes. The people believed that it could keep you from getting posed." I say smiling a “what the hell smile”.

"Oh thats a new one."

"Yeah, but like I said she got it in her head. So it had to be done. But at the end of the day it's a badass tattoo."

"That it is." Chet said starting up the gun making a buzz fill the room.

"Ready?" He asked from behind me.

"Ready." I say as Dean seems to shrink down to my level. Him pulling the lever on the bottom of the stool. He still has to bend down a little to be eye to eye with me but that's better than nothing.

When the needle of the gun first touched my skin it felt like I was being punched so hard it made my ribs brake. Groning I clenched my jaw and grabbed onto the nearest thing which happened to be Dean's forearm.

"Are you okay?" Chet asked, pulling the gun from me.

"Yes" I say closing my eyes and groaning again.

"Man that hurts worse than getting sticked up." I say taking a deep breath thru my nose and blowing it out of my mouth.

"Should I keep going?"

"Yeah, keep going." I say moving my hand to Dean's.

Feeling the pain again I bit my lip so I didn't make a noise. It still hurts but this time I knew what to expect. It felt like someone was digging a white hot nail down my side.

After a minute it slowly turned into a dull pain as my skin in that spot went numb.

"Dean is it?"

"Yeah." Dean says pushing my raven hair off my face.

"You got a keeper. Never have I ever seen a first timer get a tattoo on their ribs and be this quiet or still."

"Yeah, she is good at that."

Laughing I moved my right arm over my head and looked down as best as I could watching Chet wipe away ink from my side.

Smiling at the butterflies again I laid my arm back down. Dean laying his hand on the back of mine lacing his fingers through mine.

"That scar on her hip. I walked in on her sewing it up herself." Dean said, sounding almost like he was bragging.

"Yeah and you should have heard the ear full I go for it." I say, smiling softly, my eyes closed.

It seemed to help with the pain, the less I talked. So that's what I didn't do. I lay there listening to Dean and Chet talk about me and what happened so I had to get sewn up. Dean came up with the lie that I was a nurse in afghanistan. That's where we met, that's where the scar he was talking about came from. If only it was that noble. When really it came from breaking up a bar fight between Dean and some dude hitting on me very, very hard. To the point I almost stabbed him. Dean did walk in on me sowing up and I did get an ear full. But it was not just him telling me how I should not have tried to break up the fight. Or sow myself up.

It had a mix of the crystal green his eyes get when he is hurting. It didn't take two glances to see that he was mad at himself more than me. He thought it was his fault.

Always dose.

"Callie you alright?" Dean asks, making me open my eyes and look up at him, a yawn leaving my mouth.

"Well I guess that answers my question." Chet said laughing.

"What?"

"I thought you passed out of something. I told him you were fine but he wanted to be sure."

"No, yeah, I'm okay. Just listening to you talk. Your voice is relaxing." I say smiling up at him, making him scratch the back of his head telling me I embarrassed him which didn't happen often.

"Well you're halfway done. So finish your nap." Dean says, trying to laugh it off.

"Thanks." I say smiling and closing my eyes.

Lucky me Chet started another conversation with Dean about what all he has hunted.

He went on about telling him something about a bear which I think was one of the werewolves we have killed or maybe a windigo.

"Alright, you are done." Chet said, turning off everything.

"Can I see?" I ask sitting up a little. An ache in my side.

"Let me clean you up first."

Nodding I layed back on the chair and poked Dean's chest making him look down at me.

"How's it look?"

"You'll like it." He says smirking down at me.

"I better." I say sticking my tongue out at him.

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Help Me Rich

@deepestfirefun here you go, pt 1. :D

“Now, I wanted to thank you all for your messages-,” over the shoulder of the bulky Brit a green nail tipped hand came into view from the teetering petite toe top woman on one leg making the second Brit returning from an early morning shopping trip grin. Bag in hand Tom Hiddleston eyed the woman subtly gathering up her mail and locking the box silently behind Henry Cavill’s unknowing back to step away with a rub on the dog’s head at his side. Into the lift he went with the woman also holding an armful of bags and a small goat plushie handmade to look like Loki beside a polar bear Superman, badger Ronan with bunny Deadpool, Venom and Spiderman set she tried to nudge under the flannel sticking out of the bag they were balanced on.

The lingering gaze over the woman he couldn’t quite place had Tom saying, “I haven’t seen you around.” A ring from his pocket had his eyes lowering to his phone he wrangled out keeping the bags in his arms.

The doors opened and in his furrowed gaze at the screen he heard her tease back, “I didn’t realize you were blind.” Yet looking up the woman was gone leaving him puzzled at her answer.

In a huff he answered his call on speaker to allow him to enter his apartment listening to the bustle of his own manager while he put everything away loading up his latest binge show. A bit late to the game he had leapt on the Berlin Station train and had just came to the premier episode of the second season. Though with his meal in hand he settled into his seat at his table with schedule ironed out to finally relax before his next episode only to have his jaw drop seeing the same woman from the lift coming up on screen. And not only just there but popping up in his mind from scenes in the Night Manager, High Rise and Crimson Peak.

In flashes the, then blonde and brass now raven haired woman with curls galore in a messy bun flashing telling purple eyes he could remember from countless roles in the past few years always leaving him wondering when she was able to sleep. Clearly crossing his path more than a few times a year now for however long having lived on the same floor as him.

Travel didn’t seem to lull for her and curiously between postings of another tale of a shared now favored fanfic page Henry had showed him upon seeing he had moved in with stories on Loki and Superman as neighbors befriending a quirky oc he skimmed back through his posted videos catching more and more glimpses of his petite shadow. Into Henry’s videos the same shadow popped up more and more leading to his delving into the filmography of his friend now alerted to the woman who he had filmed with as well somehow having slipped out of his attention for so long.

“Found another one.” Tom fired off to Henry in a text after a week of hearing how his return to his social pages had drawn attentions to a woman familiar in both his videos and Henry’s.

It seemed no matter what they did since both moving into this building they kept acting as magnets for the same woman unintentionally catching her in her daily path. Off guard and trying to slip out of the shot to avoid bothering the busy self promoting actors she would slip out once her task was done. Though when they were filming her stealth seemed to pass their notice leaving them oblivious until the comments would ask who the woman was.

The most intimate was when Tom and Henry both had caught one another back from a run to find the slightly delirious woman listening to music to stay awake waiting for the lift. Swaying and singing along to the song the already filming men joined her and had their most popular video yet building up the question even more, just who she was in general and to them. Their grins lingered and in the moment after they saw her sway her way out of the lift they finished off the video that they had begun. The main goal that they had been distracted from was to answer a question posted by a fanfic page that they had both stumbled onto by chance, what sort of smoothie would Loki and Superman have after a workout. Tales of a woman living with both Loki and Superman in the same building; comics and short stories always with the oc being caught up as a spectator for the duo of super beings with a hint that there was a chance it wasn’t one sided interest on the oc’s part.

“I don’t get it,” Henry said laying out all the supplies he had for a snack to go with the smoothies when they had stopped filming, “How does she just pop in and out like that?”

Tom chuckled saying, “Might be from her size.” Henry glanced at him, “You haven’t noticed? Must be a dancer or something to move like that and she’s got to be nearly half your size, two thirds mine.” Smirking at his grinning friend, “I can admit you’re broader.” After a quick sip he said, “But I have you on speed.”

Henry chuckled, “I am not built for speed.” He said moving around Kal while he drank from his water fountain, “I leave that to Kal.”

“That’s just no fair, he’s got two extra legs.” Tom teased. “So, any hints yet where your Lois lives?”

Henry chuckled, “She lives on your floor, Buddy, be just odd if I was caught snooping around.”

Tom grinned, “Easy, just let Kal off on the floor, knock around for him.”

Henry nodded with his brows raised, “So, just, let my dog loose and then knock on doors asking what exactly? Hello, I believe my thumbless companion got off on this floor by mistake, you wouldn’t happen to be holding him captive, would you?” Tom was laughing by the time he had finished talking and he said, “Truly brilliant. No wonder I’m single with a wingman like you.”

Tom, “Hey, Kal is the best wingman, you find that door, just knock and have him there with a note and a rose inviting her to dinner.”

Henry smirked again, “Again, could kidnap Kal.”

Tom rolled his eyes, “Fine then, resort to a teddy bear and don’t use your best advantage.”

Henry chuckled, “Out of all of me, and my dog is my best advantage, thanks.”

Tom chuckled, “She can surf the internet, no doubt she’s seen nearly all of you. Got to add something extra. Something domestic.”

Henry nodded teasing back, “Domestic.”

Tom, “Don’t doubt it, you have a healthy happy lovable dog, as good as a man with a baby. You can keep him alive, great sign for being able to-,”

Henry chuckled, “No, come on, finish the thought, what, I can leave a plate of food out for her? Open a bag or can and just leave it lying around for if she possibly gets hungry, take her for walks.”

Tom smirked, “You know what I mean. Our lives are public, she has to see what no one else gets to. Find the spark that draws her eye.”

Henry nodded, “Sure, I’ll keep my eye peeled for a spark.”

He didn’t mean to be such a cynic sometimes but for all the pent up irritation for yet another bout of filming for Superman coming up he was shedding water weight and it was turning him into a giant toddler it seemed. He wanted nothing more than to throw his alarm clock every morning and just pull his covers up and never leave home again just quitting the superhero business altogether. Waxing this morning didn’t help matters either, pink and irritated his skin felt terrible and sweating only made it worse so as soon as his friend left to go to his own apartment downstairs he spent a good five minutes just letting the hot water wash over him mentally cursing everyone forcing him through this hell. ‘For the fans’ that was the excuse, always given to the actors hating being torn apart and shoved to the brink of blacking out just to get that impossible ripped look men strove to be but never knew what it took to achieve themselves.

Hours later post early night in five am came and groaning and cursing into his pillow in a shove off his belly he scowled his way off his knees to his feet to storm his way into his gym clothes and sneakers. A slammed hand onto his bag later and he choked the hold of the fabric in his fingers with knuckles turning white for a tantrum adjacent trip to the gym nearby. Into the locker his bag was nearly thrown and right through the sea of bulky men he found his usual place catching more than a few familiar faces in the same mood he was in. He had to wait to blow off some steam first before filming or he would be reduced to cussing out everyone watching in a surely career killing clip he couldn’t dare send out right now after having promised his mother not to do that after her last time talking him down from the rage she had unknowingly called him in the middle of.

Across the room however the same baggy cut off t donning woman with Capri sweats that shifted around her toned legs unlike the legging clad women on the second floor hoping to impress by leaving as little to the imagination as possible was spotted. Alternating arms with bulky weights in each hand flowing through the same set routine as always while the massive men by comparison took full claim over what they wanted when they wanted forcing her to the left overs. A stray strand of black curls dangling from the messy bun on top of her head tapped between her shoulder blades with each arm lowering from a lift to the confirming tap finishing the move holding his focus from the burn on his arms in the swinging arms of the machine he brought together. Each tap of the weights rising and falling came with his silent wish for her to turn around to just give him a guess at what color her eyes were.

A break in his sets however had her passing the weights over to a smaller meathead forcing her off her spot to the sit up foundation he was coming off of. In her wiping it down he lifted his water bottle and froze when it reached his lips trying to calculate how much he could drink to spread it out to keep up ‘the look.’ Only to pause seeing her finger outstretch to tilt the water bottle higher on the largest meathead in the lower floor, one of the first people he met when coming here who froze then melted into acceptance hearing her say, “We love you, be sexy tomorrow.” Taking a much larger swig and pausing to steady from his moment of glassy eyed gaze that had triggered her sentiment he nodded and cut it down for the rest of his workout.

Even as a stranger she had caught on that he wasn’t at his best and pretending the order was for him Henry took a big swig and decided to cut back himself, spoiling himself and assuring that he would be there tomorrow to in fact be sexy for the cameras even if he couldn’t slice something with his abs. The message un-verbally rippled through the gym in a sort of group revolt against whatever was bringing them all here to tear themselves apart. And while she clung to the heavy weighted plate to her chest she dipped and rose again gritting her teeth and trying not to make any sort of pained noise until she met her goal and sat breathing steadily with the weight resting on her surely while the burn in her abs and legs calmed down.

Two machines later while she was going from planks to handstand push ups on a mat to the side from the packed machines the man who received the reminder of love and self care came over to help Henry film his video who smirked seeing her dip to plank again making the two men behind her freeze once again. Though without her feet touching down she held the pose only to rise up again and then fold in half to ‘tap’ her toes to the ground she couldn’t quite reach in that position then raise her legs up again. Occupied machines be damned she was getting her body to burn as much as necessary in spite of the big men refusing to let her through asserting their dominance for ‘their territory’ the lower level still held for them.

Showering in the gym would be a must with how drenched his shirt was and by the time he had gotten out he’d assumed she would be long gone after feeling like his body was trying to be a sponge and soak up all the water it could through his skin even after his splurge moment. All the same strolling back home again in a sweater and jeans his eyes lingered on the same woman leading the way back in a near backless t shirt with wing cutouts over her jean shorts. Near to a toe top swaying sort of walk reminding him of a sneaking kitten always luring him closer she halted and his eyes shifted around knowing that move, a turn to blend in behind something with her bag around the corner of the building she was hidden by the pillar surrounding the entrance. Widening his steps he got to her side when he saw why she had hid, the pair of laughing clearly drunk men taking several minutes to cross the abandoned street corner spilling their open bottles tucked in bags failing to be subtle.

A cheer as he turned to block her from sight and the noise darting his gaze from her step out agreeing to use his shadow in the lamplight to hide from the duo, “Woo! Superman!”

The other man stepped closer saying, “Shhh! He’s not wearing the cape! No worries Mr Kent!” turning around in a circle he shouted, “We all know Superman’s out in Batman’s Court thingy!” Swatting his hand at his buddy’s arm only to nearly fall over.

Rolling his eyes Henry called back, “Mind the roads guys.” Holding his natural accent back in his first few steps continuing homewards after confirming she was keeping up with him. A whoop of a siren cut off any chance of the men noticing her sending groans echoing through the streets when the officer that was called on the disturbance arrived.

Into the building they strolled far more relaxed in a side by side stance in the new peace of the time alone and into the lift steps and a joint turn were taken. The same buttons were pressed wordlessly by Henry who narrowed his eyes watching the floor number change mentally screaming to just say anything. A poke at his middle once at her floor however dropped his gaze to her and the pinch of his sweater in the doors opening split a curious smirk across his face. Honey dripped and sending an ache to hear more of it her voice sounded in asking, “Where’d you get this?”

“I, didn’t. Mum sent it.”

He could have slapped himself in her step out into the hall and just when he was ready to shout something she added, “Stay comfy, Sugar Plum.”

That was it, millions of men and women once calling him baby faced now calling him Daddy expecting to win his affections or attention and in sloppy steps, if in cartoon form his body would be melting into a puddle of goo evaporating into hearts. He had to somehow learn to talk to you, he had to break the ice and gain your comfort in more than sharing an elevator, gym or be used as your hiding spot. No one, not one of his exes had called him something as spine tingling as Sugar Plum and he doubted they would have wanted to. Teddy Bear sure, even a Pookie thrown in the mix when they were pouting to be pampered, but nothing so new or unique and as embarrassing as it should be the man portraying the Man of Steel wished to be nothing more than your Sugar Plum.

He loved hugs, he was borderline clingy, always hoping to drape around the person of his desires. To spoon and in his past be rarely spooned in return, tiny and somehow formidable in her own right he had hoped she would allow him to be passive, at least from time to time, that some sort of androgyny could be mixed in the relationship he was picturing. The cute angry moments when she couldn’t reach things he could help her reach in various ways. The coveted moments where she would drown in shirts borrowed from his closet, mornings to wake with a breakfast made by one of them and arguments ending in laundry thrown about to cut loose and have fun instead of getting lost in tiny irritations.

An hour had passed before he realized it and a telling ring tone had him answering and lovingly sighing out from his place sprawled across his bed, “She called me Sugar Plum and touched my shirt.”

Instantly that had Tom set off into question mode snapping the lovable goofball out of his heart balloon daze when he was snapped back to the telling fact that he said nothing in return and had missed another chance luring groans from his plotting friend out of town for work again. The call eventually ended and Henry posted the video he had captured only to finally watch it to see the woman his comments kept talking about behind him making him melt back onto his bed again remembering your nickname.

“I have to do everything myself.” Tom muttered strolling through the diner he had stopped in after an interview for a magazine shoot only to pause seeing the same woman again seated alone making him smirk and cross straight for the booth he sat in lifting her gaze from the menu in her hands. “What are we having?”

Without missing a beat she said, “We’re having a cheat day.”

“We are?”

She nodded, “You sat down, welcome to the boat. Take the consequences in stride there Mr H.”

With a smirk from him that was it. The beginning of a friendship that felt stretched thin just as it had begun, as in their parting she said she was off to film for four months leaving their friendship online and through messages. Somehow he’d managed her email, a fact leaving Henry halfway between staring and glaring at him for a while after he had mentioned it knowing he was off for his own bout of filming in the morning allowing Tom some space to recover their friendship by cushioning the groundwork and talking up his friend.

No thank you’s were required, ever, the walk with Henry wasn’t the first time and Tom had acted similarly catching a gawker in the super market he stepped into protective mode. Insisting she was safe. Never possessive but protective, not a claim of marking her as theirs but demanding that the man respected the lady in question, both raised well by their mothers to defend women and never disrespect them, even with their differing of one having two sisters, and the other brothers. Between the both of them it was clear you were to be protected, and still fluffing his feathers out after a bad relationship he settled to helping his friend to land the woman he hoped to be falling just as hard as his friend seemed to be. A conundrum wrapped in a mystery on legs the pair couldn’t quite work out leading to some aims to dig for any press to see if they could work out a bigger picture and find a good angle to go past Tom’s suggestion to use Kal.

“Hey Richie Rich.”

Lowly a chuckle sounded through the line, “Ugh,” you could hear your friend smoothing a hand over his face, “So knackered. Three back to back flights between interviews. Really the wrong side out.”

“No hugs from your snuggle buddy yet?” His sheepish chuckle had your own grin splitting out through your own exhaustion, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your subtle hints you’ve been cuddling up to somebody. They treating you well?”

After a reluctant pause he answered, “They are, yes.”

“Good, if not I’m going for their knees.” He chuckled again and your mind flashed back to the exasperated call you had gotten after a few too many glasses of wine when he had first hinted at a possible relationship. True he didn’t remember the tipsy request for advice from the awkward demi who had worse luck in love than he had easing the task of skating past the touchy subject the withdrawn man reluctant to share his most tender side of himself. Something he had caught hints he had shown glimpses and began to see that you would be there to catch him if he would jump into this bond fully.

From work to his private life he had folded back that curtain and even in the longest stretches where he would fall silent and unintentionally ghost people in delving into his characters. Since first meeting as Daniel Miller and Bell, her reluctantly used CIA agent far from tamable or conquerable, he would receive her small messages. Single orders out of nowhere to have a cup of tea or the most puzzling at three in the morning while filming in the middle of nowhere to eat a carrot he knew his distant friend was waiting and still caring for him. Always there and willing to listen to his hours of ranting when he was stuck with an avalanche on information illegible to his character he had studied all folding into place with a single unorthodox question on a quirk his character might have. One slipped smiley face on a folded slip of paper on set your first day and his smile was now at home when he was in contact with or near you.

“I saw your latest pop up online. They have a whole Instagram account dedicated to their shadows you know.”

“Ugh,” he chuckled and you replied, “it’s not my fault they keep filming in public spaces.”

“No it’s not. But it is not ok you haven’t gotten their number yet.”

“And just whose number am I supposed to be getting exactly there Casanova?”

“Either one seems a catch. I hear they both are wonderful. Marten and Benedict are close to Tom, I’ve only heard about Henry in passing,”

“I am not going to assume-,”

“You are phenomenal and they are blind if they haven’t caught on yet. Besides, Tom’s been catching up on Berlin Station, no doubt Bell will catch his eye.”

“I’m in fishnets and a corset my first scene, that’s not usually an eye seeking missile,” again he laughed and shifted in his seat at your sarcastic comment, “Besides, you know how much I hate it all being so physical. I know they’re attractive, I have eyes, just the typical actress hoping to be more than just to be somebody’s piece of ass.”

“I get it, trust me,” true you were nearly half his age but this one thing you bonded in. Drop dead gorgeous even without the pound of makeup and burlesque costume from your first meeting that faded away in the first awful joke you had whispered to him between sets to break his set in scowl for the lighter scene coming up and he could see the dazzler within. Awkward duckling in swans clothing with absolutely verbatim knowledge on how marketable her facade was with only a wish to curl up at home on the funds you had earned in flawless take after take with jokes between. Not shy but comfortable in yourself only timid around others who never seemed to wish to look deeper driving you to older companions a generation ahead or even publicly out actors who wouldn’t dare to ever imply they were wishing to cross that line.

A few well placed publicity dates here and there at first and the act had tired you out of the process altogether and now added to the stealthy ladies of the limelight unwilling to share their dating lives, as of you had one. You were evenly matched with decades in between, now nearing his silver fox years happily Richard had taken the first leap to stop tearing himself apart for roles to meet the standards for the required shirtless scenes now less frequent in his acceptable dad bod years. It wasn’t hard to understand and commiserate in the shared effect on your daily lives to force workouts, facials, skin regimens and the like to keep up your profession and roles. “Have you at least talked to Tom lately?”

“His mum sent me a package.”

“Ooh, nice how did that happen?”

“Well, ran into Tom in the lift last week and he mentioned he would be off filming but he said something about an early birthday gift was being sent to him and he wouldn’t be able to get back in time. He spaced on the dates not realizing he wouldn’t be here and I guess my comment before when I got his last script in my box by mistake and left some spare biscuits I bought with them and said I’m next door if he needs anything.”

“Ah, so when she sent you a package-,”

“He got a package at my place, which if it happens again I’m counting it as permission to say we’ve at least dated to even the intimacy.” Making him chuckle again, “No doubt he would understand that logic.”

Another knock had you walking to your door and listening in he heard you sign for the package then close the door saying, “Robert Downey jr has my address.”

To which he replied, “Oh that is datable offense right there, friends and family too.”

“Speaking of dates,” you said plopping back onto your couch leaving the box by the other on the end of your coffee table settling your notepad turned planner for your travel plans for the upcoming convention you were appearing at for two different series and a sci-fi trilogy you were the lead in. “Heard about a certain uncle.” Again making him chuckle bashfully, “I am so proud of you. Loved Crucible and this will be just as spectacular.”

“Thank you, and I can’t wait to see the third installment of the, what the hell is it called again? The porcupine raptor thing?”

“Goruntrafnacerptornius.” You said with a giggle. Used to being asked how to say it as the only actor in the film to have mastered the name in the whole franchise leaving the others abbreviating the bastardized cloned dinosaur chimeras the size of toasters. Main creatures in a new Jurassic Park twist with the tiny creatures enlisting the aid of a dishonored and framed alien warrior(you) and her mixed group of fellow banished prisoners to help build a bridge to an unclaimed island for them to rule apart from their former Master. Enemies to family of misfits and unlikely bond tropes exploding into this nonsensical idea of a show seemed to be crack on film people flocked to in droves. “If you weren’t working I’d invite you to the premier. Looks like I’ll have to settle for sending you a copy when it’s out maybe to add to your pile to watch.”

“I always watch yours first, you know that.” Another notification that the latest video you had popped up in sounded on your phone as Richard’s doorbell rang, “Ah, Love, that’s my breakfast.”

“Say no more, I have to get ready anyways myself. Get there and back in time for Henry to wake me up again at five. Love you.”

“Love you, call you tomorrow.”

In the click the phone app dissolved and left the social page open showing the groggy barely conscious video of you fresh off your last flight home before Tom had left with Henry and Tom dancing along to the song you were listening to and belting out over mouthing along as you had imagined racking up notices on. The blurry shots of their faces and yours left people dismissing it as a fake if not posted by Henry himself on his way to the gym later that night, the same place his previous video had been filmed. Another edited clip of his various workouts with ample comments on you the mystery woman in the back of the shot doing far more impressive body weight exercises as the larger men hogged the machines and hand weights ending. Complete with a post shower poke to his sweater you then pinched stirring a curious smirk from him at your asking where he got it.

Filming was hard but in the middle of a groggy exchange with Tom you had fallen asleep sending off an answer to his question of, ‘Have you seen the new Superman costume? What do you think of it?’ Trying to see if anyone he knew came up with the same answer as the comic you had posted hours prior stating that he was trying to be more like Batman and could slip into shadows easier with darker shades than the Reeves version of the costume. Complete with images of different tries to hide only to have various colored parts of the costume point him out from the old one almost like a glow stick in the shadows to the new one with just a voice bubble saying, ‘Perfect.’

‘Looks like he wants it taken off.’ Tom couldn’t help but laugh first at the message then Henry’s deep inhale and excuse to refill his drink to hide his blush. Replies went unanswered leaving Tom grinning and stating you must have fallen asleep after being unable to only to be woken a few hours with a flurry of answers with an apology.

Finally a lapse in filming would bring you back to their path, right after a press stop of your own, all able to meet up for a dinner after the first night of the convention you were all set to attend. It was getting colder every day and finally Henry through Tom had answered the question of where the sweater was from. The real question being how would you handle the press, because it was out now, who was in the videos with the men and questions were swirling around. You could ignore them living on the tiny island to film the latest bit for the long running crime show you had filmed another three episode arc on for the next season coming up after the skyrocketing effect your last pop in had given the show that was near leveling off in interesting plot lines. They needed a villain and boy did you supply one.

A bad storm however had kept you from one fan meet that was canceled and for an hour you offered answers for the people who had sent questions to your account asking for when it might be rescheduled so they could talk to you. Needless to say wine had been opened and perhaps a swig too many and you felt yourself warming up and dozing off stating that you would only answer a couple more questions. The final ones you had read was ‘The holidays are coming up, any special plans for Christmas, New Years and Valentines?’

The one after being, ‘WHAT?!!!!’ Pertaining to your stunning answer before passing out, ‘Next to Tom Hiddleston and under Henry Cavill, same as most nights between jobs.’

Pt 2

#Henry Cavil x Reader OC #Tom Hiddleston #Richard Armitage #Request

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pythosart · 4 years

Text

A big ol 2019 end of the year update

I felt somewhat compelled to write my end of the year/decade thoughts, but a warning before you read: This one’s going to be heavy, intensely personal, and long. If you don’t feel up to reading that, it may be best to skip it. I promise I’ll go back to shutting up and posting art afterwards. I’m profoundly incapable of being concise, ever, so apologies for the length of this.

2019 was a nightmare.

Some background: In mid 2016, my mother was diagnosed with a rare form of liver cancer. She was given a few months to live. She was given weeks or months to live multiple times, for almost three years. In that time my mom was in and out of the hospital, but spent all her good days living life to the fullest, starting and finishing dream projects, and keeping all of us going despite her own situation. Even when she was bedridden, hooked up to tubes and bags and god knows what, she found time to prop up her loved ones and pursue her hobbies. She even managed to develop new hobbies and interests while otherwise imprisoned by her physical state, something I struggle to do at the best of times even in my young and relatively healthy form. If there’s anything I can make of this experience, it’s that I hope to grow into even half the woman my mother was.

I ended 2018 with my final quarter at SCAD. I spent the entire quarter terrified my mom was going to die while I was away from home. It was horrific, I barely scraped by my last few classes (bless my professors’ endless patience), and immediately left Savannah for home as soon as the quarter was up. I never had room to celebrate finishing college. Any other year it would be a huge milestone, but I barely even care.

This past May, my mother passed away, after three years of petrifying suspense. It happened in the dead middle of the night, while my best friend was visiting for a con, and it still feels like a bad dream. It’s also one of the only vivid memories I even have of this year.

I wish I had more to say on that, but I genuinely think the drawn out suffering and fracturing of my whole world left me unable to fully unpack everything that’s happened. It’s hard to even think about for long, and at times I even half-forget she’s gone. I think of things I want to show her, or tell her, or cook with her. Just the other day I kept thinking I’d tell her how much I liked endive after she showed me how to make it. I found a historical Italian cooking channel that, every time I see it, I just think of how much she’d love it. I knew she’d love Hot Fuzz but never got to show her. Little, stupid things that shouldn’t matter, but they do. They just do.

My mother and I were close, much closer than I am with my dad. Especially towards the end of her life, we had gotten closer, and I felt like I was only just really getting to know her as an equal. I still want to share my life with her, but that chance is gone.

This holiday season has been especially rough in her absence, because not only was my mom the motivational and creative force behind a lot of holiday activities here, it’s the first everything without her. We had Thanksgiving with friends and a catered dinner, instead of spending several days cooking and polishing family silver and setting the table. I won’t be making handmade tortellini with her for Christmas like we did every year. It’s the little things like that.

We’re a tiny family, with over half of us in Italy and lacking much communication due to the language barrier. Family holidays were always small, but there’s just a huge hole how, much greater than the cold numeric value of “one fewer participant.” My mom was always a driving force and a keystone in our support networks, not to mention the main line of contact with the Italian-speaking side of the family, so now the family feels so much more scattered and isolated than ever.

My girlfriend was close to my mother too, and as she’s been living with me for years now and is practically part of the family, I think she took it just as hard as anyone. Cel saw everything I did, and dealt with many of the same uncertainties and traumatic experiences I did.

A month after I lost my mother, I lost my cat too. Galileo was twelve years old, a spry old man who yelled instead of meowed, and just a wonderful cat. I got him when I was in 7th grade, after begging my parents for years to get me a cat. It was my mom who eventually overrode my dad’s hesitations, and from then on Leo was part of the family. He went through a very sudden decline over the course of a week or two, and we learned it was cancer. Feline lymphoma, I think. I had to make the call to put him to sleep, and it ripped what was left of my heart out.

Not that it needs stating, but fuck cancer.

A few too-short months later, I cut ties with a “friend,” which despite how fucking much it hurt, was really for the best. At a certain point one simply can no longer afford to waste energy on a certain kind of person. Unfortunately I’m a persistently optimistic idiot, and it took me too long to cut my losses before deep damage was done. Done to me, my close friends, and even barely involved acquaintances this “friend” dumped on relentlessly and tried to harass into spying on me. Really, if any part of this is unforgivable, it’s that.

All this was, however, a valuable reminder that it’s no good to have any tolerance for habitually dishonest people, even if they think they’re doing it to look “nice.” Chronic liars will gaslight you whether they know it or not, and trying to navigate that in an already damaged mental state is inadvisable. It was an important lesson in picking one’s battles, albeit one learned too late. I’m still holding out hope I can find it in my heart to forgive this person, if only for my own selfish sake so I can move on. I have a lot of experience living on spite, and I don’t want to make a further habit of it.

Naturally all of the above did little to curb my already inflamed pessimism about the state of my country and the world at large, but I need not expand on that, I imagine.

I suppose it would be unfair of me to leave it all at that and only mention the negative, though admittedly positivity is hard to muster these days. A few bright spots of note:

Graduated from SCAD with my BFA in Sequential Art (technically last year, but I did the ceremonial bit this year)

Tabled at Animazement with Woods. We barely broke even, but it was a great time and I plan on doing it again in the new year.

Spent literally an entire month hanging out with my two best friends, which was amazing and exactly the kind of healing experience I needed around that time of year.

Properly did Halloween for the first time in years. I made a costume I’m proud of and we went out on the town… for like an hour, because it promptly started pouring. But fun nevertheless

Started therapy. As of writing this, I’ve only had an introductory session, but it’s a start. Should have started six months ago, but didn’t for reasons to be addressed...in therapy

Started volunteering at the local natural history museum, where I spent like half my childhood. I’ll be doing data entry in collections, but that’s still cool as hell

Got a start on figuring out what I want to do with my life. It’ll involve going back to school for science within the next five-ish years, but it’s nice to have a goal. More of a goal than I’ve ever had, in fact.

Played some extremely good video games (shout out to The Blackout Club and Control)

Made a shitload of unnecessary yet endlessly fun and good AUs with my friends and my one (1) OC

Got an iPad Pro and started learning Procreate, which has gotten me drawing more

Learned a bit of needle felting

2019 was a year of getting much closer to my two best friends, and I genuinely owe them my life at this point. I don’t know where I’d be without them. Nowhere good, certainly.

Woods and Dross kept me talking to people, kept me creating, told me when I was being unreasonable or needed to cool it, heard me out when I needed it but always kept me honest. They helped me keep some creative juices flowing when otherwise I’d have been at a frustrated loss and might have given up for good. If it seems like I’ve kept up my usual art output at all, and if you’ve enjoyed the Lou content (or not, whoops... apologies to everyone who followed me for monster content) you have both of them to thank.

Even moreso, I owe my girlfriend a great deal for being there for me through all of this while she herself was suffering similarly. She and I have had our ups and downs, and been through a lot in the five-ish years we’ve been together. We aren’t the most outspoken couple, but I think our mutual understanding and pain mitigated a lot of the damage this year has done. I don’t think I could have handled it alone.

Furthermore, I really need to thank a lot of other friends and acquaintances I’m not quite as close with, but still talk to. These people especially were willing to call me on my bullshit when necessary, or just talk to me at all, about anything. Even if these acquaintances didn’t know it at the time, there’s a good chance they were dragging me out of one of my frequent existential despair spirals.

I also, weirdly, owe a lot to helping my hen Julia recover from her dog attack. That was around the time that my mom’s health was in its final decline, when I felt the most helpless and despairing. I think having even some tiny something I could do to help was like, the only feeling of control I had in life for a bit there. Julia’s fine, by the way. Still queen of the yard, top chicken boss bitch, etc. Julia was always a kind of kindred spirit with my mom, in a way. Little but not to be underestimated, gray, big personality and commanding presence… Not to mention, she was one of the first in our flock and was always my mom’s favorite.

It would be too much to say I have high hopes or plans of any kind for the upcoming year, but I do have a list of things I want to try and do. Some of which will involve art, and the posting thereof.

Big if on this one, but I’ve also recently started therapy (only took me half a year to work up to making a phone call after the first failed attempt took all the wind out of my sails) and I have…maybe not high hopes, but hopes, for that doing something to help. I should have started therapy two years ago, but the second best time is now, etc etc.

I have a lot of New Year’s resolutions, beyond the usual “get in shape, drink less coffee, blah blah” that I’ll try and write up a little list of separately. Most of them are art-related, so you all will be there to watch me swing and miss I PROMISED I’D TRY TO BE LESS NEGATIVE. New Year’s resolution #1: Maybe don’t make so many self-deprecating jokes.

Anyway, I don’t know how to end any wall of text, be it an OC worldbuilding screed or something serious like this, so... I guess, love yourself, cherish your friends, know when to put your own needs first and when to put your friends’ needs firster. One of the things my mom taught me in this past year or so is that relationships are what you make of them, and that it’s okay to be selfish sometimes. Be generous, be genuine, don’t be a doormat and don’t lie to people you care about, even if it seems kinder in the moment. Savor the time you have with those close to you, and spend time doing things you love. Cliché, maybe, but cliché can still be true. Happy new year, everyone. I sincerely hope it will treat us all better. 2020 may just be an imaginary change of numbers, but I like to think it really does wipe the slate in a way, and make room for all of us to do what we can to be better. Speaking of which, vote. For the love of all that is good, vote.

A little bullet list of New Year’s resolutions, because it’s nicer to look at

Try to get back in shape (of course) - That 30 days of strength thing was good while it lasted, despite my joints hating me

Learn some new recipes, preferably with fewer carbs, you Italian ass

Keep a physical calendar and stick with it for at least a few months

Learn at least one new skill by the middle of the year, whether it’s art-related or something else

Start writing more. Don’t have to share it, but try. Write down ideas somewhere other than Discord where they’re easy to lose

Either reopen Patreon or figure out how ko-fi works. Even if it’s for no money, just to have structure and goals.

Do Animazement again and try out some new product types

Go to SCAD career fair with a decent portfolio

Get better about spending, by whatever method works

Attend some art classes at the local collectives, doesn’t matter what

Play more video games. I swear I only played like three new things this year

Read more classic literature and nonfiction, at least one book per month. I’ve been really enjoying Agatha Christie’s works and am about to start Guns, Germs, and Steel

Read more comics. Basically just consume more media

Do Halloween again, better this time

See friends in person more

Practice accepting whatever shitty thoughts show up and then letting them go, rather than dwelling on them

#not art #text post #death cw

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