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themculibrary · 6 months

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Mature Rated Fics Masterlist 2

part one

Complimentary Colors (ao3) - zenkitty555 stephen/tony 32k

Summary: Tony Stark is learning how to let go and live a little after giving his all for so long. Stephen Strange is still trying to balance all of his duties and find some time for himself. When Tony has to give him some bad news, the two start to realize that they may be able to help one another out in a few different ways.

Compression (ao3) - NamelessDragon bucky/loki 102k

Summary: Bucky's been in Wakanda a while, trying to keep his head down and learn to enjoy life again in the wake of the removal of Hydra's programming.

Then one day he falls down a hole into a secret lab.

Things don't get easier from there.

Dissonance (ao3) - stuckybarnes peter/wade 121k

Summary: Wherein Deadpool is reluctantly hired to protect Peter Parker from an organization out to hunt him, with varying success on both ends and quite a lot of feelings, revelations, and identity crises.

Do No Harm (ao3) - AuroraWest, the_genderman loki/stephen 69k

Summary: When Loki stole the Tesseract from the Avengers, he hadn’t been trying to break the universe. Nor had he anticipated a wizard saving his life.

Now, Loki finds himself in the New York Sanctum, helping Stephen Strange hold the universe together—while he himself falls apart. But trouble finds the God of Mischief whether he invites it or not, and good things don’t last for Loki. As his universe crumbles and takes another with it, he’ll be faced with a choice: the greater good or the people he loves.

Halo (ao3) - paxlux loki/tony 35k

Summary: The timeline starts in a fall of glass. There’s a staggering loss of gravity as Tony stares up at the suddenly blue sky.

i'm fine all alone (but its nice to be here with you) (ao3) - soliloquent steve/tony 9k

Summary: “Steve is content with spending the holidays alone. Being alive in a safe world — that was reason enough to be grateful, however fleeting this sense of security might be.

He is more than surprised to learn that Tony plans on spending it alone, too.”

—⎊—

or: Two months after the Battle of Earth, Tony, grappling with post-retirement uncertainty and an identity crisis, invites Steve on a Christmas trip to Jamaica. 🍹

Kingdom Come (ao3) - soniclipstick (veriscence) clint/phil, steve/tony 85k

Summary: Clint can't let go of his guilt, Phil knows something isn't right about his resurrection, and everybody knows Nick Fury lies.

There's an epic love story in there somewhere, if only Clint and Phil could look up from their wallowing and see what they have right in front of their eyes.

Hawkguy-616-MCU mash up. Beware the continuity.

Revenant (ao3).- stele3 steve/bucky 73k

Summary: Post-movie AU in which Bucky didn’t just leave Steve on a river bank...he took him.

Rock Me Gently (ao3) - enigma731, invisibledaemon gamora/peter 479k

Summary: “She is our--She is Gamora,” Nebula says. “There is only one Gamora and I know her better than any of you do.” She pauses and glares at Peter, clearly challenging him to protest that. For once, he doesn’t dare. “This Gamora has jumped forward in time nine years, but she is the same person at her core. Just as you are the same despite not having experienced the last five years I did. We are all just--out of sync at the moment.”

Take Me Home (ao3) - dabblingwithwords steve/bucky, pepper/tony 78k

Summary: “I’m so sorry, I’m gonna help you I promise, just don’t move, fuck, I ran over Captain America–” the man apologized, over and over, and all Steve managed to say was, “You’re really attractive,” before passing out on the guy’s lap in the middle of the road.

Terrible Idea (ao3) - MountainRose, szzzt steve/tony 55k

Summary: Steve and Tony get captured by AIM. Steve can handle bad wine and worse monologuing, but when he gets back to the cell, Tony's not quite how he left him.

It doesn't slow them down much.

The Contract (ao3) - Laily loki/stephen 60k

Summary: An awkward dinner party brings Doctor Stephen Strange and Loki of Asgard together; though ill-at-ease, still they seek the company of each other, being the odd ones out. One wakes up somewhat rested, the other in the worst pain of his life.

Thor is not a happy camper.

The Last Love Song of Anthony E. Stark (ao3) - jibrailis steve/tony, loki/sif 42k

Summary: After contracting an Asgardian virus, Tony starts forgetting things. And people. And Steve.

The Road to Courage (By Way of San Francisco) (ao3) - Sproings steve/bucky 89k

Summary: A road trip with Bucky sounded great. Except for the corporate sponsorship. And the strangers who’d be going with them. And the way Bucky always said they were “practically brothers” when Steve wanted ...

He tried not to think about what he wanted.

It was going to be a long drive to California.

The Tears We Hold Back (ao3) - Scarlet_Black wanda/natasha 115k

Summary: After losing her brother and her home, Wanda moves in with the Avengers, where a friendship grows between her and Natasha - and eventually develops into something more. But life catches up with them when someone interferes with the missions Wanda goes on and Natasha finds out that the Red Room is still operating.

This is a slow burn, post AoU tower fic (that takes place in the Avengers compound).

the shadows of beasts and kings (ao3) - GrimRevolution 43k

Summary: madness /măd′nĭs/ noun

1) A defense against terror.

2) A defense against grief.

til the clocks run down (ao3) - andibeth82 clint/laura/natasha 257k

Summary: "I think I do love her."

The words don’t shock her -- not really, not when she lets herself think about it. She does believe that Clint hadn't been sure about how deep his feelings for Natasha went the first time he admitted his attraction to her. But Laura would have been a fool to believe there wasn’t something more developing, especially after being around them in the few times they’d visited together since Clint’s confession. It had been easy to tell how their partnership was becoming comfortable, a relationship as worn and cozy as the one Laura’s built for herself with the man she’s loved for almost eight years.

[the beginning, the middle, and the journey home]

Things Unseen (That Are Captured on Film) (ao3) - scifigrl47 steve/tony, clint/phil 41k

Summary: In which the Avengers discover the video footage of Tony testing the Iron Man armor, and that goes about as well as it could be expected. Steve Rogers attempts to make peace with his lover's rather cavalier attitude to his health and safety, and starts learning more about Tony's family along the way, both the one he was born into, and the one he's chosen. And, of course, the one that's chosen him.

Subtitled: It's all Clint's fault. No one is surprised.

Whatever you say darling (ao3) - XtaticPearl bucky/tony 9k

Summary: Tony has been trying to woo Bucky for about a year now. He flirts, he builds him things, he kisses him on the cheek after movie nights and does almost everything he can think of to convince the guy that he really wants to date him. Bucky is strangely steadfast in his answer though: No, they can't date. After an explosive argument about the issue, Tony leaves the Tower for Malibu, making the team wary of a moody Bucky. When he comes back after two weeks, things are a bit...different.

Tony is actually doing exactly what Bucky asks. And it is creeping the team out while making Bucky go crazy.

what pain it was to drown (ao3) - winteratdusk steve/bucky 37k

Summary: It was November of 1941, the air was bright and clear and cold, and Bucky was starting to feel like he was living at the end of the world.

Or, with the world at war, responsibility on his shoulders, and the draft looming closer by the day, Bucky's just trying his best to stay afloat. Drinking seems to help, until it doesn’t.

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #masterlists #mature #mature masterlist

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k3lynn · 4 years

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already won — kenma kozume

kenma kozume x f!reader oneshot

- cw: jealous kenma, insecure kenma, like one or two cuss words, reassurence. barely angsty but very fluffy- more comedic than anything. shows more of the angry-kitty kenma than the shy-kitty kenma

- summary: 1.3k | kenma gets jealous after someone confesses their feelings for you

- this is my first oneshot ahh- please tell me what you think! also check out my masterlist (will frequently add more stuff) thank you for reading! this is a female reader but I will gladly do gender neutral or male!

back to haikyuu masterlist

Kenma walked down Nekoma High’s hallways, only passing a couple of students as most chose to stay in class during their break. In one hand, he held a bag with two apple pie flavored umaibo bars, and in the other, his phone.

Normally, he would be confident enough in his reflexes to never look up from his device and also not bump into someone, but he stared so intensely at his phone that he barely had time to react before he crashed into Yamamoto, sending himself flying to the ground.

“Pudding Head-“ the other second year loudly announced. “what’s got you so distracted man?”

In between getting up and muttering curses at gravity for letting him fall, Kenma softly spoke “Im heading off to Y/n’s class, she needs to speak with me.”

“In person? Must be prettyyyyy serious-“ he turned to see Kenma’s worried face “I mean it’s probably nothing!”

But Kenma just stared at him with a deadpanned expression.

“Wanna share an umaibo bar?”

“No.”

Despite knowing Tora meant no real harm, Kenma couldn’t help but almost (Almost, he swears) let his words get to him. The two of you have been dating for nearly a year, and your relationship seems perfectly okay to him. One or two dumb arguments, but nothing you both didn’t get through together. He knows you still love him.

What if it’s me-

And Kenma stopped his negative train of thought right there. No point getting nervous over something that hasn’t happened yet. He reasoned with himself.

As if the gods were playing some cruel joke on the poor boy, two girls came gossiping from around the corner, oblivious to the fact he was there. If it weren’t for the sound of your name, Kenma would have never listened into the conversation.

“Did you hear about what was on Y/n’s desk this morning?”

“That first years love letter right, I’m pretty sure she has a boyfriend though- do you think she’ll replace him?”

“That quiet setter on the volleyball team? I would barely consider him a boyfr-“

Interrupted by a soft thud and a crinkle, the girls turned around and squeeled in fright to see nothing but a plastic bag. Kenma didn’t let himself hear anymore before he started sprinting to your classroom. Darting across hallways, racing around corners, and even scurrying around a very confused Kuroo, who has never seen Kenma run outside of Volleyball.

He barely let himself breathe before sliding open the door to your classroom and barging in, pausing only when he realized the amount of startled faces looking straight at him. Not one to fancy all the attention, his eyes danced around the students until he finally made eye contact with you.

He quickly motioned for you to go outside before slowly closing the door. Kenma leaned his back againts the wall and took a deep breath. It wasn’t until you emerged from outside the classroom that he looked up.

Your typically-stoic boyfriend just came running into your classroom as if he witnessed a murder, so it’s safe to say you were a bit concerned at what he was about to say. Although once Kenma explained what he had overheard, you couldn’t help and giggle at the realization.

“So you’re jealous of the first year huh.”

“Don’t tease...”

With a sigh, you took his hand in one of yours, and used the other to tilt his chin up and look at you. If you couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks before, then you could definitely see it now.

“Want to talk about it babe?”

He wouldn’t be able to play his way out of this, Kenma had no choice but to be direct with how he felt.

“I know you love me, and you do everything you can to show me that-“

You nodded.

“but I’m terrified at the idea that one day you’ll find someone that’s better in expressing their feelings than me. Like with a love letter.”

He quietly finished. There was silence for only a moment before your arms found their place around his small shoulders, pulling him into a warm hug which he happily returned. He was so comfortable in your embrace that he had almost forgotten what he came for.

“Can I just start off by saying I’m really proud of you?” Your voice cut straight through the hushed air. “It takes a lot out of anyone to be able to say what they feel. I know it can be a bit more difficult for you.”

And yet you still try and do it when necessary. Kenma I know you love me too. You have nothing to worry about.”

Kenma wasn’t one to cry in public, but, this did make him come close.

It wouldn’t help his current situation, but curiousity got the best of him-

“Can I read the letter?”

You grinned a bit before handing it over to him, holding in a laugh from seeing his distasteful face and hearing the small curses he swore under his breath.

With how hard he gripped the paper, you were sure it would easily tear.

“He wants to meet you in the front courtyard after school to hear your answer.”

“I know, I’m planning on going.”

“Good idea, go break his heart.”

“No Kenma, I’m going to let him down slowly. Feelings are delicate and deserve to be respected.”

“His feelings don’t deserve jack shit.”

“Kenma!” You loudly chuckled. His monotoned voice making his choice of language even funnier-

“Whatever” his hands came down to grip your waist before giving you a shy kiss on the shoulder.

“I’ll beat the competition.” He muttered into your neck.

“Am I one of your games now?” You teased.

“Beep boop beep boop” he poked at your back.

“Kenma?”

“Yeah?”

You pull him back a bit to place a small kiss on the tip of his nose “You’ve already won.”

Bonus:

Kenma should have known Kuroo’s “disguises”, if you could even call them that, wouldn’t work. The trench coat and large hat the both of them wore did them no mercy in the hot Tokyo sun, and instead brought them more attention to ongoing passer-biers who probably thought they were up to some illegal activities.

Out of nowhere, Tora came aggressively crashing into the bushes that hid Kuroo and Kenma, adorned with his own form of camouflage that consisted of a simple fake mustache and sunglasses, holding a familiar looking plastic bag.

“I came as soon as I got your message Kuroo-san, care for an umaibo bar?”

“Hey that’s-“

“Shush Pudding boy it’s starting.”

The three of them pull out a pair of binoculars, aiming it towards you, sitting on the bench but standing up once you see a sheepish boy, who you assumed sent the letter, walk towards you.

You gave him a sorry looking smile before speaking with him. From this distance, Kenma could just make out the words “flattered but... boyfriend and... great guy...” satisfied at the view of you handing him his letter back.

The first year looked a bit deflated but nevertheless seemed happy to be talking with his crush. Kuroo and Tora backed up a bit at the image of Kenma’s frustration. They could have sworn they saw flames-

“Hey Kenma,” Kuroo spoke between munches “didn’t YN just make it clear she was in love with you or something”

“yeah” Kenma sighed.

“Why are we here then?”

“To make sure this creep doesn’t try anything with my girlfriend.”

“Oi Kenma,” Kuroo gave him a good slap on the back, and from behind the binoculars, Kenma glared. The three boys turned back to the scene, just in time to see you giving him a handshake.

“He’s practically holding her hand.”

“Kenma-“

#kenma x reader #kenma smut #kenma imagine #kenma headcanons #kenma scenario #kenma kozume #haikyuu kenma #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#anime #kenma oneshot #Kenma oneshots #nekoma #nekoma x reader

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clansayeed · 4 years

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Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 31: The Last Act part 2

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02, @hellyeah90sbaby,

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Gaius has sent Isseya to Paris with one mission: bring Nadya back to him at any cost. Things go about halfway as planned, and Cadence unwittingly rekindles an ancient rivalry. The fate of New York is revealed.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“Allez, for fuck’s sakes will you two move faster!”

They hear the crash and shatter of glass doors through the still-open window. No time to close it now. No time to do anything. Oh god.

“It’s a delicate-fucking-process!” Cadence snaps back, fangs bared, but this time Serafine meets him eye for eye and, well, fang for fang.

“Then be delicate, but be quick about it. We’ll try to stay together, but if splitting up becomes necessary, we meet up in the heart of the city as planned, yes?”

Nadya’s no use, still a little weak in the knees and there’s no way she was going to be able to help carry Lily in the event of an emergency evacuation from their hiding hole anyway. She hangs back, makes sure to stay out of the way, but keeps looking back and forth at the moving vampires hard enough to crack something in her neck.

“Nadya —” Serafine shoves a duffel bag into her hands; she fumbles but manages to hold onto a zipper, “— to the kitchen. Get as much of your blood as you can carry.”

She sees the flicker of hesitation in Nadya’s eyes, the way she looks over the woman’s shoulder to where Adrian and Cadence shoulder Lily’s limp weight as fast as they can without too much disturbance.

With a huff, Serafine grabs Nadya’s upper arms hard enough to hurt. Fresh bruises, that’s why it hurts. Fleetingly she remembers Valdas; the fingertip-touch.

“I need you to trust me right now. Trust that we will get Lily out of here safely. Please, petit. We are in more danger than you can fathom.”

She can fathom it pretty well, thanks. But Nadya nods and bolts off to do whatever (little) she can.

There’s a collective regret about the open window again — the next sound to catch on the wind sounds like banshees shrieking at midnight.

They’re getting closer.

“Argh,” Adrian growls in frustration, “just give her to me, here — watch the head.” He cradles Lily like a long and gangly baby; but does it all on his own. Cadence flashes him a questioning look.

BANG!

That would be the stairwell door. But which floor?

“You’re the strongest of any of us right now.” Adrian rasps in one harsh breath. His struggle and care to keep the young vampire in his arms as stable as possible is taking its toll on his still-starving body. “You’ve taken her on before, can you do it again?”

Serafine stops, rope in a loop over her shoulder (where did she… nevermind). She looks between the pair with growing panic as it dawns on her, suddenly, that they aren’t nearly as panicked about their incoming visitors as she is.

“That harpy of Les Trois Amants is the least of our problems right now —” she looks at them all in a whirlwind, “— or don’t you recognize the man at her side?”

Jax shrugs. “It’s not the other guy with a buzz-cut, right?”

“This isn’t the time for jokes!”

Serafine’s voice croaks; she lets out a strangled noise. Adrian shifts, wants to reach out for her, but has to think better of it for Lily’s sake. Nadya doesn’t let his sacrifice go unnoticed.

“Calm down, Serafine. Who is this guy?” And it pains her, that much is obvious, but she tries.

“That is Marc Antony, you fools.”

Another BANG! punctuates the silence; how they take in the reality and gravity of her revelation.

Nadya clears her throat. “You mean, like…”

“Like Gaius’ consolation prize after he failed to secure Caesar for his Court. Arguably a better choice for the King; and a terrible sentencing for the world.”

BANG! And this one is louder than the rest. They’re at the end of the hall. Probably not anymore.

“Processlater—runnow!”

Nadya turns and the door splinters open at her back. She grabs for the duffel strap across her chest, barely one foot off the ground—

Then the world is going sideways, Nadya’s going backward, and her head slams into the dated plaster hard and heavy and hurting. She slumps down, head hanging forward, and struggles to swallow down her bile.

Black boots come into view, their owner looming over her.

Isseya crouches down, dusting plaster from her leather pants. “Hello again, little Bloodkeeper.”

A familiar pain ignites atop her head. Isseya’s nails like claws raking over her scalp to yank her up by the knotted locks in her hair. Holding her on the tips of her toes like a puppet on strings.

“You—don’t—” teeth clenched, burning tears in her eyes keeping the woman a dark blur of red eyes and shining fangs, “—please—don’t do—this—”

Isseya snarls and leans forward, the soft whisper of her lips a stark contrast to the raw wound of her words.

“I gave you a chance to avoid this, girl. You wasted it—you did. Don’t tell me I don’t have to do shit. You’ve given us no other choice.”

Nadya can only sob; words beyond her now.

“Isseya!”

The woman whirls around at her name; shouted over the crack of splintering wood as Serafine and Antony move as blurs only distinguishable by color and size. Splinters of wood cut into Nadya’s cheeks and she tries to recoil, turning her face away in just enough time to see Cadence braced in the doorway to the kitchen.

Surprise—pain—loss—anger—hatred. There one instant and gone the next in a whirlwind. Isseya can’t tell who she wants to hate more; him for calling out to her with that voice he knows she could never ignore or herself for falling for it time and time again.

Jax comes out of seemingly nowhere at her side. Doesn’t give Isseya the moment’s rest to decide where to aim her anger as he shoves his boot in the middle of his chest. A powdery print left in the center before she goes flying backwards into the far wall.

“Nadya! Come on!”

Everything ringing in her ears.

“Get her out of here!”

Jax’s hand on her wrist, pulling her towards the open window. Adrian clings tightly onto the fragile form still in his arms, one foot over the wall and out into the night but he’s frozen in place, fixated; focus pulled to the iron-wrought grip Antony has on Serafine’s sword arm before he snaps it at the wrong angle.

“It’s been some time, Serafine.”

She snarls, bestial; in a way Nadya had previously thought only reserved for Cadence and Cynbel. “Not—nngh—long enough, I assure you!”

He laughs, deep and rich and so damn casual for the moment at hand. “You wound me!”

“Not to worry—I’m trying!”

A tight grip on Nadya’s upper arm makes her jump violently — Jax rounds in front of her hard and resolute.

“Go, follow Adrian. I’ll be right behind you.”

“But—” Back to Serafine who resorts to shouldering the older vampire through the wall of what was temporarily Nadya’s bedroom. To the thud of Cadence as he collides back to the floor, Isseya wrenching herself out from under dust and the upended coffee table to bear down on him in fury. “—Jax I can’t—”

“NO, Nadya! Not this time!” He shakes her roughly. “Do you understand me?! They want you, they can’t get you! Now GO!”

Nadya is turned and shoved towards the open window before she can get another word out. Adrian’s body angled towards her, reaching out the only way he can. He jerks his chin down to the knot of rope pooled at his feet. “They’ll cover us for as long as they can. Come on.”

“We can’t leave them!” Because surely if anyone—anyone—understands, it’s him.

And he does. It’s all over his face; and covered with the same resolute decision he had tried to pull on her back in the Cathedral.

“I—I know. But this…” His gaze drops down to her feet and goes wide with shock; fear. “Nadya, you’re bleeding.”

Huh? She wipes her hand over her head but it comes back dry. Nothing over her front, then she feels the trickle down the back of her leg. Looks down in horror to see the blood seeping into the carpet at her feet.

The duffel.

Her blood!

Isseya had slammed her into the wall and the collision must have broken the seals on the blood bags inside. “We can’t go without it!”

“Nadya—no—”

“Lily doesn’t stand a chance without it—and I did not go through that hell to lose her now!”

Adrian tries to grab her but catches himself at the last second — swooping one arm back under Lily before her body hits the floor. Nadya can hears him shout behind her but his words are lost in the chaos. She’s already skidding on her knees through the fallen doorway to the kitchen.

There’s no time to be squeamish now. Not even with the coppery smell hits her nostrils, bag hurled back over her shoulder and already dripping red through the nylon. Nadya grits her teeth and starts yanking the old bags out to scatter on the floor. You’ve literally held your own guts in with your bare hands, she reminds herself with bitter determination, this is for Lily—don’t forget this is for Lily.

Inside the fridge there are only a handful of bags left. She had grabbed as much as she could and look how that turned out. The rest is useless; smeared, splattered in uneven patterns over the tile around her. The cold plastic slips through her red fingers; once, twice, and with a scream of wordless noise the third time she manages to get them close enough to scoop into the bag at her feet.

“Come on… come on…” Stupid fingers stop slipping on the stupid zipper! Fuck! She has no other choice she can see, and bends down to bite hard on the metal and yank the duffel closed.

Yes! Once the bag is securely back around her Nadya scrambles to stand, to turn and run as fast as her legs will carry her back to the window and Adrian and—

And instead she collides with a vampire as solid as stone for the second time tonight.

“A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Miss.”

Nadya looks up just in time to see the last of Serafine’s attack knit closed across the curve of Antony’s cheek. He shakes it off like one might a pesky fly; all of his focus trained on the heavy hands he rests on her shoulders. “The infamous Bloodkeeper… you really are the talk of the Court. I found myself unable to pass up the opportunity to meet you in person.”

She tries to break free; even when it feels like he’s pressing her down so hard she’ll break through the floor she tries as hard as she can. But the tile is slick with blood and he’s two thousand years old and at this point she’s experienced this enough to know exactly how badly it can go.

“Can’t say the feeling’s mutual.”

Antony’s amusement falters; the barest betrayal of a frown. “I see. Best we take care of this swiftly, then.”

Before he can move the sound of a cracking neck breaks the strangely echoing silence.

“My sentiments exactly.”

Then there’s a different grip on Nadya’s wrist — people need to stop manhandling her this is getting ridiculous — and it’s tugging her to the side just in time for a blurred movement to send Antony soaring through the air and back into the interior wall.

The lights flicker once—twice—and die. The room plunged into darkness. Sparks flashing from torn wires in the hole in the wall, the electricity crackling violent and intense.

Gooseflesh prickles over her arms and Nadya holds her hands up, like that’ll defend her from anything, but no touch comes.

“Are you okay?” asks Cadence; and when her eyes adjust to the lack of light she finds him on one knee in front of her; looking over her blood-soaked clothes to see how much of it is freshly spilled. “You should have listened to R—”

The sound of shifting wood and rubble cuts him off. Antony stands from the mess with tears in his suit and a piece of his lower jaw sitting at an odd angle. He sets it with a quick twist of his neck and steps out of the heap; eyes leveling bright and red on Cadence’s face with an unfamiliar recognition.

Cadence locks with tension in front of her. She knows that reaction all too well, now. Both of them do.

“I admit none of us really believed in your miraculous return, Pathicus,” Antony muses, cracking his knuckles on each hand, rolling his shoulders; proving he can shake them off with barely a thought.

“I’ll give you cover,” hisses Cadence without turning back to look at her, “when I say run… you run.”

“But on the bright side, I’m glad for it.”

“Cade—”

“No arguments. Yes?”

“Yes.” She finally says, and only then does he let her go.

Cadence stands, feet planted and shoulders squared. Something about the sight makes Antony’s upper lip curl.

“I would have loathed not to have been there to do the deed myself.”

“You and quite a few others.”

“Seniority rules.”

Nadya swallows her heart back into her chest. It pounds so fast, so loud — she nearly misses it.

“RUN!” He shouts, moments before the heel of Antony’s palm slams into his lower jaw.

Blood splatters in droplets on the floor. Tiny little garnets that slick and smear underfoot as strength battles strength battles something else — something a little more like the will of survival.

Cadence collapses back, limbs flailing, and collides with the small kitchen table. The wood is weak, can’t bear the full brunt of his weight, and together they crash to the floor violently. The loud noise is enough to shake Nadya from her stupor and send her practically dancing back on both feet to avoid being caught in the heap.

She’s terrified. Again. That seems to be happening a lot lately.

But she doesn’t want to abandon him like this — no matter how strong his opponent is. The last time she did it hadn’t been Cadence who came back.

What if this time is the same?

Perhaps the scariest part is how human Antony’s eyes look as he swing his head around. Gaze level, watching Nadya brace herself in the middle of the doorway trying to decide whether to run forward or back, and still that same warm brown color. Not how a vampire is supposed to look, she thinks.

But this isn’t a vampire. This is… yeah she’s still trying to wrap her head around the reality of how that sentence ends. Marc Antony, the vampire.

“Shame you don’t listen very well.”

Marc Antony, the vampire; who is no longer across the room and instead right up in Nadya’s face. Who snatches a hand out and grabs her wrist hard enough to break. “I won’t say this is my favorite part. But those of us who know how the game is played… we don’t break the rules when we don’t need to.”

There’s a blur of darkness over his shoulder; movement too fast for her mortal eyes. Then Nadya cries out in surprise; sharp pain, bright white behind her eyes squeezed tightly closed, and the hold on her wrist is gone in the next instant.

Bloodied knuckles in a grip tight around a tanned throat, the wounds already healed over. The no-doubt expensive leather of Antony’s boots squeaking against the floor, trying and failing to gain his footing. But Cadence is taller and holds him aloft and pinned against the far wall with ease.

That… is Cadence, right?

Because she’s not sure. Between the safe at Persephone and the top part of the Feral’s head torn off and flying across the Manor hall and the way there’s no comparison—none at all—when Jax is backhanded hard enough to fly through the air and every warning Serafine ever screamed through her tears; she just isn’t. Countless times, all of them unmatched — and what they meant about who—or what—was actually standing in front of her now.

“C—” She tries to call out a name, but her voice freezes on which one to say. She doesn’t know.

“You know… there were more than a few times I was beaten to a pulp by Carlo’s men.” And the sheer relief when she recognizes the name from New Orleans is enough to punch the air from Nadya’s lungs; tears salty on her tongue while she cradles her wrist close.

“I was fresh from the war. Still new to this life, or so I thought. They had been in the de la Rosa family for a generation, some of them longer. Between then and now… I think I get it.”

Strands of blond hair fall thin in front of Cadence’s eyes. Nadya can see the bright red of them reflected in the backdrop of the night sky from the kitchen window. He lifts Antony higher and with no effort at all.

“I lost to those men because I expected to lose; because I thought there was no other option. I thought I was younger, so my body acted like it.” Shoulders tensing, rolling back; for the first time a flicker of concern wavers Antony’s steady frown. “Following that same logic now… I’ve got quite a few centuries on you, don’t I, domine?”

He tosses Antony aside like a doll; like he weighs nothing at all. A flick of his wrist that sends the former Roman general right in the path of the fridge. The metal catches him, cradles him; door bending inward and the contents of the shelves joining the mess on the floor. The lightbulb inside shatters under the pressure and the distant, white-noise hum of the fan splutters and dies.

But this time Antony was ready. This time he leaps back to his feet without respite and brushes the fall off of his shoulder with a flippant hand. “There’s that look. That arrogance. I prefer it this way — better a fair fight than none at all.”

Everything shifts; the air, the tension, the looks on the vampires’ faces. So fast Nadya almost misses them. Maybe she would have — were she not the Bloodkeeper. But she is, and she doesn’t miss a thing.

Because she can feel it all.

Centuries piled on in staggering weight and animosity; changing both everything and, outwardly, nothing at all. But he’s leveled the playing field now. Nadya feels it. Antony, too.

They all do.

“What… are you?”

His shoulders sink slightly, but he doesn’t turn around at the sound of Isseya’s voice. Not when it’s a whisper, and not when it’s a cracked, splintered fragment of a scream. “Answer me!”

“I don’t have an answer to give.”

“Lies.”

“If I did, I would. Everything would be so much easier on all of us.”

The vampiress steadies herself on the door frame, impressions of her fingertips pressing down and breaking the drywall.

“‘All of us,’” she repeats — like she doesn’t know the language, “meaning…”

The blond vampire looks up and Nadya’s heart stops.

It’s an opening Antony cannot and will not waste. Rushing forward, fangs bared — but even he isn’t fast enough to avoid the hand that catches him by the back of the neck. Claws piercing flesh, blood spotting along his collar. He tries to turn, to see the face that caught him by surprise, but doesn’t get the chance before the grip closes down and his neck snaps with a sickening crack.

Antony’s eyes are closed before he even makes it to the ground.

Isseya steps over his body — still a body, Nadya notices, not a pile of ash — and closes the gap between herself and Cadence. One hand with fingertips still stained with Antony’s blood comes up and strokes the cut of his jaw.

The pair share the same look; like reflections. Longing, loss, pangs of regret. After a moment, Cadence finally reaches up and presses his palm against her cheek.

“I’m not him.” He whispers hoarsely.

Together they stand still; years stretching through the passing seconds. Finally Isseya lets her eyes flutter closed. The tears clinging to her dark lashes finally get the chance to fall.

“I know.” She shudders a gasp; breathes through the daggers in her chest sharper than they were all the years before. “Consider this to be my last act of free will.”

So that’s what Valdas had meant.

There’s a shine in Cadence’s eyes. He parts his lips, looks for a moment like he’s going to do it — he’s going to tell her about the Cathedral, about what happened, about…

The moment passes when Isseya steps away.

“He won’t stay down for long, resilient bastard,” she looks over her shoulder to Antony’s unconscious form, “though I’ll admit I’ve been waiting to do that for weeks now. It’s not as satisfying as I thought it would be…”

Nadya swallows. “Is he still…?” But Isseya’s sharp look cuts her off with a flinch.

“Yes, he’s still alive. And I can’t be gone when he comes to. Not if I have any intention of returning to Valdas.”

There’s no question about it. So why does Cadence ask?

“What if you came back with us? We could —”

“No.” The sharp edges, barely easing up, are back without warning. Isseya’s glare is cold and growing all the more distant. “I wouldn’t — I couldn’t. But—neither can you.” She looks between Nadya and Cadence both. “It would be a death sentence, and would make this, here, look like a kindness. Surely you know by now.”

“Nadya!”

Shit.

The anger in Jax’s growl breaks any spell that might have held them all there — maybe for eternity if they weren’t careful. Nadya dashes back into the living room and gasps, hand coming over her mouth, at the mess of mangled bruises and gaping wounds riddled across Serafine’s body.

Jax is kneeling at her side; looks up just in time to push every ounce of his frustration in one long look, before he jerks his chin up at her.

“The blood. Now.”

Nadya struggles to pull it over her head fast enough, skidding to her knees beside Jax in time for him to grab it and rip the zip apart with brute strength. He grabs one bag and forces it into her mouth; thankfully it doesn’t take much more than that for her survival instinct to kick in and fangs to descend and tear the plastic open. She takes several long drinks before her hands have the strength to grab on; reaching desperately for the second and tearing it from Jax’s grip without hesitating.

His sigh is weak, croaked and now without effort. With tentative fingers Nadya reaches up and brushes away some of his hair matted at his temple where a cut still oozes thin blood. There’s one blood bag left — she doesn’t think twice before all but forcing it into his hand.

“You too,” she insists — thankfully for them both he’s too exhausted and weak to decline.

It’s not much between the pair of them. Enough to stop the bleeding and fade most of their bruises to mottled greens and yellows but not much more. Nadya would offer her wrist, neck, ankle up to help any more if she could but she still has a few wounds of her own and her wrist is most likely very broken and not at all palatable.

Serafine slowly comes to, French mumbled and thick on her tongue as she tries to take in her surroundings. “Ad…ri…”

“He’s fine,” Nadya says — and throws a look to the window and the rope still draped over and out, “he got away. He’s safe, probably heading to the meetup point. Take it easy, you’re still healing… but…”

But she hesitates because saying anything more would be akin to lying.

Jax eases himself up with grunts of effort; helps Serafine do the same only when he’s steady on both feet. “If you think this is gonna go undiscussed, Nadya, I swear to god…”

“If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have anything to heal with, so I don’t wanna hear it.”

“If you hadn’t—”

Cadence and Isseya shuffle out of the kitchen together and Jax practically bites off his own tongue, cutting himself off. Nadya can feel Serafine grow stony behind her and reaches out in a meek attempt at reassurance.

“What are you idiots still doing here?” Isseya snaps. Looks briefly like she has much more to add to it but she bites her tongue instead. “You are weak, and ill-fed, and need to leave. Neither Antony nor I are gravely injured. If you’re still here when he wakes up, you’re fucked.”

“What’s going on here?” Jax snarls, but the question is aimed principally at Cadence.

“She’s giving us an opening. We need to take it.”

“She came here to kidnap Nadya!”

“No, Jax, he’s right.” Nadya doesn’t smile at the vampiress — after all the pain she’s felt at the hands of this woman she doubts she ever could. But they aren’t in any position to be looking gift horses in the mouth. “I don’t trust her, but…” The look she gives him is imploring.

What other choice to do we have right now?

“This is bull —” Jax stares at each of them in disbelief. “— this is insane! We’re not trusting her. And we’re not running. We get Adrian and Lily and we get on the first plane home. I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m taking the fight to him.”

“Returning to New York is no longer an option.” Isseya meets the rebel’s glare with her own.

“I beg your fuckin’ pardon?”

The Trinity vampire sweeps a long look over them, the furrow in her brow slowly easing from disgust into… disbelief?

Raw, unfiltered disbelief at that. “You don’t know.”

“We’ve been… not here.”

“Obviously.” And both Jax and Serafine look ready to shoot down any questions she might ask, but Isseya surprises them both — she doesn’t. “Otherwise it would not have been so easy to find you, I see now. If you had known what happened… only the suicidal would have stayed somewhere he knew to find you.”

Cadence stands hunched, eyes trained down at his shoes and the bloodstains in the carpet. She’s already told him what she keeps withholding from them — awesome.

“What do you mean… what happened?” asks Nadya warily. No one else does.

“Three days ago, the last of the resisting faction was captured at the harbor. The ones you called your Clans — those who did not immediately bend the knee. I wasn’t there myself, but there were thirty, maybe forty left who were captured and taken before the Godmaker at his Court. Those who swore fealty to him were allowed to live. Those who did not…”

Her words are left hanging, but it’s not exactly hard for them to fill in. Just like it isn’t hard for Nadya to know she’s full of bullcrap — she has to be. No, really, she has to be. Because if she isn’t, that means…

That means…

“Enough of this. Go—run—hide wherever you can for as long as you can. But do not dare show your face back on his shores. He wants the Bloodkeeper,” she nods to Nadya, “he would not say why, but I don’t dare to guess. Whatever you must do, do it. But he cannot have her.”

“Tell me you’re not believing this,” mutters Jax under his breath, and from the looks of it he fully expects Serafine to take his side. Only… she doesn’t.

“Maybe not everything… but I know better than to think she would be so willing to send him to his death.” Cadence shifts under the scrutiny of the woman’s glare. Isseya, however, doesn’t seem all too perturbed by it.

“If he comes with us, we will at least be safe long enough to regroup.”

Three days ago… Because Nadya still hasn’t quite let that part go. How could they?

“Allez, Nadya, allez.” Serafine keeps a firm hand at her back, all but shoving her towards the window and the rope to freedom(?)

Instead she digs in her heels and tries to look back to Isseya, who lingers one last look at Cadence’s back before she makes for the kitchen.

“Isseya!” She calls, but goes ignored. “Isseya, wait! What happened to those who didn’t join Gaius?”

“Help me,” growls Serafine, then there’s another pair of hands helping urge Nadya out into the night.

“Isseya!”

“Nadya — stop.”

“No—shut up! Isseya! Tell me what happened!”

The shadows of the apartment swallow her up before Nadya can get her answer.

“We have to go back.”

“No, Nadya.”

“No—she needs to tell me what happened—”

“I’m sorry.”

Jax has never apologized to her before. Not even when they were facing an army of Ferals. He shouldn’t be apologizing now.

“Jax… she…”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and pulls her into a one-armed embrace for safety before he begins the rappel, “I’m so sorry.”

“…No…”

He holds her tight and kicks off. Serafine and Cadence keep pace on either side; agile movements down rails and pipes towards the rapidly approaching ground.

Without another word they disappear into the night.

#bloodbound fanfiction #choices fanfiction #kamilah x mc #adrian raines #jax matsuo #lily spencer #serafine dupont #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #oc: cadence smith #oc: isseya #marc antony #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

Flying Lessons (2)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: You and Cal make Greez fulfill a promise that he has made—teaching the pair of you to pilot a real ship.

Previous: Part 1 | Next: Part 3 - End | Masterlist

2 of ?

The group was split into two. Cal was with Greez, while you were with Maz. Although separated, the enthusiasm between the two of you was so strong that not even the metal walls of the ships could bar it.

“Is there much of a difference between piloting a shuttle and a freighter?” you inquired.

“There’s not much big difference between the two; add the Mantis to the list, it may be a luxury yacht but it’s pretty much the same as any other transport.”

Maz gestures the pilot seat to you while she hops on the co-pilot seat. Turning on the power grid was easy enough, but when the engine made the ship—and yourself—rumble. When the ship had calmed down, you slowly bring your hands to the steering wheel; Maz assisted you in preparing the ship for takeoff.

Meanwhile, Cal was acting purely on his scrapper’s stock knowledge and his observations from Greez’s piloting. He’s already revved up the ship for takeoff.

So far, so good this kid. Greez thought as he watches Cal man the wheel.

The two shuttles gradually hoisted themselves from the ground, blowing away the shrubs and sending leaves flying. It took a good minute before the two of you have gotten higher than the treelines, you steered to the left, away from Cal and he took the direction opposite you.

“Learning how to steer is for babies—do you want me to teach you how to maneuver this thing?” Maz invitingly asked.

“Yes please!” you chirped.

Maz verbally taught you the maneuvers—starting from the basics, which shortly evolved to more risqué moves that she personally does on a regular basis: sharp turns, vertical flips, and even spinning! Luckily for her, you were a fast learner, catching on really quick with operating the buttons and levers while piloting the thing at the same time.

“You’re a natural!” she encouraged. “Are you sure you’ve never flown by yourself?”

“No!” you laughed. “The Jedi Purge happened before I could even sit in a Jedi Starfighter!”

The adrenaline coursed wildly in your veins as you flew the ship fifteen feet above the tree canopies. You followed Maz’s instructions to a tee.

“Does this thing have cannons?”

“Those buttons just above your thumb,” Maz pointed.

You found the buttons and let your thumbs hover over them, you looked for a good target to practice it on. You sank your thumbs onto the buttons, releasing a triad of blue projectiles the moment the button clicked. The laser cannon shaved off the top of a tree that you targeted using the aiming screen on the dashboard.

The excitement increased tenfold when you saw the part of the tree fall off and disappear into the emerald green bed of tree canopies.

The cannon sped past Cal and Greez’s periphery until they caught sight of the treetop that you just fired it on.

“Oh my God, I just did that!” you exclaimed.

“Good shot!” Maz commended, bursting in laughter at the same time.

After that display, Maz gave another round of techniques and taught you how to maneuver a ship into different altitudes smoothly while doing so in small windows of time; she argued that it works best as an evasive technique to easily shake off enemies in hot pursuit.

She could see that you were enjoying the flying lessons, smiling ear-to-ear as you steer the ship in all directions, bellowing in laughter whenever you feel the gravity leave a feeling in your stomach as you fly lower from a high height.

“Well, I guess she found the cannons.” Cal nonchalantly blurted.

In a split second, Cal immediately spotted the trigger of the cannon sitting atop of the handlebars of the steering wheel. The placement was inviting, his thumbs crawled a little upward with only his fingertips resting at the sides of the buttons.

Cal saw you flying low, the tips of the shuttle’s wings leaving trails of white foam as you flew above the lake and then he watched your shuttle pull up to his altitude.

“Okay, think you can fly any higher?”

Little did Greez know he was about to regret asking that question to Cal.

“Let’s see about that!”

Cal indeed pulled up, gravity forced him and his Lateron co-pilot to sink back into the upholstery of their seats as the shuttle rose. From his windshield, the thrusters of your shuttle looked like red stars given the distance that you’ve flown away from him.

“I am never asking a question like that to you ever again!” Greez gasped as soon as Cal straightened the ship. “But I gotta give it to you—that was a good pull-up.”

You eventually managed to connect your transmitter with Cal’s shuttle. Your signal’s static crackled for a few minutes before you audio became coherent.

“Hello there!” your voice popped through the comms.

Cal made quick work on rebooting and configuring the communication transmitter on his dashboard. His fingers dexterously flicked a series of switches and crunched some buttons to get his comms working.

“Fancy talking to you here,” he responded. “Good shot back there!”

He can hear the faintness of your chuckle through the speakers.

“Thanks. Looks like you’re not a bad pilot yourself,” he smirked.

“You too, how’s Greez holding up with your flying style?”

“Oh,” he and Greez exchanged contrasting glances. “He’s holding up pretty well!”

Your laugh came through the speaker, you could imagine Greez clinging onto dear life with his two sets of arms.

Cal saw your shuttle speeding past him, he could make out the trick you were trying to do—it was an old starfighter flying trick in which the pilot maneuvers into a wide curve, speeds for a few miles to gain momentum and then immediately pull up.

“What are you up to now, [y/n]?” he muttered under his breath, watching your formation.

Cal wasn’t sure whether you were doing this on your own free will, if Maz enabled you to do this, or she was helping you.

“Whoa, hey, hey! What are you doing, kid!? She’s not steering away any time soon! Why are you still going forward?! PULL UP OR STEER CLEAR!!!”

Out of complete instinct, he pulled up almost at the same time as you did. Both of you were speeding through the sky—in your respective cockpits, you two were grinning and somehow, laughing it off became your initial reaction to the adrenaline and excitement taking over your bodies.

The shuttles were beginning to gain altitude, and when the time was right—the shuttles performed a vertical flip, curving away from each other until they were back in position.

“How did you know that I was gonna do that!?” you howled through the comm.

“You’re not the only one spending their time in the flying simulations back at the Jedi Temple!”

You grinned at his response, fully impressed. The flying lessons were slowly becoming a friendly competition of sorts whether to see who was the better rookie pilot, who knew the tricks, or who flies faster.

“Can you guys have your little race when I’m not sitting with you in here?!” Greez exclaimed, his intention was to plead to Cal but he was wrought with panic that he can’t help but shout everything he says.

Cal apologized for his daredevil-esque way of flying that somehow terrified Greez. The Lateron leaned forward and contacted you via the comms.

“I think you two had enough flying lessons today! I don’t even think you two needed us to teach you!”

“So, who wins in this score between you and Maz? I thought we were finding out who was the better pilot and instructor,”

Greez stammered again, you caught him there, and Maz was generous enough to let the score slide—for now.

“Come on, let’s land these two bucket of bolts back at the clearing,” Maz spoke through your shuttle’s comms.

You and Cal safely landed the shuttles in the forest clearing exactly where you found them. The shuttles gave a single quake when the landing gears have touched the soil. Cal leaned against the pilot’s seat and raked his scarlet hair back.

“Well, that went well.” He confidently blurted, to which Greez shot a quizzical look as a response.

“Geez, you two kids are crazy!” Greez exclaimed and eagerly hopped off his seat. “I need a drink. On second thought, I think I need to lie down.”

He waddled out of the ship while Cal remained. From the windshield, he watched you and Maz exit the shuttle. You bent down to Maz’s level, she gave you a pat on the shoulder before marching off back to the castle with Greez. You spotted Cal watching you from his ship’s windshield and started walking towards it.

Cal promptly stood up to meet you halfway outside the ship. The two of you ran to each other, the excitement still fresh in your minds.

“That was some awesome flying!”

“How did you do that?”

“You blasted a tree clean off its trunk!”

“You knew my move and copied it right off the bat!”

Your chatter overlapped with one another that not even BD-1 could catch up and understand a word either of you are saying. When you tried to compose yourselves, both of you were just flicking thumbs awkwardly at one another, gesturing who can finally talk first.

Cal cleared his throat, finally taking the initiative.

“Awesome flying,” he said as calmly as he could while hiding the color flushing in his cheeks.

“Thanks. You were awesome too,”

The two of you started hiking back to the castle, taking the back door route, and rejoining the others back at the bar.

You were greeted by Cere’s warm smile.

“Well, how was it?”

“Pretty great!”

You and Cal did the honor of narrating everything that went down during the flying lesson, Cere eventually admitted that she and Merrin went out and watched your little flying show. The two ladies were impressed with your flying skills, given that you and Cal are still rookies at this point. The conversation became more animated over drinks that Maz has on the house, laughter and jokes were told in the playful banter among friends.

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clintbartonswife · 5 years

Text

Archer’s Luck

Pairings: Clint Barton x Bucky Barnes, Steve x Sam if you squint Summary: Fallen from his perch and impaled by one of his own arrows, Clint would say that his day isn’t going too greatly. @whumptober2019 #23 : Bleeding out Warning: clint’s a gay disaster, mutual pining masterlist || whumptober masterpost

“Aw, gravity no”

Clint’s day has been pretty shitty even if he did say so himself.

To start with, he had fallen asleep with his hearing aids in, leaving his ears feeling gammy and slightly sore and he didn’t even have any coffee in his apartment when he woke up, leaving him in a grouchy mood.

Then while he was getting dressed to go get coffee he got a call from Nat telling him to come into the tower, meaning he didn't even have time to run to the shitty coffee shop down the street because Nat would know, and Clint didn't need to deal with that today. He knew how to pick his battles.

So, when Clint turns up to the Tower, coffee deprived and aching for sleep, who else would he run into but Bucky fucking Barnes wearing the sweater that makes Clint drool. Needless to say, he gets shouted at during the briefing for not paying attention (and receives multiple knowing smirks from Natasha, who by now was making Clint rethink their whole friendship) and is in an even worse mood by the time they’re set to jet off.

When Clint has a few spare minutes to get coffee, he gets distracted again by Bucky who decided that now would be a good time to do some pre-game stretches that send Clint’s mind down a very dirty hole which make him a little uncomfortable in the tight trousers of his uniform.

Clint gets on the jet without his damn coffee and sends Nat a glare as she snorts at his predicament, muttering under his breath about Bucky and ‘his stupid Adonis body’.

Of course the mission wouldn't have gone any better. Within the first few minutes he had already stubbed his toe on the side of a building (definitely not because he was distracted by Bucky putting his hair into a bun) and got hot in the shin by a flying piece of shrapnel.

Then there was the matter of climbing the 12 flights of stairs in the apartment building to get to his vantage point on the roof because Tony and Sam were ‘too busy to carry his fat ass up to the top and he could probably use the cardio anyway’. Clint had just flipped them both off before beginning the run up the stairs, scowling as he positioned himself on the roof.

From then on he got into his mission groove, hitting every shot and covering everyone’s six. That is, until a group of hostiles on the ground lock onto him, getting a lucky shot that destroys the piece of brickwork that he was standing on which sends him tumbling to the ground below.

Whilst falling from the incredibly tall height, Clint realises exactly 3 things.

One: the arrow he had been about to shoot had become dislodged from his bow and buried itself in Clint’s side and it hurt like hell.

Two: his eyes seemed to have locked onto Bucky as he fell, watching as the man scrambled from his position to try and catch him. Clint was also vaguely aware of him shouting into his earpiece, something along the lines of ‘useless tin can’

Three: Clint still hadn’t had his fucking coffee.

Bucky had been having a generally good day which, for him, was an incredible feat in itself.

He had 5 hours sleep, untainted by nightmares, meaning that Steve slept through the whole night and gave him one of his ‘proud dad smiles’ that made him feel warm inside.

His favourite cereal was restocked in the kitchen, Sam was out with a friend and the floor was peaceful and quiet.

Then the alarm sounded for a mission, which would normally be a bad thing, but Natasha had called in Clint. That man had been the centre of Bucky’s affections for months, his clumsy nature never failing to lighten up his days.

He should’ve felt suspicious at how well everything was going - god forbid things go well for Bucky Barnes - because of course Clint decides today would be a good day to fall of a fucking roof.

“Tony, you useless tin can! Catch him” he shouted, finishing off the hostile he was fighting before rushing over to the building.

“Barnes I cant -“

“Fucking hell Stark!”

Bucky held back a scream as he watched Clint’s body hit the concrete with a heavy smack, instead speeding up, falling to his knees beside him.

“Clint - Clint” Bucky urged, hands falling on his arms, turning him on his back so that the arrow wasn’t digging into him any deeper, “c’mon”

The blond groaned, head turning to the side jerkily.

“Aw, gravity, no”

Bucky let out a wet laugh, putting pressure on the wound, trying to stem the blood that was gushing out of the hole in his side.

“You’re an idiot Clint”

“You flatter me Buck” he smiled weakly, eyes locking on to his face, “Wait - why are you crying?”

“I’m not”

“Yeah - your eyes are wet” Clint protested, hand reaching up to wipe the tears from his face, “stop it. Y’face is too pretty to cry”

Bucky felt a blush creep up his neck, the slightly slurred compliment surprising him.

“I think you might’ve hit your head”

“No, no. I didn’ get m’ coffee today, ‘s why ‘m tired” Clint explained earnestly, “I was gonna but y’ distract’d me with y’ stretches”

Tony took that time to appear, snorting at Clint’s confession.

“Well, that’s one way to confess his love I guess”

“What?”

“Oh come on Barnes, you two have been tiptoeing around that for months. Now move so I can get him to medical”

Bucky just stood back, hands slick with Clint’s blood, mind racing with this new information.

He was fucked.

Apparently falling from a roof is enough reason to be shouted at by an angry Natasha Romanoff.

“- third time this year Clint! I swear to god I’ll make you wear a parachute next time we go on a mission -“

Bucky had been sat outside the hospital room for a few hours, not wanting to intrude on the best friends while they were talking (well - Nat was shouting and Clint was forced to listen), waiting for an opportunity to talk to the archer.

Tony’s previous comment had been plaguing him ever since, distracting him for the rest of the battle, so much so that Steve had thought he’d been activated again and almost punched him.

Bucky felt nervous. Honest to god, pit in your stomach, nervous. Which, for a tortured assassin of 70 years, sounds absolutely ridiculous. Yet the idea of voicing his feelings to Clint made him want to run back to Russia and hide for years.

He had told Steve this (after a lot of very concerned questions from the man) and had just received a hearty laugh and pat on the back, which didn’t help him in the slightest. Sam had overheard and snorted, muttering something about ‘emotionally stunted supersoldiers’, though he felt like that wasn’t entirely aimed at him.

The shouting had finally stopped, door swinging open to reveal Nat in all her angry glory. She nodded curtly to Bucky before walking away, jaw clenched and eyes misty.

“You gonna come in or not?” Clint called, “I could use the company”

Bucky huffed a laugh, hauling himself off of the chair and into the room, eyes immediately dragging over his body for any injuries he might have missed earlier.

“You scared us today” he said, eyes finally landing on Clint’s face, “falling like that. You said some interesting stuff though”

A faint blush coloured Clint’s cheeks, “Oh yeah? What did I say that was so interesting”

Bucky felt a surge of confidence at Clint’s embarrassment, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he leaned against the hospital bed.

“Oh, you know, you called me pretty and - what was it again - oh yeah! My stretches were distracting”

A small wounded noise escaped from the man, the blush spreading down his neck as he avoided eye contact.

“Are you sure I said that?”

“Yep” Bucky grinned, his reaction giving him the final push he needed, “question is: did you mean it?”

Taking a deep breath, Bucky moved so that he was near Clint’s head, leaning down so that their lips were brushing.

“So, tell me Barton” he said, voice low, “am I reading this right?”

No words were needed as Clint lifted his head up slightly, connecting their lips in a soft kiss. A small noise escaping the back of Bucky’s throat as Clint’s hands tangled in to his hair, pulling slightly on the silky strands.

“Fuck” Clint murmured as they pulled apart, lips swollen, “About time you did that Buck”

Bucky laughed, pressing another quick kiss to his lips, before resting their foreheads against each other.

“No fucking in the hospital beds! Rogers, your boy should know better”

“Leave them alone Tony, they’re having a moment”

“You’re not the one who’ll have to pay the dry cleaning bill-“

________________________________________________________________

Tags: @xxloki81xx @geeksareunique @bangtan-serendipity

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justallamaimaginingthings · 5 years

Text

Trapped [Harry Strickland x Reader]

Requests: "Hiya! Can you write a steamy imagine with Captain Harry Strickland?" by anonymous and "I’m still shook from the last episode of GOT and slightly mad at the wasted potential of the gorgeous man known as Captain Harry Strickland. So can you write a steamy imagine where the reader and Harry see each other at King’s Landing and are instantly attracted to one another and have a short but passionate affair. It would make me feel better lol" by anonymous

A/n: He had so little screen time I wasn't sure how to deal with his character. I realy hope you like it and sorry for the delay, like I've said before, exams are being a huge pain in the ass. Also, I may write another one for the second request, depends on the response to this one.

Words: 1300 || GoT Masterlist

Having lived in King's Landing long enough to see it fall under siege twice under the rule of two different kings, you had realized it was about time you learned to defend yourself and your youngest sister, Elyse. It took a lot of time but after years of practice and a whole lot of physical pain, you had reached a very satisfying level of swordsmanship, which came in handy during the Battle of King's Landing.

It wasn't that you were willing to fight for Cersei Lannister, on the contrary you despised the woman and everything she stood for. However, the moment that dragon attacked the city you instantly whose side you were on, people's. Grabbing your sword you rushed to the streets, trying to help any women and children make their way out of the burning city.

"Follow me, this way" you yelled in an attempt to be heard over the deafening screams of the battle. Leading the small group of people to an opening in the street, a piercing cry came from the next road "Stay here" you advised Elyse running off.

"Help, someone please" a woman screamed again right before a northern soldier pushed her into the ground, tearing half her dress off in the process. Without hesitating you sprinted towards the couple just in time to block the would-be fatal blow towards the woman. The man's eyes snapped at you when he realized your presence, while the woman took that chance to run off.

"Bitch" he growled before lunging at you. You managed to avoid his blow by ducking and used the opportunity to kick him in the chest, but he held his balance due to his much larger size. Swinging again he aimed for your head but this time you successfully blocked him. The fight carried on for a while and you would have won if three other men hadn't appeared. The moment you spotted them, your eyes widened in shock.

Managing to push your original attacked to the ground, you knocked him out right before the other three attacked. Seeing that you were outnumbered and overpowered by the soldiers, you knew the chances were not on your favor, but you refused to give up. Just when you managed to disarm one of them while fending off the second, the third had sneaked behind you, ready to deliver a mortal blow when a sword pierced through him.

Turning around, you took a moment your unexpected savior in the golden armor, signifying he was a member of the infamous Golden Company, queen Cersei had hired to defend the city. You were about to thank the man when the last northerner soldier went for another attack, causing you to avoid his hit before plunging your sword into his chest. The golden armored man gave you an impressed look seemingly taken aback by your technique.

"Watch out" you yelled upon noticing the ceiling starting to collapse from above him, as you pulled the man towards you. He avoided being hit by the fallen bricks, but your harsh movement resulted in the both of you losing your balance and ending up on the ground.

"Thank you" the man said, turning to look at you only to realize your faces were actually nothing more than mere inches apart. Instead of moving away, the man took that chance to actually observe you. Seeing a woman wield a sword in such confidence was extremely rare and the Captain wanted to know more about you. What really captured his attention, though, was the fierceness hidden in your eyes and the striking beauty of your intense features.

"I should be the one thanking you…" you trailed off wanting to know his name. In spite of not being willing to admit it, your breath slightly hitched the moment your eyes met his green ones. There was no denying the man in front of you, or to be exact the man on top of you, was attractive with his piercing emerald eyes and sharp cheek bones.

"Harry Strickland" he introduced himself before realizing the situation the two of you were in and quickly getting up. Extending his hand towards you, Harry gently helped you up.

"Y/n Waters" you replied. Without another word you moved past him in order to inspect the gravity of the damage done by the collapsed ceiling, even attempting to move some of the bricks without getting any result "Well, Ser Harry Strickland I guess we will have plenty of time to get to know each other since this wall will take a lot more than the two of us to be moved" you declared sighting in defeat. Standing there and waiting for the battle to be over so that you could be saved was the exact thing you were wishing to avoid.

"If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it, my Lady" he responded smoothly taking you by surprise, a pleasant one to be precise. There you were, in the middle of the worst fight of your life and he wanted to flirt.

"I may be a lot of things, but a Lady is definitely not one of them" you explained while giving him a sideway smirk awaiting his response.

"But you surely possess the grace of one" he said mirroring the challenging smirk. You were about to reply when he took a step towards you, eyes focused on something "You are hurt" he said prompting your hand to lift up to your face, tracing the small cut that had formed right next to your lip.

"It's a mere scratch" you tried to brush it off. However, he used his gloved hand to gently caress the outline, wiping away any remaining blood. Slowly, his touch trailed down to your lips causing your heartbeat to speed up. Looking into his eyes, you found nothing but desire which only prompting a sight to leave your lips.

Taking another step backwards he pulled you with his, as your back hit the cold hard wall. Searching your look for any sign of hesitation, he found none. His hand ghosted over your lips once more resulting in a shiver rushing down your spine. Upon noticing him glance down on your lips, you decided to take matters into your own hands as you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down on you, crashing your lips to his.

The kiss was rough as you both fought for dominance as you ended up giving in the moment his arms wrapped around your waist. Your hands made their way to his short hair, gently tugging at his dirty blond locks which caused him to groan in return. However, the smug smile that formed on your lips was short lived as his hands moved lower down to your hips

"Jump" he whispered into your lips and you couldn’t help following his order as he held you up while pushing you harder against the wall making the contrast between the stone cold material and his warm body even more prominent. Wrapping your legs around him, he started leaving a trail of burning kisses down your throat.

Maybe you were acting on impulse, but there was something capturing about that man you simply couldn't refuse. And you weren't willing to try to anyways…

A/n: There's a musical reference hidden in there, an internet cookie goes to all of you who spot it

#harry strickland #harry strickland imagine #harry strickland x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #got imagine #got x reader #got #got season 8 #got s8

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spongeekat · 5 years

Text

The 6 Times Peter Wanted To Reveal his Identity (And the 1 Time He Did) Chapter 4

read on ao3

Masterlist Here

Day 4- Wednesday

God, please help me.

Peter was going to faint, he decided, as he made a sharp turn through a set of trees that nearly sent him tumbling to the ground. He barely caught himself on a low branch, his wrist locking up, and he used gravity to swing up back into the air. His stomach lurched painfully as he landed on the post of a fence, his head feeling suddenly light and the world spinning too quickly. His body went on auto-pilot and he flipped up into the next backyard, towards the tree with the thickest trunk and widest spread of leaves, which would offer the most coverage. Peter didn’t know where he was. He hadn’t been conscious enough in his own mind to map out a route. Anxiety had taken over in the last stretch of his fight, and mid-panic attack he had realized he’d taken off running. Last he remembered, he was in the heart of Manhattan. Now, he was probably on the outskirts of Queens, south of where he lived.

His fingers pried open the first shelter he found, that currently being the wooden windows of a tree-house tucked into the canopy of the oak. It was already day-break, and Peter couldn’t make it home leaping through the suburbs when he was hardly able to see through his panicked fit. So he pulled himself inside, tumbling against the floorboards, and crawled up against the wall of the tree house. Trembling hands desperately pulled off his spandex mask and threw as far from him as it could fly, falling pathetically to the floor, the fabric not even making a sound. Even without the cover over his mouth, he still felt as if he wasn’t able to take in a solid breath, his lungs screaming for air and spasming as if they were flooding with fire. This wasn’t good. He was definitely going to pass out if he didn’t calm his erratic gasps.

But maybe that would be better than the memory of a lifeless body sitting heavily on his palms.

His patrol the night before had started out quietly. Bad guys, apparently, were also weak to the freezing temperatures, as told by empty streets and a lack of cries for help. Peter had spent half his time lazily resting on an apartment awning, watching a late-night showing of George Lopez playing on the TV across the way. The other half he was swinging through the city to stay warm, practicing parkour tricks off of roof tops that left him sinking dangerously low towards the pavement before he caught his fall and sent himself free-flying again.

His shenanigans had been cut off early, however, by a terrifying screech from downtown that left his spidey senses painfully coursing up his spine. Instincts made him change his course in a split second, twisting to aim his webbing towards the east. Midtown started to come into view, along with a fire blazing black and orange against the bright billboards littering times square. Once he had turned the corner, he instantly figured out the source of the noise. In the center of the block was a human-sized rat… or more like a bald man with a rat appearance. Either way, he had been cornering a petrified couple in the doorway of a closed store, the woman attempting to rip open the locked door and screaming for help as the man tried to dislodge his bleeding arm from the rat’s mouth, teeth locked into the flesh. Passersby and locals were struggling to help, pulling and ripping at the rat-man to get him off. Their attempts were futile, however, as the rat man bit harder and his victim screamed in pain. Peter wasted no time assessing the scene; he didn’t have the luxury of figuring out a strategy before he was diving in to help. His fingers dug into the mouth of the monster and yanked his jaw open, releasing the arm, before Peter flipped away and smashed the rat’s head into the ground. He was surprised to find the monster was really strong, almost comparably so to Peter. The rat elbowed the air out of his lungs within a second of his knees hitting the pavement, forcing him to roll off to the side to recover against the blow.

“ Cossssstume can’t hurt Vermin.” The rat, apparently named Vermin, possessed a haunting voice, and his confidence jarred Peter for only a moment. But the mask was there to always give Peter a brave profile, so he didn’t let it show. “ Vermin is not here alone. Vermin will feed on thissssss ssssscity.”

Peter felt the familiar sense of dread running up his body, he turned to the pedestrians gaping at the monster invading their neighborhood, his hands held out warningly. “Don’t watch! Go home! It’s dangerous!”

But his warnings were disregarded. Screams erupted when a manhole burst open, a copy of Vermin crawling out onto the pavement. It was similar in appearance but different in stature, and that made Peter more nervous than any clone would have. 3 more slithered up onto the surface of the street, beady eyes focusing on the onlookers with a hunger that only meant the worst. Only then did people apparently take that as their cue to run, and the mob of rats were immediately in pace behind them.

Peter, luckily, had faster reactions than the crowd.

His webs attached to the backs of quickest monsters, his heels digging into the road with all his strength. They snapped to a halt, and then Peter shot more webbing to anchor their feet to the ground. He used the two as walls and slingshotted himself towards the escaping half of the group who were snapping their jaws at the fleeing men and women. He swung his foot with full force into the head of the leader of the pack, rebounding off of it and wrestling another monster to the floor. He didn’t have time to web either, having to focus instead on the last of the rats. Its claws wrapped around the torso of the slowest woman who had her child in tow, a scream tearing through her throat. The young child, in an act of bravery, had started battering his fists into the rat’s side, distracting it long enough to save his mother’s throat from being ripped open by mangled teeth. However, it also meant the rat turned its attention to the boy, and within a second a strong arm smacked against his chin and sent him flying into a brick wall. The sickening crack that followed had the mother screaming bloody murder, and Peter had just barely made it in time to save her life.

The fight that followed was a blur. Peter remembered snapping the arms of the rat until he released the woman who had passed out in panic. He remembered laying hard punches into the monster’s face, and vaguely remembered feeling the full weight of the two rats he’d had to abandon launching at him from behind and knocking him to the floor. Somewhere between him being unable to breathe and thrashing for his life, an arrow sunk into the shoulder of the bigger creature. It squeaked in pain, and Peter took the chance to throw it off before setting into the other one. A loud thunk landed beside Peter, and as he looked up, he came face to face with a red, metallic exoskeleton. Beside him was a familiar archer not even looking his way, focused on shooting the monsters off to their right.

“How did I know following trouble would lead us to you?” The robotic voice of Tony Stark commented. Peter jumped off the crumpled body, and small mechanisms shot out of the Iron Man suit, trapping the rat against the ground. “Need help? Again?”

The words stung, but Peter grunted, another concern more pressing than being insulted by Iron Man or saved by Hawkeye. He sprinted over to where the child was still collapsed against the bricks, his eyelids shut and his lips slack. Peter lifted his body carefully, his limbs lifeless and non responsive. He listened intently for breathing, his own heart pounding louder in his ears than any other city noise. And then he saw it, a small movement of his chest, which meant he was still alive. Sirens were growing closer, and the ambulance would be there soon. The brave kid had a chance to survive.

The relief didn’t last long. A tingle up Peter’s neck told him there was a fist growing closer to the back of his head. He twisted his body out of the way, the angry expression of the newly conscious woman meeting his gaze.

“Some fucking hero you are!” She sobbed as she grabbed her son forcefully, Peter releasing him without fight. He backed off, rising to his feet, and only managed to watch her grief as the mother hugged her son in close to her chest. “He’s only 8! He has a spelling bee tomorrow! Why didn’t you save him ?!”

Everyone was staring. Peter felt his breathing picking up dangerously fast, and he had no words.

He should have been stronger. He should have gotten here faster. Why wasn’t he strong enough to save him? He wished he had a good answer.

“Ben, sweetie, it’s mommy. You’re okay. You’re okay. Can you look up at me?” When there was no movement to signify he had even heard his mom’s voice, she let out a horrible scream of pain that was more haunting than all of the villains Peter had faced combined. It echoed into his core, tightened in his chest, and before he knew it he was struggling to even take a proper breath.

“Hey, kid, calm down.” Someone was talking to him in a soft voice, a whisper over the roaring of guilt wailing at him. Following the hand on his shoulder, he found Hawkeye staring at him with pity. “It’s not your fault. An ambulance will be here soon. You did all you could.”

Peter wanted to tell him to fuck off, to take a look at what he had done- or what he wasn’t capable enough to prevent- but his throat was too tight to speak more than a few words. He pushed away the hand, his heartbroken voice only loud enough for Clint to hear. “H-His name is Ben, too.”

His legs moved on their own, dragging him away from the horrible sight in whatever direction offered the tallest buildings and the easiest getaway route. Eventually the city grew unfamiliar, blurred out in the background of his peripheral vision. Colors began to meld, breaths were coming out too close together to properly tell them apart, and his entire body was aching. He hadn’t stopped moving for 45 minutes, not even when his arms screamed for a break or the buildings grew shorter and he had to resort to flipping between roofs or propelling himself up gates. And he had ended up here, in this borrowed hide-out with it’s now tear soaked wooden planks, his hand desperately clutching his chest as if he had the power to rip the pain right out of his heart. Eventually he wasn’t able to suppress the anguish any longer, and sobs started to wrack his body, shaking him to the core. Tremoring, he drew his knees up to his chest and buried his head between them, muting his whimpers and hics. The last thing he needed now was to feel so completely pathetic, but each time he thought he had started to relax, another splash of anxiety rose and pushed more tears from the corners of his eyes.

The only thing that startled him from his fit was the voice of a small girl, like a hot knife digging into his stomach.

“Spider-Man?”

Peter’s face jerked up, his raw eyes meeting the timidly amazed ones of a girl small enough to stand in the tree-house, probably about 6. Her knuckles were white from holding on so tightly to the ladder to keep herself upright, and he couldn’t help but wonder how long she had been standing there. But before he even had the chance to worry about that, reality slapped him in the cheek when he realized his mask was behind her in the corner of the tree house where he had discarded it.

His lips opened to speak and deny it, but a shuddering breath forced its way up his throat and he promptly shut his mouth.

“Spider-Man, are you okay?” The young girl asked, taking his silence as permission to climb inside the cramped space. He flattened himself up against the wall, splinters digging through his suit, to maintain the distance between them. Her black curls bounced against her cheek bones, a concerned expression searching his red face. “Why were you crying?”

Peter swallowed the knot in his throat, the palm of his hand scrubbing away some of the moisture on his cheeks. “I-I um..” He was a hero. He didn’t know what this girl thought of him, or what her parents might have said about him, but the fact didn’t change that he knew kids needed strong heroes for the days they weren’t strong enough to handle things themselves.He wasn’t able to be that if he was a stuttering mess. “I had a hard night. Some people got hurt, and I had to get help to save them. It just made me sad.” His voice was a little stronger, a little more confident, but he wasn’t able to erase the grief hidden behind his words.

The girl nodded slowly.. “The bad guys made you cry?”

Peter breathed out a short laugh, holding his head. “I guess they did. I became kind of a baby, didn’t I?”

“No, you’re not a baby. My dad says that it’s okay to cry, and adults do it too. He cries all the time! Sometimes it’s ‘cause he ran out of ice cream. It’s funny. But it helps you not be so sad. So it’s okay to cry, even if you’re old.”

Peter was a little stunned by her words- especially at her implying he was old- but the emotional intelligence of the child was heartening. She was obviously being raised well. “You’re a smart girl.”

“Thanks.” Her smile was a flash of white teeth with baby gaps in between, and it instantly helped to warm Peter’s heart. “My name is Ellie.” She stuck out a small hand, and Peter carefully took it in his glove to give her a gentle hand-shake. “Can I call you Spidey? That’s what my dad calls you if he talks about you.”

“Sure.” Peter smiled, a bit sheepishly, at the mention of his reputation. He silently hoped they weren’t all bad things, but he was just glad she didn’t ask for his name. However, he also saw the sun rising higher through the window of her tree house, and he knew soon it wouldn’t just be children awake in the area. “I think I gotta go, Ellie. But thank you for letting me hang out with you in your tree house. You should go back to bed. It’s really early.”

“Um, wait.”

Peter paused his movements of crawling towards the window, throwing a glance her way. She looked shy and embarrassed as she tugged on the hem of her pajama shirt. “My gramma is staying with me right now while my Mom and Dad are gone but she wakes up really late and I’m really hungry…” She sucked on her teeth, and Peter blinked away the confusion on his face. “Will you umm… make me breakfast? I tried waking her up but she’s snoring too loud to hear me…”

Out of all the requests he’d gotten from children as a hero- and he had gotten a lot of weird requests- this one definitely had to be simultaneously the cutest and oddest of all. She wanted Spider-Man to cook her breakfast. He usually got asked to beat up school bullies or save a cat from a tree, so this was a first. However, the fact she was so hungry she asked a crying superhero to make her food meant her grandma probably slept through a lot of meals. He wouldn’t let her starve.

“...Sure. We gotta be fast, though, okay? And secret. ” Peter said with a soft smile, moving to pull open the door to the tree house. He figured he could make quick pancakes and be gone within an hour, well before her grandma got out of bed. Plus, seeing the grin that spread over her mouth made him glad he hadn’t said no. What else was he going to do? Go home, mope, and listen intently to the radio to see how the news tore him apart again?

“Okay. Fast and secret. Like ninjas.” Ellie cheered, pumping a small fist in the air.

Peter grabbed his mask and slid down the ladder without even touching a step, catching Ellie when she requested to do the same thing. The two snuck across the yard in true ninja-style, the young girl adding in whispered sound effects as she half-rolled and pulled the sliding door open again she had come through earlier. Peter followed in behind her, walking into the living room to find a plainly decorated family home. As promised, no one seemed to be inside, except a cat that ran up and brushed against Peter’s leg. Cartoons played softly on the TV, and a blanket on the couch meant Ellie must have seen him crawl inside her tree-house earlier and come to find him. His tears had dried on his cheeks in the wake of their conversation, and the anxiety attack felt closer to a weight in the rear of his mind than a present threat.

“Do you get cold in your Spidey costume?” Ellie asked from right under Peter, making him jump back. He’d been too distracted to notice she stopped walking and was now staring up at him. “It’s winter. You’re gonna get the flu!.” She said pointedly, in a way that Peter was able to tell she was mimicking a lecture she’d heard a hundred times.

The fact made him smile, but he just shrugged in response. “I guess a little. But I’m running a lot, so it doesn’t bother me.”

“Do you want a jacket?”

“What?” Peter blinked, but held out a hand with an embarrassed shake of his head. “No, wait, it’s okay-”

Ellie disappeared a second later, her feet scampering up carpeted stairs up into the home. Peter stared at the spot she had been before he awkwardly made his way to the kitchen. He may as well start cooking while she looked for...whatever it was she was going to bring. After all, he really didn’t want to give any bad impressions to the neighbors if anyone happened to see him leaving. He wasn’t about to get accused of breaking and entering on top of all the other things the media criticized him for.

The girl returned toting a bundle of clothing, which she promptly shoved into his hands. “There you go.” Ellie declared proudly, walking over to climb up on one of the barstools by the counter. “Now you can be warm.”

“I thought you were grabbing a jacket?” Peter said in bewilderment, finding an entire outfit in his hands, including jeans and socks.

“Well, you can’t go home as Spider-Man, duuuh. Don’t you need skyscrapers and stuff to swing your web things?”

Right. This girl was smarter than he thought.

“Whose are these?” Peter asked, realizing she had a point. He wasn’t really able hop on a bus in his mask without fare.

“My brother Jake’s. But he doesn’t live here anymore. He moved to college.” Ellie pressed her knees onto the counter, peering up to try to see into the pan. “Are those pancakes?”

“Mhm. Do you want syrup?”

“Yeah.” Ellie bounced excitedly, making the stool under her jiggle.

“Okay, I’m gonna change, you watch these and call me if they look like they’re going to burn.” Peter instructed, setting the spatula in his hand onto the counter. “I’ll come by again tonight and drop off your brother’s clothes.”

Ellie nodded and concentrated hard on the steaming pan, taking her duty as pancake-watcher very seriously. Peter slipped off to what he assumed was the downstairs bathroom - he was right- and tucked himself inside before shutting the door. The outfit looked a little big, but he could tell her brother was lanky as well, so it wouldn’t be terrible. Pretty soon he emerged no longer wearing his suit and mask, the two bundled up in the jacket she had given him. Ellie greeted him with a wide grin, crawling off the counter to plop onto her stool.

“Are they done?” She bubbled, as Peter flipped the pancakes and they sizzled against the pan.

“Almost.”

“Can you make extra, for my dad when he stops by?”

“Sure. I thought your parents were out of town?” Peter double checked the bowl, before deciding he had enough to make another few of them with the remaining batter.

“My Mom and Dad are. Their names are Emily and Terry. But my other Dad is still here. He’s my hero. He comes and visits me when he’s not busy. He’s calling me in sick to school today and taking me to the Aquarium!” Ellie’s smile was blinding. She clearly was excited for the day, if her rocking was any indication. “I like having you here, Spidey. You look like Jake. I miss him. Do you have a brother or sister?”

“No, no. It’s just me.” Peter turned around and passed the plate of pancakes to her, pairing the syrup with it. “Okay. Food done. Do you need anything else? I need to get going.”

“You’re not gonna eat?” She pouted, making Peter grin.

“Sorry, Ellie. I really need to get home.”

“Okaaaay...”

“Can you make me a big big promise, though?” Peter asked, leaning on the counter so he was closer to her height. She piled her mouth full of a goop of the breakfast, nodding with inquisitive eyes. “Can you promise not to tell anyone who I am? I know it’s weird to find Spider-Man in your treehouse, but I have to keep my face a secret. To protect people I love.”

“I can’t tell my friends or my Dad?” Ellie asked, clearly disappointed. “Even my best friend?”

“Not even your best friend. Can this stay between us?”

Ellie was quiet for a moment, as if thinking over the terms of their agreement, but she stuck her pinky out for him to take in his own. “I won’t tell anyone. I’m a good liar.”

“Thanks.” Peter gave her one last high five before he gathered his stuff. He pulled a plastic bag from under the sink and shoved his jacket-wrapped-suit into it, dropping it over his arm. “Then I’ll see you tonight to bring the clothes back.” He promised, and walked to the door to carefully unlock it and pull it open.

And there, standing just outside with his fist raised in a rapping motion, was none other than Wade mother-fucking Wilson.

Confusion drew over both of their faces. There was a moment of stunned silence in which Wade looked down at Peter was if he was the strangest thing he had ever seen, and Peter’s cheeks turned beet red from the close proximity in which he stared up at Wade’s scarred face. He was dressed with a beanie tucked over most of his bald head, the rest of his body covered by a scarf, hoodie, mittens, and sweatpants. Despite the modesty, his eyes, cheeks, and nose were still immediately available to be seen. Neither moved for a solid 10 seconds.

Until Ellie’s stool screeched across the tile floor and her tiny feet came running up behind Peter, her mouth still shoved full of pancakes and syrup on her fingertips. “Daddy!”

“Hey, pumpkin!” The small child lept into Wade’s arms and he complied easily with her weight, half throwing her in the air to pull her up into his grasp. He planted a rough kiss to the top of her head, careful not to crush the bouquet of flowers tucked in his hand. “Ugh, you’re getting too heavy for me! Soon you’ll be bigger than I am!”

“Stop, Daddy, I’ll never be that big.” Ellie laughed, pushing her sticky fingers into his nose playfully.

“You just wait. Here, these are for you.” Wade smiled, handing her the bouquet he must have gotten from a grocery store , and finally seemed to remember Peter was there and gawking at the ex-mercenary with a goddamn child. “So,uh, Petey-Pie? I’m sure you remember me, even if the suit hiding these devilishly-good looks is gone. Deadpool? Yeah, now that we got that out of the way...Why are you at my daughter’s house?”

Peter’s lips opened in a shocked manner, and he really did mean to answer, but his mind suddenly went blank. Because your kid found me pathetically sobbing in her tree house. This would really be a funny story to tell Wade later, if it didn’t look so bad to anyone that didn’t know the situation.

“He’s Jake’s friend. He babysits me while Gramma Ti is asleep.” Ellie interrupted, innocently staring at them.

Peter looked over at Ellie, shocked, blinking at the excuse she had come up with in no time. She wasn’t kidding when she said she was a good liar. She gave him a discreet grin, and he really could see the resemblance now between her and Wade. “Uh-huh.” He said lamely, turning his awkward expression up to the suspicious man. Wade didn’t speak, didn’t move, and Peter was sure he was toast and about to get charged for breaking and entering when all he wanted to do was feed a hungry kid.

But then Wade broke out into a chill smile and he gave a shrug that made Peter instantly relax. “Really? Cool.” He let Ellie stand on her own two feet again, and she ran to take her space at her pancake breakfast. “And you made food? I must have died and gone to heaven, because I’m fucking starving and you’re looking like an angel right now.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Peter quipped, his heart starting to beat harder and faster in his chest. It was barely 10 hours ago they’d parted on an uncomfortable note, and Peter was sure Wade wouldn’t have gotten over being kicked out so quickly. Wade walked past him anyways, heading towards the kitchen to get himself the last helping, leaving Peter to inch out the door.. “Well, since you’re here, I guess I’ll take off?”

“Wait, wait, Petey, what about your pay?” Wade asked, pouring half a bottle of syrup onto his drowning breakfast. “Did they leave you money?”

“It’s fine.” Peter said and waved his hands, trying to find any excuse to dip out,the bag with his suit feeling twice as heavy. “I’ll call Mary and Terry later.”

“Emily and Terry.” Ellie whispered.

Peter smiled sheepishly, rubbing his upper arm. “Emily and Terry, right. I’m terrible at names.”

“But you’ve been crying.” Wade said, and pointedly looked up at Peter’s face, his expression notably more serious. “Why? Has everything been okay for you two?”

Peter had forgotten, the ghost of his burning and swollen eyes being the only evidence left of his panic attack earlier in the day. His fingers brushed under his bottom eyelashes along the puffiness, and he swallowed hard. “Everything was fine.”

“Hey, Ellie, wanna go get dressed for the best day ever?” Wade asked as he glanced over at his daughter. Her face lit up, and she gave an energetic nod.

“Yeah! I’m gonna wear my new favorite pair of jeans.”

“I bet they make you look badass.”

“Yup! I’ll be right back!” Ellie jumped from her stool and tumbled up the steps, leaving the two alone in the downstairs living room.

Peter realized a second later that Wade was walking towards him, a determined look spread on his face. Mittens enclosed around his hands, tightly gripping them together, and his arms were jerked towards Wade who was way too close for Peter to keep a straight face. He subdued a startled noise, every muscle in his body tensing defensively.

“I don’t believe in fate, but I think this is the closest I’ve ever found.”

“C- come again? ” Peter croaked, trying to make sense of the situation. It was as if every dream he’d ever had about Wade was coming true, in a very unlikely way, and he had to remind himself he wasn’t asleep. There was no way Wade was confessing to him, right?

“I think this is a sign, Petey. There’s no other explanation for all of this shit. I think you were made for me. Like Harry Styles and only buttoning the bottom half of his shirt.” Wade’s cracked lips were smiling so sincerely at him, Peter thought his heart would stop altogether.

“Deadpool?” Peter breathed, feeling Wade’s grip on his hands tighten. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not just your guardian angel. You’re my chance! To prove that I can be good and win the respect of the Avengers, Spider-Man, and Ellie.” Wade grinned, looking satisfied with his self-prophecy.

Peter choked on his breath, and his stomach dropped. Of course he had gotten his hopes up for nothing. What else did he expect? He was just the twerpy kid Wade was handling with daycare gloves so he wouldn’t end his life. He shoved the glimmer of optimism away, and took the chance to retrieve his hands, reeling apart from him. “You think I’m just a badge on your girl scout vest?” He grimaced.

Wade was quick to recover. “Did I say that? I might have said that, but that’s not what I mean. I mean that I’m obviously not only trying to help you for the brownie points. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to become more hero-ish and la-di-dah. But I don’t think it was just coincidence you were on my roof that night,” Peter winced. “And I don’t think I would have found you here unless you were put here. By...by destiny!”

“Destiny?” Peter repeated, as if Wade was joking. The unchanging, determined expression he held proved he was completely serious, and the lie suddenly seemed to swell twice what it had before. What had he gotten himself into? “I-I guess...but, hey, I really should go if that’s okay with you? I have a lot of homework to do still, and if you don’t need me anymore…?”

“Wait, if you stay, I’ll pay you twice what Emily usually does.” Wade said, holding out a halting hand. “You can hang out with us for a little bit, and I’ll even make a stop at your apartment in the cab to get you home. I read a Daddy article once that said kids are soup for the soul or some bullshit like that, but I think they were right! Ellie hung around me during the bad times and kept my knives out of people’s chests. It’s obvious you had a bad night, and I think she would be good in your rehabilitation.”

Peter shifted and his plastic bag crinkled. His suit was still buried inside the jacket, and if he wanted to save his confession for a time that didn’t feel so precarious, he had to get it home and out of sight.

Besides that, when he glanced at the clock it was 7:15, and he was extremely late for class.

“I can’t.” Peter finally sighed in guilt, combing his fingers through messy hair as he tried to map out a good reason. “My Aunt’s coming home soon and I should take advantage of the extra time to make sure the apartment is clean.”

“Fine, I get it. You hate me.” Wade teased, much in a similar tone as Ellie had used earlier. At first glance, they didn’t look to be related, but the more the two of them talked, it was clear that they were. “What about tomorrow? It doesn’t even have to be a super long hangout. We can just go rob a bank or something. Kidding, of course. Ellie is more of an ATM whacker than anything.”

“What are you saying, Dad?” Ellie called from the top of the stairs.

“Nothing, sugar plum!” Wade yelled back, then turned to grin wide at Peter. “Pretty please?”

Peter wanted to say no, he truly did, but there was something dazzling in the way Wade’s teeth were a bright white and contrasted with the raw, cracked skin of his lips. His heart thumped loudly against his rib cage and he tightened his grip on the bag. “Okay. Maybe for a little bit. I really do have to go, though, so if we could just discuss this later…?”

“So it’s a date.” Wade declared, grabbing the door and holding it open for Peter. “See you then.”

“Yep.” Peter choked as the word ‘date’ radiated through his thoughts. “See you then.”

He felt almost dazed as he turned and half-leapt over the steps, pulling up Google Maps on his phone to plan his route home. He hadn’t intended to give in and agree to hang out with Wade, but it was just for a few hours.

It’s not like something would go horribly wrong in just a few hours.

-----

Ellie awoke to a tapping on her window that night.

She drew her eyes open and rubbed them tiredly, a yawn racking her body. It took a few moments to realize the room was still very much dark, and she couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours. Unless she had slept through the entire day. Panic made her jump up to her feet. What if she had missed lunch?

But before she could take off downstairs to ask her Daddy- still sleeping on the downstairs couch- why he hadn’t woken her up for an entire day, she noticed there was something white flapping in the breeze just outside. She carefully picked her way through toys to the window sill and peered outside.

The tree branch that hung closest to the tree house had a plastic bag suspended a foot underneath, draped by a white rope. Looking closer, it was a Spider-man web, and just next to the bag was the hero himself, perched on the edge of her treehouse. He held a finger to his lips, making her giggle and return the gesture.

Then quick as he had arrived, he shot a web from his wrists and leaped off the platform, disappearing into the night as she was left gaping in awe.

#my fanfic #fanfic #spideypool fanfic #spideypool #spiderman #marvel

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fanfic-scribbles · 6 years

Text

On the Run: Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve: “Homeward Bound” or “Trash Panda III: The Reckoning”

Masterlist Here

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Avengers; MCU Captain America

Adventure/Romance – James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes/Reader – Female Reader

Warnings: Violence, language, eventual romance, reader character with sassy/abrasive personality

Chapter Summary: Bucky thinks he’s doing all right, all things considered. So of course everything has gone to hell.

Special Chapter Warnings: Slight violence

Words: 1194

A/N: Argh; I think I’ve spent more time working on this chapter than I have spent on any other chapter thus far and it might be the shortest. Bucky, why you gotta be so difficult. However thankfully the next chapter is chugging along quite nicely and might be ready for follow-up quicker than I expected…though now that I’ve said that I’ve probably jinxed it. :Knocks on wood: I’m just…gonna stop talking now. Er, writing. Whatever.

Chapter Twelve: “Homeward Bound” or “Trash Panda III: The Reckoning”

If anyone would care to ask Bucky, he would say he’s doing all right.

One of the lucky unconscious Hydra assassins groans and Bucky gives him a swift boot to the head, silencing him once more. Bucky stares at him for a moment and then snorts. The guy actually made noise when he started waking up.

Amateurs. Bucky’s dealing with amateurs.

Slight against his skills aside, he’s feeling pretty good. He’s left some drop points for Maria or Clint to play fetch with, he’s carrying a good portion of documents and hard drives, and he’s on his way home, as are Steve, Natasha, Sam, and…

You.

Bucky takes a steadying breath and gets to work piling the bodies of the dead and securing the living for the authorities. His ratio of alive-to-dead gets better every time, and he feels a small swell of pride at that. They may be neo-Nazi bastards but he’s found a sense of peace in seeing them caged, confined, and forced to fall in line. If that makes him petty, so be it. It also keeps him removed from the Soldier he used to be and he can’t find anything bad about that, no matter how ‘soft’ it makes him.

As he strips the living of their weapons, he chuckles at the thought that this pathetically sidestepped excuse for an ambush has actually offended him when he’s been debased with so much worse than a questioning of his abilities. Well, it makes him smile. Steve probably wouldn’t find it funny. He thinks you might, though.

Bucky grimaces and throws the cattle prod-wielding asshole (well, former asshole) a little harder than he had intended. Right, you’re going to…talk. Both you and him. And he has to be actually physically present. The thought almost makes him sweat and hope for some Avengers-necessary disaster in the near future– after you are safely ensconced in the Tower, of course. But then that would give you unsupervised access to Pepper, whom you would likely make your ally, and then there’s Maria, and Bucky suddenly realizes why Steve thinks jumping out of planes without parachutes is a reasonable and good idea.

The day he acts as stupid as Rogers, though, will be the end of them and as of right now Bucky intends to actually live his own life while he has it. If that includes subjecting himself to your suspicious squinting and passive-aggressive glaring and, yes, words, then so be it. He’s anticipating the coming conversation in a way he doesn’t yet know how to parse. He’s dreading the questions and the anger. He’s also excited to see you, when he never expected to see you again. Which is something you probably know. And are going to be angry with him for. And yell at him about.

He winces. There’s going to be so much yelling.

He’ll take it, though. He can’t say, honestly, he doesn’t deserve it. After decades of mental slavery and only a few short years of freedom, he’s still getting used to being human again and making his own choices. As everyone reminds him over and over (and over and over and over and over…) again, he can and will make mistakes. He can only hope, in this case, that it is not irreparable. It didn’t sound like you were unforgiving, but Bucky doesn’t know what to expect when his actions have cost you your home, your way of living, and put your very life on the line–

He fastens a zip tie a little too tight, sighs, cuts it, and replaces it with something that won't cost the person her limb. Because he’s not an asshole.

Mostly. He feels like one, though, and he wonders if it wouldn’t have been better to leave earlier. Before accepting your dinner. Before climbing back into your window to rest. Before using your apartment as a base started to feel right and natural, like a real home. Before feeling your warm body sliding on top of his at night soothed his heartbeat and made him think he could have something like this.

He waits for the regret but it doesn’t come. He tries to force it, to tell himself that he isn’t worth all this, but his mind selfishly holds onto that feeling of safety and warmth the way he held onto your doorknob for a full five minutes before leaving that last time, the way he carried that stupid blanket with him for months before shoving it in a safe place with a handful of other mementos that he hoped no one else would find.

“Why are you smiling, Asset?”

Bucky turns to look at one of the living Hydra lackeys that he now wishes he hadn’t been so kind too. The man is squinting out of one eye, blood crusted over the other, and his smile is missing some teeth. Bucky’s not sure more or less teeth would help how creepy he looks, but he’s definitely willing to test the latter if the guy gets on his nerves.

“Were you thinking of your woman, perhaps?” he says.

Bucky flinches, but he’s good enough not to show it. His fist tightens, though, and the man’s smile curls.

A phone rings and Bucky only notes where the noise is coming from, keeping tabs on the too-conscious Hydra agent bound on the floor. “You should answer that,” the man says.

Yeah, right, because enemy assassins always carry safe-to-use phones that will absolutely not blow up in one’s face. Bucky aims without even looking and shoots the phone to pieces. The man flinches and loses his smile. “You– you should have picked that up. You have no idea who was on the other end.”

Bucky snorts, holsters his gun, and goes to knock the guy out. He gets as far as gripping the guy’s hair.

“‘Trash Panda’, she called you,” the man blurts out. “Even your lover refers to you as waste!”

That’s not what that m–

Bucky goes still in a way that almost hurts. It feels like a light flashes in his head, his body goes cold, and then hot. Very, very hot. He comes back to himself when his left hand is choking the man silent. Bucky forces himself to let go, and he barely restrains himself from hitting the man. At this point, he might kill him. It would be no big loss, except that he needs information now.

“Where,” Bucky growls.

The agent opens his mouth and Bucky knows, just knows, it’s going to be bullshit. So he slams the man’s face into the ground and pulls him back up. Now the man can’t see out of either eye, thanks to the blood trailing over the other one. “I don’t–” he chokes and Bucky slams him to the ground again. The man stammers out coordinates and Bucky slams him one last time. The man is unconscious but breathing, and Bucky stands, grabs his things, and walks out. He barely resists the urge to leave nothing but bodies, to set the whole damn building on fire. Maybe there’s still a little bit of The Soldier in him.

He thinks it might be necessary to find out.

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#bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #avengers reader insert #avengers fanfic #reader insert #on the run

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