#Compound Fracture took us 12 days

[hyacinthcollective]

No fr. Give us the next books already. We read Compound Fracture way to fast

Andrew joseph white the author that you are

PS if he doesn't release his future books today I don't know what I'll do

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Eight

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 8 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: abusive parental relationship; extreme canon violence (gun violence, hand-to-hand, baton use, knives); strong language; mentions of drug smuggling, drugs, and human smuggling; mentions of blood and blood loss; major/minor character death (not the mains, don’t worry!); angst; gunshot wounds; heavy alcohol consumption

Word Count: 14,600+

A/N: Listen... you know damn well I had to put some American Pie lyrics in this. The reader’s and Jackeline’s relationship is not modeled after Nat and Yelena lol it was literally the biggest coincidence. 

~

MedBay - The New Compound, 2024, 1:52 pm     

     “He did what?”     

Bruce smiles sheepishly as he lugs Steve’s practically lifeless body onto one of those beige medical beds. Dr. Cho is pacing calmly around the room, getting her instruments cleaned and ready. She tries to ignore the way you’re crowding her, inspecting everything she touches and in turn is going to end up touching Steve.      

“He took a bullet for someone.”     

“And where is that someone?” you bite. You immediately want to apologize to Bruce for your tone but you’re distracted by the tiny groans of pain coming from the pale super soldier beside you. You have to look away to avoid whimpering yourself, but you can’t exactly make yourself deaf. “Don’t tell me he took a bullet for you.”     

Bruce rolls his eyes and steps to the side as Dr. Cho begins cutting away Steve’s pants. “Everyone else is on vacation. He has no one here to take a bullet for besides. It was a shitty liquor store robbery and Steve was, of course, being a hero.”      

“Where’s he hit?” you ask, heading over to grab a pair of gloves yourself. No one questions it.      

“Femoral artery. Seems like he was plugging his own wound until he could get help.”     

Dr. Cho is right. There’s a massive gash in his thigh that’s leaking excessively and the skin surrounding the wound is raised like Steve’s own fingers had plunged so deeply it left an imprint. Not only that, but his hand is covered in his blood. So is Bruce’s, you realize, because he had tried to plug the artery as well.      

“How is he not dead yet?” Dr. Cho more mutters to herself than to you guys. Steve’s head is lolling to the side and his lips are an awful shade of white. His eyes are fluttering open and closed… open… closed… and he’s still mumbling random phrases. There’s a rough tug at the bottom of your stomach that pulls and pulls and there’s a weird urge to crawl onto the table to keep Steve warm.      

“He needs blood,” you say, even though all parties in the room know that as fact.     

Bruce, however, winces. “Sam’s not even in the state right now and I don’t think we have enough time to fly him-”    

“Is he Sam’s blood type? What’s his blood type? Why can’t Bucky do it? Bucky’s in Brooklyn, he can be here in five minutes if he runs.”    

Bruce starts rummaging through the upper level shelves and freezer cabinets. “Can’t mix the serums. We’ve tried.” He finally finds the blood bags, pulling them all out and spreading them across the clean tables. “It’s - shit - do we not have?”     

Dr. Cho is now covered in blood, working as fast as she can to close the wound. “What’s his blood type?”    

Bruce repeats it out loud and watches as Dr. Cho’s face falls. “I ran out yesterday. The blood drive isn’t until this weekend. I had a patient come in yesterday, I - I ran out yesterday.”     

They seem to be having their own conversation with their eyes and are too focused on each other to see you already stripping your long-sleeve shirt and wrapping that horrible blue rubber band around your upper arm. “Me. Take mine.”    

Bruce immediately shakes his head, stuttering as he tries to remove the rubber band. “Nu-uh, I don’t know if you know this but you’re human. I need two bags, three tops. I can’t just take it all from you right now!”    

“Then get me some cookies and a juice box. I don’t care how much you have to take to make him speak a coherent sentence. Do me.”    

Bruce hesitates but he rushes to the cabinets for the needles, vials, tubes, whatever - “No, do it direct.”     

Your words startle the two doctors but they don’t question it. They hook you up and poke the needle in the first vein they find, attaching the tube instead of a single vial and direct it to Steve.      

“You sure your blood matches?”     

You give Bruce a pointed look as if that isn’t something written on your dog tags or on your weekly personal reports.      

In the end, you’re told that you gave him the equivalent of two pints of blood. Not that you were awake for the second anyway but you vaguely remember Steve’s voice ringing in your ears. You’re not awake as he regains consciousness or to witness his very confused glare at seeing you in the bed next to him.     

He swears he heard small mumblings… ‘If you die because of some highway robbery, Rogers --- I’m never gonna fucking stop bullying your grave --- haunt it’.... ‘Stay --- with me, please’.... ‘---supposed to apologize first’....   

He tests the waters, mumbling a name he only says with annoyance nowadays. But now, it’s gently said. Soft, a whisper that sounds like a fractured hymn. 

Present Day, 2025, 12:05 pm

     There isn’t a set emotion in the world that seems appropriate. What are people supposed to feel when they’re singled out and chosen to suffer a life of pain? Self-hate? Pity for themselves? Anger? Sadness? Remorse? Nothing?

You really don’t know what you’re feeling. In the middle of rubbing vaseline on your newly acquired cuts and scrapes and bandaging yourself up, biting on a belt as Bucky set your shoulder back in place, and lying with Steve discussing everything and nothing all night after your promise - well, what the hell are you supposed to feel? As inevitable as it was considering he had ordered you shot before, the one feeling you know you feel is betrayed. Because even though Ernesto has proven himself evil time and time again, to his own flesh and blood, there was still a small part in your heart that didn’t think any parent truly wanted to inflict pain on their children. And your heart keeps proving itself wrong again and again.

“You just... jumped out of the car?”

Ramirez’s voice snaps you from your inner thoughts. He was let out of custody this morning. He’s currently filling in anyone who asks about the shipment, about Ernesto’s future plans, about the role he thought he had.

“Against my better judgment, but yeah.”

He chuckles and grins like he’s a kid hearing the best story ever told. “That’s what superheroes do. At least, what I’ve seen in the movies. John Wick, Bond, esos tipos.”

“I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, Omar,” there’s a teasing tone, “but I’m a fucking Avenger.”

That makes him laugh louder and in turn pulls one from you. “Ya se, ya se. I’ve known you since you were born. It’s weird hearing stories about you saving the world and jumping from bombed cars.”

“Mm, wait until you hear about that time I went into space and landed on another planet. Or time traveled. Take your pick.”

He’s stunned into silence and after a few more praises, he lets you return to typing out your report. There are plenty of other agents around for him to busy himself with. The base is tiny and not at all what you expected, but it’s secure enough to fit Torres, Sam, Bucky, and about fifteen other agents as they prepare for tonight. The plan you and Steve outlined was simple: attend the wedding, butter everyone up, send Steve away to help Ernesto retrieve and move the shipment, Scott and Sam will infiltrate, Bucky would be on standby to help you fight, and the rest of the team at base will begin arrests and sweeps. If everything goes according to plan, at least.

It’s easy to speak negatively about these things - there really were only two ways this could go.

You finish your report and go to stand, only realizing a minute later walking through the base that Ramirez is following you. You send him a funny look over your shoulder and he returns with a small smile of his own.

“Tengo preguntas!”

You stop and let him catch up. “Hmm?”

“Okay,” he starts, motioning his hands wordlessly until he could form them. “Are you and the Captain actually... juntos? Or just Avenger partners?”

“That’s personal, Omar,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “But I guess? That’s weird discussing with you.”

He nods in agreement. “It’s okay, I was just curious. So, him being mad was just an act? He doesn’t really hurt and threaten you, no?” He’s treading lightly, but you can already see the cartel mind turning. He would order Steve’s execution if he had to, even if he believed it to be morally wrong in some situations.

“Never. It was just an act for Ernesto.”

“Ah, Dios. Thank goodness.”

“Yeah, keep your men in line. It’s fine.”

He chuckles at that. “And the other Avengers?”

“They’re my family, Omar,” you grin wide, waking slower for the old man to keep up. “They would never hurt me.”

“That’s good, but not what I was asking.”

“Oh?”

“What are they like?”

Handing your report to one of the agents at a handful of monitors, you laugh loudly. “Do you want to meet them officially?”

“Aye, I know my daughters would like that...”

You raise an eyebrow.

“But I would like to meet them, too.”

“That’s what I thought. C’mon.”

The rest of the team are all relaxing and discussing the past days events in the lounge area, which is really just a glorified break room. Bucky’s still in his morning sweats same as Scott, Torres is already suited up, and both Sam and Steve are wearing their Avenger gear (minus Sam’s wings and Steve’s battered shield). Steve is the first one to notice you enter and he instantly gets up from his chair to greet you with a kiss on the cheek.

“Gross,” Bucky mumbles.

“You’ve been trying to get me a girl for over ninety years, Buck. And now that I’ve finally got someone who likes me back, you bully me for it?”

“Who’s bullin’? I said the same thing when Agent Carter smooched you in the weapon’s room and you thought you were alone.”

You pat Steve’s shoulder. “Think about it, Rogers. When Bucky settles down with someone, you have free reign.”

Steve pulls a thin smile and glances back at Bucky. “I’ll make them hate you.”

“Love and hate are the same thing, pal. It worked out for you two.”

“Okay, we’re done. Everyone, Omar wanted to formally introduce himself.”

Ramirez gives a shy wave. Torres returns it. It’s kind of hilarious to witness. Here you all are, Avengers and some standing over six feet with one of the most wanted drug lords in the world, and the all mighty drug lord is shy. 

“I’m so sorry we got off on the wrong foot.” You notice how when Ramirez speaks to strangers or those he deems good people on his side, his accent is a little thicker. It’s like he wants to speak only in Spanish other than the Spanglish you were all accustomed to. “But it really is an honor to meet you all.”

Scott is the first to stand and shake his hand. “Sorry I pointed my gun at you, man. Habit.”

Ramirez chuckles, “Sorry I broke into your room.”

Steve interjects, “Thank you, though. For telling us what more we’re fighting for.”

Ramirez nods, a solemn look spreading over his face. “The minute I found out, I didn’t know who to tell. I’m lucky you were never truly on his side.”

“And what will you do after all this is over?” Bucky stands. “How do we know we can truly trust you?”

Ramirez sneaks a glance at you and you raise your hands. “Hey, I’ve got the same questions as him.”

Ramirez must know he isn’t getting out of this one because he answers quickly. “Drugs have a market where people choose. I just meet supply and demand protocols. I don’t do the unnecessary violence or blackmail. There is no need to. People will always want drugs.”

There’s a round of agreement throughout the small room. Ramirez continues, “But smuggling humans? There is no choice, nothing moral about it, it’s evil.”

“But people get addicted to drugs. They die from them everyday,” Sam argues.

“I produce and deal what you American’s call weed. Ernesto does the big stuff, as does White. I’m,” he laughs a little. “I’m their weed guy.”

“That is true,” you confirm. You’ve moved and packaged Ramirez’s product before. “Literally just weed.”

Everyone seems deep in thought, like their processing Ramirez’s words and the weight behind them. Ramirez ran with the big boys and was the biggest distributor of marijuana in Mexico and America alike, but he never messed with any other product. Besides producing, selling, and smuggling illegal weed, his only other crimes included conspiring with Ernesto on how to get the product over state lines.

“Okay,” Steve starts. “So how is tonight gonna work? We have to discuss that.”

Ramirez bows his head. “You’ve allowed me safety, you’ve listened to me speak, and you’re saving both my life and my daughter’s. If you must arrest me, then you arrest me.”

“The minute you’re transferred to a prison with less security, Ernesto’s men will get you,” you reason, already shaking your head no.

Ramirez gives a nonchalant shrug, “But you’ll get him and White. That’s all that matters.”

You look over to Steve for some other ideas, but like you he doesn’t have any. No one seems to have any.

Torres matches his shrug and his voice is small as he speaks, almost like his next idea is insane. “We can always put him in the Raft.”

Everyone’s eyes go wide.

“That’s where all the enhanced humans go, no?” Ramirez is stunned. “Do I count?”

“We’ve got no idea,” Steve rubs at his chin, looking at you for confirmation he knows you don’t have. “But it’s an idea.”

     The plan is no longer singular. Fury had sent his best field agents for the job, the ones with the best aim, the ones with great strategic planning. Although you and Steve were still in charge, it was no longer just your mission. Your mission was to arrest the big three, big four when including Seda. That was it.

The plan goes like this: half the team will be focused on the venue itself, hidden in the shadows and monitoring the big three as well as your mics, and will aid you in the physical fight and arrests. Some are on the ground while others in the sky. Afterwards, they’ll sweep the estate and collect stolen property or priceless artworks. The other half is split into two, where one of those halves will be spread out for miles to capture anyone that might slip through, like guests who were on the most wanted list or guests that have helped Ernesto in the past. The other part of that half will intercept the shipment (once Steve radios in the location), save the hostages, and shut down the routes. 

They instruct Ramirez to call Ernesto and to ask him if there’s a vegetarian menu offered. Ernesto responds with only a muttered groan and in a wild turn of events, asks if Ramirez can call you to make sure you arrive earlier than expected to make sure Jackeline walks down that aisle. He’s completely serious. Not only does Ramirez play along, but Ernesto doesn’t give any indication that he knows about the car bomb. So the team makes a judgement call: this was only Seda’s doing.

Ramirez is then told that the Raft is not an option; both the US and Mexican government want him and the only reason he hasn’t been arrested is because he still has many cards to play. The more he helps, the less time he’ll get. 

One thing is known: this is the biggest mission anybody has been on in over two years. 

      Bucky remembers things in bits and pieces. Sometimes he’ll be minding his own business, enjoying this new world and the countless amenities it offers, and remember exactly where he was on the hottest day of the year in 1936. He remembers the blistering heat, boiling his once pale skin and giving him that beautiful olive he was now known for. He remembers the way his tongue dried almost instantly the moment he stepped outside and how he asked his next door neighbor, Ms. Kranshall, for a cup of water before work. He remembers her massive square glasses and how they nudged the tip of her nose as she nodded sweetly at him. He remembers her high but smoky voice and the way she patted his shoulder as he drank the cup down. 

The first time he remembered Natalia was around the same time he remembered Steve. He sees a flash of ember in strands, speed almost matching his, and he sees those panicked green eyes he was once all too familiar with. 

She was twelve when he first met her, forced to throw her around like a ragdoll until her ribs were bruised and her spirit broken. He went again and again, and when he wasn’t forced he would teach her how to fight properly and how to shield her most vulnerable areas. Scared as she was, she never showed it in those private moments, and decided to follow his lead in most things. And she learned to be fierce, no matter how hard he hit, and he still remembers the look in her eyes and the pull of her young face as they yanked him away for cryo before he could congratulate her on winning her first fight. 

The first time he remembered you was when you leapt onto T’Challa’s back as the chase neared, tackling the young prince become king, and watched with sad eyes as both him and Steve climbed onto the jet for Siberia. He remembers your clumsy punches when you fought him with half his brain and how he kicked you so hard you flew. He also remembers how when you took that kick for Steve, the sound of his wail almost deafened the soldier. 

Everytime he remembers something, a memory, no matter how strangled it may arise, the twinge in his chest is good. He’s remembering. He’s James Buchanan Barnes.

He feels that same twinge when a face full of freckles greets him at the entrance, documents raised above her head in a show of selfish glee, and a pep in her step that tells him she remembers him too. 

“Sergeant Barnes!” Maribel gives a toothy grin. “Never thought I’d see you again!”

Bucky tilts his chin up and rests the tip of tongue between his incisors. “What? Hydra wasn’t enough for you, you gotta infiltrate the Mexican cartel, too?”

She scoffs playfully, “Other way ‘round.”

He snatches the documents from her hand and leads her inside. “I hope you got something here. Steve put a lotta faith in you.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Y/N does. That’s enough for me.”

Rolling her eyes, she snatches the documents back to turn the pages herself. “Follow me. We need to chat in private.”

“Shouldn’t we get-”

“I’d rather you know, and you tell them later. No audience.”

This causes Bucky to tense. He follows her in further and closes the door behind them both. 

The left side of her face had less freckles back in 2012, he remembers, and now she’s covered in them.     

Bucky remembers things slowly, but he remembers them. 

      It’s cold outside, air bruising your skin, and there are hundreds of goosebumps now erupting. You joke with yourself that in the end, you’ll most likely have to ask Steve for his jacket and ruin your overall look but hey, you’ll be warm. The wedding doesn’t start until five in the evening and it’s one’oclock right now, and there are white clouds in the sky instead of gray and the songs of some desperate birds searching for their lunch near your ears. It at least drowns out the constant noise of the agents hammering away at each other and preparing for tonight.   

It makes your stomach roll: these agents are putting their lives at risk because of you. 

     You stepped through the discarded papers and tried not to leave your footprint anywhere important. His office was empty, left in a state of purgatory, and his lamp was still on. It’s like he stepped out for a minute.

You picked everything up: pens, computers, books, chairs. Under everything, there was dust. 

He really did die.

As much as you wanted to step on his remains and spit on him, you couldn’t. The gash in your heart was still open and bleeding for everyone else and there was no room left for anger. You were indifferent, for lack of a better word. Frustrated?

A paper crumbles outside his office. No one had followed you in - a week after the snap and every single person on earth was still searching for loved ones or running from something - so no, no one else was supposed to be here. Mexico had been hit hard, it’s government shattered, and every cartel was picking up pieces or tearing the world further apart. There was no line anymore. 

You twisted around and aimed your gun at the door, immediately lowering it when you saw Natasha raise her hands. She had this embarrassed smile on her face like she knew she had been caught.

“I meant to say hi over your mic. But you turned it off.”

You sighed deeply and dramatically shrugged your shoulders. “Well, I’m here. Guess who’s not.”

Natasha only nods and steps further into the room. She looks over the same things you did. “He’s gone? Good, good riddance.”

“But his death means nothing if trillions of others died also. It’s so fucking typical of him. If he’s going down, he takes everyone else with him.”

“He didn’t take them, Y/N.”

“I want to be happy,” you spit out through clenched teeth. “I want to feel relief. The fucking bastard is finally gone and I can’t even enjoy it properly.”

Natasha takes one more look at the hallway before letting her guard down almost completely. She envelopes you in a hug, squeezing tighter each time your breath hitches. “Hey, listen to me.”

“He’s gone.”

“I know,” Natasha’s voice is low and reminds you of the gentle hum of record static. “He’s gone and he can’t hurt you anymore.”

“But everyone-”

“No,” she pulls away and places both her palms over your neck. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

It takes a while before you’re nodding along, repeating her words gently.

“You’re more than the pain he inflicted. You’re more than his name or crimes. You’re worth more than his impact ten times over. He can’t hurt you anymore. I know everyone’s gone, and we’re going to fight like hell to bring them back, but in this little moment, this little thread you can pull - pull it all out - he can’t hurt you anymore.”

She’s all muscle and bone and blood and real. What would you do without Natasha?

     The grass beneath your bare feet calms you down. It’s tendrils are a little ticklish and there are droplets of silver morning water fog melting as they touch your skin. Focusing on the feeling isn’t enough to get you out of your own head and for a wild second, you think the God of Thunder is going to come up behind you and hold your hand. It’s peaceful out here, but what you wouldn’t give to see him again. 

The day before Steve and Carol returned the stones, he had been here. He did as he promised: the second the flood of happiness extinguished like a Christmas candle, he found you settled in the mass of pillows with only instrumental music playing. He left for two cups of tea, sat in silence with you as you both drank, and whispered a strangled ‘I’m sorry’ as if you weren’t meant to hear it. Apologizing for someone who did come back, and you for someone who didn’t. 

‘You know I don’t regret what we did. We brought everyone back.’ 

‘Don’t try and justify your sadness. Not at all, not with me.’ His voice was stern and his eyes serious.

‘I’m sorry he didn’t come back.’

His eyes had closed, as if he was expecting that apology, and he looked out the window where the sun was just barely rising, shining on him and him alone. ‘I’m sorry, too.’

There are footsteps, though. Heavy ones, footsteps that announce his upcoming presence on purpose so as to not startle anymore. Bucky was too generous for his own good. 

“Had a visitor.”

You remain silent as Bucky sits next to you, looking up from his spot and expecting you to sit as well. “There’s water on the grass.”

“There’s water in the air in this godforsaken state, now sit down.” A push of laughter escapes your lungs but you follow his instructions anyway. 

You sit in silence for a few minutes, admiring the way the pine trees bend slightly with the gusts of wind and how the birds have changed their pitch. You expect Bucky to speak first so you occupy that time by playing with the strands of wet grass. 

“In 1997, I was taken out of cryo for a mission.”

You wince on accident. This wasn’t how you expected the conversation to start. 

Bucky continues, “There was this man south of the border.” He points south to prove his point. “Hydra wanted to take him out because he was interfering with the drug routes they were monitoring.”

“Hydra controlled drug routes?”

“Hydra had their heads in plenty of places. They didn’t control them, but they did monitor them.”

You shake your head in understanding. “And this man?”

Bucky sighs heavily. His eyes are focused on the gentle yellows behind the trees instead of you. “He was told to take out another man traveling through and out one of these drug routes. He made a different call.”

“Who was your visitor?”

“Maribel.”

“Wha-?” You go to stand but Bucky gently pushes your left shoulder back down. “Why are you telling me this and not her?”

“She wanted me to tell you. And I guess, in turn, you tell Steve and the rest of the team.”

“Bucky,” your voice trembles on accident. “Tell me.”

“The man I was ordered to take out was Maribel’s brother.” He chuckles at your frantic shuffling and pushes you down again. He continues, “Hey, it’s okay. She never knew him and she doesn’t hate me for what I was.”

You don’t really believe him. But his face isn’t telling you otherwise. You're stuck between wanting to dig for more information and giving him a giant bear hug. “Did you… succeed?”

“The soldier ever rarely lost.”

Your face contorts. “Bucky…”

“He disobeyed orders, Hydra didn’t like that since it disrupted the drug routes, and so I was sent to help. Hydra didn’t seem to care about the man he let go, though.” Bucky shrugs and starts playing with the grass behind your hand. “The thing was, Maribel’s brother had been doing this a long time. Ernesto was on Hydra’s radar but in a good way. Maribel’s brother was also given very specific orders from one other person - their mother.”

The story pieces are all discarded haphazardly, pieces that are from different boxes and don’t seem to entangle properly. 

“She told him to let the man go. Because this man was an American, and killing an American on Mexican soil was something that was impossible to hide from the claws of the law. So, this American made it back on US soil safely and was never heard from again. Until 1998, when he tried to re-enter Mexico under a false name but with one purpose. To see his newborn baby girl.”

The yellow behind the pine trees fades into orange. 

“Are you saying-?”

“Maribel’s mother kept everything your mother left her when she tried to cross the border herself. Your real birth certificate, her real birth certificate, you.”

Bucky looks over finally, sad smile and all. “Maribel thinks, and now I think, that Ernesto isn’t your real father.”

There are so many questions formulating at the base of your skull that you don’t really take the time to absorb the news. “What did she bring you? What was in those papers?”

Bucky seems startled that your reaction wasn’t one of shock. “Like I said, Maribel’s mother kept a lotta things.” He pauses momentarily before speaking again. “Blood results was one of them. Still trying to authenticate them.  The American was a doctor, after all.”

“A doctor,” you whisper. 

“A doctor. He changed his name but he’s alive. Maribel’s checked.”

“Why would she tell me this now? Why now just hours before the wedding? Isn’t that why you guys didn’t tell me about what was really in the shipment?”

Bucky winces and his expression tells you he’s sorry. 

You continue, “Why now? Why does it even matter anymore?”

He inspects you quickly, scanning your features for any signs of discomfort. “You’re okay? I thought this would surprise you more.”

The chuckle you release is dry, kind of harsh. “It actually answers a fuckload of questions. Like, number one, why he fucking hates me.”

His eyebrows scrunch together. “You think he knows?”

“If he doesn’t, then he’s a super fucking asshole instead of just a fucking asshole.”

Bucky pauses again and smiles up at the sky. The clouds are white and extra large today, and he suddenly remembers the taste of that mini popcorn he had bought and shared with his little sister Becca… Becks… while watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarves at the theater. The salt and butter had stuck to Becca’s fingers and she had wiped them on Bucky’s sweater. He remembers scolding her for that but giving her a napkin in between his giggle fit. He feels the same swell in the meat of his heart listening to you. “We don’t deserve you. You’re like the moon. Always there, shaping yourself into what that person needs, crater after crater beat into you and yet, you move the tides.”

The little snort that leaves your nose hurts a little. “That’s pretty damn poetic for this moment of ‘you’re not the father!’”

Bucky bites his lip and smiles toward the yellow and orange hues. “Like the moon.”

      The hotel had replaced the door, no questions asked. The reason Sam decided to bust open the door instead of using the very functional key you had given Torres? No one knows. But the poor receptionist was told that you couldn’t possibly change rooms because this was top secret business and you absolutely wanted to slap Scott upside the head for worrying her. So they fixed the bolts and gave you all new keys. 

Didn’t matter much anyway since you weren’t sleeping here tonight. You had already packed and made the beds. 

You lay your dress and Steve’s dress attire on the respective beds. The dress sent over was a backless red silk, spaghetti strapped and slit on the left side - you’ve wanted to wear it since it arrived when Scott did. 

Steve knocked before entering the room. You almost laughed at the gentlemanly aspect of it. “Thought for sure they’d have kept you for another hour at least.”

“I gotta change sometime. That your dress?” Steve shrugs off his uniform and climbs on top of his freshly made bed.  

“That’s my dress. Sort of skimpy for a wedding, no?” You hold it up to show him the front and back.

“Does ‘skimpy’ mean bad?”

“Means slutty.”

He gives you this disappointed look, like he’s judging your vocabulary. “I wouldn’t use that word. So no.”

You silently apologize and move the dress over to the end of your bed. Everyone else was also getting ready for tonight. Agents were posing as local police, many infiltrated the wait staff, suits were being double-checked for any malfunctions. There was so much going on, but all was relaxed in your room. Steve smiles at you from his bed, head resting in his palm as he leans up to stare at you. It’s impossible not to blush under his stare, so you move to climb into his bed. You lay down with your feet to his head, the sides of your hips pressing together; just two upside down puzzle pieces. He chuckles and goes to lay on his back, right arm coming up to lay rested on top of your right thigh. 

“All this week I thought I wasn’t ready.” You’ve had no more nightmares. “But I am. I’m ready to end this.”

He runs his fingers delicately along your thigh. “I’m ready to help.” He sighs deeply and cranes his neck to try and meet your gaze. “We’ll make sure they get maximum time.”

“You know that’s not our call.”

“Still.”

You rest for another few minutes, gentle touches calming you. His body is so warm, emitting sweet thoughts like the beginning of spring heat, and it’s impossible not to curl up into it. Steve breaks the comfortable silence, “What are you thinking about?”

You suck in a breath and tell him the truth. “That in the matter of like… five days, you and I are basically lovers now.”

“Lovers?”

“Lovers.”    

He laughs out loud and goes to sit up.  “I intend on taking you out when we get back home.”

Lifting your head, you rest on your elbows and grin at him. “Oh? And where are you planning on taking me?”

He thinks for a second before pressing his lips together and giving up. “I have to ask Peter or Wanda. I have no idea where you go during the day to eat.”

You laugh, “Seriously? I could’ve sworn you tagged along once or twice.”

“Nope. I always refused.”

You frown slightly, “Riiight.” Not wanting to rehash the reasons why, you try to soften any wrong feelings about what that implies. “I’m sure you’ve been, though. I take Bucky places, too. Ask him.”

“Mmm, I have my pride. Can’t have Bucky thinkin’ he knows more about my girl than I do.”

You smile largely now and hope no lipstick rubbed off on your teeth. “Your girl?”

Steve averts his eyes like he’s just now asking for your name and if you’d like to go dancing. There’s a beautiful scarlet glow painting his pale cheeks. “Like I said, I’m taking you out and asking properly.”

“We’ve already surpassed third base. I remember it vividly.”

His smile falls comically and he turns to grab a throw pillow to smack you with it a couple times. “Crude! Crude as always. Goddamn.”

“I’m sorry! Hey, I’m sorry!” 

He stops his attack and pulls you into his chest. He warms your back instantly. “So, you’ll let me take you out?”

“I really, really like french fries,” you hum lightly and tilt your head back to lean into his shoulder. 

“That narrows it down, thanks.”

You chuckle due to his sarcastic tone. He rubs his hands up and down your arms. An idea formulates while in the warmth of his body. “You know what I really want to do after we finish with this?”

“What’s that?”

You tell him honestly. “Rent a cabin. Spend a Christmas there, maybe. Catch some fuckin’ fish. Experience the snow properly.”

His eyebrows furrow like he’s dissecting such a claim. “I… wasn’t expecting that.”

You shrug, “Sounds cool though, right?”

“Got room for one more?” He looks down to meet your gaze and there’s a glint of hope shimmering in the blue of his eyes.

       “Nat… Natasha.”

Natasha took in a sharp exhale as she lifted her head from the desk, left cheek numb and pink. Steve shot her a funny grin and continued shaking her shoulder until she fully opened her eyes. She slaps his hand away with a huff of laughter. 

“Come here to do your laundry? You know, there’s only so many times I can help prevent shrinking shirts.”

Steve scoffs, “I used to do laundry by hand. I can figure out a few buttons.”

“You would think.”

Steve rolls his eyes and bumps her shoulder with the palm of hand before speed-walking into the kitchen. “It’s one of those days.” He opens the high cabinets and pulls a few vodka bottles. 

Natasha pushes down whatever was starting to eat at her. She calms her deep breaths and rises from her chair. No words needed to be exchanged. She makes her way over to pull two glasses from the same high cabinets. 

Steve watches her a little hesitantly, but she has that lopsided smile that pinches through only one cheek and her eyes are the slightest bit swollen from her power nap, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. She tilts her head to the other side of the kitchen, that lopsided grin gracing her bare feet. Steve fumbles through a few cleaning supplies and some plastic bags before he finds the bottle. 

“I hid it after… after Thor had that meltdown a year ago.”

Now, he was second guessing. It was a small bottle, only half left, but half a bottle of Asgardian liquor was enough to knock the God on his knees. For Steve, a few sips would do the same. But he needed it, he needed it, god help him. It’s been four years, he needs it. “Be my designated driver?”

“How about you spend the night? Y/N wanted to start a new show anyway.”

“I’ll be passed the fuck out during the opening credits.”

“But you’ll be here.”

Steve sighs and pops open the bottle. Natasha puts her hand up to stop him from pouring, “Check under that sink again.”

His eyebrows pinch together but he does as instructed. More cleaning products… more cleaning products. He tilts his head to look at the corners and there it was: a small, pink paper airplane taped mid-flight. Steve hunched his shoulders to grab it and crawled out carefully. “You know, you’re not supposed to tell me where you hide them.”

“Well, I felt bad! I’ve found like fifteen of your blue ones and how many do you have of mine?”

“That’s besides the point-”

“Say it. You’ve found six.”

His cheeks turn hot. “I’m not here all the time.”

“Excuses.”

“I leave mine in good spots. You probably got better eyes or something.”

Natasha laughs, loud and from her chest. “Sure. But hey - I’ll promise you somethin’.”

Steve pours the Asgardian liquor into his glass and straight vodka into Natasha’s. “What do you have in mind?”

“You find more than me by the end of this year, and I’ll take that vacation.”

Steve takes his first sip and tries not to pull a hard face. “You’re on. But what if you win?”

Natasha raises her glass and clinks it with his. He wants to apologize for forgetting to toast but her eyes are playful and forgiving. “You come with me. I’m not the only one who needs it.”

“So, I win regardless?”

She takes a sip and pulls a funny face. “Easiest battle, don’t ya think?”

They’re off their right minds twenty minutes into drinking and the common area is chaos. Pillows are thrown, the TV somehow ends up with dozens of fingerprints, and they’ve broken a couple flower pots. The cushions of the couch know Natasha’s bare feet and Steve’s boots; the walls fail to constrict their loud singing; Rhodey has already snuck past them to get himself a snack undetected. 

‘And so I cry sometimes when I’m lyin’ in bed, just to get it all out what’s in my head!’

‘Hit the high note, Rogers!’

‘When you do, I will!... I scream from the top of my lungs-’

‘What’s goin’ on? And I say, ‘hey!’ ‘hey!’ I say ‘hey!’ What’s goin’ on?’

Steve’s still clear-headed enough to twirl Natasha around. She’s flexible enough to climb onto his shoulders.

‘I pray every single day - for a revolution!’

She’s starting to slur her words and Steve wonders if that blond streak in her hair was there last week. 

‘The story of my life! I take her home, 

I drive all night to keep her warm and time, 

Is frozen!

The story of my life, I give her hope, 

I spend her love until she’s broke inside!

The story of my life.’

She can longer feel her toes but seeing Steve let go makes her so incredibly happy and breaks her heart. I needed this too, she thinks.

‘So, bye-bye, Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye

Singin', "This'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die!”’

She’s all muscle and bone and blood and real. What would Steve do without Natasha?

     “You wanna come?”

“Sure. I’ll cut down the trees for wood. Have a real fireplace.” He’s serious, you realize. Like, really truly serious. 

Your heart swells with excitement and some other feeling you can’t quite place. But it’s good, like really good. The sigh you release is full of sweet wonder. “A real Christmas tree.”

Steve tightens his grip around your arms. “December’s right around the corner. Trees should be ready and standing tall.”

It’s almost too much to imagine. You have the sudden urge to talk specifics, to plan out this vacation. A beautiful, rustic cabin with only a coffee maker brought from the outside century, knitted quilts, real snow, Steve’s body heat, Christmas lights… inviting Sam, Scott, Wanda, Peter, and Bucky down for Christmas dinner and presents. A whole sleepover filled with ghost stories, candle burning, board games, Christmas movies. You’re up and tucking your knees under yourself to look down at Steve in an instant. “You’d throw on that checkered shirt, grow out your beard even more, and chop down a few trees for me? With me?”

“There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be,” Steve says, eyes crinkling. For a second, he’s worried you’ll realize that he’s quoted your letter. But that same moment, you’re giggling with excitement over your future plans.

“Well, we lasted a week here without killing each other. The holidays always hold a few surprises.”

Steve picks up another pillow.

       Business is not conducted during the church service. It feels normal, with half the guests attending the service and watching the happy couple exchange vows, while the other half only arrives for the party. 

Jackeline’s dress is modern with a mix of vintage - simple, with long sleeves of lace and fabric that isn’t entirely white but with hints of beige; the dress dips lower in the back than it does in the front, and it’s tight near the waist but loose as it drapes down her long legs. Her hair is left loose and her make-up is heavy, and she illuminates under the sun rays that burst through stained cathedral glass. You don’t even pay mind to Ernesto and Seda seated in the aisle in front of you - not when Jackeline looks the way she does. 

As the service ends, Steve tells you to wait until most of the guests exit. The priest eyes him warily, inspecting his young face and build and obvious persona. He says nothing, but he places a gentle hand over the cross on his chest as he follows the guests out. Steve stands, and out of respect dips his fingers into the holy water provided near the heavy wooden doors. He signs the father, the son, and the holy ghost and dips his fingers in again to sign the same on you. With a silent thank you and tender wipe to your forehead, you don’t question it. He’s not Catholic, or at least you don’t think, but you know he does it for what’s to come. No matter your beliefs, he just wants something, someone, to protect you. You turn back to the cathedral and grip the door as you bend down to one knee and tip your head. 

       Everything is grander, that’s for sure. The decorations are tripled; the violet lights are reflecting like diamonds off every marble and glass surface; the chandelier’s are no longer gold sculptures but diamond; the clay flowers hanging from the ceiling yesterday are now a part of the centerpieces, squeezed in with the largest bouquet of roses and violets; the live bands (because of course there are two) are each still setting up as everyone is getting seated; and there are about fifty round tables circling the large dance floor. There’s still a nice view of the lake and the pine trees ahead, and the tarp was abandoned as there was no rain in the forecast. All in all, and there were a thousand other things you could focus on but didn’t have the energy to, everything was beautifully put together.

Jackeline wasn’t lying when she said half of Mexico was attending. Besides family, there were celebrities in attendance, famous musicians who were simply guests and not performing, family of some of the other biggest drug lords from both countries (minus Europe), and a couple politicians who dipped before the new couple even walked through the doors after seeing Steve. But Steve worked his magic like he had yesterday and had everyone eating out of the palm of hand in pure amazement. He even had a famous actress hanging off his shoulder in under three minutes. Walking away to go congratulate Jackeline, Steve doesn’t miss the quick, sarcastic flick of your middle finger aimed in his direction.  

“You’d tell me if you needed my help, right?” Jackeline asks after a while, bottom lip dripping champagne. She wipes it gingerly, careful not to smudge her pink lipstick. 

“I would if there was anything wrong,” you respond truthfully. She pauses to swallow her sip and squints. She follows your gaze to Steve, whose right arm is being tugged by a girl who looks about twelve with five multi-colored bows trailing down her french braid, and who is also trying hard not to blush at the very attractive actress he can’t seem to get rid of. 

“You’re going to stop him, aren’t you?”

You glance to your left, but it isn’t really a question. Jackeline knows. “Yeah.”

She nods and tilts her chin up, eyes still on Steve. “Make him watch as you burn it down.”  You know she’s referring to Ernesto. She continues, “Every last bit of it.”

Smiling down at your feet, you raise your glass at nothing in particular. Just to salute the night air and whoever is watching. A few seconds pass as you both watch the guests enjoy the music and appetizers. Jackeline shuffles in her heels but she doesn’t seem to want to leave your side just yet. “You run, you understand?”

She’s only momentarily startled by your words. “Okay.”

“I never meant to leave you here, Jackie. I just had to find a way out first.”

“You found a loophole,” she chuckles, but the next moment she’s serious. “There is no way out.”

“Might not be,” you admit, downing your glass in one shot. “But I know this. He can’t hurt you anymore.”     

      You don’t exchange more than a few words with Steve before he’s called by Ernesto’s men and motioned toward those massive dry lava rock doors; doors that don’t muffle sound but are strong enough to withstand a bullet wound. You watch him leave with them, and he shoots you a smile over his shoulder to simply look at you. Your eyes swell only slightly, burning the corners and blurring everything. He’s bright and brilliant, walking head first into Hell and shining like the bolts of Zeus.

Steve has faced giants before, from all backgrounds and all worlds. He has blocked their punches, taken near mortal injuries; stared them in the face with every ounce of anger and determination his cells could produce. There was always this whispered voice in his head that warned him of the last day he would pick up that shield. In 1945, the voice was loud and raging as he drove that nosediving plane into the Arctic. Over the last few years, however, the voice had quieted and let Steve ponder his fate himself. Steve swears the voice, or rather his own conscience, is getting tired. 

He listens intently, responding only when spoken to, and prays his mic is picking up every bit of this conversation. Ernesto commanded the room as he screamed orders in both English and Spanish. His men fell in line; some as determined as the old man, some quiet, some bothered. Didn’t matter what the orders were. Steve noticed the few who would glance at one another and speak their distaste with their wandering eyes. And when Ernesto would speak directly to Steve, the same men would pinch their lips into a thin line and glare. 

The shipment had arrived mid-conversation and as men were sent out to do their jobs, Ernesto kept Steve behind. I need you to stay with me until the shipment is secure and can be moved - you’re my bodyguard, Ernesto had told him, confident and only slightly bending his back in discomfort from the weight of the day. Steve agrees, and hears Bucky mention how they have eyes on the shipment from the sky. 

Steve stays by Ernesto’s side even when Ramirez is called in. He’s prepared for a bloodbath, for two big men to cement their graves in this tiny office, but it doesn’t happen. Or at least, it doesn’t happen yet. Ernesto regards Ramirez as an old friend and finally trusts him enough to tell him what the shipment contained. Steve isn’t surprised, however, when Ernesto takes nasty satisfaction at Ramirez’s horrified expression. Because even though Ramirez had already known, the confirmation adds a multitude of terror. Steve can feel his palms sweating. 

As expected, Ernesto tells Ramirez that he plans to use his lands for his gain. The safe thing to do would have been to agree, to nod along, and to live in the knowledge that the shipment most likely wouldn’t head out. But Ramirez, for some reason Steve can’t fathom, stands up and says no. 

Steve understands now; the odd shaking of your shoulders even when your face was completely blank and emotions calm. He watches the beads of sweat drip from Ernesto’s forehead onto the tip of his nose; he watches the way his chest heaves as his voice becomes louder; he watches until he can’t take anymore and he enlarges the shield with Scott’s tech and tells Ernesto to move away from the other man. Steve understands now - the man really is scary, even if he wants to admit it or not.

      “You really are a phenomenal actor.”

Swaying slowly, you try not to step on Seda’s feet as he guides you across the dance floor. The music is calmer than it was five minutes ago, the guests are enjoying dinner and conversing, and Steve had told you fifteen minutes ago that he would be right back. Ernesto had sent you a malicious wink, but you knew better. Steve’s name was written in blue and Ernesto’s real target had to be you. 

“Acting with what? Acting that I enjoy this dance? Acting like I respect you?” Your upper lip twitches into a teasing smile. “Or acting like I don’t know it was you who planted that bomb?”

He matches your smile, looking down at you with a glint in his eyes. His grip around your waist tightens. “Acting like you’re really on our side.”

Lowering your voice just a fraction, you lean in, top of your head level with his chin. “I’m on Ernesto’s side. You almost had me and my Captain blown up.”

His left hand is settled on your shoulder and he uses the opportunity to dig his nails in. All around him, his men are watching. “How did you get away?”

You give a dry laugh. “You think that was my first bomb? It was childsplay.”

Seda scoffs, “You speak of this Avenger business like I don’t know who you are. You’re still that scared little girl who hid in her room when alien’s fell from the sky.”

“I may be. But there’s a difference between you and I. I actually stared them in this face and won.”

“The second time, maybe”

Sticks and stones, but goddamn did those words always hurt. Blame goes a long way but you and your team are used to keeping it close to home. “Why do you want me dead?”

His scowl deepens and the wrinkles by his eyes crinkle over each other as he squints down at you. “The Avengers are not secretly on our side. Tony Stark never was but Ernesto loves to tell people otherwise. Same about your Captain. You’ve been playing us for years.”

“What evidence do you even have? For years, we’ve done nothing but clear the roads for you,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. 

He unwraps his arm from around your waist and sets both hands around your upper arms. He’s pressing down as hard as he can but still loose enough not to draw unwanted attention. He breathes a sharp exhale, and the puff of air hits your cheeks. “I don’t know what happened to my men after you got what you deserved. They were good men and just like that, erased.” He smirks. “I know you had something to do with it.”

A guest with bright red hair laughs loudly to your side as she is twirled around by her partner. It’s not as vibrant as you’re used to, but you still imagine that lopsided smile you hadn’t seen in forever. “Does it matter? You know what they did, so why is my hypothetical revenge chastised?”

“Tell me right now that none of your Avenger friends did your dirty work. Tell me your Captain’s hands are clean.”

“I promise you, my Captain is clean.” Seda doesn’t show any signs of believing you. Still, your mouth twitches into a mocking smirk. “But our once mutual friends Tony and Natalia tell another story.”

“Am I supposed to believe that two people who are dead are responsible for this? Ironic,” he grits his teeth.

You repeat, clear and true. “My Captain is clean.”

He fakes a tiny gag but you know he means his disgust. “You turned over so quickly for him. For the heroes who destroyed the world. Pathetic.”

“You really need to stop underestimating me,” you practically order, voice full of warning and annoyance. 

Seda continues, “Following orders from a fascist. Following orders from a country that only does harm.”

He turns you around as the dance instructs, a half-hearted waltz that didn’t have a beginning, middle, or end. You take that second to scan your surroundings and weigh your options. “I agree about the country part. But I don’t follow orders from the country, I follow them from my Captain.”

You’re facing him again and in those hellish eyes you see truth. “No, he’s a symbol of everything we hate. Of everything we need to destroy.”

“Touch Steve and I’ll blind you.”

His feet stop mid-step, as do yours. His eyes widen only a little, but it’s all the ammunition he needs. “I knew it.”

It’s barely a whisper, a tickle from a single strand of hair, but you catch it. No longer keeping it a secret, or rather a secret you didn’t care that you let slip, Seda now knows it was all a lie. All this time you had never referred to Steve as anything other than your Captain.

You feel the blunt head of a .22 press against your abdomen as Seda laughs, “You never could get a mission right.”

Twisting his arm and knocking the gun from his loose grip with your wrist was easy. So was catching the gun mid-air and elbowing him in the ribs. Seda falls to the floor in a state of shock, instinctively gripping his chest. You aim the gun at him and like you’ve seen in the movies, place the tip of your heel just below where his belly button would be. He releases a sharp breath and his eyes are challenging, practically begging you to dig deeper and get on with it. 

You can hear the screaming and frantic murmuring from the guests surrounding you and the leveling of guns from Seda’s men. But you’re focused on the man trying so hard not to quiver beneath you, his nasty grin spreading wider. 

“You’re alone,” he bites. “Your Steve is helping Ernesto right now, no? You’re alone.”

Your grin forms slowly, and you’re counting down the seconds you have until his men start firing, but you lean your upper body down slightly to make sure he hears you. “That’s never been a problem before. Don’t you remember?” You click back the safety as discreetly as possible. “I was trained by the Black Widow herself.”

You quickly raise the gun to shoot the closest of Seda’s men in between his collarbones, effectively starting the bloodshed. You jump out the way in a flash, rolling across the floor and behind a table. Tipping the table over is easy and it seems like a smart idea at first, until you realize the tables are all glass. The tablecloth had covered that detail, which sucks like hell, because now the bullets are shattering through and you’re forced to kick yourself away and run behind the pillars instead. The heels are kicked off at the same time you’re fishing underneath your dress. 

A stray bullet hits the pillar’s side making you squeal. It makes you work faster, though. 

Once you find the secure nano-tech ‘button’ (as Scott liked to call it), you strip as quickly as you can and slap the button on your bare shoulder. The nano-tech spirals and threads into itself as intricately as frost spreads on a window, shielding you in both metal and kevlar. 

When a storm of bullets hits the pillar and cracks the marble, you’re forced to crouch and hope Seda’s .22 and the myriad of weapons you’re now equipped with are enough. Before your thoughts can creep into a ‘last man standing’ mode, a roar of wind sweeps across the estate and between the cracked pillars, causing your loose hair to slap your face and blind you for only a second. Quickly putting your hair up and pulling the metal batons from the back of your suit, you’re met with the best sight - one that was a little late, in your opinion. 

“Kind of you to show up!” 

Sam ignores your quip as he flies into three men at once, feet first with his wings extended with the might of a guardian angel. He immediately shields runaway guests who were caught in the middle. He takes the ones on his left, you take the ones on his right. 

You let them swing first. They’re fast and pulling their punches and are clearly aiming for the end result of sticking you to the ground. But you’re quicker and deflect the punches. You manage to deliver a solid punch upward to crack the nose of one. As he reaches up as instinct, his ribs are open season. 

He falls out cold easily after your batons do their damage and the next man isn’t nearly as fast as the first. He doesn’t move enough to his right to avoid the harsh kick to his sternum. Each ambitious kick to the chest seems to demolish the man’s protective wall he’s trying desperately to keep intact, but once you give your legs a break and switch back to the batons, he doesn’t stand a chance. There are bullets raining across the venue, but Sam is shielding you and deflecting them elsewhere. It allows you the freedom to rip into whoever you think deserves it. 

You’ve got two men on your tail and after knocking their weapons from their hands, it seems like a fairer fight. The first doesn’t step back far enough to avoid your roundhouse kick and he falls hard on his ass, gasping for a lick of air. The second is closer, however, and manages to wrap you in a chokehold. Releasing yourself to fall deadweight for only a second, gravity tricks him and you use the momentum to kick up and fly over his shoulders. It’s hard to do without a wall to propel yourself off of. But your abs and thighs are clenched and you don’t quite think you’ll actually end up on this guy’s shoulders but you do. You don’t dwell on that moment of personal pride, though. Tightening your thighs, you use your upper body weight to lean downward and wring his neck. Once he’s down, you sweep your leg around across the floor to trip the other man who was just barely standing back up. With the .22, you fire point blank. 

Detaching yourself from the gore has never been much of a challenge. Eyes rolling back and clouding, limbs dangling limp after having just been full of life, bodies thumping against the floor after eating your bullets - you don’t so much as grit your teeth anymore. 

Sam is dealing with his own mess closer to where that poor cake is now destroyed, vanilla filling exposed and now two stories instead of four. The other cakes are no better. Sam pulls the trigger once more at someone charging at him and he averts his eyes. Sam, however, clenches his jaw. 

“Where’s Seda?” you shout, firing at men who are jumping out from behind tables but giving away their location before they even surprise you. 

“Lost him. I think he’s heading over to Steve!”

You look over the room and pray everyone got out safely. There are no civilians lying in their own puddle of blood, no guests begging for help, but you can never know for sure. “We need more hands. Where the hell are Scott and Bucky?”

A storm of bullets starts crashing into the tables and pillars beside you. Trying to duck doesn’t work and you’re grazed in the left arm. Sam tackles you behind the stage, wings extending further and out bending around you. 

“I’ve been shot!”

Sam can’t help the laugh that erupts from his throat because of your dramatic tone. “You’ve been grazed. The nano-tech has already rebuilt itself.”

“I don’t care, I hate being shot. It’s not nice. I’ve been hit.”

“Dramatic.”

“Y/N?” a harsh whisper sounds from under the stage tables. Watching your eyes bulge paints a mournful expression on Jackeline’s face. Julian is right beside her, pistol out but not shooting. You wonder if he knows you’re the invader.

“What in the hell are you still doing in here? I told you to run!”

“I’m sorry,” Jackeline squeals as bullets continue firing. “Everyone crowded. I was scared so I just got down.”

“Sam.”

Sam nods, already reading your mind. You had to find Steve; you couldn’t stay here. But there’s bullets still blazing in your direction and you find yourself hopping on your ass slightly each time a bullet connects to the ground beside you. The nano-tech does great in deflecting the lead but it really isn’t an invitation to get shot more times. The graze on your arm is already starting to burn. 

“Sam is going to guide you both out of here, alright? Julian, cover her. Sam will cover you.”

There’s a war going on behind Julian’s eyes. His face does a thousand things at once as he hears your orders and the scream of guns combined, but he nods. He grips Jackeline’s waist and pulls her in close, but before they can begin crawling Jackeline turns back to you. 

“Mátalo. Okay? Para nosotras dos.” She’s got this fierce determination in her eyes and her accent is as thick as can be. 

“Okay.”

Sam relays his location over his mic and who he has behind his wings, but before he can safely guide the married couple down the stage, a new wave of men enter and open fire. Sam’s wings can only take so much, and even though they’re vibranium, his suit is not. Ducking behind the table and reloading your gun, you then lift your head over to view the scene. It’s a mess and you could surely take them down hand-to-hand if you were close enough, but you’re stranded with your batons and seven bullets and a world of automatic machinery pointed at you. 

The storm of bullets pauses and every single person looks up to the sky. You thank the Gods for no rain today because the absence of a tarp allows for the quinjet to settle over the chaos and create a much needed distraction. Sam takes his leave, wings still wrapped around your sister, and you do the same. Running from behind the stage with batons lit up and tazed, you knock out the closest men. They fall in a strangle of electricity, vibrating and convulsing as each shock travels through their veins, ultimately paralyzing them for however long it turns out to be. This gains the attention of almost everyone else but before they can train their weapons back toward you, the back of the quinjet opens. There were a few tables still standing and it seemed the super soldier liked them better than the flat floor. 

The glass shatters from the impact of Bucky’s weight, glasses of champagne and plates with unfinished meals folding onto the shards. He’s dressed in his tactical gear and a dark navy blue jacket without a trusty sleeve. Even if the arm was covered and his hair was long rather than the short length it was now, the men would certainly know who just fell from the sky. Almost immediately, the men scatter. Bucky takes them down one by one, shot after shot, and decides to use his knives for the ones who don’t run. It’s tricky, but he manages to lodge his knives in the base of the spines of those who later changed their minds. 

He catches your eye after you manage to snap the neck of one of the runners. He tilts his head toward the left and watches you run to give Steve the backup he needs. 

     The mansion seems longer, wider, just generally bigger as you rush through the rooms and halls to get to Steve. The stuffed exotic animals follow your gaze and you can’t ignore them for long. There are men following you and men leaving Ernesto. You duck behind the standing polar bear and wait until the footsteps sound farther. Checking the amount of bullets in your gun, just in case, you finally flick the safety off and run.

There’s really only one thing of importance floating around the padded confines of your skull - get Steve out. Another thing you two had in common: both sacrificial idiots. But there wasn’t any way that you would give up the chance to save his life, as he would yours. Didn’t matter if the man you were protecting him from was your father or not. It hadn’t really settled, hadn’t truly digested, and you didn’t think it ever would. Because for years, this man was your father. He was the only man with that title. He wasn’t fatherly, far from it, but he had the label and that’s what you were going to focus on. It made no difference. 

You push the office door open and start stuttering over your words. You want to ask what happened, why there’s so much blood, whose blood it is, but all that comes is a fractured series of what the hell’s? The last syllables push through with necessary force, hardly intelligible, but exhaled at last. 

Ernesto is kneeling with his head hanging low and his hands behind his back, defeated. But it isn’t Steve who’s holding a gun to the back of his head - it’s Seda. 

No, Steve is in the corner clutching at his right hip and gritting his teeth, a wild look on his face that tells you he too was blindsided. He’s hurt. He’s gasping and wincing at the slightest of movements and it ignites the flame you’ll use to burn this world to the ground. It’s splitting your fucking ribs apart. 

“Don’t move!” Seda yells, gun still locked on Ernesto’s head but eyes on you. “Put the gun down.”

“Seda-”

“Put the fucking gun down!” 

Biting your tongue, you flip the gun in your hand so it’s facing downward and move to gently place it on the table. Flicking your eyes to where Steve is, you get your answer as to why he’s been so easily shot. His massive body and shield are draped over Ramirez, who is also disarmed and pissed. 

The self-righteous idiot, you think, he’s always gotta save the little guy.

“We’re gonna talk about this like the gods we are, yeah?”

Your face pulls awkwardly, “Seda, what is happening?”

“Don’t act like you’ve been on this asshole’s side the entire time now,” Seda bites, shoving the head of the gun harshly into the base of Ernesto’s neck. “Go on, tell him.”

“The shipment was intercepted,” you tell him. But you’re not just telling Seda, no, it’s the first Steve is hearing the good news and it allows him to feel a bit of relief. “You’ve both lost.”

“What have you done?” Ernesto screams, cheeks vibrating and face red with anger. He pays no mind to the gun and dares to glare at you. “Tell me!”

The top of your lip greets a run of tears and snot and it isn’t until then that you realize your hands are shaking mid-air and your throat is closing. “My mission.”

Blood or not, this man had the power to tie your thoughts into knots. He only had this power at precious moments and sadly, this was turning out to be one of them.

Seda bites out a laugh - it’s wet and bloody and scares you half to Hell. “I’m not the only one here who wants to kill you. But I’m going to beat her to it. She brought you back, I can’t have that.”

“No!” You curse inwardly at your involuntary hiccup. “We’re not here to kill you!”

“Oh?” Seda raises the gun at you. “What’s the endgame? Que mas necesitas?”

“I don’t need anything. The shipment is intercepted. The estate is on lockdown. Your routes are down. You’re cornered. It’s over.” You let your shoulders drag just a little. “For both of you.”

Surprisingly, Seda doesn’t pull the trigger when Ernesto charges toward you. He doesn’t pull it when Ernesto wraps his hands around your throat, either. 

It’s instinct for you to hold out your hand to stop Steve from doing what he does best. He’s already halfway up and wincing with each push to help you, to rip Ernesto from your capable body, but Seda clicks the gun in his direction. Steve watches the way your arm extends, all five fingers spread in a hopeless plea of ‘don’t you sacrifice yourself for me, don’t you dare’. 

“I have done nothing but help you! I put food on the table and clothes on your worthless back! You spent my money!” Ernesto’s eyes are practically bulging and his thumbs are almost crushing your windpipe, but his placement is off. You can still breathe air, no matter how bruising his grip may be. “This is how you treat me? I should have killed you all those years ago. I should have ripped you limb by limb until your cries bled!”

“Please,” you whimper out, hand still extended toward Steve and the other attempting to push Ernesto by the chest. 

“Please? Please? Te voy a matar aquí, ahora, porque siempre te lo mereciste!”

You let out a strangled scream and are about to fight back. To save yourself and to end Steve’s suffering of watching you suffer, of watching his newfound hope dwindle right before him, when a gunshot erupts. Everyone screams, ears ringing, and there’s blood splattered all over your cheeks and neck, spots and leaks that trail down into the collar of your bodysuit. A heavy weight lands on you and knocks you back into the shelves. You hold Ernesto’s now limp body as best you can, knees locking painfully. There’s a massive hole where the top of his head should be and for the first time in years, you have to look away to keep from throwing up. 

“Dejalo.”

You open and close your mouth but regret it when the taste of copper lands on your tongue. You follow Seda’s order and drop Ernesto to your feet, the thud sending a shiver up every single one of your vertebrae. 

“Por qué hiciste eso?” you ask him, voice small. You choke on another hiccup. 

“Don’t lie to me and say you weren’t going to do it yourself.”

You look over at Steve. His eyes are just as wide as yours and the same red specks, now turning brown, are tainting the flush pink skin of his beautiful neck. 

“No,” you whisper. Steve hears your lost accent returning and it clutches at his heart. 

“It was for the best.” Seda marches over to grab Ramirez by the tie, ripping him up from the ground and pointing the gun to his head. Steve lunges forward and Seda fires another bullet into the same hip. 

“No!” Your throat is raw, scratched, and Steve hits the floor in another heap of muffled groans. Seda returns the aim on Ramirez. 

“Imagine my surprise when I saw this one confronting Ernesto with your Captain. Imagine my fucking surprise when I tried to find all our passports, all our files, and nothing was here! Imagine my surprise when I saw that fucking idiot White being taken away by one of your agents!”

“Seda, please.” You were never much of a negotiator. It was always go in and let the others do the talking. Steve was the talker, he was the negotiator, but he was out of his element. He was always the enemy to Seda. He could never convince him otherwise. 

“You’ve given me new purpose,” Seda grins and Ramirez is rather calm in his arms, like he accepts this. “Look at the crime scene. I’m using the gun Ramirez got from your team. My men are still loyal.”

He pauses and smiles with all teeth, blood in between most of them. “You shot Ernesto. You shot your Captain. You shot Omar.”

The frightened look on your face seems to fuel him even more. He continues, “We’ll never stop hunting you.”

“Try it,” Steve manages, standing up again and vaguely registering the flash of light to his right. His shield is no longer there. “You’ll have to kill me to win. You’ll have to kill all of us to win. Me, Y/N, Omar, Sam.” He breathes in deep but smiles. “The Winter Soldier.”

You swear Seda’s face pales but his grip around Ramirez’s waist only tightens. “Easy.”

“It won’t be,” you finally say, voice no longer wavering. There’s no plausible way Seda could win. But one thing is fact: whether they’re Seda’s or Ernesto’s men, they’ll never stop hunting you now. “You lost, Seda.”

All stills but there are shouts and the ring of gunshots still echoing near the lake. 

“No,” Seda looks to you and to Ernesto’s body. “I didn’t.”

He aims the gun at you and fires. 

Steve’s wail is grease to the fire in your soul and you accept whatever pain might hit. There’s space and then there isn’t. There’s emptiness and then there’s a space being filled by that horrid but lifesaving shield. There’s no one and then there’s Scott, blown up to his regular size with shield in hand and in front of you. The bullet bounces off the shield easily and hits the wall. You’re pushed into motion and in about two seconds, you’ve grabbed your gun again and do not hesitate to fire. The bullet hits Seda in his exposed chest and Ramirez fumbles to get the gun from him. Seda hits the floor and no one else follows. 

The shot hits its target perfectly. Seda doesn’t so much as stutter. 

“God,” Scott grumbles, eyes trying to focus on anything other than the pools of blood. “Was I late?”

You don’t pay any mind to Scott and rush over to Steve, where he’s barely holding himself up with his hip tilted on the edge of the desk.  “Steve? Steve. Did he hit anything important?”

“Besides the fuckin’ meat of my stomach?”

There isn’t a way to see beneath the kevlar, but your fingers have a mind of their own as they try to dig in. “You know what I mean.”

Steve huffs a laugh and gently slaps your fingers away. “No, but motherfuck me Christ, I get shot way too much and it hurts no less.”

“Was the shield not enough? You had to sacrifice your one-hundred year old hips? Are you hit anywhere else?”

“I was caught off guard. What about you? I heard over the mics that you were shot and-”

“Are you two done?” Scott interrupts, clearing his throat awkwardly but half a mind still paying attention to his own mic. 

It’s like you’re snapped back to reality. There’s not only Steve but others, alive and dead, and the smell of copper is all too familiar.  “Sorry, I’m still in shock. I don’t really know how to proceed from here.”

“Y/N-” Scott tries, but you resume.

“We were supposed to arrest them. Just arrest them.”

“Okay, I think we should get you outta here,” Steve acts like he’s the one guiding you, but his weight is falling. You faintly register a phone ringing in the room but Steve, ever so persistent, is still acting like he is holding you up. He lunges forward with a sharp wince, and your hand immediately goes to his hip. 

“Captain.”

Ramirez lowers his phone, call ended, and he wears an expression Steve recognizes immediately. It’s an expression that looks all too similar to Dugan’s when he relayed the news of enemy forces breaching their base. “...How many?”

“They’ve already sent the news to their men in Mexico.”

“Have they shut down the border?”

“It wouldn’t make a difference.”

“They don’t know two of their men are dead, so we can-“

Scott shakes his head, shield still in hand with specks of blood drying on the blue stripe. “They know White was arrested. That’s all they need. They’ll assume the rest, the worst.”

You sigh, “Seda was right.”

Scott literally pouts and he looks like he wants to wrap you in his arms. “No, don’t send yourself there.”

Steve, however, agrees with you. “If they know about White, then they know about Omar. Seda had time to tell his men.”

“Then we make sure he’s arrested and taken to a secure facility. We can keep an eye-” Scott starts, but you shut him down quickly.

“He’s wanted by the US government, not the Avengers. We can only transport him. We can’t guarantee his safety.”

Ramirez gives a small smile. “Mija, voy estar bien. No te preocupes.”

“I don’t know.”

Scott looks between the three of you. He places the shield against the wall near the door. He raises his eyebrows at Steve and looks to his wounds, but Steve waves him off. Reluctantly, Scott nods. “I’m gonna go check on Sam.”

There’s a pool of blood near your boots. You don’t want to know if it’s from the dead or from Steve.  

“Doll, what are you thinking?”

He can’t hurt you anymore. “That I need you to go, too.”

Steve forgets about the pain in his hip and focuses solely on you. “What?”

“Go. If there’s one more thing you can do for me and my reckless family, go check on Sam.”

“You know I can’t leave you here alone with him.”

Your voice is steady and calm and it’s scaring Steve. It’s scaring him. “I promised myself that you wouldn’t be hurt by this mission. I stand by it.”

“I promise, Captain, I have no resentment. Whatever she does, I will follow,” Ramirez speaks, and Steve doesn’t even pay him a glance. 

“I can’t just go.”

“Steve,” you interlock your fingers behind his neck. “Please. Listen to me.” He looks so confused, a million questions flying through his mind and almost escaping those sweet pink lips. Fierce, you whisper for only him. “He can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

He relishes the feeling of your soft hands behind his neck. They’re bloody, but yours. His neck is bloody, but you don’t seem to care. “Two minutes.”

“Two minutes,” you confirm.

He pulls from your hold and turns to leave. He picks up the shield. Before he leaves, he grips the doorway and looks over his shoulder, eyebrows pinched and jaw tense. “Two minutes, I swear to Almighty Christ, Y/N. I’m coming back for you.”

You smirk, the dim light from the office lamps creating nothing short of a sparkle in your eyes. “I don’t expect anything less, Rogers.”

Steve hesitates for a moment and then he walks away. Once his footsteps are no longer heard, you turn back to Ramirez. There’s a voice in your head telling you this was a bad idea and that you were an idiot to have your back turned on him for so long, but Ramirez is simply leaning on one of the chairs and grimacing at the bloody scene before him. 

“Remember when Ernesto bought you that car when you were thirteen? And then another when your brother crashed it?”

Your nose pinches, “I don’t feel like reminiscing when he’s lying right there.”

“Do you remember what you told me when he bought you that second car? The sports one?”

You sigh. Ramirez was clearly going to continue speaking. “‘No lo quiero. Soy una niña. Get rid of it.’”

“And I did.”

“You did.”

He smiles, and for the first time you notice all the gray hair dusting his head, the most by his temples. There's a limp in his step too but you can’t remember if he had before or after the wedding. “I’ll get rid of this.”

“What?” you blink, unsure if you heard him right.

“I’m already a traitor. If I spin this, you can continue the mission. You can arrest even more of his men. They’ll come after me instead of you.”

It’s what he’s been trained to do. It’s what he’s done since he transported his first shipment. It’s what he’s done time and time again for Ernesto, for Seda, for some of his own careless men. He’s numb to it, just as you were a few days ago, but now you can’t stop thinking about the aftermath. Where would he put their bodies? Would they be buried here or back in Mexico? Would people really care if Ernesto was dead? They didn’t seem to care when he was snapped out of existence. But Ramirez has this sag in his shoulders that tells you he’s already calculating the best way to wrap the bodies and how deep he plans on sending them… or burning them. Burning them was always easier. 

“They’ll come after your family. Your daughters.”

He shakes his head, “I’ve ensured their safety. They’re safe.”

Against your better judgement, you tap your mic discreetly and turn it off. “I can’t let you take one for the team.”

He chuckles, “I’m a part of your team? I’m an Avenger?”

You can’t help but laugh with him. It’s not a light moment, but it’s a moment nonetheless. “Sure, Omar. But we don’t trade lives.”

“I had this coming.”

“No, you didn’t. You don’t.” Straining your ears and shutting your eyes, you mumble a quick prayer in hope that this plan of yours worked. You pass Ramirez your own gun and speak low. “Go.”

He’s shocked and he stutters. “Que haces? Que esta pasando?”

“There’s no one on the east side right now. All the guests were moved to the front. It’s clear. But not for long.” Pushing him to the door, you make sure he’s not leaving any bloody footprints behind. He’s clear. “Go.”

“This will kill us both.”

“But it will give us a head start.”

“No puedo hacer eso! No quiero hacer eso.”

“Omar, they’re not going to protect you once you’re charged. I can’t protect you then. So I need you to go.” You reach into your suit and pluck that random Roman coin you had stolen just a few days earlier. It was a token of good luck but you didn’t need it anymore. You avoid looking at the carving for fear that the likeness to Steve will make you change your mind. You place it in Ramirez’s hand and clench his fist shut.  “If there’s one thing you can do for my stupid, anti-hero mentality, go.”

“Que hago con esto?”

“No me llamas. But let me find this.”

He looks at you with pity. It’s so much pity and understanding for your situation that you have to look away. “I owe you my life.”

Eyesight now on the wall over his shoulder, you offer him a thin smile. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

He stumbles at first, unsure if this is really happening, and finally passes by. “Y/N.” 

You figure it’d be pretty rude not to answer. You turn slowly. He continues, face somber and head shaking with so much pity. “The amount of Hell that’s coming...”

It’s funny, really. You shoot him that famous smile you were known for. It tricks him like it’s supposed to. “I’m already going to Hell for the lives I’ve taken and the crimes I’ve committed. But the journey to my fate has been worth it.”

     The estate is being swept as quickly as possible. There are agents dressing wounds, reading rights, snapping photos, on the phone, etc. It’s organized chaos and there’s so much happening but it’s never impossible to catch Steve’s side profile in a crowd. His nose is pinched up and he’s dealing with his wounds himself. No one is even looking at him. 

Speed walking to him, you hook your arm in his and turn him around. He’s too tall, and your toes strain as you rise on them, but you wrap your arms around his neck anyway. He returns the gesture and squeezes you as hard as you’re squeezing him. After a few seconds, he whispers quietly.

“Where’d Ramirez go?”

If he saw your eyes, he would know you were lying. You keep your arms in place. “He got away.”

He tries to push you away but fails. “Y/N.”

“He got away,” you repeat. Slowly, regretfully, you pull back.  “We should go.”

There’s a horrible crease in between his eyebrows and he knows he’s caught you in a lie, but he also knows that if there was one thing he knew most about you, it was that you were just as stubborn as he was. Quick with wit, always asking to be punched, and stubborn to the point it made strangers worry. So he doesn’t question it, and turns with you in the direction of the jet.  “Maribel has the safehouse set up. Montana.”

“You sure you can make it to the jet? Should I get Bucky to come with us?”

The quinjet is empty except for a few supplies, a medical bag, and Friday. There are only two seats and by the way Steve’s bending over to show his true pain, you’d be flying it. Once you land, you can fish out those bullets.

“No one else.” Steve bites. He can’t risk anyone else - hell, he doesn’t even want to risk you. “I’ll protect you.”

You board the jet and watch as the trees sway in rhythm to the movements of everyone doing their job. It’s dark, and you push the fact that you’re so horribly night blind to the back of your skull, and it’s starting to eat away at you that the mission didn’t really go as planned. No one seems to notice yet that you never brought them the two main players they were hoping for. It only makes you close the quinjet faster. You sit Steve down in one of the seats and kneel before him. “And I you.”

If anyone asked, Steve would lie and say he was tearing up because of the bullets piercing his skin in half.  To protect and be protected. 

“Let’s go.”

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

[samthemarvelfan]

Goodbyes: Chapter Seven

Summary: Ella Monroe is the Avengers newest recruit, handpicked by Steve Rogers himself. Indebted to him for reasons unknown, Cap pairs her up with Bucky Barnes. He is tasked with training her to relearn and hone the skills that have long since rusted. Bucky is cold and distant, and Ella can’t seem to break through the wall he’s built up for decades. He sees something in her though, and it scares him to death. Has the fate of these two strangers been sealed? …or will they always be longing…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, feat Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark

Warnings: DARKER THEMES AHEAD. Angst, Bucky is a dick, mutual pining, self sabotage, PTSD, Fluff! Mentions of Panic attacks, flashbacks, and vomiting Def not following a specific MCU canon or timeline.

A/N: WOW! I am so grateful for all the love! Thank you so much @captain-rogers-beard for taking the time to not only read, but enjoy and reblog my work! i am honored! Please enjoy this hastily written chapter. (life is hard, but i love yall so much(

Taglist:@iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @heartofagamotto​  (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry! Tags are OPEN!)

Bucky should have kissed her.

When he woke up, it was the only thing on his mind. He would do just about anything to turn the clock back, so he could grab her face in his hands and feel her pillowy lips against his.

Just imagining it sent a familiar heat to Bucky’s lower abdomen.

“Hey Iceman, what’s up?” Sam said as he entered the training room.

Bucky looked up, shaken out of his daydream, “Hey Sam, hows it going?”

Sam feigned a look of shock, “Wow you’re in a good mood this mornin’! Any particular reason why? Hm?”

Bucky smiled to himself as he moved equipment to make space, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Sam laughed, “Whatever you say, just tell me one thing—y’all fuck yet or what?”

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, “What?”

“You and Ella. Did you guy fuck yet?”

His causal tone threw Bucky for a loop. Bucky swallowed hard and shook his head, “Sam it’s not..I don’t...I’m just—“

“See that’s your problem right there,” Sam interjected, “you don’t know what the hell you want with that girl, but you know you want her. I’ve seen you guys in a room together, the sexual tension is off the charts.”

Bucky laid mats down in the center of the room, “Sam, she’s just a—“

“A recruit. Yeah I know, but if you think for one second I believe that’s all you see her as then Iceman, I got some baaaad news for you.”

Sam took a sip from his water bottle, taking in Bucky’s expression. He looked happy on the surface, but Sam saw the dissatisfaction wading underneath.

“Bucky,” Sam called. He only ever used his name when he was serious. “Why are you so hard on that girl? It’s so obvious you two are crazy about one another. Why are you pushing her away?”

Bucky looked up to Sam, and simply shook his head. “I’m not good. For her or anybody else...but especially her.”

Sam look at him confused, “What the hell is that suppose to mean?”

Bucky sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Don’t you think I would love to be a guy who could have a girl like that on my arm without worrying I might kill her? That I could take her out somewhere and not have this constant paranoia hanging over my head like a guillotine ready to drop at any second?”

Bucky hadn’t said these thoughts out loud to anyone, not even Steve. “Sam she’s...she’s everything I want but can never have. I gotta keep my distance, but she makes it impossible. I’m mean to her, downright cruel, and boy, does she give it back to me...” Bucky smiled and let out a chuckle at the thought.

“But she’s kind. She’s so sweet and genuine and I-I’m a time bomb. Ella...she’s been through hell and back. I don’t want her to have to go through anything like that again.”

Sam stood in front of his friend, seeing the pain in his eyes. He sighed taking a step toward Bucky, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Does she make you happy?”

Bucky looked up confused, “Did you not just hear m—“

“Does. She. Make. You. Happy?” Sam repeated.

Bucky nodded slowly, “She makes me feel alive again. After feeling nothing for almost a century.”

Sam nodded to himself. “If I were you Barnes? I wouldn’t push away my chance at happiness. Who knows? You might be her chance too.”

You look through the doors to the training room and see Sam with Bucky.

Is he passing me off to Sam again? You think.

You take a deep breath and push the door open. They stop their conversation and Sam turns to you.

“What’s up, Punchline? How you doin’?” He asks happily.

You can’t help but smile, his grin is infectious. “Hey Sam, you joining in on the fun today?” You ask, hoping for a regretful answer.

Sam shakes his head, “No, apparently Barnes wants you all to himself. Isn’t that right, Iceman?”

You look to Bucky whose gaze is unwavering, “Ella needs an actual trainer, not a comedian with a whistle.” He jests.

Sam’s jaw drops open slightly and you let out a small giggle.

“Alright, alright. I see when I’m not wanted. Catch ya later, Punchline. And Barnes, I’ll see you in hell.” He flips Bucky off on his way out the door, and you can’t help but laugh.

A few moment pass as a comfortable silence falls over the room. You try not too, but you can’t help but remember the last time you were here. When you were alone with Sergeant Barnes, and what happened.

When he almost killed you.

He noticed the sudden discomfort in your eyes. “Hi, Els.” His smooth, honey voice calls to you; drawing you in.

“Hey, Sarge.” You reply kindly.

He steps forward, testing the waters. “Bucky.” He says.

You look at him confused. “What?”

“Bucky. Use my name. Please.” He says quietly.

“But I thought—“

“I like your voice. The way you say my name...I like it.” His boldness takes you by surprise, but nonetheless you smile.

A small nod, “Bucky.” You say happily.

He smiles back, a real genuine smile. One of the first you think you’ve seen from him.

“Where’s your sling, Doll?” He asks concerned.

“Oh,” you say baring your bandage covered shoulder to him. “When I woke up this morning, my shoulder was...I don’t know. It feels...different? The wound itself still hurts but somehow, it feels healed.”

Bucky’s brow furrows, “Can I?” He gestured to the bandage, and you nod.

He gently sweeps your hair behind your shoulder, rubbing circles on the exposed skin.

When he pulls back the bandage he can’t help but be a little curious.

“Have you ever been injured like this before?” He asks, replacing the bandage.

You shake your head. “No, when I was...where I was, they were very careful not to hurt me this bad.”

“Why’s that?” He asked.

You smile sadly, “Can’t use a punching bag with a hole in it, can you?”

A flash of anger dances in Bucky’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Doll.”

You shrug, “I can’t change the past, no point in living in it.” You push the flashbacks out as they threaten your mind once again. You’re not going to ruin this. Not this time.

Bucky strokes your arm a few times, before his hand grasps at yours loosely. “When HYDRA had you, Steve said they experimented on you?”

He asks like he’s afraid of both your reaction and your answer.

You nod. “Yeah. They injected me with so many solutions and serums. I have no idea what any of it was or did.”

Bucky smiled softly and gently thumbed your knuckles. “Well whatever it was, one of them must have helped you with healing. Steve and I share that trait too. Cuts heal in hours, fractures and breaks in a few days.”

You nod thoughtfully to yourself. “Huh, finally a perk from those assholes.”

He dropped your hand softly, “We’re gonna take it easy still...I don’t wanna push you too hard.”

A laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“What?” Bucky asks curiously.

“Who are you and what have you done with the real Sergeant Barnes?” You ask sarcastically.

Without missing a beat, Bucky steps into you, cupping your cheek with his hand. The pad of his thumb is swept over your cheekbone tenderly, prickling your skin with goosebumps.

“I’m trying to be me. The real me. We got off to a terrible start and that’s my fault. I’m sorry.” His voice is so genuine and honest, it takes you by surprise.

“You like keeping me on my toes, huh?” You ask.

He nods fondly, “I could say the same about you, ya k now.”

Silence crept into the room, blanketing the air you shared with him. Suddenly, you can’t help but look to his lips.

It would be so easy to kiss him, too easy. You look down to Bucky’s feet hoping to shake the eagerness from your bones, but it doesn’t help.

“Look at me, Els...” he coaxes you.

You catch his gaze again, and your breathing hitches in your chest.

“I’m gonna earn your trust, Doll. I promise.” Bucky whispers.

Before you had the chance to reply, a chime echoed in the room.

“Excuse me, Sergeant Barnes you’re needed urgently in briefing room C.” FRIDAY’s accent called out.

He looked confused for a moment, “On whose order?”

“Mr. Stark’s.” It was a simple reply, but a telling one nonetheless.

Bucky looked at you quickly, “Let’s go.”

On your way back to the compound, you couldn’t help the nervous feeling in your stomach. Since Tony retired, he never helped out for missions. He came in a few times a month to check on the property and get debriefings from the staff, but his main job was being a Dad.

That’s why when you heard it was him calling for Bucky, you knew something was up.

“What do you think it is?” You asked Bucky, shoving your hands deep in your pockets.

The elevator doors opened and Bucky ushered you out, placing his hand on the small of your back.

“Not sure, but if Tony’s involved it can’t be good.”

As you approached the room, you saw Cap, Bruce, Sam and Wanda at the table, Tony heading the meeting.

You slowed, allowing Bucky to walk ahead of you.

“Come on, Doll.” He said matter-of-factly.

You shook your head, “They didn’t ask for me.”

Bucky chuckled, “Just come on.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. 

The room got instantly quiet. “Look who decided to join us...” Sam jested.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve said kindly.

You sat in the chair by the door, ready to leave if you were asked too. Why should you be here? You’re not an Avenger—or whatever these guys are called now.

“We all know why we’re here. They’re back. This time it seems like for good.” Tony spoke.

He pressed a button on the console, projecting a hologram above the table.

It showed an aerial image of some kind of camp, though fortress would probably be the better word. You stared at the image, when your stomach suddenly dropped. Your skin prickling and clammy before you had time to think.

“Where is this?” Wanda asked.

“Romania.” You whispered.

All eyes were suddenly on you. “Ella? You know this place?” Steve asked.

You nodded subtly, “Y-yeah. I—excuse me.”

Feet carrying you faster than your body wanted, you ran from the conference room. Opting for the stairs instead of the elevator, you run down the several flights to the living quarters.

Luckily, you made it to your bathroom before you were sick. Unable to stop the dry heaving and shaking, you knew there was no point. You’d successfully avoided the flashbacks for over a year, stealing your mind had become second nature, but this...this was too much.

The light headed feeling over took you as you laid in your bed. You desperately drank water, hoping to calm your nerves, but nothing was helping. This was a panic attack, one of the worst you could remember.

“Ella? Ella open up.” Steve’s voice was outside your room, muffled by the door.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move.

“FRIDAY?” You heard him ask. The A.I. didn’t respond, she simply unlocked the door.

You were in the fetal position now, hugging the pillow desperately to your chest.

“Ella.” He said, moving his hand to stroke your back. His touch elicited a fight or flight response you’d been denying for months. You instinctively began kicking and punching him.

“No! No! Don’t take me! Don’t touch me! Stop!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. Steve wasn’t there. You were suddenly back in Romania, in the cell you’d been kept in. The faceless men of your mind were there, touching you. Stabbing you. Hurting you.

“Ella no! Please it’s me, it’s Steve. You gotta fight it, Ella.” He tried you comfort you. “You’re safe, Ella, I promise you’re safe!”

Without warning, the faceless men vanished. Revealing a panicked Steve, sat just inches from you on your bed.

Oxygen filled your lungs once again, as you began to come down from your panic attack.

“Steve?” You question.

He nodded, stroking your hair. “It’s me. You’re safe. It’s me.” He pulled you in for a hug.

You blinked the tears out of your eyes, “Oh my God. Steve, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

He shook it head, “Stop that. Stop that right now, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. I didn’t know you’d be coming in with Buck, I wouldn’t have let them show that had I known...”

“No, I can’t be put in this bubble and hidden away my whole life! It’s not your fault, it just took me off guard, I haven’t seen that place...thought about it in so long I just...” your voice drifted off as you wiped your eyes.

The camp was where you’d been held--where you’d been taken from your family and hidden away all those years ago.

It took a while, but you’d calmed down. People kept coming to check on you, but Cap would kindly move them along, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

It seemed everyone had come to see you, except one person. The one person you actually wanted to see.

“Cap? Where’s Bucky?” You ask innocently

Steve sighed, “Bucky’s been sent ahead of the rest of us.”

Your eyes widened, “Sent? Sent where? Not Romania. Steve he can’t do this alone he can’t, they’ll—“

“We’re headed there tonight. In just a few hours in fact.” He replied, cutting you off.

You stood from your bed grabbing your pistol from the night stand. “Let’s go now, he needs backup.” You’re desperately trying to hide the panic in your voice.

“Ella no, we’re going. You’re not ready for this.” Steve stood from you bed as well, what does he mean not ready?

“Steve I can’t just sit here and—“

“You can and you will. That’s an order, Ella. It’s clear you need more time to heal, both mentally and physically.” Steve put a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You said it yourself, you need time. I want you to take it.”

The wind had been knocked out of you. You nod at Steve somberly, accepting his words for what they were; orders.

A few hours after Steve had left, you hear the rumble of the Quinjet take off from the roof. Despite the lack of worry in his voice, you could help the awful feeling in your stomach, telling you something terrible was going to happen...

and you couldn’t do anything about it.

You worried for Bucky, but despite your worry you couldn't help wonder why he just left. Why he wouldn't come check on you, or at least say goodbye. He just...left.

You flopped on the couch in the common room, flicking mindlessly through the channels. Tonight would bring nothing but sleepless bouts and nightmares.

You shut the tv off and stare at the ceiling, unsure of when, or if you’d see Bucky Barnes again.

Chapter Eight: Light Bulb

[lilulo-12fanfiction]

Heart Of The Matter

Heart of the Matter- Bucky Barnes x Reader

Requested by @darkness-in-bright with prompts:

46. “Are you decent?” “Not morally, but I am wearing pants, if that’s what you’re asking.

126. I really want to talk to you. And not through the door.

138. “You don’t get to say anything to me!”

So for the purposes of this story- Tony didn't die, Steve isn't an old man. End Game had a happier ending. Reader is Tony’s daughter...because we all know my sheer OBSESSION with Stark readers and OCs. She was about 15 at the time of the first Avengers movie so if I did my math right...With the End Game time jump she should be 27ish. If I’m wrong...pretend I’m not. This is like 7K words and I’m not even sorry. 😂

As always likes, comments and reblogs are SO APPRECIATED. Requests are open (Avengers, Supernatural, TVD/The Originals. I do dabble in some Green Arrow and The Flash (DC TV Only please). Prompt list can be found here. 

Please let me know if you would like to be added to this tag list or one of my others. 

Avengers Tag List: @shreddedparchment @fanfictionjunkie1112@this-is-mycrisis

Avengers Masterlist

As Tony Stark’s daughter, people treated you differently your whole life. You were always catered to, and you kind of hated it. It took you a long time to come to terms with the fact that you would never have a normal life. When you were 12, Tony was kidnapped. The video of him that the kidnappers sent still plagued your dreams to this day. When you finally got him back and he came out as Iron Man, that had made you give up your dream of having any normality; You were happy to let it go, you couldn’t have been more proud of your father.

Tony had always been in your life. At first it was minimal because your mother used you as a bargaining chip for money. Your mother had been a girl he met out and had a fling with. By the time you were 3, you were with him full time. When Tony had found out your mother was abusing prescription meds, he cleaned his life up and fought for you. He still had his fun, but taking care of you came first. Eventually she vanished from your life after a handful of supervised visits.

While Tony was busy saving the world, you were working on your studies. You attended a private a school to help keep you out of the lime light. You remembered hearing about Captain America from Agent Coulson and were excited to meet him when you found out he came out of the ice. You didn’t know your grandparents. He knew your grandfather. You wanted to learn about a different side of him. Phil had promised to arrange it, but then Loki and the Chitauri came for New York. You had been only 15 at the time. By some stroke of luck you had gone unharmed. You had been through a lot in your young life already, and watching Tony disappear through that hole in the sky had shaken you to your core. You had been in the tower and had run outside crying. Steve Rogers had caught you in his arms and held you tight while you broke down. He didn’t let you go until Tony opened his eyes. That day forged a bond with you and Steve. He became the big brother you had always needed.

Once things had settled down, you closed yourself off from everyone, including your father. Tony had to hire a tutor for you to continue your school work because you wouldn’t leave the tower. Tony has been distraught when he couldn’t reach you. It had been Steve that had broken through your walls after he moved in to The Avengers tower. He had let you guide him through all of the pop culture he didn’t understand and he earned your trust by treating you like you were his equal, not a kid. He didn’t try to get you to talk like Tony and Pepper did. He didn’t treat you like glass the way Happy and Rhodey did. He would tell you stories about when he was a kid and how he was trying to adjust after being gone for so long. Eventually, you slowly started opening up. You told him how you were certain that being Iron Man would take your father from you too soon but that he had to do it. The world needed heroes like him and Steve. You confessed your fears of being ill prepared for what was coming in the world. You couldn’t protect yourself, and the idea that you would be a distraction from other people being saved ate at you. Steve taught you how to defend yourself, you trained with him. Tony had been grateful that Steve had helped you and brought his brilliant and loving daughter back to life. Like Tony, you graduated high school far too early. At 16, went to Columbia University to get your degree in computer science and engineering, you also minored in Business. At age 20 you had a masters degree and you were helping Pepper with Stark Industries. Eventually it would be yours to take over. You also worked behind the scenes for The Avengers. Tony had been insistent that you never went into the field, but he didn't mind you working at the tower with Maria Hill.

The time of the Accords had been one of the worst times in your life. Watching Steve and Tony fracture down the middle. You saw both sides and cried when you told Steve you had to stand with your father. No matter what, you would never turn your back on Tony. The two of you were a team. Steve understood that more than you knew at the time. You had been shattered when you found out about Bucky being the one that murdered your grandparents and the fact that Steve had covered it up. Steve had told you so many stories about Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Your brain couldn’t reconcile the fun loving man and the Soldier that gave your grandparents such a violent end. Steve’s lie had hurt more than anything, yet part of you understood. You knew what Bucky meant to him. Bucky was his family and he would do anything to protect him. After all...there wasn't a thing in the world you wouldn't do to protect your father.

It had been you that convinced Tony that it wasn’t Bucky’s fault. You were a woman obsessed after Steve went on the run. You needed to understand. You had done extensive research into Hydra after everything that had happened. You needed to be able to separate The Winter Soldier from Bucky Barnes. You believed that Steve knew James Barnes best. He was rarely wrong. When you delved into the research into how they had programmed him, you felt instant regret for the rift between you and Steve. You begged Tony to find a way to forgive and move on. You had reached out to Steve a few times and met once. Steve had been hesitant, not because he didn’t trust you, but because he was afraid you would get hurt. You had to forgive him and in person and so he agreed. You spent two days with him and Sam in South America. It had been hard to leave them knowing you didn’t know if and when you would see them again. Tony knew you had seen Steve and made amends, he just wasn’t ready yet. Tony wanted to find your level of empathy, he just needed to work at it. Then Thanos happened and your world shattered again.

your father disappeared onto that space ship. Bruce has called Steve, Nat, Sam and Wanda for help. You had been a wreck when they walked back into the compound. Steve wanted you to stay behind but there was no way you were staying. At the very least you could help Shuri get the Infinity Stone from Vision. You ended up on the battlefield and watched everyone around you crumble into nothing. You were inconsolable until Carol Danvers rescued your father. When all seemed lost, you helped your father heal and settle down into a quiet life. He married Pepper and you finally had a sister.

After 5 years of despair, it was time to fight again. And while you got the world back. While the loss of Nat was nearly suffocating, you couldn't be more proud of her and her sacrifice. You had almost lost Tony when he snapped Thanos out of existence. He was never quite the same physically, but he happily accepted it to live in peace with his family knowing he had stopped the Mad Titan. It was his “one last mission” and he was lucky he made it back home.

You found anything but peace. You needed to do more than sitting behind a desk. After meeting Carol Danvers you realized that another Thanos could come your way and even if one didn’t, the world was in disarray again since the population had been restored. So, you joined the newly formed SHIELD. It was during this time you had gotten to know James Buchanan Barnes and he turned your world upside down. You found yourself getting lost in the blue of his eyes on more than one occasion. Goosebumps covered your skin any time his hands were on you during training. You had started looking forward to missions with just the two of you and then you started to realize he was like Steve. Steve Rogers acting as a over protective big brother was bad enough, you didn’t need his side kick jumping in on the mix. You thought that with all of the training you had done and how you continually proved yourself would be enough, clearly you were wrong. Bucky did whatever he could to block you out, keep you in the jet or back at the compound. You had finally had enough.

“No! You don't get to say anything to me right now." You were raging. Bucky had just gotten back from the mission that you were supposed to go on with him. He had again convinced Steve that he didn't need you. He botched the mission and almost got himself killed. He was trying to talk his way out of it and you didn’t want to hear it.

"Y/N, calm down." Bucky immediately regretted it. He saw the rage burn behind your eyes. Sam had his arms crossed in front of him, leaning against the counter of the common area kitchen enjoying the show. Bucky should have known better, you had quite the temper.

“Calm down?! God I am so sick of this! It’s because Tony is my father, isn’t it? It’s such bullshit! You needed me on that mission. I could have gotten in and out quickly and gotten all of the information off of their drives and you could have watched my back while I did it. Instead, YOU made a big "Winter Solider" splash, dropped way more bodies than necessary and didn't even get all of the information I need! These are huge drug smugglers and now they know we're after them. So now who's going to have to be smarter, work harder and get the info we need from behind the scenes? ME! NOT YOU." You took a deep breath and tried to reign in your temper. You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I don't need you to protect me. I'm not some helpless damsel. If I wasn't good enough to be in the field...Fury NEVER would have me given me the okay and Rhodey sure as hell would have put a stop to it if I wasn’t prepared. I get you're trying to gain points with my Father...because I know he doesn't want me here. But this time, your need to get on his good side fucked up this whole operation!" Naturally Steve walked in during the middle of your tirade wide eyed.

"I don't know if that language is necessary." Sam let out a low whistle, certain that your head was going to pop off your shoulders. He watched as you turned slowly and narrowed your eyes at Steve.

“Actually, Captain Rogers" the tone in your voice oozed sarcasm, "it's perfectly necessary. And you are JUST has bad as he is" you pointed over at Bucky. "You find any excuse to pull me off of missions and keep me in this tower like I'm frickin Rapunzel or something." You pushed past the two of them and stalked down the hall, slamming your door. The three men stood there quietly.

"Soooo...that went well." Sam finally quipped. Buck and Steve both glared at him. "Don't glare at me, she's not wrong. I love going on missions with her. She's smart and fast. She calculates every risk and doesn’t do anything unless absolutely necessary. She doesn't need you to protect her. I mean I get why you want to." He directed the last part of his comment to Bucky.

“What the hell does that mean pigeon." Bucky shot Sam another glare causing Steve to groan. He wasn’t in the mood for their bickering.

"Look...do I think you want to win bonus points with Papa Stark...sure. But not for the reason she thinks. You have feelings for her. You don't know exactly how to tell her or how to deal with it so you try to be her protector. She doesn’t need another man in her life trying to bubble wrap her. Tony and Rhodey have that covered. She wants to be your equal. She’s more than proven herself. And I’m not insulting you, it’s just an observation. We've been working together long enough for me to know you. I know your tells. I also see how you look at her when you think no one else is looking. Try talking to her...outside of missions. Maybe ask her out. Use some of that charm you have that Steve told us about." Sam shrugged and walked away.

Bucky swallowed uncomfortably as Steve turned his gaze towards him. Bucky wasn't sure how he would react and of course Sam had said something in front of him. Sam was right, he did have a thing for you. How could he not? You were so many things; funny, smart, empathetic, which he knew better than anyone. You were beautiful and had a smile that could light up the darkest of places. He even loved your temper. You had a passion and fire inside of you, God help anyone that got in your way.

“Look Steve, you know how amazing she is, how could I not want to be with her? She’s incredible. But I also know nothing can ever happen. I mean the age difference alone. I know how much she means to you. I’d never cross that line.” Steve smiled.

“I don’t think that we can really consider an age difference here when you, like me, spent so much time under ice. And then the fact that you were gone for 5 years. It’s not a normal situation. And yes, she does mean a lot to me. I’ve known her since she was a kid. I watched her grow up. But she isn’t a kid anymore. She’s a grown woman. It’s not up to me who she spends her time with. If I had to pick, you’d be at the top of the list. Buck- you’re not the man Hydra made you into anymore. You healed that part of yourself in Wakanda. You are a good man.”

“Tony won’t approve.” Steve smiled for a moment.

“You really think that would stop her?” Bucky laughed at that comment. But he absolutely thought Tony’s disapproval would put an end to anything he could have with you. “Tony forgave you. It took time but he moved past that. And if you end up being what makes her happy, he wouldn’t stand in the way of that. And she and Sam are right, she doesn’t need us to protect her. I’m equally guilty in trying to keep her out of the line of fire.” Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder as he pondered what Steve and Sam has said and headed to talk to you.

***

You were pacing in your room trying to work out your anger when there was a knock at the door. You rolled your eyes. You knew who it was without any verification.

“Leave me alone Steve.” You heard him chuckle. He wouldn’t let anger stay between the two of you. You had made an agreement a long time ago to always work out your differences.

“C’mon Y/N- I really want to talk to you. And not through the door.“ You groaned and headed over to your door and yanked it open. Steve had his arms crossed and he was leaning against the doorway.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “You’re right. I need to stop putting my personal feelings for you in front of the job we have to do. I think after everything that we’ve seen and been through I just want to know you’re always safe. Your father made it clear I was responsible for you. But it’s not fair to you.”

“Thanks Steve. I’m just so sick of being treated like I’m made of glass. I can handle myself. I know the risks.”

“I know. Your more than qualified to be in the field and I trust you more than about anyone. I promise to do better. And Bucky isn’t trying to earn points with Tony. I think he just thinks that the Stark family has been through enough. You’re the one that made it possible for him to be apart of this family. Your forgiveness and understanding led to Tony’s. Being here has allowed him to get back to the person he used to be. “

“Yeah well thanks to him I have a ton of work to do.” You felt your anger deflate like a balloon. “I better get to it.” You nodded over to your desk where two huge flat screen monitors sat.

“Alright, let me know if you need anything.” You nodded and watched him retreat down the hall before you shut your door.

Bucky Barnes was under your skin. He had been since the day you met him in Wakanda. You expected this hardened soldier but found a man with an easy smile and kind eyes. Whatever monster that had lived within him had been snuffed out. It had started when you’d notice that his gaze would linger on you just a little longer than necessary. Your heart would pound anytime he was in close proximity and you were certain he had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen. But it would never progress past a few longing looks and mild flirting. Bucky Barnes was determined to stay on Tony Starks good side, certainly any sort of relationship with his daughter would be frowned upon. You sighed and sat down.

“Friday- run through the files Sergeant Barnes obtained. We then need to get into their servers and find out when the next deal is going to happen so we can stop them.”

“Right away Miss Stark.” It was going to be a very long night.

***

It had been a few days and you finally got a lead to where the drug ring might be next. You were running down to the gym where you knew Bucky was. You stopped when you saw it empty and stepped towards the locker room with trepidation.

“Barnes! “Are you decent?” You yelled into the doorway. You heard him laugh.

“Not morally, but I am wearing pants, if that’s what you’re asking.” you rolled your eyes and strolled in, your heels clacking on the floor. He had been more flirty than normal the past few days. It was knocking you off your guard. He shot you a grin when he saw you. True to his word, he was wearing pants and nothing else. His prosthetic arm was on the bench, and his impressive form was still damp from the shower. You didn’t realize you were staring until he cleared his throat. You felt the heat rush to your cheeks and you stepped forward looking at the still angry scars on shoulder where his arm used to be attached. He would normally be self conscious with someone staring at him the way you were, but he saw interest, not pity. He sucked his breath in when you ran your fingers over the scar. You quickly realized what you were doing and jumped back.

“Sorry - I, uh, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that.” You had a sheepish look on your face. “Just...does that bother you?” Your head was tilted to the side.

“Not since Wakanda. Shuri fixed me up. Now it doesn’t hurt to wear the arm.” You looked up at him.

“You sure? I used the 3D printer to print skin grafts for another agent”

“Of course you did.” You narrowed your eyes at him and pursed your lips. “It’s more cosmetic now, no physical pain. So unless you think I need plastic surgery.”

“Shut up. That’s not what I meant. I’ve just never seen you without your prosthetic. Scars make a person more interesting. I have plenty of my own.” He watched you shudder. He remembered the deep cuts to your back during the battle with Thanos. You had been running to protect Peter and one of Thanos’ soldiers had slashed your back a few times. He remembered your screams from being cleaned and stitched up vividly.

“So...do you need something or just here to ogle me?” He wiggled his eyesbrows at you and winked when he saw your face go red again.”

“You’re obnoxious.” He was enjoying your fluster. “You need to get your shit. You, Steve and Sam are headed to Chicago to try and bust the drug ring. I finally found a lead.”

“You’re not coming?” He was certain after the last time that it would be a cold day in hell before you missed this.

“Well unfortunately I still have my Stark Industries responsibilities. And in two days we have a fundraiser. Please let me remind you that you three are on the guest list and help the elite open their big fat checkbooks. Don’t get killed and make sure Sam doesn’t mess up his pretty face.”

“Of course Doll.” He watched your eyes narrow again. You gave him a quick second look before you strutted out of the locker room completely flustered again. His skin still almost tingled where you had touched him.

***

You looked around the ball room at the richest of the rich. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits, but you felt a cloud over you. Steve and company were successful in stopping the shipment and a few of the ring members, but the leader had eluded them again. They were capitalizing on people’s pain and desperation. It hadn’t been any easy transition back for many who were snapped away. They often turned to substances to drown their sorrows. Maybe it was because you had found out your mother had recently overdosed. You took it personally. You didn’t know the woman, she was a stranger, but she was still your mother.

“Well look at you.” You turned to see a beaming Tony with Pepper holding onto his good arm. The arm that had been touched by the infinity stones was covered by a black brace.

“Hi Daddy.” You smiled and hugged him.

“Hi darling. Morgan misses you. She insists you come visit next weekend.”

“I know. I’m a terrible sister, I’ve just been distracted.”

“You’ve been working too hard.”

“Gee, I wonder where she gets it from?” Pepper quipped and you let out a genuine laugh.

“Well you are your father’s daughter. I couldn’t be more proud.” Tony kissed your cheek. “We’re going to make some rounds. I’ll see you later.” You nodded. You were by yourself again for a few moments and then saw Steve’s smiling face approaching you.

“Hey kid.”

“Steven.” You smiled at him.

“Ready?” You nodded and he led you up to the podium. Steve greeted the crowd and then introduced you. No matter how many crowds you spoke in front of, you always got nervous. As you approached the podium you looked out to the crowd and caught Bucky’s eye. He gave a reassuring smile that took your breath away. At some point between his mission and now he had gotten his long hair cut into a style similar to what it was before the war. He looked stunning in his tux. You cleared your throat and adverted your eyes away from the Sergeant’s.

“Thank you all so much for coming. It’s a happy occasion that brings us all here tonight as we celebrate the one year anniversary that so many of you were returned to us. I would be remised if I didn’t acknowledge the struggle that so many across not only our nation, but the world, have experienced as they’ve tried to adjust back to normal life. With that in mind, and the reason why we invited you here tonight is to announce a new program through Stark Industries that will aim to help those in need get to normalcy. The Romanova Foundation is named for Natasha Romanoff. You had to pause as your voice cracked on Natasha’s name. ”If it weren’t for Natasha’s bravery and sacrifice, many of us would not be standing here tonight. So I ask you to open your hearts and your wallets to help those of us in need as Natasha would have. Thank you.” You stepped away from the podium quickly as the crowd roared with applause. Steve tried to grab your arm but you shrunk away and shook your head. You bit back tears as you rushed towards a door towards a private balcony, grabbing a bottle of champagne on your way.

***

Bucky watched as you made a quick exit. He was going to follow you when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was surprised to see a smiling Tony.

“Sergeant. I was informed you had a semi successful mission yesterday, glad the three of you stopped that shipment. I also heard you got your ass ripped by my daughter last week for bumping her off a mission and then you made a huge mess of it.” Bucky swallowed hard. Tony must have read his anxiety and held his hands up. “No judgment here. I made plenty of messes myself. And I don’t envy anyone that catches her temper. It burns a little. She gets it from my side.” Tony shrugged. “You know she talks about you a lot.” Tony fired off his comments quickly.

“She does?”

“Yeah...I don’t think she realizes how much she does. She has Morgan conflicted between who her favorite Super Soldier is. You or Cap. Naturally her favorite Avenger is me. I gather you and my daughter work together a lot.”

“We do. Steve or I are usually with her.”

“To protect her?”

“Yes. She’s not a super soldier, though she thinks she is.” Tony snickered. “She’s not enhanced like Wanda. But she’s a huge asset. I don’t know what we would do without her. But some of these people we’re up against are enhanced, So Steve and I, we stick close to Y/N.”

“How close is close Barnes?” Bucky paled as Tony stared him down. After a moment he laughed and clapped Bucky on his shoulder.

“I’m messing with you. Rogers and I had a conversation. While he’s not usually the type to butt in, I think he’s trying to cut through the red tape. Look, the past is the past. After everything that happened, I don’t live there anymore. The only thing I care about is that my daughter is safe and happy. I’ve been assured that the man that they made you is gone for good. And that is good enough for me. I don’t know if you know this, but my daughter and Natasha got very close in the 5 years between Thanos annihilating half the planet and when we got everyone back. She and Nat worked tirelessly with Carol and company to watch the universe. Nat’s death was hard on all of us, but especially my daughter. Today is a hard day for her. If I know her as well as I think I do, she’s hiding outside on the far left balcony. Probably with a bottle of booze drowning her sorrows. Do me a favor...go and check on our girl.” It took Bucky a moment to react but he nodded his head and started walking towards the other side of the room before Tony yelled his name and he turned. Tony approached him again. “I may be out of commission, but just remember that I still have a suit and if you hurt my daughter there’s no serum in the world that can protect you.” With that, Tony turned on his heel and walked away.

***

You tried to hold back your tears. You knew today was going to be hard. You didn’t realize how hard until you started talking about Natasha. You took a long drink out of your bottle and looked out over the lights of the nearby city. You heard the door open behind you and exhaled.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” When you heard the door shut you thought you had been left alone but then you felt the cool metal of Bucky’s hand in your shoulder.

“You don’t have to talk. I just don’t want you to be alone feeling like this.” You nodded but didn’t turn, you couldn’t face him. So instead he stood behind you, his arms on each side of yours protectively caging you in. “Is it okay if I talk?” You nodded.

“You know what I remembered first when we came back? Your face. For me, you represented redemption, forgiveness and all of the things I didn’t think I deserved. When Steve told me that you two had worked things out, that you understood, it was a huge relief. I knew how important you were to him. Tony too. I felt like I robbed him of the family he found after the ice.” He was leaning down so he could speak quietly in your ear. “Then he told me that you wanted to meet me. God, I was terrified. All I could remember was Tony when he saw that video. I couldn’t imagine seeing the monster I had been reflected in anyone else’s eyes. Saying you forgive someone is one thing, truly being able to mean it was another. But then when you all came to try and stop Thanos the first time you waltzed off that jet and gave me the biggest smile and then you hugged me instead of shaking my hand. You took my breath away. And it was so strange to come back and then realize that 5 years had gone by. For me, it was like we just picked the fight up where we left off. It wasn’t until after that I saw you were different. You were harder. More determined to keep fighting. More determined to be a pain in my ass and walk into the line of fire when all I wanted to do was make sure you were okay. Not because of Tony. But because you were the first person other than Steve to really make me feel like I was worth all of this, that I was with saving. The idea that you were going to be out there and possibly getting hurt I had to prevent that at all costs. I just wanted you protected and behind your computer at home. That wasn’t fair and I’m sorry for doing that to you. You’re strong and capable. Getting to know you over this past year, even if you were pissed off at me for most of it, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’m sorry that you had to lose Natasha for me to get my life back. I didn’t get to spend a lot of time with Nat- but she was an incredible person. I would give my life up in a second to bring her back.” You spun around so you could face him. Even in sky high heels he was looking down at you.

“Don’t say that! Please don’t ever say that.” He studied your tear filled eyes with a kind smile. He slowly put both hands on your cheeks and swiped the unshed tears from your eyes. “As much as it hurts, Natasha had to make that sacrifice to find peace. And loosing you would be just as hard.” His blue eyes sparkled down at you and you felt a swoop in your stomach. He stroked your cheek with his non-metal hand before he dropped them to his side. He watched you take a deep breath and visibly relax.

“I haven’t talked about Natasha much. It just makes me so sad that she’s not here with us today. That she’s not here celebrating our victory. I think not talking about her has made it harder to heal.”

“Any time you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”

“And I will. But not now. This is supposed to be a party.” You smiled up at him, he was impossibly close.

“Well the 3/4 of that champagne bottle you drank will make this a real party for you in a few minutes when it hits you. You tipped your head back and laughed. “There it is.” He said it in a whisper. You have him a questioning look. “My favorite laugh.” He was making you blush again. This must have been what he was like before the war and it definitely wasn’t in your imagination. The flirting from the past few days was actually flirting. You weren’t sure what made him decide to be so obvious about it, but you didn’t care. “If no one else has told you, you look incredible tonight.” You were clad in a black strapless sweetheart neckline dress with a sequined bodice and jewel embellishments down the tulle skirt.

“You clean up pretty nicely yourself. I like the hair cut by the way.”

“It was time to get rid of the last thing that reminded me of The Winter Soldier...well other than the scary arm.”

“The arm isn’t scary.”

“No? Some of the looks I get say otherwise.”

“No. The metal arm is actually pretty sexy.” You didn’t even think before you said it. He had a smirk plastered to his face and this time you made yourself blush.

“You think I’m sexy?”

“I said the arm was sexy.” He stepped closer so you were leaning against the high railing again, his arms on either side of you caging you in again. You felt the tip of his nose run across your shoulder and up your neck as he whispered in your ear.

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” The two of you had been dancing around each other for the last year, neither brave enough to make the next move. “If it wasn’t obvious by now, I have feelings for you. Big ones. The only question is, do you feel the same?”

“Do you really have to ask? Of course I do.” You felt his lips press against your shoulder and then your neck and it was like someone sucked the air out of you. He placed his hand in the side of your face and looked into your eyes for a moment and then put you out of your misery by pressing his lips to yours. It was like the missing piece had finally been put in its place. As you gripped his shoulders to deepen the kiss you heard someone clear their throat.

“Gross. Get a room.” Sam’s teasing voice rang out through the air. Bucky groaned and dropped his head as you peered around him to look at Sam. “Listen, this is your party Stark, you better get in there before someone else comes out here looking for you. Last thing we need is a reporter snapping a picture of this and ruining everyone’s breakfast tomorrow.”

“Yeah yeah we’re coming.” Bucky’s voice was laced with irritation. When Sam had retreated back inside you cupped both sides of Bucky’s face and pressed your lips to his again.

“Come dance with me. I’ve heard you’ve got some moves.”

“They May be outdated sweetheart.” You grabbed the bottle of champagne and downed the rest of it and then took Bucky’s hand and pulled him towards the entrance.

***

“You okay? I mean you seem okay now, but I know you’re good at hiding it.” You were standing with Steve side by side at the bar. The bar that Nat would often mix drinks at during one of the many party’s your father would throw. Bucky had excused himself to go dig out more of Thor’s Asgardian liquor for him and Steve. You were pleasantly buzzed if not a little bit drunk. Your face hurt from laughing. You had spent the evening dancing with Bucky, Sam and Sam’s date. She worked for you at Stark Industries in research and development. You had introduced her and Sam a few months ago and they, as you knew they would hit it off. She was funny like Sam but tough enough to not take his shit. He needed someone to keep him in line.

“I really am Steve. I promise. It just hit me hard when I was standing up there. Bucky, he.-“ Steve grinned and cut you off.

“It’s about time. I’ve watched the two of you tip toe around liking each other since he joined us. There’s a reason you get so angry with him.” You gave him your infamous eye narrow and lip pursed expression. “Y/N- even your father knew. He encouraged Bucky to go to you.” Your eyes widened.

“He did?!” You knew Tony had let go of what happened but you never would have expected him to be okay with you having any sort of romantic relationship with James Buchanan Barnes...let alone encourage it.”

“He wants you to be happy. He’s happy. After everything that has happened he knows how important it is to say how you feel. He wants you to have what he has. He sees how Buck looks at you, how you look at him. How you talk about him. He’d never deny you that.” You looked over at your father and Pepper dancing and felt your heart swell for him. Your attention was drawn back when you heard Bucky set a glass down in front of Steve.

“God that smells like turpentine” you scrunched your nose in disgust.

“Well sweetheart not all of us can still be light weights.” Bucky grinned at you. Steve excused himself to head over to Sharon. You were happy that he seemed to find some happiness after everything. He had thought about going back and staying with Peggy. But creating a new timeline could have consequences. Plus the idea of leaving Bucky behind what inconceivable. You watched as Bucky downed his drink and shuddered a little bit. You both laughed and then he put his hand out as a slow song started playing over the crowd. You placed your hand in his and led him lead you to the dance floor. His one hand found the small of your back and pulled you flush against him while your other hand was still in his. You placed your free hand on the back of his neck, enjoying the feeling of his freshly buzzed hair. He kissed you lightly and you enjoyed being so close to him. If anyone would have told you this was how you would spend your night, you would have laughed at them.

“So my father gave you his blessing I hear?” Bucky let out a throaty laugh.

“And then threatened my life if I ever hurt you. He said he still has a suit.” You laughed and rolled your eyes.

“That sounds like my father. I’m glad he did. I’ve been hoping you’d make a move for a long time.”

“You could have made a move on me you know.”

“True- but you’re old. I didn’t want to offend your old fashioned ways.”

“You wound me.” You gave Bucky a grin.

“Speaking of old fashioned...your dance moves are pretty nice.”

“Oh yeah?” He flirted. Before you could respond, gun shots rang through the air and a group of men bounded in the room with semi-automatic weapons.”

“That’s the leader of the drug ring. Samuel O’Brien.” You were wide eyed and pulled away from Bucky. Samuel narrowed his eyes at you.

“So I assume it’s you and your friends that took want was mine. Now, I’ll take what is yours.” You watched as his eyes locked on your fathers. Before Bucky could stop you, you ran towards your father and pushed him out of the way as a bullet sank into your abdomen as the both of you crashed to the ground. Your ears were ringing and it seemed like everything was moving in slow motion.

“Dammit Y/N! You shouldn’t have done that!” Tony cried out as he pulled his jacket off to put pressure on the bullet. You couldn’t speak. You locked eyes with your father for a moment and then everything faded to black.

***

You felt pain, white hot searing pain. Your eye lids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds as you struggled to open them. As the white room came into focus you heard the steady beeping of a hospital monitor.

“Y/N?!” You slowly glanced to your right and saw the worried looks of your father and Steve Rogers. Your father had jumped up and was fussing over you and you groaned. “What? What is it? What hurts?”

“Everything.” You saw Steve reach over and click a button on your IV.

“Thank God you woke up.” Tony ran his hand over your head and kissed your forehead. You started to feel fuzzy again and felt yourself slowly slip from consciousness from the pain meds Steve had sent into your veins.

You didn’t know how long you had been out for as you slowly blinked your eyes open again. You felt the heat of someone’s arm next to yours. When you looked to the side there sat James Buchanan Barnes with his head resting on his arms. You picked your hand up and slowly ran your fingers through his hair. It took him a moment to wake up. He slowly picked his head up and gave you a sleep smile.

“Hey.” You whispered.

“Hey yourself.” He sat up and pulled his chair closer and took your hand. “Any pain.” You shook your head no. “Good, I mean they have you pretty drugged. Jesus you scared the shit out of me. I can’t believe you did that.”

“He’s my dad.” Was all you could say. “Did you get him?”

“Yes. We got every damn one of them.”

“How long?”

“You’ve been unconscious for almost two weeks. Most of it was medically induced. There was a lot of damage and internal bleeding. They tapered you’re meds down and it took two more days for you to wake up. We thought we were going to lose you. I thought I lost you and I just finally got you. Not that you belong to me.” Bucky sighed and stopped talking.

“You didn’t lose me. And if you’ll have me, I’d love to belong to you.” He pulled your hand to his mouth and kissed it.

“I love you Y/N...I think I have for a long time. I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t pull through.” His voice caught with emotion.

“Hey- Bucky- I’m not going anywhere. I love you too.” He wiped a tear that slipped from your eye. He stood up and leaned over to place an gentle kiss on your lips. Your recovery would be tough, but you would get through it with Bucky by your side.

[werewolfdays]

Prompt 12 ? 👉👈

12. Waiting for the other one to come home, falling asleep and waking up to the other person gently waking them up

After the compound fracture was set and stitched closed, I carefully wrapped the forearm up in sterilized gauze, then prepared a temporary splint. A cast would have been preferable, but I knew it would heal too quickly for that to be fully necessary. Still, the recovery process would rely mostly on the patient to be cautious with his wound. 

I made the last adjustments to his splint, set him up in an arm sling, and stepped back to begin cleaning up my work station, “There you go, all done.” 

Jeremy, the werewolf I was treating after his car accident involving hunters, finally let his shoulders and expression relax, and he hopped off the medical bed, “Awesome.” 

“Please be careful with it,” I told him earnestly, “Try not to use that arm for at least a week. And come back in if there’s any issues.” 

“Will do, Nadya.” He said with a genuine smile, “Thank you.” 

“Anytime.” I replied, patting his shoulder, and he was on his way. 

Once I gathered all the waste to dispose of and disinfected everything, I went to my desk to mark Jeremy down in my patient log. As I was doing that, my phone lit up, catching my attention out of the corner of my eye. There was a missed call from Jayde and I scribbled down the information faster, making it barely legible, so I could call her back immediately. It barely rang twice before she picked up.

“Hey.” Jayde greeted softly through the phone. 

“Hi, Jay.” I replied through a relieved sigh at the sound of her voice, “Sorry I missed your first call.” 

“It’s okay. Hard at work?” She guessed knowingly. 

“I’d say so.” My eyes gave the chart on the desk a onceover, “Compound fracture, some gunshot wounds, and a couple stabbings today.” 

She made a displeased grumble that was slightly growl-like, “Yeah, these hunters hit hard, but they’re taken care of. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be heading home soon.” 

The rest of my anxious tension left my body at that, “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” 

The urge to laugh at that caused the corner of my mouth to twitch up, “I always worry about you.” 

“I know,” She said, sounding almost regretful, “But I promise I’m good.” 

I chewed on my bottom lip, wanting her to be here so I could confirm that for myself, “When will you be home?” 

“Probably not until really late tonight. We have to do some followup and mislead any potential tails we have,” Jayde explained, “So don’t wait for me. Get some sleep. You’ll see me when you wake up.” 

I tried not to be too disappointed that she wouldn’t be here sooner, but I understood why and nodded, “Okay.”

“I will be home soon, Nadya.” She reassured, sensing my mood, even through the phone. 

“I know, Jay, I know.” I said through a sigh, “I just need you safe and by my side.” 

“I will be before you know it.” 

I stood up a little straighter at her promise, “Yeah, you’re right. Be careful, okay? Come back to me in one piece.” 

Jayde chuckled lightly, “Sure thing. I love you.” 

My smile grew big enough that I knew she’d be able to hear it in my voice, “I love you too.” 

With that, she hung up. I set my phone back down on the desk, stewing in our conversation and the relief of hearing she was okay for a handful of prolonged moments before I shook myself out of it and went back to work. 

I knew as soon as Jayde told me to get some sleep I wouldn’t want to. My day was long and stressful, I worked hard to treat the people that needed it, and I could feel exhaustion start to seep into my bones, but I didn’t want to go to bed until I knew Jayde was home safe. I needed to at least see her in order to get a restful night’s sleep, so I resorted to studying until she got back, even if that meant staying awake all night. 

My plan started off great. After dinner, I grabbed some coffee and went to our room to set up the desk for a study session. I was making really good progress throughout the evening, becoming utterly immersed in my school work, and barely noticing the hours fly by. That is, until I yawned. The simple action suddenly tore my attention away from my notes and to the clock where I saw that it was just after two in the morning. That realization made my exhausted body finally catch up with my brain in a collision hard enough to make me sink in my chair.  

For the next half hour, I propped my elbow up on the surface of the desk and rested my head on my hand while I continued. My eyes grew heavier and heavier. It got to the point that I was having to reread sentences more than once. More than twice or even three times. I looked at the clock again and figured it couldn’t hurt to rest my eyes for a little while and recharge. 

“Ten minutes.” I mumbled to myself as I put my glasses aside and crossed my arms underneath my head. 

It only felt like a few minutes had gone by before someone was gently shaking my shoulder and whispering my name quietly, “Nadya, hey.” 

My eyes blinked back open to look for the culprit. Just as I was about to mutter an annoyed retort, her beautiful dark blue irises came into my vision with a stunning smile to match them. I went from drowsy to wide awake in a second flat when I realized it was Jayde. 

“Jay.” I said her name as my own smile grew into a beaming grin. I basically jumped up out of my seat and threw myself into her arms, clinging to her in a fierce embrace. Then I realized I must have accidentally fallen into a deep sleep instead of indulging in a quick break because my whole body was sore from being slumped over my desk, but that didn’t matter now that she was home. 

Jayde chuckled against my ear, holding me just as tightly as I was holding her, “Yeah, I missed you too.” 

We stayed like that for about a minute and then I pulled back to cup her face in my hands, tilting her head from side to side to assess any damage done to her. The bruises she sustained were already mostly faded and the scrapes I saw had scabbed over in the hours of healing they’d been given. I was proud to see her face was clean, which meant she had taken care of the scrapes despite their lack of severity. Then I directed my inspection down to the rest of her body. Her clothes covered most of her skin up, but I didn’t see any bloodstains to suggest that she had been shot or stabbed anywhere on her midsection. 

“What, you didn’t believe me when I told you I was fine?” Jayde asked in amusement.

I threw her a lighthearted glare, “Your definition of ‘fine’ seems to differ from mine when it comes to your physical condition.” 

“I’m alive and upright, aren’t I?” She teased with a crooked grin. When my eyes narrowed, hers rolled, and she said, “Okay, here, I’ll save you the time.” 

Jayde presented her leg to me. It would have been easy to miss, any blood that seeped into her jeans was lost in the blackness of the fabric, but there was a new rip in the thigh. Small and nothing too noteworthy apart from the glimpse of a blood-soaked bandage hidden underneath it. The size and shape of the rip was unmistakable as a bullet hole. She had been shot in the leg, most likely with a silver bullet.  

“Jayde.” I scolded in worry and disappointment, grabbing my glasses and kneeling down to try and get a better look. “Are you kidding me?”

“Before you get too mad,” Her hand came down to tuck some of my hair behind my ear, “It’s already been taken care of. I got the bullet out with tweezers, disinfected it, stitched it, and wrapped it up. Just like you would have done.” 

I stared up at her with my brows furrowed in suspicion, “Were the tweezers sterilized?” 

“Yes.” 

“You used actual disinfectant and not booze?” 

“Yes.” 

“Did you put antibiotic cream on it?”

“Of course.”

I slowly stood back up, placing my hands on my hips, and raised an eyebrow, “What knot did you use when you stitched it?”

Jayde mimicked my stance, “A surgeon’s knot.” 

We were locked in a staring contest for several tense moments until I broke the silence, “I’m still mad that you lied to me.” 

“I didn’t lie to you, I am okay.” The back of her finger brushed against my cheek to pacify me. 

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from my face, “For future reference, when I ask if you’re okay, I’m asking if you’ve been hurt at all. At all.” 

A flicker of guilt came across her face, “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to worry.” 

“But you wanted me to see you with a surprise gunshot wound when you got home.” I pointed out. 

Jayde’s face fell and her expression made my chest tighten. I knew she didn’t do it to hurt me, but she needed to understand how important it was for me to know about things like this. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel like she had to hide her pain to protect me.

My finger went under her chin, where I urged her to look up at me. Once her eyes met mine, I gave her a small smile, releasing her wrist and cupping the back of her neck to pull her in. I made sure to translate my feelings through the gentle cadence I lead, using every soft stroke of my lips to tell her it was okay. I wasn’t mad anymore. Neither was I disappointed. I just wanted to convey how much I cared about her. How much I loved her and wanted her to feel comfortable with sharing anything with me. Even her pain. 

Jayde seemed unsure at first, but then she melted into me, her hands tentatively going to my waist. I kissed her deeper for a few beats in encouragement, my heart singing when she pulled me even closer against her. Neither of us tried for anything more, we simply indulged in this silent and soft conversation of reassurance, our uneven breaths being the only sound that disrupted the space between us. 

We eventually pulled away from the kiss, foreheads resting together, and I took the time that the lingering quiet gave me to trace her bottom lip with my thumb. Jayde released a gentle sigh at the touch, her fingers clutching at my shirt to feel me through the clothing. 

“Just tell me from now on, okay?” I requested gently, “I wanna know. Even if it’s just bruises.” 

“Okay,” Jayde agreed with a whisper, “I can do that.” 

I kissed her one more time before pulling back to look at her. It was then that I saw just how tired she was. And felt just how tired I was too. “It’s pretty late.” 

She hummed in agreement, then a sly smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. I didn’t get a chance to make a remark about it because she suddenly, and effortlessly, scooped me up in her arms. A surprised squeak came out of me, but it soon turned into an amused giggle once she twirled us around and carried me to my side of the bed. Now that I was aware of it, I did note a slight limp in her walk, but the injury didn’t seem to bother her otherwise. 

I was plopped down on the mattress somewhat unceremoniously and kissed on the top of my head, then I watched as Jayde got herself ready to sleep. Her jeans were replaced by shorts, which allowed me a better view of the bandage on her thigh. The spot of dried blood wasn’t as big as I feared it was, reassuring me further of her condition, but I still itched to examine it myself. 

“Wait,” My hands went to her hips to stop her before she crawled into bed, “Can I have a look?”

Jayde nodded. 

At her consent I directed my attention down to her leg and carefully peeled the bandage back to look at the work she did. The stitches appeared to be done correctly and it was clean and tidy. There were no signs of infection. The slightly gray off color around the wound was typical for a silver bullet, but I still looked up and asked, “Was it silver?” 

She nodded again, “Yeah, but I got it out quickly. It wasn’t too bad.”

My thumb brushed her skin by the gunshot wound soothingly, both to reassure her and myself that she was okay. Then I put the bandage back into place and nodded my approval. “You did a good job. I’m proud.” 

“Yeah?” She asked with a growing grin. 

“Yeah.” I confirmed with my own smile. 

Jayde happily pushed me back down on the mattress and fell on top of me, her arms wrapping around my waist and holding me tightly to her. My grin was wide and my laugh light as I wrapped my arms around the back of her neck to pull her even closer until she rested her lips on my pulse point. A hitched breath caught in my throat when she slipped a hand under my shirt, slowly dragging it upwards across my skin while she laid gentle kisses on my neck, but then her fingers dragged over the ticklish spot on my side and it made me flinch. Jayde chuckled mischievously into my neck when I squirmed underneath her. 

“Jay, I swear—” Another poke made my body jolt again and threw me into a laughing fit, “Quit it!” 

“I love hearing you laugh though.” Jayde protested. 

“It’s bedtime.” I reminded her, trying to summon some authority to my voice through my giggling.

“Says who?” She grumbled. 

I reached down, seizing her arm and pulling it out from under my shirt with only a little resistance. Then I flipped us over, straddling her waist and pinning both of her wrists down beside her head. Jayde was far stronger than I was, especially physically, so I knew she always allowed this to happen, but she still raised an impressed eyebrow whenever I trapped her underneath me like this. 

“Says me.” 

Her smirk was challenging and she wiggled one of her wrists free, reaching for the spot on my side once more. Instead of trying to catch her wrist again, I grabbed her jaw with a firm hand, forcing her eyes to stay glued to mine, and said a simple, “No.” 

The command made Jayde’s body completely freeze, apart from her gaze that darted back and forth from my eyes and down to my lips. I gave her my own crooked grin and then turned her head to the side to expose her neck. Once her skin was bared to me, I bent down and placed an open-mouthed kiss to her warm flesh, relishing the way her body tensed further. 

“Good.” I muttered in her ear and then pushed myself off of her. 

There wasn’t another breath from her until I settled into the blankets. Then she cleared her throat and said, “Bedtime it is.” 

I laughed and pulled her as close to me as possible, our limbs tangling together. I was conscious of her wounded leg and did my best to avoid it, luckily she didn’t flinch in pain at all. Once we were both comfortable, and I could feel our bodies relax in unison, I planted one more kiss to her shoulder. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“I’m glad to be home with you.” Jayde replied. 

Being in her arms, it didn’t take long at all for a deep slumber to take me. 

[jocelyn-wellson]

10 YEARS AGO, NOVEMBER 

‘Last Match of Jo Knuckles.’ 

That was how Jocelyn’s departure from the ring was being advertised. It was supposed to be a battle royale, where all five fighters were to take on each other, but she knew better. It would be 1 versus 4; her versus the world. The ring was outdoors, more of a mud pit really. There was no referee, and everyone — spectators to bookies to the fighters and their trainers — everyone knew that someone was going to die. The advertising certainly alluded to it. Jocelyn had been so successful as a brawler that she had a price on her head. Thankfully, so many people were betting on her death that it drove the odds into the ground: bookies were banking on a 3/2 chance of her defeat.   

Conversely, there was a 1/50 chance she would win the match, walk out under her own power, and at least one of the other brawlers would have died. The mythic trifecta. 

“You come to see Dmitri,” said the exiled Alterac crimelord. “You are in this match, Joey. End of story.” He pulled a bowl of hot borscht toward him and shoveled it into his mouth. 

“I donnae wan’ ou’ o’ th’ fight. I wanna work fer meself.” 

Dmitri wiped his chin with a heavy linen napkin. “You say you win, walk away ... kill a man, you work for self? Is this what Dmitri is hearing?” 

“Stake me,” she said. “Stake me wha’evah amoun’ ya think ya can fin’. I’ll make sure ya come ou’ a richer man.” 

The crimelord crossed his arms. “What if Joey Knuckles loses?” 

Jocelyn stared him down. “Ya kin feed me to yer dogs, fer all I care. I jus’ wanna be alone, no’ workin’ fer anyone bu’ me.”

“1 in 50 for trifecta, only,” he said between bites, “You win, you get freedom, we split purse say 75/25. You lose, Dmitri will make sure you see dogs eating you parts.” He took another massive bite. 

“Deal,” she said, eyes unwavering. “Stake me a’ 1,000 gold.” 

The large man set his spoon aside. He watched her face. “You will win, Joey,” he said. “Dmitri knows.” 

“So do I,” said Jocelyn. 

Five Hours Later 

The mood at the mud pit was tense. One of Jocelyn’s long-time rivals, a Kul’Tiran known only as The Bear, was a late entrance. True to his namesake, he stalked around the ring, beating his chest every few seconds, bellowing. There were three other entrants, though none seemed notable, well, save the pale young guy. He was shirtless, thin, and covered in bruises and cuts of different ages. She watched all of her opponents carefully, looking for any sign of physical weakness or mental distress. She kept coming back to the skinny man; something just felt off about him. 

The announcer welcomed the spectators and introduced the brawlers. The spectators cheered for their favourites; only Jocelyn received both cheers and boos. With a record of 17-1-2, she was feared amongst the brawling community. 

“Fighters!” the announcer shouted. They turned to see him, calling the match from the gallows. “No shoes, socks, gloves, hats, belts, or anything of the sort. Each participant is allowed to bring one small blunt object into the ring. Blades are forbidden. Guns are forbidden. And,” he stressed, “no magic bullshit!” 

The spectators roared. 

Jocelyn stripped down to a pair of black tactical shorts and sports bra. The Bear went shirtless, as usual, thick hair covering his body. The skinny guy, he was clad in decaying canvas pants, while the other two wore their Admiralty uniforms. 

“Lasses and lads, gentlemen and gentlewoman, children of all ages,” shouted the announcer, “before you are five of Boralus’s best. You see their condition. Finalize your bets. You have one minute.” 

This was the part Jocelyn hated most, the minute leading up to the match. She hated being looked at, judged, catcalled. She hated when people would yell that she should just die. She rummaged around through her pile of clothing she had set outside the ring. She found them — her signature brass knuckles. 

“Don’t look like yer a threat today,” snarled The Bear. He picked up a rock and formed his fist around it. “Yeah, it’s yer last match, lady.” 

“Eat me,” she clapped back. It started to sprinkle. “One of ya ain’ goin’ ‘ome tonigh’.” 

She watched as the men laughed. The Bear, in particular, had a hearty one at her expense. One of the two Admiralty servicemen started coughing; he sounded like he smoked a 12 cigarillos a day for at least a couple years. She watched her opponents as their various bludgeons were raised above their heads: a truncheon, a blackjack, a metal ingot, a rock. She shuddered internally, just as always. Her face betrayed nothing. 

“The time for betting has passed!” shouted the announcer. He picked up a tiny brass hammer and walked toward a ship’s bell. “Brawlers ... in five, four, three, two ...” 

Brass met iron. 

The match began. 

The four men rushed toward the center of the pit. Jocelyn stayed behind two seconds. She needed to ambush one of them. Wheezy, as she thought of him, started coughing almost immediately. Not yet, she thought, looking at the man’s physique — he looked quite strong. Meanwhile, The Bear attacked the other Admiralty member. He was of average build, wielding a blackjack. She thought him attractive until The Bear’s rock-solid fist met his face. The man crumpled to the ground. The crowd roared. 

Wheezy tried to help his friend off the ground, only to be sapped from behind by the skinny man. The heavy ingot's inertia pulled the skinny man aside. Wheezy forgot about his comrade and dropped him in the mud. He turned his attention to the skinny man, who had hunched over. 

“Big weapon fer a wee man,” he taunted. He swung at the skinny man with his truncheon; the skinny man turned quickly, leaving the ingot, throwing a fistful of mud into his attacker’s eyes. Wheezy shouted. The Bear and Jocelyn, who had been circling each other with the other combatants between them, both made the same pained expression. 

“No mud!” she shouted at him.

“No mud!” The Bear agreed. 

The three men fighting in the middle had all fallen into the dirt at this point, slopping about as so many hogs. The skinny man used his gambit to rip the truncheon from Wheezy’s hand. He brought it down hard on the back of the first-to-fall’s head; he was out cold. Wheezy threw a blind haymaker that threw the skinny man back into the mud. He picked up the ingot, straddling the skinny man. The crowd gasped and roared as he raised it above his head. 

Jocelyn made her move. She ambushed him from behind, punching Wheezy at the base of his skull. A sharp crack resounded through the arena. The ingot fell to earth, narrowly missing the skinny man’s head. The skinny man pushed himself away on his back, rolling to his side, springing up when he got his footing. The Bear laughed. Thunder crackled. The skies opened. 

Jocelyn said nothing. She wrapped her arms around Wheezy’s head. The man squirmed, but was too winded to do much of anything. She twisted, hard. Wheezy dropped to the ground, dead. A murmur spread through the crowd. She might actually have a shot at the trifecta, some of them must have thought. Jocelyn stepped back from the corpse. She adjusted her brass knuckles, pointing at the skinny man. Her shoulders were loose and she looked like she wanted to kill him. 

The skinny man tried to flee the arena. The Bear clotheslined him.

“Fight or die, little man,” he growled. 

“You’re all fuckin’ crazy!” he yelled. 

“Deal with it,” said The Bear, piledriving the coward into the mud. The skinny man twitched and gasped. Jocelyn pointed at The Bear. Her knuckles, red from punching Wheezy, began to glint as his blood washed off. She taunted him.

“Yes, yes,” shouted The Bear. “Come!” 

Jocelyn ran toward him at full speed. The Bear swung with his rock-fist. She ducked, sliding along the ground. Her knuckles made contact with something. The truncheon. She stood, facing The Bear straight on. Giving up or bluffing? he wondered. “Fuck you, lady.” He shoved her into the mud and raised his fist high. The crowd screamed for blood. He pulled her off the ground by her sports bra. This was the death stroke. 

Now! she thought. She ripped the truncheon from the mud and smacked The Bear’s forearm as it came hurtling down. He was thrown off balance. His fist, augmented with the granite rock in its clutches, connected with her rib cage. Her left ribs broke. It was suddenly hard to breathe. She started panting. She dropped the truncheon. 

“Doin' it right this time,” said The Bear. He kicked her in the side. She screamed. Silence blanketed the crowd. Nothing but the sound of labored breathing and rain splattering into the mud. He kicked her again. “Give up,” he said. 

Jocelyn did not say a word. 

The Bear raised the granite high above his head with both hands. “Last chance.” 

Jocelyn knew she was most likely going to die. She let all the pain and rage of years flow through her. She kneed The Bear in the crotch. Hard. The mountain of a man yelped and fell to the side, granite rock landing some meters beyond his reach. Jocelyn rolled onto her right side. That’s when The Bear saw the flash. He had been so preoccupied with the truncheon that had forgotten about the knuckles. Jocelyn punched his injured forearm with as much force as she could muster. The Bear’s arm broke, a compound fracture jutting out of his thick, hairy skin. She grabbed him by the same arm, rolled him into his belly, and pushed her knee into his back while pulling on his broken arm. 

“Fuckin’...” he screamed. She pushed her knee into his back and pulled on his broken arm even harder. He vomited. Thunder crashed. The crowd, still silent, watched intently. 

“Ya can en’ et or I can,” she whispered in his ear. 

“Bitch!” he yelled, thrashing.

“‘ave et yer way,” she said, bringing the brass knuckles to bear on the back of his head. The Bear stopped moving, though his breathing was steadier than hers. She coughed, spitting off to the side. Bright red blood splashed across the Admiralty's linens. 

“Winner, Jo Knuckles,” shouted the announcer. He dinged the bell, ending the match. The crowd had no idea how to react. They started fighting amongst themselves. Jocelyn ignored them. She dragged herself across the arena to gather her belongings. Her breath was still rapid and uneven. She needed a doctor. She slid her feet into her boots, centered herself, and staggered out of the arena — on her own — before collapsing in front of an apothecary several blocks away. 

Trifecta, she thought before blacking out. 

[witchymarvelspacecase]

Voiceless Pt. 11

Summary: (Reader Insert) Reader is a mutant/inhuman with a powerful voice (works a little like a banshee/a little like a siren). She’s had it a little tough since discovering her powers. She is found and taken in by Tony Stark and the remaining Avengers after the events of Civil War

Word Count: 2878

Warnings: Really, just some fluff and general emotions

A/N: no cliffhanger this time! Well, I’ve got two more chapters for ya, and then Voiceless will be done. This chapter is a lot of feels, but in a good way ( I hope ).

A steady hum filled the space you were in. You were laying on what felt like a soft mattress, but you were not comfortable. Your chest ached with every breath you took, and your head was throbbing. All of your joints felt stiff, but when you moved even slightly, the stiffness turned to searing pain.

Groaning, you forced your heavy eyelids open, and had to blink almost immediately. The room wasn’t bright, but even the soft lights were too much.

“Hey, kiddo.”

You turned your head too fast, and it hurt so bad that you were looking at Tony though a veil of tears, but you were looking at him; he was there.

“You’re okay?” You asked in a voice raspy from disuse. Tony chuckled.

“You got thrown into a wall like a rag doll. Broken ribs, hairline fractures in your neck, and a concussion, and you ask if I’m okay.” He shook his head as he leaned closer to you. There were bruises on his face, but they were healing, and you could see several butterfly bandages as well. What you noticed most though, was the water welling up in Tony’s eyes.

“Hey, I’m alright, Tony.”

“No. No, you’re not, kid,” he said reaching forward to gently move a few strands of hair off your forehead. “You’re all beat up, and you shouldn’t have been in that place.” His hand shook a little as he continued to smooth your hair back.

“Wasn’t your fault,” you said as you forced your arm to move. It hurt like hell to reach over and grab Tony’s free hand, but it got his attention. “I chose to go after you, Tony. The others tried to talk me out of it- tried to tell me to stay behind. I wanted to go.”

He met your eyes then, but the hand resting on your head stayed where it was.

“Pepper called me,” you said, figuring Tony should know. He closed his eyes and laughed a little, a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah, she told me. We couldn’t have been on the ground 12 minutes and she was bursting through the doors.”

There was a light in Tony’s expression that only ever showed up when he was talking or thinking about Pepper. It was there, despite the wince that followed; Tony remembering what was probably an uncomfortable conversation. “I can’t tell if she was more mad about me being kidnapped or you getting dragged into the whole thing.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be getting my own talking to just as soon as she hears I’m awake,” you said on an exhale. “How long have I been out?”

“Two days,” Tony answered, finally sitting back, removing his hand from the top of your head. “We had you in Dr. Cho’s cradle for most of the first day.” It was your turn to wince.

The damage you took must have been severe if a day in the cradle still left you feeling as shitty as you did.

“Yeah,” Tony said, as if confirming your suspicions.

“So what happened after-?” You trailed off.

“After you got thrown into a building?” Tony finished, giving you something that looked surprisingly like a “dad-eye”. You nodded.

“Well, Rogers, Rhodey, and I blasted the giant with everything we had, but it wouldn’t go down. Wilson flew in and said something about it’s head and eyes or something, then Rhodes and Wilson both flew up to the thing’s head and shot it’s eyes out. That was it. It went down like a sack of boulders.”

“Hey, score one for the fairytales,” you laughed, immediately regretting it when your chest protested. Of course, you had to explain what that comment meant to Tony, and he laughed too, but in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? Did you tell Wilson that's where your plan came from?”

“Uh, I don’t think so. He didn't seem overly keen on my plan to begin with, so I don’t think I bothered to explain it much.”

Toy laughed again, wiping at his eyes. “Damn. Just- wow. I’ve called myself a mess before, but I think you me give me a run for my money.”

“C’mon, It all worked out, didn’t it?”

You and Tony laughed for a moment longer. You saw the weight lifting off his shoulders a bit more every second you talked, so you tried to keep the conversation moving. Unfortunately, you had to talk about some not so lighthearted stuff.

“It’s a good thing you told me about the phone, Tony. I had no fucking clue what to do when you disappeared.”

“You know, part of me sort of thought that Rogers wouldn’t actually care if I called. I guess I- I thought-“

“That he’d really left,” you supplied when Tony trailed off. Tony nodded in response. “Even though you never really gave up.”

“What makes you say that?” Tony asked, looking genuinely confused.

“I’ve seen the designs for a new shield, Tony. I know that isn’t for you. The wings? Your suit doesn’t need those,” you hesitated on your last comment, but after a breath you added, “the vibranium arm?” That was the price of technology that lead you to believe, so very clearly, that Tony hoped the others would come back. That he wanted Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint, and Wanda back. Knew that in order to get them back, he’d have to accept Bucky. The schematics for that arm? That meant that at least some part of Tony was okay with that.

Tony sat back in his chair, took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his right hand. He let out a long sigh before meeting your eyes again.

“I’m not gonna push you, Tony. I just wanted to let you know that I- that I know, I guess. And I’m proud of you.”

Tony told you then. He told you about how angry he’d been, how for months after the fight, he couldn’t even see straight. Just the thought of Steve and Bucky had been enough to either send him into a rage, or have him breaking down in tears.

He told you about how he had stumbled upon old HYDRA documents when he was rage-cleaning his lab one day (a habit that Pepper had been helping him use to replace his old drinking binges). He’d read the paper, scoffed, and almost thrown it away, but some small part of him was curious. You laughed at that. “Curiosity” and “Tony Stark” were practically synonymous. He’d ended up reading hundreds of reports about the Winter Soldier. He compiled information about how he was conditioned, what the scientists had done, and why.

Tony had drawn his own connections between Bucky’s enforced surgery, and his own. Somewhere along the line, Tony had begun to see Bucky like he saw himself.

Tony had realized that he felt as responsible for the twin’s parents deaths, as Bucky did towards Tony’s. Though neither of them had been there to pull the trigger, their technology, or their bodies, had been used without their consent. A part of them would always feel like they should have done something. Anything. Even though the rational part of them knew that would have been impossible.

He began to understand, and there was forgiveness there. Maybe not complete forgiveness, Tony said he still didn't fully trust Bucky, and they probably wouldn’t ever be besties, but he could see coexisting with him.

It was about then that your stomach chose to voice it’s displeasure with your lack of food. It growled so loudly you wondered if the whole floor heard you.

...

After some cajoling, and serious puppy eyes that you were not the least bit ashamed of, you convinced Tony to allow you to go to the kitchen to eat. He insisted on pushing you in a wheelchair, but you got to leave your room.

You were in the tower. You guessed it must have been closer then the compound. Either way, Vision, and the twins were apparently not there yet, though they were en route. Steve, Natasha, Rhodey, and Sam were all in the common area when Tony wheeled you in, and they all shook their heads.

“I know she’s supposed to still be in bed,” Natasha reprimanded.

“My fault,” you said with a smile, “I pouted until he let me out.”

Rhodey laughed. “Never could tell her ‘no’, could ya, Tone?”

Tony shrugged unapologetically. “At least she agreed to stay in the chair.”

It was a good thing you had acquiesced to the chair, just sitting up was making you tired, but you weren’t gonna tell anyone that. They were all talking. Really talking. You knew that probably hadn’t happened since before the Accords. Although you didn't see Bucky anywhere.

When you shot a questioning glance at Steve, he gently patted your shoulder. “He’s okay. He just wanted to give Tony some time.”

The elevator door dinged, and Tony’s head turned so fast you thought he’d get whiplash. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting anyone. And when he saw Pietro and Wanda exit the elevator with Vision, an emotion that you couldn’t quite describe flitted across his face.

It was something like a mixture of pain and sorrow, with happiness and pride. Tony didn’t get up to greet them, and he seemed shocked when Wanda headed his way, but he stood up to meet her.

His shock increased when she threw her arms around him. If Tony were to die of shock, you imagined that was how it would look.

“Wanda?” Tony asked, confused as his hands came up to rest on her shoulders. “Are you-- What’s wrong?” He looked around and spotted Pietro standing with Vision.

Wanda had her face turned into Tony’s chest, so you couldn’t hear what she said, but you saw the tears gather in Tony’s eyes. Saw his arms tentatively wrap around her, and saw his head drop to rest on top of hers.

A watery smile wavered on your face as Pietro crossed to stand behind you. “You know, I heard a lot of conversations that I probably wasn’t supposed to while I was out. A lot of things that I shared with my sister.”

“Yeah? He probably didn’t think you could hear him,” you agreed. “I wouldn’t suggest correcting that assumption just now.”

“Of course not,” Pietro nodded. Then he grinned. “Unless the perfect opportunity presents itself.”

You giggled as tears fell from your lashes. This time they weren’t from fear, sadness, or pain.

You stayed in the common room as long as you could. Would have stayed longer in fact, but Wanda ratted you out.

Everyone was so involved in reconnecting with each other, that you essentially faded into the wall. You wouldn’t fool yourself into believing that it would be all sunshine and sparkles forever; you knew that there were some arguments still to be had, but for the moment, everyone was just glad their family was okay. You managed to sit in the background for most of the discussions, which was good, since you were far more exhausted than you were willing to admit. You’d nearly fallen asleep in your chair several times, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt the scene in front of you.

“Bucky,” Wanda called. Bucky had been on the periphery of the conversation for a while. He hadn’t spoken, but he’d caught your eye every once in a while. Steve and Sam had mentioned him and nodded or gestured to him, indicating his presence, so everyone knew he was there, but he remained quiet.

“I think it’s time Y/N returned to her room.” “Huh? No. I’m-”

“You’re not ‘just fine’,” Wanda interrupted when you tried to disagree, “you nearly passed out twice in the last five minutes. Now, let Bucky take you back to your room.”

“That’s a pretty intense ‘Mom Voice’ there, Wanda,” you grumbled. She shot you a smile as Bucky came to stand in front of your chair.

“You okay?” he asked. You knew that he likely believed Wanda, and wanted to take you to your room as well, but the fact that he checked with you made you smile.

“She’s right,” you admitted quietly, so only Bucky would hear, “I just wanted to stay.”

Bucky’s smile was small but indulgent as he gently rested his right hand on your cheek momentarily. “No one’s goin’ anywhere, Doll. Got plenty of time to listen to everyone gab tomorrow.” He moved behind you, unlocked the wheels of your chair, and slowly started to wheel you out of the room.

Or he tried to anyway. Tony stepped just to the side of the doorway before Bucky could exit.

As Bucky paused, Tony bent and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Barnes is right. You can listen to us talk tomorrow, but you gotta rest, okay?” He looked worried again, like he thought you might try to get up leave your room again.

You smiled. “I promise I will go straight to bed, Tony.”

Tony straightened up, and rested a hand on your shoulder before looking to Bucky. “Make sure she stays in bed, Barnes. We both know she’s lying.”

“Aw, c’mon!” you grumbled. Tony smiled, squeezed your shoulder a little, and walked away.

It wasn’t until the elevator door closed behind you that Bucky spoke.

“I didn’t expect-” Bucky cleared his throat, “I’m surprised he spoke to me.”

Slowly, your arm shaking with exhaustion, you reached back and grasped Bucky’s left hand where it was curled around the handle of your chair.

“He’s trying, Bucky. I think he understands, at least, he understands more. He wants to give you a chance.” Bucky didn’t respond as the doors opened on your floor, and you didn’t push him.

Bucky wheeled you into your room and insisted on helping you from the chair to your bed. While you tried to talk him out of it, he turned down your blankets, and adjusted your pillows. You were mid argument when he bent and picked you up.

He only held you for a few moments, and as soon as you were released, you wanted to crawl back into his arms. He moved to settle your blankets over you and fussed with them for a second before you rested a hand on his forearm.

When he met your gaze, you gave him a somewhat sleepy smile. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“Nothin’ to thank me for, sweetheart.” You hummed in response, but gripped his arm when he moved to leave.

“Stay? Please.” You blushed, but didn’t stop yourself from asking him to stay. Out of everyone, you really wanted to spend time with Bucky. You hadn’t seen him since before the rescue mission, and though you’d been unconscious, you felt like you’d missed him. A lot.

Bucky seemed to freeze for a moment, but settled into the chair that Tony had left beside your bed. He didn’t remove your hand, but rested his left one on top of yours where it lay on his right arm.

“Okay, Doll. Whatever you need.”

“Really?” you asked in a mischievous tone.

Bucky snorted. “Well, Stark said to make sure you stay in bed, so nothing that involves you getting up.”

“How exactly are you planning on keeping me here?” You asked skeptically. “I’ll just wait till you leave.”

“Then I’ll stay all night,” Bucky countered, his eyes narrowing just a fraction.

“Mmm, what if you fall asleep?”

Bucky gave you a scathing look that made you laugh. “What? The big, bad Winter Soldier doesn’t occasionally fall asleep when he’s clearly tired, in a safe place, and already in pj’s?” you asked gesturing to him. He was wearing a soft hoodie and sweatpants, and he did have some pretty dark circles under his eyes.

Bucky cocked his head before responding. And his response came in the form of releasing your hand, and standing up. For a second, you thought he was leaving, and your heart sank.

You weren’t sure you were ready to put into words how you felt about Bucky, but you knew. You knew you cared for him as more than a friend, as more than a teammate. You were worried that what you’d intended to be light-hearted teasing, perhaps firiting, had hurt or upset him. Which had you trying to push yourself upright in your bed.

“What do you think you’re doin?” Bucky asked as he sat on the other side of your bed. He hadn’t laid you in the center before, and he was now sitting on the unoccupied half of your mattress. While you’d panicked, he’d removed his hoodie, leaving him in a t-shirt and his sweats. As he laid down next to you, he gently tugged you closer to him and laid his right arm over your midsection.

“How’s this then?” he asked quietly, “think you can get out now?”

A split second passed before a smile spread across your face. “Guess we’ll find out won’t we?”

Bucky laughed. You felt his breath tickle across your face, felt the vibration of his laugh in his chest where your arm rested against it. His warmth seeping into you.

Within moments, you were asleep. Cuddled against Bucky’s chest, his arms around you, both of you smiling as you slept.

Voiceless Tags (Open):

@lostinspace33, @kaitymccoy123, @owhatshername1, @saysay125, @sammysgirl1997, @bunnymother93,  @henrietteoaks, @moistpotatobear, @thatcrazybookwormgeek, @kathieycarrerarosshley ,  @coconutknees, @shamelessbookaddict, @badwolf-87, @lexie-mo, @inumorph, @kathieycarrerarosshley, @unknownuserhasjoined , @just-a-littlebit-of-everything

Perma Tags (Open): @buckyappreciationsociety , @17marvelousfreak , @melconnor2007 , @writingwithadinosaur , @whenallsaidanddone , @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt , @umwhatandrea , @pineapplebooboo , @thefridgeismybestie , @xlemon-limex , @sammysgirl1997 , @4theluvofall , @geeksareunique , @madcheshire89 , @shakzer00 , @ajimagines , @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun , @mummy-woves-you , @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for , @strangersstranger

Avengers Perma Tags (Open): @ldyhawkeye , @gonnadiereading

Bucky/Sebastian Tags (Open):

@waywardpumpkin, @smileybear17, @not-sebastian-stan

[thetiredinsomniac]

Uruguayan Air Force flight 571

On October 13, 1972, a rugby team were going to be flying from Argentina to Chile for a rugby game. The plane was carrying 5 crew members and 40 passengers, which included people from the club, along with their friends and family. However, by December 22, only 16 of them were still alive.

To get from Mendoza, Argentina to Santiago, Chile the Old Christians rugby club of Montevideo, Uruguay would have to fly through the Andes. The pilot of the plane was experienced in flying over the Andes, and so it shouldn't be too hard for him. His co-pilot, however, had never flown over them before and so was inexperienced. To add to this, the weather conditions were so bad they had to land somewhere else when they first took off since it was too dangerous to try and fly the whole way. When they eventually did fly through the mountains, there was a lot of mist, which made it hard to see where anything was. Since he couldn't see anything, he had trouble gauging where he was. He contacted the air traffic controllers and told them he was near the town of Curicó and was going to start descending towards Santiago. Unfortunately, he had his directions all wrong and was going to start descending into the mountains.

Once the pilot was out of the clouds, he could see that they were heading straight for a mountain. He attempted to pull up as to miss the mountain. But the right side of the plane hit it and the plane had also stalled. The right wing was ripped off and the fuselage split. Along with this, the tail of the plane had detached, taking 5 people with it. Then, the left wing was ripped off and the propeller caused a hole in the fuselage, which 2 people were sucked through. Another 2 people fell out the back as the plane was sliding down a hill.

The plane was sliding down for over 2,000 feet until it went nose-first into a snowbank, killing one of the pilots. Due to the sudden stop, some plane seats slid forward, killing a few more people. Only 33 people out of the beginning 45 were left after the crash. Two of the rugby players happened to be medical students as well. Their names were Gustavo Zerbino and Roberto Canessa. Since quite a few of the passengers needed medical assistance, they attempted to help them. However, some of the passengers had injuries such as compound fractures or pieces of the plane had skewered them. Sadly five people died during the first night.

Rescue planes had been flying around the area looking for the plane. However, the plane last reported an incorrect location and so it was hard to find where the crash was. Along with the fact the white plane was camouflaged with the snow. The survivors hadn't managed to successfully signal a plane overhead. But luckily they had a radio and so could hear how the searches have been going.

The survivors had managed to make a shelter using parts of the plane but were running out of food. They decided to make a deal with each other. If one of them was to die, the rest of them would be allowed to eat them. Since the rugby club members were religious, they likened this to eating the body of Christ at communion.

On the 11th day, the searches were called off, which meant the survivors would have to find their own way out. This led to the survivors realising they would have to eat their friends to survive. They would use broken glass from the plane and cut strips off of the bodies, leaving them in the sun to dry. After the flesh ran out, they had to start eating organs, muscles and brains.

On October 29, an avalanche swept through where the shelter was, killing 8 people. the survivors were stuck in the snow for 2 days and then were stranded for 3 days due to a blizzard. Once they could get out safely, they decided that the fittest members of the group would have to try and find help. However, this journey was cut short since it was too cold to go away. They decided to craft some sleeping bags using parts of the plane and took off again on December 12, over 2 months after the crash.

Roberto Canessa, Nando Parrado and Antonio Vizintin took a hike to try and find help. Antonio was sent back when they realised how far they were from civilisation. Also because their supplies would last longer between 2 of them. On the 6th day of hiking, the snow stopped. They found grass everywhere and water to drink.After walking for 80 miles, they found 3 men who were from the village of Los Maitenes in Chile. They were on the other side of the river and the men signalled to the survivors to wait until tomorrow morning. On the next morning, they communicated through tying pieces of paper to a rock and throwing it over the river to each other. One of the survivors wrote that "I come from a plane that fell in the mountains" and so the authorities came and rescued all the survivors, although some of them had to wait another day since there was bad weather.

The survivors now try and get together on the day they were rescued, December 22, every year. There is also a rugby match on December 22 in Chile to honour the tragedy.

Sources for information here, here and here.

Images found here, here and here.

Read about the Burke and Hare murders.

[dogmapod]

02 The Branch Davidians and David Koresh

Hey folks, welcome to the show Dogma: A Podcast About Cults I’m your host Denis Ricardo.

This show is about cults. The origins, practices and abuses of cults. So, if you are uncomfortable with descriptions of sexual, physical and mental violence and abuse, this is not the show for you.

I’m gonna try to keep it light and fun, but this stuff can get kind of dark… so you’ve been warned.

Our story begins in 1929 with a one Mr. Victor Houteff, president and prophet of The Shepherd’s Rob, an offshoot of the Seventh-Day Adventists, who could be the subject of their own episode.

Houteff did not see eye-to-eye with the church’s interpretation of Isaiah 54-66, which are a collection of oracles unknown to prophets after the Hebrews returned to Judea from Babylon.  

Houteff believed that the church was not doing all it could, becoming relaxed in their teachings and becoming secular. He shared this with his Sunday school classes and was disfellowshipped by his local Seventh-day Adventist congregation just before publishing his book, The Shepherd’s Rod.

The Shepherd’s Rod is a 172-page manuscript that called for worldwide reform.

He listed twelve areas that he felt the church was not addressing, named “Partial List of Abominations.” It included information attempting to define the identity of the 144,000 of the book of Revelation and his interpretation of Isaiah 54-66.

Despite being disfellowshipped, he did not want to start a new movement. He told his followers

“in case some one’s name is take off the church books for carrying on the message, do not be discouraged in any way but to press onward as though nothing happened. Pay your honest tithe and offering to your church and feel like IT IS your Father’s house.”

In the transcript, you’re going to notice Houteff’s spelling is a little… off.

In 1932 he published the second volume of  The Shepherd’s Rod, clocking in at 304 pages. Two more booklets filled with tracts published the following year would be volume three. It was reported that Houteff’s followers were being physically removed from their churches and that Houteff himself was attacked for trying to enter a church in LA.

His followers saw no other option but to organize the Universal Publish Association (UPA) in 1934 in LA. They were dedicated to publishing Rod’s message which they believed were God’s fulfillment of Micah 6:9 and 7:14

9 The Lord's voice crieth unto the city, and the man of wisdom shall see thy name: hear ye the rod, and who hath appointed it

Feed thy people with thy rod, the flock of thine heritage, which dwell solitarily in the wood, in the midst of Carmel: let them feed in Bashan and Gilead, as in the days of old.

“Bashan” is the northernmost region of the Transjordan and Gilead is the company that overcharges people for PrEP.

I’m joking. Gilead is an area between Jordan, Syria and Israel, or at least it is believed to be. It was part of a Hebrew conquest that was called the Golan Heights, and again, this is at least believed to be correct. But because of its significance to the Jewish religion, it’s lead to some contention between these countries.

Houteff’s teachings were officially labeled heresy in the Seveth-day Adventist church between 1934 and 1936 by hearings in Fullerton and Los Angeles. In March of 1934 the Shepherd’s Rod was officially organized. Both the Seventh-day Adventists and Shepherd’s Rod believed that they were living in the end times with evidence in the Bible as prophecy.

In 1935 leaders in the Shepherd’s Rod saw that they needed a headquarters for their growing number of followers. They purchased 189 acres just outside of Waco, Texas. This facility would later be known as the Mount Carmel Center, named after the quote in the Bible they base their beliefs in.

By 1942 the group had renamed themselves “Davidian Seventh-day Adventists.”

Houteff died unexpectedly in 1955, he was 69 years old (nice). Florence Houteff, Victor’s wife, intervened in a meeting to appoint herself vice-president of the church and remove E.T. Wilson, the standing VP who was appointed by Victor. She asserted that booting Wilson and picking her

“were in harmony with recommendations made by Brother Houteff prior to his death.”

This kicked off a flurry of fractures in the organization, with several congregants deciding to follow basically anyone who said God appointed them the new leader.

The organization broke in 6 splinter groups, and the Mount Carmel Center was taken by EE Ranches, a commercial horse breeding company. But the core part of the property with the main building was retained by one of the splinter groups, the Branch Davidians.

The Branch Davidians also believed themselves to be in the end times.

The Branch Davidians formed after a failed apocalypse prophecy by Florence Houteff was made in 1959. After being disappointed to not all just die at once, follower Benjamin Roden splintered from the group.

Roden died in 1978 and was succeeded by his wife Lois Roden. But even in this group, there was splintering, as some followers felt their son George Roden should be the new president. However, when Lois died George succeeded her, so it wasn’t that big of deal in the end.

But, things weren’t that great because there was yet more splintering and a man by the name Vernon Howell rose to power and had a few followers of his own.

Howell arrived at the Waco compound in 1981, when he quickly had an affair with Lois Roden, he in his late 20s and she in her late 60s. But I’m not here to yuck any yums, so get yours, I guess.

George Roden and Howell fought for power in the group, with more members favoring Howell.

Now, this is where it gets really weird.

In order to challenge his spiritual prowess, Roden exhumed a corpse for Howell to resurrect. This is illegal in Texas, and Howell filed charges against Roden. The files were dropped because Howell was told he needed evidence. So, this lead to a raid on the compound by Howell and seven of his followers equipped with five .223 caliber semiautomatic rifles, two .22 caliber rifles and two 12-gauge shotguns with 400 rounds of ammunition.

It is assumed that Howell wanted to take the place over, but he claims that they were gathering evidence on Roden. However, they didn’t have a camera with them, so it is not know how they would document evidence.

The case was dropped yet again, but the jury found Howell’s followers not guilty and no agreement on Howell. Howell invited the prosecutors out to ice cream after the trial.

In 1990 Howell is considered the de facto leader of the Shepard’s Rod.

He took the name David Koresh.

“David Koresh” comes from King David and Koresh from Cyrus the Great (Koresh is the Hebrew pronunciation of Cyrus). Cyrus the great was a Messiah who brought the Jews out of captivity from Babylon

I’m going to go over some the stranger religious practices of the Branch Davidians.

The Branch Davidians group had dietary restrictions, abstaining from sugar, processed flour and dairy.

Former follower David Bunds said,

“His reasoning was, well, dairy products are made from milk which is baby food. Milk is what you drink when you’re a baby and we’re adults now.”

This is actually a pretty common dietary restriction among Seventh-day Adventists and as a vegan I’m not totally against this philosophy. But, it’s still really not that good… and it gets worse.

Unsurprisingly, they were also very restrictive standards for women. Women could only wear long blouses and were forbidden to wear makeup or jewelry. They also couldn’t have sex with any man other than Koresh and their husbands were expected to remain celibate. Age was also not a factor and Koresh took “spiritual wives” as young as ten. This young ten-year-old woman later testified in court that Koresh molested her at a motel. In all, Koresh had 20 wives by 1993.

Former member Shelia Martin said,

“If we weren’t being obedient in the sense of like, [I] went to the store and bought something, you know, it was being selfish […] He always would let us know it wasn’t right and we should’ve done [it] differently, and many times it was in front of everyone.”

Children who misbehaved were regularly beat,

“…as a kid, being disciplined was like a 24/7 thing,”

Joann Vaega who was 6 when she was on the compound.

Koresh’s own children did not escape his abuse. When Koresh’s son Sky Okimoto was a child, his mother Dana Okimoto would beat him with a wooden paddle until he bled for even the most minor infractions such as spilling milk. In an interview with ABC News, she said that she was so deep under Koresh’s control that she couldn’t stop herself from beating her child.

“I felt like the most evil person in the world to be beating my baby this way. But this is what God wanted and needed from me.”

In an interview on Good Morning America in 2008, Sky Okimoto said of being the son of someone so infamous,

“Being the son of David Koresh, yes it was pretty hard […] I’m pretty much at peace with the fact that he existed. Sometimes I look up to him because of his charisma. Other times I think he was crazy.”

Dana Okimoto left the church with Sky and their other son Scooter shortly before shit hit the fan.

Aside from feeling the need to be huge creep and monster to prove his leadership, he also preached that they the Branch Davidians would someday be under attack by the US government and so the group began to stockpile arms and food.

A little bit of foreshadowing there…

Around on February 28, 1993, at 9:30am agents from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms arrive at the Waco compound after hearing reports of the group stockpiling arms. Gunfire erupts between the two groups and 4 ATF agents were killed, 16 wounded. An unknown number of Branch Davidians were also killed or wounded. The FBI comes in hours later, taking over for the investigation.

This will begin what became a 51-day standoff between the US government and the Branch Davidians.

(“Battle Hymn of the Republic” performed by Thomas Chalmers fades in. It is a scratchy recording from 1927)

I’m not going to go exhaustively through every single day, but there are quite a few sources online if you wanted to go in-depth.

On Monday, April 19, 1993, after 51 days of standing off and several people being shot at or leaving the compound the FBI had enough.

At 5:59am the Branch Davidians are given a message over the loudspeaker that they are under arrest.

By 6:02 two FBI combat vehicles began to pump tear gas into the compound and ferret rounds were shot at the building. Shortly thereafter the Davidians began shooting.

Former Attorney General Janet Reno is on the scene and meets with the FBI in the situation room.

By 7:30am the combat vehicles break through the front side of the building and pump more gas into the first and second floor of the compound.

At 9:20am the FBI calls for more gas to be pumped and more ferret rounds arrive at this time.

By 9:30 one of the combat vehicles is failing, the supply of ferret rounds is dwindling and a strong wind is blowing away the tear gas. Two other combat vehicles approach the building, one to widen the hole already made “from which the Davidians could escape,” and the other makes a new hole at the rear end of the building near its gymnasium. Attorney General Reno contacts President Clinton and reports that everything seems to be going well and that she will be leaving for a conference in Baltimore in 30 minutes.

Things don’t go very well.

At 12:07 the Davidians started 3 fires simultaneously in different parts of the compound.

At 12:12 Koresh is asked to lead the Davidians out of the compound. Nine of them flee and are arrested.

At 12:25pm the FBI reported hearing “systematic gunfire” coming from the compound, making many of the agents suspecting that the Davidians are committing suicide or are attacking one another.

At 12:41 fire-fighting efforts begin and HRT members enter the building looking for survivors.

More than 70 Davidians died in the compound, including at least 17 children. It was determined that Koresh was killed by a close-range gunshot.

So ends the life of the would-be messiah David Koresh.

However, that is not the end of the Branch Davidians.

Now here comes the fun part, where I beg you for money. I come to you hat in hand, asking you to go to patreon.com/dogmapod and throw a few bucks my way to help support the podcast. I can’t offer much for tier rewards, but no matter what level you donate at, I will get the episodes out to you early and you can have access to the joke/pop culture cult podcasts and non-cult related articles and podcasts that don’t quite fit with the format. At higher donations, I will take suggestions for cults and do an episode on those. Thank you so much if you decide to be ever so gracious. OK, now back to the show.

A single surviving offshoot from the original Roden-lead Branch Davidians is lead by a man Charles Pace. He is the leader of The Branch (comma) The Lord Our Righteousness. Yes, there is a comma in that.

It is a legally recognized denomination with 12 members. He has condemned Koresh’s teachings and said that the Lord has appointed him to be a leader but not a prophet. The Branch, The Lord Our Righteousness is also a doomsday cult.

The current-day Adventists also condemned the Branch Davidians, and it seems as though they all condemn any of Houteff’s splinter groups.

Thanks again so much for listening. That was our episode about the Branch Davidians and David Koresh. I’m going to put all of my sources in the description. Some of them are from Wikipedia, but I checked to make sure those sources were legit, so lay off me.

Be sure to check out the Instagram to see photos relevant to today’s investigation and the Patreon to throw a few dollars my way. Thank you very much!

Next time we’re going to be investigating a group that you may not have heard of. It was quite popular and it raised in popularity quite a few times, at least six or seven times at this point since 2004. So I can’t wait for you to hear that.

Until then, take care and goodbye.

Citations:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victor_Houteff

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shepherd%27s_Rod

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Branch_Davidians

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Koresh

https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/waco/timeline.html

https://abc13.com/the-siege-timeline-of-the-branch-davidian-compounds-fiery-end/1892261/

https://www.atf.gov/our-history/remembering-waco

https://www.nytimes.com/1993/05/04/us/growing-up-under-koresh-cult-children-tell-of-abuses.html

https://www.ranker.com/list/kids-of-famous-cult-leaders-where-are-they-now/jacob-shelton?page=2

Song Credits:

“Frozen Jungle” by Monplaisir under the name Komiku (http://freemusicarchive.org/music/Komiku/)

“Amazing Grace” performed by Original Sacred Harp (https://www.loc.gov/item/ihas.200049050/)

“At the Cross” performed by Fiddlin’ John Carson (https://www.loc.gov/item/ihas.200149072/)

“Battle Hymn of the Republic” performed by Thomas Chalmers (https://www.loc.gov/item/ihas.100010455/)

Consider joining the Patreon!

[rogue-barnes-16]

CAREFUL, SWEETHEART (part IX/?)

Summary: sadness and alcohol can lead us to make a mess of a situation, and a mess can lead us to the biggest mistakes, but can the biggest mistakes lead to something else?

Pairing: Tony Stark x enhanced young!Reader

Genre: angst-fluff (with a bit of fun)

Tags:

Careful, sweetheart:

@tone-stark @mugglebucky @sofreakinmanyfandoms @cryforfandoms @lilulo-12 @rebeccaitsnotwhatyouthink @vxidnik @edwisenpai

Permanent taglist:

@notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace

Warnings: language, mentions of injuries (this part is lame, sorry guys)

A/N: remember when I said there were just 1-3 parts left? Well I'm not sure anymore lol. Just enjoy my chaotic series, sweethearts (^3^). Feedback is always appreciated <3.

Careful, sweetheart masterlist

Rogue-barnes-16 masterlist

TONY'S P. O. V.

“... Tony. I’m sorry for...”

“... I promise... ever again. Not even...”

“... said ��I love you’, I meant it...”

“... sweetheart.”

I opened my eyes slowly, just to shut them again due to the painfully bright light of the room. I rolled to my side, wincing in pain. Goddammit every part of my body hurt.

I opened my eyes again, and this time I noticed it wasn't a bright light, it was just the sunlight.

I blinked a couple of times, thinking about what I heard. It had seemed Y/n's voice, but I highly doubted it. Maybe it wasn't even real, maybe I dreamt it. "Good Morning, Tony."

"Doctor Cho" I greeted her. I had to have been in a very critical condition if Dr. Helen Cho herself came to the compound. I tried to turn around again, but I was feeling too much pain. "so... That bad, huh?"

Helen walking to the opposite side of the room, so she was able to see my face. "well, it sure wasn't a scratch." for her scolding tone, I could tell she wasn't in the mood for a joke. "you fractured your cheekbone, badly." she added the last word looking into my eyes. "you even needed stitches. You also had two fractured ribs and a thoracic contusion."

I scoffed, which was a bad idea, since it only made my pain increase. "just a fractured cheekbone and a couple of bruises?" she darted me a deadly glance. "c'mon Cho, I came back with much worse things than that"

She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing tiredly. "you had internal bleeding and an almost second-degree burn over your ribcage."

"wait" I frowned, placing my hand over my side, feeling the bandages covering said burn. I understood the fractured ribs and cheekbone, and even the thoracic contusion. I didn't really know why I had had internal bleeding, but the weirdest thing was the burn. "what exactly happened to me?"

Helen started to write down some things, checking her tablet while doing it. "Sergeant Barnes told me your suit shut down, and Wanda had to stop you from crashing. However, she ended up throwing you into a lake." she explained distractedly.

"what about the- fuck!" I hissed, trying to sit up and failing. Helen sent me a warning glance before going back to her notes. "what about the burn."

She shrugged, turning of a couple of devices in the room. "they didn't say anything" she walked to the door, disappearing from my view. "God morning, Natasha"

"Morning Helen" Natasha said. "is he awake?" I guess Dr. Cho nodded in response, because Natasha murmured an 'Okay' before I heard the door closing, followed by a few steps toward the bed. "you gave us quite a scare."

Natasha sat down in front of me, and I just grinned. "isn't it my whole purpose?" I asked jokingly, but I just earned a sad smile from her. "how did I get the burn?" I asked, every joking tone fading from my voice.

Natasha crossed her arms loosely, leaning slightly and resting her elbows against her thighs. "you were choking, so Y/n and Barnes broke your suit." I knew there was more, so I just waited for her to finish. "Y/n had to use her pyrokinesis, and her hands reached your skin."

"Oh" she had saved me. I didn't care if I had a burn, she had saved my life. Maybe, after all, I didn't imagine those words. Maybe Y/n had come here, and maybe, just maybe, she had said those three words.

"Anyway" Natasha got up from the chair smiling at me "you have to rest. Doctor Cho said you had to stay here for a few days" as soon as she said that, she made her way towards the door.

"Natasha" I heard her steps stop, and a questioning hum coming from her. "has Y/n come to see me?"

There was a few silent seconds before she replied. "No. She went to her room as soon as we came back."

Okay, so I had dreamt it. I don't know what I was expecting, though. After all, I had pushed her away, I had shut her out, and I had avoided her for a long while.

She probably had moved on, since it was supposed to be something temporary, something passing. We weren't supposed to fall for each other.

But I had fallen so damn hard for her, and I didn't even know when. Maybe she figured it out, and that's why she didn't try to talk to me again, she was really smart after all.

"Okay" I said, closing my eyes "thanks Natasha"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Did Helen let you get to work already?" Bruce asked. He came in to the lab with a frown showing up in his face.

"Nope" I stated plainly, discarding one of the parts of the hologram's left side. "But I don't work for her. I'm a free man who makes his own decisions"

"what the..." I glanced at Bruce, catching a glimpse of his shocked face "Tony, are you listening to yourself?" he got closer to me, however, I didn't look at him, but I noticed how he stared at my current project "that's Y/n's suit?" he asked confused. "I thought you updated it a couple of weeks ago."

I darted a glance at him "are you spying me now, Banner?" I questioned, more bitter than I meant to. "Sorry. Yeah, I did, but it needs more improvements" I explained distractedly redirecting my attention to the now incomplete design. "Wilson took her to the medbay this morning. He said one of her suit's external protections got burnt"

I saw how Bruce opened and closed his mouth a few times. "how do you know that? I mean- you know- I" he sighed, walking to his own work space "I thought you two didn't talk anymore?"

"we don't" I tried to sound emotionless about it, I tried to sound like I didn't care if we talked or not. And I prayed for Bruce not to notice. "I just saw her there when Cho was checking my stitches."

A few minutes passed by in a comfortable silence, until Bruce broke it "You know, I think you should talk with her." I looked up confused. "with Y/n, I mean."

"That's not happening" I replied, finishing with Y/n's suit and starting with Steve's shield's new prototype.

"you two are so..." Bruce let out a tired sigh. "you know, maybe she's just feeling guilty because she caused you a second-degree burn." he kept talking, turning on his laptop. "so go and talk with her." he stared at me before speaking again. "Now, Tony. Go to talk with her now."

I nodded, leaving the prototype over my table, and heading out of the lab, walking to Y/n's room. Probably Bruce was right. Probably she was feeling guilty and I was being an ass by ignoring her.

I knew talking to her would be awkward, but before anything else, she was my friend, and friends are there for each other.

I knocked her door a couple of times before she answered. "it's open" I took a deep breath before turning the knob and pushing the door, getting in her room.

I didn't look at her. Not while I was getting inside, because I knew if I did, I would probably back out, and I couldn't.

So when I closed the door, I turned around, realizing she had her eyes closed. It was logical, she was probably resting since she had gotten hurt earlier that day.

"Hey, sweetheart"

[thekillerblogofkillers]

M. Jaishankar (1977-2018)

M. Jaishankar, also known as Psycho Shankar, was an Indian serial killer known for his spate of rapes/murders between 2008 & 2011. He is believed to have been involved in around 30 rape, murder and robbery cases across Tamil Nadu, Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh. He was accused of killing at least 19 women. After being captured by Indian authorities, Jaishankar was incarcerated in Bangalore, where he was diagnosed as being mentally ill. He committed suicide after an unsuccessful escape attempt in February 18. Jaishankar’s crimes are known to have begun around 2008. The first crime of his to be reported occurred on July 3, 2009, when he attempted to rape & murder P. Shyamala, 45. By August of that year he had raped & murdered 12 women, and raped a further 6 women. Jaishankar kept a machete in his bag, killing whoever resisted him. He would kidnap sex workers near dhabas (roadside cafes) on highways, raping and killing them brutally. He also targeted women living in farmhouses or other, similar, rural areas.

On August 23, 2009, Jaishankar raped & murdered 39-year-old police constable M. Jayamani. Usually stationed at the all-women police station in Kangeyam, Jayamani was on temporary assignment at Perumanallur for the visit of deputy chief minister M.K. Stalin. Jaishankar kidnapped her, raped her multiple times, and killed her. The police found her body 1 month later. Jaishankar and his accomplice P. Mohan Selvam were charged with the murder of 50-year-old K. Thangammal Ponnaya on September 10, 2009. The pair were acquitted in this case in 2014 due to insufficient evidence. The Tiruppur police began a manhunt for Jaishankar & arrested him on October 19, 2009. He was locked up at the Coimbatore Central Prison & was charged with 13 counts of rape & murder in Tiruppur, Salem & Dharmapuri. Whilst in custody he confessed that he enjoyed torturing women before raping & killing them. On March 17, 2011, police took Jaishankar to a fast-track court in Dharmapuri for a murder trial. The following day, armed reserve police constables M. Chinnasamy & Rajavelu were assigned to escort him back to Coimbatore. On this journey, Jaishankar managed to escape at the Salem bus stand at around 9:30pm. 2 days later, Chinnasamy shot himself due to shame. Jaishankar escaped to Karnataka, where he raped and murdered 6 women in a month in Bellary. He also killed a man & a child in Dharmapuri. At the end of April 2011 the police managed to trace his phone to Delhi. They initially believed that he had dumped his phone there, but in May, they traced his calls to Mumbai, where he stopped using it. A special team, made up of 2 sub-inspectors and 15 other officers, was assigned to find & arrest Jaishankar.

By May of 2011 the police had distributed wanted posters in public places across Karnataka & Tamil Nadu, looking for information about Jaishankar’s whereabouts. On the evening of May 4, 2011, he reached Elagi village in Karnataka on a stolen motorcycle. He approached Chandrakala Hotagi, working alone in a field, asking her for water & food. He proceeded to try and rape her, but she raised the alarm and her husband came to her rescue, along with a friend. Jaishankar tried to run away but Prakash Hotagi and other villages caught him and took him to the Zalaki police station. He was handed over to the Chitradurga police on May 5, 2011. Following his arrest he was kept at the Parappana Agrahara Central Jail in Bangalore – he was sentenced to 27 years in prison. Whilst at the jail he received treatment for psychiatric problems. On August 31, 2013, police took Jaishankar to the courthouse in Tumkur near Bangalore. After returning that evening, Jaishankar faked illness & was admitted to the prison hospital wing. There, he managed to get hold of a duplicate key & used it at 2am on September 1, 2013, when the daily guard change occurred. Police suspected that an insider helped him get the key. Jaishankar scaled a 20 foot wall, then walked across a 15 foot wall before finally climbing the 30 foot high compound wall. He then managed to safely cross the electric fence, since, luckily for him, it was not functional that night. It was reported that he carried a bamboo pole with him to balance on the walls & a bedsheet to use for cushioning the glass pieces on top of the wall. Jaishankar was injured during the escape & drops of his blood were discovered outside the outer wall. It was also reported that he was wearing a prison uniform during the escape. 11 jail staff, including 3 wardens, 2 jailors & 6 security guards, were suspended as a result of the escape. Police issued a red alert to all Karnataka police stations, also urging women to be careful in isolated areas. A reward of ₹ 500,000 was announced for any information leading to Jaishankar’s arrest. Police also analysed his behaviour, psychology and history in an attempt to predict his next actions. 10,000 wanted posters & 75,000 pamphlets with photographs of Jaishankar & in 5 languages (Hindi, Kannada, Marathi, Tamil, and Telugu) were printed. These were distributed in Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, Kerala and Maharashtra.

During his 2nd escape Jaishankar had fractured his leg jumping from the 30 foot high wall of the prison compound. He didn’t contact his family in Tamil Nadu, but soon after his escape a police informant managed to get in touch with him. This informant lured Jaishankar to a dilapidated building near the Kudlu gate in Bangalore, promising him a motorcycle in order to escape the city. Instead, police arrested him at noon on September 6, 2013. It cost the government over ₹ 75,000 to treat his fractured leg at the Victoria Hospital, in an operation on September 23. After the surgery Jaishankar was sent to Central Prison in Bangalore with 24/7 CCTV monitoring his cell along with extra lights. The lock on his cell door was designed to be unreachable by the person within. It was also decided that in case of illness, Jaishankar would be treated in his cell, rather than being taken to the hospital wing. Police also agreed to deploy extra security while escorting him to trials in order to minimise the chance of escape. On February 25, 2018, Jaishankar unsuccessfully attempted a 3rd prison escape & was subsequently held in solitary confinement. 2 days later he committed suicide by slitting his throat with a shaving blade that he had acquired from a barber the day before. Jail staff discovered him lying in a pool of blood at 2:30am, during their daily rounds, and gave first aid. He was later moved to Victoria Hospital and it is there that he was declared dead at 5:10am.

[pennsylvaniaparanormal]

Second Oldest Unsolved Murder in PA: Gail and Paul Schultz

On March 7, 1953, the bodies of teenagers Gail,18, and Paul Schultz,12, were found along the bank of the Black Rock Creek in Nazareth, Pennsylvania. They were bludgeoned to death by an unidentified weapon, possibly a hammer. There were no suspects in the case, and their murders remain unsolved more than 60 years later. 

So, what exactly happened, any why? And why were there never any real leads in the case?

Gail Schultz graduated from Nazareth High School in 1952. She was known to be a homebody who talents lay in art, mostly watercolor paintings and portrait sketches. She also wrote poetry and played the ukulele. At this point in history, disabled individuals were usually not allowed to attend regular school. Gail spent her days teaching and taking care of her autistic half-brother, Paul. On March 7, 1953, she and brother went for a walk along the Black Rock Creek behind her house, looking for rocks. There was snow on the ground outside, and it was very cold out.

Around 4:30 pm that day, Paul’s mother and Gail’s step-mother, Claire, became worried that the two had been gone for so long, and called for her husband Paul Schultz Sr. to go and look for them. He had been in the basement workshop repairing TVs at the time. He found the two teenagers’ bodies about 500 feet from the home, lying face down in roughly 10 inches of water. Claire watched him lift the bodies out of the creek, and the location of the murders was in the sight-line of dozens of other homes. Originally, he thought they drowned. The visible gash on Gail’s forehead was thought to be from hitting her head on a rock in the creek. 

Paul Sr. attempted to revive them using mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. His helper, Robert Howells, saw him pull the bodies out and called the family doctor and Nazareth Fire Co. The two were taken to the fire house, where more attempts were made to revive them. It was not until several hours later, when Easton funeral director John C. Kalinis was preparing the bodies for embalming, when he noticed the head wounds. Their deaths were then immediately ruled a homicide. The county coroner would later on determine that the two died from blunt force trauma from some weapon, probably a hammer. Gail had been struck in the head 7 times, and Paul 3. A compound fracture on Gail’s right thumb indicated she had attempted self-defense. 

State police were not alerted to the crime until 9:40 pm that night, when a reporter called them asking for answers. By then, the crime scene had been comprised. Captain Charles S. Cook did not arrive on scene until about 7 hours after the crime had taken place. By then, several more inches of snow had fallen, and curious and concerned neighbors had trampled over the crime scene, destroying any possible evidence. Ambulance and other rescue vehicle tracks had also destroyed any potential evidence. Gail’s glasses were finally found 9 days later about 40 feet from her body. A plastic handed chisel was also found at the scene, but it was clean and could not have caused the head wounds. These were the only pieces of evidence police had.

Even though the murder took place within the sight-line of dozens of houses, including Gail and Paul’s, there were no witnesses. Police scoured several counties for possible suspects, bringing in 124 people who had previously been charged with a sexual offense, even though there was no sign of sexual assault at the scene. The strongest suspect the police had was neighbor Willis R. Keck, a 38-year-old single man who took care of his 73-year-old father. He was suspected because he was a bachelor, and his alibi was that he had been at home until 8:30 the night of the murders. Still, he was cleared of all charges after an examination and lie detector test. The fact is, there were never any strong suspects in the case, no clear motive in the crime, no murder weapon, and no other evidence. Capt. Cook and Paul Schultz Sr. both died the following year, and Claire died in 1970. Gail and Paul’s cousin Barry Ihle and his wife, as well as a memorial marker at Nazareth High School, are the only things keeping the memories of the murder alive. 

The murders of Gail and Paul Schultz are the state police’s second oldest cold case. At this point in time, it is likely they will never see justice

[paulbenedictblog]

%news%

New Post has been published on %http://paulbenedictsgeneralstore.com%

Bbc news 2019 en noticias: los premios alternativos de fin de año

Bbc news

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Translating...

Congratulations, you may perchance well delight in made it by every other three hundred and sixty five days of recordsdata.

We tag it wasn't persistently easy, so right here is a reward: our round-up of the moments that put aside quite of smile on our faces in 2019. Many of them, inevitably, contain animals.

Bbc news Animal rescue of the three hundred and sixty five days

Winner

Image copyright Berufstierrettung Rhein Neckar

Spare a notion forthe center-broken fleshy rat of Bensheim, which grew to change into caught in a German manhole in February. She was once finally freed, nonetheless now not before passers-by took embarrassing photos of her predicament. "She had a wonderful deal of cold weather flab," one rescuer acknowledged, compounding the humiliation.

Runner-up (1)

Image copyright ViralPress

Oil rig workers 220km (135 miles) off Thailand's wing bought a shock in April after they seen a brown dogs paddling in the sea, presumably after falling from a trawler.

They plucked him to security and named him Boonrod, a Thai discover that roughly translates as "the saved one" or "survivor".

Runner-up (2)

On this case, the animals had been the rescuers quite than the rescued (effect of).

Looking ahead to the threat of wildfires later in the three hundred and sixty five days, workers at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library in California hired a hungry herd of 500 goats to spend flammable scrub across the constructing in Might per chance also.

And so, when fires did strike in October,the library was once saved on narrative of the fireplace damage the goats had createdby ingesting the flammable scrub. Nice one, goats.

Bbc news The 'image says it all' prize

Winner

Support in August, millions of you studythe adventures of 5-three hundred and sixty five days-conventional Lucie, whose before-and-after photos from her first day encourage in college had been picked up by a newspaper in her native Scotland, then shared across the world.

When her mum saw her return home, she asked what Lucie had been as much as. "Nothing unprecedented," came the acknowledge.

Runner-up

Image copyright Edi Okoro

Edi Okoro, who tooksecret photos of his girlfriend with an engagement ring for a monthwith out her noticing. She finally acknowledged "sure".

Bbc news Wearing feat of the three hundred and sixty five days

Winner

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Media captionSarah Thomas was once many cases stung by jellyfish during her swim

Appropriate a three hundred and sixty five days after being handled for breast cancer,Sarah Thomas grew to change into the first individual to swim the English Channel four cases non-pause. She did so over 54 hours, after which she acknowledged: "I'm quite tired lawful now."

Runner-up

Media playback is unsupported to your utility

Media captionNow not featured: The pigs Jasmin Paris hallucinated

It was once a finish-trudge thing, pun intended.However all credit goes to Jasmin Paris, who broke the memoir for a 268-mile trudge by extra than 12 hours. Whereas stopping frequently to particular breast milk. And hallucinating. On only three hours' sleep. Within the center of writing her PhD thesis.

Bbc news The most unearthly headlines from Wales

Bbc news The most inventive response

Winner

Image copyright Josh Thompson

Copywriter Josh Thompson may perchance well perchance look for the writing on the wall at work when he was once known as in for a gathering: he was once facing redundancy. His managers impressed him to lift a "give a spend to individual" to encourage cushion the blow, an option that's legally required in New Zealand.

However quite than lift a member of the family, a buddy or even a pet, he splashed out NZ$200 (£100) on a clown known as "Joe", who sat making animal balloons throughout the assembly. The screeching sound proved to be quite of a distraction.

"Boy, oh, boy, are they noisy," Josh acknowledged.

Runner-up

Top marks to Eimi Haga, a Jap student of ninja history who handed in a easy paper. Her professor realised the essay was once written in invisible ink, following the ninja strategy of "aburidashi", which involves spending hours soaking and crushing soybeans to function ink.

Bbc news The uplifting reports of the three hundred and sixty five days (tie)

1)=

Jordan Kinyera, the Ugandan man who was once only six when his father lost his land in a appropriate dispute. After Jordan trained as a attorney and took on the case,the family gained encourage the land this three hundred and sixty five days - 23 years later.

1)=

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Media captionHan Young-hee has been delivering yoghurt and serving to the elderly for 16 years

The South Korean ladies who ship yoghurt from motorised fridges, and defend an glimpse out for the country's most isolated other folks.

1)=

South African Uber driver Menzi Mngoma loves singing arias to his passengers - and after he featured in a video that went viral this three hundred and sixty five days,he auditioned for the Cape Town Opera and was once invited to fabricate across the country.

Media playback is unsupported to your utility

Media captionThe singing Uber driver is now plot for the opera stage

Bbc news The 'hiding in undeniable look for' prize

Winner

When archaeologists began an investigation right into a stone circle found in rural Aberdeenshire, they notion they had stumbled across a plot that was once thousands of years conventional.

So it came as a disappointment after they learnedit was once, in fact, only about 20 years conventional, and put aside there by a farmer.

Runner-up

When South African comedian Trevor Noah presented the Finest Image nomination for Shaded Panther at the Oscars in February, he quoted a asserting in the Xhosa language.

"Abelungu abazi ubu ndiyaxoka," he acknowledged, "which map: 'In cases love these, we are stronger when we fight collectively than when we strive to fight aside.'"

However that's now not what that phrase with out a doubt map. Its valid translation is: "White other folks don't know that I'm lying," and no-one in the viewers picked up on the laughable narrative.

Bbc news The most adventurous animals of 2019

Winners

Media playback is unsupported to your utility

Media captionRats power little plastic cars round a lab in the US

Raise a extremely little glass forthe rats that in actuality feel much less pressured after they power minute cars.

Runner-up (1)

The Russian eagles fitted with SMS transmitters who migrated quite additional than anticipatedand ran up wide recordsdata roaming costs.

Runner-up (2)

Image copyright Getty Photography

Image caption Drift on, little water endure

What better gallop than a day out to the Moon? It emerged this three hundred and sixty five days that thousands of Earth's most indestructible animals - tardigrades, or "water bears" -had been on board an Israeli spacecraft which fracture-landed on the Moon.

Tardigrades are minute creatures with eight legs and are presumably livid at having been dumped thus removed from home.

Bbc news The Biggles Prize for unprecedented aviation circulate

Winner

Media playback is unsupported to your utility

Media captionFootage from throughout the aircraft confirmed it inserting birds after spend-off

Rapidly after spend-off from Moscow's Zhukovsky airport in August, an Airbus jet with 233 other folks on board struck a flock of gulls, causing both engines to fail.

With the jet burly of fuel, the pilots managed to fracture-land in a corn self-discipline in a belly-flop with out reducing the wheels, to handbook definite of debris flying off and rupturing fuel tanks.

Right here is how they pulled it off, and why it was once known as a miracle landing.

Runner-up

This gutsy helicopter pilot who rescued an injured skier from a steep slope in the Alps in January.

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Media captionFrench Alps skiers rescued in dramatic helicopter manoeuvre

Bbc news Scientific advancement of the three hundred and sixty five days

Winner

There will almost definitely be only one: the first ever describe of a gloomy hole. Gaze, the blazing home doughnut:

Image copyright EHT

What's unprecedented extra spectacular is that the gloomy hole is 500 million trillion kilometres away, and about three million cases the dimensions of our planet.Right here's how the describe was once taken.

Runner-up

This was once a severely finish contest, nonetheless the invention that males's left testicles are a little bit warmer than their lawful is correct edged out of first put by the gloomy hole describe.

This study fervent getting French postmen to stand naked for 90 minutes, because sure, why now not?

function gtElInit() var lib=new google.translate.TranslateService(); lib.setCheckVisibility(false); lib.translatePage('en', 'es', function (progress, done, error) error) document.getElementById("gt-dt-spinner").style.display="none"; );

[owlways-and-forever]

Author’s Note: I'm super excited for this story, and I hope y'all enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed planning and writing it. Huge shout out to @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713, who made the dope header for this story! Another giant thanks to you guys, the readers, for picking this story up, especially to those of you who choose to reblog and leave reviews, it's the fuel that feeds writers and keeps us going. I will be trying stick to a strict weekly update schedule, so you can expect a new chapter every Monday evening. Summary: Killian was the star of the basketball team, until an injury dramatically alters things for him. Emma is a talented usher and a very enthusiastic fan. Will Killian find Emma’s exuberant cheering endearing, or will she get lost in the sea of fans? Word Count: 1600 (1600) Links: ao3, ff.net

Prologue - The Fall

Killian was insanely nervous. More nervous than he had any reason to be, but it was senior night and the big rivalry game and he really didn’t want to let the team down. He knew wasn’t going to be starting the game – Graham was a senior after all - but Killian also knew that he would get plenty of playing time anyway, especially if Graham got into foul trouble the way he had been lately. Killian was only a sophomore but he had really come into his own as a shooting guard, with a .489 overall shooting average and a .518 from behind the arc. He was a rising star, with whispers of the Wooden Award floating here and there, in circles of people in the know. Killian tried not to pay much attention to such rumours as they only served to distract, but still, the could feel the pressure building. He made his way to the court for the final shoot around, just a few minutes before the anthem was sung and the lineups were announced.

Killian always felt slightly ill at ease when the anthem played, it just made him miss home and made him almost wish that he could have had all this back in England. Mostly he missed his brother. Staying in England wouldn’t have helped that however, since Liam spent most of his days traveling the world with the Royal Navy. He kept promising to make it to one of Killian’s games but his breaks hadn’t aligned yet. Liam assured Killian that he watched every game on TV or listened on the wireless, but it wasn’t the same, and the two brothers hadn’t seen each other since Killian started school almost two years earlier. For some reason, as he listened to the anthem blaring on the court that night, Killian couldn’t stop thinking about Liam.

Killian joined the rest of the team as they formed two lines, ready to introduce the starting five - #18 Will Scarlett from Detroit, Michigan, #30 Anton Maly from Mikulov, Czech Republic, #43 Victor Whale from De Soto, Texas, #8 Captain Graham Humbert from Waltham, Massachusetts, #12 Captain Phillip Fitzroy from Washington, D.C. As each of the starters was announced, they ran between the two lines, high fived the rest of the team, and chest bumped each other, smiles and excitement and blood pounding through their veins to the beat of the roaring crowd. Killian took his seat on the bench, knotting his fingers together as he prepared himself for tip off.

The game did not start off well. Anton got two quick fouls under the basket for not keeping his feet firmly planted, something the center had a problem with in general, as he generally felt far more inclined to go for the steal. It didn’t help that the Tar Heels had a power forward who knew how to draw the foul like nobody else, and made sure he hit the basket every time to boot. By half, they were down fourteen points, and Killian had only played two minutes. Graham hadn’t gotten in foul trouble, but he also wasn’t playing his best, with only 6 points on the board. Still, Coach wanted to give him a chance, so Killian spent most of the first half sitting on the bench, watching in frustration. They all got a pretty stern talking to in the locker room at half, Coach’s own frustration seething. Four-star freshman David Nolan sat with his head in his hands, and Killian thought the poor kid might burst into tears. He was such a nice guy, a bit naïve and innocent, and Killian had his doubts as to whether or not David was cut out for such a high profile position.

They began the second half with same starters, but it was only about two minutes before Coach got frustrated and told Killian to make his way to half to check in. Things lit up for Killian in the second half. Shot after shot when in, and he watched the numbers tick up next to his name – 3, 6, 22 points. He couldn’t seem to miss, every time, just fake forward, step back, shot, basket. Anton pulled down a defensive rebound and Killian seemed to know it was going to happen, he was already countering on offense - he was miles ahead of his defender. Anton threw the ball up the court and Killian caught it with no problem, dribbled the last few feet, and then launched himself into the air. The ball sank through the basket, and Killian’s hands closed around the rim, he could already hear the crowd reacting, roaring with excitement, and then…

Another body slammed into him, and he felt his own body flying past the basket, but his left hand was still holding on, and he could feel the tendons in his wrist tearing. As he let go and fell, his arms went out instinctively, and he felt another searing pain as he landed on his hands. He suspected that he would have heard the bones in his hands shattering had his own gut-wrenching scream not torn through the air and filled his ears instead. Pain was spreading from his hand but it was almost too much for him to process, all he could do was grit his teeth and try with all his might not to scream as he felt the vibrations of every footstep of the staff surrounding him. The team trainer gently tried to pry Killian’s arm away from where he was cradling it to his chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Killian could hear a scuffle on the edge of the court, but he was beginning to feel faint and he couldn’t concentrate on the sound.

“That is my brother, you incompetent ingrate!” a voice bellowed, and Killian’s eyes found the man fighting to get past security. He had curly, sand-colored hair, and from Killian’s vantage point, he looked an awful lot like Liam.

Liam’s doppelganger pushed his way onto the court, shouldering through the security guards as if they concerned him about as much as a gnat, and knelt down next to Killian on the floor, taking his uninjured hand.

“Killian?” he said, trying to get Killian’s eyes to focus on him.

“Brother?” Killian replied, but he felt hazy, the pain clouding his mind. “You can’t be Liam, my brother is in Oman.”

“Killian, it’s me, I wanted to surprise you.” His eyes widened; Killian was absolutely astonished that his brother could have made the effort to surprise him by coming to a game.

“You’re here,” Killian sighed, as if the idea of having Liam by his side alleviated some of the pain he was feeling.

Emma watched #5 fall to the floor and immediately knew something was wrong. It looked gruesome, and the way Jones was lying on the floor, it had to be serious. He just wasn’t moving, he was lying completely still, as if all his muscles had clenched at once. Emma knew that feeling, she could remember it from when she broke her leg, it was what happened when you were in so much pain that you couldn’t even fathom moving. One of the nursing interns in the hall looked up at the TV and shook her head.

“Poor kid,” Mary Margaret sighed, her green eyes widening sadly.

“What do you mean?” Emma asked, turning to her friend. “It looks bad, but he’ll recover, probably still go on to have a fantastic NBA career with a model trophy wife and everything.” She sounded just a little too bitter and she knew it, her present relationship problems reflected all too clearly in her voice.

“Em,” Mary Margaret answered, her tone somewhere in between scolding and pitying. “It looked pretty bad. If the tendons are severed severely enough or if there’s nerve damage… basketball requires two hands, and if he doesn’t make a complete recovery, his career will be over.”

“It can’t really be that bad, can it?” Emma asked, but her stomach knotted uncomfortably. She really needed to stop visiting Mary Margaret in the Emergency Room, she hated seeing the gruesome injuries, but she just needed a break from her lab sometimes. Her boss, Albert Spencer, was a complete jerk, and more often than not, Emma felt the need to duck out of the lab for a few minutes in order to maintain her cool.

“Hey Em, I don’t mean to kick you out, but they just radioed that they’re going to bring the guy over here, so unless you want to see a compound fracture, you’ve got about fifteen minutes to get back to your lab.”

“Yeah, okay,” Emma answered. “I’m just gonna steal some coffee from you guys first, and then I’ll go back to gene splicing.”

“Alright, sounds good,” Mary Margaret replied distractedly, her fingers toying with the hem of her pink scrubs.

“You want me to bring you some back?” Emma offered, giving her friend a curious look.

“Uh, yes, thank you,” she nodded. “Just half a cup, please.”

By the time Emma came back with the coffee, the emergency room was bustling, nurses and doctors moving at top speed as they prepared for the imminent arrival of the school’s star basketball player (well, one of them). When they wheeled him in (Emma had, of course, hung out just around the corner to see) Emma couldn’t help but notice how blue his eyes were, and she wondered if the pain was accentuating it, like a fever, or if they always looked that way.

[i-am-very-very-tired]

HOMECELEB GOSSIPGENERAL NEWSBLOGENTERTAINMENT NEWSINTERNATIONALSPORTSJOBS South African Celebrities blog | Mzansi Celeb Gossip | SA Celebrity couples | South Africa Celebrity homes | Celeb Magazines | Latest Celebrity News | Celeb Gossip News logo Classic version marfeel logo Celebgossips logo Contact us: news@celebgossip.co.za Celeb Gossip News, a South African popular celebrity blog news magazine that writes scandals & stories about SA Celebs, Mzansi actors, SA TV & Radio presenters. Classic version marfeel logo Celebgossips logo Contact us: news@celebgossip.co.za Celeb Gossip News, a South African popular celebrity blog news magazine that writes scandals & stories about SA Celebs, Mzansi actors, SA TV & Radio presenters. 1' General News Government set to change SA Marriage Law – Marrying a Foreigner Is going to be Impossible By Ethel nleya-27 October 2019 Loading... THE government has new plans to consolidate the country’s existing marriage policy, which will legally recognise a variety of nuptials. It will also look at banning teenage marriages and introducing stricter rules for marrying foreigners. The Department of Home Affairs is consulting with different stakeholders before drafting what Minister Aaron Motsoaledi says should be an inclusive marriage regime based on equality, non-discrimination and dignity. Three different pieces of legislation govern legal unions in South Africa: the Marriage Act of 1961 for monogamous, opposite-sex marriages, the Customary Marriage Act of 1998 that recognises polygamy, as well as the Civil Union Act of 2006 for monogamous partnership for same-sex or opposite-sex couples. Muslim, Hindu and Jewish marriages are still not recognised under any of these laws. “The reason we want to change the current marriage policy is because it is wrong and it is not working for South Africans,” said Motsoaledi. “And none of the three recognise Muslim, Hindu or Jewish marriages or the marriages in traditional royal families. We can’t go on excluding so many people. Any citizen who takes us to court based on the mentioned gaps wins, so we were instructed by the courts to change the laws.” More in Home Being a side chick ruined my life – Muvhango Actress Liopelo Maphathe Speaks out Whistle-blower and Sindiso Magaqa's friend Thabiso Zulu ambushed and shot in assassination attempt UPDATE: Journalists shocked over Minister Mantashe's R70,000 bribe after sex with a slay queen Polokwane Boy (12) charged with murder after shooting dead his 3-year-old brother JUST IN – Former Isibaya Actor Andile Gumbi (Zweli) has died Motsoaledi was speaking at a consultative meeting with religious and traditional leaders in Cape Town this week concerning what a new marriage policy could mean for different sectors. – SundayTribune Follow Us on Twitter Latest Gossip News via Email Enter your email address to subscribe to our website and receive notifications of Latest Gossip News via email. Email Address Email Address ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ Subscribe now Comments Classic version marfeel logo Celebgossips logo Contact us: news@celebgossip.co.za Celeb Gossip News, a South African popular celebrity blog news magazine that writes scandals & stories about SA Celebs, Mzansi actors, SA TV & Radio presenters. 7' General News "We feel like a prisoners" – Joburg Mum and daughter stuck In their beds because of their weight By Ethel nleya-23 October 2019 Loading... “We feel like a prisoners in our own houses” – mother and daughter who are stuck in their beds because of their weight. Gogo Betty Shabangu is heartbroken, she last saw her daughter, Anna Tshabalala, many years ago and her hope is fading that she’ll ever see her child (Anna) again. Painfully, it’s not that Anna lives somewhere very far away, nor is it because she doesn’t want to see her mother. They both have strong desire to see each other. So near, yet so far, Betty (69) and Anna (51) live only a few streets apart in Tsakane, east of Johannesburg, but they might as well be living in different worlds, making it very hard to see each other, despite the desire to do so. Both women are stuck in their homes, made immobile by the genetics that have made them captives in their own bodies. More in Home Polokwane Boy (12) charged with murder after shooting dead his 3-year-old brother UPDATE: Journalists shocked over Minister Mantashe's R70,000 bribe after sex with a slay queen Whistle-blower and Sindiso Magaqa's friend Thabiso Zulu ambushed and shot in assassination attempt Being a side chick ruined my life – Muvhango Actress Liopelo Maphathe Speaks out Government set to change SA Marriage Law – Marrying a Foreigner Is going to... “I really miss my baby girl. I only see pictures on the phone because I am stuck in this house,” Betty told DRUM. For nearly two decades, the gogo hasn’t been able to move around on her own. Her weight and leg injuries has rendered her bedridden, she can’t even leave her house. Of late, she doesn’t know how much she weighs but the last time she was weighed, “a few years ago”, she was “around the 400kg mark”, Betty told the magazine. The battle to shed weight has been a big part of both of their lives for many years. Betty has been following a low-carb eating programme since last October and, although she’s been unable to weigh herself, she believes it’s helping. “I’ve cut fat, carbs and starch. I eat only veggies, fruit and boiled meat,” she said. Across the road, Anna’s weight, compounded by the after-effects of surviving two car crashes, have trapped her in her bedroom too. She does not even know what she weighs either, her scale only carries the maximum load of 180kg, she looks bigger than her mom and, like Betty, she’s also desperate to get out of her house. “I’m trying everything, from injections to the banting diet, but the skin between my legs is hardening,” she said, with tears running down her face. One night in 2001, Betty heard a cracking noise when she stood up from her couch to go to bed, that was the day that changed her life up to now. “I was watching TV in the lounge and when I stood up to go to the bedroom, I heard the sound of something breaking. I fell back on the sofa. Suddenly I couldn’t move my legs,” she told the publication. Her late husband William who was also in the lounge with her, did not take her seriously at first, he thought she was just kidding but soon realised his wife really couldn’t stand up. The pain in her legs was “excruciating”, she recalled, and William took her to hospital, the beginning of many trips to the emergency room. In her first visit, the doctors failed to understand what had caused her to collapse, they simply prescribed painkillers and she was given a pair of crutches. After things worsened she went to a different hospital, where doctors were again unable to diagnose what was wrong. A gruelling six months later doctors at the Clinix Botshelong Empilweni Hospital in Vosloorus discovered Betty had broken both her legs. “When my left leg broke my entire weight was transferred to my right side causing my right leg to break as well,” Betty said. She was transferred to Life The Glynnwood hospital in Benoni for knee replacement surgery but after the operation she still couldn’t walk. “I went for physiotherapy but I quit because it wasn’t working. I was also scared my legs were going to break again,” Betty added. Her granddaughter, Thando (20), is now taking care of her gogo. She was six years old when she moved in with Betty and now she keeps the house clean and prepares meals every day. Thando finished school last year and hopes to study nursing. Betty said obesity runs in their family, her grandmother, Elizabeth Mabena, was housebound for 12 years before she died at age 103 in 1996. “Her heart was strong but her bones couldn’t carry her body,” Betty said. Meanwhile, Anna’s ordeal started a few months before her mom broke her legs, she survived a car crash on her way home from work with her husband, Mandla Tshabalala, who died in 2017 at age 55. “I was in pain for a long time but I didn’t know where I was injured,” she said. She said it took Pholosong Hospital in Tsakane seven years to give her a diagnosis, and she had hip replacement surgery on her left side in 2007. “I was not as flexible as I had been before but life was back to normal. I was able to walk and drive myself to work,” she told the magazine. Before long, she began having difficulties in walking again and doctors said her right hip needed to be replaced too. As if under a bad spell, 10 years later, she was involved in another accident, when an armoured truck crashed into her parked car at a shopping mall. “The vehicle knocked my car and dragged it with me inside.” “I went to Tambo Memorial Hospital. I had fractured my right hip, which caused the replacement to shift,” she said. The doctors couldn’t operate her because she was too heavy and needed to lose weight. “I cry every day looking at what my life has become. I have to sit like this every day staring at this mirror,” she said, pointing to the dressing table opposite her bed. “Through this mirror I see my life becoming useless every day. I want to get up and go but I can’t,” she said. Anna used to work at a laundromat in Boksburg as a tailor and should be eligible for compensation from the Road Accident Fund (RAF). When DRUM contacted the RAF to ask why she has not been able to get an RAF certificate, RAF acting chief marketing officer Adriaan Taljaard said the RAF had considered the fault element and is satisfied with that aspect of the claim but it is still in the process of considering its liability before dealing with the quantum of the claim (the total amount paid out by the RAF based on assessment of the claim). That’s less consolation for Anna. She believes her life, has become a curse – for her and for others. “I have to call my family to come lock me inside because I am scared. They come and open during the day. I feel like a prisoner in my own house,” she said. When DRUM visited Anna, her sister, Lydia Mahlangu (53) was there. “I come here to help her and my mother but I also have a house in Mpumalanga and I have to go back,” Lydia told the magazine. She added that the family had been looking for a helper but no one showed interest to work for free. When Anna needs to go to hospital, three ambulances and a fire truck have to come to her tiny house to help her. “I think the paramedics will soon refuse to come here because it’s a mission to even get the stretcher out. I feel like I am a burden to everyone,” said Anna. Anna is desperate to lose weight. Like her mom, she is following a low-carb diet and a dietician regularly administers apetite-suppressant injections. “I pay R800 a month for the injections. I had to change my diet to veggies and no starch. If I can get rid of this extra fat I think they’d be able to fix the hip replacement,” she explained. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she added: “I am always depressed. I’m too young to be living like this.” Follow Us on Twitter Latest Gossip News via Email Enter your email address to subscribe to our website and receive notifications of Latest Gossip News via email. Email Address Email Address ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ Subscribe now Comments Classic version marfeel logo Celebgossips logo Contact us: news@celebgossip.co.za Celeb Gossip News, a South African popular celebrity blog news magazine that writes scandals & stories about SA Celebs, Mzansi actors, SA TV & Radio presenters. 3' General News Being a side chick ruined my life – Muvhango Actress Liopelo Maphathe Speaks out By Ethel nleya-27 October 2019 Loading... Depression, baby daddy issues and an extramarital affair with a high-flying businessman who is married to a beauty queen that is also a media mogul almost put paid to a promising acting career – but Liopelo Maphathe is back with a bang. Speaking to Sunday World this week, Maphathe revealed that she had hit rock bottom and now cringes when she thinks about this part of her history. The 37-year-old explained that the extramarital affair with a businessman, whose name is known to Sunday World, resulted in the door to a number of acting gigs being shut in her face. “This lady [the wife] would go around and block my career because I was having an affair with her husband. She would go to platforms where she has got relationships, either a producer or executive producer and she would tell them not to hire me. It happened in the beginning of our relationship and I told him what she is doing. He assured me that she did not have much power. Eventually, it worked out that way,” she said. In her head, he was William Shakespeare’s ultimate Romeo, and she Juliet. She also admits that the relationship went on for a couple of years prior to its abrupt end in 2013. Maphathe took responsibility for her actions and later confronted but also apologized to the businessman’s wife through a text in October last year. More in Home Government set to change SA Marriage Law – Marrying a Foreigner Is going to... Whistle-blower and Sindiso Magaqa's friend Thabiso Zulu ambushed and shot in assassination attempt UPDATE: Journalists shocked over Minister Mantashe's R70,000 bribe after sex with a slay queen Polokwane Boy (12) charged with murder after shooting dead his 3-year-old brother "We feel like a prisoners" – Joburg Mum and daughter stuck In their beds because of their weight “I had said to her I would like to apologize for what I did in the past and if I had contributed in any way towards making her unhappy. My intentions were very naive, as I was a child. “But if what I am coming across now, which is a blockage, is due to her suspecting that my child’s paternity is her husband’s, I am happy to sit [down] over coffee with her to discuss that, ” she said, adding the baby daddy is a businessman with Lesotho roots. According to the former Muvhango actress, the media mogul did not respond. “It made me feel relieved because now I am at peace. I’ve taken responsibility. But I was relieved and that I had taken my power back,” she said. She overcame depression, she notes, due to her family support. Explaining why she disappeared from the entertainment space, she said this was due to “making the wrong choices and having to live up to those choices”. Maphathe, who was born and raised in Lesotho, studied arts and drama at the University of the Free State and then moved to Johannesburg to pursue her acting career. She said although theatre is her first love, television took over. “Television came with a whole lot [of things]… living to make people happy, criticism and [more]. For me, it made me feel otherwise. I felt that there was too much fame [rather] than fortune and I felt like it was going to be difficult to sustain,” she said. She decided to take a step back from the industry when she had her daughter in 2009. “It made sense at that point in time because I wanted to see this through as a single parent.” The former Vatn Sit lead actress said it was a hard two years trying to make a comeback. “I think I am stronger now. I know what it is I want, what I stand for. I don’t have to suffer the pressures of trying to be something that I am not. I am in a happy place.” The media mogul and her husband did not respond to questions sent to them by Sunday World. Maphathe is in a supporting role on Generations: The Legacy and features in the Lebo Mathosa biopic on BET Africa. I think I am stronger now. I know what it is I want, what I stand for. -Sunday World Follow Us on Twitter Latest Gossip News via Email Enter your email address to subscribe to our website and receive notifications of Latest Gossip News via email. Email Address Email Address ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ Subscribe now Comments Classic version marfeel logo Celebgossips logo Contact us: news@celebgossip.co.za Celeb Gossip News, a South African popular celebrity blog news magazine that writes scandals & stories about SA Celebs, Mzansi actors, SA TV & Radio presenters. NEXT ARTICLE

[dogmapod]

02 The Branch Davidians and David Koresh

Hey folks, welcome to the show Dogma: A Podcast About Cults I’m your host Denis Ricardo.

This show is about cults. The origins, practices and abuses of cults. So, if you are uncomfortable with descriptions of sexual, physical and mental violence and abuse, this is not the show for you.

I’m gonna try to keep it light and fun, but this stuff can get kind of dark… so you’ve been warned.

Our story begins in 1929 with a one Mr. Victor Houteff, president and prophet of The Shepherd’s Rob, an offshoot of the Seventh-Day Adventists, who could be the subject of their own episode.

Houteff did not see eye-to-eye with the church’s interpretation of Isaiah 54-66, which are a collection of oracles unknown to prophets after the Hebrews returned to Judea from Babylon.  

Houteff believed that the church was not doing all it could, becoming relaxed in their teachings and becoming secular. He shared this with his Sunday school classes and was disfellowshipped by his local Seventh-day Adventist congregation just before publishing his book, The Shepherd’s Rod.

The Shepherd’s Rod is a 172-page manuscript that called for worldwide reform.

He listed twelve areas that he felt the church was not addressing, named “Partial List of Abominations.” It included information attempting to define the identity of the 144,000 of the book of Revelation and his interpretation of Isaiah 54-66.

Despite being disfellowshipped, he did not want to start a new movement. He told his followers

“in case some one’s name is take off the church books for carrying on the message, do not be discouraged in any way but to press onward as though nothing happened. Pay your honest tithe and offering to your church and feel like IT IS your Father’s house.”

In the transcript, you’re going to notice Houteff’s spelling is a little… off.

In 1932 he published the second volume of  The Shepherd’s Rod, clocking in at 304 pages. Two more booklets filled with tracts published the following year would be volume three. It was reported that Houteff’s followers were being physically removed from their churches and that Houteff himself was attacked for trying to enter a church in LA.

His followers saw no other option but to organize the Universal Publish Association (UPA) in 1934 in LA. They were dedicated to publishing Rod’s message which they believed were God’s fulfillment of Micah 6:9 and 7:14

9 The Lord's voice crieth unto the city, and the man of wisdom shall see thy name: hear ye the rod, and who hath appointed it

Feed thy people with thy rod, the flock of thine heritage, which dwell solitarily in the wood, in the midst of Carmel: let them feed in Bashan and Gilead, as in the days of old.

“Bashan” is the northernmost region of the Transjordan and Gilead is the company that overcharges people for PrEP.

I’m joking. Gilead is an area between Jordan, Syria and Israel, or at least it is believed to be. It was part of a Hebrew conquest that was called the Golan Heights, and again, this is at least believed to be correct. But because of its significance to the Jewish religion, it’s lead to some contention between these countries.

Houteff’s teachings were officially labeled heresy in the Seveth-day Adventist church between 1934 and 1936 by hearings in Fullerton and Los Angeles. In March of 1934 the Shepherd’s Rod was officially organized. Both the Seventh-day Adventists and Shepherd’s Rod believed that they were living in the end times with evidence in the Bible as prophecy.

In 1935 leaders in the Shepherd’s Rod saw that they needed a headquarters for their growing number of followers. They purchased 189 acres just outside of Waco, Texas. This facility would later be known as the Mount Carmel Center, named after the quote in the Bible they base their beliefs in.

By 1942 the group had renamed themselves “Davidian Seventh-day Adventists.”

Houteff died unexpectedly in 1955, he was 69 years old (nice). Florence Houteff, Victor’s wife, intervened in a meeting to appoint herself vice-president of the church and remove E.T. Wilson, the standing VP who was appointed by Victor. She asserted that booting Wilson and picking her

“were in harmony with recommendations made by Brother Houteff prior to his death.”

This kicked off a flurry of fractures in the organization, with several congregants deciding to follow basically anyone who said God appointed them the new leader.

The organization broke in 6 splinter groups, and the Mount Carmel Center was taken by EE Ranches, a commercial horse breeding company. But the core part of the property with the main building was retained by one of the splinter groups, the Branch Davidians.

The Branch Davidians also believed themselves to be in the end times.

The Branch Davidians formed after a failed apocalypse prophecy by Florence Houteff was made in 1959. After being disappointed to not all just die at once, follower Benjamin Roden splintered from the group.

Roden died in 1978 and was succeeded by his wife Lois Roden. But even in this group, there was splintering, as some followers felt their son George Roden should be the new president. However, when Lois died George succeeded her, so it wasn’t that big of deal in the end.

But, things weren’t that great because there was yet more splintering and a man by the name Vernon Howell rose to power and had a few followers of his own.

Howell arrived at the Waco compound in 1981, when he quickly had an affair with Lois Roden, he in his late 20s and she in her late 60s. But I’m not here to yuck any yums, so get yours, I guess.

George Roden and Howell fought for power in the group, with more members favoring Howell.

Now, this is where it gets really weird.

In order to challenge his spiritual prowess, Roden exhumed a corpse for Howell to resurrect. This is illegal in Texas, and Howell filed charges against Roden. The files were dropped because Howell was told he needed evidence. So, this lead to a raid on the compound by Howell and seven of his followers equipped with five .223 caliber semiautomatic rifles, two .22 caliber rifles and two 12-gauge shotguns with 400 rounds of ammunition.

It is assumed that Howell wanted to take the place over, but he claims that they were gathering evidence on Roden. However, they didn’t have a camera with them, so it is not know how they would document evidence.

The case was dropped yet again, but the jury found Howell’s followers not guilty and no agreement on Howell. Howell invited the prosecutors out to ice cream after the trial.

In 1990 Howell is considered the de facto leader of the Shepard’s Rod.

He took the name David Koresh.

“David Koresh” comes from King David and Koresh from Cyrus the Great (Koresh is the Hebrew pronunciation of Cyrus). Cyrus the great was a Messiah who brought the Jews out of captivity from Babylon

I’m going to go over some the stranger religious practices of the Branch Davidians.

The Branch Davidians group had dietary restrictions, abstaining from sugar, processed flour and dairy.

Former follower David Bunds said,

“His reasoning was, well, dairy products are made from milk which is baby food. Milk is what you drink when you’re a baby and we’re adults now.”

This is actually a pretty common dietary restriction among Seventh-day Adventists and as a vegan I’m not totally against this philosophy. But, it’s still really not that good… and it gets worse.

Unsurprisingly, they were also very restrictive standards for women. Women could only wear long blouses and were forbidden to wear makeup or jewelry. They also couldn’t have sex with any man other than Koresh and their husbands were expected to remain celibate. Age was also not a factor and Koresh took “spiritual wives” as young as ten. This young ten-year-old woman later testified in court that Koresh molested her at a motel. In all, Koresh had 20 wives by 1993.

Former member Shelia Martin said,

“If we weren’t being obedient in the sense of like, [I] went to the store and bought something, you know, it was being selfish […] He always would let us know it wasn’t right and we should’ve done [it] differently, and many times it was in front of everyone.”

Children who misbehaved were regularly beat,

“…as a kid, being disciplined was like a 24/7 thing,”

Joann Vaega who was 6 when she was on the compound.

Koresh’s own children did not escape his abuse. When Koresh’s son Sky Okimoto was a child, his mother Dana Okimoto would beat him with a wooden paddle until he bled for even the most minor infractions such as spilling milk. In an interview with ABC News, she said that she was so deep under Koresh’s control that she couldn’t stop herself from beating her child.

“I felt like the most evil person in the world to be beating my baby this way. But this is what God wanted and needed from me.”

In an interview on Good Morning America in 2008, Sky Okimoto said of being the son of someone so infamous,

“Being the son of David Koresh, yes it was pretty hard […] I’m pretty much at peace with the fact that he existed. Sometimes I look up to him because of his charisma. Other times I think he was crazy.”

Dana Okimoto left the church with Sky and their other son Scooter shortly before shit hit the fan.

Aside from feeling the need to be huge creep and monster to prove his leadership, he also preached that they the Branch Davidians would someday be under attack by the US government and so the group began to stockpile arms and food.

A little bit of foreshadowing there…

Around on February 28, 1993, at 9:30am agents from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms arrive at the Waco compound after hearing reports of the group stockpiling arms. Gunfire erupts between the two groups and 4 ATF agents were killed, 16 wounded. An unknown number of Branch Davidians were also killed or wounded. The FBI comes in hours later, taking over for the investigation.

This will begin what became a 51-day standoff between the US government and the Branch Davidians.

(“Battle Hymn of the Republic” performed by Thomas Chalmers fades in. It is a scratchy recording from 1927)

I’m not going to go exhaustively through every single day, but there are quite a few sources online if you wanted to go in-depth.

On Monday, April 19, 1993, after 51 days of standing off and several people being shot at or leaving the compound the FBI had enough.

At 5:59am the Branch Davidians are given a message over the loudspeaker that they are under arrest.

By 6:02 two FBI combat vehicles began to pump tear gas into the compound and ferret rounds were shot at the building. Shortly thereafter the Davidians began shooting.

Former Attorney General Janet Reno is on the scene and meets with the FBI in the situation room.

By 7:30am the combat vehicles break through the front side of the building and pump more gas into the first and second floor of the compound.

At 9:20am the FBI calls for more gas to be pumped and more ferret rounds arrive at this time.

By 9:30 one of the combat vehicles is failing, the supply of ferret rounds is dwindling and a strong wind is blowing away the tear gas. Two other combat vehicles approach the building, one to widen the hole already made “from which the Davidians could escape,” and the other makes a new hole at the rear end of the building near its gymnasium. Attorney General Reno contacts President Clinton and reports that everything seems to be going well and that she will be leaving for a conference in Baltimore in 30 minutes.

Things don’t go very well.

At 12:07 the Davidians started 3 fires simultaneously in different parts of the compound.

At 12:12 Koresh is asked to lead the Davidians out of the compound. Nine of them flee and are arrested.

At 12:25pm the FBI reported hearing “systematic gunfire” coming from the compound, making many of the agents suspecting that the Davidians are committing suicide or are attacking one another.

At 12:41 fire-fighting efforts begin and HRT members enter the building looking for survivors.

More than 70 Davidians died in the compound, including at least 17 children. It was determined that Koresh was killed by a close-range gunshot.

So ends the life of the would-be messiah David Koresh.

However, that is not the end of the Branch Davidians.

Now here comes the fun part, where I beg you for money. I come to you hat in hand, asking you to go to patreon.com/dogmapod and throw a few bucks my way to help support the podcast. I can’t offer much for tier rewards, but no matter what level you donate at, I will get the episodes out to you early and you can have access to the joke/pop culture cult podcasts and non-cult related articles and podcasts that don’t quite fit with the format. At higher donations, I will take suggestions for cults and do an episode on those. Thank you so much if you decide to be ever so gracious. OK, now back to the show.

A single surviving offshoot from the original Roden-lead Branch Davidians is lead by a man Charles Pace. He is the leader of The Branch (comma) The Lord Our Righteousness. Yes, there is a comma in that.

It is a legally recognized denomination with 12 members. He has condemned Koresh’s teachings and said that the Lord has appointed him to be a leader but not a prophet. The Branch, The Lord Our Righteousness is also a doomsday cult.

The current-day Adventists also condemned the Branch Davidians, and it seems as though they all condemn any of Houteff’s splinter groups.

Thanks again so much for listening. That was our episode about the Branch Davidians and David Koresh. I’m going to put all of my sources in the description. Some of them are from Wikipedia, but I checked to make sure those sources were legit, so lay off me.

Be sure to check out the Instagram to see photos relevant to today’s investigation and the Patreon to throw a few dollars my way. Thank you very much!

Next time we’re going to be investigating a group that you may not have heard of. It was quite popular and it raised in popularity quite a few times, at least six or seven times at this point since 2004. So I can’t wait for you to hear that.

Until then, take care and goodbye.

Citations:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victor_Houteff

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shepherd%27s_Rod

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Branch_Davidians

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Koresh

https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/waco/timeline.html

https://abc13.com/the-siege-timeline-of-the-branch-davidian-compounds-fiery-end/1892261/

https://www.atf.gov/our-history/remembering-waco

https://www.nytimes.com/1993/05/04/us/growing-up-under-koresh-cult-children-tell-of-abuses.html

https://www.ranker.com/list/kids-of-famous-cult-leaders-where-are-they-now/jacob-shelton?page=2

Song Credits:

“Frozen Jungle” by Monplaisir under the name Komiku (http://freemusicarchive.org/music/Komiku/)

“Amazing Grace” performed by Original Sacred Harp (https://www.loc.gov/item/ihas.200049050/)

“At the Cross” performed by Fiddlin’ John Carson (https://www.loc.gov/item/ihas.200149072/)

“Battle Hymn of the Republic” performed by Thomas Chalmers (https://www.loc.gov/item/ihas.100010455/)

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