#I took off a much more useful helmet to put on the no-effect cap and bells instead

[flufflecat]

pov you're any of the baldurs gate villains and you look outside your evil tower to see this standing at the gates waiting to slaughter your entire army

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Unofficial Fathers

MAIN MASTERLIST

Avengers x Teen!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,450ish

Requests: I put two requests together for this one. I hope that it’s okay.

1-What about one with the Avengers and reader (maybe they have super speed???) where the reader is a teenager and super stressed out for whatever reason so the Avengers decide to get them moving by doing something with water (like water guns, balloons, slide, etc) with them. Just like fluff, I think it’d be kinda cute 

2-Can you write an avengers x teen!reader, where she lost function in both of her legs, which makes her really sad and depressed? The others have to help her with everything and she feels bad, so she ends up trying to do things herself, but gets hurt. Maybe steve and tony play a more significant role. Thanks!

Warnings: angst / fluff / paralysis / wishing to have died 

“Hey Speedy!” Tony called over the comms. “You’re up!”

“Finally!” You exclaimed.

The mission had started almost an hour ago, and the plan had been for you to hang out in the quinjet until you were deemed needed. Which annoyed you. Even though you were barely 17, you had been a part of the Avengers for almost 3 years. Longer than even Peter Parker.

Due to some freak accident during the Battle of New York, you somehow ended up with super speed abilities. That’s how Steve and Tony found you almost 3 years old. The two were in the city for meetings and you were zooming around helping people and playing pranks. You thought it would be fun to do something to those two. But before you could do something, Tony and Steve had you pinned to the wall with part of the Iron Man suit. Apparently, their ‘meeting’ was to actually find you and bring you in.

The whole Team was interested in getting to know you very quickly and get you properly trained. Natasha, Clint, Bucky, and Steve handled your combat training personally, while Tony and Bruce tested your abilities and created gear that would help you.

Steve and Tony, though definitely not a couple, took on the role of your parents. You even had begun calling them as such. Steve was Pa and Tony was Dad. They didn’t always agree on exactly how to handle you. But they loved you and that was a step above your real parents, who you didn’t even know.

“Y/N! I need you to get in the building and get anyone and everyone out!” Steve instructed. “As fast as you can! I think the building is going down!”

“You got it Cap!” You responded.

Using your super speed you rushed out of the quinjet and into the building. You zig-zagged through each floor. The first few were empty, but eventually you ran into some people. You quickly helped them out of the building to continue your search. You were almost done with you sweep when you felt the building tremble. You paused, glancing around.

“Kid!” Tony shouted in the comms. “The building is going down. Where are you?”

“Uh… I don’t think you want to know,” you responded.

“Please tell me you’re not still in the building, Y/N,” Steve said.

“I’m sorry, Pa. I’m almost done with my sweep. Just one last floor.”

“No, Y/N! Get out of there now!”

“Just one more floor!” You sped away to get to the last floor.

“I’m on my way to you, Y/N,” Tony said. “Meet me at the Northwest window.”

“Alright. I’m almost—“ 

You suddenly heard a loud cry. You turned to see a little girl huddled up in the corner as the building’s tremor’s worsened. Rushing to the little girl, you barely missed the ceiling caving down and breaking the floor.

“I’m outside the window, kid!” Tony exclaimed. “You need to get here, now!”

“There’s a kid in here!” You retorted, grabbing the little girl. You sped to the window. “You need to take her.” You held her out to Tony. 

“Not without you!”

“Just take her, Dad! Please!”

He quickly took her from your arms. “Don’t do anything! I’ll be right back!”

He flew off and the floor began to crack worse beneath your feet. You knew, even with your super speed, that you wouldn’t be able to make it out of the building without Tony coming for you. When another section of floor collapsed, you knew you needed to get out of there.

“Dad!” You shouted.

“I’m almost there, honey!” He responded. “Just hang on!”

The floor cracked beneath you, sending you falling. You grasped onto the ledge.

“Dad!” You screamed.

“Almost, there—“

“AHHH!”

The building’s roof collapsed, with the rest of the building following. You were pushed down with the debris, screaming.

“Y/N!!!” A multitude of voices screamed over the comms.

But you didn’t hear anything else, because you landed with a thud, hitting your head and blacking out before the rest of the building landed on you.

~~~

“Tony, come take a rest,” Clint urged. “At least drink something.”

You had been stuck under the building for hours at this point, with Tony working non-stop to try and get to you. 

“I can’t,” Tony responded. “My kid’s down there.”

“Scott’s almost here, he’ll shrink down and see what’s going on.”

“I can’t afford to waste a second.”

“Stark, we don’t know if moving any of this will make it worse for her,” Bucky said. “We could just be killing her faster.”

“You don’t think I know that!” Tony spun around. “But she’s the closest thing I have to a daughter! And I’ve already let her down once today.”

“You didn’t let her down.”

“I’m the one who told her to go into the building,” Steve said, everyone able to feel the self blame in his words. “I did this to her.”

“Stop with the blame game here, guys,” Clint interrupted. “Y/N wouldn’t want that. Now, we need—"

“I’m here! I’m here!” Scott yelled, running up with Hope. “Romanoff and Banner got us hooked up to cameras and we brought extra Pym particles so that we can get her out of there.” He briefly made eye contact with Tony and Steve. “We’re going to get her out of there.”

“We’ve got this,” Hope confirmed.

Shrinking, the two quickly got into the rubble. The others rushed over to the screens so that they could hear and see what was going on. It was dusty, that much was clear. But the couple were quick to follow FRIDAY’s leads on where to go. The AI was trying to to its best to sense were you were by heat signatures.

“Miss Y/N should be just below,” the AI informed the two in the debris.

“There she is,” Steve breathed out, seeing your head on the screen. It was clear that blood had been, or still was, coming from somewhere on your head. “Tell us what’s going on guys. What’s her status?”

“She’s breathing,” Hope confirmed. “She’s scratched up, but it looks like the bleeding as stopped.”

“She’s lost quite a bit of blood,” Scott added. He turned, revealing her bottom half, squished under a large piece of cement. “That’s not good.”

“Shit,” Tony whispered. “No.”

“We need to shrink her before the damage gets worse,” Hope said. “Get on the other side of her, Scott.”

“On it,” Scott replied.

“You ready?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shrink her in 3, 2, 1.” 

Your body was quickly shrunk. Hope and Scott quickly worked together to secure you to Hope.

“Okay, she’s secure,” Scott said. “We’re on our way up.”

“You’re going to want to get everything ready,” Hope warned. “We aren’t going to want to bring her back to normal size without being ready to work.”

“Helen Cho is waiting back at the compound with her team,” Bruce informed. “Natasha and I have the quinjet ready to stabilize her as much as we can on the way.”

“Steve, Tony, you may want to stay away. It’s worse than the camera’s probably caught.”

“Not a chance.” / “Like hell!”

“Hope is right,” Clint said. “Bruce needs to be able to check her out with out you two hovering.” He looked at Bucky, the two seemingly having a silent conversation. They both took a step towards the two other men. “When they bring her out, we can’t have you two going all papa bears.”

“We’re in the quinjet,” Scott informed.

Clint and Bucky were quick. Bucky went for Steve, fighting with him to slow him down. Clint quickly shot an arrow at Tony’s arc reactor, shutting down the suit and effectively locking Tony in it. While that was happening, the others raced to the quinjet, getting it off the ground before the four men could get there.

Scott normalized himself first before helping Hope with herself and Y/N. Natasha and Bruce were waiting, ready to grab you as soon as they could. You were limp in Bruce’s arms, so incredibly so that it scared even the Hulk to his core. He and Natasha worked quickly and efficiently together to do everything they could before getting to the compound.

Back at the site, the four men had slowed down their fighting.

“How could you do that Clint?” Tony asked, clearly hurt as he was able to get his helmet off. “You have kids. You should understand the need to be with them when they’re injured.”

“I do,” Clint replied. “That’s why we knew we needed to stop  the two of you.”

“Whatever happens, it’s going to be hard,” Bucky said. “And they need to be able to fully evaluate her. It was either this or sedation… We’re sorry. We want to be there for her too."

~~~

It was two hours before Cho had finished running all the tests and an hour after that before Tony and Steve could wait at your bedside. You were all bandaged, bruised, and scrapped, but you were alive. That’s all that really matter. The test results had yet to come back, so the men had to try and be patient. You sucked in a breath, alerting the men to the possibility of you waking up.

“Y/N?” Steve softly called. “You there, doll?”

“Pa?” You rasped, head turning towards the sound of his voice while your eyes crept open.

“Hey.” He smiled.

“Hi, kid,” Tony said. 

You turned to look at him. “Dad.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I feel a hundred feet and then a building landed on me.”

“We’re not surprised there,” Steve commented.

“Hey, Y/N,” Helen Cho greeted as she walked into the room with her tablet. “How are you doing? Any unusual pain?”

“Well the drugs you’ve given me are trippy,” you replied.

“Drugs?” She repeated concerned, glancing at Tony and Steve.

“Yeah. I can feel my upper half, but my waist and below are completely numb. What did you give me, doc?”

Helen immediately went to work. She tore off the blankets covering your feet and immediately began running her pen up and down them.

“What’s going on?” You asked, trying to sit up.

“Steve, go get Bruce,” Helen ordered. Steve nodded and rushed out.

You looked at Tony. “Dad? What’s going on?”

“I-I— oh my gosh,” Tony stammered, hand covering his mouth. 

“Dad!”

“We didn’t give you any pain meds, Y/N,” Helen stated.

“What?”

“We wanted to see if there was any damage done, so we didn’t want the pain meds getting in the way.”

“So… I—I… I can’t…” You began hyperventilating. “I…”

“Honey, lay down,” Tony urged, gently pushing you onto the bed. “Breathe.”

“I’m here!” Bruce said, hurrying in with Steve. “We need to get her into the scanner and compare it to the other tests we’ve taken.” 

Helen quickly went to the head of your bed, unlocking the wheels. All of this was scaring you.

“Dad?” You looked at Tony, teary eyed, before looking at Steve. “Pa?” They both grasped one of your hands.

“We’re right here,” Steve said, bringing your hand up for a kiss as Helen and Bruce began to wheel you away.

“You both need to stay here, while we run the scans,” Bruce said.

“No! Please!” You pled, crying.

“I’ll be with you, Y/N. Tony and Steve just need to stay here.”

Bruce and Helen pushed you away as you begged and cried out for Steve and Tony. The rest of the Team rushed into the hallway to see what was happening. They witnessed you being pushed down the hall.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam asked, looking into the room where Tony and Steve had been left. Both men looked distraught, and absolutely heartbroken.

“Steve?” Bucky questioned.

“She… She… I…” Steve couldn’t pull his thoughts together.

“Tony?” Natasha questioned. 

The man fell back into a chair, burying his head in his hands. “She couldn’t feel her legs,” Tony whispered. “She couldn’t feel her legs.”

“She thought they had given her pain killers,” Steve continued, whispering as well.

“Steve, sit down,” Bucky said, moving to help his friend. “You look like you could pass out.”

“I might… she couldn’t feel her legs…”

“She’s going to be alright,” Sam said. “Y/N’s a fighter.”

“Yeah, but… she couldn’t feel her legs…”

~~~

After getting you into the scanner, Bruce and Helen actually gave you drugs to help you calm down. You were asleep almost as soon as they were injected. The two doctors worked together to look over each scan and previously done test. Only to reach the same conclusion each time. You were paralyzed. This brought on a multitude of worries, but the biggest one had to do with your abilities. Would you ever be able to use them again? 

After finding out about the diagnosis, it was the first question to leave Tony’s lips. Tony and Steve were standing outside your med-bay room, Helen and Bruce in front of them. The two doctors sighed, glancing at one another.

“No,” Bruce answered. “She wouldn’t be able to use her abilities again.”

What they didn’t know was that you had woken up just in time to hear Tony ask the question and Bruce answer it. Covering your mouth, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to stop from sobbing.

“She’s going to need help with everything, especially right now,” Helen continued for Bruce. “She’s going to need to be looked after. And I—“

“We’ll do it,” Steve replied, firmly. “We’re her family, we’ll take care of her.”

“I know that you two—this whole team, sees her as family. But this is going to be a long, hard road.”

“What are you saying?” Tony asked. “That we send her away? She’s almost 17! Who would be willing to adopt her at that age? Especially when we are her family!” He motioned between himself and Steve. “We are her fathers!”

“I understand, Tony. But you need to be prepared. She’s going to need help with the little everyday things. Bathing, getting changed, going to the bathroom. Somebody’s going to need to help her with it.”

“We will,” Steve repeated, still as firm as before. “Whatever she needs, for as long as she needs it. Whether it’s officially legal or not, she is our daughter and we will help her through it all.”

“I can make her braces,” Tony said. “Just like I did with Rhodes.”

“We actually believe that it would be more valuable if she learns to live with a wheelchair first,” Bruce responded. “Just in case anything were to happen with the braces, that she wouldn’t be completely helpless.”

“I agree with Bruce on this one,” Steve said. “She needs to be able to live in a wheelchair before she tries braces.” 

“We will have her in physical and occupational therapy such, so she doesn’t lose all the muscles in her legs.”

Just then, Wanda rushed passed them, heading for your door. “Wanda?” Steve questioned. “What’s going on?”

“The pain,” Wanda replied. “She’s in so much pain.”

Following Wanda into the room, they witnessed you trying to control your emotions. Though it was clear you were upset. Tony and Steve rushed to either side of you.

“It’s okay, honey,” Tony whispered, wiping tears off your cheeks. “It’s okay.”

“N-no…” you rasped, shaking your head. “It’s… n-not…”

“Did you hear what we were talking about?” Steve asked. You nodded. “I’m so sorry, doll. You shouldn’t have had to find out that way.”

You couldn’t stop the sobs at this point. You had just gotten the worse news you could have imagined. You were paralyzed and know unable to use your abilities. In your mind, you were basically useless. 

Steve quickly got into bed with you, pulling you into his arms. As he cradled you, he tried to get you to calm down. He glanced around worriedly at everyone else in the room, who didn’t know how to help.

~~~

“You need to eat, Y/N,” Tony pressed, trying to hand you a plate again. 

“I’m not hungry,” you replied, voice void of all emotion.

You had fallen asleep in Steve’s arms, where the two of you stayed until morning. Tony brought in breakfast while Steve went to get ready for the day.

“You need to eat,” he said again.

“I said, I’m not hungry,” you repeated.

Tony sighed, seating the plate down. “Do you not like waffles? I can have Happy go get something else. A burger? Fries? Ice cream?”

“I want my legs back.”

“Kid—“

“Don’t try to make me feel better about this. You have no understanding about how I am feeling.”

“I wasn’t trying to. I just—“

“Can you leave me alone? I want to be alone.”

Tony knew that you just needed a moment. So without responding, he got up and left, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wall next to it, running a hand down his face. The guilt he was feeling was real. If only he had grabbed you and the kid, or if he had just flown faster.

“You’re going there too?” Steve asked, coming up to lean on the wall across from Tony. 

“The guilt is real,” Tony responded.

“Yeah… I shouldn’t have had her go into the building. What was I thinking?”

“I shouldn’t have let her convince me to take the kid… but, I guess, feeling this way won’t do her any good now, will it?”

“No, unfortunately, it won’t.” Steve looked at the closed door. “How is she?”

“She refused to eat… I’m thinking about having Happy get all her favorite foods for lunch.”

“Good idea. Maybe we could even try the wheelchair out and bring her to the common area.”

“I like it.”

“I’ll let everyone know about it.”

“Yeah, I—“

“Excuse me, Boss, Captain,” FRIDAY interrupted. “But Y/N is in need of immediate assistance.”

~~~

After Tony left, you huffed. This was miserable. You didn’t want to be stuck in this bed. And, honestly, the longer you sat there, the more you needed to go to the bathroom. You just didn’t want to ask for help, you didn’t want that to be your life. Studying the distance between your bed and the toilet for a few moments, you decided to get there yourself. Besides, they hadn’t tried to stand you up and get you to walk, maybe this was all one big cruel joke.

Taking a deep breath, you flung your covers off. You pushed yourself towards the edge of the bed, helping your legs to rest over it. Other deep breath in and you pushed yourself off the bed, trying to stand. You immediately fell. Trying to brace yourself, you landed on your hands. One of your wrists cracked, failing to break your fall. In the midst of the struggle, your bladder decided to let loose, causing you to lay in a pool of your own pee. You clutched your wrist close to your chest as your door burst open, revealing two extremely worried men. You looked at them, with tears cascading down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I just wanted to do something by myself.” They looked at you with complete pity, which you absolutely hated.

“It’s okay,” Steve said, getting on the floor beside you, minding the puddle. He noticed your wrist. “Did you hurt yourself?”

You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll go run and get you clothes, sweetheart,” Tony said. “Steve will help you into the shower. It’s all going to be okay.” He rushed out.

“No it won’t,” you whispered as Steve scooped you up into his arms. “It will never be again.”

And Steve thought his heart couldn’t shatter more than it already had. As he lifted you, he could practically feel the weight that this was having on you. You wouldn’t look at him as he took you into the bathroom and set you on the shower floor.

“Can I help you undress?” Steve asked.

You inhaled sharply, closing your eyes. This was your life now. Though you could undress yourself, you would always need help, basically be waited on all the time.

“If you want, I can go grab Natasha,” Steve suggested. “Or Wanda. Or, Pepper might even be in today. You love Pepper.”

“I want to be alone,” you mumbled.

“Y/N, I just want to help. Just let me help.”

“And I just want to be alone.” Tears were still falling, though you couldn’t understand how.

“Y/N—“

“Just leave me alone!” You shouted, pushing yourself into the corner.

“What’s going on in here?” Tony asked, bringing in the clothes with Pepper following.

“Leave me alone!”

“Why don’t you guys wait outside?” Pepper suggested. “I’ll help Y/N.”

Steve sighed, straightened up from his kneeled position and hurrying out of there. Tony looked at you sadly before taking his leave. Pepper shut the door and came to your side.

“What do you want me to do?” She asked softly.

“I want to be left alone,” you responded, frustrated and not willing to look her way.

“That’s not going to happen and you know it, Tony and Steve won’t allow it. Those men out there care about you and are so extremely worried. All they want to do is help.”

“I don’t care.”

She let out a small sigh. “Will you at least let me help? We need to get you out of those clothes and washed up. Especially since that wrist needs to get checked out.”

After a moment, you gave in and looked at her. “Okay.”

Pepper smiled at you briefly. “Okay.”

~~~

Apparently, there was already a hairline fracture in your wrist because of the accident. Your fall off the bed didn’t do anything to help it. You had willingly let Pepper help you clean up, but other than that you were still fighting asking for help.

The Team had tried to lift your spirits at lunch out in the common area, but to no avail. After that, you were taken to your regular room, where a twin bed had been added.

“What’s that?” You asked, you hadn’t spoken since the bathroom. 

“Someone is going to stay in here with you until things start becoming normal again,” Steve replied, pushing the wheelchair further into the room. 

“Normal,” you scoffed.

“Buck and I were thinking we could have a movie night today. Maybe try and watch all of the—“

“I just want to sleep.”

“That’s okay too.”

“I would be here too kid,” Tony added, “but Pep and I are working out somethings with the physical therapist.”

“What’s the point of physical therapy? My legs don’t work.”

“It’s to keep your muscles, so that one day you can get braces.”

You nodded, glancing around until you were staring at your tennis shoes on the floor. They were brand new, Stark designed shoes. They were meant to not wear as fast because of your speeding abilities. Your speeding abilities that you could no longer access.

“Can you do something with those?” You asked, pointing at them. 

Both Tony and Steve looked over. They got a tad deflated after remembering how excited you had been about those shoes.

“Yeah, sure, kid,” Tony responded, grabbing them. “I’ll just put them up in your closet. We can—“

“No,” you interrupted. “I want them gone.”

“Y/N—“

“I don’t need any reminders of what I’m now unable to do.”

“Sweetheart,” Tony got down in front of you, “you can still, or will be able to, do a lot. You got lucky.” He immediately regretted his last sentence, even Steve flinch.

“I got lucky? I. Got. Lucky?”

“Y/N, that’s not what—“

“Get the hell out!”

“Hey, that’s not how you talk to your—“

“My what? Father?! Cause you aren’t, remember? Maybe you should take Helen’s advice and give me away! Might make it easier on everyone!”

“You are my daughter, damn it! Whether it’s official or not, or by blood!”

“Y/N, Tony—“ Steve tried to interrupt. 

“No! I actually will say that you got lucky. You did because you have people willing to help you, willing to support you.”

“Well stop!” You shouted back. “Have you ever thought that I don’t want any of your help?! Maybe I think that you should have just left me down there to die! It would have been better that way! I’m basically useless like this!”

“Enough!” Bucky yelled, barging in with Nat. “Steve, Tony, out.”

With a glare sent their way from Nat, the two men didn’t even argue. You were refusing to look at Bucky and Nat. Half embarrassed that you said those things to the men you considered your dads, and half embarrassed that you were believing the terrible thoughts your mind was taunting you with.

Bucky and Natasha looked at each other, unsure of what exactly to do. You let them help you into bed before they left you alone, leaving with a promise to bring food later. 

In the loneliness of your bedroom, you let your thoughts consume you. How you were now useless as an Avenger without being able to have super speed. How you wished they would have just let you die. How you wish they wouldn’t be so helpful, it was driving you crazy. How you really didn’t have any family, you were all alone.

~~~

To respect your boundaries, Tony and Steve decided to let the others help them. No matter how hard it was. It hurt them to see you struggling through everything and not rush to your side. Not that you would let them help, you weren’t letting anyone without putting up a fight.

Steve and Tony had had many talks since they realized you were wishing that you had just died. Tony had made sure that FRIDAY had surveillance on you 24/7 and the Team, besides Tony and Steve, were switching sleeping in your room every night. 

It wasn’t easy on anyone, especially since you were having nightmares about being stuck down in the debris. Someone would wake you from the dream, only to be quickly shut out. The terrors would leave you trembling, sweating, and in a state of panic. But, with you not willing to let people help, the others were forced to watch you struggle with this.

Physical and occupational therapy was a whole other issue. You were rude to the therapists and unwilling to do anything. As the weeks went by, the Team could see the affect it was happening on your legs and they were concerned. Steve and Tony would watch each session from above, angry at the whole situation.

It had been two months since the whole incident, and you still weren’t showing any signs of changing your attitude any time soon.

“Come on, Y/N,” your therapist sighed. “What I’m asking you to do isn’t all that hard. I’m going to do all the work.”

“No,” you stated, determined.

“Y/N—“

“Why don’t you go help someone who’s more able to do things? Maybe someone who will actually get better. I’m sure they’d love your help."

“I can’t watch this anymore,” Tony said to Steve, watching from above. “She’s hurting herself.”

“You know we can’t force her to do anything, Tony,” Steve replied. “We have to let her do this on her own.”

“No, we don’t.” Tony turned around and headed for the room you were currently in.

“Tony! What are you going to do?”

“Use the hate she is harboring towards what happened, towards us, for her benefit.”

Tony burst into the room, causing you and the therapist to jump. You furrowed your brows, confused at what Tony and Steve could possibly be doing here.

“Hand me your leg, Y/N,” Tony demanded.

“What? No,” you responded.

“Hand me your damn leg!”

“No!”

“Fine!” Tony marched over and picked you up from your wheelchair.

“Put me down!” You tried to push off Tony. “Let me go!”

“Tony!” Steve called. “What are you doing?”

“It’s time for some tough love,” Tony responded. He set you down, not gently, on a therapy table. He grabbed your leg and began doing the exercises.

“Let go of me!” You demanded, trying to reach and pry him away, but failing. 

“No! Don’t you see what you are doing to yourself? What you’re doing to those around you?! You are miserable and you are making others miserable! Yes, what happened to you was absolute shit. Trust me, Steve and I will have that guilt with us for the rest of our lives. But it’s up to you to decide how to come out of this. You ever fight to live, fight to find the new normal, or you let yourself whither away. And I’m not about to let that last one happen.”

“You may think you’re alone in this, but you aren’t,” Tony continued. “Steve and I, the Team, we all want to help you through this. Even if that means sticking with you for life.”

During Tony’s whole thing, you had began crying. He was right, you were making yourself and everyone around you miserable.

“I’m sorry,” you cried out. “I’m so sorry… I just… I just wish…”

“I know, honey, I know,” Tony said, moving to pull you into his chest. You melted into him, crying. He placed a kiss on your head. “I’ve got you… I’ve got you.”

“Don’t leave me, Dad.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve came over and grabbed one of your hands, gently kissing it. You gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Pa,” you croaked.

“It’s okay,” Steve replied with a tiny smile. “No need to apologize. Just please don’t say that you would have rather died again. I don’t think I could take it if you did.”

“If I died or said it again?”

“Both.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Will you guys… uh, will you guys help me with my exercises?”

“Of course, honey,” Tony replied. “But maybe Steve should do the other leg, because I think I wore myself out.”

Steve stood. “I’ll exercise that leg better than you could, Stark,” he commented.

“Oh, you’re on, Rogers.” Tony swiftly stood up.

“Great,” you muttered. “Now this is going to be a thing.”

~~~

Now that you were accepting help, things were beginning to look up again. Not that things weren’t hard, but they were better and you could handle it all better. The Team had decided to celebrate, but wouldn’t tell you how. Wheeling your wheelchair into the common area, you found it pitch black.

“FRIDAY,” you called out to the AI, “can I get some lights?”

“Of course,” the AI responded.

The lights came on and suddenly you were being pelted with water from squirt guns. The Team came out of their hiding spots, laughing, as they continued to fire at you.

“Guys!” You squealed, trying to shield yourself. “Guys! St-stop!”

“Never!” Sam exclaimed as he made his way closer to you.

“Here,” Peter said, lowering himself from the ceiling. “Take this.” He offered you a large gun. “Save yourself.”

You laughed as you began to fight back. Suddenly, you were pulled backwards by both Steve and Tony, who were trying to use you and the chair as protection.

“They’ve turned against us!” Tony exclaimed.

“Help us, Y/N!” Steve added.

You couldn’t stop laughing as you, Tony and Steve worked together to try and defeat the others. The Team couldn’t stop smiling as they watched you act so happy. It was so refreshing. After the common room was all but turned into a pool, the Team decided to change and then meet down in the movie room to relax for the night. When Y/N had arrived down there, Tony and Steve had saved a place between them.

“Can I help you onto the couch?” Steve asked.

You responded with a nod and let Steve pick you up, wrapping your arms around his neck. He carefully guided you through the maze of lodging teammates to the spot him and Tony had chosen on the couch.

“Thanks Pa,” you said as he set you down. You pulled your legs up close to you.

“Not a problem,” he smiled, sitting down beside you.

Tony spread a blanket over you guys. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Of course,” Tony responded, leaving a little kiss on your forehead.

You curled up against Tony as Steve moved your legs to rest over his lap, allowing him to massage them. FRIDAY quickly turned on your favorite movie. You glanced around, taking in everyone around you, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Though your life was going to continue to have its challenges, you were glad you had found this family.

Part 2

[emeren]

speed racer- eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader 

word count: 6k

content warnings: nsfw, smut, 18+, smoking, degradation, overstimulation, breeding (w/o baby talk) 

notes: 100% inspired by the official art, like mmm yes please. also i know absolutely nothing about how car racing works, but that’s not important. this is unedited because my brain turned to mush writing it. enjoy!! <3

SUMMARY: eren’s a semi-professional car racer, who has a tumultuous friendship with the reader. after losing a race, eren sets out to win something else in his life, much to the reader’s surprise. 

“took you long enough!” sasha called out, holding her hand above her eyes in an attempt to block out the bright sun. you dished her a smile, weaving your way through the throngs of people in the stands, attempting not to step on anyone. your eyes briefly flitted to the track, the assistants distantly getting their cars ready. they were hardly visible from here; merely faceless figures idling around. you heaved out a sigh as you reached sasha, the brunette gingerly patting the spot next to her. 

“you couldn’t have gotten better seats, sash?” you asked as you sat down, pushing your sunglasses on top of your head. sasha waved her large bag of popcorn in front of your face, an exasperated expression on her features. 

“the line was long, and what’s a race without popcorn?” she grinned, offering you the bag. you rolled your eyes but took a fistful of the bright yellow snack nonetheless. “plus, if you really wanted that good of seats, you would’ve come early yourself.” 

“i did come here early,” you retorted, your voice muffled by the popcorn. sasha raised a questioning brow, her elbow nudging you in the side. 

“getting here early just so you can poke around the racer’s quarters is not the same thing,” she singsonged, a girlish smirk on her face. you scoffed, turning away from her as you felt heat race to your cheeks. “c’mon, everyone knows you and eren are totally into each other. i don’t understand why you guys don’t just go for it.” 

“i wasn’t poking around, and i am not into eren,” you said, shifting uncomfortably as the words left your mouth. it was true, to some degree. the two of you had been friends in high school, back when eren was just some skinny kid with anger issues. now he was a semi-professional racer, and the rivalry between the two of you was palpable, to say the least.

you’d been in the same friend group and for some reason eren just loved to pick on you whenever he got the chance. you suspected it had something to do with his repressed daddy issues or whatever, and he’d known mikasa and armin far too long to be so catty with them. initially they were just playful taunts, but as you got older, they started to become more personal. with age came your own unchecked need to banter and argue with him. 

somewhere along the way the arguments turned to sexual tension. a sexual tension that for the most part, the two of you were happy to ignore. it allowed room for a more sassy friendship, at least. 

“uh huh, suuure,” sasha responded, seemingly unconvinced. she must’ve sensed your discomfort, deciding to change the topic. “who’s who?” 

your eyes traced the track, analyzing each vehicle. “armin’s in yellow, mikasa’s in red, eren’s in white, and i believe levi is in green.” 

“levi’s racing? isn’t he getting a little old for that?” sasha laughed, squinting. you chuckled. 

“it’s just a small fundraiser race, plus he’s a crowd favorite over here,” you explained. sasha nodded as she processed the information. the sun was hot, beating down on your back. “i’m honestly surprised this many people came out.” 

sasha tossed more popcorn in her mouth, halfway done with the bag despite the race still not having started. she offered it to you again. “mhm, this is the same type of crowd that we’d see in the underground.” 

you thought back to your days of attending the illegal races, late at night and under the cover of darkness. though you were just a junior in college, it felt like those nights freshman year had been decades ago. that was before eren showed real promise in the professional circuit. it was also where levi scouted him out to be his successor. 

as if on cue, you could see the figures of the racers emerging from the port, each headed for their respective cars. you couldn’t help the way your gaze immediately followed the tall, brown haired racer adorned in his white racing jacket, checkers on the side. the crowd erupted into cheers at the sight of the all the racers, one from each color of the rainbow. eren walked with a certain confidence, his adamant determination being one of the only things that followed him from high school. 

though you couldn’t clearly see his face from where you sat, you knew he was smiling. eren had always loved the adrenaline rush before a race. 

“alright ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to the annual shiganshina fundraiser race!” the reporter boomed over the intercom. sasha squealed in her seat, excitedly gripping your arm and pointing towards your friends. you felt a mix of excited nervousness waft over you, giggling along with her. “today we’ve got racers from all over the circuit, and each one has volunteered their precious time for the cause. can we get a round of applause?” 

the crowd erupted in yet another ear deafening round of applause as the announcer read off the names of each of the racers. you and sasha made sure to scream your loudest when armin, mikasa, and eren’s names were read off. 

you hoped they knew it was you, your throat scratchy as you sat back down. there was no need to be loud for levi; the entire crowd went absolutely feral at the mention of his name. 

the announcer read off the conditions of the race, as well as the reasoning for the fundraiser itself. you and sasha chatted quietly about the after party while the racers put their helmets on and got in their cars. before too long, the announcer was gearing up for the start. 

“alright everyone, we’re about to start. get yourselves ready.” 

you and sasha stood, hollering and cheering for your friends as the cars all lined up. you knew you’d be happy if any of them crossed the finish line first, but it was undeniable that it would be eren. it wasn’t armin or mikasa’s passion like it was eren’s; they viewed it more as as fun hobby. nevertheless, you dreaded how smug eren would be once he added another win to his already growing list. he really was a bastard sometimes. 

“racers ready your cars. 3... 2... 1... go!” 

they were off, levi’s green car easily settling into first place, cruising past the other cars as he whipped around the first curve. you held your breath, eyes scanning the other cars placements. eren was in fourth, armin in fifth, and mikasa in second. sasha yelled sporadically, reaching out and squeezing your wrist tightly. 

as they rounded the circuit for the second time, eren passed the third place racer, coming up behind mikasa’s red car. you held your breath. “c’mon eren...” 

“shit! he passed her!” sasha screeched, jumping up and down. you smiled as he whipped the corner, nearly cutting the edge of the median. 

“levi is still so far ahead,” you commented, trying to pry sasha’s death grip from your wrist. your eyes glanced to the clock, realizing that the race was near its finish. levi was cutting the third corner and eren was quickly gaining on him. 

“looks like it’s gonna be clo-” sasha’s voice was cut off as a large man tripped over the bleacher behind you, effectively shoving you into her side. “shit, the popcorn!” 

you regained your balance, giving the man behind you a dirty glare as you turned to sasha. she frowned at the popcorn that’d been spilled all over the ground. “what a waste!” 

looking back up at the track, the crowd broke into screams of excitement. you expected to see eren’s face on the big screen to the side as confetti streamed through the air, but were surprised to see levi’s unimpressed stare. 

eren lost? 

“you’ve gotta be shitting me,” sasha gaped, her face slack in shock. you shrugged, shaking the feeling of disappointment from your shoulders. serves him right. 

people started to vacate the stands, shoving their way past you as you turned to sasha. “let’s go find connie and jean, sash.” 

she nodded, still frowning. the two of you climbed down the steps, going against the flow of the crowd as you weaseled your way down onto the spectators path. you could see all of the racers shaking hands, congratulating each other. your mind briefly considered whether or not eren was going to be upset, but you decided not to dwell on it. 

you watched as the racers disappeared into the tunnel, eren’s tall figure no longer in view. just then, connie and jean came walking out from the service booth, both wearing their maintenance coveralls. 

sasha wildly waved her arm, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the remaining stragglers towards your friends. 

“hey guys!” she smiled, the boys jogging to meet you halfway. 

“why were you guys in such shit seats?” connie asked, skipping over a greeting. you let out a small laugh at sasha’s expense. she merely shrugged, turning to jean. 

“we going to your place?” you questioned before she had the chance. jean nodded, adjusting the backwards baseball cap on his head. 

“yeah, just gotta wrap some things up, then we can head out,” he replied. you grew happy at the thought of kicking back with your friends, enjoying a nice night of fun. parties at jean and connie’s place were always the best. 

***************

“some race that was,” connie groaned, leaning back and bringing the beer bottle to his lips. so far it was just you, sasha, connie, jean, and a bunch of random drunk people who’d come from the track. sasha scoffed from her spot on the worn, brown couch. 

“you could say that again,” she grumbled. “we didn’t even get to see levi cross the finish line ‘cause some guy rammed into us.” 

jean looked at you from where he leaned against the wall, a bottle in his hand and his eyebrows raised. “wait, for real?” 

“yeah,” you sighed, drinking whatever bitter liquid sasha had poured into your red solo cup. “didn’t even say sorry.” 

“how many times do i have to tell you guys, just come work maintenance with jean-boy and i,” connie suggested, wrapping his arm around sasha’s shoulder and giving a squeeze. she rolled her eyes and shoved him off. “you guys would get to watch the race from the track itself.” 

“i don’t know the first thing about cars,” sasha laughed, you nodding along with her. 

“and you think we do? i just said that so we could get the best seats in the house,” connie snorted, taking another swig of his drink. you chuckled at his idiocy, unfazed by yet another one of their stupid stunts. “where’re the big racers anyway?” 

“they should be here soon,” you responded, glancing out the window. jean was unironically blasting the fast and the furious soundtrack, something he’d done after every race for as long as you’d known him. by now the songs were ingrained in your brain. 

“who wants to bet jaeger is in a pissy mood?” jean snorted as he moved to sit down on the arm of the chair you were planted in. 

“when isn’t he?” you sneered. connie and sasha hummed in agreement. both you and jean loved nothing more than to push eren’s buttons. you knew jean’s motives stemmed from some boyish fun, whereas yours felt a little more personal. 

the sound of clapping began to compete with the music, your neck craning to look past jean into the hallway. eren, armin, and mikasa came into view, people cheering them on and patting them on the back. they each wore their racing jackets over their street clothes. 

you felt a familiar sensation burn in your stomach at the sight of eren. his dark hair was pulled back per usual, wispies framing his tan face. The white jacket stood out against his black t-shirt and black jeans; key necklace he always wore glinting against his chest. as your gaze travelled up from his body, you were startled to make contact with his teal eyes. you quickly glanced away in embarrassment. 

“well, well, well,” jean cheered, raising his bottle to the trio. “how’d it feel to lose to a short, old man, eh jaeger?”

eren scowled, obviously peeved. “if i had to lose to anyone, i’m glad it was levi.” 

connie snorted at that. “man, professional circuit has you soft.” 

“whatever you say, baldie,” eren smirked mischievously as he came to sit down on the couch. connie defensively rubbed his head. “at least i’m making money in prof.” 

“i still can’t believe you have people that actually want to sponsor you,” you snipped, a playful expression on your face. eren lazily looked towards you, the familiar irritation laced in his eyes. 

“i’m sorry, what was that? i wasn’t listening to you,” eren retorted, looking as unbothered as ever. you glared at his words, but caught armin’s disapproving eye and decided to stay quiet. 

as the night carried on, you watched your friends relax and reminisce about previous races and the days spent in the illegal ring. it seemed crazy that your life was so centered around car races, when you weren’t even a racer yourself. but you supposed you were just happy to be supporting your friends.

at some point you got up out of your chair to refill your cup. the large hoards of people had started to dance; the house feeling hot and humid as you shoved your way to the kitchen. luckily the room was empty, save for armin who was drinking water out of the kitchen tap. 

“thirsty?” you asked, amused. his head snapped up, surprised by your voice. it took one look to tell he was absolutely trashed, face red and eyes half lidded. he smiled goofily and nodded his head before stumbling back out into the crowd of people. 

you quickly filled your cup, following the direction armin had gone. as you stepped out of the kitchen, a body came out of nowhere and smacked into you. 

eren jumped back, trying to avoid the liquid that sloshed out of your cup. “hey, watch it!” he hissed. 

“you watch it, casanova,” you snapped, irritated by the sticky alcohol that dripped down your hand. eren’s eyes narrowed at the nickname, his arms defensively crossing his chest. 

“i told you not to call me that,” he bit back, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. you rolled your eyes, instinctively bringing your hand to your mouth in an attempt to lick the drink off. eren watched you, his gaze clouded with an indiscernible emotion. you knew what you were doing. 

“hm. too bad,” you quipped, dragging your tongue down the side of your hand, popping your pointer finger in your mouth. eren glowered at you as you let out a giggle. “see ya, loser.” 

“whatever, brat,” he huffed, shaking the tension from his pants as you sauntered off into the crowd. he hated the effect you had on him.

you’d already decided not to get shit faced. while the rest of your friends had chosen otherwise, you danced alongside them, your resolve wearing thin much faster than theirs. jean and sasha bounced happily up and down, screaming the lyrics to whatever song it was blasting from the speakers. connie and mikasa were playing beer pong, and you had no clue where armin and eren had gone.

you heaved in a breath as a sharp pain shot through your side, signaling the end of your dancing career for the night. your two dance partners were too far gone to notice, waving goodbye to you as you stepped out of the sweaty crowd. 

slipping your phone out of your pocket, your eyes nearly popped from your head at the time. two thirty?!

only slightly tipsy, you decided to find jean’s room and call it a night. he’d just have to sleep on the couch. with one hand dragging on the wall, you made your way through the house, past armin who was doing body shots with a couple of strangers, up the stairs and down the dark hall. it was quieter up here, but you could still hear the music and knew it’d be awhile till sleep visited you. 

shoving jean’s door open, you were surprised to see none other than eren laid back on the bed, puffs of smoke coming from his mouth. the strong scent of weed hit your nostrils, nose scrunching up in reflex. he propped himself up on one arm upon your entrance, eyeing you. 

“oh, sorry i’ll just- wait a minute,” you paused, narrowing your eyes at him. “you aren’t supposed to be smoking on your sponsorship.” 

eren let out a loud laugh at that, more smoke spilling from his lungs. “thanks, mom. i know.” 

you stood in the doorway, not really sure what to do. “jean’s gonna be mad if his room smells like weed tomorrow.” 

“yeah, why do you think i chose to do it in here?” he leered, bringing the blunt to his lips and deeply inhaling, sharp cheekbones protruding with the action. you sucked in a breath, not wanting to acknowledge just how gorgeous he was. his jacket was off, black shirt tightly gripping his muscular yet slender arms as he propped himself up. he blew the smoke from his nostrils this time, making your face heat. “wanna hit?”  

you sighed, weighing the options. jean’s bed was a lot more comfortable than connie’s. you could just wait till eren was done, and then pass out. “no, but i’ll wait with you till you’re done.” 

“suit yourself, brat,” eren hummed, flopping back down on the bed as you shut the door behind yourself. you came to sit by him, looking down as he heaved in a sober breath. he really is beautiful, you thought. 

your eyes scanned his face. “you really shouldn’t be smoking, you know. you could lose the sponsorship.” 

eren rolled his teal eyes, giving you a side glance. “i’m aware. i’m also aware that you aren’t going to rat on me.” 

“and what makes you so sure?” you asked playfully, your voice low. eren’s gaze shifted to you, placing the blunt between his lips as he sat up, face inches from yours. 

“because. you can act like you hate me all you want,” smoke blew from his lips as he spoke, slowly inching his face closer to yours. you swallowed, eyes struggling to maintain contact with his dark stare. “but i know how badly you want me.” 

you blinked, heart rate accelerating as he glanced at your lips. “speaking from experience?” 

eren’s mouth quirked up in a smirk at your words. “something like that.”

you watched with desire as he brought the bud of the blunt up to his lips, deeply inhaling the toxic smoke. he lifted his free hand, pointer finger gently tracing your jaw as his thumb came up to caress your chin. he tapped softly against your face, as if asking you to open your mouth. 

you weren’t sure what part of you was wanting to submit to his every move. maybe it was the alcohol. or maybe it was the accumulation of sexual tension. something told you it was a deeper itch that needed to be scratched. an itch only eren could reach. 

you parted your lips, eyes fluttering as eren leaned forward and carefully brushed his own against yours, dumping his lungful of smoke into your mouth. you breathed it in, fighting the urge to cough and whine as he pulled away. 

“good girl,” he breathed, leaning away to snuff the bud out on jean’s bedside table. you heaved out as much as you could, shocked by your own willingness. you were mainly surprised by how much you enjoyed whatever that was. 

you stared at him expectantly as he turned back to you, a serious expression on his face. “eren.” 

“yes?” he asked, leaning heavily on his arm, eyes unashamedly focused on your lips. his other hand came up again, lightly ghosting your jawline. you could feel yourself growing wet between your legs; the way eren was fucking you with his eyes sending an unwelcomed throb to your clit. 

acting on impulse, you lurched forward, latching your lips onto eren’s slightly chapped ones. he wasted no time in kissing you back; hungrily pressing himself closer to your body. his lips were warm and tasted like weed and coca cola, his tongue wiggling its way into your mouth where you happily welcomed it. 

you brought your hand up, wanting to run your fingers through his hair, but were stopped when they got caught in the bun. eren grunted, kissing you harder and bringing his own hand up to yank the tie from his locks, letting his soft hair fall to his shoulders. 

your fingers were quick to glide through the brown strands, scratching his scalp in the process. some throaty sound emitted from his chest, the noise making your cunt ache in need. how is he so hot? 

eren’s hands came to your waist, roughly shoving you down onto the bed, so that he hovered above you. your lips continued to meld together, saliva coated mouths wetly intertwined. you removed your hand from his hair, bringing both hands to run down the expanse of his arms that were on either side of your head. you squeezed his biceps, surprised when he suddenly pulled away. 

“is this okay?” he panted, breaths labored. his pupils were dilated, all seriousness behind his gaze. you nodded your head without hesitation, practically begging him to continue. “words.”

“yes, yes. i want this just as much as you do,” you responded. eren smirked from above you, his dark hair swirling around his face as his key dangled in front of your chin. 

“good, because,” he leaned down to your ear, lightly nibbling the lobe as the cold key rested against your throat. “i’m going to punish you for all these years of torture.” 

your eyes widened, the words sending a desirable chill down your spine. “torture?” 

eren’s hot mouth travelled slowly from your ear down the side of your neck, lightly peppering the skin with lustful kisses. his tongue came out as he reached your collarbone, dragging the wet muscle up the front of your throat, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake. a small whimper involuntarily left your mouth as he pulled back, grabbing your chin in his large hand.  

“all of the nicknames,” he pressed a kiss to your lips. “the quips,” and another, your chest tightening. “the stunt you pulled earlier with your hand. oh god. it’s like you were practically begging me to bend you over and teach you a lesson.” 

he pulled back, dark eyes boring into yours. the desire was palpable, your breathing shallow as he stared at you. it was like he was waiting for some silent agreement. 

you held eye contact, tilting your chin back ever so slightly in his grip. “good thing i learn fast.” 

your words flew straight to his cock, throbbing uncomfortably behind his jeans. eren let go of your chin, his lips hungrily reconnecting with yours as his hands pinned your wrists to either side of your head. his tongue was quick to invite itself into your mouth, warm and erotic. 

you wanted to tug on his hair again; wanted to hear his primal groans and feel him vibrate against your mouth, but you were pinned to the bed. desperate to hear eren moan, your teeth grazed his bottom lip, the action making him yank his head back. 

“tsk tsk, none of that,” he growled, wet lips glinting in the low light of the room. “this is your punishment. guess we’re going to have to do something else.” 

you frowned as he let go of your wrists, lifting himself from the bed and standing. you propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes laced with desire as eren swiftly pulled the black shirt over his head, key pendant resting on his newly exposed chest. he was dangerously attractive like this; dark hair disheveled on his shoulders, only adding to the feral stare he was giving you. 

he leaned forward, grabbing your thighs and yanking you to the end of the bed, legs dangling from the side. you watched in awe as he dropped to his knees, fingers coming up to toy with the button of your jean shorts. 

“these little shorts make your ass look so good,” he grumbled, tapping the button. “be good and take them off for me.” 

you wasted no time in lifting your ass off the bed, struggling to yank the denim down your legs without hitting eren in the face. he watched your every movement, licking his lips as you wiggled them off. 

without thinking, your hands gripped the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head to reveal a black bra. eren’s pupils dilated further at the unexpected sight of your breasts. 

he helped pull the shorts from your ankles, tossing them aside as you sat back down, just in your panties and bra. you paused for a moment, unsure of what he was planning to do. 

“watch me,” he demanded, staring at you through his brows. you nodded your head, breath hitching as he placed an open mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, tongue swiping against the smooth skin. 

his eyelashes fluttered as he licked up your leg; just the way he looked at you being enough to have you creaming in your lace panties. your teeth tugged at your bottom lip, the burning in your face mirroring the way your clit throbbed along with your heart beat. 

eren’s tongue trailed until he reached the edge of your underwear, eyes never failing to stay connected with yours. you swallowed as he lifted his head, placing his tongue flatly against your clothed clit. 

it was a warm, muted feeling, your body all too aware of the beautiful man between your legs. eren brought his fingers up, hooking under the fabric and pushing it to the side. 

“so wet for me already,” he hummed, a smile on his face. you blushed in embarrassment, the feeling of his breath on your glistening pool of moisture making you shiver. “’m gonna eat you so good, little bitch.” 

you gasped as eren rapidly brought his face down, burying his head between your legs. the sensation was like no other; a swirling feeling in your stomach as his tongue hungrily swiped against your clit. your hands flew down to his hair, tugging as his lips wrapped around the bud, suckling softly. 

a moan escaped your lips, the sound causing eren to groan out in reply. the vibration of his vocal cords against your center amplifying the pleasure. 

a distinct feeling began to burn in your chest, the sloppiness of eren’s tongue licking up your slick causing your legs to squirm, tightening around his head. “fuck.”

eren pulled back at the pressure against his skull, a smack sounding through the air as he released his suction on your wet cunt. 

“i told you to be good,” he hissed, lips coated in your sheen. you knew the image of eren’s face between your legs, hair disheveled and mouth swollen, eyes dark and lustrous, would be burned into the back of your brain. 

flustered, you nodded your head, spreading your legs so they weren’t pressing against his face. he nodded in content, arms coming up to wrap around your thighs to keep you steady. 

and he was back; eating your pussy like he hadn’t been fed in years, a primal desperation. he pressed his tongue down harder, the cry ripping from your throat at the sensation only egging him on. you struggled against his grip as he abused your clit with his mouth, sucking and tracing his teeth over it so good. 

his tongue slid down to your entrance, shoving itself in without invitation. the fullness wasn’t like having sex; it was a heated, swirling feeling. the wet muscle circled around your spongey walls, your face beginning to burn and hands growing clammy in eren’s hair. 

you threw your head back as his ministrations sped up, your hips attempting to grind into his face. the warmth in the pit of your stomach building like a loaded gun, ready to release itself. 

all it took was the added pressure of his hand wrapping around your thigh so that his thumb could press against your clit, feverishly rubbing. you came crashing down, your eyes screwing shut as the wave of dopamine stretched to every part of your body, legs jerking against his hold. 

eren pulled his head back again, a smile on his wet face as he licked your release from his lips. “tasted so good, so good for me.” 

you breathed out in reply as he came back up above you, gently taking your chin and bringing his mouth down to yours. 

the kiss was small and simple, your eye lids growing heavy. you could taste your bitter release on him, the unfamiliar flavor not completely unpleasant. 

“sleepy?” eren mumbled against your lips, coming back to look at you. you nodded your head, eyes catching on the key that dangled from his neck. “too bad. we aren’t done with your punishment yet.” 

you frowned, your body suddenly more awake than it was before. “huh?” you asked, sitting up as eren shifted to pull his jeans off. 

you weren’t sure what you expected when he yanked both his jeans and boxers down; you guessed you’d always thought his anger issues were compensation for something. the realization dawned on you that eren had nothing to compensate for as his cock sprung from his pants, the sheer size making your mouth water. 

a smirk crossed his face as he stepped from his jeans. “enjoying the view?” 

“what? no,” you scoffed, averting your gaze. eren crawled back over you, his bare length pressing into your stomach as his hands came up to unclasp your bra. 

“don’t be shy, this is your punishment after all,” he whispered, pulling the cups from your chest. his eyes unashamedly scanned your breasts, a smile tugging his lips as he gave them a generous squeeze. 

you tried to ignore the imprint of him on your stomach; but it was nearly impossible. you could feel the spot between your legs grow wet again, arousal already weaseling its way back into your system.

eren brought his lips to yours once again, the kisses much sloppier and desperate than before. he grunted as you shifted to lay back down, his exposed dick rubbing against your stomach. “can’t wait to be inside of you,” he mumbled against your lips. 

you whimpered at his words, his lips melding with your own while he simultaneously tugged your panties down your legs. he propped himself up with one arm, the other positioning the tip of his cock at the entrance of your already throbbing cunt. 

you took a deep breath as he slowly eased himself into you; the sheer stretch making your eyes lull back in your head. eren moved his hips slowly at first, loosening you up. he was watching your expressions; his eyelids heavy and mouth slightly agape. 

“shit, you’re so tight,” he groaned, hips starting to move faster as he gazed down at you. you swallowed, closing your eyes as he sent one particularly hard thrust, cock nearly ramming your cervix. “you good?” 

“mhm,” you responded, bringing your hands up to grab his hair. “just so big.” 

eren let out a breathy chuckle at that, eyes traveling down to your pelvis where his dick was visibly creating a bump with every thrust. he placed his hand on your stomach, pressing down as he bucked his hips violently forwards. he was so deep. 

you cried out at the feeling of his length sliding in and out of your cunt, your walls clenching around him as your hands clawed at his muscular back. 

he was filling you up so good, a moan leaving his lips as your enhanced arousal unexpectedly brought your second orgasm down, tears pricking your eyes. eren kept abusing your pussy, his thrusts growing senseless before he buried himself deep within you, releasing his load inside of your exhausted center. 

both of your breathing was labored, eren looking up at the ceiling. his face was flushed as he recovered, you laying limply beneath him trying to regain your composure yourself. 

“that felt so good,” you admitted, bringing your hand up from his back to caress his angular face. eren frowned at your words, large hand grabbing your wrist and removing it from his jawline. 

“m’not tired yet,” he said seriously, your eyes widening as he placed a chaste kiss to your lips. your fucked out face beneath him had his dick already hardening again. “m’not gonna be tired till i win.” 

he suddenly pulled up, hooking his hands under your knees and pushing your legs up by your head. the action strained your muscles, the feeling of eren’s cum dripping down your ass filling your head as he readied himself to fuck you senseless. 

he stared at your cunt; at the way his cum was oozing out of it, the abused pussy ready to take him in again. he used his fingers to catch the drip, forcing it back inside of you. the thought of filling you up all nice and pretty sent him over the edge, his hand shamelessly guiding his cock back inside of you.

eren was meaner this time; each thrust was deep and deliberate, hitting your cervix and making you cry out in pleasure. the burning sensation in your clit was overwhelming, your mouth hanging open as eren slowly fucked you stupid. 

“good, pretty girl” eren breathed out, ramming his hips into yours. “took her punishment like such a good girl.” 

you tried to nod your head, but you couldn’t move. the feeling of hot, sticky tears rolled down your face, eren’s cock deep within you almost too much to bear. he grabbed your chin, tongue swiping up your cheek as he savored the salty flavor on his tastebuds. this man and his licking. 

“tell me, did you learn your lesson?” eren grunted in your ear, hand still gripping your chin. you tried to form a sentence, fucked beyond words. “hm, use your words and i’ll let you cum.” 

one more deep thrust and his dick stopped its strokes, pausing within you. “yes... yes.” 

“yes what?” 

your tongue was heavy in your mouth, pussy all too aware of eren’s length within it. “i learned my lesson, you won.” 

he smirked, aggressively bucking his hips into your weak cunt, the action making you cry out as he rammed your cervix. the tears continued to roll down your cheeks as eren’s dick twitched, spurting the his seed into you. your third release followed his, your clit spasming from the overstimulation. 

eren heaved himself out of you, collapsing deftly onto the bed. the two of you sat in a heated silence, your face sticky from the tears. eren glanced to you, eyes trailing down your body. 

“i’ll get a rag,” he mumbled, shoving off the bed and walking into jean’s bathroom. you were beyond exhausted and knew that you’d be sore tomorrow. eren reemerged, quickly cleaning you up and handing you your shirt. 

your eyes lazily watched him as he walked over and locked the door; brain too tired to form a sentence. 

he must’ve noticed your concern. “we can sleep in here tonight; i don’t think you’re in any shape to move.” 

you carefully crawled into the sheets, not even bothering to put your shirt back on. eren followed suit, climbing in behind you. 

“night,” he whispered as he shut the bedside light off. your lids were growing heavy, a smile on your lips as you began to fall asleep. 

“night, casanova.” 

<3 <3 <3 

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [89]

v. welcome to bardo

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: language, death, blood, violence, anxiety, angst, sadness.

Summary: finally, after five years of training, you arrive in bardo. unfortunately, nothing goes according to plan.

a/n: thank you guys so much for the comments on the last chapter! I’m glad you all liked it! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

As the four of you move through the Anomaly, you switch into ghost mode so that you’re invisible when you arrive.

The move has the desired effect as the 4 people in the room, 1 conductor and 3 disciples, stare at the closed space of the Anomaly, confused as to why no one came through. You all creep across the room, taking the person in front of you, and you motion to attack all at the same time. Three bodies silently hit the ground at the same time, stunned and knocked out, but the fourth body lets out a groan, thudding as it hits the floor. All of you turn towards the body, eyes falling on the conductor, who is now bleeding out, and Gabriel calls out in shock, “Echo, what the hell are you doing?”

You all start to pull your helmets off, glaring at Echo until her voice comes from behind you, “It wasn't me.”

You turn and lock eyes with Echo, who is standing over the disciple that she knocked out, a man that is still very much alive, so you turn back to the figure standing over the dead conductor, staring at Hope in surprise. She takes in your expressions, before turning to stare at the dead body at her feet. “Without Orlando, we don't need to take unnecessary risks.”

“Leaving Orlando was the unnecessary risk.” Gabriel turns when he hears a stabbing sound to find Echo now killing the disciples. He glares at her, growing exasperated. “Echo, enough!”

She ignores him and glances over at you and Hope. “Take the conductor.”

You sigh, aware that there is not enough time to argue about this, and you walk over and grab the man’s legs as Hope hooks her arms beneath his. The two of you carry him over to a small storage closet located in the Stone Room. You hit the button and place the man inside as Echo and Gabriel bicker in the background. “Focus, we're on the clock.”

“Clock? We drilled for five years. We have thirty minutes to get to the cell block, get our people, and get back here before shift change. With Orlando opening the doors, the best we ever did was 28 minutes.”

Echo pauses and gives Gabriel a hard look. “Then I guess we'd better hurry.”

She drags one of the other disciples towards the closet, and you step out of the space to grab one of the others. On your way over to him, you see a scorch mark on the ground near the stone, one that you didn't notice before. “What the hell happened there?”

Gabriel comes up to your side, staring at the mark, before ignoring it and turning to look at you, appealing to the part of you that felt bad for Orlando. “Look, we all know this can't be done without an inside man.”

You shake your head at him. “Maybe so. But we have no way to get back to Orlando now.”

Echo pipes up from behind you, as she and Hope tuck the last body into the storage closet. “We have an inside man.”

You think immediately of the stories that Hope told you from her first rescue mission to save Octavia and Diyoza, and of the man that took a liking to Octavia: Levitt. You look between Echo and Hope, both of them clearly on the same page as well, and you ask, “What if he's not in M-Cap?”

“What if who's not in M-Cap?”

“The man who helped before, Levitt.” Gabriel nods at Hope in understanding, though you can tell that he doesn't like it. But he’s right, you all need an inside man, and without Orlando, you won't survive this mission to Bardo. And with no way to get back to Skyring to grab him, Levitt is your only option. 

The two of you exchange a look, agreeing before you look to Hope and Echo. “Let’s go. M-Cap's close, we won't lose much time.”

You all grab your helmets and pull them on, and then everyone follows you from the Stone Room, aware that you know the map of Bardo’s layout better than anyone. You could recite it in your sleep if you needed to. The four of you move through the halls quickly, making your way to M-Cap as fast as you can, your anxiety on high alert as you turn every corner, prepared to run into danger. On the speakers overhead, some sort of speech or prayer is being read out, though you tune it out, focusing on your current mission. You make it to the door of M-Cap with 28 minutes left, according to the timer counting down on the screen in your helmet. There are identical clocks in all of your helmets, just in case you get separated. 

But as you lift your hand to hit the button and open the door, an unfamiliar voice calls out from behind you, “You four, fall in. We're late.”

You turn and see a woman you don't know, a disciple, her helmet off and her expression stern. She is standing with a large group of disciples, their helmets still on, clearly headed somewhere. You, Hope, Gabriel, and Echo all exchange a look, and though you can't see it through the helmets, you know that all of you are looking at each other in surprise. The energy shifts, a collective decision being made that there are too many of them to fight off, so for now, you have to fall in line. They start heading towards the group, and you turn and look back at M-Cap one last time, itching to get the door open and see who’s inside. Levitt with Octavia? Or Diyoza? Or Bellamy? Your fiance, strapped to a chair, tortured for his memories as you stand just on the other side of the door, unable to reach him. 

The woman at the end of the hall calls out, “You too, disciple. Fall in!”

You turn and jog towards them, afraid to push your luck, falling in with the others as you march down the hall to an elevator, which carries you to the level containing the oxygen farm. You all file out of the elevator, the prayers and chanting growing louder as you follow the woman to a door, which she opens before turning and commanding, “Helmets off.”

You hesitate, worried that they’ll immediately pick all of you out as imposters, but you see the others removing their helmets, so you ultimately do the same. Nobody says a word, and you’re suddenly thankful for the sea of faces around you. Every single one of them is your enemy, but right now, they are helping to give you some much needed anonymity. You exchange a quick look with your friends before you follow the group into the arboretum, the chanting now reaching its peak volume. Situated inside a clearing of trees is a small stage, a man in all white standing upon it. Surrounding him is a large group of people, some in guard suits, some in white uniforms, all of them watching the man on the stage with awe. Something about it reminds you of Wonkru’s dedication to Blodreina, which immediately puts you on edge. 

You and your friends move through the crowd, stopping near the middle as you watch the scene in front of you. As Hope stares at the man on the stage, she mutters angrily to the rest of you, “That's Anders.”

You feel a chill run down your spine, aware of the role he plays in Hope’s stories from her time on Bardo, and you know that this is the last man you want to pick up on your presence here. You make a mental note to stay out of his line of sight as you listen to his speech. “Let's first take a moment to acknowledge our newest class of level 9s. You've each demonstrated impressive devotion to the Shepherd. Our predecessors on this planet did not share that faith. Like our ancestors on Earth, they destroyed their world. Even before they were wiped out by Gem 9 and turned into crystal giants, their atmosphere was so polluted, they were forced to build forests underground in order to breathe. Even the rain that should fall from the sky falls instead by their technology.”

You look up, towards the ceiling, towards the artificial rain that now hits your cheeks. It makes you long for Earth, wishing for nothing more than to be home, with everyone you love, all of this behind you. You shake the thought free, not wanting to get distracted from your current task, redirecting your focus back to Anders. “For that, we thank them, but where are they now? We know that by the time the Shepherd delivered us with the stone that the Bardoans were gone, extinct. Why is that?”

“They didn't have the Shepherd!”

Anders, and the crowd around you, laughs. Your expression remains stony, and you can hear Anders continue his lecture, though you don't notice, because Gabriel turns to you with a look of revelation. “He said the stone delivered them.”

“So?”

“So they weren't Eligius like I thought. There was a stone on Earth.”

You feel a look of surprise pass over your face, realizing that the whole time you lived on Earth, there was an Anomaly Stone somewhere with you, and you had no idea. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined any of this. But the realization comes with a darker truth, as you realize that maybe you weren't as close to Orlando as you originally thought. You turn to Gabriel and mutter, “That means Orlando didn't tell us everything.”

Echo, who is standing on Gabriel’s other side, looks between you both and mutters, “We should go.”

You nod in agreement, and you turn to your left to pass the message onto Hope, only to find that she is no longer standing in the same spot beside you. You turn back to Echo and Gabriel with a look of alarm. “Where's Hope?”

All of you look around, finding her signature short hair closer to the front, creeping towards Anders slowly. Echo jumps into action first, discreetly slipping through the crowd and reaching out for her, stopping her from whatever she’s planning to do. You and Gabriel watch on anxiously as they have a quiet conversation, and seconds later, Hope nods. Even from here, you can see tears in her eyes, and you can only imagine what is going through her head in the moment. As they start to slip back towards you, Anders' speech on stage starts to crescendo, steadily growing louder and more charged. “We're close now. We've located the Key. After hundreds of years, it has returned to us. Ours is the generation that will win the last war! As we fight this fight for all mankind!”

The Key? Your brows pull together, wondering what they’re talking about, but you don’t have time to consider it, because Echo and Hope finally reach you and Gabriel. At the same time, the crowd around you explodes with chaos. Everyone is yelling and jumping and cheering, one steady chant heard above the rest. “For all mankind! For all mankind! For all mankind!”

You start to get the same creeped out cult vibes that you got when you first landed on Sanctum, your early judgement of the people of Sanctum ultimately turning out to be correct after they tried to kill your twin and steal her body. You start to feel uneasy, the hairs on your arm and neck lifting in alarm, and you give the others a look before you motion towards the exit. They all nod, and you use the chaos of the celebration to sneak from the arboretum and back into the hall.

Luckily, everyone seems to be pretty preoccupied with the meeting in the woods, leaving the halls empty and easy to maneuver. You all move quickly through the levels, making your way back to M-Cap, reaching the room with only two minutes left. “We’re almost out of time.”

None of you want to spell out what that means for you or those you’ve come to rescue, so Hope mutters, “We’ll figure it out.”

You nod and place your hand on the scanner for the door, watching as it slides open, revealing a large white room. In the middle of the room is a chair, with a large scary needle hanging above it, and in that chair is a woman, her arm tattooed, her dark hair spilling over the sides. You pull off your helmet and run towards her, ignoring the man in the room as you stop at Octavia’s side, smiling down at her. “Octavia, it’s me.”

“I am not afraid. I am not afraid. I am not afraid.” She stares into the distance, repeating the mantra that she used when she would hide under the floor on the Ark. She doesn't seem to hear you, because she doesn't react to you at all. You put your hand on her arm as Hope comes to her aunt’s side, looking at her with worry. You turn your focus to the man in the room, calling out, “Levitt?”

He turns to face the four of you, and Hope shakes her head. “It’s not him.”

You step away from Octavia, letting Hope and Gabriel take over as you and Echo approach the man in the room. “Her brother, where is he?”

The man stares at you, saying nothing, fear evident in his eyes. Echo’s anger explodes, and she closes the space between them, pulling out her knife and pressing it to his cheek. “Show me, or I take an eye.”

He nods, his voice shaking with fear, “It’s on the security cameras, I have to pull it up.”

Echo gives him a look but releases him, standing close in case he does something he shouldn’t. He pulls up a folder, scrolling through until he clicks on a file titled ‘explosion’. You feel your stomach drop, your brain already moving back to the scorch mark in the Stone Room, and panic squeezes your chest tight as he enlarges the screen, moving the holographic picture until it’s in front of you. Just as you feared, the camera is in the Stone Room. On the picture in front of you, Bellamy stands beside the Anomaly Stone, a knife held to the conductor’s throat, and three injured disciples lay at his feet. The camera picks up on movement near the door, and Anders strolls in, followed by Octavia, a disciple holding a knife to her throat. Behind her is a dark haired man in all white, and you get the feeling that he is Levitt. As Octavia steps into view, you can see Bellamy’s expression change into one of shock, and she holds up her hand in a wave. “Hey, big brother.”

“Let her go right now.”

“We can't do that. These good men, who you killed, brought you here from Sanctum for a reason. Let the conductor go, and then we can talk.” 

Bellamy tightens his grip on the conductor, “Her first.”

“There's no other way out of this for you, Mr. Blake.”

Octavia, seemingly calm despite the tension in the room, adds, “Bell, he's right. Open the bridge and send him back to Sanctum. I'll tell you everything you want to know, even about Clarke.”

Clarke? What the hell do they want to know about Clarke? You turn and glance at Echo, who has now stopped at your side, looking equally as worried. On the screen, Bellamy seems just as confused at the mention of your twin. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Anders seems to consider the events in front of him, and he moves towards the stone, tapping symbols and activating the Anomaly, a green portal opening at your fiance’s back. Octavia glances at it, and then turns her pleading expression to her brother. “Bell, it's okay. I can't let you die to save me. Jump through, I'll be okay.”

“No way, not without you!”

And everything after that feels like it’s in slow motion for you. 

You see movement at the bottom of the screen, as one of the dead disciples turns out to be not quite dead, and he reaches for one of the grenades pinned to his side. He yells something about the Shepherd, but your brain doesn't process it, because your eyes are solely focused on Bellamy. The pin is pulled, there’s a flash of white, and as the light fades and the camera comes into focus, Bellamy, the pile of dead bodies, and the conductor are gone. Everyone else in the room is on the floor, Octavia included, recovering from the explosion, but Bellamy is gone. Killed before you could get here. Dead, because you couldn't save him in time. 

You feel emotion well up within you, too fast for Wanlida to stop as you turn your teary expression to Echo, who stands at your side, tears falling down her face. And seeing her crying confirms that she saw Bellamy die in the explosion too. Meaning it’s not some terrible dream that only you experienced. It's real and he’s gone.  

You turn to glance back at the others, not wanting to believe it. “That can't be real.”

They look over at you with pity, clearly sorry for you and the loss you're experiencing, but they say nothing. Octavia is sitting up, and now seems to be out of her daze, though she still seems groggy as she struggles to come to. But you don't focus on that, pain and anguish and anger bubbling up inside of you as you turn to look at the man in the room, not wanting to accept that your fiance is dead. “Is that real?”

He nods, confirming that it is, and the emotions inside of you explode. It’s like a volcano, spewing up and over the surface, too much for your mind or body to comprehend. You see a flash of red before the world clears again, and you realize your body is crossing the room, on autopilot, clearly honing in on one of the emotions. As you reach the man, you realize that your body has chosen anger, and your skin is electric with it. All of your pain and anguish is being transformed into sizzling, white hot anger, crackling around you and making you burn so bright you can't take it. You need to get it out, because you don't want to feel it anymore, all of it too much. The loss too much, the pressure too much, too much, too much, too much.

Wanlida takes over and channels your anger for you, and it's like you're watching your body move while you’re in the passenger seat. You see your arm grab the front of the man’s clothes before your other arms swings a punch towards him, hitting him in the face, knocking him off balance and into the chair that Octavia vacated a few moments ago. You can hear an alarm blaring in the background, and Gabriel yelling your name, telling you to stop, mentioning something about time, but you process none of it. You only process the emotions you feel, the anger inside of you, as you kick and punch the man repeatedly, watching as blood rises to the surface of his face and spreads with each new hit. You sense movement across the room, but you ignore it, only paying attention to it when strong arms wrap around you. Gabriel pulls you off of the man, the way he did when you were beating up Orlando five years ago, and just like then, you kick and flail and fight against him. “Let me go, Gabriel! God damn it, let me go right now!”

“We need him! They know we’re here and we need him as a hostage!”

“I don't care!” The scream that breaks free from you is guttural and heartbreaking, the sound of your loss laced throughout it. “They killed Bellamy, and I’m going to burn Bardo to the ground, starting with him!”

You fight against Gabriel harder, but years of sparring has made him aware of your moves. He keeps his head away from you, out of reach from your headbutts, and he keeps your arms pinned securely at your sides. Your kicks have little impact because of the way he’s holding you, so fighting him is useless, though you do it anyways. And as Hope holds up Octavia and Gabriel holds you back, there is no one to keep an eye on Echo. She takes one look at you, and your desperation to destroy Bardo and avenge Bellamy, and she makes a silent vow to help you achieve that goal, no matter what.

She crosses the room towards the man, hitting him a few more times as Gabriel calls her name. Something in the tone of his voice stills you, and you watch as Echo reaches up and grabs the large needle of the machine. Gabriel drops you unceremoniously onto your butt in a frantic attempt to reach Echo and stop her, but he’s too late. By the time he reaches her, she has already let out a bloodthirsty scream and stabbed the needle through the man, quickly killing him and damaging the M-Cap machine in the process. 

Everyone looks on in shock and horror, except for you, your expression grateful as Echo finishes what you tried to start. She turns to look at you, tears in her eyes, and you nod your thanks before the reality sets in again. Bellamy is dead, your fiancee is gone, the love of your life has disappeared. Obliterated by Bardo tech, taken from you. Because you were too slow, too stupid, and you didn’t make it in time. You didn't save him, couldn't save him, and now he’s gone. 

A sob tears its way from your throat as your mind struggles to process your loss. You fall forward, onto your hands and knees, your vision blurring due to the tears in your eyes. You sit there sobbing, surrounded by the others, who all watch on in their own stages of shock and grief, but you are unaware of their presence. You cry hard as you think of Bellamy, your stormy love, the man of your dreams, now dead. Everything you went through, all the battles and war and forgiveness, all the times you managed to save him in the past, every single bit of it for nothing. 

It’s almost too much for you to handle, and you swear you feel your heart shatter into pieces as you cry, the little la lune now left without her world bearing Atlas.

-

next chapter

[simping-for-fives]

Coru-snow

Get it? Like Coruscant, but with snow at the end instead. Forgive me for the title. 

This is for @threetinyshinies​ as part of the @starwarssecretsanta​ event. I really hope you like it!! I debated for a long time whether to have a The Mandalorian era fic or a TCW era fic, but I noticed you’ve been posting a lot of Coruscant Guard art!! So I went with that. Happy Holidays!! xox

Thank you @lilhawkeye3​ for organising all this. I had so much fun.

Summary: Commander Fox and Lieutenant Thire experience Coruscant’s South Pole for the first time. Will Fox allow himself some holiday fun? Let’s see. 

Warnings: I couldn’t find any descriptions or images of the South Pole, other than it is popular with tourists and that there are tauntauns there. So I kinda just did my own thing with it. 

1.3k words

[Image]

 “Wow!” Thire exclaimed via his private helmet comlink to Fox. “It’s hard to believe we’re still on Coruscant.”

Fox scanned the snowy surroundings, taking in the white landscape. The frosty air had no effect on him thanks to his vacuum sealed undersuit and the cold assault armour he had been given for this mission. Fox is still getting used to the heavier armour, but he is grateful for the extra protection from the elements.

It’s like nothing he has ever seen before. At least not in person. He knew Coruscant had a South Pole covered in ice caps, one of the few areas of the planet where natural beauty prevailed, but he never thought he would actually see it one day. Fox could not deny the fact that the landscape was breath-taking however, he wished it were not so packed with tourists. There were tourists wrapped in thick clothing as far as the eye could see and multiple cabin style buildings, of varying sizes, dotted the landscape.

“I don’t get why we had to be the ones to guard Senator Chuchi on her trip here. They should’ve sent someone else. I’d be a lot more useful back in the city.” Fox replied, omitting the fact he was secretly glad for the change of scenery.

“They must’ve thought you needed a holiday the most.” Thire teased, causing Fox to roll his eyes to the high heavens under his helmet.

“Gentlemen, what do you think of this place?” Riyo beamed. “Reminds me of Orto Plutonia. Only with more people.”

Fox and Thire immediately switched out of their private comlink.

“It’s beautiful, Senator. Though I must say, I normally prefer tropical destinations.” Thire joked, gaining a laugh from Riyo.

“It’s...different.” said Fox, his reply as cool as the surroundings.

“I’m sure it is for you, Commander. But I do hope you and Lieutenant Thire are able to have some fun while you’re here. I promise I won’t tell.” she chuckled and Thire joined. Fox, however, chose to pretend he had not heard the last part.

“Let’s go inside, senator. You have a meeting to prepare for.” Fox finally said.

~~~~~~~

Senator Chuchi’s meeting with the Pantoran officials appeared to be going well based on the laughter emanating from the room. Fox and Thire stood guard in the corridor, alongside a few Pantoran guards.

A few minutes later, Riyo and the Pantorans walked out. Each taking it in turns to bid each other a good night. When it was just the three of them left in the corridor, Riyo turned to speak to the brothers.

“You’re allowed the rest of the night off.” Riyo smiled. “Before you say no, I just want to remind you that I won’t be without protection. I have Pantoran guards here. I would like you gentlemen to explore this place before you must return to the confines of the senate building. Maybe even ride a tauntaun?”

Fox immediately responded before Thire could accept. “With all due respect Senator, I don’t think it would be wise to leave you with guards we haven’t personally vetted.”

“Commander, I assure you, these guards have gone through the most scrutinous of vetting processes. I will be safe. I insist you take this time off. I will not be giving you any duties for the rest of the night whether you accept or not.”

“Thank you, Senator, we’ll-”

“-Have an early night. We’ll be in our room should you need us.” Fox interrupted Thire before stalking off.

“Don’t worry Senator. I’ll somehow persuade him to allow himself to have some fun.” Thire promised, excitement oozing from his words.

~~~~~~~

“C’mon Fox, make the most out of it. You might never get this opportunity again.”

“I said no, Thire.”

“Why though? You have no reason to say no.”

“Yeah, I do. What if something happens while we’re not here? We’ll be the ones in trouble. Not her.”

Thire stared at Fox, unable to think of a reply fast enough. Fox had a point.

“Look-” Fox said gently. “-if you want to go, then you can. But one of us has to be here.”

“Nah it’s okay. Wouldn’t be fun without you, vod. Maybe we can play a few card games instead?”

Thire attempted to mask his disappointment, but nothing escaped Fox regarding his brother’s mood. He found himself feeling guilty despite his belief that his decision was the right one. Maybe it wasn’t. It wasn’t often opportunities liked this arisen for a clone and yet he was so ready to disregard it. Fox knew he was in for another night of tossing and turning.

~~~~~~~

Deep snores permeated from Thire, though that was not the reason Fox found it difficult to sleep. It was Thire’s crushing disappointment that resonated in his ears. He does not want his brothers to have to miss out because of him.

Fox looked at the chrono and groaned. It was late. Or early depending on how you looked at it. And he had not gotten even a minute of sleep. There was only one way that was going to change.

He made his way to Thire’s bed and shook him awake. Not that much effort was needed. Thire awoke alert and concerned.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is Senator Chuchi safe?”

“Everything’s fine.” Fox reassured him. “I need you to put your armour on. We’re going outside.”

“What? Why?”

“To have fun.”

Thire’s mouth broke into a large grin and a high-pitched squeal escaped his lips. Fox could not hold back a laugh at that, and he sincerely hoped the people in the neighbouring room were not awoken by it.

~~~~~~~

Freshly fallen snow crunched under his boots. It was a strange feeling walking on ground he sunk into. What was previously populated with tourists during the day, was now empty. The surroundings silent for the most part. It would have been eerie if it were not for the warm toned lamps and multicoloured lights that dotted the area. Fox knew all the stalls would have closed for the night, but he did not think it would have been this empty.

“This is great.” Thire grinned. Neither of them had their helmets on now, opting for woolly hats instead as per Thire’s wish. The night air was brutally cold, and Fox felt it bite his face, but he was determined to keep his helmet off for the time being.

“Great? It’s dead.”

“Yeah, which is perfect for us.” Thire said cheerfully. “We get to play in the snow! Just like in the holomovies.”

He bent to the ground and collected a small mound of snow that he rolled into a ball. Without warning he aimed it at Fox’s face, and it hit true to target, causing Fox to sputter. Ah, that’s why he didn’t want me to wear my helmet Fox thought to himself.

“SNOWBALL FIGHT!” Thire screamed.

“You’re gonna regret that Thire!” Fox bellowed, his laughter betraying the fact he was not mad.

Fox and Thire began collecting and shaping snow. Both trying to aim for the other’s face. Fox’s mind drifted to battle strategies that might help him, but it was hard to focus when snowballs repeatedly hit his face. Thire was winning. Maybe he was winning because his mind was not occupied with strategy. Rather, he was focused on the moment and living in it. Fox decided to let go and allow himself some happiness. Like Thire said, he might never get this opportunity again.

~~~~~~~

“Okay, okay.” Thire breathed heavily. “I think it’s a draw.”

“You wish!” Fox laughed.

“There are no winners or losers in snowball fights, ner vod.”

“You weren’t saying that when you were winning.”

Thire and Fox’s eyes met and neither of them spoke for a few moments. Until they both burst out into uncontrollable laughter. Surely someone must have heard them by now, but neither cared if they had. This was their time to play catchup on the things civvies took for granted.

“Hey, Thire.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna build a snowman?”

[davidbrigstock]

May 24

Tour Day 18. My Day 10.

Tucumcari NM to Dalhart TX

Approx 95 miles

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Brutal. Exhausting. Knackering. That just about summarizes this highly forgettable day. We knew that this would be a very difficult day when it’s at home. We were going to be heading NE in more or less a straight line, putting us in direct confrontation with a northerly wind, sustained at 20 mph. That means the wind would hit us more or less head on, blasting on our left shoulder. Was is bad? Yes. Very. It’s hard to put it in words. Worse, it was uphill. Never ending hills several miles long which, once supposedly crested, revealed yet more climbing as far as the eye could see. The hill profile makes it look like there were several ‘helpful’ downhill runs. Never even noticed them. It was a slog. And cold - 50F or thereabouts but the windchill made it feel much less. We could not hang around at SAGs because the wind would just chill us down in a few short minutes. This was, by far, the most physically and mentally challenging ride I have ever done. Work colleagues and family members used to hear me moaning about the headwind during my rides around Ohio. Well that was nothing compared to this but maybe it conditioned me somewhat. I’m not too sure about that - at some points I was going at 6mph which requires a Herculean effort to keep pedaling. So my stats don’t look great (8 hours to do 95 miles) but heck I finished and those stats were very typical for everyone. Most of us did not cycle in our typical groups as it was an individual effort where we each went at our pace. Most of the time I was alone but usually had a rider or two in sight ahead and behind me. Highlights of the day were crossing the state line from New Mexico into Texas, Paula telling me that I have a very smooth cycling style (🆒), and not getting blown off my bike. Our time is TX is very limited - tomorow we will be in Oklahoma! The other good news is that it’s only 75 miles tomorow. The bad news is that the riding conditions will be the same as today. Joy.

Not too many pics today but the Relive app is still a great momento. The cattle were perfectly happy until I stopped to video them when they got spooked and took off. Either my red jacket (think matador) or they were just camera shy. The last pic below is a narrated video with some foul language (spoiler alert for parents of small children). The 30c helmet fashion statement during my “chat” was to keep my head dry but in the end it didn’t rain and it got so hot under it that it would have made a great hothouse. I removed it ! That said, those elasticated shower caps are great for covering helmets, electronics, and leather seats during rain. It’s not that ridiculous and its a cheap and effective solution.

Miles today : 94

Feet ascended today : 1508

Overall total

Riding days : 7

Total miles : 573

Total feet of ascent: 15,503

https://www.relive.cc/view/vJOKpQBKn56

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 4, part 2

We found the guy staggering down the creek. We heard him before we saw him—he was wading through knee-deep water, half hunched over and groaning in pain. As he got closer, I was able to make out that he wasn’t human but crocodilian, and dressed for fishing. His pants had torn away below the knees, and I could make out bright green vines with vermillion buds snaking up his legs. He was bleeding where they burrowed into his hide. He looked up at us with glassy eyes and weakly called for help, reaching out with both hands. 

Automatically I moved to support him but Calder held me back. He told me he recognized the vines as marshbloom, a particularly nasty plant native to Blastfire Bog. An opportunistic parasite, it latched onto any skin that came into contact with it and fed on its host, growing until they were entirely overtaken and drained of their minerals. Once the marshbloom had fed all it could, the buds would open and spread their spores to find new hosts. 

This guy already looked to have been wandering for a couple of days; we didn’t have much time—probably only about another 24 hours. I told Calder to watch after him and make sure he didn’t wander off. Since Calder didn’t technically have skin, we agreed he might be able to physically restrain the afflicted man as a last resort. Meanwhile, I raced back to the cottage to scour my predecessor’s notes.

I found that her overall knowledge of the bog and its flora were spotty at best, but she did have an entry on the marshbloom. Her notes said that it should be treated like any other virulent parasite, but with extra focus on healing the skin. With the entry wounds closed, she noted, the portions of the plant inside the host’s body would be unable to photosynthesize and would simply die, and the portions outside would lose the necessary minerals and fall away.

With a little more research, I knew what I had to get. I dumped out the remaining breadcrumbs from my pack, had Ailean hop up on my shoulder, and set out for Hero’s Hollow.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I told the guards at the entrance that I was foraging and expected to be inside for less than an hour. Then I headed in, map in hand, to find some liquid fire.

It’s not quite lava, this substance (lava is molten rock and this is more akin to superheated magic), but it is quite hot. You need special gloves to handle it. It won’t burn you, but it will certainly feel as if it had. It’s great for clearing parasites if you can get it down—like a flash fire fever. I found it fairly easily, flowing right out of the wall (turns out Hero’s Hollow has a lot of natural deposits), and collected it with little issue. It was as I was headed back out, however, that I heard heavy, clanking footsteps sprinting towards me accompanied by a “what ho!”

I turned and looked to find a suit of armor approaching me fast. The visor was flipped up, showing that the helmet was clearly empty. “I, the Baron, challenge you to a duel, brigand!” The voice sounded more like a jester’s than a knight’s—or a baron’s, for that matter. I backed away and tried to tell this Baron that I really didn’t have the time (or the equipment or the skill) for a fight, but as I said so my back bumped up against the wall. The suit of armor ignored what I’d said, unsheathed its sword (the thin kind with a point, rather than the kind with two sharp sides), took on a cartoonish stance, and cried “en garde!”

I stayed very still for a good long while, and so did the armor. Every few seconds it shouted something like “you shan’t best me, scoundrel!” or “your scourge ends here!” Its accent was all rolled ‘r’s and rapidly fluctuating pitch. After about three minutes of this I finally went to try and just walk away, and the suit of armor immediately lunged forward and skewered my thigh.

I cried out, more out of shock than anything. It was a relatively shallow wound (I wrote “skewered” but it was more like “scraped”), but the sudden movement and prick of pain surprised me. The Baron, for its part, seemed delighted. It immediately turned and began to skip away, occasionally clicking its heels in the air and crying “tee-ha! Tee-hee! I, the Baron, have bested thee!” It disappeared around a bend in the corridor, but I could still hear it for a long while after as I bandaged my wound.

What a blighting nuisance. I supposed though, as I limped out of the dungeon, that it could easily have been a lot worse.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I headed back to Glimmerwood Grove next, to look for wild roses. The hip seeds promote skin health, and I thought they theoretically should be fairly abundant. But, as is my luck, they proved to be frustratingly elusive. I was already pretty annoyed when I ran into Kendre.

Kendre was a satyr, and (as they volunteered immediately upon seeing me) a druid who lived in the forest. Their arms were wiry, the rest of their human torso obscured by what appeared to be a grass-stained burlap sack with arm and neck holes cut out. The fur on their goat legs matched their russet hair. They wore complex jewelry, with earrings and necklaces and adornments to their curled horns all connected by small chains to form one large piece.

I asked how long they’d been living in Glimmerwood and they said just about their entire adult life. They mentioned a shack deep in the heart of the grove where they lived and gardened and kept to themselves. They said they didn’t normally forage this close to town but they were looking for something elusive.

I asked them if they had seen wild roses around and they thought for a moment before saying that roses had been an unusually rare sight this year. They apologized, and offered instead the location of a different plant: the coffee cap. Though unrelated to the bean (it’s actually a mushroom), it does contain about the same amount of caffeine and releases it into the body quicker when consumed. When added to a potion, its only real effect is to sharpen the patient’s senses—not useful for the task at hand. Still, I thanked them and followed their directions to find some—it’s always better to have more and more varied reagents on hand, just in case.

Kendre was the second denizen of Glimmerwood Grove I’d met who seemed to have no connection to the human society in Greenmoor or High Rannoc at large. As I plucked a mushroom and put it in my bag, I wondered if there were any more.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I didn’t have to wonder for long. After retrieving the coffee cap I headed back towards the path. I took a right that should have led me straight back onto it, but instead I found myself in a beautiful (if dilapidated) courtyard. I must have been caught in some kind of dimensional fold, as I surely would have noticed the high, ornate walls that now surrounded me had they been present before.

The walls themselves were ornate but clearly weathered, dotted with tall thin windows and covered with hanging moss and climbing vines. The floor was made of smooth bricks that must have once been an intense shade of lapis or ultramarine, but that had faded to a (still gorgeous) azure. They were cut and laid in a pattern that was symmetrical but irregular. It took a good bit of staring for me to realize it depicted the phases of the moon, running from right to left across the space’s center. At the corners of the courtyard were raised plant beds that may have once been carefully maintained, but now grew wild. Each had a great tree at the center. Three of them had a least one side that had cracked or buckled, allowing dirt to spill out and their tree’s great roots to spread less impeded. The fourth one, the one in the far left corner, held a smaller tree, mostly obscured by—to my surprise and delight—wild rose bushes!

I began to hurry towards them before the sound of a clearing throat stopped me. I had completely overlooked what was clearly meant to be the courtyard’s central feature: along the far wall was a great, ornate throne. It gleamed golden in the light, its high back intricately molded with dozens of humanoid figures in myriad combinations and contexts—probably recounting the plot of some long-forgotten myth. Seated on the throne, still regal and imposing despite being dwarfed by it, was a man. As I approached him I realized he was much taller than me, or for that matter any human. His skin was extremely pale, his form rake thin, his hair a nearly-white blond. He was dressed in a garb unfamiliar to me, though the dense ornamental fur of his cloak and the rich purple of his tunic and pants communicated his status anyway. He regarded me cooly with orange eyes as I took in the sight. Finally, I noticed his long, pointed ears and it clicked: this prince was an elf.

Belatedly I dropped to one knee and bowed my head. I hoped that was the correct gesture of respect for elven royalty; it had been many years since I took politesse classes in primary school, and I’d never had much use for what I learned from them before.

He chuckled and told me to rise. His voice, though a fairly high tenor, had a commanding sense of depth. He told me it had been far too long since he’d had a visitor, and I should feel welcome to stay as long as I like. I asked for his name, and he raised an eyebrow before telling me I could not have it, but that I could refer to him as His Majesty, the Crown Prince of Sovereign Go’ed-Wigg. I quickly apologized for my careless wording, and told him he could call me ‘F.’ Given the Crown Prince’s care with his own name I figured care of my own was in order. I decided to let it be ambiguous whether this was an initial, a random pseudonymous letter, or if I had chosen “Eff” as a name.

I asked the Crown Prince (as I decided to think of him because that full title was simply too much) if I might have one of his roses, so that I could heal a patient. He thought for a moment then said I could on two conditions: I had to give him a gift in return, and I had to listen to a story. I told him that my patient’s time was limited, but that so long as the story was of a reasonable length (I believe I specified no more than fifteen minutes), and so long as I myself got to choose my gift to him I would be happy to agree to those terms. His expression was unreadable enough that I couldn’t determine whether I’d wiggled my way out of some trick or not, but he conceded my conditions.

As the gift, I gave him the coffee cap I’d just obtained, and explained its uses. He told me he had heard of coffee caps before, but seemed satisfied with the gift anyway. He said with my limitation we wouldn’t have time for the full story, but he’d tell me the first part anyway. I can’t recount the Crown Prince’s exact wording—he spoke for a long time—but I’ll summarize as best I can.

Once (he told me), there were three queens. A queen of spades, who ruled over those things on the earth, a queen of diamonds, who ruled over those things below it, and a queen of clubs, who ruled over those things above. The queen of spades and diamonds neither one had a king, but each had one knight. The queen of clubs had no knight, though she did have a king—but he was perpetually absent.

The realm of the queen of spades was verdant and teeming with life, both plant and animal. The queen of clubs’ domain was bright and open and free, always fresh and always changing. The queen of diamonds, on the other hand, ruled a territory rich with minerals, precious metals, and gems, which all things that lived would eventually join as they decomposed and returned to their base materials.

The queen of diamonds, though, was uncaring of these gifts. She surveyed her realm and saw rot, slimy worms and scuttling insects, and tons and tons of dirt piled so much upon itself that there was barely room for plants or animals at all. She looked over the queendom of spades and the queendom of clubs, and all the light and life and variety and air they had, and she grew jealous. She resolved to take the other queens’ territories for herself.

The queen of diamonds knew that going to war immediately would be foolish. Her two rivals (the queen of spades especially) had dozens of subjects in fighting shape, and she had next to none. So, she worked on expanding her population. She promoted immigration, emphasizing the riches to be found in her domain. With her (previously unmentioned) magical powers, she engineered those denizens she already had over the course of generations into stronger, smarter, better fighters. She was raising an army.

What the queen of diamonds didn’t know was that her knight and the knight of spades were in love. They kept their affair hidden from their respective queens for obvious reasons, but met in secret regularly. Wishing to limit the chance that they might have to meet in battle personally, the knight of diamonds told the knight of spades what the queen was doing.

The knight of spades took this information to his own queen, who thankfully didn’t probe too deeply into how he’d learned it. Instead, she immediately set about raising an army of her own, and passed the information on to the queen of clubs personally.

The queen of clubs, then, faced a rather pressing issue: like the queen of diamonds, she did not have enough subjects in fighting shape to raise an army. Unlike her counterpart, however, she did not have several generations’ notice with which to rectify that weakness—nor did she even have a knight of her own.

So, after obtaining permission from her new ally, she searched far and wide in the domain of the queen of spades to find a champion, one who could inspire their peers to fight their hardest, with the knowledge to select the generals and lieutenants and foot soldiers who would be able to defend her queendom.

And find one she did. The champion was such an effective leader, so adept at rallying people to follow her with true deep-seated conviction for the cause, that she would come to be known as the queen of hearts.

It was at this point that the Crown Prince stopped and gestured to the rose bush. I realized that I’d become so thoroughly engrossed in his story that I’d lost track of time, and I was thankful I’d thought to set a time limit. He sensed this too, and as I went to pluck a rose hip he asked if I was enjoying the story. I asked him in turn where he’d learned it. He said that he was the only one in the world who knew it. I asked if he meant he’d made it up, and he didn’t respond.

Instead, he said I’d have to come back later to hear more of it. I told him I didn’t even know how I’d gotten here in the first place, much less how I’d return, but he insisted that I’d find my way. As I left the courtyard, he turned his attention back to the mushroom I’d given him, turning it over and over in his hands.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I was just about set to head back to Calder’s stream when I realized something all of a sudden: I couldn’t touch my patient, which meant I wouldn’t be able to force him to swallow the potion—he’d have to do it voluntarily, without spitting it out or spilling any. Liquid fire, one of my major ingredients, was notoriously both very hot and very spicy, making it difficult to stomach. I would need something to cover the taste. I remembered that I had the candy rock back at the cottage, but I was honestly closer to Moonbreaker Mountain. So, I decided to just run over and find some on my own.

I took a path I hadn’t been on before. About halfway up the mountain, I came across Mòrag McKinney, knelt at a shrine. It took her a long time to notice me, but when she did she smiled and bade me sit down next to her. She told me this was a shrine to Cernunnos, the antlered god of nature, hunters, druidry, fertility, and warriors. She said those going on journeys often placed offerings at it hoping for his favor. I asked if she was going on a journey and she said no, she’d just started coming here recently. Something about it called her.

She traced little circles in the dirt with her finger as she told me about Cernunnos, his ability to call animals to him, how wild-growing plants were considered his bounty. I had heard of Cernunnos before, even if I hadn’t studied him closely, but I let her speak. When she was finished, I apologized and told her I was on a deadline. I asked her where I might find the candy rocks. She seemed disappointed to see me go, but directed me a little ways up the path. I hurried off and found a large cluster easily. The rocks (crystals, really) were extremely brittle—I could break off a good-sized chunk with my hand. Once I’d done so, I hurried back to Calder’s river.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

Here is how I made the potion:

First, I crushed the rose hip seeds with my travel mortar and pestle.

Then, I collected some water (Calder was kind enough to let me borrow a bit of his)

Then, I combined it with the seed powder, liquid fire, and candy rock.

Finally, I shook it until it was all combined.

I decided to call the potion Bog’s Bane—a fitting enough name, as it ended up looking like orange mud. My crocodilian patient was staring vaguely off into the distance, so I gave the potion to Calder so he could help get it down. Once he’d finished it, the patient gasped and his eyes unclouded. Already the visible vines crawling up his legs were withering, their yellow buds falling off. I told him he ought to go see Dr. Ardor-Knox in town, and to tell them that he was seriously drained of vitamins and likely anemic. I didn’t know if the doctor had the requisite knowledge of crocodilian physiology to treat him, but I figured sending patients their way might help smooth things over with them. The crocodilian was still a bit out of it but seemed to understand well enough. He paid me for the potion and stumbled off in the direction of Greenmoor.

When he was gone, I turned to Calder to apologize that my work had cut our picnic short. He said to think nothing of it—the man would have stumbled into his creek anyway, so it was good that someone who knew how to treat him was present when he did. Nevertheless, I asked if we could have a do-over soon, and he said he’d like that.

It was far too late by that point for anything further to happen (though if it’s not wishful thinking there was certainly some tension), so I resigned myself to trudging back home. Now that I’ve recounted the day's events, I’m going straight to bed. Here’s hoping that tomorrow isn’t quite so hectic.

⇦●〇●⇨

[heli0s-writes]

III. Paralysis*

Summary: “I’m sorry,” you sob, locked around Bucky’s bicep, his forearm, fingers digging into the smooth obsidian plates, fisting the fabric of his sleeve. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” As if he were Natasha—as if you could stop both her death and his mangling, or at least hold her the way you are holding him now.

A/N: 9.8k words. OOF.

Warnings: Language, robots v. monsters violence, Big Time angst and comfort, smutty bits (dry-humping, thigh riding).

Trinity Epoch Masterpost

He leaves around sunset. Hair combed neatly to the side and freshly shaven, Steve’s dashing in a fitted suit and tie. 

In the middle of passing around a basketball, Erik Killmonger, in all his subtlety, whistles, “Looking fresh, white boy!”

Steve smirks, smoothing the front of his jacket, “This monkey suit? I’d rather be in circuitry.”

He’s been laying low since Siegehook, since Bucky’s arm, and since you. But now the story’s changed and he’s gotta get his narrative straight— he’s introducing a new character, changing the players, and guiding the spotlight exactly where it needs to go.

Jimmy Fallon— Kimmel? One of the Jimmies personally flew into Hong Kong for a special taping of his late-night show. Orion racked up eleven kills; it’s another record and the people want what they want.

Fury called the three you of into his office after the network reached out for the umpteenth time. He strategized shrewdly to have Steve on this particular broadcast because it’s not as serious as a news report and not as wordy as an interview. Too many things can go wrong in both: cross-examinations, misquoting, scrutiny after the fact.

Steve works best in front of a live audience. He’ll sit down tonight—broad and tall—smile at the camera and the host, make a few charming quips, and then he’ll let the world know.

James has been hurt. The next breach will overlap his recovery time—don’t worry, everybody, fortunately, there’s a pilot available to step in and fill his place until he’s fully healed. And yes, he’ll be back soon, both in the Jaeger and on the show— I know you miss him, he’s even more popular than me, huh? Broody and quiet, right, ladies? He’s a hit!

Then he’ll laugh and field some questions about his new partner—but keep it vague for both yours and Bucky’s sake.

It didn’t need to be said. You didn’t want to be named, Steve didn’t want to make any assumptions for the future, and Bucky didn’t want to know if anyone thought he couldn’t pilot anymore.

Erik passes and you catch, sidestepping Thor and shooting over his figure which is no easy feat considering his massive height and the way Steve is staring you down. You don’t have to be hooked up to his brain to know what he’s wondering. 

Since the trial run, you’ve been feeling the after-effects of the drift in oscillating waves. Sometimes you catch yourself standing ramrod straight, physically feeling heavier, knowing it’s him.

You okay? We talked about this. Yes, you are. No, you aren’t. It’s complicated. He’s fixes his tie the same time you spot a wrinkle. After-effects.

Erik jumps for a rebound when you miss the next basket, getting it knocked away by Thor’s enormous hand. Steve’s already gone when you look back, but Erik is passing again, and your next shot sinks through the net.

“That’s fuckin’ right!” He knocks his elbow into yours proudly, pushing sleeves over elbows until you can see the patterns of scarification up his arms. Feet back and forth on the scuffed concrete with distracted rhythm, you dribble, thoughts still on Steve.

“Hey,” a voice calls over the sound of the slamming ball. Barnes toes the edge of the makeshift court. A jacket is tucked under his arm, baseball cap atop his dark head. “Come on, it’s Friday night and you’re thinking too much. I wanna show you a place.”

-

He leads with confidence, directing the taxi in practiced Cantonese picked up over the last two years. Then, once disembarked, he peeks back every few minutes on the street to check if you’re still following. Your gait is awkward—steps firm, but lopsided. All off kilter and wound up like a spring.

It’s okay. In Bucky’s experience, food always helps. He’s taking you to his favorite restaurant—hole-in-the-wall Sichuan. He hollers over his shoulder, "You better be prepared for spice!”

-

Red lacquered doors open with a tinkering sound, a tiny overhead bell signaling new arrivals. A hostess steers through a path of similarly varnished tables and decorated chairs when Bucky asks for a quiet corner. Fish tanks of koi gleam green and blue. Chandelier scatters gold and white diamond shapes on a ceiling painted like a cloudy sky.

Hot tea first, and he sips carefully, gaze moving up to the T.V. behind your back when you’re busy flipping through the menu. A few more minutes pass of your furrowed brow sinking deeper and Bucky’s hand slides quickly across the tablecloth, nudging the booklet from your clutch.

“I got this.” And relief washes over your entire body like rain.

-

The appearance of entrees breaks your trance. Mai Gai, Char Siu Bao, Dan Dan noodles, and eggplant in garlic sauce—you’re trying to tell him it’s too much, wondering when he even ordered, but he ignores you. Not his fault you spaced out, he says, catch, and a napkin flies directly into your chest.

It makes you laugh, and Bucky secretly wants to tell you that it wouldn’t kill you to do it more often. Why the hell not, anyway? He’s tired of being upset about something that was largely inevitable. He knew the risk of death when they signed up to be Rangers so on the bright side, at least it’s his arm and not his head. At least it’s his arm and not his co-pilot’s. You’ve proven to be more than capable and proven to be someone he can trust with Steve’s life.

If Bucky had any doubts about whether or not that damned Rogers determination would see them through—they’ve been dispelled now.

The drift was sound. When Steve stepped out from the loading dock, he was lighter like half his weight had been sloughed off. When you followed, helmet pulled from your face, Bucky could see where it landed. Your hips, your shoulders, your jaw, all defiant—even if temporarily—coming down from the high of the handshake. Squared and strong, you looked at Bucky and certainty gleamed from your eyes.

You are Orion’s new pilot. He’s gotta give it up. It could be worse.

Bucky’s fingers shift as he unsnaps chopsticks and grabs spoons, the plates on his left clicking quietly, flexing his pointer when it sticks. Sometimes the prosthetic is a little glitchy because nothing’s perfect, but Stark and Shuri are constantly making updates. They use technology from the spinal clamp to connect his synapses, running tests on its reaction time, sensitivity, and functionality. He can feel pressure, but not pain, and wouldn’t it be nice if it applied elsewhere, too?

He passes your utensils over, wrapped loosely in a napkin. It could be worse.

“Hey Barnes,” you call earnestly, running your fingers over an embossed floral pattern on the paper, “Thanks.”

He’s not looking at you yet, firmly on a mission for soy sauce and chili oil. He makes a well of it in a ceramic dish and stirs with a chopstick, moving it to the center of the table, finding distraction in small tasks.

“...Barnes?”

“It’s Bucky,” he says finally, flicking his eyes to your hopeful face, “You can call me Bucky, alright? Usually that’s just for Steve, but you’ve been in his head—know me now, I guess. So you might as well. Hold your horses—I’ll serve you.”

Speechless, you put your hands in your lap and observe him scoop food, the syllables of his offered nickname tapping like a metronome over your curious tongue.

Bucky, you consider, watching the way he moves. Bucky, with his long hair pulled back and out of his cap. Bucky, his soft and worn hoodie, boots drumming gently against the table leg, eyes discreetly glazed over because he doesn’t think you notice the change in his mood.

Bucky, who made you laugh in the Jaeger hangar—even if he did threaten your life upon the first meeting. Who could have let you rot from boredom and worry, but instead took you into Hong Kong to his favorite restaurant without being asked to. Who could hate you—truly, truly hate you—for taking half his life from him, but instead is piling a mound of fragrant jasmine rice on your plate.

“What?”

“Bucky. I like it. It sounds nice.”

A clipped noise of displeasure, “Okay. Don’t fuckin’ wear it out.”

“Bucky...?” You murmur, sly. “Bu-cky. Buck-y.” The tips of his ears swell pink as you continue, emphatically pressing your lips together, letting your jaw hang open, pronouncing with precision. A bite of a steamed bun and you lick the edge of your mouth, “Bucky…hm…”

He sputters.

“Would you stop? Jesus, you’re annoying just like him— no fucking wonder— the two of you. Just fuckin’ darling.” His words are all run together with how fast his frustrated tongue moves, a healthy flush over his cheeks, spoon clinking on his plate.

It’s cute. Stoic, serious, James—Bucky Barnes– just a boy who can’t take a bit of flirting without lighting up like a candle. It’s fun. You like him, Bucky Barnes.

An unexpected ache overtakes you and suddenly Bucky looks more familiar than he ever has. Something excruciating about the soft crinkles of his brow, the way his generous lips draw back to reveal a sliver of his teeth.

He’s Bucky wiping the sweat from his collar in a dirty alleyway, jeans torn at the knees, bruises budding along his knuckles as he yanks up a troublesome blonde friend. Bucky, young and determined, helping Steve into bed every time he got sick.

Bucky, hovering pallid and broken in the drift, hurt and afraid but you felt his resolute strength in Steve’s head even as he howled in agony. Far off and shuffling in transparent layers until he was little more than a specter, but he was there.

His eyes lift again, raising to point you toward the T.V.

“There’s our boy.”

Our boy. And it keeps hurting.

You twist your torso as Steve steps out from backstage, waving and smiling, impeccably poised. He shakes Jimmy’s hand— silently mouthing thank you and hey because the cheering and yelling is too loud to hear him anyway. You try to stop thinking about Bucky anywhere but corporeal and whole across the tablecloth.

“Hey, Jimmy, how are ya?”

“Good—good, Steve. It’s so great to have you on the show again! Wow, you look great! Specimen.”

Steve chuckles modestly, tucking his chin to his chest, “Thanks, you do too.”

“Alright, no need to flatter me, we’re already in love with you, okay?”

You grin the same time Steve does, but whereas he continues to joke and enthrall two hundred people, you grow restless. Bucky refills your tea and drops a crumble of yellow rock sugar in.

“Relax,” he mutters, “It’s fine. He’s good at this. Eat your food.”

And you know this; you know him. Steve’s good when the questions get too personal and when there’s gaps in the conversation—when the cheering interrupts him or when his jaw ticks before he morphs it into a smile.

He’s good when he breaks the news to a hushed audience, gone eerily quiet like they’ve stepped on consecrated ground. Steve gives them those big blue eyes and the room immediately bursts into applause. Some people are crying. The host is shocked into wordlessness.

You feel relieved, getting what you pleaded for. No cameras. No questions. No pressure. The truth is aired, and Bucky seems pleased, too. You’re about to turn around, offer your full attention, thankful for his company, but then something else happens.

Jimmy blinks his stupor away from the blow of Steve’s confession. He takes a sip from his mug and after a short exchange of, thank you for your transparency, it must have been hard— wow I didn’t think you’d drop a bomb like that on us tonight! I thought I was the one with the ace up my sleeve— ha!

He points off-stage and says, “After that, I think you deserve a nice surprise, Steve. Ready?”

Tall, gorgeous, lightly curled hair cascading down her back—the surprise is a woman. She steps easily in heels, an off-the-shoulder red dress hugging tight to her body. Stunning. She waves to the audience and they go wild. 

Steve shoots up to meet her for a kiss in front of the host desk, shaking his head in disbelief, tangling his fingers in her silky hair. There’s cheering again and the crying keeps on.

“Oh my god— Jimmy! You sly devil!” He’s overjoyed. “Baby— how’d you—I thought you were working.”

“I can always make an exception for my favorite guy.” She showcases perfectly white teeth and the high apples of her rosy cheeks.

It’s Ophelia Reyez, Steve’s model-turned-actress girlfriend of approximately six months. Her recent appearance on the Victoria Secret fashion show blew up the internet and her last Sports Illustrated swimsuit cover sold out in every gas station you went into.

Their first meeting was at a charity event—raising awareness about pollution in the Pacific, discouraging scavengers from harvesting Kaiju parts after battles. A picture of them standing two feet away made its way through social media the next morning her PR team made contact before noon.

So of course, it was decided; it’s a beneficially mutual relationship, after all. Doesn’t matter if he hates it or not—people don’t want to know that pilots live in a metal box and play basketball on Friday nights. They want to see Rangers in a role— monogamous relationships with beautiful people, white picket fence (or gated community) future in the making, and eventually plump-faced babies in strollers.

Steve’s now back in his seat, shifted so Ophelia is sitting in his lap, turned to the side. His hands are locked around her slender waist—an incredibly believable display of public affection. She kisses his cheek, leans her head on his shoulder, beaming brightly. If you were anybody else, you’d believe it; you have before.

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” you whisper in both awe and annoyance.

“Feeling it, huh?” Bucky speaks plainly around a bite of eggplant when he notices your jaw. That habitual and microscopic signal he’s grown to spot a mile away means Steve’s irritated and pissed off, and now it means that you are, too.

“Yeah,” you admit, shaking your head. You turn back to him, thoroughly bothered, having had enough of the performance.

“Uh-huh. Everyone’s a Fly—even her.”

You sigh at the label. Jaeger Flies, is what he’s saying. Ranger groupies. Derisive titles— and maybe deserved— for men and women who are attracted to pilots solely because they’re pilots. They want the opportunity to be famous or the privilege of being elite.

Even her, Ophelia Reyes. She’ll forever look at Steve Rogers as the Ranger.

Natasha always lamented—usually as she took her earrings off after a date, heels slipping off her pale feet—about another civilian man who worshipped her, and how that would be a dream for most people, to be so adored, so revered, but you always felt her sorrow in the drift mourning a love she couldn’t have.

She wanted the white picket fence. The normal life, normal husband, normal family. Her clean break from the past where monsters could no longer chase her in Decima and nightmares could no longer chase her at night. Behind closed doors, she was all torn open at the seams. And you’d wordlessly tell her shut up because she had a family with you. You loved her too, wasn’t that worth something?

She’d spiral and spiral and nothing was ever enough.

Your stomach twists and it keeps hurting.

-

Bucky pays for dinner. He asks as he pops a mint into his mouth, “Up for dessert?”

“God, Buck.” You groan, and Bucky takes a second to run that through his head again. God, Buck. Another thing like Steve.

“C’mon, I wanna show you another place,” he says thoughtfully, “Hold on to your hat, punk.”

A lighthearted swat to your back and then he’s shoving the ballcap hanging from his chair on your head.

-

The streets are lit with all sorts of colors as you follow him through the market, peering at vendors showcasing an abundance of food and miscellaneous items. You keep telling him you’re too full and can’t eat another fucking bite, but he only commands you to walk it off. The crispiest egg waffles are somewhere down this way, and even though he can’t remember the intersection, it should be close.

Between steps and dodging passerby’s, he relates his own experiences of brief PR relationships. A Russian woman one time, and a Greek woman another time. Cross-cultural because it made the PPDC look good—and it was all about looking good. He loathed it, of course, but he’d bite down a couple of months before their representatives would release those asinine joint statements about “conscious uncoupling” – schedules too busy, still have love for each other in their hearts, though.

“Couldn’t tell you those girls’ middle names. We’d get together just long enough for some media circulation—dates where we’d pretend to be offended when pictures leaked on TMZ.”

“Well,” you muse over a vision of Bucky leaned back on Steve’s mattress, returned late and bored of another paparazzi encounter swarming him in the lobby of some hotel. You know it like a dream—his ankles crossed, shoes shucked off, cracking his neck. Fuckin’ wild, Stevie. This girl. My knees ain’t what they used to be.

“Least you got your dick plenty wet, didn’t ya?”

He makes a noise like an engine backfiring—offended like you’ve pawned off his prized possessions or something.  

“Jesus—you’re an ass.” He slams the bill of the cap down until it hits you in the nose. Another huff, more cursing, and then he’s saying fuck you before speeding off alone. 

You chase cheerily, finding his chestnut head peeking over the crowd with ease because he’s tall and hard to lose in Hong Kong. A few more blocks down with him looking back surreptitiously to make sure you’re not lost, and Bucky ends up being the one who is actually lost.

“Shit. Can’t find the stand,” he grumbles, “Don’t give me that face. These are way better than the ones we passed earlier—fucking all soft in the middle—fresh pandan leaf, alright? You don’t get it.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” you laugh, feeling your cheeks grow tired from the way they’ve been lifted all night.

A stifled, hot breeze of urban downtown mixes with a chilly gust of wind, carrying Bucky’s petulance away though the throng. Blinking, you look around, craning your neck and shuffle to the curb. Stalls with hanging lanterns. Carts lined with pickled mango. Vendors grilling skewers of pork and cleaving roast duck into chunks.

You suddenly dart from him across the busy road and barely avoid a rickshaw balancing two enormous baskets of finger bananas. When you return, you hold up matching green popsicles. One gets shoved into his mouth, other one into yours. Pandan, like he wanted.

“Hey, it’s not bad,” you give it another taste. Lingering coconut, a little bit leafy, but not unpleasant. “Oh shit—cold!”

Bucky licks his lips, stinging red from the ice. You shudder loudly as brainfreeze hits, another chatter of your teeth following when a gust of wind whips through. He shrugs his jacket from his shoulders.

-

He calls you a dumbass after an embarrassing story about the time you skinny-dipped in a pond near The Icebox in the middle of winter. A handsome man, your eager libido, and a handle of whiskey had been involved. You giggle about being bed-ridden for half a week afterwards, but you got his number and a few good nights in his bed.

“Guess you’re not as boring as I thought.”

You whistle, “Sweetheart, I got stories that’ll put some hair on your chest.”

Bucky smacks you on the shoulder. “Ass.”

-

The Shatterdome comes into view much later.

What would have normally been a three-hour excursion, at most, has unintentionally into six and you’re nowhere close to tired—not quite ready for it to end. Bucky is bright with energy, too.

The past hours have been dedicated to recalling old tales. One led to another, threads pulled from the most insignificant of mentions—your old Boston Terrier’s underbite; Bucky accidentally knocking Steve’s bottom lip into his own braces in sixth grade and it swelled up so big he could hardly talk; Natasha, unable to pronounce fucking aluminum out of all the damn words in the world; you, unable to pronounce facetious; and then Bucky, trying his own hand at it and realizing he can’t either.

“Fa—fa-shish-shush? Fascist—tus? Factitious… Ah, shit.”

“Buck,” you gasp through another fit, “Bucky—you have to shut up. Oh—Oh my god—my face hurts.”

“Christ, who fucking made this word up?” He turns the corner toward the living quarters, shaking his head. Just you and him between the rooms and his steps slow at the advent of an inbound goodnight.

Bravely, now that you’re in more secluded space, you offer, “I can tell you more... if you want. Anything. It’s only fair.”

“Yeah,” he says, going quiet and careful. “If you want to.”

So, you take a deep breath, bookended by a nervous grin because other than Steve, the only person who knows anything about you outside a confidential manila folder is dead.

“Well, it might surprise you, since I’m just so goddamn talented—"

“Oh, here we fuckin’ go.”

“Kidding. I wasn’t good at anything,” you elbow him before fishing out your key. “Other than getting into trouble.” Clicks of the cylinder and your vault door squeaks open. “Lots of fighting—I was a small kid. Had nothing but the clothes on my back and just the biggest chip on my shoulder.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

Yeah. It’s funny. Steve’s alleyway fisticuffs might as well have been your own. You tell him as soon as the PPDC started recruiting again, you were in line. Their standards were confusingly specific and the tests they ran didn’t make any sense, but you passed and landed in Kodiak Island under the austere care of Stacker Pentecost. 

Flipping the light on, you invite him inside. “I’d been in and out of foster homes. Barely had a high school degree. Got into… bad work. You know— what do homeless young adults with questionable moral codes do when their 9-5 isn’t paying the bills?” It’s desperate joke to break up the tension but he doesn’t take the bait.

“I’m not judging.”

You plop down on the edge of your table— a spotty metal thing pilfered from a vacated room. He takes the single seat in front of you, moving a dusty glass of water toward the wall, expression only showing attentiveness.

“Well, anyway…” you pause, “I was in the Bay Area after Trespasser— you know, scavenging. But, well, it changes your perspective a little when you’re sneaking through government tape at 3 in morning, stepping over flowers and memorabilia for all the deaths to crouch over a monster’s fucking toenail.” 

“Hell,” a sardonic and self-deprecating grin, “I might have been a degenerate street urchin, but someone’s family got taken from them and here I was—monetizing their tragedy.”

Arching your back for more comfort, you splay your left leg over the surface, “Pentecost always said if I was lucky enough, I’d suffer brain damage or radiation poisoning, but might as well die in a Jaeger than in a ditch like I figured I always would. Son of a bitch had my number.”

Bucky’s lips are pursed lightly, eyes are tracing the path of your laces through bent hooks when you wriggle your boot back and forth. He spreads his hand over your ankle, keeping you still.

You swallow when he squeezes.

“Uh— I met Nat at Kodiak.” Bucky is warm. You oscillate between ignoring him and focusing on him, clinging to his hold instead of chasing the thought of Natasha too much. “We were… very similar. Childhood, um, troubles and all that.” You give him a pointed look and he makes a small noise of understanding with no intention to press for details, “She became my best friend. She was the first person I had. My only family.”

A nod of mock irritation and he says, “Yeah. Steve was always a part of mine. Sometimes they say they like him more than me. Can’t blame ‘em.”

“It’s the charm. They make it seem effortless, huh?”

“Fucker can’t take a bad picture to save his life.”

You laugh. “A smile like the goddamn sun!”

“One look into those stupid blue eyes and you’re a goner.”

“Criminally pretty.”

“Hah!” Bucky snorts, “Pretty enough for all of us.”

The floodlight on the wall casts darkness in the shape of your head over his shoulder. Lines of wayward hair caress his neck, tapered strands resting on his collarbones, chestnut glowing orange. His irises stipple forest green when it touches the light, smile nostalgic and lovely.  

“Don’t be stupid,” you look at him for another minute longer, “You’re pretty, too, Buck.”

A raise of his brow. Bucky’s mouth opens and closes a few times vacantly. “Thanks,” he mutters finally. Then, bashfully, “So are you.” 

Then, a cautious murmur of your name that you almost miss, and he’s peering up at you, deliberately soft. Bucky’s thumb knead small circles over the stitching of your jeans.

“You loved her, didn’t you?”

You loved her, didn’t you?

The years sweep through, passing over your face in a range of rapid-fire emotions. Bucky watches them change like shadows of a bonfire. Delight, amusement, longing. Anger, despair, grief. Deep and unforgiving because she was your whole world—all you had— and she left too soon.

You inhale and it sounds like a sniffle— exhale, and it sounds like a sob. No going back now; you did promise him anything.

You loved her, didn’t you?

Of course you loved her. Natasha-fucking-goddamn-Romanoff. Yeah, of course you did.

You loved her like a sister. You loved her like a lover. You loved her in reflexive ways, like mother’s intuition, finding your motivation in the need to protect her even though she hardly ever needed protection. You loved her like precious gems. You loved her like she was made from your own rib. You loved her enough to love unreciprocated.

“Well, you spend years living with someone, in their brain, learning everything about them— every decision in and out of their control that led them up to who they ended up being. Their—all their impulses and all the things they think about themselves. How—how they hate themselves sometimes.”

You’d always said you were the stupid one. Too stupid to reflect on the past and too stupid to let it burden your conscience the way she’d let hers. A running gag whenever her hand jammed putting on a lipstick she’d worn a million times and you’d finally have to do it for her.

Cheer up, Nat. You’re too pretty to cry. You’d line her lips, pat in rouge delicately, encouragingly. And then you’d shut up because there was nothing you could tell her. A million reassurances rolled off her back because they only made her feel worse. She clung onto your care like another weapon in her chest because she couldn’t return it even though you told her you wanted nothing from her but happiness. Jesus Christ, Nat, I thought I was the stupid one.

“When you know someone like that, it’s easy, isn’t it? You see them exactly for who they are and suddenly there’s no longer the concept of good or bad. What else could I do but love her? Especially when she thought so little of her damn self—tried everything to be someone else but—Jesus, if you only knew how radiant she was—”

You shut your eyes. “A smile… like the goddamn sun. Ah, fuck—"

And now you’re crying. You haven’t cried about Natasha in almost half a year because it’s something you track like the entrance bay’s war clock. Five months. Ten days. Zero again.

You’re choking back too many words and you don’t even know why you said all of that. You start apologizing, rattling out more, too much again, desperately like a prayer, pitch escalating higher and higher. “She deserved everything. A life that was completely—solely—hers. A life that made her happy— and why— why her?”

Why not me? 

Bucky hears it in the silence. Watches it descend like a funeral shroud, weighing you down until you look as heavy as Steve on his worst days—when he stares at Bucky’s arm, like Bucky can’t see, can’t feel him there. And he knows Steve is thinking, why not me?

Bucky rises to his feet, stepping next to your uselessly dangling leg, resting his left hand on your shoulder and you grasp him, clutching achingly tight, torn to bits. And it’s too much all at once.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, locked around his bicep, then his forearm, fingers digging into the smooth obsidian plates, fisting the fabric of his sleeve. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” As if he were Natasha—as if you could stop both her death and his mangling, or at least hold her the way you are holding him now.

You’re smashed into little pieces, barely keeping your head above water, holding it all in, and no one recognized how you were drowning the entire time.

Solemnly, curiously, he feels like he’s seeing you for the first time but not quite, remnants of familiarity sparks in him—the filmy plastic layer of an old photograph pressing down to reveal something he once knew and finally knows again.

You make helpless noises, staring numbly ahead, tears rolling out like marbles to drop into your lap.

Bucky shakes his head, “I’m fine,” he whispers gently—frustrated—brow furrowed, his fingers rubbing the salt from your chin, “Quit your blubberin’.” He tilts your face up to the light, watching you take a shuddering breath, exhausted from unearthing buried skeletons.

It's wet when he kisses you, supple flesh chapped around the edges from anxious gnawing, swollen hot from weeping. It’s soft and quick, and then he pulls away.

“St—sorry,” he says, mouth pressing into a thin line, lips drawn in and tentatively licked. “Sorry, I don’t know… I don’t know why I did that. I shouldn’t have.”

Your eyes are sad—big and vulnerable, inflamed red, confused, worried, something else weaving through the damp gaze. Your strong, small fingers are still tight on him, and even though Bucky pulled away and apologized, he rushes forward again.

His free hand curls around your neck, supporting your head. Lips part and close, pressing firmly, expertly, naturally. It feels like he’s kissed you before and missed it— like a kiss he’s been waiting on for a long time.

Banging on your door jerks him away. You careen off the tabletop, smooth the back of your hair, wipe your face and the vault creaks open.

“Marshal,” Bucky greets.

“Rangers…” Fury’s steps are suspicious, phone in his hand aglow. “I thought we had a plan.”

Your heart is beating too fast, the press of Bucky’s plush lips still warm, the scent of his skin still near. You sense it like an imprint, feel it like a brand. The room spins with an onslaught of possible scenarios—all horrendously unclear.

“Care to explain this to me?” The marshal turns his phone toward you, the lit screen displaying a photo of a dark street, illuminated by red and yellow lanterns. A thick crowd is spread around stalls of fruit and knick-knacks.

The headline reads James Barnes Spotted in Hong Kong with Mystery Woman, and the two of you are circled inside a red ring. You’re teetering off the curb of the sidewalk next to a sewer grate. It’s grainy and distorted, but Bucky’s striking features are clear.

“And this one?”

Bucky’s cap on your head, popsicle sticks between your teeth and his.

Steve Rogers on Jimmy! Jimmy Barnes on a Date!

James Barnes Officially Over Penelope Mercouri.

James Barnes’ Injury?

Fury tucks his device back into his coat. “Not that I care what you get up to on your spare time, but we had a tale to tell. It’s hard pushing an agenda when you’re pushing the wrong way.”

“We just got dinner,” you stutter, an upsurge of guilt rising. The speculation, the kiss, the gut-wrenching reflex that feels like a crime. Fury’s calculating now, looking from you to Bucky, assessing the situation with some pity because you truly look pitiful.

“What you got is PR on cleanup. Potts has been trawling Twitter for the last 20 minutes. For someone who doesn’t want to be in the public eye, you’re making a lot of noise.” He points to Bucky’s jacket still over your shoulders.

You tear it off. “It’s not—”

“Oh no—I won’t be losing sleep any over it.” The marshal’s single eye blinks calmly, “She can spin the story, but you become responsible for this.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, Ranger, that the spotlight is on you now. And there is nowhere to run.”

And if you didn’t think it could get any worse, footfalls down the hallway reach your ears in a pattern that you recognize immediately. Here he is, stepping into your room like it’s his own, suit jacket over his forearm, shirt halfway untucked and tie pulled loose. His lips drawn together and unreadable.

But you read it: Steve’s seen the pictures, too.

And goddamn, if you didn’t think it could get any worse— the earsplitting alarm announcing sudden movement in the breach startles you all.

“Orion Bravo, report to Bay 08, Level B. Codename Polidori. Category 2 Kaiju.” Shuri’s reedy voice is collected but critical. The thin screen next to your bed blinks on primary colors, wavy lines of activity rising and falling, counting down until emergence. Three hours.

Banner streams down the hall. The ruckus drowns him out.

Fury’s dark skin is ochre beneath the lights, “Category II,” he says, “Should be achievable. Odinsons will be on standby, guarding the Miracle Mile. Maximoffs on the coastline. They’ll come to you if necessary. Shelve your personal troubles, Rangers, we’ll continue this conversation later.”

-

Circuitry. Battle armor. Helmet beneath your arm. Muscle memory cuts down the time to seven minutes until you’re set to board, but you need more. Just a few—you have to tell him—better now than later—better from your mouth than from the drift. So, you blurt, “Bucky kissed me.”

Steve turns.

“We kissed. It—it’s nothing. I just needed to tell you before we get in. Didn’t want to seem like I’m hiding anything—I’m not.” It sounds so stupid, like a child admitting fault for breaking a window with a too-hard throw. It sounds like betrayal.

His helmet is gripped tightly in the crook of his elbow. Steve’s chin juts out incrementally, chewing on the inside of his lip, the air around him gone stagnant until he makes a noise both like a scoff and a hum.

“Sure. Fine. I get it—you’re lonely.” It’s worse than any response you expected to receive. “You know what I mean.”

It must be a testament to the depth of your connection now— you knowing him, him knowing you in all the ways that can make an argument escalate into atomic warfare. Precision strikes and then the two of you walking Ground Zero in its aftermath. 

“Wait—you think I’m lonely?” You block his way out, furious. “What the fuck does that— have you met yourself? Girlfriends who will never see you for who you are. Ophelia Reyez? Katherine Lau?”

Orion Bravo. Report to the loading platform.

“I know exactly what I’m doing—do you? I spent all evening on T.V. for you--”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo, Mister Martyr in front of a drooling audience telling white lies and screwing a Victoria’s Secret Angel in some penthouse suite— such sacrifices you’ve made in my honor.”

Orion Bravo. Report to the loading platform.

“What the fuck have you done lately?” Steve snaps, “Other than try to fuck my co-pilot?”

His words hit like a kick in the goddamn teeth. You slam your helmet into his chest and the polycarbonate shells knock together violently.

“I’m your fucking co-pilot,” you snarl, “You wanted me.”

Steve steadies himself, twisting until he’s snarling at you down the bridge of his nose, “Enough. We’re being hailed, I’m not breaking this record because of you, and not for a Category II. Get your shit together.”

You grind your molars when he pushes you aside, stumbling on shaking legs. Your brain feels gnarled—misshapen and bent up in sharp, jagged points—and as much as you want to stomp his goddamn face in, he’s right: you can’t feel this way. You can’t. It’s your first drop in two years with the best pilot by your side—and you’re responsible for his life. The last one proved disastrous, and you cannot risk that again.

Your suit feels heavier with each step. When you climb in after Steve, the rig feels more obstinate. Your head, chest, heart are all swollen with turmoil and hot rage.

He’s next to you, breathing deeply. You mimic, shelving personal troubles like the marshal commanded.

Out of alignment, the automated voice of the system calls, and you push it back further, grabbing the entire shelf and hurling it into the depths. Steve sends you an incisive look. A blame. You take a breath, another, and another. Fuck!

“Orion.” The heads-up display spotlights Bucky’s face in the control room, emotionless. “Focus.”

You inhale one more time, seeking reassurance in his unwavering gaze—necessary peace in the silhouette of his phantom left arm. Bucky. Steve. Natasha. You. There can be no more loss. You cannot let it happen again.

Levels stabilizing.

To your right, Steve makes a noise like he’s shaking something off.

Neural Handshake complete.

Bucky stands behind the glass, watching aircrafts lower their hooks. A nod of his dark head is the last thing you see before Orion is lifted from the hangar.

-

There would be a fucking storm.

You’ve always hated fighting in the rain because Kaiju are enormous, slippery, alien amphibians, and Orion’s left fist slides off more times than you’d like. This one’s much smaller than Orion, which allows it the slight advantage of speed, slicing through the water like a shark, corkscrewing for an extra boost of velocity before emerging with a splash from behind.

A miss when you and Steve weave away, hazarding a minor scratch to the right shoulder before Orion’s shield knocks it back.

Despite the vexing evening and the simmering hurt in the pit of your chest, the drift is steady. So, you take it for what it is, cast the rust off your bones, and the two of you do some fucking damage on this thing.

Banner named it Polidori, after the writer credited with inventing the vampire genre. K-Science sonars detected protruding fangs and petal flaps folded on its back like vestigial wings. So, Polidori, he shrugged, it’s cute.

You discover with swift horror that the flaps are neither vestigial nor cute when Polidori pulls one sliver of leathery skin free with a splat. An atrocious shriek rings over the storm as it struggles with its own body, then another shriek and the left pillar continues to stretch, knobby blunt end of its shoulder blade shooting high, ripping itself full of gaping holes in its endeavor. 

Banner was more accurate than he realized.

“Orion!” Shuri’s voice is sharp, “Bring it down! Do not let it into the air! Use your cannon!”

You’re frozen stuck, eyes squeezed shut at the sight of stretched membrane. A terrified whimper and a puncture of nauseating memory nicks at Steve’s concentration.

No! Levels spike on the HUD screen. Fuck! Steve is caught in the undertow and the rig jams beneath both your feet.

“Orion! You’re out of alignment! Orion!”

She’s here.

Natasha’s bright hair is unfurling all around you. There’s deafening splintering when the incisors of her killer punctures through Decima’s chest and both her legs. Metal grinds against metal, the sound searing itself into your eardrums—your brain—your heart. Wings are beating—wild flaps of rubbery sails against the downpour—muffling screams from Decima’s cockpit.

It’s as real and cruel as the last time you saw it.

Bi Fang, like the bird from Chinese mythology, beaked and blessed with flight to make up for its one leg. Bi Fang the Kaiju was legless, and Natasha was convinced Decima could take it. You had no reason to think otherwise; five previous kills cultivated your confidence. You had her by your side, after all. Two orphans with something to prove, proving it again and again.

Wings and fangs? No legs? Six is an auspicious number. The smirk on her lips blooms fiercely. You’re laughing when Decima hovers above the water. Alright, Tasha. Six drops.

A tremendous splash and you touch ground.

She grins. Six kills.

Polidori has one limb fully flexed, fragmenting pixels bending into the shape of Bi Fang. Natasha is bending, too, lowering her center of gravity. Her elbows are against her ribs, fists set. This is gonna hurt. Come to–

Come to me! To me!

He’s stepping in ink. In water. And then metal is beneath Steve’s feet. There are flashes of rain, lightning, and he recognizes her dead center of the storm. 

Natasha Romanoff, vibrant and joyful through the glass of her helmet. You, next to her, reciprocal smile on your face stuck in hysteria, tears streaming down your cheeks in wide stripes. Steve’s hand is reaching but going nowhere. Echoes overlap of crying and shouting. Yours. Hers. His.

Come to me!

He yells again, but you’ve chased the rabbit too far.

Come to me!

He’s trying his hardest, stretching himself like ropes to bridge the fissure. He feels your fear, your hurt, and for a flash, it eats him whole, spits him out a twisted-up way and his brain screams for Bucky.

Bucky is doing the same through the control room, reaching his will out to Steve, praying their connection still holds despite their distance. He’s yelling for you, too.

“Steve! Get the hell out of it! Steve, you need to get her!”

The ripping of his red left arm loops three times in quick succession before Steve can temper it down. Bucky is howling, crying, sobbing. Steve is breathless, stuck, rattled, steeling his entire body to witness the amputation for another inescapable replay until your frozen body smears across his blurry field of vision. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Bright whites burst behind his eyelids. Flares of panicked emotion. Bucky. Natasha. Him. You. An endless rippling chain of trauma lashing Orion open.

“Come on— Steve! It’s moving! Steve!”

“Buck! I’m— I’m okay! Just— need a second.” Steve scrambles for his sanity, latching on, knowing Bucky’s well— alive and not hurt. Shuri begins urging him to get up faster. Polidori’s moving slow, but it is moving, and it needs to be put down now. She’s calling for the Odinsons—Colossus, be prepared to walk-

The metal under Steve’s feet slides away. Water returns, ink flowering behind it—molasses and murky. His steps are unsteady, chest heaving as he advances through a field of speckled glimmers like fireflies at dusk. Each flicker reflects an agonized shard of your distorted face.

A flit of your voice rushes behind his head. Steve whips around and tries to catch it but no such luck.

Again, to the right, then gone each time he spins. It builds and builds until he feels half-deaf, frantically invoking your name into the ether where it becomes lost in dissonance. Butterfly-winged iridescence scatter and plummet, shrieking, shrieking, shrieking. 

Then, nothing.

He finds you crumpled over on Anchorage’s shore.

Decima reaches sand as a crackling mess of Jaeger parts, chest piece ripped clean off the right side. You clamber out of the rig, hugging Natasha’s mutilated corpse. Your drivesuit is split open down to the hip, the glass of your helmet fractured and splattered with blood from your nose– still dripping.

He shakes his head, attempting to free himself of your scarred clutch. You had been hooked into the rawest fear—linked up when she died— gored and broken with half your brain believing it is also dead. Chills race up his spine and breaks him out in a cold sweat. He feels strangled to his very soul.

Then, seizures take you—the casualties of solo piloting—the neural damage come to collect. Nobody know how many miles you steered Decima alone and truthfully, it should have killed you.

Your eyes roll up to the sky, body convulsing before slamming into the ground like a rag doll, shaky fingers still reaching for your co-pilot. Steve shudders quietly, flinching with each impact. A final wail and everything slackens to a dull vibration. You quiver on the sand, howling and crying for Nat.

Polidori’s right wing casts itself loose, jaw opening wide. Steve’s on a time limit; there are only a few grains left in the hourglass. He croaks your name.

A second of recognition triggers from behind the curtain and it’s miraculously enough for you to see him. It’s enough.

He begs. He begs on his goddamn knees, crawling to you.

Look at me, only at me. Come back to me, please. Please. Please.

Steve gathers you in his arms, both of you trembling and afraid. Your suit heals itself, pieces stitching back together, blood little by little disappearing from your nose. Natasha shimmers away. 

He presses the glass of your helmets together. He needs to get closer.

Steve? S-Ste-Steve—Steve?

You’re still crying. You’re breaking his heart.

Yes. I’m here.

St-Steve, what d-d-do I do?

You’ve got me now. I’m here with you. You understand?

He can see you struggling to escape, consciousness clawing with nails and teeth to return to the present.

Yeah. Y-Yes.

We have to move.

Steve—Steve—everything hurts.

Just for now. Just for a little bit—but I’ll make it better, I promise. Nothing’s gonna hurt you again. Will you hold on to me? Do you trust me?

Y-yes… Yes, yes. I trust you.

The rig lurches back to life beneath his feet. Jittery and creaking with strain, Orion rocks forward with a rumble. The drift stirs once more, noise giving way to silence.

Steve’s vision clears. You’re back in the present, precariously grounding your strength inside his guidance. You raise an unsteady left arm. He powers it up. Energy surges through the cockpit, tremors running up your side as it charges. Your hand splays. Steve’s palm takes aim.

Activating plasma cannon.

The beam pierces Polidori’s shoulder and its roar chases a simultaneous thunderclap.

A crack of lightning flushes the sky purple. Orion’s right arm lifts high above its head and slams back down, the glowing hot edge of its shield cleaving through Polidori’s skull.

-

Bucky’s grip on the control room’s railing feels like it could warp metal. Wilson is on his right, other pilots in a row next to him. All is silent.

Through the relay of Orion’s camera, Polidori’s writhes one final time. A death throe—pathetic trilling drowned by rising water, falling into deep darkness. Overhead, Kaiju clean-up advances, jet engines rumbling behind an ashy horizon. Orion’s shield retreats to its side with a wet, sloppy sound. The handshake pulled through. Steve got to you.

Abruptly, the room vibrates with the shouting of about fifty voices. Sam is banging on the railing, strong fists rocking the entire length of it, roaring with glee. The others are even wilder— shoving each other in triumph.

Bucky tunes it out, waiting for quieter confirmation. He can hear the both of you despite the racket. Steve’s steady pants, cut with throaty relief—this one, Bucky’s familiar with. Your small, weak sobs strangled with tears—this one, he’s quickly learned, but knows now in his bones.

���Twelve drops,” you announce hoarsely. Raw. “B-Buck?”

He grins, dazed comfort rushing over, your voice chasing the torture away.

“Twelve kills, sweetheart,” Bucky says, “You did it.”

-

The raucous celebration in the Shatterdome simmers down around four, sunrise just a couple hours behind the horizon. Unruliness had broken out, triggering a party that lasted from the time Orion got picked up ‘til now, and still there’s chatter in the common room. 

It’s normal; Anchorage celebrated too after most kills—as long as no one died.

You’re freshly showered and changed, barefoot as you patter it back to your room. Voices from other beds are lowered as you pass—friends taking banter back to private spaces, couples pressed up against each other. All standard-issue revelry to commemorate the endurance of life.  

It’s how these things go. Violence on a massive scale, humanity threatened with extinction—the people closest to death feel it the most. When routine becomes monotony, it’s good once in a while to be stimulated again.

Damn near two thousand people in close quarters—Rangers in perfect form, friendships assembled on the foundation of sharing an exceptionally singular purpose. Even Pentecost in all his grave formalities couldn’t ward off human nature. Plenty of pilots hooked up with each other and other staff in Anchorage and no one cared as long as it didn’t muck anything up on the job. At least the marshal could control that; mishandle your personal relationships and you’d be off the docket for your next drop.

Sex is biology. Desire is human.

It’s hard for you to feel human this morning. Exhausted by the fight and the prior evening—awake now for over 24 hours, you broke away from the commons as soon as you arrived, spending an hour simply breathing in the steam, the habit achingly comforting. Your chest still feels tight, heart bloated with invasive flashbacks.

You used to decompress with Natasha. A few drinks, tales from the cockpit, shadowboxing and putting on a show, glad to be in the company of friends— to be back safely with each other. Then you’d scatter with the crowd, meet her in the showers, and help her wash her hair in silence. Nothing but the trickle of shampoo down the drain.

She’d cry, sometimes. Catharsis, mostly. Curled up in your arms, the both of you cozy in pajamas on the floor. Then off to bed where she’d climb under your sheets, falling sleep with her head on your shoulder, your fingers in her hair.

A love unspoken. A home in the shape of a twin-sized bottom bunk. Cramped and narrow. Too brief.

You sigh. Everything hurts.

A few rooms away from yours, Steve’s door is open just enough for a line of orange to escape. You know he’s there, waiting patiently as he has been. You went near catatonic on the way back, lying down in the cockpit, no longer needing to be hooked up. You shed the armor, holed yourself into the corner of Orion’s hull, and said nothing when he sat by your side.

Walking in front of the light, he places himself in the entrance way until he’s looking at you. His face is a gentle blue shadow, resplendent halo glorious behind his head. He’s dressed in soft pants and a t-shirt damp at the collar. A droplet of water runs down his neck.

It emerges like an orchestral arrangement. Leisurely notes creep into your ears—a tune you’ve always known. Plucks of strings, escalating windchimes. It echoes, the trails on his skin, his measured breath, his percussive voice layering and pleating until there are dozens of him.

Look at me. Come to me. I need you.

You feel it all at once. A knotted, chaotic tempest. Hesitation. Confusion. Ache. Bucky. Him. You. Your eyes lock with his. A mistake and a revelation.

Steve holds out a steady hand. You take a step, terrified, pulled into his overwhelming atmosphere like magnets, your bodies humming a secret frequency, purring for each other.

The drift opened everything up, but the battle tore it all out. The both of you are laid bare, everything else fallen away.

Nothing’s gonna hurt you again. You’ve got me now, you understand?

You reach the shadow he casts, eclipsed entirely by his bulk. Steve threads his fingers between yours and with a tug, you surrender your worries to him.

He’s kissing you before the door is entirely shut and latched. He fumbles for the locks, wraps his arms around your waist. A click and a clatter. He moans into your mouth. 

You exhale from deep inside your chest. He inhales like it’s all the oxygen he needs.

Your hands move to one place, his hands to another. Before your bodies can savor it, the both of you have roamed on, reading each other’s minds, knowing what’s next.

More. More. More.

It’s impatient and fast and Steve picks you up with ease. You forget yourself, forget the world outside the room, outside the three-by-three tile area of where he’s got you lifted, legs wrapped tight around his hips. Fingers dive into the back of your pants, squeezing, up your shirt, pawing at your breasts.

His groans blow heat onto your neck. You arch away, giving him more skin to brand kisses onto. He nips at your throat, light, then again, rough. His voice is raw and thick, husky little clouds making their home on your body.

Gentle sucking on your bottom lip follow each kiss. He takes you to bed, dropping himself onto the mattress, you on top of him. He’s been in your head; he knows what you like. Knows where you want him. Your voice is getting higher, sounds quick and shallow.

Steve guides you with one hand on your hip and the other beneath your thigh, soft pajama bottoms pressing against his. He groans each time you rock forward, needy for more contact against his groin.

You’ve been in his head, too. He likes feeling hands in his hair, so you grip his flaxen strands. He likes hearing, so you make a little more noise. He likes seeing his partner helpless because of him, losing all control, falling apart for him.

So you do. 

Pleasure rushes from the top of your head to the tip of your toes, his name burning in your throat. It’s an incredible shock and you’re spellbound, enraptured by him drinking in the parting of your swollen lips. Quickly, he places you on his thigh, enormous and strong, needing a better position to see— to feel you on him. Hungry attention, eager eyes, pleading like a mother tongue.

“Keep coming for me. Just like this— don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

The shamelessness of it—your underwear soaked to your pants. The fever of it—his body like a fire, low, husky begging just from watching lighting up your spine. It’s extraordinary adrenaline— the heightened and profound connection of knowing one another in every way—as if you were made for each other.

Animal instinct liberated from human sentience. Desire pursuing release. Two bodies colliding and igniting.

You can’t stop the next cresting wave, crying out again.

Steve pushes you on his leg repeatedly, back and forth, solid and firm between your thighs even as you shudder and whimper, telling him it’s too much— you’re too sensitive. He kisses your neck, jaw, chin, cheek. He doesn’t stop moving.

“Hold on to me.”

A bead of sweat collects on the dip of your cupid’s bow. He looks at how sweetly your skin shimmers as you shiver, how your pupils are blown wide, how you look so perfect to him. He presses his forehead to yours, looks into your eyes like the way he did in the drift.

You reach for him and rub in quick strokes, fumbling when he rocks you back, gripping when he rocks you forward. Parted lips hover, “One more time for me—ah, please,” he begs, “Before I do.”

But he’s too late and too heated. Steve makes a mess of his sleeping pants, taken over the edge by how you feel without hardly feeling you at all. He buries a groan into your shoulder, riding it out with indelicate thrusts into your palm.

“Oh,” he murmurs, “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.”

He’s blush pink and beautiful when he remembers himself again, rubbing his cheek against yours. He knows what you’re thinking— the realization in the comedown, the leaching fear of what could have been a mistake. But it isn’t, and Steve remains faithful to your body.

“Stay. I’m sorry—for hurting you. I’ll make it better.” Velvet kisses to your lips and you shake your head, apologies no longer necessary.

A whisper of his name like it’s the most radiant word. You cling to him, kissing him, answering only to him.

-

In the afternoon when Steve is still sleeping, you retreat to your room. You pause at the sight of Bucky already on your bed, caught in the bleary focus of his gaze. With lashes soaked wet, his throat constricts around a forceful swallow.

“Hey,” he says, voice breaking on the syllable. He pats the space next to him and you come sit, turning your knees until they knock into his.

“Bucky…”

He laughs like you’ve told a joke, like the sound of his own name is a funny thing escaping your mouth. “Hoped I could catch you last night, before—” he laughs again. “—Before bed. Just wanted to—I guess I don’t know what I wanted to do.”

The hurt resurfaces. You find him through the rose-dappled lenses of Steve’s eyes. Those warm summers with two boys running wild, effortlessly devoted to each other. Your heart swells like you’re there, gazing at russet locks flying in the wind. Years and years between them—Bucky’s smile, lopsided and carefree. Steve’s gaze, illuminating Bucky in every memory.

“Bucky,” you say again, so wonderfully soft, he thinks, even as his chest feels stretched to bursting. “You love him.”

He places his temple on your shoulder, face hidden by the long strands of his hair.

“You’ve been in his head. He’s easy to love.”

“Yes,” you agree, touching his bangs, pushing them over his ear, streaking four affectionate lines through, “He is.”

“So are you.”

Bucky turns into your palm, smiling openly, like the truth is the simplest thing in the world.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

(Give Me A) Reason To Live

Chapter 4

by @dracusfyre

Suddenly Tony felt as if he was 18 again, scared and alone, staring at Stane over kitchen table while his parents were laid out at the local morgue. His fingers went numb and he dropped the suit case at his feet, acutely aware of the pistol in Stane’s hand. It was currently resting on the table but definitely pointed right at Tony. “Come on in,” Stane said when it was clear that Tony couldn’t find anything to say. “You know, you’ve got a lot to answer for you fucking brat.” He gestured with the pistol towards the chair across from him. “Sit. You're a hard man to get alone these days, Tony. I’m going to guess that Barnes and Rogers are long gone, am I right? Probably had a real heartfelt reunion after that shit you pulled in New York. Are they planning to come back here or have they run off together?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said as he came closer, his knees going weak and dropping him into the chair. He was pathetically grateful that his voice was even, though his limbs felt like ice. God, he prayed that they would just disappear together, but they’d made a plan and he knew James would stick to the plan, even if he was walking right into a trap.

Stane just laughed. “You’ve turned into quite a liar, Tony. Once upon a time I thought you were too chicken shit to try to lie to me. But it doesn’t matter, they’re not here right now and that’s what matters. You’re all alone, Tony. Just me and you.”

“What do you want?” He wanted to ask how did you find me? but it felt too much like begging, and he refused to do that again.

“You know what I want,” Stane said. He gestured towards the suit still sitting in the open doorway. “I saw all the ones downstairs, too. Impressive. A lot better than what Hydra has, though you made sure of that, didn’t you?”

Here it was again, Stane’s twisted game of cat and mouse conversation, full of traps for the unwary. Fear was still a rock in his stomach, but anger made his hands ball into fists. “Get to the point, Stane,” Tony snarled. Stane was sitting in James’ chair, in their kitchen, their home, and that felt like an unendurable violation.

The affable grin fell from Stane’s face like the mask it was. “The point is, your little jaunt here is over. You’re coming with me, and when Barnes and Rogers show up, Hydra will be waiting for them. You’ve cost me a lot with your little stunts – the faked death, putting Potts in charge, even trying to set your friend Rhodes against us – but you’re going to help me earn it all back now.” Stane took a syringe out of his pocket and pulled the cap off before setting it on the table between them. “Inject yourself with this.”

“The hell I will,” Tony said.

“Inject yourself with this, or I shoot you,” Stane said, waving the pistol a little as if Tony had forgotten about it.

But living with James had done many things, and one of them was to make Tony a lot less afraid of people waving pistols around. Moving slowly, like a man twice his age, Tony picked up the syringe and dropped it on the floor, crushing it with the leg of his chair. “Then fucking shoot me,” he snarled.

“You little pissant-” Stane growled. As Tony had hoped, he lunged over the table to grab him; Stane had always liked using his hands to punish Tony, and this time was no different. Except that this time, Tony wasn’t just scared: he was mad, and he was ready.

Tony shoved himself out of Stane’s reach by putting his feet on the table and kicking it hard; as he’d hoped, it pushed him backwards and also drove the table into Stane’s stomach, knocking him off balance. As Stane grunted with pain, Tony went for the gun, twisting it out of Stane’s meaty hand just as James had taught him. Stane grabbed his arm with his other hand, but Tony swung at his head with the butt of the pistol. Flinching backward, Stane lost his grip and Tony took two big steps back out of his reach, leveling the pistol at him. Stane had been with Hydra for decades but had never bothered learning how to really defend himself, too confident that he was smarter and stronger than everyone else. Tony, on the other hand, had been living with James for almost a year and had used that time wisely.

Stane took one look at him, both hands steady on the pistol, and laughed. “You know this won’t end here,” he sneered. “Cut off one head and-”

Tony cut him off by shooting him in the chest twice, one-two in quick succession; another lesson from James. Stane’s face went slack and he swayed against the table, sliding it across the floor with a screech as he slowly went to his knees, then slumped to the ground. It wasn’t a slow death, but it wasn’t particularly fast, either, and Tony stood over him and watched until the last breath went out of him.

Once he realized that Stane was dead, really dead, the shock hit, and he barely managed to get to a chair before his legs gave out again. He swallowed thickly against nausea as his empty stomach threatened to rebel and concentrating on breathing, in through his nose and out through his mouth, until he felt like he could stand. He made his way around Stane’s body and got a can of soda from the fridge, chugging it for the caffeine and sugar and holding the cold can against the back of his neck until the shakiness subsided. He gave himself ten minutes more to freak the fuck out, then splashed water on his face and got to work.

“JARVIS, did Stane come alone?” Tony asked as he searched Stane’s pocket, finding another needle, his wallet, and his phone. He hadn’t noticed anyone on his way in, but he had also been too exhausted to remember to scan the area before he landed.

“Stane approached alone and on foot,” JARVIS said. “So far I have detected no unusual activity along the perimeter.”

Tony sat back on his heels and thought about that. Had Stane really thought that he could take Tony, James, and Steve back to Hydra by himself? Impossible. Syringes indicated that he had planned to keep Tony sedated for a while, but not for long enough for Steve and James to get here from New York.

A ping from Stane’s phone pulled him from his thoughts. Tony had to use Stane’s thumb to unlock it, but it was a coded message. Tony sat back on his heels as he puzzled it out, then he slumped against the cabinets as he figured it out. ETA 0900Z 2HAT4STR. “Fuck.” He had – he glanced up at the display on the microwave – 6 hours to get ready before Hydra descended on the cabin. That explained a lot; Stane had likely gambled on Tony getting back here first with the suit and planned to take him in alone, then leave Steve and James to Hydra’s ambush.

“Arrogant fuck,” he muttered. He and James had planned for this, over and over and over, so Tony knew exactly what he needed to do next, but first he was going to get this man’s corpse out of his kitchen.

As Bucky pulled into the driveway of the cabin three days almost to the hour of setting eyes on Steve, he could only sit in the car for a long moment and stare at the scene in front of him.

“This is the guy you’ve been telling me about?” Steve said after a long moment, pointing to Tony in his suit, and James could only nod. “Are there normally this many dead people around your house?”

“No, that’s new,” James said as Tony dropped the body he’d been carrying and waved at them. They both climbed out of the car and looked at the massacre around the cabin. “What the hell, Tony?” James said. “What happened?”

“Well, Hydra happened,” Tony said as if it should be obvious. He took off his helmet, hair adorably mussed, and nudged a body with the toe of his boot. “I got back here and Stane was waiting for me, then these guys showed up.”

“Wait, Stane?” Tony nodded. James scanned Tony's face, relieved that he seemed fine. “Then, what...at least two Hydra Strike teams? And you killed them all?” James scanned the cabin and surrounding forest and noticed a thin trail of smoke in the trees. “What’s that?”

Tony followed his gaze and frowned. “Shit, I thought I had put that fire out. That was a helicopter. There’s another one somewhere over there,” he said, gesturing towards the west. “I wanted to have it all cleaned up by the time you guys got here, but I got tired of digging holes.” Just then Tony must have noticed that Steve was staring at him because he held out a hand, still in the suit. “Hi. I’m Tony Stark.”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve said, shaking the gauntleted hand with the barest hesitation. “Bucky has told me a lot about you.”

“Same,” Tony said, flashing a grin. James realized he was staring; something about Tony had changed since they’d last seen each other. He seemed lighter, his smile brighter. James wanted to feel that smile against his mouth and was swaying towards him when Tony turned away. “Come on inside, the inside is clean. Though that took a while, too. ” Tony stepped out of the suit and led the way to the cabin while James gave up counting the bodies after he got to a dozen.

“I like him,” Steve said as they followed him. “I can definitely tell it’s Howard’s kid though.”

Tony told the story as he scraped together some spaghetti and baked some garlic bread from the freezer. The strike teams had assaulted the cabin in the middle of the night and had, fortunately, not been expecting resistance. “We had assumed that they wouldn’t do an air assault because they would get caught on radar, but I guess they had a way around that,” Tony said with a shrug. “But it’s fine. The suits have a sentinel mode where they shoot anything that moves, so they took care of the ground team while I took care of the helicopters.”

“Nice work,” James managed, which was horribly inadequate but he was so turned on right now that he couldn’t think of anything better to say. Seeing in Tony in action had always had that effect on him, and it had only gotten worse with time. Thankfully, Tony didn’t notice, but judging from his smirk, Steve knew James’ predicament and thought it was hilarious. James kicked him under the table.

“Thanks,” Tony said with wry smile, which didn’t do anything to help James’ situation. “But I don’t know if we can stay here, now that Hydra knows where we are.”

“I think we are safe for tonight, at least,” Steve offered. “If they sent two helicopter strike teams and no one came back, they are going to think of a new plan before coming in again.” James nodded helpfully and tried to focus on the spaghetti so he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

Tony was finished eating first, as usual, so he took the first shower while James and Steve polished off the pot of spaghetti.

“Guess I should have known you were sweet on him, since you had so much to say about him,” Steve said with a low voice when they heard the shower start. His mouth was ticked up at the corners in a way that was achingly familiar, and looking at it, James was swamped by how glad he was to have him back. “I haven’t seen you like this with anyone since Dot.”

James shrugged self-consciously, feeling like maybe his face was hot. “Don’t think he’s interested though.”

“What makes you say that?” Steve asked curiously.

James stabbed at his spaghetti. “I’ve been trying to flirt with him for months now, and he hasn’t taken me up on it. I didn’t want to push too hard and make it weird, so I backed off.” Steve made a noise at that, and James narrowed his eyes at him. “What?” Steve just shook his head and shoveled a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth instead of saying anything. “I know that noise. Out with it.”

“Just remembering how much you heckled me about not giving up on Peggy,” Steve said, swallowing as James menaced him with a fork. The mention of Peggy’s name made a shadow flash over Steve’s face and he looked down at his plate. “Don’t waste the time you have if you might be able to get what you want.”

They both went back to their food and then Steve helped James wash and dry the dishes; by the time they were done, Tony was out of the shower, pink-cheeked from the heat. His hair was curling over his forehead and there was still water on his eyelashes, and Steve took one look at James’ face and hastily claimed the shower next.

James poured Tony a cup of coffee – Tony technically liked an espresso after dinner, but James hadn’t mastered the fancy machine in the corner of the kitchen yet – and sat down with him at the table.

Tony took a sip of coffee and looked like he was bracing himself for something. “So I guess this is where talk about we splitting up,” Tony said in a rush, staring down at his mug.

James’ stomach dropped. Whatever he had expected Tony to say, it wasn’t that. “Split up? Why?”

“Well, I mean, you’ve have Steve now, so…” Tony trailed off and James just raised an eyebrow.

“So…” He prompted.

“So you two will want to be together.”

“Since when are two people better than three-oh.“ James barked out a surprised laugh as he realized what Tony was trying to say. “Steve and I aren’t together. I mean, we make a good team, but we’re not…no.”

“Really? I mean, you were telling me all those stories about the stuff you two did together,” Tony started, then trailed off when must have realized he was basically trying to argue with James about whether he and Steve were a couple.

“It wasn’t like that. I’m not interested in him,” James said, looking at Tony meaningfully.

“Okay,” Tony said cautiously. “That’s…good.”

James sighed and went for broke. “Let me say that again. I’m not interested in him.”

“Oh.” Now Tony looked confused, so James waited for that big brain of his to circle around to the obvious. “Wait, you mean me?”

James bit back a curse and the urge to bang his head on the table. Thank God Steve was in the shower or he’d be laughing his ass off. “Yes, you. You sound like that’s hard to believe.”

“But you…really?”

“Really,” James said. “For a few months now, even. Why did you think I would take so many opportunities to be naked in front of you? I wasn’t raised in a barn.”

Tony paused and James could practically see the past few months rearranging themselves in his head. “For few months? Since when?”

 James sighed and pressed his fingers to his eyes. “You had just made dinner one night and you were clearly pleased with yourself, but it was horrible. You seemed so disappointed that I made myself eat my whole plate and got seconds so you would stop looking sad. Since then.”

Tony blinked rapidly. “Oh, yeah, that fucking pot roast. But that was months ago!”

“That’s what I just said!”

“Why didn’t you say anything? I’ve been over here -” Tony bit his lip against whatever he was going to say and James saw his face get red.

“Yeah?” James felt a smile bloom on his face and the tension drained from him as a giddy feeling bubbled in his chest. “Been over there, what, Tony?” But Tony just shook his head stubbornly, face still red. “Fine, I’ll go first. I’ve been over here making you breakfast every morning because you stay up too late working and I worry about you.” James leaned forward and kept his eyes on Tony’s face as he took his hand, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “I’ve been over here taking you out to the woods because you like to look at the stars but for some reason you won’t go outside to look at them by yourself. And I’ve been over here looking for excuses to touch you because I want you so much that sometimes I can’t think straight when you’re around. How's that for saying something.”

Tony’s smile was blinding, brown eyes dancing. “I didn’t take you for a poet, James,” he said teasingly, and James hooked a finger in his shirt and started pulling him closer.

“Just get over here and fucking kiss me already,” James said, and Tony did.

[jobrookekarev]

Falling Because of You

Chapter: 1/1

Words: 7100

Summary: Jo and Alex are doing their best to keep her pregnancy under wraps until Jo faints in the OR and their exciting secret slowly gets out to everyone.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Karev, and Atticus Lincoln/Amelia Shepherd. 

Characters: Jo Wilson Karev, Alex Karev, Carina DeLuca, Atticus Lincoln, Amelia Shepherd, Miranda Bailey, Maggie Pierce, Meredith Grey, Nurse Ginger, Sara Ortiz, and Levi Schmitt.

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: Fluff, Fainting, Surgery, Pregnancy, Vomiting, Jo's pregnant there's bound to be puke, and Tiny Baby Booties.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: There's a running joke about Jo being a princess or a warrior queen on the show and Camilla played Kate Middleton in a movie, so I figured giving Jo the same thing Kate had would add some extra drama.

……………………………………………………………………

Jo was in her happy place. Many surgeons had a favorite procedure or OR that they liked and for Jo, it was this. She was in OR 3 separating blood vessels between two twins that had Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome. She was essentially turning their one placenta into two and it was her new favorite thing. Ever since the pandemic started the one thing that didn't change was their work in the OR. They still took extra precautions cleaning and sanitizing, but they had already had all the essential PPE for surgery and stepping into the OR felt like a little bit of normalcy that Jo had missed over the past year. 

Along with the pandemic changing everything, Jo changed specialties and she was now in her last few months as an OB/GYN fellow.  This was her second time doing the procedure and it was going beautifully, despite the dizziness she'd had for the past few days. It was a side effect of the medication for her Hyperemesis Gravidarum that Carina had given her. Which wasn't working as Jo had barely kept down her breakfast and had thrown up at lunch. She was supposed to talk to Carina when she got out of surgery and hopefully, she could make it till then. 

Jo loved her baby so much that it made her heart swell. The tiny pea inside of her had captured her heart and the amount of love she had for them already surprised her. The only other person she loved this much was Alex, but just like Alex did, they got on her nerves sometimes. Like when she was trying to concentrate in the middle of surgery, but the baby had decided to make the room spin as she fought with them to keep her balance.

The dizziness and nausea weren’t so bad as they didn’t occur very often, but Alex was still worried about her. So much so that he had gotten Meredith to keep an annoyingly close eye on her, but Meredith had her own surgery. Jo was on her own for a few hours and was determined to get through this surgery. She was halfway done having, paused when twin A decided to move in front of the camera.

“This is so cool!” Levi exclaimed, his eyes were glued to the monitor as he moved the camera and watched her work. 

Levi was on her service today and had scrubbed in with her as he wanted to see what drew her to OB/GYN and fetal surgery. Jo smiled as he moved the camera and they got a glimpse of the twin’s face before he moved the camera back to look at the placenta. She had been on her feet all day and it was beginning to take its toll on her. She looked up at the clock for the first time since the procedure started, not wanting to miss a second of it, but then her vision faded around the edges. 

Jo blinked a few times and then looked over at Levi. “Schmitt stop.”

“Is everything okay Dr. Karev?”

“No,” Jo said, letting go of the instruments and stepping back from the table. 

Jo took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she put one hand on her belly as if it would calm her baby. Usually, all she had to do was pause and take a few deep breaths or sit down, but this was different. Her vision darkened and things faded around the edges. As the lightheadedness made her feel weary and Jo reached out to put her hand on the table.

Jo blinked and realized that she was laying in the recovery position on the OR floor, all of the nurses and other staff were leaning over her. She had no idea how she ended up on the floor or why everyone was around her, she just felt heavy and tired and hot all over. Despite the cold OR, Jo was sweating in her gown and one of the nurses put an ice pack on the back of her neck.

“Welcome back Dr. Karev,” Nurse Ginger said, squatting down next to Jo, her eyes wrinkling as she smiled under her mask.

All of the nurses were talking above her as Ginger kneeled beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. Jo was too weak to do anything and was still a little out of it as she lay there and someone put a square alcohol wipe under her nose. She tried to breathe it in and let it rouse her, but all Jo wanted to do was rest on the nice cold floor.

“Dr. Karev? Is she all right?” Levi asked, panic filling his voice.

“She'll be fine Dr. Schmitt, just wait here for Dr. DeLuca,” Ginger said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Should we get her up on the gurney?” One of the other scrub nurses asked. 

“Yes, but let's give her some ammonia inhalants first to see if we can revive her more,” Ginger said, putting a packet of smelling salts a few inches from her nose. 

The smelling salts did their job as Jo felt more alert and lifted up her head to look around the OR. 

“Ugh that stuff is terrible,” Jo said, as the ammonia burnt her nose and mouth and she tilted her head away.

“There we go,” Ginger said, patting Jo’s shoulder. “Alright let's get her on the gurney.”

“I thought you died!” Levi yelled, from where he stood on the other side of the patient. 

“I’m fine,” Jo insisted as the nurses stripped off her surgery gown and gloves leaving only her mask.

Several of the nurses lifted her up onto the gurney and Jo thought she'd die of embarrassment if she ever regained her strength. She stared up at the ceiling and the doorway out of the OR as they wheeled her out. Ginger remained at her side and smiled down at her. She put a reassuring hand on Jo’s arm while one of the other nurses took her blood pressure.

“What happened?” Carina asked as Jo heard her footsteps run up the hall. Jo looked up at Carina as she reached down to take Jo’s hand.

“She fainted, but one of the other nurses caught her so she didn’t hit her head,” Ginger said to Carina as she tilted her head.

“I can’t get a read on her BP,” the other nurse said, releasing the pressure on the cuff.

“I’ll try once we get her settled,” Ginger said with a nod as the other nurse disappeared. 

“Jo, how are you feeling?” Carina asked as Jo looked to her left to see Carina looking down at her, wearing her scrub cap and mask.

“Tired, but okay. I am okay right?” Jo said as she breathed a sigh of relief when Carina nodded. Jo hated being fussed over by Carina and Alex, but Jo would happily let them fuss over her now. 

“Fainting is a common sight in pregnancy. Pregnant women faint all the time, I had one faint on me last week, but it could be your meds too, so let me give you a check up after I finish your procedure. I did page Alex, but he’s in an emergency surgery so they will tell him when he’s done,” Carina said, putting a hand on her arm and giving it a light squeeze as Jo nodded. As much as she wanted Alex his work was important and she didn’t want him worried about her during surgery. “Is there anyone else you would like me to get for you?”

“Yeah, can you page Link or just Meredith, she knows I’m pregnant,” Jo asked, Carina nodded and one of the other nurses ran off. “What about my patient?” 

Jo lifted up onto her arms, which was a terrible mistake and only brought back the dizziness as her stomach churned. 

“Your patient is completely fine,” Ginger said, as she and Carina put a hand on her shoulders and pushed her back down. 

“I'm going to go scrub in, now but when I’m done I shall come and see you,” Carina said, rubbing her arm as she smiled down at her. “In the meantime take it easy and let Ginger take care of you.” 

Carina looked down at her and her eyes crinkled as she smiled under her mask. Ever since Jo switched specialties and started her fellowship with Carina the two of them had become close friends. Carina was excited for Jo’s pregnancy if not extra precautious when it came to her pregnancy care.

“Karev,” Dr. Bailey's booming voice yelled at them from the end of the hall. “What is this I hear about you fainting in my OR.” 

“Good luck Jo,” Carina said, making a quick exit back into the OR. 

“No, don't leave me,” Jo said, reaching out to her in the hope that she would save her from Bailey's wrath. Carina hesitated, but just sent her a wink as she disappeared inside. Jo grumbled as she looked back at Chief Miranda Bailey storming towards her. “I'm sorry Dr. Bailey I have this headache and it makes me dizzy.”

That was the excuse they had been using, the past few weeks as they tried to hide Jo’s pregnancy. So far most of their friends and coworkers bought it, but Link was highly suspicious and Jo suspected that he would figure it out sooner or later. 

“A headache!�� Bailey said putting her hands on the side of the gurney. With her clear helmet face mask respirator they called the space helmet she leaned over Jo in a truly terrifying way as Jo sunk back into the bed. “You willingly stepped into an OR with a headache that was messing with your abilities as a surgeon, leaving a third-year resident to continue your procedure.”

“Schmitt continued the procedure!” Jo said sitting up again, which in combination with her recent fainting and the movement of the gurney was not a good idea. 

Jo's stomach churned and before she knew it, she was pulling down her mask and leaning over the side of the railing to throw up all over Bailey's shoes. She stared down at the white hearts and pink flowers on Bailey's surgical clogs that were now splattered with vomit, fearful to look up. Bailey stepped away from her and Jo slowly lowered herself back down to lay on her side. Ginger gave her a tissue to wipe her mouth with and Jo put her mask back on as she cursed herself for getting into this situation. 

“I have not been vomited on since I was a fourth-year resident,” Bailey said in astonishment as Jo curled up and tried to hide on the gurney. “Ginger, take her to a recovery room and paged Shepherd for a Neuro check.”

“That’s not necessary,” Jo argued, but Bailey silenced her with a look and Jo resigned herself to lay back and shut up.

“And tell the other Dr. Karev to take her home when he gets here,” Bailey said before she left.

Jo squeezed her eyes shut, holding her stomach, and begged whatever forces were at work that she wouldn't embarrass herself again today. Thankfully for her, Ginger remained quiet for the rest of their ride down the hall.

“Hey Jo,” Link said, placing a hand on her shoulder as Jo looked up to see a huge grin across his face through the space helmet he was wearing. “I heard you threw up on the Chief.”

“Ugh don't remind me,” Jo said, swatting at his arm. “Or I'll throw up on you too.”

“Hey, don’t jinx it,” Link said, pulling back and helping Ginger push her gurney down the hall. “I've already been spit up on twice today.” 

Jo laughed, knowing that her godson was particularly prone to spit up and at this rate, it looked like her kid would be too. Link smiled down at her, putting his hand back on her arm and rubbing up and down as they parked her inside of an empty recovery room. 

Link looked around and grabbed a chair before sitting down beside her. “Jo, you passed out in an OR. Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well.”

“I'm fine,” Jo said, brushing him off and ignoring his concerned look. 

“Fainting is not fine Jo!” Lincoln said, giving her a look. “And if Alex were here, I'm sure he'd agree with me.”

“I’m sure Dr. Karev will be just fine,” Ginger said, with a knowing nod. “I’ll get you some juice and be right back.”

Jo smiled and whispered thanks to her, as she left. Link took off the helmet and put it on the bedside table, but pulled a mask out of his pocket for when Ginger returned and Jo took off her mask as well. The two of them had both been vaccinated and both of their families had been co-quarantined together for the past two months, but given that the pandemic was still ongoing they were still taking precautions at work.

As soon as she looked over at Link she sighed. Jo knew he wouldn’t let it go and that Alex would do the same. Alex was too worried for her and she knew she'd get twice as much concern and nagging from him. At least with her husband, she could kiss him to make his grumpy look go away. 

They heard a knock at the door and Jo saw Amelia peek her head in and Jo bit her lip trying to think of a way to get out of this before Ginger got back. “Hey Jo, I heard you threw up on Bailey’s shoes.”

Jo groaned, putting her hands over her face as her cheeks turned pink. She wasn’t surprised that her puking incident with Dr. Bailey’s shoes had spread all over the hospital. With how the current gossip cycle worked Jo would be the subject of whispers and ridicule for weeks.

“And she fainted in the OR,” Lincoln added, ignoring the glare that she sent his way.

“Yeah I heard about that too,” Amelia said, adopting the look of a more concerned doctor rather than a friend as she stepped into the room and took off her mask. “Bailey paged me and said she was concerned about you. What happened?”

Jo looked over at Link and grabbed his hand. As much as she wanted him there, she didn’t want him knowing she was pregnant just yet. “Can you go grab my bag from my locker and check on Alex? He’s in surgery, but can you see how much longer he’ll be?” 

Link looked confused but nodded and squeezed her hand. “Yeah.”

Link left, but not before he and Amelia exchanged a few whispered words and a parting kiss. Jo tried to slowly sit up and Amelia put down the railing and moved the upper part of the bed into a reclined position as she came closer to examine her. Jo felt exhausted and still faint as she leaned back against the bed. She put a hand on her belly remembering her tiny sweet pea sized baby inside of her. Jo thought it best to just tell Amelia the truth and hoped she could keep it a secret, even from Link.

“I'm ten weeks pregnant, on top of that I have Hyperemesis Gravidarum. Carina put me on medication because the weekend we found out I was pregnant, I threw up non-stop and by the time we came in I was dehydrated. I’ve been dizzy before, but I've never fainted and Carina said she’d check on me once she’s finished with the surgery.”

“Oh my god, you're pregnant!” Amelia said with a smile as she leaned over to hug her. “We’ve all been waiting for you and Alex to have a kid. You must be so excited, congratulations.”

“Thank you, we’re really excited as well,” Jo said, smiling as Amelia hugged her. “But can you keep it on the down-low and not tell Link. We aren’t telling everybody yet, only Meredith and Carina know.”

“Yeah, of course, and that makes sense as to why you fainted. So since you're the OB Fellow what would you recommend as a course of action for your care, Dr. Karev?” Amelia said with a smile as she handed Jo the tablet with her chart. 

“I want a fetal doppler to check the baby's heartbeat and a pelvic exam just in case. Ginger said she'd bring by some apple juice and crackers, but I don't think I'll be able to keep it down so I'd prescribed Ondansetron for my nausea as it’s worked in the past,” Jo said in putting her orders into her chart and sending out a page to Sasha the only OB Resident she trusted to give her an exam other than Carina and instructed her to bring down the fetal doppler. 

“Sounds good, but let me check you out just in case,” Amelia said, grabbing the BP cuff that was still wrapped around Jo’s arm and pulling out his stethoscope as she grasped her wrist to take her blood pressure. 

“Is a full exam really necessary,” Jo sighed, tilting her head as Amelia wrote down her BP in the tablet. 

“If you want me to keep this from Link, yes,” Amelia said, raising her eyebrow. Jo smiled and sat back as Amelia continued to examine her and had Jo grip her hands. “Why haven’t you told him yet?”

“I love Link, but he freaked out when he found out you were pregnant and I already have Alex fussing over me, I don't need Link to do it too and it's nice to have the baby just be mine and Alex’s,” Jo said as she smiled and looked down at her hand over her baby. 

“I get that,” Amelia said, giving her a soft smile as Amelia undid the BP cuff and had her touch Amelia’s finger and then her nose. “Have you experienced any headaches?” 

“No, and no other neurological effects apart from the dizziness,” Jo said as she sat back Amelia checked her pupils.

“Okay, well your reflexes and grip are good, and your BP is back to normal,” Amelia said, pulling back and putting her stethoscope around her neck. 

Sasha came down and gave her a quick pelvic exam. Jo hated having to change into a gown and that Amelia officially admitted her as a patient, but for the sake of her baby, she complied. She wasn't dilated or bleeding so Jo sent her away, opting to do the fetal heartbeat check herself. Amelia moved the bed back down as she warmed up the gel packet in her hands. Jo undid the strings of her scrub pants and tucked the blue towel into the hem of her pants. Jo then pulled up her shirt and laid back as Amelia poured the now warm gel onto her belly. 

“Okay, I have no idea how to do this. The last time I did a fetal doppler I was a resident,” Amelia said handing Jo the doppler.

“That's okay, I’ve done it a hundred times at work, and after we heard the heartbeat the first time I borrowed one from the hospital. Alex and I listen to it every night. I’m usually able to find it over here...” 

Jo trailed off as she moved the doppler over her belly to the spot where the heartbeat was last night and sure enough, the strong sound of her baby's heartbeat filled the room. Jo smiled as she listened to it, completely forgetting to pay attention and count the heartbeats.

“Your baby's heart rate is 172 beats per minute which is normal for ten weeks when the BPM is at its highest around 170. Your baby's heart rate is steady and strong,” Amelia said, smiling as she wrote it down on the tablet. “You and Alex must have already started work on the nursery then. Are you gonna expand on the space you have set up for when Scout stays over?”

Jo let out a breath of relief, knowing that her baby was healthy and okay, but kept the doppler on her belly, enjoying the sound of her baby's heartbeat. “Kind of, but we're thinking of buying a house. The loft and neighborhood aren’t really kid-friendly, but Alex’s mom, Helen, has sent out a dozen little baby hats and booties. She said she’s even working on a baby blanket for us as well.”

“Is there anything in particular you guys want? I loved the Snoo and those little WubbaNubs. Oh, I’ll get you the monkey one! Also, are you having a baby shower? After you tell people of course,” Amelia smiled as Jo finally handed her the doppler and exchanged it for a few paper towels so she could wipe off the gel. 

“I’d love the monkey one, Alex will get a kick out of it, and yes we're planning on having a baby shower, I’ve attended five on the OB floor so far and I want one of my own,” Jo said, balling up the tissues and the towel and pulling her scrub top back down before putting her hand over her baby. “And my patients always give me their recommendations for the best baby products. I've been writing it all down ever since Alex and I started trying so I have a full registry now.” 

“Well email me the link and I'll try and get you something good because Auntie Amelia gives all the best gifts,” Amelia said, with a smile and a little giggle that was infectious as Jo laughed. 

When Amelia started dating Link, Jo wasn’t sure how she’d fit as Amelia joined Jo and Link's family. In the past year, they had grown closer. So close that Link often complained that Jo was replacing him with Amelia as her best friend. Amelia put the doppler in the drawer next to her, so she could check the baby's heart rate again if necessary. Jo thought she was done until Amelia pulled out a thermometer from the drawer and ran it across her forehead.

“Any other symptoms, any fevers?”

“No.”

“You’ve been fatigued and have been complaining of back pain and heartburn,” Link said as he walked into the room and took off his mask. He handed her the bag, giving her a look as Jo scoffed at him and crossed her arms.

“Yeah, because I have a cold and a puppy that refuses to walk down the stairs so we have to carry him,” Jo insisted, setting Link with a look before. 

“Well I’m sure Reeses will learn to navigate the stairs eventually,” Amelia said, hiding her smile as she dipped her chin, but she sent Jo a wink and she knew Amelia would keep her secret. “Well you’re not running a fever now and it looks like just a cold, but I want to run some labs and double check since you did faint and threw up. I also think you’re dehydrated again so let’s start an IV.”

Jo sighed, she was frustrated that her medication wasn't working and worried for her baby's development. She looked down and realized she was still holding her belly and moved her hand to take her wedding rings off the necklace. She always put them on the necklace Alex had given her for Christmas, during surgery and slipped them to her finger now. 

“Is Alex out of surgery yet?”

“No, I just checked, but he should be out pretty soon,” Link said, sitting down next to her and reaching out to hold her fidgeting hand. 

“Do you have surgery or anything?” Jo asked, trying to seem nonchalant and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Nope,” Link said, relaxing back and settling in. “I’ve already pushed it and put Nico in charge, but I can go if you want to be alone?” 

“I suppose you can stay,” Jo shrugged, but gave him a thankful smile as he squeezed her hand. 

Amelia left, but not before Link tried to get more out of her, but Amelia just patted his cheek and gave him a kiss before she left. Jo had seen Link in love a few times, but not like this. Amelia was good for him, she was a tiny firecracker that brought some excitement to Link’s life and forced him to let loose a little bit. With Amelia and Scout, Link finally had the family he always wanted and Jo was so happy for him.

Ginger came back and she set Jo up with IV fluids, some apple juice, a few crackers, and the Ondansetron so she could keep it all down. As Amelia had officially admitted her, Ginger put a hospital bracelet on her wrist, which thankfully only said that she was under observation and listed her wool allergy. 

Dr. Sara Ortiz came by to take the blood sample, and thankfully Jo didn't faint again. However, Ginger made her wear a stupid fall risk bracelet, that Link wouldn’t let her cut off. In exchange for Jo promising to keep it on Link grabbed her an extra blanket straight from the warmer. Since she would be stuck there for another few hours, Jo curled up on the bed as She and Link talked for a while until Alex came rushing in.

“Jo,” Alex breathed out, a look of desperation across his face as he rushed over to her tearing off his mask.

Jo sat up and let herself be enveloped by Alex's hug, wrapping her arms around his neck. She heard the door open and saw Link sneak out before she hid her face in Alex’s shoulder.

“We’re fine, the baby and I are fine.”

“You passed out in an OR, you're clearly not fine!” Alex exclaimed as he looked her over. 

“Alex,” Jo said, placing a hand on his cheek. He instantly melted. His eyes growing soft, his shoulders slumped as he leaned into her hand. Jo smiled as he softened for her. “The baby made me dizzy and that’s all it is. We’re fine, I promise.”

“I know, but please don’t scare me like that again,” Alex shook his head. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you or the baby.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, okay, come here,” Jo said, pulling him over to sit next to her. 

“My heart just dropped the second Amelia told me,” Alex said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and leaning his head against hers as he put his hand on her stomach. “You should have gotten me sooner Hayes could have finished my surgery.”

“Link said that it was an emergency surgery and that they couldn't pull you out without risking the patient,” Jo said, closing her eyes as she put her hand over Alex's. “If it’d make you feel better, you could go yell at a resident for my labs so we can get out of here.”

“Which one?”

“Baby Ortiz.”

Alex smiled and shook his head. “Bailey said not to scare the Interns anymore.”

“Well it looks like you won't have to anyway,” Jo said, looking past him to see the back of Ortiz's head outside the window as she waited patiently. 

Alex got up as they put on their masks and let Ortiz in. Meanwhile, Link, Bailey, Maggie, Jackson, Richard, Andrew, Levi, Helm, and even Owen, waited outside. Jo saw Alex’s phone ping as a text from Meredith demanding an update flashed across the screen. She looked out at everyone waiting outside, Jo never thought that she would have so many people in her life who cared about her.

Alex reached for the paperwork in Ortiz’s hand, but she pulled back. “Perhaps Dr. Karev would prefer to be given her results alone and then inform you later Dr. Karev.”

Alex shook his head but looked over at her, asking permission to stay and Jo nodded. He closed the door before coming back to sit on the bed beside her. Jo then looked at Ortiz as she opened the tablet in her hand, giving it to her. 

“Your blood results are clear of infection, or any other concerns, but it also showed elevated HCG levels consistent with a pregnancy of ten weeks gestation.”

Jo and Alex looked at each other and then back at Ortiz before they started to giggle. “We know.”

“You know,” Ortiz said, looking at them wide eyed as Alex tried to stifle a laugh. 

“Of course I know. I’m an OB/GYN, we’ve been trying for a baby and we found out I was pregnant a few weeks ago. Now can you please go get Carina so I can get out of here!” Jo yelled at them as she was frustrated that everyone was overreacting. Alex however, seemed to find it absolutely hilarious and let out a full laugh as Ortiz turned pale. 

Ortiz scurried out of the room and straight into Carina who came and looked over at Jo and Alex in the bed. She shut the door behind her as she took them in. “What is going on?”

Jo looked over and Alex as he laughed, his laughter was infectious as she realized it was all so ridiculous and laughed with him. She smiled wider than she had in a long time and she was giddy with laughter as she looked over at Alex. 

“God Jo, I've never been so worried about you,” Alex said, shaking his head with a laugh. “And only to find out that you're just pregnant.”

“I know, I know, and I fainted. I know it's concerning, but it's just my pregnancy, right?” Jo asked as she looked over at Carina who had picked up her chart and was reading it.

Carina giggled as well as she nodded and looked over the chart. “I agree with your conclusion Dr. Karev, you are indeed fine, but I suggest we switch your medication to something else as it is clearly not working for you. I heard about Dr. Bailey’s shoes. I'll have the new prescription sent down to the pharmacy that you can pick up right away. I suggest you take the day off and relax, but feel free to come in to work tomorrow. I want to keep a close eye on you and monitor you on the new meds. I see that Dr. Shepherd had cleared you and that you were a little dehydrated earlier hence the IV, and as soon as it’s finished you may go.” 

“Thank you, Dr. DeLuca,” Jo said, giving her mentor a nod. Carina patted her leg before she left and Jo turned back to Alex as they took off their masks. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Hey it's okay, you're pregnant and your meds aren’t working, it's a lot,” Alex said, rubbing his thumb on her stomach from where it was still on her belly. “You’ll finish your IV and we’ll go home, take the rest of the day off, and spend some time with Reeses. You’ll take your new meds and that should help with the Hyperemesis Gravidarum and the dizziness, then we’ll go back to work tomorrow and everything will be okay. In the meantime, I'm going to take care of you, while you take care of yourself and our baby.”

His eyes and his smile were soft and Jo just nodded, leaning in to kiss him and relax against his lips. She pulled back, but he kissed her again as she laughed, she leaned her head on his chest and put her hand over his, on her belly. Even if she wasn’t showing yet, their baby was there and she couldn't wait to feel them move inside of her.

Alex nodded and leaned down to kiss her head. He couldn’t seem to keep his lips off of her, but Jo was still tired and was content to lay in his arms. Jo soon closed her eyes and the rest of the world drifted away. She listened to the sound of Alex breathing in and out and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep. Alex let her sleep till the IV bag was finished and Jo woke up to Ginger taking her IV out. 

“I never did say congratulations,” Ginger whispered to her, putting a cotton ball over her IV sight and Jo gave her a sleepy nod.

Jo slowly woke up and Alex grabbed her things from her locker in the lounge so Jo could change back into her clothes. They figured that their laughing had let their friends know that Jo was okay and they weren't surprised to see that none of them had stuck around outside the room.

“Well, what is it? What happened? Are you and the baby okay?” Meredith asked the door swinging open as she flew into the room still in her mask, surgery cape, and scrub cap. 

“The baby and I are fine, I just fainted because of my meds,” Jo assured her as Alex finished tying her shoes and stood up putting a hand on her back. 

“You're fine and the babies’ fine,” Meredith said as she let out a sigh of relief and walked over to Jo.

“Yes, we’re both fine,” Jo sighed as she nodded and Meredith enveloped her into a hug. 

Alex cleared his throat before he turned to look at her, he wasn’t used to being Meredith's second favorite as she fussed over Jo now that she was pregnant. “We're going to go home for the rest of the day.”

“Okay good, you should rest, why don't I bring over some dinner for you tonight?” Meredith said, as Alex and Jo exchange to look. “I never said I'd cook, I'll pick some pizza and drop it off around six, Maggie is taking Zola and Ellis to a Girl Scout’s meeting tonight, so it’s just me and Bailey. If you want I'm sure Bailey and I could take Reeses for a walk at the park.”

“That’d be great. I'm sure Reeses would love to play with him,” Jo said, as she grabbed Alex’s hand and stood up.

“Good,” Meredith said as her eyes sparkled with joy. “You two are such a good Auntie and Uncle to my kids and I can’t wait to be an Auntie to your baby.”

Jo and Alex exchanged a look and Jo could tell that he was smiling under his mask just like she was. They had been Aunt Jo and Uncle Alex to Meredith’s kids for so long. Babysitting them whenever she needed them too, taking them on day trips around Seattle, getting them whatever they wanted, and then hopping them up on sugar before giving them back to her. Meredith always talked about how much she would spoil their kids when they finally had them, giving them a taste of their own medicine.

Link knocked on the door looking between them with raised eyebrows before his eyes settled on Jo.

“It's just a cold, I’m fine,” Jo insisted, despite how she knew she wasn't the least bit convincing.

“We heard you two laughing from the hall. The whole hospital knows you're pregnant,” Link said and Jo could see several of their friends behind them. “You up for any visitors?” 

Jo just nodded and sat back down on the bed as Link opened the door. Amelia, Maggie, Jackson, Bailey, Richard, Owen, Levi, Helm, and several of the other doctors and nurses came in and crowded around her bed as Jo sat back down. She looked over at Alex who just smiled as he put his arm around her waist. 

“Congratulations!” Everyone shouted as they all took turns hugging her and Alex.

“Congratulations, I'm glad you're okay. We were all so worried. You are okay right,” Maggie said, hugging Jo before she pulled back and grabbed her wrist to check her pulse.

“I’m fine,” Jo said, but let Maggie do it anyway.

“Are you sure, because fainting isn't necessarily neurological related it could also indicate a heart issue,” Maggie asked, still looking at her with a look of concern. 

“I'm fine, I’m just pregnant,” Jo insisted as she looked over at Alex and Jo put her hand on his knee as he squeezed her hand. 

Their friends continued to offer congratulations and fussed over Jo as she assured them she was fine. Regardless they all vowed to keep an eye on her and offered their help for whenever she would need it. Jo expected nothing less from a room full of doctors but was happy that she could relax. She could barely pretend that she wasn’t exhausted at the end of the day and now no one would bat an eye if she took a nap at lunchtime. Even if it meant Alex would be able to hover over her more than he already did. 

“This is so exciting!” Link said, pulling Jo in for a hug. “I thought Scout would be the only baby of the hospital running around after his big cousins and now he can have a friend, and me I need a parenting friend. I mean Amelia too but mostly me.”

“You’re welcome?” Jo said she wasn’t sure if he was excited for her or just excited that he wouldn't be parenting alone.

Link let her go and Bailey walked over to her, setting her with a look through her helmet as Jo bit her lip, thankful that her mask covered her expression.

“So you're having a baby,” Bailey said, Jo thought she'd be in trouble for keeping her pregnancy a secret from the chief, but Bailey just smiled and put a hand on her arm. “Congratulations, Dr. Karev, although you’ve probably heard that a million times by now.”

“Pretty much, but it hasn't gotten old yet,” Jo said as she relaxed and leaned against Alex who automatically put his arm around her waist although he was still talking with Meredith. 

“It never does,” Bailey said with a bright smile that Jo easily matched, sharing in her excitement. “Just try not to throw up on my shoes again?”

“I will aim for the floor instead,” Jo said, with a solemn nod.

“Um-hum,” Bailey hummed, but smiled and Jo knew she was forgiven.

Things turned into a small party as everyone ran out and got balloons, and flowers, and teddy bears, even a few onesies and hats. Ever since they had all been vaccinated the restrictions around the attendings being able to be in groups together had relaxed. Which meant that everyone used any excitement as an excuse to crowd around and have a little party. It had been a hell of a year and they could all use a little excitement. It only ended when everyone was pulled into a massive trauma. Finally, around 4:00 pm they walked out of the hospital, with more flowers and teddy bears than they knew what to do with. Their plan was to take the flowers home to die and relax on the couch. 

As they passed the gift shop Jo paused and pulled Alex in. There was a pair of the cutest baby booties in the window that she had been staring at the past few weeks. Now that everyone knew she could get them without anyone questioning her purchases or someone starting a rumor. Even if Jo knew that the baby would just kick the booties off the second she put them on, as she put them in Alex's hands they both knew that they couldn’t resist. Cindy in the gift store packaged them up with a knowing look and told them congratulations before they walked out of the hospital. 

Once they got home and changed out of their work clothes, Jo took the baby booties out and cut off the tags. She cleared out one of their clothes shelves and placed the onesies, hats, and booties on the now empty shelf, then she laid down on the bed and just stared at them. Alex put her things away and ran across the hall to Layla’s to get Reeses, who bounded into the loft before he culled up next to her and Alex laid down next to her too, staring at the baby clothes on the shelf.

“We're going to need a bigger clothes cabinet.” 

Jo smiled and squeezed his hand from where it rested on her belly, before rolling over to look at Alex as he stared down at her.

“We're going to buy a house, one with a backyard and a swing set and a playroom for all their toys that is never going to be clean. We're going to start using our vacation days and we're gonna go to the zoo and the aquarium and museums, and the beach and we’ll go camping and to freaking Disneyland and all of those vacations that we never got to take as kids. Promise me, we're going to give our kid everything that we never got as children and that we’re going to love them more than anything in this world.”

Jo staring intently into his eyes and Alex nodded, looking more serious than she had ever seen. “I promise.”

“And after the baby is born, I need you to take paternity leave with me and once we go back to work we're going to adjust our hours. We’ll do the 4 on 3 off, days. It'll be 12 hour shifts and we'll be on call some nights, but we'll get the weekends off and it'll be just us and the baby. And when they get older and go to school we can work more but for now, we need to make time for them. We need to promise that we'll always take time for them regardless of our careers. I know we can do it because I’ve seen Meredith do it. We have to try, we have to be better than our birth parents and our crappy foster parents. We have to be there for our kid.”

“Yes, I promise, listen to me Jo,” Alex said, putting one arm around her, but keeping the other on her belly as he pulled her close, and rested his forehead against hers. “You and me, we're going to be better than the people who raised us. Our kid is going to have so much more than we ever had. We're not going to be perfect, but we’ll be good and our kid will be loved and safe. They’ll grow up in a good home and I’ll work to make sure of that, I promise.”

Jo felt the tears collect in her eyes as she nodded and snuggled up to Alex, nuzzling his neck with her nose. Alex kissed her forehead and Jo thought of the baby booties. Their kid would have a good life and a good home and they would do their best to be good parents. Jo was sure of that.

……………………………………………………………………

AN: Also I fainted while getting a blood draw recently. Yeah, it was not fun, but all the nurses were really nice. I’ve fainted with IV’s before, but this was new and not fun. This wasn’t inspired by that, but I did use my experience in this story.

[darkenedreaper]

So Was I

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader, Avengers x reader.

Warnings: angst, strong violence, language.

Part 2/?

You heard footsteps close behind you. Multiples heavy ones. And so you found a place to hide, one that you hoped would cover you, as there was no way you could fight them without armour. But you didn’t want to fight them. All of a sudden, a hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you sideways, away from the footsteps and into a SHIELD storage room. “What the hell is going on!?”

Thank God. It was Maria. She shook her head and put her hands up in the air not wanting to hear your explanation as it would cost her more time in trying to get you somewhere safe.

It was a few weeks after the terrorising incident now, maybe two months or three. Maria had lent you a room in her apartment to stay at. You were ever so thankful. It had been long enough now. Maybe they had looked back over the file. Maybe they’d taken the time to calm down and maybe give you the opportunity to explain. So you were headed over there. Extremely cautiously. Everywhere was quiet. Not a sound from the tv, not a sound from the kettle, not a sound from anything. Making your way with quiet footsteps to check if the Avenger Quinjet was still there. If it was, they’d still be here. If not, maybe they could be on a mission, or at Clints farm. You dreaded the sight. The sight of the big jet with the Avenger logo sitting still as ever. They were here. You gulped and swallowed back down your heart turning around to the slow, approaching footsteps.

It was Cap. And he had something in his hand, hang on was that your-

He threw it in the ground as it landed right beneath your feet. His shield was strapped onto his arm, and his fight stance was in play.

“Put on your suit, let’s go a few rounds.”

As he said that, the rest of the Avengers all started pouring behind him, one by one.

Tony, Bucky, Bruce, Clint, Wanda, even Vision. And. Natasha.

You bent down slowly and picked up your suit button. Holding it in your hand with one click it began to crawl its way up and around your body. The black Kevlar suit was decorated with a few white stripes to match your white arc reactor. They represented a skeletons body, as it had white bone like patterns spreading from your reactor. And finally your helmet, it was simply a black skull. You reached into your back pocket, throwing away your weapons. They were your family, you didn’t want to hurt them, no matter how much they hated you. You didn’t want to hurt her, and you made a promise to her that you would never.

“I don’t want to fight you.”

Silence.

“Now!” Tony yelled and Cap threw his shield at you, distracting you while they al started racing at you. Bucky was the first one to jump onto you, you did your best to block his punches and you tried to hold his metal arm prisoner. That wasn’t a good idea. You were launched backwards on the ground by him.

Steve came over to you and picked you up by your neck, and slamming down onto the ground, effectively damaging your right side. You wriggled out of it, dodging Clints arrow that had tried to pierce you. Then you were face to face with him. Clint took of his sword swiping it at your face, giving you enough time to react and jump backwards. He kept forcing you back until your back hit a little car that helped the workers get around.

You rolled over along the car as his sword slammed down, taking the bonnet right if the car, you picked up a piece of scrap metal that was large enough to act as a shield. You blocked his slashes and stand with it before knocking the katana out of his hands and hitting him on the head with the metal, making him fall to the ground.

“Get her Romanoff!”

“You can do better than that Banner! “Come on do it!”

“Use your shield Cap!”

Before you could check on him, you’d be jumped by the rest of them team before Tony had you in a headlock, then he had flung you onto the floor. He then began to hover above your chest before lowering himself to you, hands wrapping themselves around your neck.

All you could do was try to claw his hands off of you but when they were covered with met it wasn’t an easy task. So you spluttered out,

“T-Tony. Check. File...Please.”

The genuine look of being sorry in your eyes, made him stutter and freeze his motions of his fingers. He had landed in his feet now giving you some attempt to get up. In his head nothing added up.

If you were Hydra, you’d be fighting for your freedom, so why weren’t you. And your muttered words begging him to check the file crossed his mind. His thoughts disappeared though by oncoming footsteps of his fellow teammates all staring at you waiting in anticipation. They could all see how much it was a struggle for you to get up. Both nostrils were bucketing out blood and your armour had several dents. You had been hit several times by the shield, Bucky had attacked your arc reactor and successfully made a handprint around it. But he was down now, after disabling him arm, it had made him not unconscious but surprisingly tired.

Bruce had given you a nosebleed about 15 minutes ago which hadn’t stopped bleeding. Natasha had thrown several knives at you, creating tiny slashes all over. As well as using her thighs to take you down, she had laid several punches to your abdomen and your face. Tony had used his blast refraction once. Obviously wanting to make you suffer.

After so much effort, you finally got back up onto your feet. You grabbed half of a car door scrap and held it as a shield, shadowing Steve’s stance. Tony had lifted his hand up aiming it at you. And in the pod it held a noise that was able to make Wanda pass out, much like Rhodes had in his suit.

All eyes went to Buckys body and Clint who was just starting to wake. Then her eyes met yours. Her eyes held a lot of disgust towards you, knocking her best friend out. How could you? If looks could kill you’d be dead 23 minutes ago. You looked down to the ground, getting your breath back, your arc reactor had weakened, evident by it flickering. You spoke,

“I’m sorry Tasha, you know I wouldn’t do this if I had any other choice. And I can’t, because your my friends.”

“So was I.”

She she signalled Tony to blast you, which would most likely knock you out and your reactions took place and you held up your ‘shield’ as the blast hit it, pushing you backwards and it bounced the scrap metal to them. Flinging them all backwards. Except for Cap. Who had now spot from hiding behind his shield.

You charged towards each other using what but of strength you had left in you to beat his face. And after several punches he grabbed your first mid air and kicked you right in your stomach, making your stumble backwards, before he grabbed your arm and started jamming his shield onto your chest.

However you turned his shield against him, taking it into your own hands hitting his sides with it and his nose causing it to bleed out. You then launched it at him only for it to crash into his chest, catching it. Your heart was getting weaker, they all could tell by your heavy breathing.

You hard metal footsteps start to run towards you again.

“Not this shit again” you muttered.

Friday herself was panicking, practically begging her boss to stop due to the state you were in.

“This has gone too far!”

“Boss please listen!”

“I’m sorry Sir, this has to be done.”

She powered of his suit, as he backed away from the chaos not wanting to possibly get attacked and have no defence but his hands. His back hit the wall and she powered up his Arc.Hologram.1

And in that hologram was a file of the actual Hydra Agent. Her profile picture was there. Not you. Her date of birth was there. Not yours. He took shallow breaths before he finally realised what they were doing and what he’d done. He tried to communicate through the comms but all he heard was grunts of pain, yelling of where to attack.

“Guys. Steve.” He whispered still in complete shock. Friday took over and read out the birth date, and create a mental image of the actual Hydra Agent using her vocabulary.

By now, Steve had picked you up over his head and chucked you down. He’d then mounted you and landed three very painful and heavy punches to your helmet which was starting to wear off. Friday was hurriedly finishing her sentence before he grabbed his shield, jammed it once into you helmet, jammed in twice into your helmet. Ripped of your helmet. Held the shield high above his head, and had crashed it down straight into your arc reactor.

“I can confirm it is not Agent L/N.”

Everyone had gone silent at this and still. Bruce was leaning against a container. Clint has propped himself up onto his elbow, Bucky was still on the floor, his head turned towards you and Steve. Wanda and Vision didn’t take part and could only watch with frowns. Tony had his mouth open, gasping at the sight that stood before him.

And Natasha, was leaning against a cart, tears flooded her eyes as she was frozen in place. After hearing the confirmation she only then realised what she’d done. And now, with what she could see, her heart broke. Seeing a vibranium shield stuck inside of your chest, she had to place her hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. But that didn’t stop the tears. Tears had now began to fall down her face.

You lifted your head up from the ground to look at him in disbelief of what he’d just done. You could feel your breathing get heavier as looked at you once, shut his eyes, took three deep breaths and breathed out the word, “sorry”, before he collapsed off of you and by your side. You took a shaky look at him before blinking twice, to clear your tears, and turned your head to the side before back to the front looking at the shield that was lodged right in front of your face.

He got up after a couple of seconds of shaming himself and with a strong grip, he pulled the shield from your chest and placed it elsewhere. He knelt down beside you, tears starting to form in his eyes as he saw your broken form.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged.

(My gif lol use it as you please)

@natasha-danvers @aaron-despair @confusinggemini612 @thewidowsghost @ecruzsalaz @fcbarcelona-and-marvel-4-life @sammys-world-of-imagination @gaytrashgoblin @capmarvelq @nat-romanoffdanvers @fayhar @submissivebigirl26 @lesbian-x-blackwidow @nelouath8 @emilyprentisswife @captainjosslett @geek-2 @natalia-quinzel @ladyqueenxoxo

[detectivecarlosreyes]

Family Doesn’t End In Blood 

Also on Ao3 | Word Count: 1.7k | Day: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Day 3: Buddie + “Is that blood?” “…..No?” + hurt

@buddieweek2020

It was a farmhouse fire that they were called to. He and Eddie were just supposed to do a sweep to make sure all the farmhands had made it out because not all of them were accounted for yet.

 What they weren’t told was that there was an unsecured shotgun and shotgun shells in said burning building. Which just so happened to have been heated so much by the flames that they had started to ignite spontaneously, firing off just as he and Eddie passed by the room.

Luckily it was at that moment that Bobby was pulling them out, saying that the two unaccounted for farmhands had made it out at a different exit and there was no one else left.

Neither of them were hurt, at least that’s what he thought as they exited the house. It wasn’t until they moved back to the truck to exchange their equipment for hoses when Eddie stumbled, a hand pressed to his chest for a moment in discomfort before straightening up again with a small shake of his head.  

Buck thought nothing of it until Eddie took his helmet off for a moment to swipe at the sweat on his brow, leaving a clear streak of blood as he does so.

“Uhh Eddie. Is that blood?” Buck asks, pointing to Eddie's forehead.

Eddie just looks at him confused before he wavers again, swaying on his feet, “… no?”

Buck steps in closer for a better look and he’s glad he did because at that moment Eddie fell forward, collapsing against him. “Hey, hey, hey, I’ve got you. Let’s lie you down, alright.” He helps to ease him to the ground.

“Buck.. my chest… it… it hurts?”

“Alright, I’ve got it okay, just don’t move.” He turns to the matter at hand and inspects Eddie’s turnout coat finding three small holes that had torn straight through.

Tearing it open, Buck finds what he’s looking for and feels his stomach drop at what he finds. There was a bloodstain right in the middle of Eddie’s torso and it was getting bigger.

Holding pressure to the wounds, Buck calls Hen and Chim on the radio, doing his best to sound calm and in control, even with the panic welling up inside him.

This is the second time that he’s had Eddie’s life literally in his hands and Buck all he can do is try to stop the bleeding as he waits, doing his best to keep Eddie conscious but he can tell that his partner was struggling and that made it all the more concerning.

Thankfully, he didn’t have long to wait before Hen and Chim were by his side asking questions that he does his best to answer. He doesn’t really pay attention to what they’re saying until Chim says “His blood pressure is dropping, probably bleeding somewhere internally. He doesn’t have a lot of time from the looks of these stats, we need to get moving now!”

As they give Cap a quick rundown of what was going on as they move him to the ambulance, Buck doesn’t move from his side, keeping his eyes firmly on Eddie’s now unconscious face. Buck knows that they were far away from the nearest hospital, and he knows that from where the pellets went in, that it’s highly likely that they hit the liver and he knows that Chim and Hen know that too from the way they looked at each other.

He knows how life-threatening they can be, which is why out of fear for Eddie’s life he blurts out, “a blood transfusion. We can do a field blood transfusion to buy him some time to get to the hospital.”

It’s enough to make the two paramedics pause for a moment to look at him and say that they didn’t have the supplies for something like that, “You can use me, Eddie and I have the same blood type and we have the equipment to do it.”

For a second he thinks they’ll refuse and say it was too risky, but then they exchange a look and then Hen was beckoning him inside as Chim steps out to take the driving seat. He takes a seat in the nearest care seat and Hen quickly sets up the transfusion line and just like that they were on their way.

Even though she makes him swear to her that he would to tell her when to stop the transfusion lest he faints from blood loss himself, Buck knows he won’t, not if it meant giving Eddie the precious time he needed. H knows that he will do anything, give anything, to make sure that Eddie made it back to Christopher no matter the cost, he loved them both too much.

Hen’s voice breaks through the silence that had fallen over the inside of the ambulance “His blood pressure looks like its stabilising. That was some good thinking, Buck.”

All he can do is nod, eyes fixated on Eddie’s face only half-listening.

“You love him, don’t you?” She goes on, fully snapping him out of whatever trance he was in, as she checks and adds more gauze packed against Eddie’s wounds.

“What? Hen, no-” he starts in a knee jerk reaction to the question, but he cuts himself off when he sees the knowing look she gives him and collapses against the back of his seat, “is it that obvious?”

She leans across and pats him on the knee, “I suspected, but I didn’t know for sure until you confirmed it just now.”

“Damn and here I thought I was doing so well at hiding it.” He says with a chuckle, feeling somewhat relieved over the confession.

“We’re 5 minutes out. How are you feeling back there, Buckaroo?” calls Chim from the front of the ambulance, effectively interrupting whatever Hen was about to say.

“All good back here Chim, never better.” He answers, doing his best to sound truthful even though he may or may not have just started to feel waves of dizziness and nausea was over him.

In no time they were pulling in at the Hospital and he had been disconnected from Eddie. He watched as the hospital team wheeled him through the doors and as he steps of the ambulance, he catches himself on the door, vision spotted with darkness.

The last thing he remembers is turning to Chim and saying, “I lied,” before blacking out.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** 

 Eddie wakes slowly to the sound of beeping, it’s the first thing he notices. It takes him longer to add sight into his functioning sense as he slowly blinks his eyes open only to see the typical muted white that could only be associated with a hospital room.

It takes him several moments, before his memory of what happened filters through the haze of the pain meds he seems to be getting. Looking around the room, his eyes eventually land on the curious form of one Evan Buckley who surprisingly was not sitting in a visitor’s chair but actually sitting up in a bed next to him scrolling through his phone, with a nearly empty saline bag hanging beside him.

“Buck?”

As soon as he makes a sound Buck had dropped his phone, relief clear on his face, “Eds! You’re awake!”  and anticipating the next question that was on his lips he explains what happened, “When those shotgun shells went off, some of the spray got you in the chest just below your sternum, hitting your liver. You had surgery to get it fixed.”

It takes him a second to process the information before another question comes to mind, “And why are you here?”

A new voice joins them then, taking over in answering the question. “I’ll tell you why; your crazy partner of yours gave you a personal field blood transfusion because you had massive internal bleeding and he ended up giving you twice as much blood as he should of and passed out when we got to the hospital.” Hen says disapprovingly as she stands beside Eddie and reaches over to give his hand a squeeze, “Good to see you awake, I’m going to go find your aunt and Christopher and let them know you’re up.”  

Her announcement had him raising his eyebrows at Buck, who just shrugs looking completely unapologetic, and all Eddie can do is shake his head at him, unsurprised that Buck would do something like that.

He can’t help but feel something akin to both awe and love for the man. It hasn’t escaped his notice that ever since the tsunami, Buck had time and again put his safety over his own, and given the circumstance its time that he addressed it.

“Buck…” he starts, getting the man’s attention but then finds that he has no plan on what to say next and yet somehow once again Buck reads him like a book.

“Eds, I know what you’re going to say, and I know it was reckless, but if me doing something reckless means that you get to make it home again to your family, to Christopher, then I would make those same choices in a heartbeat.”

Eddie opens his mouth to respond but Buck continues on, “He can’t lose another parent, Eds, and I’ll be damned if I don’t do everything in my power to make sure you make it home to him.”

Feeling exasperated by Buck’s lack of self-preservation, he frowns at him “You’re an idiot if you think we don’t see you as family Buck, you have been for a long time now, so don’t think for a second that Chris would be any less upset losing you as he would be losing me.”

“You’re his dad Eddie, it’s completely different.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true-” Before he can continue trying to convince Buck some more, the sound of Christopher’s crutches interrupts the conversation and his attention is taken up instead by his son.

He gets it, Buck’s reasoning, and he will forever be grateful for the man himself, so when Chris was situated on his bed, so he could give his dad a careful hug, Eddie looks over the top of his head at Buck and mouths ‘Thank you’ while considering the possibility that maybe there was more to their relationship and he should probably do something about it and properly make him part of the family.

Which he does.

5 days later.

[faline-cat444]

Super Giles:Chapter 10-The Last Corner

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

We start this final chapter off with some sound effects...French sound effects and some of those are arguably more easy to turn “English” than others so I dared not try due to lack of experience on the...Weirder...ones.It’s not like all of it is “Honhonhon” and manga tends to be the same way these days by keeping in the kanji effects and placing either the Japanese or English equivalent to the noise in plain text(All depends on the publisher’s/translator’s choice.

Walter Oliviers,Michel Smets,and/or whoever can be credited to writing this story,I hope you are happy with what you managed to accomplish.Whether you’re still alive or between then and now you died and one of my mother’s interpretations of the afterlife is selected spirits re-manifest at certain times if their actions are brought up...I hope the other ghosts aren’t laughing at you for being remembered this way.You arguably had a group of people forced to read this story for some school systems.It might just be due to how I had to pick up a French copy or my own weirdness of opinion but this kind of came off a little too philosophical at points than something your typical fourth grader’s brain is going to comprehend.Then again,if publishing it this way was the only way to share your vision it’s understandable since at least by how my school experience was those in the age chunks between twelve and eighteen would probably chalk this all up to “Drugs,lol”.

If there’s anything to truly take from all this it’s that pretty much anything has the chance to be written if you strike the right time/people.With this now out of the way I suppose I still need to return to that story from the early 1900s about the messenger boy who gains the ability to bounce like a rubber ball from his fairy godfather as he hunts down the boogeyman.

Ehh...While I mean a lot of that this whole story is pretty much how Krusty reacted to Worker and Parasite.

“Vroom-Vroom,” roared the bulldozer.

“Crips-Cnars-Schrip,”cried the crane.

“Schrans-Schrans,”the excavator gobbled.

“Ssssch-Ssssch,”hissed the grinder.

The machines were impatiently waiting for near each other in line,throbbing,thundering,rumbling,and grumbling.A worker raised a small green flag.Suddenly he lowered his hand.This was the sign they could begin.The machines rushed in a cloud of dust.The trees and bushes flew in the air,as well as gravel and earth.

“I’ll show them how a lamppost dies,”the lamppost said solemnly.He straightened up like a candle,held out his lamp high,turned on the light,and shed as much light as possible on the arriving troop.

Giles looked admiringly at his friend.

“Why am I not that brave?”he thought,”I am terribly afraid.”He was shaking like a pipe,and as pale a dead man but smelled like a broken down motorist's gas can.

The devourers were still approaching.Fifty more meters.Forty.Thirty.

A jeep came honking its horn and stopped right in front of the machines.It was the fat sergeant with the crimson face.Huffing,he got out of his jeep.On his arm hung a brand new uniform.

“What is happening here?”he gasped.The workers jumped from their machines and surrounded him.

“I am here on a special mission for General Vanderspleen,”said the sergeant with an air of importance.” I must deliver a new uniform to the Interior Gasoline Supply Soldier!”He held out his hand in Giles’ direction.

“Soldier?”growled an astonished worker.”I only see a gas pump!”

“The supply soldiers know how to camouflage,”said the sergeant in a hushed voice.”The more he looks like a gas pump,the greater value he has as a soldier!”He pushed the workers aside and walked towards Giles.

“On behalf of General Vanderspleen,I am putting on your new uniform here,”he said solemnly.He took the pants off his arm and held them out in front of Giles.

The workers were watching with their mouths open.

The sergeant threw the pants over his shoulder and placed the uniform jacket over Giles’ casing.He then added a cap for the finishing touch.

“Voila,”he grumbled with difficulty.”It doesn't entirely correspond to the rules,but it's better than nothing!”

He saluted,turned around and climbed back into his jeep.

“But what about our highway?”asked an astonished worker.”That pump…Uh…The soldier is in our way. Should we move it?”

The sergeant's eyes flashed flames.

“Are you crazy,old man?”he shouted.”The soldier is a point of support for our troops!Personally decorated by the general! If you dare to touch them,I'll drag you all to the War Council.And then you will all be shot!”

He started up the jeep and drove away.

The workers were looking at Giles,full of respect.They started their machines again,but instead of heading straight for the gas pump and lamppost, they took a turn and passed a few meters further.

“They…They passed us,” Giles stammered.”They made a turn.We…We’re saved!”

“They let us live!”the lamppost sputtered.

At the same time,they started to laugh and cry with joy.

---

The next day brought in the asphalt paver.The wide strip of land was completely covered with a thick layer of asphalt.After this machine came the line puller.It drew beautiful straight white lines that divided the highway into traffic lanes.Three one way, and three the other.Giles and the lamppost watched the work with a keen eye.As if it was their own highway.And it kind of was.

When the highway was completely finished,it was solemnly inaugurated by the minister and a whole collection of personalities.First they drove in their shiny black limousines down the brand new road.The minister looked satisfied.

“Splendid road!Well done!” he kept repeating with no signs of stopping.But since he had a very large and expensive cigar in his mouth it sounded more like “Schplendid woad!Well wone!”

The high personalities nodded.

Suddenly the minister noticed Giles with his new lemon-yellow casing.

“Stop here!”he ordered.The engine slowed down.The minister took the cigar out of his mouth and asked in a stern voice “Why hasn’t anyone told me about this gas pump?”

The high personalities stared at each other and shrugged.They didn’t know either!

“As Minister for 'the inauguration of new things',I should have known.Such negligence!”

“We can officially open up this pump,”a personality proposed.”We just opened the highway,we've got all the tools with us!”

Giles did not understand very well.”Are they going to open me up?”he worriedly wondered.”But then all my gas would leak out!The minister will certainly not allow it!”The minister thought deeply while chewing his cigar.

“Alright,” he replied briefly.

Immediately there was great commotion.

“Where is the ribbon tender?” he shouted at the top of his lungs.”And the bearer of the ministerial scissors?”

The ribbon tender advanced with dignity towards Giles.In his mouth he had a few pins and in his outstretched hands lay a large red satin ribbon.

“He’s blindfolding me first,so I can't see how they going to open me up,”Giles thought.

But the ribbon tenderr draped the ribbon around Giles and made a beautiful knot in the front.Giles looked like an Easter egg.

The scissor-bearer stepped forward even more solemnly than the ribbon tender.On a black velvet cushion he carried a pair of golden scissors.

“Surely those are metal scissors,”Giles moaned.

The minister held his cigar in one hand,and the scissors in his other.”I declare that this wonderful new lemon yellow gas pump is officially opened and is legally ready for use.”

With a quick gesture—as only a minister who inaugurates new things can do—he cut the red satin ribbon.

“And now I will refuel first!” he added.The driver pulled the big limousine forward and the treasurer slipped in a hundred into the slot.” Luckily he doesn't know about the truck,”Giles thought.”I'm only going to let him think he's the first.Otherwise he will get angry again and refuse.”

With the cigar in his mouth,the minister removed the pistol and wanted to place it in the reservoir.

“You fool!” Giles hissed.”Pay attention to your cigar!A single spark could make this whole place blow up!”

He sealed off his rubber hose and did not release a single drop of gas,in fear of an explosion.

“Your cigar,your Excellency,” said one of the high personalities.

“Hmm,It’s true,hold it for me!”

“Whew!”Giles let out a sigh of relief and released  the gas.If all his clients were this reckless,he would stop right away.

After the minister and his escorts disappeared--certainly to open other “new things” elsewhere—other cars arrived.And it was good as Giles had imagined it…An uninterrupted flow of vehicles,big and small,all kinds of models and colors.Regularly,there was one who stopped to refuel and Giles did his best to satisfy everyone.He acquired a good reputation and more and more people came to seek their gas from him.

In a line of sometimes several miles,customers waited patiently for their turn.

In the meadow behind Giles,the children were playing tag and soccer until their parents called them.

That evening,by the light of the lamppost,customers continued to line up.

“Gasoline is really cheap here,” explained a blonde woman,who had come especially from Brussels.

“And the pump has such a pretty lemon-yellow color,” her friend said.

Everyone had a good reason for preferring gas from Giles than any other source.

“It lasts a long time,”one claimed.

“It allows you to drive faster,”another thought.

A third source said it made their car give off more pleasant noises.And a fourth said he came mainly for the atmosphere.

In the midst of all this commotion,Giles carried out his work with stride.He swallowed piles of money and gave gas in return.Only once did he get scared…It was the sight of a beat-up old sidecar.On the motorcycle there was a man and in the sidecar a woman.The man got off and removed his helmet.

Giles had a shock.”Father!...Mother!...”

The father placed $100 in the slot.”This is my last one!” he grumbled.”But I’m putting it in the best gas pump in the world.”

How proud Giles was.The best pump in the world,his father said so!Instead of swallowing the money,Giles spat out a whole lot.

“Hey,what's going on?” grumbled the astonished father.”This pump gave us a jackpot.”

“Thank you very much, my little pump!” he whispered and started to refuel.

”You know,”said his mother hidden by the helmet,”it may sound ridiculous,but suddenly I’m thinking very strongly of our Giles.He loved gas pumps very much.What became of him?”

Giles heard her sniffle softly,and he also felt tears come to his eyes.

Giles fill the tank to the brim.

“Now it’s giving us too much gas.We will surely have to come back here!” said his father satisfied as he tried to read the number of liters on the meter.But he did not succeed.”The glass plate is completely fogged up,” he said.

When the old sidecar pulled away,Giles gazed longly,thinking of the past.

“Hey,Pump,is it coming?” said a loud voice.

And automatically,Giles swallowed the next customer's money…

[3pirouette]

Fic: An Experimental Design (2/4ish?)

Title: An Experimental Design

Part 2 of The Pain Scale Series

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3  Anyone else please ask first :) 

Story Summary: Sequel to “What Number?”, also prompted from Steggy Bingo Bash Prompts.  Takes place about a week after that fic. 

Chapter 2: Crashing Reality

A/N: It feels like cheating, but I’m using the Steggy Bingo Prompt “Comfort” for this chapter. Also, by an overwhelming 2 votes on Tumblr, you asked for it: porn AND plot. This sort of fits that. First few paragraphs overlap, time wise, with the end of the last chapter.

~*~

The feeling in the air was electric, raw. He could feel it sparking through his suit, raising the hairs on his arms. His heart was pounding in his chest, beating harder than he could ever remember it. Perhaps he was simply keyed up, knowing she was waiting for him, needing him, but he knew, deep down, it was something more.

It was barely a second that he paused at the door, making sure it was closed behind him, but it might as well have been hours. He could feel her pain, feel her need and desire for him from across the room like a palpable heaviness to the air. He looked up, found her trembling on her knees on the bed, draped only in a barely tied hospital gown, hair wild and eyes wide.

Her hand was shaking with the effort to stay where she was, her thighs quaking from holding herself up. She licked her lips, and he was done.

Without a word he was moving, long, heavy steps as he tossed his cowl aside and unzipped his jacket. His chest was finally bare when he caught her as she leapt into his arms from the bed. Peggy pressed her body to his, the moan of relief that came from her lips positively lurid as she finally, finally found some relief from the pain.

Steve held her close with one hand and worked unsuccessfully at tearing the hospital gown away with the other, struggling to keep as much of them pressed together as he could. “I’m sorry,” he murmured over and over, nuzzling against her.

“You’re…” her voice was hoarse and she had to stop and swallow, take a deep breath and try again. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

“I’m sorry I’m late. It was worse than we imagined. And I’m dirty, I’m disgusting. I’m sorry, Peggy, We’ve been walking—”

She kissed him, forcing him to stop talking as she pressed her lips to his. She pulled away, sliding her face to the side of his, keeping their cheeks pressed tight. “I was worried, but you’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

He moved them to the bed, stopping when it hit his knees. He laid her on it gently, and her whimper of pain when he pulled away broke his heart. “Strip,” he ordered, his hands moving to his own belt. She was able to devest herself of the flimsy cloth quickly, and stripped her panties off without thought.

“How bad?” he asked as he bent down, untying his boots. He wasn’t surprised to feel her cold hands on his back; he arched up to let her press more of her body into him. He was unsure sure if it was tears of relief or pain he saw in her eyes when he looked up, but the fact that she wouldn’t answer him, or couldn’t, told him all he needed to know.

~*~

“I’ll tell you everything you need to know,” Dugan started, seated across from Phillips. Dugan’s voice was even as he recounted finding the nunnery to be a front for a Hydra base and how their intel had been a trap all along.

Howard, for his part, didn’t care about a nunnery. He paced in the back of the room, Dugan and Jones taking turns as they talked Phillips through the events of the last thirty or so hours.

Howard was more concerned with whatever the hell was going on between Steve and Peggy. With each pass of the room, he tried to put together what he knew, but it made little, if any sense to him.

He didn’t like it when he couldn’t figure out a problem, and this was a problem of the highest order.

Peggy was in horrible pain that didn’t respond to heavy doses of medication. The only thing that seemed to take away that pain was skin to skin contact with Steve. Peggy’s pain got worse the longer she didn’t have skin contact with Steve. He shuddered as he thought about the fact that there was some kind of sexual component to all of this. Howard knew the man didn’t want to do much more than declare his intentions for Peggy while the war was on, they’d talked about it once not too long after he’d explained to the poor boy what fondue meant.

Howard had never met a man more in touch with or surer of his moral compass. If something was forcing Steve against that compass, it was big and scary and threatening to Peggy. That was the only thing he could believe would make Steve go against his plans to be respectful and chaste during this war.

Dugan yammered on, Philips hanging on his every word as he made notes. Howard couldn’t put the pieces together, couldn’t find the through line that made sense.

“Stark,” Phillips barked out, “Stop pacing. You’re making me seasick.”

It had to be a side effect of something, had to be working wrong for her to be in that much pain, he figured, ruffling his hair and trying to still himself against the wall.

~*~

“We’re talking to Howard,” Steve whispered, holding her close. She was still trembling in his arms, the two of them tangled together. Steve was glad he’d kept his boxer shorts on, had he not, he might have lost control and taken her ask she kept begging him to. As it was, the bed had creaked perilously under them as they’d crashed together, relishing every inch skin as she moaned and writhed in his arms, the pain melting to passion with each touch until she fell apart in his embrace. His own shorts were soiled, though he’d gotten over him embarrassment of that weeks ago.  

“I collapsed in a briefing,” she whispered into his throat, lips gliding over the skin, “and you just ignored a commanding officer’s order to fraternize with me, to put it lightly. We’re both getting sacked.” She clutched at him like she had that first night, afraid to let go, afraid to feel the pain surge through her again. “The MPs will be showing up any moment, I’m sure,” her voice was tinged with sadness and fear, the loss real for her already.

Steve took a deep breath, taking his time and letting his hand smooth through her hair, the number of tangles against his fingers telling him so much about how long she’d been out of control. “They need us.”

Peggy laughed, a bark of disbelief and surprise. “Like a hole in the head, I’m sure.” She sighed as he pulled the scratchy hospital blanket up over their bodies, “At least I’m sure that’s what Phillips would say.”

He kissed her forehead slowly. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Peg, but we have to get you help.”

She nodded against him, yawning. “Yes, please.”

~*~

Howard circled the room, sitting on the edge of the Colonel’s desk quickly as the topic switched quickly. “Tell me everything you know.”

Phillips looked at the man with barely contained frustration. “Ass off my desk, Stark.”

Jones and Dugan tried not to laugh as the man scrambled to stand again with no chairs left in the room. Dugan swallowed down his mirth and looked cautiously between the two men. “Colonel, I don’t know much…”

Phillips nodded. “Anything you know would be appreciated, though we will have a discussion about why it was left off the official record, son.”

Dugan nodded before looking at Jones then back at Stark before finally resting his gaze on Phillips. “See, everything that was in my report and the sitrep was true. I grabbed Morita and ran, Cap went back in looking for Peggy. All the recon we had said it would be a quick in and out, I didn’t think to say anything about it because it was a sound tactical decision.” Phillips nodded, Dugan’s eyes bouncing nervously from Stark to the Colonel. “It was when I found them that we started leaving things out. I said she was weak, but in truth…”

Dugan’s eyes glazed over, his mind far away. “She was in pain. A lot of pain, and I couldn’t see anything that would explain it. Cap carried her back to camp and the sounds she was making…” he shook his head.

Jones took over, “We all offered to break camp, but the Captain refused, said she needed rest.” He looked down at his hands, a blush creeping up his neck. “They weren’t… they didn’t rest.”

“I’m asking this because I need to know, men,” Phillips started, his lips pressed tight together. “Did Rogers force himself on—”

Howard was shocked. Jones’ head popped up, his expression and his lips denying it. Dugan was so affronted he stood, tossing his helmet on the ground at his feet as he loudly objected.

Phillips held up his hands to stop the cacophony the two men made. “I had to ask, you know that.”

“Jesus, Phillips,” Howard stepped back, folding his arms tightly. “As if that man was capable of that.”

Dugan, still affronted, sat slowly, the displeasure clear on his face. “It was just the opposite. Steve put her down to get her some water and she screamed like she’d been burned. Soon as he stopped touching her, she was in agony.” He shook his head. “Next morning, she walked out of that tent like nothing had ever happened, same old Peggy.”

“Was the damndest thing,” Jones said, eyes widening as he remembered. “Not a whimper, not a limp, nothing. She said she felt fine, and there was no reason to believe otherwise.”

Howard shook his head accusing both men. “And no one thought to say anything? She was in that much pain and no one said a word?”

Dugan and Jones sat, stone-faced and silent, against Howard’s accusations.

At their silence, Howard turned to Phillips. “We have to pull them both. I have to figure out what’s going on.”

Dugan started to object, “You can’t—”

Phillips silenced him, standing. “I can’t? Oh yes, I very well can and will.” He pointed at the door, leaning over. “You and those two idiots keeping this secret might have cost Agent Carter her life. What if this hadn’t been days but weeks? What if we shipped them out and hadn’t known? What if there are repercussions for Rogers we don’t know about yet that show up in the middle of a fire fight, huh? You got a good answer for that?”

“No, sir,” Dugan and Jones both parroted.

“’No, sir’ is damn right,” Phillips sat back down, eyebrows knitting together. “Damned fools, all of you.” He looked down as he folded his hands together. “They’re off active duty as of this minute, the both of them. Stark, they’re all yours.” He looked up at the man, serious. “Fix it.”

Howard nodded, knowing it was a serious order.

Phillips turned back to Dugan and Jones. “You two are going to help. As soon as those clowns are done doing whatever it is they’re doing in there, you’re taking whoever you need back to that base and getting any and all information you can by whatever means necessary. You understand me?”

Dugan and Jones nodded, standing and saluting. “Yes, sir.”

~*~

Steve dressed quietly as Peggy lay tucked up in the hospital bed, sleeping deeply.

He had questions, and was prepared to get down on his knees to beg for the help he knew Peggy needed when Phillips inevitably dishonorably discharged him.

He looked back at her, her hair still tangled, a smudge of dirt on her cheek where he’d touched her, the dirt of the firefight and a day marching still covering him. He felt like he was tainting her, despite how much she needed him.

Deep inside, he knew he needed her, too. He knew he could feel her now like he’d never felt her before, knew when she was close, could almost feel a fuzzy version of the pain she felt burning through her until he touched her. He was different, too, and that was every bit as concerning to him as her pain was.

He opened the door and slipped out, prepared to fight for them.

[hopeatermeetsgodzilla]

Chapter 6

Emma took a deep breath, fiddling with the can of pepper spray she kept with her in case of self-defense as she eyed the helicopter pilot. It was now or never. Right now, they were on way to San Francisco, Serizawa having given Emma the permission to leave due to her daughter going missing. The plan, of course, was all other.

“Hey.” The scientist started, putting a hand on the pilot’s helmet and getting it off.

The pilot turned toward her, consterned. “Ma’am, I need that- ACK!” Emma sprayed the pepper spray in his face, blinding him before she reversed her grip and hit him as hard as she could in the face with the can.

The pilot fell to the ground, unconscious as Emma took his place. She immediately changed course, heading for Antartica. She took a deep breath. Hang on Madison, I’m coming!

-

Madison quickly slipped out of her cell, shivering and pulling her sweater closer to her. She had memorized the guard’s rounds, and they hadn’t taken her hairpins out, and she needed to figure out where she was.

She quickly walked across the base, looking around. They were multiple sideway hourglasses symbols stamped across the corridors, the word ‘monarch’ in all caps written underneath it. A few had colorful tags reading ‘Titan Liberation Front’ across them, the paint clearly more recent than the symbols. She just needed to find a map of the place.

She quickly hid as a pair of guards passed by, holding her breath until they were gone. She breathed a sigh of relief, and saw a door hanging half-open. She looked around her, and made a beeline for it.

As Madison hid behind the door, having heard guards coming by, she looked at the inside of the room. And nearly threw up. There was a small mountain of corpses here, most of them starting to freeze over from the cold and decompose from the lack of care. “Oh, god...”

“Well, what are you doing here?” Madison jumped, turning toward the the voice and shrinking in terror at what she saw. A strange, towering golden spirit with three pairs of pitch black eyes and what looked like an upside-down crescent moon on it’s forehead. It towered over her, tendril-like hair moving behind it’s head as if they were underwater.

And looking at it filled Madison with a bone-deep, primal fear. “Wh- What are you?” The spirit’s bell-like giggle did not do anything to assuage that fear.

“Why, I’m Ghidorah, of course!” The spirit informed her, a clawed hand attached to a long arm suddenly manifesting as it did so. The spirit’s claw tilted Madison’s head up, forcing her to make direct eye contact with it as an electric shock ran through her body. “And you would be?”

(Ichi would think about the fact that he could physically interact with this tiny human in his intangible spirit form later. Probably between getting out of here and killing the weak king. For now, he had to play a role, and if he had to defend the only human who had the good sense to fear him from the idiots who did not to play it convincingly, then so be it.)

“I- I’m Madison Russell.”

“Madison Russell...” Ghidorah tilted it’s head, it’s eyes blinking in quick succession. “Interesting. So you’re the human child... I thought you were supposed to be in a cage?”

The girl steeled herself. “I escaped. And I’m not going back until I know what’s going on! For example: what are you!? A ghost?” She whispered-yell.

Ghidorah giggled again. “No, not exactly. You are aware of what astral projection is, yes?” Madison nodded. “As for what I am, I believe the closest word you humans have is ‘god’.”

“... I see. And why are you talking to me?”

(The little human was much more wary and perceptive than the others, but she was also younger. Exploiting that should be easy, he just needed to channel his inner San, maybe cut down on the lying a bit, and think about the deplorable state his brothers’ psyches were in when he re-established the connection-)

“I’m just trying to get out of my icy prison, along with my brothers.” Ghidorah started, its eyes taking a downturned quality to them. Was it... sad? “Other gods, jealous of our power and bond, tricked us, and froze us within the ice of this place. We just want to get out and feel the sun on our face again.” It seemed to cheer up at that. “And that’s where you come in.”

Madison lowered a guard just a little bit. “Okay... how?”

“I asked the humans living here to help me free myself, but I had no idea they would kidnap you! Honest!” Ghidorah reassured her, claws grabbing her wrists and dragging her up. “But one of your parents- the female one- has come here to free you. Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait, my mom’s here!?” Madison exclaimed, baffled. All she knew about her mother’s current job was that it was 1) governmental, and 2) very secret. Did this have something to do with it?

Ghidorah giggled once again. “Yes! And she is waiting for you! Let’s go!” The specter took a wisp like form, some of it’s tendrils wrapped around Madison’s arms, dragging her behind it and outside of that horrible room.

She stumbled a bit, but followed behind it, the two speeding through corridors. Finally, they arrived before a locked door, Ghidorah taking back a more humanoid form and phasing through it. When the door opened a few minutes later, Madison rushed past the man that had opened it, throwing herself at her mother. “Mom!”

“Madison!” Emma exclaimed, hugging her daughter as tightly as she could. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

“I- I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Madison reassured her mother, sending a doubtful look at Ghidorah, who seemed to be in an argument with the old man that had opened the door, about whether or not it should’ve brought her here. “Do you know what that is?” She asked her mother, pointing at the specter.

“I... believe that would be one of the Antartica Titans.” Emma started. “We don’t know a lot about the them, but apparently, they have psychic powers.”

“Is that how you’re calling us, now?” Ghidorah asked, turning toward the two Russell with an inquisitive head tilt.

“I-” Emma turned toward her daughter, who nodded. Madison didn’t know how, but she knew Ghidorah was sincere with at least this question. “Yes. It was the most appropriate word we could find to describe your kind.”

Ghidorah’s eyes narrowed, but the specter otherwise didn’t change. “Where did that word come from?”

“It’s how the parents of the Gods are called, in Greek mythology. It’s also used as an adjective for ‘big’.” Emma explained, the spirit straightening it’s posture and eyes widening into their normal form. 

(The predecessors of those who rule the universe? Oh, Ichi liked that one, at least enough to allow the mistake that he and the weak king were of the same breed. He’d have to remember it, his brothers would surely like it too.)

“I see.” The specter finally said, a hint of satisfaction in it’s voice. “Yes, Titan will do nicely.”

“Well,” the old man suddenly started, Emma hugging her daughter just a bit tighter as he spoke. “Now that you have your daughter back, where’s the ORCA? Because I don’t see anything.”

“The ORCA,” Emma started, getting out the device Florès had given her out of her bag “is right here.”

Madison watched as the old man raised an unimpressed eyebrow, while Ghidorah tilted it’s head in confusion. “I thought it was bigger.” The specter commented.

The old man snarled. “Do you think I’m a fool, Dr. Russell?”

“Well, seeing as you’re trying to free three creatures no one knows anything about, and that you had perfectly good hostages you decided to kill before the time was up forcing you to abduct my daughter, yes.” Emma deadpanned, face not showing any emotions. “And- it’s a prototype for the ORCA’s final model I stole from Florès.” She explained. “He created it to make sure he could effectively downsize something as complex as the ORCA.”

“We’ll see about that. You two, follow me.” The old man told Emma and Madison, the three getting out of the room. They quickly made their way to an observation chamber, the window giving them an excellent view on a gigantic, seemingly glowing glacier where three shadows were visible. “Well? What are you waiting for? You want your daughter back, don’t you?”

Emma narrowed her eyes, but turned on the device, and turned the frequency up to the point nothing else could be heard as everyone looked at the glacier. In the suspense of waiting, no one noticed a terrifying smile etching itself onto Ghidorah just as he faded away.

-

A sound burrowed itself deep in the ice, artificial and deafening and awakening the bodies of the three creatures stuck within it.

{Brothers? It’s time.}

Three pairs of red eyes opened.

[Fucking finally.]

Fingers twitched, creating small cracks in the ice.

(Alright! On three?)

Small, microscopic cracks spread, reaching the surface of the glacier.

{[(One...)]}

The microscopic contact with the outside was all they need to start absorbing energy.

{[(Two...)]}

Energy flowed from outside to their heart and to their fingertips.

{[(THREE!)]}

They released the energy, and the ice exploded in a flash of lightning.

[beanzykin]

Trick or Treating adventures

Tony and Steve take little Peter our for Halloween

Words: 1.7k

A petite Peter awoke from his slumber. His mission: annoy his father.

The small bean wandered around the tower, searching for Tony. He passed by Natasha, Wanda, and Bruce on his way over.

" Hey мой маленький паук, where 'you going?" Peter looked up towards his aunt and his eyes instantly widened. " Uncle Clint?!" Natasha laughed at the small boy's confusion. " No Глупый паук, it's still me, Aunt Tasha." He gave her another confused look. " I'm dressed up as uncle Clint! It's Halloween, Детеныш паука!" Peter made an 'O' face as he looked towards the others.

" Brother Vision and uncle Thor," he stated, pointing at Wanda then Bruce. Wanda lifted the small child and set him on her lap. " We're dressed up as our boyfriends," Peter perked up and many ideas ran through his head of who he wants to be. " I wanna be Daddy!" He jumped up and down in Wanda's lap.

" I wanna surprise Daddy and be Iron Man!" Bruce chuckled at how happy Peter was. " Why don't we see if Pepper and Happy could design you an Iron man costume?" Peter nodded his head enthusiastically before his smile faltered. " Uncle Bruce, where's your hammer?" The scientist laughed yet again then sighed. "I can't lift that hammer, only Thor can." 

~~~

Peter ran to his room in excitement. 

"Miss Friday, may you call Ned, please? I gotta tell him about my Halloween costume!" The bean jumped up on his bed and lifted the pillows in search of something. "Hey, Pete! What'cha looking for?" Ned's face came up on the hologram, really, really close up. "I'm looking for my Iron man gloves, the ones Pepper made me!" Ned backed away from the camera and watched Peter flip over yet another Black widow plush. "Why would you look under your stuffies?" 

Peter huffed in defeat, spreading his body out in a T-pose across the bed. "I keep them there at night for when I watch Daddy's fights," he mumbled a little something about pretending to be him but no one caught on. "Oooohhh…" there was a small silence before Peter took a deep breath, letting it out in a loud scream like groan before his voice cracked. He soon sat up and looked at Ned through the hologram. "I'm all good now." He gave a smile. "What are you going as?" 

Ned quickly ran out of the frame view and came back two seconds later holding a brown furry costume. "I'm going as chewy! I already got the impression spot on,"

~~~

"Little Peter, Pepper would like you to meet her in the living room." Peter looked up from his colouring book. "Loki Doki, thank you Miss Friday!" He abandoned his pregnancy test blue Crayola crayon.

He skipped his way through the halls and soon made his way to the living room. "Hiya, Miss Pepper!" He ran up to her and gave her a tiny leg hug of excitement. "Hiya, bean!" She crouched down to his height, "I finished that Iron man costume for tonight," Pep smirked as she felt Peter's arms wrap around her once more. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" The small boy jumped up and down in her grasp. 

Pepper pulled out a little Iron man mask to fit the tiny boy's head, along with an Iron man onesie. Peter quickly snatched the costume out of her hand and put it on, with Pep's help of course. After she helped Peter with the suit, he tugged the mask on his face and looked up smiling, even if no one could see. Pepper laughed at his antics. "Someone's excited, you ready for tonight?" Peter took his mask off, leaving his curls ungroomed and nodded his head over and over. 

“What’s daddy going as?” Pepper sighed, “Your dad doesn’t like to dress up for Halloween,” Peter frowned. “But everyone else dressed up!” Pepper remembered seeing Thor dressed up as Bruce trying to convince Loki to dress up as something. “Oh yeah, and what did they dress up as?” She stood up and went to sit on the couch. “They went as their boyfriends. Auntie Nat was dressed as uncle Clint, sister Wanda was dressed as brother Vision and uncle Bruce was dressed as uncle Thor!” He exclaimed, trying to get up to Pepper’s lap. Pepper hummed and helped the boy sit in her lap. 

“What if daddy went as his husband, papa?” 

~

“Hey, Tony, would you be so kind as to take the younger boys out trick or treating?” Steve walked into his husband’s lab, mingling around a bit. “Sure thing,” He sighed, “I can’t believe that Harley doesn’t want to go with us this year…” Steve put a hand on the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist’s back. “Hey, he’s getting older, he just wants to go to a Halloween party with his friends,” Tony looked up. “I didn’t even know he had friends!” There was an awkward silence.

“What are you wearing?” 

Steve looked at his outfit. A black tank top with a blue circle in the middle, resembling the Arc reactor in Tony's chest. A pair of red sunglasses resting on his forehead, a fake beard and some light blue jeans. 

“I’m you!” Tony sighed again. “You could’ve just asked for the suit, that would’ve been easier,” Tony gave his husband an unimpressed look. “But then I would be Iron man,” He whined. “ don’t get me wrong, I love Iron man. I would just much rather be my Tony Stark!” Tony rolled his eyes,” Why did you dress up as me anyway?” As if his excitement could get worse. “Everyone else is dressed up as their significant other, I wanted to join!” By now it was clear Tony was extremely annoyed at Steve’s antics. “Whatever,”

~

Peter waddled into his father’s lab, one question mingling in his mind: who are you going as? 

“Daddy, daddy!” He cheered in his little Iron Man costume. Tony turned around to face his son. “Oh. My. God! You’re dressed as a little me!” He squealed at his son’s adorableness. The question that was on Pete’s mind was soon forgotten because of his father’s excitement. 

“Yeah!” He mimicked the hand reupholsters while making sound effects with his mouth, even if he didn’t have the gloves.

“Bud, where’d the Iron Man mittens Pepper gave you go?” Peter flushed in embarrassment, he was hoping Tony wouldn’t find out they were missing. “I might have lost them…” 

Tony sighed. “Aw man, guess we’ll have to get you new ones then,  huh?” The frown on the spider's face turned upwards into a giddy smile again. 

“I had something to ask you…”

“Oh yeah? And what was that?”

“I forgot…” He pondered for a moment. “Oh! I remember, who are you going as?”

Tony chuckled. “Daddy doesn’t dress up for Halloween, sorry Pal,” He picked up the once again frowning Peter and propped him on his shoulders. “But I’ll be taking you and your friend Ted Trick or Treating tonight!” He tried to hype up the little tike again.

“His name is Ned, daddy!” Peter hugged his father’s head. “Is it? Darn, I could’ve sworn it was Ted,” Peter laughed at what he thought was one of his dad’s jokes, when in reality it wasn’t. 

“Common please, daddy… you gotta dress up its Halloween!”

“I betcha no one else in the tower is wearing something, other than your Papa,” Tony tried to spar himself from the embarrassment of dressing up.

“Nope! Auntie Tasha was dressed up as Uncle Clint!” Peter leaned forward so he was blocking Tony’s view with his hair. “Everyone’s dressing up as their Boyfriends.” He said Matter-Of-Factly.

Tony sighed, knowing there was no way he’d get out from dressing up as his boyfriend… Captain America. Not to mention he always thought Cap had the cringiest suit. Ever. Like, why little wings on his helmet? With the giant ‘A’ on the top too? And don’t even get him started on the bright stripes.

“You want me to dress as Papa, don’t you?”

“YEAH!”

~

So here the three were, Son, Papa and Dad. Peter and Steve dressed as Tony and Tony dressed as the one and only first avenger: Captain America. In the old fashion suit.

“This is stupid, lets just get Ted-”

“Ned.”

“Ned and go.”

Steve chuckled. “Common, babe, can’t be that bad…” Tony turned to his loving husband. “Your suit looks like a three-year-olds Treehouse Superhero special.” 

“Alright, someones not in the mood for Trick or Treating,” Steve picked up his son, him and Peter both blowing Tony a little raspberry before buckling the smaller Tony in his car seat.

~

Once they got Ned, the four were going door to door. Tony stealing some of Peter’s candy while he wasn’t looking.

It wasn’t till later, when they got to the Thomson’s house, that Tony was visibly tired.

Peter rang the doorbell, Star Wars theme pillowcase in hand. A man in a fancy suit opened the door, a little boy in an Iron Man costume like Peter behind him.

“We don’t give out candy.” The man in the suit said with a cold expression. Steve’s happy-go-lucky stare turned into a glare within seconds, this dude didn’t have to be so disrespectful about it. Peter’s still a child for crying out loud.

Before either of the super parents got to say anything, the other little boy dressed as Iron Man spoke up. “Hey! Puny Parker, is that you?” The boy, now Peter knew named Flash, teased. 

This time the Peters parents didn’t even speak, they were just in shock at how ignorant this child was.

“That’s a stupid costume. You don't look anything like Iron Man nor have the gloves to go with it,” 

That was where Tony lost it.

“EXCUSE ME? I HAVE YOU KNOW THAT MY SON IS THE FUTURE IRON MAN AND HIS COSTUME IS TEN TIMES BETTER THAN YOUR POOR COSPLAY! DON’T EVEN LOOK AT MY SON EVER AGAIN-”

Tony was getting pulled back by his husband as Peter and Ned watched in awe. Meanwhile, Flash ran back into his house.

~

“Tony, you don’t threaten little children.” Steve took off his fake glasses, scolding the billionaire. “He made fun of our kid, our kid, Steve. Weren’t you upset?” Steve sighed.

“Of course I am, child’s a brat. But that doesn’t mean you can almost kill him,”

“Whatever, we don’t need to go Trick or Treating next year. I’ll just buy Pete candy.”