#March prompt: Truth Serum | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

captainsophiestark · 4 years ago

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Truth Serum

Grant Ward x Reader

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Day Twenty-Eight of Fictober!

Fandom: Marvel

Fictober Prompt: “Do I have to do everything here?”

Summary: Ward and reader are both experienced Specialists on Coulson's team. During a bust on a group of mercenaries attempting to buy dangerous stolen technology, Ward and reader got separated from the rest of the team and ended up back at the Bus. They're both beat up, but they can't rest yet, because the rest of the team needs someone to cook up some truth serum, and Ward and reader are the only ones around to do it.

Word Count: 1,602

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Ward, come in!"

"Go Simmons."

I listened in as Ward picked up his radio, the two of us marching up the ramp of the Bus. We'd been in the middle of a full-team field mission going after a group of mercs trying to buy some stolen tech, but we'd gotten separated from the rest of the team. Now, Coulson and everyone else were finishing catching the mercs, and they needed someone to mix up a dose of truth serum. Unfortunately, Ward and I were the only ones at the Bus, and time was of the essence if we wanted a better shot at catching any partners in crime. FitzSimmons were a pretty far drive away, which just left me and Ward.

It was up to us.

"Alright, first, go into the lab," said Simmons, her voice crackling over the radio.

"We got that part," Ward ground out. He didn't have much patience with the science kids at the best of times, but after we'd both been beat to hell fighting a group of baddies, his patience was thinner than usual. It didn't help that we didn't have time to patch each other up either, and we were just pushing through the cuts and bruises we'd recieved.

"Alright, then go to the supercooled freezer with chemicals, and grab the beaker with the red liquid."

Ward and I came to a stop outside the freezer in question and found a few different containers with red liquid.

"Which one is she talking about?" asked Ward, giving me a tired look.

"I don't know... Ask her."

Ward sighed, then flipped communications back on.

"Simmons, there's a bunch of stuff here with red liquid."

"Yes, but only one beaker."

I could see Ward getting ready to snap at Simmons, or else just crush the radio, so I reached out and gently took it from him before he could.

"What does the beaker look like, Simmons?"

"It's a cylinder with a small spout for pouring," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I took a deep breath, then shoved the radio back at Ward before grabbing the matching container out of the fridge.

"Ask her what's next."

"What's next?"

I shot Grant a look as I pulled the beaker out of the fridge, and he gave me a sarcastic version of the same look back. I just smiled and shook my head, walking over to a clear lab table as Simmons continued her instructions.

"Alright, next, you need to get into the cupboard closest to the back door and get the bag of polymers from the stop shelf. It should be the only bag there."

I looked at Grant, and he just looked back at me. Neither of us moved for a minute, and then I sighed dramatically and went over to the cabinet in question.

"Do I have to do everything here?" I called as I went.

"Out of the two of us, you're the least likely to blow us both up. So yes."

I chuckled, then went over and grabbed the stuff out of the cabinet. Thankfully, Simmons' instructions didn't need clarification this time.

I rejoined Ward at the lab counter, and the two of us walked through a few more of Simmons' steps. He was the radio man, and I did the actual science. Science had never been my strong suit, but I thought things were going alright with Simmons' help.

Once we got to the point of letting the mixture sit for a few minutes, a new voice crackled over the radio.

"Ward. Y/L/N. How's it going?" asked Coulson, our team leader.

"Going pretty well, sir," I answered when Ward clicked on the radio. "So far it seems like everything's working right. We should be done in another few minutes."

"That's good to hear," he said. "You two make a good team."

Ward and I looked at each other, and I couldn't help noticing my heart racing just a little faster. He gave me a rare smile, and I turned back to the beaker as I heard it starting to bubble. My face was starting to heat up, and I didn't want something in my body language to tip Ward off to what I was feeling.

"We do make a good team, sir," Ward responded over the radio. I still didn't look at him, but I could feel him staring at me. "Alright Simmons, this beaker looks like something's happening with it. What do we do next?"

"The last thing you need to do is take a dropper of the green liquid and add three drops to the mixture in the beaker," she said.

This time I looked at Ward, a little nervously, then I reached for a dropper and gathered as much of the green liquid as I could. I slowly and carefully squeezed out one drop, and as soon as it hit the mixture in the beaker, the whole thing blew up in my face. Literally.

The liquid from the beaker shot out of the glass like it had been fired from a canon. I jerked back, but I still got a face full of the stuff, and a glance at Ward showed the amber liquid dripping down his face too.

We just stared at each other for a minute in shock, and then Ward spoke up.

"What happened?"

"I have no idea!"

"Is it done?" asked Simmons, coming over the radio.

"No," said Ward. "Y/L/N put a drop in the beaker and the whole thing blew up in our faces."

"Well, something clearly went wrong..." said Simmons.

"How are things looking over there?" asked Coulson, stepping in.

"They're looking fine," said Ward. "The beaker's intact, and so is the lab, but the truth serum is all over the place. It's all over me and Y/N, although Y/N still looks as good as usual."

Ward and I made eye contact and held it, and he looked as confused as I did at what he'd just said. Neither of us wanted to be the first to speak, and finally the radio crackled again.

"What?" came Skye's voice.

"I said Y/N looks good," said Ward. "Like always. Y/N's always looked amazing, even after we've almost been murdered by a gang of mercenaries."

"Y/N?" came Coulson's voice over the radio.

"Ward looks good too. He didn't report out on himself, so I guess I should. Somehow the failed science experiment only makes him look hotter."

I gasped as soon as the words were out and threw both hands over my mouth. Ward was grinning at me now, and he briefly clicked the radio back on.

"Y/N looks hot too."

"I think I know what's happening," said Simmons, her voice coming through the radio again. "I think you might have made a more potent form of the truth serum, and exploded it all over yourselves. You're both under its affects, so you're going to be telling the truth compulsively for at least the next hour."

"I'm a little pissed that that's a real situation you could've avoided by coming back here to make this thing yourself, Agent Simmons," Ward said into the radio.

"I'm glad Ward finally admitted he thinks I'm hot," I added before he could end the transmission.

Ward and I were just staring at each other, hardly paying attention to the radio anymore. It was dead silence from the other end, for a few long, long beats.

"You know what, I think we can handle this interrogation without truth serum," Coulson finally said. "Why don't you two take the rest of this mission off to... work things out."

"I think that would be a good idea," we chorused back. I couldn't help laughing a little, a smile slowly spreading across my face as Ward's face turned into more of a smirk.

Our team said a few more sentences through the radio, but neither of us paid much attention. Ward turned the radio off in the middle of Coulson's sentence, then tossed it onto a nearby lab table.

"So," he started, taking a few steps towards me. "You think I'm hot."

"Yup. It's a fact, and I also like spending time with you. I think we make great partners, and I've been thinking about dating you since we joined the team. How about you?" I asked, trying to get my question in before Ward could say anything else.

"I agree with everything you just said." I grinned as he finished closing the distance between us. He wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me to his chest. "So, since we have the whole Bus to ourselves, how about we have that first date right now?"

"I am so in."

Without wasting another second, Ward pulled me in for a kiss. I ran my hand through his hair and completely lost myself in him, finally able to forget all the horrible, painful experiences we'd had today.

In all my years as a SHIELD agent, an explosion had never had as good a result as this one.

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3pirouette · 4 years ago

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Fic: 40 Weeks (1/1)

Title: 40 Weeks By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: First Avenger, that’s it. Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 4601 Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Rated teen to mature due to content.

Story Summary: Every week farther away from him is a week closer to a new beginning.

A/N: For Steggy Bingo Bash Sentence Prompt: “I have eagerly been awaiting the day I could finally meet you… and I am not disappointed. You are beautiful.” Also, I’m sorry. Set during CA:TFA.

TW: while I hate to give away the plot, this story is about Peggy dealing with an unplanned pregnancy while believing Steve is dead after going down on the Valkyrie. This may be a sensitive subject for many, please read or skip accordingly for your own mental health.

I have never been pregnant. ALl info is from the internet.

Also, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. This made me cry. You’ll probably need tissues.

~*~ Week 0

He’d almost died.

It was all she could think of as she pressed her body into his, their lips meeting with force, battling to be dominant, the air charged with lust and fear and relief as they shed their clothes as quickly as they could.

Every time she closed her eyes she saw it: she saw the way the tank aimed at him, how his shield barely made it up in time to deflect the load from the great barrel, how it exploded and pushed him back in a way he didn’t expect, how he landed near the great rotating treads, shocked, and his head just an inch away from disaster as the tank rolled forward before Dugan slid in and pushed him farther under where the treads could do no damage.

He couldn’t hear her when they finally triumphed, blood slipping from his ear. He looked shocked, dazed. She’d never seen him like that before.

Even small, before the serum, he’d seemed invincible to her. This reminded her that even Captain America could die.

He could hear her now as she moaned his name, his lips slipping against the flesh between her legs, licking and nipping and biting as she fisted her hands in his hair, pulling him up to her. That realization had made her feel lost, broken, and she needed him in a way she’d never needed anyone before. The touch of his hand was too little, the wrapping of his arms around her in a simple hug not enough. She’d slipped them into an empty supply room, locked the door, and pressed him against it. “I won’t let either of us die without knowing what it’s like to love one another.”

He’d held her face in his hands, gentle, and tried to reassure her. “That’s not going to happen. I won’t let that happen.”

She hadn’t argued with him, didn’t have it in her to play devil’s advocate. Instead, she kissed him. Surprising him, it took a moment for him to kiss her back, for him to let them melt together, but slowly his body started to vibrate on the same frequency hers was, it started to pick up on her need and desperation and it left them as they were now, him clutching her shoulders, sliding inside her sloppily as she balanced on the edge of an old desk, her legs wrapped around his hips and her lips marking him at his collar bone.

It was quick and frenzied, sloppy and amateur, but Peggy couldn’t help but feel a little more put together, a little more reassured as they lay on the creaking table, his head pillowed on her breasts, the both of them gasping for breath.

“I love you, Peggy Carter,” Steve whispered, kissing the flesh closest to him, “and I’m never letting you go.”

“And I love you,” she croaked out, her voice raw. She tangled her hands in his sweaty hair, her heart pounding in her chest. “But you and I both know that neither one of us is in control of what happens during this bloody war.”

He pressed up on his arms, hovering over her, his dog tags cold against her skin as he pushed a curl behind her ear. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he kept it to himself. Instead, he kissed her gently. He pulled away softly, his brow furrowing as he looked down at her. “How am I supposed to go back to that lonely tent without you now?”

She let her hands slide over his shoulders. “Needs must, you know,” she whispered, letting him gently help her to sitting. “I suspect my own bed will be quite disappointing.”

Steve bent, kissing her thigh as he picked up their discarded clothing. “Peg, we should…”

“We shouldn’t,” she stopped him as he stood, eyes serious. “if we want to keep working together, no one can know. They’ll toss me out of here in a second and you know that.”

He kissed her gently, handing her her slip. “I hate keeping us a secret.”

“I’d hate even more not knowing if you were alive or dead.”

~*~ Week 3

She hadn’t managed a night’s sleep since he went into the water. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him drowning, saw his hands reaching up for her. Saw his lifeless body floating away.

She wasn’t his widow, she wasn’t his anything, not officially. His belongings were put in storage and his name was mourned. Only the men that knew them best, the ones that saw the snuck kisses and hand holding, gave her any real sympathy.

Dugan sat with her, Pinky said a prayer with her, and Phillips had even hugged her.

There was no body, no funeral, no remembrance beyond that given to any other soldier when there was still so much more work to be done.

She could barely eat, couldn’t sleep, felt sick and tired all the time, and yet, she knew she had to march on.

There was a war to win. She was going to win it for him.

~*~ Week 6

She was shaking, and only partly due to the fact that she’d just thrown up most of what she’d eaten today quite violently. She held the phone to her ear, trying desperately to slow her heart rate.

She didn’t want it to be true, and yet she desperately did.

And if it was, she was absolutely beyond terrified.

There was another long ring before a polite English voice she’d never heard answered.

“I need to talk to Howard, please. Peggy Carter calling.” She was proud that her voice sounded almost steady. Her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest, the seconds it took Howard to get to the phone felt like hours.

“Peggy!” he called, excited. “It’s good to hear from you. How can I be of service?”

She took one shaky breath, then another. She’d never been ashamed of what they did, would never be, but the impact it was going to have on her life, the way it was going to change everyone’s opinion of her… she wasn’t ready for that.

She heard her mother’s voice in her head, criticizing the women at church who work skirts that were too short and who flirted to shamelessly. Harlots, Margaret. Girls like that give smart, determined women like us a bad name. All for what? They should be on their knees for praying, not for…humph!

“Peggy? You there?” Howard asked, his tone softening.

She wasn’t ready to lose them all. She didn’t know how she could avoid it, though.

“Howard. I… I need your help.”

~*~ Week 7

He met her in London, his eyes tight and worried as she disembarked the troop transport with her usual aplomb, not a hint of the desperate woman he’d spoken to on the phone about her. He watched her closely as they got in his car, as he introduced his new butler, as they drove far away from the base and to a small house he’d rented.

She managed to keep her composure through lunch, telling him how she and Steve had shared one moment of unrestrained passion, how neither of them had thought anything could come of it, and how, three weeks after he was pronounced KIA she realized that he’d managed to make sure she’d never be alone, even without him.

Though she hadn’t taken a test, Peggy Carter knew with certainty that she was pregnant with Steve Rogers’ child.

She swallowed, looking at Howard frankly, her eyes clear. “I don’t mind being called a whore or a harlot, that I can take and have brought upon myself as my mother would say,” Peggy quickly relayed. “My job is lost, I’m sure.” She steeled herself, but it didn’t quite work. “But I can’t…” she teared up, wrapping her hands around her still flat belly, “I don’t know how to protect it. The Army… they’ll want…”

She dissolved into tears, sending Howard to his knees beside her. “I’ll help you, Peg. You don’t have anything to worry about.” He took her hand in his, waiting until she wiped the tears from her eyes to look at him. “Nobody’s going to touch that baby, ok? If I have to marry you myself, no one is going to touch that kid.”

~*~ Week 10

The guest house at Howard’s New York home is more than suitable for her, and she takes to wandering it aimlessly as it is quite large.

She resigned her commission, citing personal reasons much to Phillips chagrin.

How am I supposed to win this war without you, Carter? Phillips’s voice echoes in her mind.

Once, she would have bristled at that, would have rethought her decision to leave and felt the pull of duty.

She had only one duty now. It had been easier than she thought it would be to say goodbye.

One day she’d tell them the truth. Phillips, the Commandos, they were her friends, too. She still was barely thicker around the middle than she had been, not enough to show and not enough to be suspicious. But right now, she held the only living genetic sample of Steve Rogers, and there were nations that would kill for that, including her own. For now, she could still hide in plain sight.

Their baby’s safety was all that mattered to her.

She made another round, checking the windows and doors and making sure the gun by her bedside was loaded and ready to go if need be. She’d already pulled it twice on poor Mr. Jarvis, but he seemed to be getting used to her paranoia.

~*~ Week 12

Ana is a godsend.

She’s funny and quick-witted, and thankfully good with a needle and thread. Peggy’s clothes all need letting out at the seams now, and Ana entertains her with silly stories of her day and tales of the farmer’s market in town as she makes alterations.

She’s become her only close friend, and Peggy is ever grateful that not once did she see pity or judgement in the woman’s eyes.

Her mother continues to refuse to speak to her.

~*~ Week 16

Howard has proposed no less than three times since he’s been back from the front.

His simplest solution is to not give the Army any reason to believe the child belongs to Rogers. While Peggy can see the wisdom in this, she can’t quite seem to get on board with the idea of denying the man she loved his only true legacy.

“I’m thinking about it,” she would tell him nearly twice a day.

And she was thinking about it.

~*~ Week 18

She’s glad the doctor Howard has found her is knowledgeable and discrete. She knows, because Howard refuses to lie to her, that they take an extra vial of blood for him at each visit, and he runs his own tests.

She’s relieved that the midwife Ana finds her is sweet and kind, and that the woman simply holds her hand when Peggy breaks into tears when the woman asks about the baby’s father.

“I’m so sorry my love,” the midwife whispers gently. “So many young women have lost so much in this war.”

If her midwife believes her to be anything other than a war widow, or notices the lack of a ring on Peggy’s finger, she never says.

~*~ Week 20

Ana has to take Peggy shopping for maternity clothes now. She’s showing and can no longer get by with letting buttons stay undone and letting out seams. The lacy frocks and pastel colors turn her off of the small section in the department store.

She can’t help but watch the women around her, some barely showing, some looking ready to burst, and wonder what their lives are like.

Do they have doting husbands at home? Indifferent husbands? Men overseas who may never see their child’s birth?

Are they like her? Lost and alone and so very, very unsure of how even tomorrow will go?

Ana gently guides her through the store despite her daze, and helps her choose some sensible tops and dresses.

She doesn’t plan on leaving Howard’s estate other than for doctor visits any time soon, so the design matters little in the long run.

~*~ Week 21

Lying in bed she can feel it.

Little flutters.

They’re easy to ignore during the day, but at night they’re positively maddening. She rubs her stomach, hands gliding over the tightening flesh, closing her eyes and imagining they were Steve’s hands.

Tears come to her eyes.

Would he have been happy? Excited? Scared? She’s imagined each emotion a million times over. She’s never really been able to decide.

Some days she barely knows how she feels about it.

The flutters get more insistent, no real kicks or punches yet, just little backflips. She imagines a little boy, lithe and graceful as his father, or a little girl, smooth like a ballerina.

She smiles.

“Bide your time, little one,” she whispers, and the movement calms down. “You’ll be out here with all of us soon and there will be little time for rest.”

~*~ Week 23

Her days are the same now: mornings to herself to prepare for the day, afternoon tea with Ana and a rousing walk along the grounds with Mr. Jarvis. There’s the occasional doctor appointment or meeting with the midwife thrown in, but dinner is steadily at 7 and she indulges in warm baths and a book before bed.

Lying in bed is when her day turns.

She’s never really quite sure what’s going to happen after she turns the lights out.

Some nights she talks to her baby, having decided on calling him or her simply “My Little One” for the time being. If her child’s restless she knows her voice will calm it: stories, lullabies, or just rambling about her day.

Some nights all she can do is cry. Usually, it’s gentle streams of tears falling from her lashes quietly as her mind drifts to the man who will never know his child, who she imagines never understood how much she loved him, who had plans for a life after the war with her…

Sometimes she sobs; big, heaving sobs that seem to come up from the depths of her soul. This happens often after the nightmares. She has the nightmares less and less, but they’re no less dark, no less graphic for the time that’s passed. She wakes up, gasping, feeling like she’s drowning herself, and lets the tears come.

Some nights she sleeps, deep and dreamless. Those are the good nights, when she can rest and rejuvenate, when she can wake up the next day feeling like she just might be ready for whatever will come next. They’re few and far between.

Most night she simply misses him. She’s started talking to the darkness, telling Steve, who she desperately needs to believe is watching over her and their child, of all she’d done that day, even though she like to think he’s seen. Sometimes she balls up the quilt, imagining the weight of the fabric is his body behind her, wrapped around her, holding her close and keeping her warm, running his hand over the swell in her belly and whispering in her ear as he kisses her neck.

She whispers into the night, wondering what she should name their Little One.

She doesn’t get an answer back.

~*~ Week 25

Peggy’s indigestion keeps her from enjoying dinner more nights than not, and it has both the Jarvises and Howard worried.

Peggy reminds Howard that he should be less worried about her indigestion and more worried that if he asks her to marry him one more time she will literally punch him. He opens his mouth to make the proposal, but stops when she simply raises her eyebrows at him, the challenge clear.

The midwife tells them all it’s perfectly normal, and stays with Peggy to talk about where she wants to give birth.

Peggy and Howard both agree the main house will be the safest, and neither is willing to risk a hospital.

By the end of the week, Howard has one of the downstairs wings converted to a hospital wing: a birthing room and a fully equipped surgery ready and waiting.

~*~ Week 27

“Howard says he’s officially put me on the payroll as a security consultant.” Peggy sighs into the darkness. “I asked him what that means and he said it just means I don’t need to worry about anything ever again.”

She rubs her belly, looking up to the ceiling. “For what it’s worth, I almost punched him again. He still has a bit of a bruise from the last time he proposed.” She chuckles. “But he did promise that when I was ready, he thought Stark Industries could use someone like me, and that my pay was merely a retainer fee.”

She turns on her side, pulling the quilt up around her shoulders. “Nearly two-thirds the way there, my love.” She squeezes her eyes shut, pretending his arms are wound around her. “Ana wanted to throw me a baby shower, but I couldn’t think of anyone to invite. We’re going to go shopping for the bassinet and such tomorrow, instead. She and Mr. Jarvis have already bought me more than enough bottles and diapers to last well until the Little One is walking.”

Her voice cracks, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “I can’t believe you won’t be here for this.”

~*~ Week 30

She doesn’t fit into her bras anymore, and Ana has never been more of a godsend. The woman brings her a bag full of options from the department store and sits with her, chatting calmly as she sews little cotton pads to go in them while Peggy sniffles, unprepared for the leaking and the soreness that’s accompanied this new stage in her pregnancy.

Even when feeling her lowest, with washcloths stuffed in her slip and her face red after bidding Ana a soft farewell, the back of her mind tells her that Steve would have gathered her in his arms and held her close, telling her she was beautiful and amazing and carrying a new life.

She wraps her arms around herself, weeping, and sinks to the floor, crying for all she’s lost and the things her child will never know.

~*~ Week 32

Her mother still refuses to speak with her, and she’s resorted to letters.

She hasn’t said who the baby’s father is, or that there is a good chance her grandchild will be the genetic carrier of an abundance of useful information that could cure disease or lead to another generation of super soldiers.

She mails what she tells herself is the last letter, the contents telling her mother that, should she care to know, Peggy has found a wonderful group of friends that will make sure her and her baby are protected and cared for no matter what happens.

Peggy sits, staring out the window of her guest house, rubbing her belly and thinks it’s a shame that the baby won’t have a grandmother to bake it cookies.

She laughs when she realizes Mr. Jarvis can fill that role very well, and that his cookies are far better than anything her mother managed to cook from scratch.

~*~ Week 35

She wakes up the whole household at three in the morning, convinced she’s having the baby too early.

Jarvis resorts to making tea and a full English Breakfast despite the time.

Ana holds her hand tightly, sitting by her bedside in the birthing room in the mansion as they wait for the midwife.

Howard paces a rut in the floor outside her room, smoking like a chimney and muttering to himself.

“Braxton Hicks,” the midwife tells her cheerfully despite the ungodly hour. “That baby isn’t quite ready to come out, yet.”

Ana sits with her for hours after the midwife leaves, never letting go of her hand.

~*~ Week 37

She sits with a list of names. She tries to imagine his reaction to each of them, but can’t.

Howard has become insistent that she put him down as the father, he notes that it won’t spoil his reputation any and that him as the legal father will afford the baby a comfortable life and there will be far fewer questions.

She thanks him, then threatens to punch him.

She’s already decided that the father’s name on the birth certificate will stay blank. Better no father than the wrong man, she thinks.

The baby will have her last name.

The rest, she hopes, will come in the next three weeks.

~*~ Week 38

She paces the halls of the big house through the night. Howard and Jarvis, much to her and Ana’s amusement and chagrin, have become insistent on her staying in the mansion. They want her close as the big day nears.

She tries to picture what Steve would be like, tries to guess which pieces of her friends he’d put together: Jarvis’ anxiety and preparation, Howard’s determination and excitement…

Steve was always a very tactile person, and she misses every hug and touch she knows he’d have given her. She can feel them burning on her skin in their absence.

The Little One is active and low, ready to come any day now.

What was once fear and confusion is starting to transform in her belly into excitement.

~*~ Week 39

“Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy calls from the hallway just after dinner on a quiet Tuesday, “I’m afraid I’ve made a bit of a mess.”

He moves out of the kitchen, his usual placations ready to spill from his lips until he sees the sight of her: puddle below her, legs dripping, one hand gripping her belly and one holding the sideboard to keep her standing.

Peggy thinks, as she watches Jarvis and Howard turn into tornados of commotion around her, that perhaps Steve would have been the calm one. He always did manage to have his head about him in a battle. Jarvis is slipping in her mess as he tries to get her over it without incident, Howard is on the phone, yelling incoherent sentences at the midwife.

Ana, thankfully, takes her hand and helps her leave them behind, guiding her back to the birthing room that had become her bedroom for the last few days.

Yes, she imagines, as Ana helps her into a dry nightgown and pull her hair back, he would be calm and certain, slow and deliberate, making sure she had everything she needed. Ana’s helping her into the bed as the midwife arrives, and like before the woman stays by her side, talking softly as the midwife examines her and declares that they’ll have a baby sooner rather than later.

Peggy thinks it might be the pain, but as she’s enduring the worst of the contractions, she swears she can hear his voice in her ear, telling her to keep going, that she’s strong, that she doesn’t need him, or anyone, to do this.

When they sit her up to push, she imagines it is Steve’s strong form behind her, not pillows and a bedframe holding her up as she yells with each effort, the midwife between her legs and Ana at her side.

When the baby slips from her body she imagines he catches her as she falls back, limp, his strong arms holding her up, his lips at her ear, his cheek next to hers.

But when the midwife hands her the baby, swaddled tight and eyes opening gently, any ghost of Steve is gone. Her heart pounding in her chest, she hears the words over and over in the back of her mind, and she’s wondering if it is him, if he was with her. If he’s left her this gift and this knowledge.

You can do this.

“A little boy,” the midwife says as she hands Peggy her son. He squeals a bit, lets out a soft cry, then settles, opening his eyes.

Peggy smiles at him, eyes filled with tears. She presses the blanket back from his chin, taking in the radiant blue of his eyes, the tiny eyelashes that surround them, the strong set of his still barely there jaw.

She knows, one day, there will be no question about his parentage.

She presses a soft kiss to his head, cradling him close as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a cry, her heart more full of love than she could have ever imagined. She can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying as she speaks. “I have eagerly been awaiting the day I could finally meet you… and I am not disappointed. You are beautiful.”

She gazes at her son as the midwife finishes her work, feeling but not registering the passing of the afterbirth and the older woman’s gentle washing of her legs and thighs. Ana gently cleans the child as she holds him, unable to look away. Finally, the midwife sits by her side, papers in her hands. “I’ve filled out everything else. All that’s left is his name.”

Peggy gulps, hard, undecided for a moment, but his eyes gaze up at her and she knows. “Michael Steven Carter.” She expects tears when she says it, but they don’t come, and that’s how she knows she’s made the right decision. “For two important men that I wish he could have known.”

The midwife sets a caring hand on her arm as Ana turns away, sniffing. “A beautiful memorial.” The older woman fills out the paper and leaves it at Peggy’s bedside. “I can bathe him for you, if you like?”

“No, I don’t think I can bear to let go just yet,” she whispers, still in awe of the small movements he’s making. Each stretch, each wiggle she can almost feel coinciding to a movement she felt from the outside. To have him in her arms is a blessing she won’t overlook.

“Then perhaps we should try feeding him?”

Peggy nods, smiling up at the woman. “Please.”

~*~ Week 40

She stares at him, asleep in his little bassinet. He’ll be waking soon, she can tell from how swollen and tight she feels that he’s due for another feeding, even if she hadn’t looked at the clock.

When she woke, she could have sworn that she saw Steve standing over the bassinet, his form strong and stoic in the moonlight.

She blinked, and he was gone.

Peggy didn’t have time for fantasies of lost loves any longer. She still wondered at how Steve might react, what he’d say, but she’d been too busy to wonder too much, or miss him too deeply.

Michael was her whole world right now, and keeping him safe was her first, and only, job. Howard said it was for too early to know if he’d exhibit any of the traits his father had been endowed with, but any and all tests they’d run showed that he was a healthy, normal little boy.

She still hadn’t figured out how she’d tell him about his father, or what they’d do if he was stronger and faster than all his peers as he grew, but every time it popped through her mind she reminded herself that was a problem for years down the line.

Tonight, when she held him tight to her breast, she could tell him unedited stories of the bravery of his father, knowing that the boy would never remember her words.

Tonight was all that mattered.

Tonight, and her beautiful boy in her arms.

#Steggybingobash #Steggy Fic #Angst #tissue warning #3P's Fic

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epicstuckyficrecs · 5 years ago

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Weekly Recap | February 24-March 1

Complete

💙 Like the Tide by Deisderium/ @deisderium (Canon divergent, Post-Avengers | 54K | Explicit): In which Steve and Bucky never met, and Steve was always a USO performer instead of an actual supersoldier. The serum keeps Steve alive in the ice, but he wakes up the size he used to be in the 1930s, albeit healthier. Hydra sends the Soldier to kill Captain America, but somehow the Soldier can’t make himself do it. Suddenly Steve is stuck with an assassin who can’t quite kill him but refuses to leave him alone and the knowledge that Hydra is still out there somewhere.

Tinfoil Hat (or Bucky Barnes Vs. The Pigeon Uprising) by GoodbyeBlues (Modern AU | 3,7K | Teen): Based on the Tumblr prompt 'I went to water my plants on the balcony and you're on yours with a tinfoil hat, what the hell are you doing?'

💙 there’s a light at the crack that’s separating your thighs by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (Werewolf Steve | 26K | Explicit): Three times Steve and Bucky almost get caught having sex, and the one time the Avengers walk in on them. (sequel to happily ever after has bite marks in it)

WIP

💙 A Company Man by mambo/ @whtaft (Modern AU | 15/16 | 70K | Explicit): No matter what it is, the truth is the same: Steve Rogers is in love with Bucky Barnes, a married man.

Paradise Lost (& Found) by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Modern AU | 27/? | 60K | Mature): Meeting at a tropical resort AU where Steve is there on a 2-week honeymoon package after his fiancee left him at the altar, and Bucky is there for his sister’s destination wedding but doesn’t have a room because there was a mix up with the reservations in the system.

Re-read

💙 I Get Sentimental When You Hold Me Tight by fiasco_sauce (Post-WS, ABO AU | 4,3K | Teen): The growl started as soon as Steve stepped through the cell door.Steve was barefoot and empty-handed, dressed only in sweatpants and a tank top. He spun in a slow circle to show there were no weapons tucked into his waistband or hidden at the small of his back. No threat, his lowered gaze and open palms said.It was a lie, and the other man in the room knew it. Steve’s body was weapon enough. (Part 1 of It's Just the Nearness of You)

💙 I Get Misty Just Holding Your Hand by fiasco_sauce (Post-WS, ABO AU | 4,7K | Teen): “You shouldn’t be here,” he says, and the omega’s face goes blank and shocked, like he’s been sucker-punched. That is wrong, that is very wrong. The omega sits back and takes his warm safe arms away, and that is awful. (Part 2 of It's Just the Nearness of You)

💙 Places left behind by Claudia_flies/ @claudia-flies (Post-WS, ABO AU | 7K | Explicit): As Steve approaches the door of the walk-in closet, there’s a sudden growl. It’s low and defensive, and Steve freezes. He’s only wearing a towel, he suddenly realizes stupidly.“Jarvis?” he calls out.“Yes, sir?” comes the clipped voice of the A.I over the comms system.“Is there someone in the closet?”

💙 Season of all things by Claudia_flies/ @claudia-flies (ABO AU | 26K | Explicit): Steve really isn’t sure about sharing with an Alpha but he is starting to run out of options. There are only six Omega boarding houses in the city and Steve has been kicked out of four of them.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec #weekly recap

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febuwhump · 4 years ago

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FEBUWHUMP 2021 PROMPTS

the prompt list is out! these prompts were chosen entirely from a poll that you guys filled out! the 28 days of february are filled (in a random order) with the top 28 prompts as voted for by you guys! the 10 switch outs are the next in your favourites, with a few write-in prompts too!

i look forward to seeing everyone create with these prompts, and if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to check out the blog’s FAQ and ask!

full write up of prompts and rules under the cut:

FEBUWHUMP 2021 PROMPTS

DAY 1: mind control

DAY 2: “i can’t take this anymore”

DAY 3: imprisonment

DAY 4: impaling

DAY 5: “take me instead”

DAY 6: insomnia

DAY 7: poisoning

DAY 8: “hey, hey, this is no time to sleep”

DAY 9: buried alive

DAY 10: “i’m sorry. i didn’t know”

DAY 11: hallucinations

DAY 12: “who are you?”

DAY 13: hiding injury

DAY 14: “i didn’t mean it”

DAY 15: “run. don’t look back”

DAY 16: broken bones

DAY 17: field surgery

DAY 18: “i can’t see”

DAY 19: sleep deprivation

DAY 20: betrayal

DAY 21: torture

DAY 22: burned

DAY 23: “don’t look”

DAY 24: memory loss

DAY 25: car accident

DAY 26: recovery

DAY 27: “i wish i had never given you a chance”

DAY 28: “you have to let me go”

SWITCH-OUT PROMPTS:

is there a specific day’s prompt you don’t want to fill? here are ten alternatives you can switch them out for!

ALT 1: truth serum

ALT 2: “i can’t lose you too”

ALT 3: coma

ALT 4: identity reveal

ALT 5: hostage situation

ALT 6: “don’t try to pin this on me”

ALT 7: time travel

ALT 8: allergies

ALT 9: gunpoint

ALT 10: “please come back”

RULES:

SOFT RULES:

prompts should be answered in the form of whump

creators can produce whatever kind of media they want

you don’t have to do all the prompts! you can create however much you want to

you can use the prompts after the event ends

you can post on any platform you want, however this blog will only be sharing those posted on tumblr

if you want to be featured on the hall of fame then you have until the 3rd of March to inform this blog that you completed all the days

HARD RULES: (specifically for being featured on the blog)

when uploading febuwhump content to tumblr, please use the tags:

febuwhump (i’ll also be checking febuwhump2021)

the relevant day’s tag e.g. febuwhumpday1, febuwhumpday2...

nsfw (if relevant)

and any trigger warnings that may be important!

you can also tag the blog, @febuwhump

i cannot guarantee your work will be archived on the blog because I have no idea how many participants there will be. a random selection of works tagged in accordance to the rules above will be reblogged every day of february.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #whump #prompts

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yearoftheotpevent · 2 years ago

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AO3 collection + FAQ Prompt List 2023 - alt text under the cut

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

#YOTP 2023 #Year of the OTP #writing event #art event #ao3 stuff

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dyslexicsquirrel · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Captain America (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes, James Rhodes, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Pepper Potts, Carol Danvers, Happy Hogan Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, Schmoop Summary: Tony Stark hated jocks… or he had until the new kid transferred to their school.

Stony Bingo 2019 round 2 (square S1) Prompt: stretching

Tony Stark hated jocks. It’s a truth universally accepted at their school. Everyone knows not to ask him to go to pep rallies or football games or donate to the Get Insert Sports Team New Uniforms fund. He’ll laugh at you and go back to doing something more important, which is anything other than that.

Tony Stark hated jocks… or he had until the new kid transferred to their school. His step brother was another matter. “Bucky” Barnes was a rude, sarcastic guy and this school only had room for one of those and Tony was already filling that spot, thanks. But Steven Grant Rogers? (He might have had his friend Pepper who volunteered in the principal's office find out his name) Well, he was another story.

Steve (that’s what everyone called him Tony had found out) was the kind of blonde and blue eyed that should have been boring, but he somehow made the most attractive thing Tony had seen in, well, ever. He was tall and built in a way that usually put him off (read: hates jocks), but Tony kept finding his eyes drifting to him whenever they were in the same room.

He played football, was the damn quarterback, for Christ’s sake, but none of that seemed to matter. Tony wasn’t sure who he was anymore.

On top of being stupidly good looking? Steve was also a genuinely nice guy. He wasn’t mean to anyone, stuck up for the kids who got picked on, in fact. He said hello to people in the halls, had a laugh that was infectious, and a smile that brightens a room (and since when did he spout flowery crap like that?). There had to be something wrong with him; Tony was convinced.

“Why are you so determined to find a flaw in this guy?” Pepper had asked him a few days ago and Tony hadn’t been able to answer her.

“Because he doesn’t want to be attracted to a meathead,” Rhodey has piped up from the other side of the table at lunch.

“Don’t call him that,” Tony had automatically defended and then wanted to smack himself when Rhodey smirked and Pepper blinked at him. “Oh, just shut up both of you,” he’d snapped and left the cafeteria.

So, Tony May have ended up spending the last couple days <strike>spying</strike> investigating Steve Rogers to find out what was wrong with him. The only problem was that Tony 1) hadn’t found any hidden flaws (he really seemed to be a hot, nice guy who just happened to be a jock) and 2) he saw Steve stretching before practice yesterday.

Blame stupid, teenage hormones maybe (he might be a genius, but he was still a high school senior), but Tony’s brain short circuited. He’d been walking past the practice field, ostensibly on his way to somewhere else, reading a book for cover, when he glanced up and there was Steve, bent over, touching his toes.

The guy had a really nice ass. And in those stupid, tight football pants he was only now starting to appreciate? Well… yeah. He might have become a tad obsessed.

He watched all the scheduled practices (covertly) and he might have (not on purpose) found out what days Steve came to school early to work out and he might have, (once—accidentally) ended up at a football game with Pepper, who was dating some kid in marching band named Happy.

“Why don’t you just talk to him, Tony?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he told her, pretending to read so no one would notice him watching the game. Pepper had scoffed, but let it drop and ignored him the rest of the night. Tony had not watched Steve throw around a stupid ball in those. Damn. Pants.

Tony thought he’d been so smooth and stealthy, but if he had been Steve wouldn’t have just walked up behind him and said, “Hey,” now would he? Tony squeaked, and if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, slammed into his locker when he turned around.

“Are you okay?”

“I,” Tony started, but had to clear his throat. “I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Steve was still frowning at Tony with his perfect face, looking at him with concerned blue eyes.

He stood up straighter, pushing his shoulders back. And because he was feeling unnerved what came out of his mouth next was a snarky, “Can I help you?”

Steve blinked at him, tugging on the straps of his backpack. “Well, actually.” He started blushing. Every higher power save me, Tony thought because the guy was legit blushing. “I was wondering if you had a date for prom.”

“What now?” That sentence didn’t make sense.

“Prom. Uh, are you going? I mean, would you like to go. With me.”

“You’re asking me to prom?”

“Yes.”

“You’re asking me to prom?”

“Yes,” Steve said again, now sounding uncertain and Tony didn’t blame him.

“Why?” The question shot out of his mouth with no authorization from his higher brain function.

“Because,” Steve struggled to answer and Tony felt his shoulder start to slump. This was some pity thing or a joke and he felt stupid for even one second thinking Steve would like him, but guess what? He didn’t need Steve’s pity or him to like him. But thenSteve said, “Because you’re smart.” His head jerked up, eyes finding Steve’s. He looked so earnest. “And you’re cute.” Steve thought he was cute. “And, uh, also because my brother said you’ve been checking me out so I figured I had a shot.”

Stupid Bucky. And stupid him for thinking he had been so secretive about it. Tony rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, but he admitted, “I might have. Once or twice.” He bit his lip. “You really think I’m smart?”

“Tony,” Steve huffed, chuckling. “You’re like the smartest kid in school. Of course, I think you’re smart.”

“And cute?” He started to smile and took a step closer so they almost touched.

“Yeah.” Steve’s hands tightened around his backpack strap.

Tony grinned, reaching out to grip Steve’s letterman jacket. “Okay, I’ll go to prom with you.”

And that was how Tony Stark, hater of jocks, ended up dating the quarterback of the football team. Prom was a big group affair. Pepper and Happy, Rhodey and Carol, Bucky and his boyfriend from his old school Sam (who drove two hours to get there—Tony was impressed by his dedication). They all met at his house and piled in a limo after his mom took a million pictures and his dad told them to make sure to be back on time so he didn’t have to pay the driver overtime. Steve bought Tony a corsage, not a boutineer, and it was perfect. They danced and laughed with their friends and maybe, Tony would admit to himself, Bucky wasn’t really that bad. And if Tony and Steve snuck off to make out in a coat closet, well, what the chaperones didn’t find out wouldn’t hurt them.

The last year of high school was so different from the previous three and not just because he was wearing his boyfriend’s letterman jacket, his boyfriend who happened to be a jock. He was happy in a way he couldn’t remember being before. It wasn’t all Steve, a relationship hadn’t suddenly fixed all his problems, but he definitely helped. Steve still blushed when Tony kissed him in the halls and it was just too cute.

Tony was going to MIT in the fall and Steve got a full ride to Boston College cause sports. They’d only be like four miles away from each other (Tony might have Googled that).

They were sitting in the bed of Steve’s pick up one night, Tony cradled between Steve’s arms and legs, his back against Steve’s chest. “I was thinking…”

“Hmm?” Tony prompted when Steve trailed off and didn’t pick back up.

Steve propped his chin on Tony’s shoulder. “I was thinking that maybe, at some point, we could move in together.”

Tony shifted around until he could see Steve’s face. “What?”

“In Boston.” Steve hesitated, biting at his bottom lip. “Not right away, but eventually. Maybe. If you wanted.”

Tony turned until he was on his knees and looped his arms around Steve’s neck. He kissed him, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. When he pulled back it was just enough to speak, keeping his tone light and teasing. “You’re asking me to move in with you.”

Steve did smile or joke back. He looked Tony dead in the eye and said, “I love you.”

Tony blinked at Steve for a moment then leaned back and smacked him on his chest. Steve looked at him with wounded eyes, hand pressed to the spot Tony had smacked even though it couldn’t have hurt because Tony barely tapped him, but Tony felt a goofy smile trying to break through the frown he tried to keep up to make a point. “You’re telling me this now?”

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s not exactly that romantic m. We’re sitting in your truck which is parked in my parent’s driveway and my mom is probably watching us from the window.” Tony gestured to said window and there was a tell tale flutter of a curtain.

“Anywhere with you is romantic, babe,” Steve declared, hands coming to rest on Tony’s hips under the letterman jacket which Tony was wearing even though it was summer and it was hot. He didn’t like taking it off cause it was Steve’s and they couldn’t be together 24/7 for practical reasons.

“That’s nice, but this means I can’t kiss you the way I want.” Tony poured and let himself be pulled in to Steve’s chest and wrapped in Steve’s arms. “I love you, too,” he said softly into Steve’s neck.

They sat like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, but of course Tony couldn’t just let it rest. He sat up. “And of course I’ll move in with you. Maybe sophomore or junior year. I want to take advantage of that meal plan my parents are going to buy me—”

Tony broke off with a shout when Steve started tickling him and he ended up flat on his back, panting laughs, with Steve braced above him. Steve nipped at his lower lip. “Your mom can’t see us now.”

“Give it a few minutes,” Tony said rolling his eyes. “She’ll come out to check on us because she probably think we’re having sex and the neighbors will be so scandalizes.”

There wasn’t a lot of light out here, but Tony knew that Steve was blushing. He huffed a laugh, pressing their foreheads together. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

So Tony did.

#stonybingo #cap-ironman bingo fill #stony fic #stony #stevetony #high school au

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phoenixyfriend · 6 years ago

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For the soulmate prompts, can I get 15: the one where every lie your soulmate tells you appears on your skin, for Gil/Agatha/Tarvek?

soulmate au prompts.

15. the one where every lie your soulmate tells you appears on your skin.

Somewhere out there, a world exists.

It’s a world where Klaus noticed that Tarvek and Gil were soulmates, and used this. It’s a world where he told Gil his parentage and then asked for help gathering information. It’s a world where Aaronev’s crimes were exposed decades ahead of the world we know.

This is not that world.

Agatha and Gil do not lie to each other at first.

They are truthful and they are… well, they’re rude. Agatha is angry over her teacher, and Gil sees no point in lying to her. The one lie that might have sat between them is Von Zinzer not being a spark, but they clear that up fast. Even when they start getting along better, they don’t lie, because there’s no reason to.

They don’t lie, so they don’t figure it out.

Agatha’s skin crawls from the moment she meets Tarvek.

Every word that drops from his mouth is a lie, and she can feel every word being written into her skin, hidden beneath her dress and gloves.

She doesn’t introduce herself, lets the footman do it for her. She doesn’t say much beyond small compliments and questions. She doesn’t lie, or say much at all.

The first time she lies, it’s to his father.

Then they give her truth serum.

Agatha wakes up half-naked and strapped to a table.

She wakes to an argument.

“Just because you think she’s your soulmate!”

“Those are all words I said earlier tonight, Anevka! We can use that!”

“Oh please, you’re just being a hopeless romantic!” Anevka argues. “Or is this going to be like Paris, where you almost ruined the entire operation because you couldn’t lie to Wulfenbach–”

“We could have saved you if I had!”

“EXCUSE ME!” Agatha shouts.

They fall silent and turn to her. Anevka’s expression is as blank as ever, and Tarvek is… well, he looks torn. Very torn.

“I’d like some clothes, please,” she grits out. “And to not be strapped to a table.”

The siblings stare at each other, a silent conversation that Agatha doesn’t actually understand.

“I want her voice,” Anevka says.

“No torture,” Tarvek says.

Anevka stares at him as one would at a particularly obstructive bureaucrat. “Fine.”

“Can I please be unstrapped?!”

Tarvek slips past Anevka and fiddles with Agatha’s restraints.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. There is no prickle of new words. “I’ll keep her from hurting you, but the risk is too high to stop her. Just play along, please.”

No new words. Truth.

Agatha rubs her wrists, glaring at him.

“Just get angry,” he tells her.

“I hate you,” she says. She doesn’t, but it’s a close thing, and he stiffens as the words dig into him.

“I’ll… I’ll get you out safe.”

(He doesn’t.)

The Geisters complicate things.

Anevka’s on the run, Agatha’s possessed, and Tarvek does’t know what to do.

“It’s an honor to be in your presence,” he says, and hopes she’ll laugh off the lies in favor of basking in the flattery.

Lucrezia doesn’t even notice. She’s half-naked, admiring herself in the mirror, and laughing.

“Oh, you told my daughter so many lies to get her here, didn’t you? She must have been a fine actress to pretend she hadn’t noticed,” Lucrezia croons. “Thankfully they’ll fade in time. I want to enjoy this body.”

“I… certainly hope you do,” Tarvek says.

The words don’t show up. The words don’t show up.

(He isn’t lying to Agatha. He’s lying to Lucrezia. That must be why.)

“And then, we can have some fun, hm?” Lucrezia says, coming closer and patting him on the cheek. “I’ll be careful, promise.”

The words etch themselves into Tarvek’s leg.

(It’s not Agatha but it’s still her mouth. Why does it matter one way but not the other?)

“And my, you really are happy to see me, if your words aren’t showing up!” Lucrezia croons. “I suppose that means you’re my new soulmate, and not my daughter’s? The body did know who it was going to belong to.”

(It didn’t it didn’t she’s wrong.)

“You can’t pin all the blame on me,” Tarvek says, meeting Anevka’s eyes. “He’ll know.”

“I can kill you,” Anevka says, but her heart isn’t in it.

“And then they’ll investigate you, and that won’t work either,” Tarvek says. It’s a gamble it’s a gamble it’s a gamble but she’s all he has left and if she thinks she can kill him or sell him out and still get her way, he’ll have to shut her down, and– “Because you’re already dead.”

“…what?”

He explains. He tells her everything, and–

He can trust Gil, he can. They wouldn’t be soulmates if he couldn’t, and as much as they’d annoyed each other in Paris, it had ended positively for a reason. Soulmate bonds and not being able to lie meant mended bridges.

He doesn’t trust the Baron, he never has, but he can trust Gil, can’t he?

His options are to turn over everything that might be Lucrezia, or to try to play along and… and…

He’s so tired.

“Fine,” Anevka says, and her voice is like Agatha’s but still just too metallic. “How are you planning to get out of this?”

Lucrezia jumps out of the shadows, and Anevka forces the Geisterdamen to sleep, and Tarvek gets down in time to take out Lucrezia.

He meets Anevka’s eyes, and remembers that he still has an ace in the hole.

“So, how are you planning to get out of this?” Anevka repeats.

“I’m…” Tarvek says, and then gulps. He pulls a dingbot from a pocket and winds it up, lets it start humming for Agatha, lets it start building others to do the same. He turns to Anevka again. “I’m… going to trust Gil, I think.”

Anevka blinks at him. “Prove that I’m dead.”

“What?”

“Prove it.”

He pulls her cables, and she turns to stare down at them with as little emotion as she ever shows.

“…I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” Tarvek says.

“That doesn’t make it better,” Anevka tells him.

Agatha wakes up long enough for Tarvek to explain the plan, and insists on going out to meet people herself. She doesn’t trust him or Anevka, and that’s more than fair. It still makes him antsy, because even with all the scavenged clanks and the scrubbed-clean message (Gil would kill him if he implicated Klaus, and Tarvek isn’t ready for that much conflict again), with all the humming dingbots and citywide music, they fear Lucrezia.

Gil looks at Agatha like she’s a ghost, ignoring the horde of singing clanks at her feet, clanks that had started humming at full volume as soon as the bomb had taken out the message.

“She’s possessed,” Tarvek blurts out.

Agatha points at Gil, wavering unsteadily. “I don’t like you.”

“She’s also very high on stimulants,” Tarvek adds. “The possession’s more important, though, the humming is the only thing that’s stopping it so far.”

The Baron strides closer, looming, and says, “Explain.”

So Tarvek does.

Anevka adds things, here and there. She’s planning something new, Tarvek’s sure of it, but he doesn’t know what. He’ll deal with it later, maybe.

Gil drifts closer to Agatha, eyes wide, and Tarvek steals glances when he can.

The Baron pulls something from a chest pocket and hishandsarearoundherneckohgodohnohe’sgoingto oh. There’s a locket around Agatha’s neck.

She sways. “Oh. She’s… gone.”

“Stifled,” the Baron rumbles. “I suspected as much. It’s not permanent.”

“But–”

“You will all be coming with me,” he interrupts. “Miss Heterodyne, Prince and Princess Sturmvoraus, and if anyone else makes trouble, they’ll be coming too.”

Gil shifts closer to Agatha again.

“What do you want?” She snaps.

Gil pulls back a sleeve, where the words “I don’t like you” are printed in a script that definitely isn’t Tarvek’s.

Agatha stares at it, and then up at Gil. She looks at the words again, and then Tarvek, and then the sky. “I haven’t had enough sleep for this to be funny.”

The Baron puts a hand to his face and groans. “Everyone on the airship. I have an entire city to quarantine, and so help me, Sturmvoraus, you will be undoing the damage your father did.”

“…yes, Herr Baron,” Tarvek says through gritted teeth. He’s not going to piss off Gil’s dad right after the man saved Agatha’s mind, he’s not.

“Agatha!” The shout comes from a little further away, and a girl with green hair, one of the ones from the circus, jumps right over one of the wagons.

Then the Baron is shouting, and the girl is shouting, and everyone is very confused, and Agatha is sagging against Tarvek’s side, and he feels a little like sagging himself, too.

Gil steps closer and puts himself where Tarvek can lean against him, and then there’s a hand on Tarvek’s chin and, oh, kissing.

“You are such a disaster,” Gil mutters, resting the side of his face against Tarvek’s hair. “Can’t believe you need me to get you out of trouble again.”

Tarvek leans into him, and Agatha’s watching them, but he can’t bring himself to care for the moment. Anevka’s watching too, but he’s actively trying not to think about that part.

“Got myself out,” Tarvek muttered. “Just need you there so your father doesn’t toss me in jail.”

“Sounds like keeping you out of trouble to me.”

“Different from getting me out.”

“Shut up,” Gil says. “You need sleep.”

“Not until there’s a bed,” Tarvek says.

The Baron comes marching back, the green-haired girl following along behind him, now looking somewhat disoriented. He pauses, looks at Gil for a few long and unnerving seconds, and then shakes his head and sighs. “She’s coming with us as well.”

“Because she caused trouble?” Gil guesses.

“Because she’s your sister.”

“WHAT?!”

#GG OT3 #Gilgamesh Wulfenbach #Tarvek Sturmvoraus #Agatha Heterodyne #Anevka Sturmvoraus #Lucrezia Mongfish #Klaus Wulfenbach #Zeetha Daughter of Chump #Zeetha Wulfenbach #soulmate au #mini fic #phoenix files #spazzcat #long post

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the--blackdahlia · 6 years ago

Text

Dean Enchanted (Prompt Truth Serum/Potion)

Title: Dean Enchanted

Summary: Prompt for @badthingshappenbingo “Truth Potion/Serum”. Dean goes to a bar, like he always does, but this one is different.

Warnings: Hurt Sam, Hurt Dean, no happy ending

AN: This was requested by an anon. Anyone else have any requests?

Dean wasn’t sure when it happened. He had been at the bar, annoyed with Sam, but that was nothing new. He was hustling pool, talking up a cute girl, doing his thing. Hell, a couple drinks in and he even felt brave enough to do some karaoke with said cute girl. He wasn’t drunk, but he sure didn’t have a care in the world. She didn’t want to leave with him, which he didn’t really blame her. Sam was back at the motel and he knew that the chances of him kicking his dumb brother out. Instead, she leaned over and whispered something in his ear that he wouldn’t remember in the morning.

Damn, that’s where it must have went wrong.

“Dude, get up.” Sam grumbled at his brother the next day. “It’s almost noon.”

“Shut up Sam.” Dean groaned.

“Where did you even go last night?” Sam asked. “You didn’t bring anybody back.”

“I went to the bar to get away from your annoying ass.” Dean said as casual as asking Sam if he wanted hashbrowns from McDonalds for breakfast. He looked up at Sam, who was sitting on his own bed with his mouth hanging out. “I don’t know why I said that.” Sam’s mouth snapped shut and he marched his way over to the bathroom, loudly slamming the door.

Dean set up, running a hand down his face. Why had he just said that to Sam? Yeah, it was in the back in his mind, but he usually didn’t voice things like that unless they were fighting. Which they hadn’t been, Sam was just slightly annoying him.

“Sam, come on man. I totally meant it but not in a mean way.” Dean said, standing at the bathroom door a few minutes later. “I mean, shit.” Sam opened the door, glaring down at his brother.

“What the hell Dean?” Sam asked. “What happened to you last night?”

“I don’t know!” Dean defended, throwing his hands up in the air. “Why do I always have to come up with the answers to our problems?!” Sam raised his hands.

“Calm down man.” Sam said softly. “We’re going to figure this out.”

“Easy for you to say Mr. I Went to College.” Dean grumbled. Sam just stared at Dean before shaking his head. He wasn’t going to let things get to him. There was something seriously wrong with his brother and he needed to figure this out.

“Okay, where did you go last night?” Sam asked. Dean set there thinking for a moment before he shrugged. He couldn’t remember the name of the bar for the life of him. He was sure that it wasn’t far from the motel they were staying at, and he knew he would know it if he saw it again, but he couldn’t think of the name. Sam sighed and grabbed his jacket.

“Come on.” Sam said to Dean. “We’re going to try to retrace your steps.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah good idea Sammy.” Dean said, pulling on his clothes and boots. Sam couldn’t help but smile at Dean giving him a compliment. He was expecting whatever was going on with his brother to make him snip at him for taking control or something. Instead, Dean willingly went along with Sam’s plan. They headed out to the Impala. Sam drove so Dean could look.

But almost an hour later, Dean still couldn’t find the bar.

“Dude, it’s hours to the next town.” Sam explained to Dean, looking around. “So you couldn’t have gone out to another town to go to a bar…”

“Sam, I’m telling the truth. I have no idea where it is. I thought it was around here.” Dean groaned. He looked out the window. “Wait! Sam here!” Sam pulled the car to the curb and looked out the window.

“Dean, this place is abandoned.” Sam said.

“I swear there was a bar there last night.” Dean said, climbing out of the car. Sam followed him, looking at the boarded up windows and dirt all over the building. “Sam, I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were.” Sam said.

“There is something here.” Dean said, heading towards the door.

“Uh, Dean, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Sam warned his brother.

“And drinking demon blood wasn’t a good idea Sam.” Dean snapped at his brother. Sam glared at him.

“Fine. Go ahead.” SAm said, waving Dean to go inside the building.

“Sam…” Dean said, realizing what he had said. Sam just walked past him and pushed the door open to the empty building. It was dusty and dirty, nothing like the bar that Dean was sure had been in that spot the night before. “I just don’t understand.”

“I don’t know what to tell you Dean.” Sam sighed. “Maybe you were drunk researching or something.”

“I’m not you dude.” Dean pointed out. “There’s got to be something here.” But Sam didn’t answer him. Instead, Dean was just greeted by a thud. He turned to look to see Sam sprawled out on the ground. Before Dean could say anything, he was laying right there by him.

****

“What are we supposed to do with them?” A voice asked. Dean groaned at the heavy voice of a man not too far away from him. He pried his eyes open and saw Sam sitting against the wall directly across from him. There was obvious bruising on the side of his head, and Dean was sure he probably had one to match. Sam wasn’t looking at Dean though. He was looking at a couple who was arguing in the middle of the room.

“It’s not my fault that things didn’t go as plan.” The woman hissed. “We’re low on Alethia’s powers. I couldn’t OD him on truth. You know that.” Dean made a noise then, directing their attention to him.

“Oh, you’re both awake. Good.” The woman said.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean groaned. “What the hell do you want?”

“Wow, he jumps right to the point.” The man laughed. “I will enjoy devouring his soul.”

“Excuse me?” Sam asked. The woman walked over to Sam, heels clanging on the cement floor. She crouched in front of Sam.

“Your soul is seasoned with some many wonderful smelling things.” She said with a smile. “And we each are going to eat one.” She caressed Sam’s face. “My name is Apate, and this is Dolos.”

“Yeah and I don’t really care.” Dean remarked. Dolos looked back at Apate, who stood from where she was.

“I thought you didn’t overdose him.” Dolos said. Sam sighed.

“No, that’s just him.” Sam remarked.

“So, let me guess, you’re going to kill us and eat our souls?” Dean asked. Apate and Dolos looked at each other before they started to laugh. “What?”

“We can’t eat your souls if we kill you.” She said. “They’ll be tarnished and are almost like poison then. But if you kill each other or yourselves, well, that’s another story.” She turned from Sam and walked over to Dean, taking a vial with her that was sitting on the table that her and Dolos had been arguing by. “We don’t have much of this left, but after getting a reading on both of you, I doubt that we’ll be hungry for awhile.” Dolos grabbed Dean’s mouth and forced it open, allowing for Apate to pour the liquid in him.

“Hey!” Sam screamed. Dolos snapped his fingers, silencing him.

“Doesn’t that just taste amazing?” Apate laughed when Dean had swallowed everything. Dean wanted to come up with some witty remark, but instead:

“Honestly, it kinda tasted like apples.” He said. Sam stared at Dean. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“Because you have a whole bunch of truth running through your system, thanks to a gift from a very darling goddess.” Apate laughed. “Now, Dean, isn’t there something that you want to say to Sam?” She asked. “Something you’ve been holding in all these years?” Dean’s eyes widened and he tried to keep his mouth shut. “Come on Dean.”

“I...I love you Sam, I do. You’re my brother and there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for you,” He closed his eyes so he wasn’t looking at Sam. “But sometimes I...I wish I would’ve listened to dad all those years ago and...and killed you while I had the chance.”

“Ouch.” Dolos remarked. Apate looked over at Sam to see him staring at Dean.

“Well Sam, maybe it’s time you take it out on him.” Apate said, releasing the hold she had on Sam. “I’m sure you know how to use this.” She slid Ruby’s knife to him. “Wouldn’t that be fitting to use on him?” Sam picked it up and looked at Dean. “Go on Sam. He wants to kill you. So you should kill him.” Sam walked towards Dean.

“Are you telling the truth?” Sam asked, his voice more of a low whisper. Dean nodded after a moment.

“I’m so sorry Sammy.” Dean said. Sam bit his lip and nodded.

“Yeah, me too.” He raised the knife then spun around, stabbing Apate in the chest, making her scream in pain as the metal of the blade of the Kurds burned her skin and killed her from the inside out. Killing her released Dean, and he was able to tackle Dolos while Sam stabbed him. He laid on the ground by his fallen lover.

“Damn, that was fun.” Dean laughed, kicking at Dolos. “And I don’t feel like I need to tell the truth anymore.” He looked up at Sam, but his smile started to fade as he saw the look on Sam’s face. “Sammy…”

“Don’t call me Sammy.” Sam mumbled. He looked at the knife in his hand before he tossed it to the ground and walked out of the building, leaving Dean behind.

Forever Tags: @newtospnfandom @serpentbaby @aiaranradnay@af112992@theas-bedtime-stories @dekahg @bandobsession98@secretlyshycomputer@crownedloki @cutie1365 @dslocum89 @nanie5marvel-afskeetskeetfucker @wilford-motherluvin-warfstache@xxwarhawk@luciathewinchestergirl @imboredsueme

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#bad things happen bingo #badthingshappenbingo #truth serum #sam winchester #dean winchester #hurt sam #hurt dean #hurt sam winchester #hurt dean winchester #supernatural #fanfic #fanfiction #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #challenge fic

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