#Sam needs a goddamn nap that’s for sure

[quietwingsinthesky]

👀👀👀 Sorry for adding to your work but can I get Sam drinking Lucifer's blood

Hello hello hello anon sorry for the wait but hopefully the extra uh 3000 words makes up for it <3 and also born-again identity fix-it since it’s topical for me atm.

Sam is very familiar with dying.

It’s usually faster than this. He closes his eyes, and he’s facing Dean in Cold Oak with a knife in his spine or he’s sitting on a motel bed with a shotgun pointed at his chest. It hurts, but it’s brief like a ripped off band-aid. He goes into the cold, beckoning dark. He feels safe there. All the world fades away. Just like falling asleep, he wakes up a little later, his wounds vanished like a dream but the dried blood on his clothes left as a warning.

He’s never marinated in his own death before. He can feel it seeping into his pores. His head is throbbing like thunder even when Lucifer shuts up, too far gone to survive this without a miracle that isn’t coming. He was wondering a while ago what parts of him would fail first, and Lucifer “helped” by counting down the hours for him, straddling Sam’s torso with his fingers trailing over his skin. Poking Sam’s ribs vindictively as he laid out exactly when Sam could expect his organs to give up the fight. “First time dying alone, Sammy?” he said, doing that awful thing where his voice got soft and sympathetic just so that he could tear it away a moment later. “Dean’s not going to make it back in time. We knew that the minute he left.” Sam looked away from him, heave of his head to the side. “I’m here. I won’t leave you. Isn’t that comforting?”

He’d waited for a response. Sam couldn’t give him one. He’d decided to find the answer inside Sam instead, a vivisection that stretched on and on until Sam couldn’t cry anymore, and when it was over, there was no blood, no cuts, just Lucifer looking so pleased with himself as Sam tried not to throw up. Sam was too tired to do anything but turn away from him again.

Something new had kept Sam awake the past few days as his time ran out. A sound he’d been deafened by once before as the final seal broke and the Cage opened under his feet and all the light and power that was Lucifer came screaming out. Hearing it now made his teeth rattle. He’s never heard his hallucination make anything close to that noise. He taunts and insults and shouts in a very human way. Even his torture is crude and physical. Sam isn’t fit to be haunted by an angel, no matter how fallen. When the sound finally went silent again, Sam wasn't sure if he was relieved or not.

His hallucination hadn’t given him more than a day before Sam’s liver fails first. He might be lying. The fallen-out hairs on Sam’s pillow beg to differ.

Sam’s mind is filled with calm and dreadful certainty. It’s over. He lost.

And Lucifer still won’t shut up. He’s doing it to rub it in now, gloating. Sam weakly cups his ears, and that does nothing to block it out.

There’s been someone else in his room for the past day. She looks like a woman, finely dressed, watching him impassively as his condition worsens. She’s not one of the staff. He’s pretty sure no one else can see her, no one but him and Lucifer.

“Vulture,” Lucifer spits at her, “I’m not finished. Find somewhere else to circle.” She doesn’t react except to look at her watch and then look at Sam. There is something like pity in her eyes, the hollow sort that brings no comfort and takes no action. Sam feels weirdly grateful to Lucifer for snapping at her like a feral dog, even if she can’t hear it. There’s no way he could do it himself.

It’s not hard to guess what she is and who she’s here for.

Sam stares at her as his head throbs. Every part of his body aches. His heartbeat feels weak. She frowns, nods, and taps her watch. Not long, then. He wishes Dean hadn’t bothered to try and save him. He wants one last embrace, Dean’s voice all rough and faux hopeful telling him it’ll be okay, they figure this out. If nothing else, it’s comforting that with Crowley’s hands on the reins of Hell, no demon alive will be taking a deal with Dean.

Sam’s tired. It’s okay. He won’t fight. He’ll go quiet.

“Back to me,” Lucifer says, because he never lets Sam forget it.

Sam doesn’t even care. He’s out of vacation days. It’s back to the Cage, where he belongs. Castiel never should have pulled him out. Dean never should have dragged his soul along, too. He wasn’t worth the effort.

Lucifer laughs again. Sam flinches. The reaper folds her arms.

And then, for the first time in days, there’s silence.

Sam doesn’t trust it. He doesn’t let his eyes close. The longer it stretches on, the more his body tenses in anticipation. The other shoe will drop. It’s only a matter of time.

He hears a beating sound. His hair gets blown out of place, tickling his face. He can see three people in his room.

“Sam?” asks Lucifer, softly. He doesn’t look very good. He’s bleeding, open sores that line his face, his hands, and probably other places Sam can’t see. Sam’s head swims. His eyes waver back to the Lucifer who was here first, who doesn’t have a mark on him and never has. He wears his face like he never needed Sam’s.

“It isn’t enough I have to share you with her. Now I’m encroaching on my own territory?” he says like he’s about to throw a tantrum.

The other Lucifer turns to face him. Sam’s hallucination of him is as caught off-guard as Sam feels. Lucifer, the one who bleeds, tilts his head, looks this image of himself up and down, and when he looks back over at Sam, his expression is contorted in sorrow. “Is that how you see me?” he asks.

“It’s what we are,” the hallucination answers for Sam. Sam’s not sure which ‘we’ he’s talking about.

“Be quiet,” Lucifer orders. Sam’s eyes widen as the impossible happens, a flicker along the edge of his hallucination’s appearance.

“If Sam can’t make me, what makes you think you-“ There’s a desperate edge to his tone, wholly unlike the way he ever sounded when Sam banished him. Lucifer glares at him.

“I said, shut up.”

He’s gone. Just like that. Sam exhales. Lucifer turns to the reaper.

“You can leave.”

The reaper’s voice follows, “We have an appointment.” Lucifer sighs heavily.

“You had one.” He comes closer to Sam, sitting on the side of the cot. Sam shuts his eyes tight. Lucifer touches his shoulder. He feels cold. With all the hellfire in Sam’s head, he’d forgotten that. “He belongs to me. When he dies, I’m who you’d deliver his soul to.” He waits a beat. “Am I right?”

“You are,” the reaper confirms.

“Then your role here’s irrelevant. I’m collecting him personally.” Sam shakes. Lucifer’s attention turns, his hand weighing heavier on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t be afraid, Sam. I’m here.” He pets Sam’s hair, and he grimaces when strands pull free too easily. “I let you out of my sight for five minutes…” his voice trails off. There’s too much pain in it for him to speak around. He swallows and looks back over his shoulder at the reaper. “I told you to leave.”

“I still have to make sure that his soul crosses over.” She makes Sam sound like a job. An important one, but still just business. Lucifer hates that. Sam’s not sure how he knows exactly, but he can feel it prickling under his own skin.

“It won’t be.” Lucifer’s fingers trail over Sam’s face, from the bags under his eyes to the almost healed bruises from his accident. “I won’t tell you again. I have spent the last century dragging myself out of Hell to find him. You don’t want to be the one to get in my way now.” She makes an extremely disgruntled sigh.

And then there’s only one person in the room with Sam. Alone together at last.

Sam’s eyes want to close badly. This Lucifer is so quiet, his touch so gentle and calming.

“No, not yet, Sam,” Lucifer says. “If you fall asleep now, you won’t wake up. Let’s not get on Death’s nerves anymore than we already have.” Sam whimpers. He should have known this was all too good to be true. Not even this Lucifer will let him sleep. “I know,” he murmurs, “I know. Believe me, I plan to whisk you away to a much more comfortable bed than this one and force you to sleep for a week, but there’s something we have to take care of first.” Lucifer’s hand slides down his body to rest on his chest. Sam breathes in, pushing his hand up minutely. His eyes narrow for a moment, searching. What he finds makes his frown deepen.

Sam makes a questioning noise. It’s more than he’s been able to force himself to do for a while. Lucifer’s made him talkative. Lucifer glances up to meet his eyes before fixing them back on Sam’s middle. “There’s a lot of damage here, Sam. The Cage doesn’t let anything go that easily. I don’t know how you’ve survived this long.” Sam almost chokes on a laugh. Easily. “I know how to heal you. I need your consent to-“

“No,” Sam croaks. Lucifer stops.

“I don’t want you to die,” he says, stubborn and upset.

“I'm not your vessel.” Speaking makes Sam feel like he’s going to vomit or pass out or both. Lucifer’s eyes widen for a moment before he regains his composure.

"That's not what I'm asking." Sam finds that hard to believe. Both of their bodies are falling apart. "You really think I'm just a monster, don't you?" He looks like Sam has actually hurt him. Sam... isn't sure what he thinks. His head is too filled with smoke, the clashing battle between the Lucifer in his mind who wanted to tear into him and the one sitting on his cot who wants to put him back together. He can't make them fit together. Lucifer is touching his face again. His thumb presses against Sam's lips like that's the closest either of them can bear to a kiss. "You need a little of me inside you for your body to be strong enough to heal itself, but that doesn't mean I have to take you as a vessel." Sam makes a face. "Stop looking at me like that. It wasn't an innuendo. I'm offering to bleed for you."

The fear that clutches Sam's chest makes his weak heart do double-time. He tries to push Lucifer's hand away from his face, but even if he had been human, Sam doubts he could have. "No," he forces out, "no, please, don't."

"Sam, calm down. You'll hurt yourself." Sam refuses. He won't do it again. He won't become that thing again, the monster Dean wanted to put down, selfish and arrogant and the reason the whole world was going to end. He won't let Lucifer turn him into that. Lucifer doesn't move, both hands on Sam's shoulders to keep him from trying to roll out of the bed to escape. He speaks slowly, pulling Sam back from the edge of panic, "I'm not a demon. My blood isn't addictive and it can't change you. Nothing about me can change you." His palm cups Sam's face again. "I'm already a part of you."

He's telling the truth. Sam can feel it. He doesn't understand how.

"Do I have your consent?" Lucifer asks again. Sam looks into his eyes. Lucifer cares about his answer. Sam inhales sharply as he realizes that Lucifer will save him, but that he also loves Sam enough to let him go. He won't be happy about it, but he'll respect that last wish. Sam can say no. Maybe it's a meaningless gesture when his soul will still be folded into Lucifer's grace, but if he really wants this to be over, if it's too much, than he can close his eyes and go to sleep. It'll be just like every other time, brief pain, into the dark, to be kept safe, only this time he will never wake up. Sam lays his hand over Lucifer's. All the devil cares about is what will make him happy.

"Yes," Sam decides. Lucifer is here, and it feels like he can breathe again. Quickly, Lucifer withdraws his hand. A cut opens over a patch of unblemished skin. It will be cleaner that way, but Sam's exhausted mind wonders if Lucifer would let him up to press his mouth against the burns and lick the blood up from them. He doesn't have long to contemplate that before Lucifer holds the cut over his mouth. Bright red blood drips from the cut, dotting Sam's chapped lips. His tongue slides out to taste it and more fall into his open mouth. It’s nothing like demon blood. The only similarity is how quickly the need for more consumes his thoughts. A drop or two isn't enough to sate him. He reaches for Lucifer's arm, hands trembling, and drags the cut down to his mouth. Lucifer lets him, leaning in to give Sam a better angle to latch onto the wound.

The cut is deep enough that when Sam sucks on it, it flows into his mouth like a stream. Lucifer's veins are opened up for him. Sam shuts his eyes, losing himself to it in seconds. There's a voice in the back of his head demanding that he pull all of Lucifer inside him, where he belongs, where Sam needs him. With thirsty gulps, he tries to make that a reality. Lucifer's other hand strokes his hair, lifting Sam's head slightly so that he doesn't choke while he's drinking. Sam's tongue keeps the cut wet, wriggling its way into Lucifer's flesh greedily like he can coax out more blood that way. The supply is steady, always enough to fill Sam's mouth, but not so much that he can't swallow it down in time. Lucifer's vessel obeys him, and it won't heal itself until Sam has first.

"Take everything you need," Lucifer encourages. Sam is holding on too tight, his nails digging little crescents into Lucifer's already bruised skin. He doesn't complain. Sam's not sure he can even feel it above the delirious joy of part of him being accepted back into Sam's body. "Take it all, if you want to. You can. I'd let you." Sam pulls off the cut to breathe. It still drips over his gasping mouth, drops rolling down his tongue to the back of his throat. The metallic taste lingers. There's no sulfur in Lucifer's blood, nothing but pure salvation, saved for Sam alone.

Drinking from him feels like trying to swallow an nuclear reactor. Sam can't get enough of him. The remnants of Lucifer's grace are mixed in with every drop, filling Sam up. Under his skin, he feels like his insides are being caressed, every pain wiped away. His heartbeat strengthens as Lucifer's grace gets into his own veins and powers the cells through. The fog in Sam's head doesn't lift, but it clears more than it has in days.

He brings Lucifer's wrist back to his mouth and latches on again.

Sam holds onto him with more strength than his body should have. He keeps drinking, mouthful after mouthful. With each breath, each heartbeat, Lucifer’s grace pumps further through every organ. Sam’s lips are smeared with his blood.

He’s not sure how long he drinks from Lucifer. He goes until his stomach starts to protest and Lucifer himself looks pale and unsteady. He’s stopped petting Sam’s hair to keep a hand against the cot, leaning heavily on it but never taking away his blood. Sam laps at his wrist gratefully before he pushes it away. It’s the reminder he’s needed for months of his own willpower.

Lucifer looks worse than he did when he arrived. There’s another wound blistering at the collar of his shirt. Sam reaches for him. Lucifer offers his wrist again, but Sam bypasses it, grasping his shoulder and drawing him close. Lucifer bows over Sam as Sam gently kisses the burns. He wishes that was enough to heal Lucifer.

“What’s the plan now?” Sam asks. He’s running on the strength of his high, but beneath it, he can still feel his body trying to shut him down and pass out. He resists of his own free will for a few moments longer in Lucifer’s presence. Lucifer smiles.

”That was the plan. I came to save you, and now I have.” Sam presses his lips against a scabbed-over sore. Lucifer is so beautiful. He’d almost forgotten that with only the pale imitation of his hallucination to look at. “I can bring you somewhere more comfortable to rest if you give me a minute to recover.”

”And after that?”

”I don’t know.” His eyes drift over to the desk on the opposite side of the room. It’s empty. It will remain empty. Sam can’t feel the whispering inside of his head that means the hallucination is about to come back. Even if it did, Lucifer has chased it off once.

“Stay with me,” Sam says. Lucifer looks back at him. He’s surprised, but with the offer given freely, he won’t deny himself what he needs. If Lucifer had a hard time existing without Sam when he had a purpose, as terrible an ends as the Apocalypse was, Sam can’t imagine he’d have any idea how to find his way in the world now without him.

And more importantly, Sam missed him.

”Okay,” Lucifer breathes, turning his head so that Sam’s next kiss presses to his mouth. It leaves his own blood on bottom lip, which Sam licks off. Then, he brushes another kiss to a burn on Lucifer’s chin. “They're only going to get worse,” Lucifer tells him. “I can’t heal them.”

“As long as we can figure out a way for your vessel to hold you, I don’t care.” He kisses another. This one is bleeding, and Sam doesn’t spare a thought to kissing it anyway. “Besides, I’ve got some new scars to show you, too.”

”Later,” Lucifer says. He lays Sam back down. Sam doesn’t resist. Not even the angel blood inside him can keep him conscious now. Lucifer lays his hand over Sam’s eyes. “I promise, when you wake up, it won’t be in this cell.” Sam chuckles weakly. The moment before he passes out, he remembers that Dean is going to return at some point. He opens his mouth to tell Lucifer to leave a note for him or something to let Dean knows that the devil’s (consensually) kidnapping his brother, but he’s gone before he can get a single word out.

[takumiraine]

Once upon a time chapter 10

<first> <prev> <next>

Danny slept more soundly in these two little cat naps with Sam and Tucker (and Jason) present than he had in the last couple of years. Really since the ghost shit started. His first awareness was Tucker saying “no dude, seriously, watch.” Right before Danny remembered to breathe.

“Freaky…” he heard Jason mutter.

Danny opened his eyes. “Technically dead, remember?” He yawned, stretching in a way that he had been told most people couldn’t move in.

“It’s still kinda weird man,” Tucker said without a hint of remorse, even as Danny swatted him. “But your food’s done.” That drew Danny’s full attention. He sat up, taking the plate that had been offered to him. Carefully, Danny blew on the rolls, before popping one into his mouth.

“P’f’ct” he mumbled through his bite.

Sam shook her head. “So is your big bat friend aware that we’re coming too, as Danny’s backup?”

“Yeah. I told him. He’s not thrilled but what can he really do. He feels guilty that he missed a chance to help adoption bait.”

“So he doesn’t think I’m going to go villain on you?” Jason shrugged.

“You had plenty of time and motivation to do so to me.”

Tucker’s PDA beeped. He looked down at it. Looked up at Jason. Looked back at it. Showed the results to Sam and Danny. “Does that mean…?” Danny looked back up at Jason.

“Dude. Is your fucking dad Batman?” Danny asked.

“How….?” Jason didn’t have a good answer to that because if he said no, then in like an hour max, Danny would learn of another lie, but if he said yes, it felt like some sort of weird betrayal against B. “What makes you think that?”

“Because Tucker needed to isolate the crack you guys made into the GIW before he could make sure they haven’t done anything about it and… I’m pretty sure the main location came from right where your house is. So it’s either your dad or your butler.”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please be surprised when he tells you. And please let me be the one to tell the Replacement that some random guy followed his hacking trail on a goddamn PDA, and was able to deduce Batman’s identity from it. He’s gonna froth at the mouth and I need to be the one to cause that.”

“Who’s the Replacement?” Sam asked.

“The kid that became Robin after me. He and Oracle led the break in to that site.” Danny crunched another couple pizza rolls, while Tucker looked triumphant.

“Watch, they’re like a big creepy family of crime fighting rich people.” Danny nudged his friends between bites. Jason forced himself to laugh along.

“You might never know. B said he was the only one he was going to out tonight.” Jason hedged, trying to play up the mysterious vibe.

The trio shared a look as Danny finished off the rest of his pizza rolls. “Right. Anyways. You’re not going to like blindfold us right? We can just go in like normal people? Or is he going to come to us?”

“He’ll send a car when we’re ready. No blindfolds.”

“Good because I’m not doing kinky stuff with someone I haven’t even kissed yet.” Danny said through another yawn, stretching out obliviously.

Jason stared, open mouthed.

“What…?” Danny asked when he opened one eye mid stretch. He ran back what he just said, face turning scarlet. “I mean… fuck. You know what I mean.” He groused, purposefully not looking at the other three. “You try not really sleeping for five years and see where it gets you.”

Tucker and Sam burst into a fit of laughter. “Called it.” Sam announced, fist bumping Tucker and deftly dodging the swat.

“I can’t believe I’m still friends with you two assholes.” Danny grumbled, still red. “Let’s get this execution over with…”

Bruce sent Alfred in the town car to pick them up. “Master Jason, it is good to see you are making friends.” Alfred’s voice was genuinely caring beneath the dry delivery.

“Yeah yeah. A, these are Danny, Tucker and Sam. Three new people for you to feed.”

“Most excellent, I am always being told that I cook entirely too much.” Feeding a family of vigilantes that never seem to sit still requires a lot of food after all. He opened the back door gesturing for them to enter. “Sirs. Ma’am. Master Jason, I assume you will be taking ‘shotgun’?”

Danny, Tucker and Sam slid into the car, squishing Danny in the middle seat. Jason went around and opened his own door as Alfred closed the back. “Yeah. I’m not feeling like the trunk tonight.”

The ride to the manor was tense, even though Alfred did his best to settle it out by talking about different foods in the fridge that needed to be eaten if ‘you kids’ -Jason included- would be amenable.

For Danny, it was torture on two fronts. First, he had no idea what he was walking into. The second was that even after a pile of pizza rolls, Danny still felt like he had a black hole instead of a stomach. Was that due to the fact his family never seemed to have an adequate volume of non contaminated food, he was a man under 25, a halfa or just hadn’t eaten much recently? Not even he knew the answer to that. He was just pretty used to ignoring the feeling.

When the car drove through the manor’s gates, nobody seemed impressed. Which would have been concerning if Jason hadn’t remembered seeing the Mansons at galas before. Danny seemed like he was trying to melt through the seats, regretting his choice to come there.

“I swear to fuck if it’s Vlad here…” he muttered to the two other teens, so quietly Jason almost didn’t hear it.

“You’d feel it wouldn’t you?” Tucker asked just as quietly.

“Maybe? If it’s not his domain it might take longer…”

“Well do you feel anything now?” From Sam. Jason watched Alfred’s eyes in the mirror. He was listening too.

“No…. Not him. This is the domain of something, but I don’t know who or what.” Danny tried to look out the window, squinting through the glass to look for Jason didn’t know what.

Eventually he shrugged and sat back as the car pulled down the winding drive. It was only as Alfred opened the door to the backseat that something odd happened. Danny’s breath came out in a single puff of winter condensation, and all three of them tensed. Bruce was standing there, watching them, and all three got out, lining up against the back of the car. Danny seemed to be looking at something, distracted while B was giving them the typical welcome speech, and ushering them inside out of the cool night air. Though the other two didn’t seem to be able to see what Danny did, they gave whatever he was looking at a wide berth.

“D?” Tucker asked, hand on Danny’s arm. He just shook his head.

“Not violent.” He murmured back. “Been here a long time…”

That brought up more questions than Jason thought he’d be able to ask in one night. If Bruce heard the exchange he wisely chose to comment on it.

They all followed Bruce into the main sitting room, and the trio sat on the couch while Bruce took one armchair and Jason shoved another to be more lined up with the couch before flopping into it in a way that was sure to make B’s teeth grit.

“Has Jason told you why I’ve brought you here, chum?” Bruce said to Danny once Alfred had brought them all drinks and an assortment of snacks. Danny immediately set in on the food, eating in a way that was just controlled enough to seem bored.

Danny was about to answer when Sam elbowed him in the side. He finished chewing and swallowed. “He said you’d explain everything when we got here. I assumed it was because you thought we were dating and wanted to give me the shovel talk.” A pause. “We aren’t.” Another pause. “Dating that is. These are good snacks.” Danny’s eyes kept darting to something over Bruce’s shoulder.

Jason assumed it was to the portrait of the late Waynes. Those eyes had an uncanny habit of seeming to hone in on you wherever you went. Still, before Bruce could process, Jason put on his best terrible southern accent. “Aw, honey, no need to hide from my father. No doubt you’ll be able to win my dowry in no time.”

“Jason.” Bruce sounded constipated. Good. Serves him right for tormenting Danny. “No, I brought you here because I have something very important to reveal to you.” Bruce waited an appropriately dramatic amount of time, causing Jason to roll his eyes. “I am Batman.” There was a moment before the trio let out the fakest gasp he’d ever heard. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What? No way!” God their acting was terrible. Danny was even doing that little nervous laugh thing he did when the topic of families came up in class.

“You knew.” It was less a question and more of a statement, then Bruce turned slowly to focus the full weight of his gaze on Jason. “They knew.”

Jason waved a hand. “Don’t look at me. They figured it out the moment I said we hacked into the GIW. Turns out having one of the hacks originate close to the house meant they could figure it out since they had some basic common sense deduction skills.”

“I….” Bruce sighed heavily and grabbed his mug, looking for the world like he was regretting every choice he’d ever made leading up to that point.

Danny snorted a laugh but covered it with a really badly acted cough. Sam elbowed him and he made a sort of helpless gesture and gestured off to the side of the room. Interesting.

“Care to share with the rest of the class Danny?” Jason asked, watching him as well as he could without actually sitting up.

“Uh… well… it has to do with uh… my powers. The lady over there…” he gestured again to the side of the room, “just told uh…. Mr. Bat…? Mr. Man…? That it’s what children do, and she’s had to watch her “Little Roo” do that to her for years now.”

At the name, Bruce sat up stock straight, looking around the room. “What kind of trick is this?” He growled, defensive. “How did you know that name?” Danny immediately looked nervous, grabbing onto his friends.

“The woman told me. The one in the painting.” Bruce and Jason both turned to look up at the portrait of the Waynes and that was all it took for Danny and his friends to completely disappear.

“Danny, come back. He’s not going to hurt you.” Jason sat up now, trying to locate Danny in the room. He knew the younger man and his friends were still there, he could feel Danny close but it was clear he was trying to reassess the situation.

When Danny didn’t immediately appear again, Jason looked around for something he could throw at Bruce. There wasn’t anything of an appropriate annoyance level immediately handy so he grabbed the pillow off the couch Danny and his friends had vacated and flung it at Bruce, taking no small amount of pride in the resounding thud it made as the fabric connected with his father’s head.

Bruce looked over at him then. “Can I help you?”

“Me? Nah. But you could try to calm Danny down before he gets sick of our shit and ghosts us permanently. He’s hiding here somewhere.” Had he just made a pun??? He needed to spend less time with Tim.

It was only then that Bruce seemed to shake off his shock at what Danny had said to realize that he and his friends were unable to be seen. “Danny? Chum? Jay is right. I will not harm you. I was just…. Shocked by the fact that my mother’s ghost is still here…. And making comments.” There was another moment of silence before Danny spoke again.

“Oh… that being your mom explains a lot. Your dad is here too, but he hasn’t said much.” Slowly, Danny became visible again, floating in the corner with his friends, who seemed far too used to being grabbed and floated off with for their own good. He lowered them to the floor first, and fidgeted with his clothes until Jason reached out and gestured to the remaining food.

“Eat or Alfred will be disappointed.” Carefully, Danny let his feet touch the floor again, and became fully solid and visible. Only once Danny was okay did Tucker and Sam go and sit back down, grabbing a snack for themselves.

“Sorry…” Danny murmured to all of them, retaking his position between his friends.

“Not at all lad. I should be the one apologizing to you. Tonight is the night of unexpected it seems.” Jason noted, that while Bruce should be apologizing, he in fact had not said the words. “I wanted to let you know, personally, that you will be safe from those government stooges while the League still stands. You should not have to be afraid to exist and had we received your messages when they were sent, we would have helped then.“

Danny narrowed his eyes, pausing mid bite. “You’d help some kid you don’t know, just like that?”

Jason snorted then, cutting off Bruce’s response. “Danny, B found like five kids, all with black hair, blue eyes and a tragic backstory. You fit right in.”

Danny looked at Jason for a moment, considering, then at the two ghosts that had stayed in the room. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. I’ll trust you. For now.”

“Excellent. Shall I have Alfred make up a couple of guest rooms?” Bruce looked entirely too happy at the idea of having guests.

“No, I’ve got my own place. But thanks…” Danny said, trying very hard not to look worried at the invitation.

Jason texted something to Alfred, then stood when the butler entered the room with a large ziploc bag. Jason stood and took it, then dumped the rest of the snacks into the bag before pressing it into Danny’s hands.

“C’mon. I’ll bring you home. You look exhausted still.” Jason carefully, but casually positioned himself between Bruce and Danny. Not that Jason didn’t trust Bruce, but Danny had been through a lot and Jason wanted to offer any protection or comfort he could. Danny nodded, standing with his friends. Sam looped one of her arms through his.

“Thank you for the food and assurances of Danny’s safety.” Tucker said diplomatically as Sam pulled Danny after Jason.

[queenofbaws]

Hii, can you write a story about my theory for the bathroom couches

"...ty-one!"

There was a series of frowns at that, the gang momentarily lifting their heads from what they'd been doing to shoot each other suspicious glances. Clearly it hadn't been any of them who'd done the talking - the voice was strangely distant and, somehow even more strangely, excited - but still, the sentiment remained.

"I-I'm sorry?" Hannah said after a moment, glancing up towards the ceiling as if it'd been some higher power to shout at them.

And then, making all the noise of a suit of armor come to life, Mike came barrelling down the lodge's staircase, sock-sliding across the great room's hardwood until he bumped against the sectional. "Thirty-ooone," he repeated, bracing himself against the back of the couch. "That's how many fucking couches you guys got in this place, you know that? What gives?"

Hannah's head was instantly in her hands. "Oh God."

"Yeah, y'know...I've been wondering about that too," Sam said slowly, setting down her big book of crossword puzzles to glance around the lodge instead, the tally in her head almost visible as she counted couch after couch. "I mean. I guess I figured it was because, uh...ski lodge. Company. That kind of thing. But...you guys do have a lot."

"And the one in the bathroom?!" Emily cut in. "The one in the bathroom is pretty heinous."

Instead of bothering to deal with their chatter individually, Beth heaved a sigh and raised her voice, speaking up over them as if she didn't care. She also continued smashing buttons on her controller as if she didn't care. And her eyes? On the tv, baby. Like she didn't care. (Spoiler: She didn't). "Once upon a time," she began, "there was this wormy little kid named Josh."

"Wormy, huh?" he asked, offhandedly at best, hunched over with his elbows on his knees as he pulled off another sick combo on-screen. "That's a new one."

"The thing about Josh," Beth continued, paying him literally no attention as she wrung his health bar dry, "was he never slept."

"Still don't! It's one of my fun little quirks. Gives me personality."

"And it took Mom and Dad forever to figure out, but - " she paused long enough to wrench her body to the side as if it would help her character dodge, and, miraculously, it did, " - eventually they noticed he'd conk out on a couch even if he wouldn't fall asleep in bed."

"Know where monsters like hiding, B? Under beds. Know what you never hear about? Monsters hiding under couches."

Tapping her pencil against her crossword book, Sam scrunched her mouth together. It was a good point. She didn't say that part out loud. A quick glance around the great room told her the others were thinking the same.

"So," Beth kept saying, "Mom, being the worry-wort she is, filled this place with couches just in case little Joshy needed a little nappy-nap. And Dad, ever-resourceful, used the ski lodge excuse every time so he could get a tax write-off or something, I don't know. It sort of snowballed. Our family isn't really known for, like, restraint."

"No," Emily pretended to gasp. "The family that bought a whole goddamn mountain? You don't say."

"...and the one in the bathroom?" Mike repeated, his emphasis clear. "Please...please don't tell me you were napping in the bathroom, dude. There...there have to be limits."

"Tub takes an awful long time to fill, my man. Anyone would get sleepy waiting for that shit."

On the other side of the sectional, having until-then been silent, Jess let out a huge, whooping sigh of relief. "Oh thank Gawwwwwd," she groaned, dramatically slumping across the cushions. "I was so sure it was gonna be some weird pervvy sex thing."

"It can be both," Beth and Josh said in unison, deadpan and only half-paying attention as they kept playing their game. Joke or not, it was too much for poor Hannah, who slid off the couch altogether, moaning and groaning and huddling onto a ball of mortification on the floor.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Thank you for tag @searchforahero

rules: answer and tag nine people you want to get to know better and catch up with.

favorite color: Black, and I need there to be a ton of black surrounding any other color to enjoy it, but I'm also a fan of lilac and teal

last song: Uncle Sam Goddamn by Brother Ali

currently reading: Almost nothing tbh, though I am sifting through various comics off and on to try and get a handle on the characters I'm trying to write, so some 1900s Young Justice stuff, and I read a bunch of Robin Tim sorta recently.

currently watching: Helloween4545 playing Crow Country I really don't do TV shows at all these days, and my movie nights crew hasn't gotten together in a long while

currently craving: a nap with my boyfriend

coffee or tea: Tea. Specifically the kind of southern US tea that comes real cheap in gallon jugs or tea bags meant to steep a gallon of water at a time, like the red diamond kinda shit

hobby to try: Coding. The squiggly little lines that make the computer go intrigue me

current au: ooooohhh I got a million of these going at all times, here's the current crop:

Chained AU

Jason is set in front of a contract that will grant near omnipotence over every facet of reality. The catch is that it requires the person who actually gains the power to be permanently bound into the service of someone else. Afraid of what this could do in the wrong hands, Jason asks Tim to be his new Master.

This one has been on permanent rotation since I was like 16 tbh

Brothers In Blood Hive King AU

In which Jason was lying at the end of BiB and was not back to normal and is still some kind of alien tentacle monster and Jason and Tim and I get to be freaks about it

We Are One clone AU

So you know how most clone plots end up with the doppleganger trying to take over the other's life and someone has to choose the real one? What if the clone and the 'real one' decided they could share actually and were complete freaks about it?

In this one Jason dies and comes back to life as per usual, except he ALSO gets cloned by someone who doesn't want Bruce to go through the horrors of a dead son. Which then means that there is a very literal replacement Jason hanging around living the life Jason would have had if he didn't die. They fight for a while but then decide that actually, they both have equal claim to this life.

So they decide to get like insanely weird with it! They take turns carving their scars into each other and telling each other every last detail of their lives and memorizing each other's verbal ticks so that they can just... pretend they are one singular person. Forever. Every day they swap which of them is doing outside things and which is doing the indoor cooking/cleaning/resting. It's a drastic improvement in quality of life for both Jasons simply due to the fact that they now actually rest a lot, and get adequate time to heal from all their injuries. They take this as a sign that they were incomplete without each other and get Even Weirder About It.

A secondary fic would feature Dick's POV as it gets revealed that for the passed five years, his younger brother has been two different people who are continuing to insist that they are one singular person even now that they're both in the same room together, and Dick can't figure out if they're trying to gaslight him or if this is some kind of ritualistic mutual cult reinforcement thing that they've used to gaslight each other into genuinely believing it's true. They talk in unison for upwards of an hour without either flubbing anything, but there's no psychics involved so they have to have just practiced that shit which is actually a thousand times scarier than there being something supernatural about them. Also Dick's pretty sure they're gonna murder him if they realize he's taken blood samples and knows that one is a clone.

Both this one and the BiB Hive King AU originally started out as Chained chapters, with Jason from Chained having been the one to ensure Hive King Jason got to stay a tentacle monster and the one to convince clone Jason and birth Jason that they both had equal right to their life. (And that since both of them already knew who the clone was, the only thing they were really fighting over was the affection of their family - something neither of them had any control over and which neither of them was ever going to get. Might as well each focus on loving themself.) I'm def keeping the Hive King one as a Chained cameo thing, not so sure about keeping this one.

Jason marries Orcus, Demon Lord of Undeath, from D&D AU???

idk man my two special interests are Jason and Demons, it was bound to happen eventually, but this one is probably staying firmly locked up in my noggin forever tbh

Uhhhhh let's see, nine whole people...

@laufire @lazaruspiss @zeroducks-2 @deepwithintheabyss @acaffeinefiend

@cologona @kittykatninja321 @swamp-spirit @cleromancy

feel free to do this thingy if you want :3

[gaycrittercentral]

if each max sin and sam virtu decited to date eachother, who would each date?

( like would lust max choose chasity sam or? )

ooooOOOOOoooo this is a fun one!! :D also WOOOOWWWW FUCK YOU TUMBLR I HAD THIS ALL WRITTEN UP AND READY TO GO AND YOU JUST FUCKIN CRASH ON ME AND DELETE ALL MY GODDAMN WORK?????? wow. hellsite real fjdksljgds;jfdsj

anyway back to the fun question ^^; this gonna get long so I'll put it under a cut!

Yeah I think you're absolutely right, Chastity and Lust are hysterical together. Like it's too much fun to chase him down and flirt relentlessly and watch him squeak in terror, Lust wouldn't be able to resist lmao. Also as I've touched on in past posts, Chastity is really just barely holding back his own desires and would definitely be into it despite his intense embarrassment. Like they make out in a closet for hours and then he stumbles out with cartoon smooch marks all over his head all woozy and lovestruck lmaoooooo. Now how about the rest of them...

OOH y'know who's really funny together, Greed and Charity. Because Greed wants everything, and Charity wants to give it to him. They are actively making each other worse and it's great <3

but I don't think they'd all match up one to one, like for example, Diligence and Sloth are funny together but would absolutely drive each other insane (or probably just to tears in Sloth's case :'/). Instead, I think Sloth would be drawn to Patience, because Patience won't make him get up pretty much ever lmao. They just sit still all day and Sloth gets a good nap and cuddle in hehe ^^

Now how about the more, er, temperamental ones...Wrath is tough because he just likes to shoot at everybody, so he's not exactly in the market for a partnership, much less relationship. But y'know, he'd be kinda perfect with Diligence because he needs people to shoot and Diligence needs people to arrest, so Diligence just goes around siccing him on every criminal in sight xD Then when Wrath gets bored and starts shooting at Diligence he just scoffs like "Stop that Max I have paperwork to file. Go shoot at some pigeons why don't you" fdsjksdljgs;dhf

Gluttony is absolutely not getting a date, he's getting a snack. And probably it's Temperance. Like Temperance would love to have a proper relationship with at least one of his multicolored husbands, but he happens to get a little too close and Gluttony's just like "ah perfect you look edible >:)" and that's all she wrote lmaooooo

Another tricky one is Humility since he's kind of just a conglomeration of self-loathing, poor baby. Honestly it would be WILDLY toxic, but I could kinda see him ending up with Pride if Pride decided he liked keeping him around for like menial tasks and offering worship and shit. Probably there's more to be said about that depending on whose version of Pride we're talking about, but I'll leave that for @pikaflute or @lizardtheartist to expand on if they happen to feel like it ;>c

And lastly, I'd love to see Kindness and Envy pair off because every version I've seen of that poor boy could use some love and reassurance, and that's all Kindness wants to do day in day out ^^ like Kindness would still be bouncing around helping other people too, but if Envy's clinging to his shoulders the whole time then he'd be able to check in with him frequently and make him still feel appreciated and cared for. What's better for feeling valued than being carried around by somebody who spends every waking moment asking if you need anything and telling you he loves you and idly scritching your cheeks while he does other stuff? ^^<3 Sure, Kindness still needs to calm the fuck down and take care of himself too, but Envy does also need to be blasted with love like that lmao so it would at least be nice in the short term.

Oh and I almost forgot their poor chopped-up counterparts, Bliss Max and Sin Sam! :0 they're interesting because they kind of go in two opposite directions--Bliss Max gets along with everybody and would probably be perfectly chill hanging out with any of the virtues, but Sin Sam is kind of perpetually ticked off and doesn't wanna be around anyone lmao. Probably Bliss Max could get along especially well with Kindness (but Kindness does try very hard to make that a given), but I could also see him being good buddies with Chastity. Since he's not really flirty, Chastity would feel safer with him, and maybe they'd have a nice little chat about hobbies or some such lol. As for Sin Sam, he might be able to have some fun with Wrath for a while, but that's assuming Wrath doesn't just try to shoot him on sight instead (which honestly seems like the more likely outcome). He'd also be able to have some fun with Lust, but he'd get sick of Lust being all lovey dovey and ditch him pretty quickly (what a heartbreaker shhgjfjdskhgsjfs xD). Bastard man. He kinda deserves to get stuck with the irritatingly bubbly Bliss Max lmaoooooo

And that's all I got!! Btw if anybody else makin vice content wants to reblog with ideas I'd love to hear em! Thanks again for a fun ask, bud :D

[castielmode]

ROMANCE. UNDER THE CUT

Dean wakes up to Cas joining him on his mattress on the floor.

"Sorry," Cas says. "I'm getting tired again, and every other place to lie down is occupied. Jody and Garth are outside keeping watch."

He knows that. Linda's on one couch, and Kevin is asleep on one of the camp chairs he put close to the fireplace. He's got two books in his lap, one open on top of the other, and a pencil still loosely held in his left hand. At least he won’t be cold, even if he is gonna fuck up his back sleeping like that. Then again, he’s eighteen. Maybe he’ll wake up fresh as a goddamn daisy. Dean knows Sam is in the bedroom because he sent him there when it looked like he was about to keel over. Charlie jokingly bitched about not getting the bed, but Dean told her it was Sam's because he’s sick and he needs to lay his gigantic body out. Charlie's on the other couch with a beanie and three blankets. She gets cold easily.

It's so quiet in the room, with everyone asleep but Dean. It's not eerie, but it is weird. He's never been very comfortable in the woods, where you can't hear anything but the animals that you don't have to worry about. Cas settling onto the air mattress makes that creaking noise that air mattresses make at the slightest move. He breathes out slow and heavy as he lets his muscles relax. The mattress complains some more.

“You’re getting tired a lot.” Dean says.

“Yeah.” Cas is much better at whispering these days, Dean thinks absently. Used to be he didn’t care who or what heard him when he spoke. “I don’t think a seraph is supposed to have this tablet. It might be -- not intended, but more suited to other angelic orders.”

“What does that mean for you?”

Cas shrugs, flat on his back, fully dressed on the left side of Dean’s bed. Poor bastard doesn’t even have a pillow. There’s an extra one Dean threw over to the side that’s left from Charlie’s earlier nap, because she likes holding onto something when she sleeps. She seems to have decided to go without it this time round, so Dean tugs it closer, motions for Cas to lift up, places it under his head. Cas says, “I don’t know. It could be detrimental, it could have no effect once I’m no longer in contact with it, it could have a long-term effect on my grace for better or worse -- there’s no precedent. I don’t think anyone’s put a tablet inside of their vessel before.”

“Yeah, you little original thinker, you.” Cas glares, but it’s kind of a low-effort version. Dean laughs at him, quiet as the woods outside. He’s gotta ask, though. “You gonna take care of yourself, Cas?”

Cas looks at him. “Like you?”

“No, man,” Dean looks back. Cas smirks, just a bit, smug. Dean thinks of the second time he ever saw him, in Bobby’s kitchen, blue and silver in the night and confident with all of heaven’s might and his own convictions behind him. He was fucking scary back then. Now he changes clothes and needs to sleep and shower, and somehow, he still gets this light in his eyes sometimes and he's terrifying. Even now. He's not even doing anything. Dean lets himself take a deep breath and act like he’s not scared of his best friend. “Okay, all right. Splinters and beams, okay, I get it. I’m just saying, you should. ‘Cause you’re not gonna let us do it.”

“Dean --”

“You could, you know.” Cas looks away, which doesn’t matter, exactly, but - “Me and Sam, we’re not that bad at it.”

Frowning at the ceiling, Cas says, “Is this a... a family thing?”

“Family, friends, allies -- yeah, man, any way you slice it, it’s our job, and you’ve earned it.” Dean doesn’t know what he’s trying to get across here, but it’s crucial that he does. He keeps his voice quiet. “You just gotta let us do it.”

For a while, Dean is sure Cas has fallen asleep, but then he says, “So, if we’re family, that means that I get to take care of you, too.”

Dean’s throat clicks on the swallow. “Yeah. Sure, man. Whatever you want.”

The quiet stretches and looms, until Cas says, decisive and still in that low voice -- "All right."

And then Cas does go to sleep, and Dean stays awake for at least another hour and a half trying to figure out what the fuck they actually said to each other before the crackling fire and the relief of having everyone under the same roof finally puts him back to sleep.

[loomiskiller]

He needed a goddamn break from this. He knew he had to do the parenting. He was his job as Sam's father to do the parenting. But, lately, he was just so fucking tired. He gets that Sam isn't adjusting well to Christina leaving. He curses Christina's entire existence. He should have seen this coming. She was becoming more and more distant. She was forgetting to do things with Sam. She was showing up less and less. And now she's gone. She is gone and now he has to deal with their daughter's trauma and the reopening of his own. He is angry at her, however, not Sam.

He sighs about to give in and bribe Sam with something she would like to do. Which he would have done with her regardless, but, he would sweeten the deal somehow. Just something to get her to just stop acting out right now. He did not like the looks and stares he was getting. Have this people not had to deal with their kid having a meltdown? He wanted to have one with her. He needed a goddamn drink right now. And an hours long nap.

"Sammy, come on. Please, stop. You need to play by yourself. You need to make friends and socialize more, baby girl." He would not be far away. He would just be on a bench watching her from afar. He's been playing with her already. He needed a break. When the woman and hers approach, this causes Sam to stop. For now. Her small fingers stayed locked into the fabric of his jeans, not letting go as she looked at the woman and her children.

"You aren't bothering us." In fact, since Sam has decided to quieten down, he is grateful for her walking up to them. "Look, Sam. They want to share a snack with you. Isn't that nice?" He does not bother to hide the exhaustion in his voice. Sam keeps staring at them and it is causing Billy to become a little unsettled. What is she thinking right now? "..........Sure." She finally speaks. A one word answer, but, she's not screaming bloody murder anymore, so, he will take it.

Oh god, it had been a whole bloody year since Amelia successfully resurrected her sons from the dead. While it was a triumphant feat, the woman hoped it wouldn’t occur again due to the price they paid – their vampirism and their memories of their older-selves… It was honestly a blur to her with how quick the twins acclimated to the modern world. Amelia wagered it was the fact that she was there with them and that was enough for them to start anew with their second chance in life. Raising them again was no issue for her, as they meant everything to her even centuries ago. She wouldn’t take this second chance for granted. 

While she sat upon the bench, Amelia tied her twins’ shoes and reapplied some sunscreen on their pallid skin where it had rubbed off from their car seats. Her twins were eager to play and impatiently expressed their unadulterated joy by jumping up and down in one spot. “ Hurry mama! We wanna play! “ Elijah exclaimed while Ruvik pouted as she applied the remaining sunscreen on his face. 

“ Oh my goodness, I didn't know you wanted to play right now, sweetie. Give me one moment and then you’re off! “ she cooed, booping his nose before shuffling into their play bag. She almost laughed aloud when she heard both of them impatiently groan. However, Amelia’s attention shifted when she heard a child shrieking and whining coming from behind her.

Emerald eyes shielded by black sunglasses met a scene of a girl, around the same age as her sons, was absolutely not having it while Amelia deduced that the man with her was the father, attempting to placate and soothe her. Amelia worried her bottom lip between her teeth, her brows furrowed deeply. The woman empathized, recalling plenty of situations with her own children. The annoyed, judgmental looks from the other parents almost made her want to talk some shit to them. She despised the absolute gall of those who judge others based on their fussy kids.

“ Mummy, is she okay? “ she felt Ruvik tug her black sundress at the waist which made her turn towards them. Elijah, who asked that question, had a concerned frown as he peered up at her. Parting her lips to answer, Ruvik muttered to her. “ Does she want a snack? We can share. “ His twin immediately nodded, looking at his mum expectantly. “ You know what, sure. Let’s go ask yeah? “ Impressed by their empathy, she stood up and gathered the bags in one hand before gesturing to her kids to hold her free hand as she approached the father and child.

She stopped a few feet away from them, giving them ample space so she doesn’t encroach their boundaries. With a gentle smile, Amelia politely said, “ Hello. I apologize for disturbing you. My sons were worried and wanted to see if your daughter would like a snack. Isn’t that right, boys? “ Her sons shyly nestled themselves to her sides when she turned her attention to them. However, they nodded despite their shyness. Ruvik pressed his face into her hip while Elijah pointed at the bags in her hand. “ We have goldfish! “

@loomiskiller

[howdoyousleep3]

where’s that hc about bucky learning to touch 🤲

I was hoping someone would notice that tag and hit me up. Thank you, sweet pea. This one is special to me, one of many. ❤

Bucky doesn’t say much about what happened to him after the fall and before Steve was miraculously given a second chance at a life with him. Steve is thankful for that. The details he does know come from Bucky’s therapist and from files that have been scrounged up over time, ones Steve can’t stomach through, ones he hands to Natasha and asks only for the information she finds pertinent.

Steve is sure he’d die of a goddamn broken heart if he knew every detail of Bucky’s 70+ years of brainwashed torture.

What he needs to know about Bucky is constant and will never change: this is James Barnes, the one in the same Steve spent his entire life falling in love with, Steve loves him now more than ever, and he is going to live every day he’s gifted with in this life for Bucky.

There are things Steve expects after Bucky joins him and the others back at the Tower, things Bruce has helped him comprehend in such a volatile predicament.

“It could take months, years even, for him to come back to you in full. And honestly, Steve...I would be ready for the possibility of him not returning to you in full. This may not end up being the Bucky you knew and grew up with. He needs therapy, needs patience, needs reminders of his life before, of who he was and is. This won’t be easy, Steve.”

Anything for Bucky.

There are things Bucky took to right away and other things that took much longer for him to enjoy or remember. Steve is with him every step of the way.

Sleep was one thing that Steve thought would be a struggle. After only one month of sleeping on the floor in the corner of his bedroom, Steve able to hear him tossing and turning and breathing heavily through his own bedroom wall, it took one afternoon nap on the couch to make him want to move to his new bed. While nightmares continued, Bucky slept albeit in small increments and sometimes through the day, but he slept.

Steve thought that would take years.

Crowds were another story. Crowds came with trust and Bucky rightfully didn’t trust others easily. He barely trusted Steve at first. It took time to get him out of the apartment, baby steps, one step forward and two steps back. They started with walks at dawn, fewer people, gave a shot at stopping for coffee on the way home a few times.

“It’s a Venti here, Buck,” Steve had tried to explain and Bucky huffed. “Why are things so goddamn complicated now? Just want a coffee, a—”

“I know— a black coffee with too much sugar. I got it.”

They’re working on interactions with others and the anxiety that comes with crowds. That one will take time.

What hadn’t taken time, and what startled everyone in the tower beyond belief, was Bucky and affection.

Steve may not know much of what Bucky has spent most of his life enduring but he at least had the assumption that what Bucky went through shouldn’t make him want any kind of touch from another person. Steve wrongfully assumed that any sort of gentle or soft touch wasn't something Bucky would like.

Bucky had spent the past 70+ years walking this earth as a killer, a robot, a machine, an assassin. He surely spent decades thinking he wasn’t worthy of anything, let alone love. He had been touch-starved, void of the tenderness and closeness Steve knows Bucky deserved and craved underneath the brainwashed parts of him.

It took time for Bucky to remember who Steve was to him. While he had recognized him immediately, remembering him but not how, it took months for Bucky to remembered the capacity in which he did so.

And Steve waited.

And waited.

Steve was gifted with small moments along the way, on this journey of Bucky remembering both himself and who Steve was to him:

“You...you were real small once,” Bucky said, factual with no trace of a question, hands in soapy water as he handed Steve a plate to dry. Steve had merely hummed. “Yeah, was...was maybe half the size I am now. Real small.”

“Could fit both’a my hands right around your middle…”

It had been a long while since Steve blushed like that.

Bucky standing over Steve’s sleeping form, heaving chest visible by only the filtered moonlight, Steve mumbling out a, “Buck, wha—?” before Bucky whispered, “You...you’ve been inside of me.” Steve sat up.

“I have,” Steve breathed, on cautious ground, shakier when Bucky then whispered, “But you like it better when I’m inside’a you.”

When Steve had swallowed audibly, nodded his head wordlessly, Bucky had turned and left the room.

It took months of moments like those to compile together, to form the picture of what Steve once was, what he yearned to continue to be, to Bucky. All of these moments, these memories, came to a head so unpredictably during yet another movie night. Knees knocking, fingers brushing, small touches that Steve absolutely soaked in, had gotten used to, had relearned.

When a glance towards Bucky had the wind knocking its way out of Steve’s chest, the familiarity of that look a bone-deep ache—

Bucky was going to kiss him.

A look full of determination and want, lips parted, eyes a bit glassy. Steve didn't dare move, had let Bucky come to him for fear of scaring him away. The moment their lips touched was the moment Bucky started crying. It had only been a short brush of their lips but Steve barely breathed, barely moved. Bucky had pulled back with wide, wet eyes, shaky breaths. “Buck, it’s okay. It’s okay. Everything’s alright, sweetheart,” are the words that easily slipped from his mouth, unable to stop them in a moment of progress that satiated his entire being.

That was the moment that changed everything. It was a startle to everyone involved. Steve had been ready to wait years, this entire life, for the moment he could touch Bucky again, could show him that physicality he knew his Buck craved. After that night on the couch it was as if the floodgates had opened—

Bucky remembered and wanted.

Regardless of where they were or what was happening, he wanted to be touching Steve: soft kisses on the cheek and lips, laying his head in Steve’s lap as he read, lacing his fingers between Steve’s during meetings, an arm wrapped around Steve’s waist between bouts of sparring. He’d trace patterns onto Steve’s thigh as he watched Steve draw, press against the line of his back while he cooked dinner.

Steve was floating on a cloud, was in heaven, never happier. It was perfection.

But what Bucky wanted, Steve couldn’t provide, couldn’t meet. Steve was only one man, couldn’t provide Bucky, whom touch had been stolen away from for decades, with everything he wanted. And that was okay, something Steve accepted, because there were other people Bucky could turn to that Steve trusted.

“I’m sure you all know why I asked you to meet with me,” Steve started, choosing a time Bucky was napping to meet with the rest of the group that either lived in or frequented the Tower. “Bucky has shown us a new side of him, has made some progress I think it’s worth discussing with everyone, since we’re all...we’ve all been affected...”

“Uhh, yeah— your Barnes-y boy has been all over me lately. I’m almost offended that everyone else is here to talk to Cap though. Thought he was just comin' onto me.”

“I have to tell you, I didn’t...I know we talked, Steve. But I’m honestly shocked at Bucky’s progress. It’s baffling.”

“I haven’t minded it. He lets me braid his hair.”

“Wait— y’all are getting touches?”

It was a group effort, supporting Bucky in this way. It was an adjustment, Bucky never prompting and questioning before touching or requesting touches— he just went for it. He was quiet still, not shy, merely observant. And just like he nudged at and leaned against Steve until his hands were on him, he did the same to others.

“I just ask that you show Bucky grace during this time. It’s a delicate situation. I need to know if you don’t want his touch or don’t wish to give him any kind of touch. I think it would be best if it came from me instead of from you in the moment.”

Natasha was who Bucky went to for scratches. Steve thinks it’s the nails. Steve also thinks Nat is Bucky’s favorite to go to for touches, even over him, but Bucky refuses to admit it.

When Bucky wants mindless touches, when he wants tickles and scratches, he goes to her. She naturally took to Bucky’s need for touches, the first occurrence one that came without hesitation. She’ll braid his hair, let him turn his head right where he wants her head scratches, naturally reaches for his back or shoulders to run her nails across when he saddles in close to her.

Thor is one of Bucky’s favorites too. Steve isn’t sure if it’s because of his strength or because of his warm and accepting demeanor but Bucky gravitates towards Thor often, mainly for neck and shoulder rubs. One, “James, my friend. You musn’t be afraid of asking for touch with me. I will always be willing to assist,” and that was all Bucky needed to feel comfortable walking over to Thor and nudging at his hands.

He puts his head on Bruce’s shoulder as soon as he can, likes sparring and playing hide and seek with Clint, enjoys putting his feet in Sam’s lap. Tony took some warming up to, but even then Bucky spent many hours in Tony’s lab, Tony guiding his hands, showing him what to do and how to work different machines, the two of them tinkering on his own arm.

Bucky kinda turns into the Tower kitty cat, wandering around quietly, napping in the sun, snacking, demanding affection from anyone he crosses paths with and trusts.

Everyone had their form of touch they shared with Bucky and Bucky absolutely blossomed under this form of support. Steve is forever grateful to be surrounded by a group of understanding individuals.

And every night when he lifts the comforter and feels the solid line of Bucky’s warm form against his side, the arm that now easily and inevitably slips around his waist, the familiar lips that always press against his temple, shoulder, and cheek, Steve is reminded this day was for Bucky and that the one they’ll wake up to will also be for him.

"I love you, Buck."

"Mhmm love you too, pal."

Steve doesn't even mind that Bucky spends his nights snoring in the crook of his neck, hot breath wafting over Steve's skin, hands grabby even as he dreams—

This is heaven.

[asgardwinter]

Lost

summary | Bucky doesn’t need a GPS. Or that’s what he wants to believe.

pairing | TFATWS!Bucky x fem!Reader

warnings | only some curse words, Bucky is a grumpy old man and I love it

word count | 560

author’s note | THIS WAS FUN! I’m having a lot of fun writing these small blurbs, hope you like it as much as I do. It was inspired by these lines.

Feedback is always appreciated and it makes my day!

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Taglist | Main Masterlist

“Where are we, babe?” You asked Bucky when you woke up from the quick nap you took. The glass of the car’s window wasn’t nearly the best pillow.

“On our way to Sam’s, doll.” He said it like it was obvious.

“Please elaborate. This would still be true if you said it hours ago.”

The moment he didn’t reply you knew exactly what was happening.

“We’re lost Buck, aren’t we?”

“No! We’re not lost!” He quickly shot back highly offended.

“Thanks for the confirmation.”

Bucky’s pout was adorable and you knew it was completely unintentional. “Okay, we might be a little bit lost.” He admitted. “But we’ll find the way on the map.”

Nothing could’ve stopped you from rolling your eyes at that.

Why does your boyfriend need to be such a grumpy old man and act exactly like one sometimes? And you loved seeing him getting to settle back into his own self after all he’s been through, but why the damn stubbornness right there in the middle of nowhere?

“Fuck Bucky! Just use the goddamn GPS! It won’t kill you.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t need a GPS? I can handle this with my eyes closed.”

“Don’t you even dare to test this theory!” You warned, imagining you both getting even more lost.

The silence wasn’t pleasant like at the beginning of the trip, so you went to turn up the radio.

“Can you see the map for me, please?” Bucky asked you, making you stop your action.

Quietly, you unfolded the enormous paper that had the route traced in red and started the search to locate wherever you were.

“Thank you.” He said in a lower voice.

You didn’t answer him, bothered by the situation and how he wouldn’t make anything easier. You were tired even after the nap and the actual rest you wanted the most seemed really far to achieve.

“Could you at least stop to ask for directions?” You asked, almost begging it to him.

“No.”

You sighed at his response and continued to look at the map. The moment he turned to a different road that made the sunset visible to you, you smiled at the incredible sight.

“See, doll, that’s a beautiful view and we wouldn't have found it with your stupid GPS.” Bucky bragged.

If looks could kill Bucky Barnes wouldn’t be there anymore, because the way you glared at him would’ve ended his life for sure. “That’s really beautiful and we did find it thanks to you, but can we use the GPS? I’d love to get to Sam’s today.”

For a small moment you thought he would let you use this century’ technology to help him, but it didn’t last long.

“No.” Bucky said, smirking at your bothered face.

“Whatever.” You muttered turning to the radio. “But I’m in charge of the music.”

“You’re going to use this against me, aren’t you?”

“And you ask.” You used that horrible fake evil laugh. “And I’m snitching this to Sam.”

At the mention of his “coworker” Bucky’s eyes widened. He was having fun by irritating you, but now he realized that having you and Sam at the same place making fun of him would be unbearable.

Bucky tried to think of something quick. “Alright, what if we negotiate the GPS, sweetheart?”

“Real smooth, Barnes.”

[sail-not-drift]

Stucky Fic Recs

I’m waiting for my hair dye to develop and have also lost my mind to these two, so here, have some recs. All are amazing. The ones that make me FERAL are bolded, the ones that made my soul ascend have stars.

Dedicated to @neversleepingever and @mygutsforgarters, you heathens.

Dishonor On Your Cow - Shrunkyclunks (but not really, sort of) where Steve and Bucky have a hate at first sight meeting during the Battle of Manhattan and Bucky eventually joins the Avengers for feelings and hilarity.

****He's All That - College AU where frat boy Bucky takes a bet to turn disaster Steve Rogers into the class president but catches feelings instead. 

dance with a ghost - Shrunkyclunks where Bucky moves into an apartment and finds himself haunted by the ghost of Captain America.

Introduction to Fake Dating Your Best Friend 101 - Professors AU, Steve and Bucky are a pair of professors who have to fake date for academic purposes and are real dumb along the way.

Five times Steve kissed Bucky - Pre-serum “fight me” Steve Rogers to post TWS.

To Believe in Tomorrow - Shrunkyclunks AU; Bucky's mornings at the community garden get a little more interesting when the new guy shows up.

Blush Pink - Dirty talking, dom!Bucky PWP.

if all my mistakes (led me to you) - No powers AU, Steve has to scramble to find a plus one for Peggy’s big day after being spontaneously dumped. Bucky is his slutty neighbor.

**Unusual Weather - Tony gives Bucky Asgardian drugs to chill him out while Tony fixes his arm. Steve is there to hold Bucky down. Then Bucky starts dirty talking.

a long way from the playground - Fake dating, no powers AU, Bucky needs to pretend he has a date to Becca’s wedding and blurts out his best friend’s name.

Something Borrowed - In-universe Sam POV AU where Sam, Steve, and Bucky go to Sam’s sister’s wedding.

Bucky Barnes: Sunscreen Assassin - In-universe AU; Steve refuses to wear sunscreen, Bucky takes that as a challenge.

winter wheat, sunflower peat - Powered AU where instead of re-meeting in TWS, Steve meets Bucky as a hitchhiker. ANGST AND FEELS.

**The Daily Rogers - College AU, exchange student Bucky meets Steve “fight me” Rogers, who classmates run a nasty blog about.

No, Mr. Bond, I Expect You to Pine - Secret Agent adversaries-to-lovers AU where the Winter Soldier keeps tying Captain America to walls and sticking around to chat.

Drive It Like You Stole It: A Bodyswap - Steve and Bucky get bodyswapped then go on a magical road trip with Peter Parker; extreme antics and harmless emotional torture for Peter ensue.

Your Lack Of An Answer Is Kind Of An Answer: Four Questions Natasha Asked Steve Rogers, And One Time Bucky Barnes Answered - Beautiful and painful Natasha POV, so many Steve feelings, SO MANY.

Achilles Come Down - You jump, I jump, pre-serum and after.

eros and psyche - Post-TWS, Steve and the Winter Soldier start an affair where the Soldier never lets Steve see his face.

Sparked Up Like a Book of Matches - Beautiful Steve-centric, post-TWS. Sometimes Tony gives him super alcohol in a sippy cup. Sometimes he sees Bucky out of the corner of his eye and wonders if it's real or if he's starting to lose his mind.

Itinerant - Nomad Steve goes wandering the world without the rest of the team to try and find himself while Bucky recovers in Wakanda.

Sweet Relieving - Pre-serum PWP, Steve cross-dresses, Bucky talks DIRTY.

4 Minute Window - Post-TWS, Bucky “kidnaps” Steve and they build a life together.

time on my hands (could be time spent with you) - Nomad Steve runs missions while Bucky recovers in Wakanda and everyone thinks they’re married.

My Working Week and My Sunday Rest - Steve's life after he throws down the shield and hides with Bucky in Wakanda.

Cat Nap - AU where Winter Soldier Bucky and Steve didn’t know each other; Bucky deprograms himself and Steve accidentally steals his cat.

The Size of Perfection - WWII, Steve is shy about how big the serum made his dick. But then there is extreme bittersweet beauty.

Ain't No Grave - Post-TWS (with a pre-TWS prologue) where Bucky accidentally adopts two homeless kids and tries to recover before finding Steve again.

So, You've Adopted a Fruit - Retired Steve and Bucky; Bucky rescues a stray kitten.

Bucky Barnes: on top of the Polls - Steve gets extremely unbalanced during American elections and Bucky both hates and lusts for it.

Together Forever and Ever - PWP, Bucky’s birthday.

Meet-Cute AU's - A gazillion different AUs, heaven on earth.

Lessons in Normality - Shrunkyclunks AU where Steve doesn’t know his normal boyfriend Bucky is a secret agent gathering information on him, Shield, and Hydra.

Pedantic Affectations - Shrunkyclunks AU, Steve is a vigilante badly undercover as a teacher, Bucky is the detective trying to bring him in. Steve in his brilliance decides to throw Bucky off his scent by dating him.

*That Ass (Property of James Barnes) - Bucky is loudly obsessed with Steve’s ass.

Strange Visitor (From Another Time) - Lois and Clark-esque Shrunkyclunks AU; Bucky is a reporter pissed at the new kid in the newsroom who ends up being Captain America.

Snapshots - Post TWS: Steve is trying to find Bucky. Instead, he finds the sexy Navy "propaganda" Bucky somehow never mentioned he modeled for before the war. Painful and profound.

The Roommate - Shrunkyclunks AU, Steve decides not to live in Avengers Tower and instead gets an apartment and finds a one-armed veteran for a roommate.

Side bitch out of your league - Shrunkyclunks AU, Steve misdials Bucky while on a mission. Then misdials him again. Then dials him on purpose.

(760): I literally cut myself out of my pants. Waste. Of. Money. - No powers AU, Bucky texts a random number on Sam’s phone for outfit advice.

Slide To Answer - No powers wrong number AU; Steve misdials Bucky for dating advice, then keeps doing it.

a line that goes all the way. - Recovery in Wakanda pining.

**********they're gonna send us to prison for jerks - Post-TWS, Steve and Sam are undercover and move in next door to a math teacher who looks just like Bucky, but Steve can’t be sure... MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT FIC.

***Siege - Post-TWS AU where Bucky sticks around after pulling Steve from the Potomac and there are some painful and beautiful plot twists and some goddamn PROSE.

a blade with no handle - AU, the Winter Soldier joins the Avengers; identity porn.

Let's Fall in Love - Tony sends Steve and Bucky to a ridiculous fake speakeasy bar, feelings happen.

***Circling Back - Steve looks for Bucky, Bucky finds Steve, Steve tries desperately to put Bucky back together. Bucky tries desperately to let him. ULTIMATE POST-TWS RECOVERY FIC. Avenger family feels.

#TweetMeDaddy - Shrunkyclunks AU; Bucky works for Shield and tweets something that gets flagged as a death threat. It isn’t.

Good Boy - PWP, dom!Steve petplay; Bucky is still adjusting to life with the Avengers, and Steve is willing to do whatever it takes to make him feel comfortable.

[sambuckylibrary]

MOD PICKS

Speak up. by bioloyg

T | 7.2K | n.w.a

"Outer Kiev, repurposed Hydra base, September of 2019. This is right about the time and place that everything goes to shit." ~ Just a little something about boys in love and telepathy fucking things up.

Just a cup of coffee by bioloyg

E | 2.4k | n.w.a

Despite the glass separating them, and the fear that’s rendered Bucky mute, there’s quite an intense conversation that progresses the longer they look at one another. Bucky’s eyes plea for peace and isolation, and Sam’s – they say okay. Sam finishes his sip of whatever the hell is in his cup and just looks away. Maybe that’s why Bucky goes inside anyway.

You’re Blowin’ My Mind (With the Things You Say to Me) by jemgirl

T | 2.1k | c.c.n.t.w

“Now you know I hate to get all in your business,” Sarah said, in lieu of a greeting, as she walked into the kitchen. [..]

“Yeah, since when?” Sam shot back, not even bothering to look up from the table where he was working on Redwing.

“But,” she continued sharply, choosing to ignore his remark. “I think you need to talk to your boyfriend.”

“My what?” He spat, his head snapping up to stare at her. [..]

Or: After getting an earful from Bucky at the cookout, Sarah suggests Sam and Bucky have a chat... and they do.

baby you're the wave and I'm ready for the crash by napricot | Part 1 of Series

E | 6.6k | n.w.a

“Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

The Ever Dwindling Personal Boundaries Between Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes by dendrite_blues

E | 20k | n.w.a

Sam knows he's in trouble the first time he catches a blank stare from Bucky and thinks, dude, if you're that tired take a goddamn nap.

Because that's where he's at now, apparently. Reading the mopey merc's inscrutable expressions like he's fluent in asshole.

Mirror Mirror by ebonpen

E | 5.2k | n.w.a

“I’m gonna fuck you in front of a mirror one day...”

things you never say by glittercake

M | 8.5k | n.w.a

He turns to look at Bucky, grinning, "I dare you."

"No! Literally no!" Bucky looks over his shoulder then back at Sam nervously, keeping his distance, "Have you never heard of Adam and Eve? I'm pretty sure this is exactly how their story went."

"First of all," Sam says, wiggling his eyebrows, "They were naked. Now, listen, I'm game—"

"Oh my god."

"Anyway, chickenshit, watch this."

or, Sam messes around with stuff in the Soul Stone he shouldn't be messing around with and pays the consequences.

Start Me Up And Watch Me Go by Yavannie

E | 3.4k | n.w.a

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, “about your entire car, okay? I’ll tell you what, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“I’ve seen your apartment, Bucky: you don’t have that kind of money.” [..]

“I’ll get a loan,” he says, because he’s not above telling a white lie to keep the bickering going.

“I have. A car,” Sam says, each word sharp and precise.

“What then? What’ll it take to get you to shut up about it?” [..]

"What are you offering?" he asks.

In which Sam brings up the steering wheel thing yet again and Bucky tries to make up for it.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

5 minutes with Bucky

You’d been pinned down behind a crumbling wall for most of the fighting, unable to even attempt to pick off any of the enemy. The sniper covering you was unbelievable.

“Have you been hit?” Sam’s panicked voice came through your earpiece, and you shook your head before realizing he couldn’t see you.

“The sniper is up on the east tower is unrelenting. I can’t move. They even shot my boot,” you complained. “I need you to take them out. You know, in your spare time.”

Sam’s cackle reassured you. “Let me see if Redwing can take them out.” A few seconds later, the unmistakable sound of the drone exploding made your shoulders tense, and then release in defeat.

“I’m on it,” Bucky growled. Bucky was no fan of yours. He treated you like he found you a burden to the team, and was always short with you. You’d say he was cranky about you, but cranky was a description you reserved for toddlers. Your dislike for one another was mutual.

“Don’t put yourself out. I know I’m just deadweight to you, Barnes,” you growled back.

“Easier to get you to walk out than carry out your sorry ass,” he snarled. There was a grunt, and thud and the distinct rapport of his gun. “Sniper is dead. The sooner you contribute to this clusterfuck, the sooner we can leave.”

You scrabbled up to your knees and peered over the wall, and thankfully, no shots came from the east tower. You dashed between obstacles, keeping hidden, until you were back to the main action, and quickly picked off a few goons. You heard the enemy trying to sneak up on you, but weren’t fast enough to stop the blade that slipped into your back with enough force to prevent you from crying out. Thankfully, your instinct wasn’t to collapse, but shoot the bastard. He slumped at your feet behind you, pulling the blade from your back as he fell. Your tac jacket was tight enough that it compressed the wound, and you fought on until you were able to escape back to the extraction point.

XXX

When the helicopter arrived, you pushed yourself off the tree you were leaning against and dropped heavily onto the floor of the vehicle, grimacing.

“Get us out of here, Sam,” you groaned.

“Hard day’s work, princess?” Bucky rolled his eyes. You flipped him the finger and closed your eyes, trying to think about anything other than the pain in your back.

XXX

“Go hit the showers,” Sam suggested when you landed. You nodded and pushed yourself to your feet, stumbling across the helipad toward door to the stairs. You faltered a little on the top stair, but made your way down to your floor and into your room before you peeled off your uniform and headed toward the shower. You stunk, the mixed fragrance of sweat, blood and whatever chemicals had been in the plant clinging to your skin. 

You turned the shower on and stepped in, the heat making you dizzy. You slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind you, and closed your eyes. Just a quick nap in the warmth of the shower, and you would feel tip-top again.

XXX

Bucky squinted in the mark on the floor inside the helicopter. There was a dark stain where you’d been laying. He reached down with his bare hand and rubbed his fingers across the sticky fluid, holding it up to his face. It smelled metallic. It only took a split second to realize it was blood. Your blood.

“Sam! She somehow got hit!” He took off at a run, skipping three and four stairs at a time as he vaulted down to your floor. Using his left side, he smashed through your door. He only paused long enough to hear the shower running, and notice the absence of your usual offkey singing before dashing toward the bathroom.

He pushed into the shower stall and found you. Your blood pooled around the drain, mixing with the water and you were pale. You looked so close to death, he didn’t even notice your nudity, scooping you up in his arms.

You roused just for a moment. “Bucky?”

“Why didn’t you say you’d been hit?” He growled, looking in the mirror to figure out where the blood was coming from. He pressed a towel against the wound and carried you out of your rooms, heading in the direction of the infirmary.

“Buck, I’m naked,” you mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“Why aren’t you? I bet you look amazing. All those muscles. Your abs especially. You should be naked if I’m naked. It’s only fair.” You were rambling. Bucky’s heart jerked, panicking. Rambling was bad.

“Sweetheart, you’re injured.” His voice vibrated against your chest and you leaned into him. 

“Just be gentle then,” you murmured before losing consciousness completely.

XXX

It was overwhelmingly bright, making you think maybe you were dead and in some cosmic waiting room. You opened one eye, and squinted against the brightness. You tried to reach up to rub your face, and got caught on something, a sharp quick pain to your hand making you flinch.

“Ow, fuck.”

“You gave us a scare, kid.” Sam’s voice was smooth and soothing.

“I got stabbed.”

“I know,” he laughed. “Hold tight, I’m gonna go get Bucky.”

“Why?” 

“Dude is over 100, and you scared another twenty years off him,” Sam laughed. “He’ll want to know you’re awake.”

You opened your eyes and took in the infirmary room. You found the controls on the bed and raised your head, squirming up a little so you weren’t so uncomfortable. You hadn’t noticed Sam leave until Bucky dashed in. 

When he saw you sitting up, he stopped and walked the rest of the way to the bedside slowly. He dropped into the seat Sam had vacated and stared you down.

“You should have told us.” His opening was on point.

“As if you care.” There was a cup full of ice chips on your overbed table, and you took a mouthful

“You’re a goddamn idiot, you know that?” he snapped. You choked on your ice, and he jumped up, leaning you forward to pound on your back. You pulled out of his hold, still coughing and threw the cup at him.

“Jesus, Barnes, if you hate me so fucking much, why are you even here?” You pushed him away and he fell back into the chair, looking surprised and hurt.

“Who said I hate you?” He asked, his voice quiet, and for the first time probably ever, gentle. 

“Every goddamn mission we go on, you treat me like I’m deadweight that you have to babysit. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you can’t stand me. What I can’t figure out is if it’s because I’m a woman, and you’re some oldtimey gentleman misogynist or if it’s something about me specifically,” you snapped. “You should leave, Barnes. I’m tired.”

Bucky shook his head and leaned forward. “I’m only going to say this once, so make sure you’re listening, princess.”

You closed your eyes, for some reason wanting to cry. “I don’t hate you. You take unnecessary risks in order to prove yourself when you really have nothing to prove, and that scares me. You’re more frustrating than Stevie was. You do crazy shit, and suddenly I can’t breathe because I think you’re going to die.”

You opened your eyes, narrowing them as he spoke.

“And maybe I am a backward old man? I don’t think I am? Nat’s probably the best assassin I’ve ever seen, and she’s a woman. And the Dora, the Dora are the best military unit in the world hands down. I think it’s just you. You bring it out in me -”

“I bring out your World War Two sexist dames are just for keeping at home shit?” You interrupted. Bucky laughed.

“No, princess, you don’t get it. I want to protect you. I want to make sure you come home,” he sighed.

“Why?”

“So that maybe someday I can tell you how much you mean to me,” he blurted out.

“And why would you tell me now?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“When I carried you here, you told me you wanted to see me naked. I figure, no one wants to see someone they hate naked, so maybe you have some complicated feelings too,” he shrugged. A single tear rolled down your cheek, and he reached over to wipe it away. “I was scared you might die. And I’d never told you. And you’re the first dame- first woman I’ve felt like this about since I can’t remember when, and -”

“Do you think there’s enough room in this bed for you to climb in?” you interrupted. He dropped his sweatshirt on the chair and kicked off his shoes. You wiggled a little trying to make space for you. He slid in beside you and tucked his arm up behind your neck, allowing you to curl into him.

“We’re idiots, Buck,” you murmured, laying a hand on his chest. He grasped the hand in his and brought it to his mouth, gently kissing your palm.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Merely Players (Bucky x Clint)

Community theater AU! For my Winterhawk Bingo square “Captain America!Clint/Winter Soldier!Bucky.” 

Word Count: ~1700

Rating: PG

Absolute fluffy silliness with lots of cameos. I just needed a break from working on Sweet Home Was Home, tbh, and I’ve had this idea in the back of my head for a while. There will probably be at least two more parts to this, because I started mentally casting the show and couldn’t not write it all out. It’s full-on meta madness and I love it.   

Bucky flips through the script, increasingly baffled. The margins are already full of Steve’s tidy cursive notes. 

“Who the fuck wrote this shit?” he asks, scanning the page. 

“Isn’t it interesting?” Steve says happily. “You want coffee?” 

“I had one beer and I live three minutes away, Steve,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Interesting is… not the word I would’ve chosen. No offense to Peggy, I’m sure the songs are fantastic, but this is fucking bizarre. Superheroes? Brainwashing? Who came up with this shit?” 

“The playwright’s name is Nicholas Fury, but I think that’s a pseudonym, because I can’t find anything about him online. It was Stark’s call, though. Apparently he has some personal investment in getting this staged, he’s funding the whole damn thing.” 

“So… it’s somebody’s vanity project?” 

“No,” Steve says huffily. “C’mon, you really don’t want to audition? You used to love theater!” 

“In high school. Before I got blown up.” 

“It’ll be good for you to get out a bit. Make some new friends.” 

Bucky ignores that and flips through a few more pages. “These names are fuckin’ absurd, even for goddamn superheroes. And how the hell are you going to stage these stunts? You want somebody flying around on webs?” 

“That’s where Tony really comes in,” Steve says excitedly. “He’s offering to pay for all the construction, but also, the guy is a genius. I’ve never met him but I saw a video of this thing he did for last year’s Fringe Festival, he made a robot that actually moved around the stage.” 

Okay, that does sound cool. But still. 

“The lead is named Captain America, for fuck’s sake.” 

“Sam’s auditioning, did I tell you that?” 

“Oh boy,” Bucky says flatly. 

“You guys are going to get along great once you actually talk to each other. And Thor! You liked Thor, right?” 

Bucky shrugs. “We only met that once. But yeah, sure.” It’s very hard not to like the self-proclaimed God of Lighting. 

“Do you remember Natasha Romanoff? She moved back to the area last year, she’s the choreographer.” 

“Course I do. It’ll be nice to see her.” 

“It’s gonna be great, Buck. Will you be my assistant director, at least?” Steve wheedles. “C’mon, I don’t care what you’re doing, I just want you around for moral support. Please?” 

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But there’s no way in hell you’re getting me on a stage.” 

Famous last words.  

Clint spots a few familiar faces when he walks in. The Maximoffs are in one corner, talking to Sam, who gives Clint a grin. Jessica is sitting on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, arms crossed, completely still — she looks like she’s just judging everybody silently from behind her massive sunglasses, but Clint knows her well enough to guess that she’s napping off a hangover. Eddie is sitting with his back to the wall, squinting up at the ceiling blearily — and you’d think he was hungover, or maybe still drunk, but that’s just how he always looks, as far as Clint can tell. 

Kate waves from another corner, where she’s stretching with Yelena. 

“Where’ve you been?” she asks. “They should be starting any minute now.” 

“A wizard is never late, Kate Bishop,” he tells her. She raises a judgmental eyebrow in the direction of his venti extra-whip frappuccino. 

Also, he thought auditions started at 11, not 10. Oops. 

When they head into the theater, Nat’s leaning against the side of the stage chatting with Steve and a guy Clint doesn’t know. The part of his face that Clint can see involves a really fucking pretty jawline, which Clint would like to lick, pleaseandthankyou. 

He catches Nat’s eye. She raises an eyebrow in his direction, giving him a little wave, and the pretty dude turns as well, revealing a fucking fantastic face. 

Clint maybe trips over his own feet because he’s too busy staring, but at least he doesn’t drop his Starbucks. 

“Put your eyes back in your head, Barton,” Yelena tells him. 

“Save me a seat? I’m gonna go say hi to Nat.” 

“You mean get the dirt on Cheekbones?” Kate teases, and he flips her off over his shoulder. 

Nat meets him halfway. 

“I don’t think I know that guy,” Clint says, totally casual. Natasha follows the line of his gaze and smirks. 

“James? Steve’s best friend. Better known as Bucky. We dated, way back when. He broke my heart.” 

“Wait, really?” Clint says incredulously. 

“Mm. Asked for his ring back and everything. Very sad.” 

“Oh.” 

Well, shit. He’s never actually heard Nat admit to anybody breaking her heart. He immediately vows to hate the guy. Figures that the cute ones are always straight, assholes, or both. 

Steve jumps up from his chair and starts gesticulating wildly at another guy Clint’s never met. 

“Who’s that?” Clint asks. 

“The guy with the sunglasses is Matt Murdock, our vocal coach. And the other guy is Tony Stark. In the two hours I’ve known him, he’s made three stupid jokes about Matt being blind, so I’m gonna guess that right there is the aftermath of number four.” 

“Matt doesn’t seem to mind,” Clint observes. Matt is in fact muttering something to Bucky under his breath that is making Bucky smirk like a motherfucker, and Clint chokes on his own tongue a little bit. That smirk might kill him. 

“No, he’s very… patient,” Natasha says, with the absolute faintest hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. “But you know Steve.”  

“Patient, huh?” Clint asks gleefully. She elbows him. “Ow.” 

“There may be some appeal to the idea of a guy who doesn’t stare at my tits all day.” 

Fair enough.

Steve’s working himself up into full righteous fury mode, and Clint watches bemusedly as Stark laughs in his increasingly red face. 

“Twenty says they fuck at the closing party,” Clint says. 

“My money’s on tech night,” Natasha replies. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go intervene before Steve does something stupid. Break a leg.” 

If Tony fucking Stark says one more fucking word, Steve might punch him in his stupid pretty mouth. Asshole. 

“I’m telling you, it’s gotta be Wilson,” Stark says. 

“And I’m telling you, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve snaps. 

“Steve’s right,” Natasha says quietly, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. “Sam is great, but there’s no menace in him.” 

Stark’s bouncing his knee so fast it looks like he’s vibrating. Nat reaches out slowly and takes his coffee out of his hand, raising an eyebrow. Stark opens his mouth to argue and then clearly thinks better of it, so maybe he’s not quite as dumb as he looks. 

“Fuck. Maybe I could convince Banner to audition?” Steve says, without much real hope. 

“There’s no way in hell, Steve,” Natasha says, rolling her eyes. “Behind the scenes only, he made it very clear.” 

“What about Parker? He’s the only other one who can sing worth a damn,” Stark says. 

“You’re shittin’ us, right?” Bucky asks bluntly.

“What’s wrong with that idea? Granted, with the difference in height and muscle mass, a fight between him and Barton might be challenging, but Loki is great at body painting, and —”

“It’d look stupid as shit,” Bucky interrupts. Steve manages to turn his laugh into a snort. 

“What about you, James?” Murdock says thoughtfully. Everybody turns to look at him. 

“What the fuck about me?” Bucky growls. He casts a furtive look back to where Barton’s sitting; then he turns bright red and looks even angrier, which Steve recognizes as a sure sign that Bucky’s got a crush.

“Steve said you have a wonderful voice.” 

“Did you pay him to say this?” Bucky asks Steve furiously. “Because I swear —” 

Murdock laughs. “No, he most definitely did not.” 

“It’s worth a try, at least,” Natasha says. 

“Et tu, Nat?” 

She gives him a look. “James.”

Bucky holds eye contact for all of two seconds before letting off a string of curses in Russian. Steve resists the urge to jump up and down. 

Clint’s been her best friend for years now, but Natasha’s still amazed by what he can do, sometimes. Off-stage, he can’t take two steps without tripping. On-stage, he’s a force of nature. 

James is brilliant, too, but what really sells it is the chemistry between the two of them; it’s just a read-through, but the energy is electric. There’s this fire in Clint’s eyes that he only manages in real life when he hears about somebody mistreating an animal. 

He’s a marshmallow, but he’s her marshmallow. 

As for James… well, he’s also a marshmallow; he just hides it exceptionally well. 

There isn’t much of a difference between the Soldier he’s playing and the one Steve has talked about seeing since James was discharged. It can’t be an easy thing to live with, but it’s a hell of a thing to watch onstage; Natasha feels a pang of sympathy at the wounded, haunted look in his eyes. He prowls forward, advancing on “Captain America,” physically menacing in spite of the emotion in his face, and Clint clenches his jaw in a silent dare. 

“Holy sexual tension, Batman,” Stark comments under his breath, and if Natasha didn’t find him so incredibly irritating, she’d agree out loud.

“Barnes is strong, isn’t he?” Murdock says quietly to Natasha’s left. His head is tilted like he’s deep in thought. 

“Very,” she says. “How can you tell?” 

“I have my ways.” He’s wearing this tiny smug smile that’s entirely too intriguing. 

“Remember that time in Kindergarten when you beat him up?” Steve says fondly. 

“How could I forget? He proposed as soon as he stopped crying.” 

“What did you say?” Murdock asks. 

“I told him to come back with a blue raspberry Ring Pop,” Natasha says. “And he did. But then he decided he wanted to eat it, so that was that.” 

“Ah, young love.” 

[nochiquinn]

campaign 3 episode 16: imogen’s bacon

no YOU took a pain nap and overslept

that's right they find the fucking broodmother last time

why am I just picturing the fly boss from the binding of issac

I think that's the second time in two weeks I've referenced binding of issac

I didn't ask how big the room is I said I cast fireball

matt's homemade maps had charm but I also really like what he does with all the free (?) heroforge pieces

something something dead by daylight flashlight

I took exactly long enough to go wash my face and we're already at marisha chairperch??

"it's not for fun!"

something something dead by daylight hooks

guess what game mala just got me into

is it weird I love matt's "poison" sfx

liam you stupid honest bastard

slug farts

slug sharts

slug shart damage

"too much, liam" "at THIS table?"

"that ship has sailed"

MIND CONTROL SLUG SHART?

okay ed elric

STONKY

liam making an excuse to run around the table and touch everybody

"so nervous for her and I hate her"

WRONG LEVER

I never thought I'd see a literal Rocks Fall Everyone Dies

Jalopy Matt

n i c e

N I C E

liam is so creative in combat istg

rip rope

"I'm having a CRISIS"

ICE HAMMER

ashley's insanely tiny dice

"a SHIM? yeah I'll just PREP a SHIM"

poor marisha

LICK SALT, FUCKER

did travis just say "orym goes for laudna's sloppy seconds"

katamari fearne

!!!!!

he's hackin and whackin and smackin

"this is fine"

this is a Buried statement

"I swear I thought you died down there" "I lived, bitch"

is. is sam stuttering naturally or is fcg fucked up.

GOD when imogen gets all dark/threatening/quiet with the accent

we don't need no stinking patches

miss laura miss laura can we have rl patches

HEY I took down my CR stuff, leave me out of this

he IS fucked up

you can't pour from an empty fcg

but he made this one SPECIAL

"unless you hired a nurse to make sure you don't die in the middle of the night"

t r a v i s

"how huRT. HOW HURT ARE YOU"

poor matt

"does he do this all the time? quietly suffer?"

"don't think about my old friends more than I do, that's not healthy"

"rocks fall, everyone dies"

orym :(

fcg :(

"weird"

"anything worth doing should not be done quickly"

intervention switch

ashton and fcg are one of my favorite dynamics

robot alka-seltzer

🎶you had a bad day🎶

marisha is so fucking physical as laudna, I love her

"I feel oddly comforted, and it disturbs me"

"that was pretty good advice for being basically no fucking advice"

travis breathe

hey. hey marisha get off my rural small town feels.

jflskdjflsk TRAVIS

sleepover in fcg's room

laura having pregnancy bladder flashbacks

ashton has exploding head syndrome canon

a new hand touches the beacon

"you know something, you - fucking - goddamn travis"

laura no

laura catching Push The Big Red Button Disease from her husband

MATTHOLOMEW

fearNE

love a good post-credit

[mccall-me-maurice]

do you uh have any mauram or rogermon headcannons you could spare 👉👈

OH HELL YEAH HOMIE IM HERE TO FEED THE MASSES

Rogermon:

1) Roger doesn’t really enjoy botany, but the way Simon talks about different flowers and their meanings is worth it to him, so he listens to every word Simon says

2) Roger has a cat (Nastya) and the cat hates everyone except for Simon, and it’s because Roger hates everyone… except for Simon.

3) Roger gets nervous and will draw on Simon’s hand with pen, so he has ink designs all up his arm that Roger can then trace when the skin is full of designs

4) Simon takes a lot of naps because he gets exhausted really easily and Roger is his pillow 100% of the time

5) Roger will buy Simon. so much shit thats sentimental. Simon mentioned something 3 years ago that he really wanted? Bought. Simon has a favourite childhood book? Bought and signed by the author. Simon mentioned once 8 years ago that his favourite flower was the poppy? A whole ass bouquet.

6) Roger and Simon volunteer at animal shelters together because it makes Simon feel good and therefore, it makes Roger feel good.

7) Simon is fluent in Spanish and Roger is fluent in Russian so they’re slowly learning each other’s mother tongues to make life just a little easier.

8) Simon regularly visits the doctor due to his epilepsy and Roger goes with him every time because Simon gets really anxious and needs something to hold. It’s usually Roger’s hand.

9) Roger is very protective over Simon! You can’t say bad shit about him because Roger will absolutely come for you.

10) While they have very different music taste, there’s a couple of songs that remind them of each other and when they are far apart, or just missing each other, they go into a call and put the songs on repeat and just sit in silence with each other.

Mauram:

1) OHOHOHOHOGO Sam is really introverted and Maurice is extroverted, so it leads to some miscommunication. But because of Sam’s anxiety with talking to people (and just anxiety in general), Maurice made an entire “calm down” playlist for Sam!

2) They’re both whores for christmas and Maurice puts up mistletoe on every square inch of the Pinch’s house and it annoys the shit out of Eric but Sam will take one step and Maurice is like: i guESs wE hAvE tO kiSs nOw

3) Sam falls asleep to Maurice’s voice every night, whether it be on a phone call or with Maurice physically there. He usually just relays his day and how much he loves Sam.

4) Maurice defends Sam against the choirs dumbass antics because he’s like: fuck you, my boyfriend is the BEST goddamn thing on this PLANET and the choir is like: pls relax, put on ur calm down playlist pls

5) Maurice looks at Sam every time he tells a joke just to make sure Sam is laughing. And then he’ll laugh along.

6) Sam is really smart with things like science and math and Maurice is really smart with things like history and physics so it leads to very interesting study sessions together, that usually end in Sam sleeping on Maurice.

7) Sam makes Maurice skip class and stay in bed when he feels really upset or just in general exhausted and Maurice doesn’t even think twice about it, he just does it.

8) hahahahahah this fic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054892) goes with the headcanon. Maurice buys Sam lemonade and Twix on his birthday every year (along with other shit) and Sam always ends up SOBBING

9) Sam steals so many of Maurice’s hoodies and sweaters that Maurice buys two of everything so that Sam can have one and he can have one.

10) Sam’s hands are always cold and Maurice is generally always warm so Sam will stick his hands under Maurice’s shirt just to warm himself up and Maurice will scREAM because Sam is so gd cold

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 15

A/N: Phew this was a long ass chapter to write! Feedback is greatly appreciated lovelies! That way I know I’m doing this right. 😂 I hope you all have a lovely day! Mwah!

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, blood, scars, brief mention of past trauma and torture

The world seemed dimmer as you sat there on the ground with your back leaned against the metal container, your hand clutched to your aching side from where the bullet had managed to pierce your skin. The bottom of your shirt was soaked with your ichor as you groaned from the sharp pain, your breathing uneven as you looked up to the skies. This had never happened to you before, this wasn’t supposed to happen. With tear stained cheeks, your thoughts focused on your daughter Athena. You couldn’t die, not now. Not when you have your daughter waiting at home for you, no matter how much you wanted to see your family and your beloved violinist. After all the years of heartbreak and wishing to be just as mortal as everyone else, your daughter was the only thing that added color to your life, gave you hope and had you looking forward to the future. No, you were not going to die. You weren’t going to leave your daughter alone in this cold world the same way you were left alone. You were going to be there for her, raise her and watch her grow up. Watch her go to school and graduate, then live out her dreams and aspirations. You absolutely refused to die.

“Gods please.” You choked out, squeezing your eyes shut against the tears that flowed down your cheeks. “Mother, father, uncle, if you can hear me. Wherever you may be resting. Please, not now.” For the first time in many years, you felt like a child, scared and hurt, only this time you were alone, not a single member of your family left that you could turn to.

Lifting up your shirt with a hiss, you stared at the wound right below your rib cage off to the side of your stomach, blood pouring out of the bullet hole with each slight movement. “Fuckin shit. Fuck!” You knocked your head back against the metal container. Sooner or later the guys would be worried about your absence and would come looking for you, and you did not want them to find you like this. If only you could remember the damn healing spell or had any of your healing herbs with you. Ripping off the inner lining of your leather jacket, you tied the strip of fabric around your midsection, tightening it to stop the bleeding until you got somewhere where you could fully tend to the wound. With a deep breath you pushed yourself off the floor with a pained grunt, still leaning against the container for support as you zipped up your leather jacket to hide your soaked shirt. Your vision became blurry from the movement as you straightened up and cleaned your hands off, putting away your sword in your bag before starting to head off to find the guys, each step making you more exhausted than the last. But you kept your posture and pushed through, refusing to succumb to defeat. You turned the corner and a small load was taken off your shoulders, relieved to have found the group safe and without an injury. Thank the gods.

“Y/n!” Sam rushed towards you once he saw you heading in their direction. “Where were you? You nearly had us searching the whole damn place.”

“I was off fighting bad guys off course.” You rolled your eyes, trying your best to keep your composure despite your injury.

“You okay?” Sam stood in front of you with his hands on your shoulders as he searched your face. “You look sick.”

“I’m fine.” You faked a yawn. “I just could use a nap. And some food.”

“You sure?” Sam raised his brow, unsure of your answer.

“Of course Sam. I’m practically bulletproof remember?” You smiled at him before giving him a pat. You smiled at Sharon and went over to Bucky, giving him a pat on the back as well. “Good job guys.”

“Well I don’t know if I’d call that a good job.” Bucky retorted before looking at you once more and studying your face. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t look too good, and you’re sweating.”

“Yes, for the hundredth time yes. I’m fine. And gods can sweat too by the way, we’re not made of plastic.” You added with a quirked brow before looking around. “Where’s Zemo?”

Just as you finished your question you saw Zemo pull up in a classic convertible with a smirk on his face. “Supercharged.”

“Where the hell did you get a car?” You furrowed your brows at him. “You found it didn’t you.”

“You’re going back to jail.” Sam noted, obviously done with Zemo’s antics.

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” Zemo sighed at them before looking over at you, raising his brow as he noticed how your skin had slightly lost color and looked sickly, as if you had a fever, though you stood as if nothing was wrong with you.

“He's right. We need him. And there's two of us, and at least 20 of them. Come on.” Bucky added as he hopped in the front passenger seat.

“Fine.” Sam glared at Zemo as he got in the backseat. “But if you try that shit again...”

“I wouldn't dream of it.” Zemo replied as he watched you get in the back from the rear view mirror.

You hesitated, eyeing the pristine white seats with shifting eyes. Shit. You didn’t want to get them dirty and you definitely did not want them to notice you were bleeding. With a silent prayer that you didn’t mess up the seats with your blood, you slid in the backseat next to Sam right behind Zemo, trying not make a strained face from the movement. Zemo had noticed this, how you were extremely careful in getting in his car, and he wondered what went wrong with you to act this way. It looked as if you almost didn’t want to get in. Your behavior was strange.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” Sharon commented as she stood by the car.

“Come back to the States with us.” Sam offered her.

“I told you I can't. Just get me that pardon you promised me.” Sharon mentioned before walking away.

“You're not gonna move your seat up, are you?” Sam glared at the back of Bucky’s head.

“No.”

“Can you kids chill out? Don’t make me put you on time-out.” You muttered, grabbing your sunglasses out of your jacket pocket and putting them on. You were starting to get a massive headache from your wound and the sunlight was not helping at all, only blinding you at the moment.

“Hey, don’t call us kids.” Sam glared at you.

“I’m 23,000 years old. I’ll call you kids whenever I goddamn want.” You leaned back in your seat, only to have Bucky and Sam look at you with an offended frown while Zemo smirked before driving away.

You had arrived at the landing strip where Zemo’s jet was. Being careful to get out of the car, you looked back at your seat in relief to see that it was still clean, not a drop of your blood on it. Oeznik greeted you all as you came in. And as you glanced at the seats of the jet, you rolled your eyes as you pushed your sunglasses up on your head. You forgot the seats of Zemo’s jet were also light colored. With a sigh you sat down, being careful not to move too much that would cause you to lose more blood. You don’t know how you had managed to last that long with a wound like that.

“Would you like anything to drink miss?” Oeznik approached you, asking you in Russian.

“Water is fine thank you.” You answered back in Russian as you smiled politely at him. You could really use a glass of cold water right now. Your wound was not only making you exhausted, it was also making you extremely dehydrated.

“I didn’t know you can speak Russian.” Zemo commented when he heard you speak.

“Perks of being a Greek god.” You turned to face Zemo in front of you. “We can speak all languages.”

Oeznik came back with your glass and you thanked him, downing the glass in one sitting. The cool water felt harsh against your dry throat that felt like the Sahara dessert, as if you were swallowing sharp shards of ice. The glass of water did nothing to quench what seemed to be a never ending thirst, you could have chugged down a 5 gallon jug of water but it still wouldn’t have provided you any relief. You wanted desperately to ask for another glass and another after that, but you couldn’t let the guys get suspicious. You didn’t want to delay their mission and have them be worried about you, there was already enough on their minds. So you slid your sunglasses back on, ignoring the anxiety, the pain, the weariness, and the uncontrollable thirst as you leaned back to get into as much of a comfortable position as you could get. “I’m going to take a quick nap. So if you three could not argue like a pack of chihuahuas, that would be great.” You noted before closing your eyes.

“We don’t-“

“Shhhhh Sam. Thank you.” You mumbled as you struggled to fall asleep, the symptoms you were feeling only getting more severe. The sooner you landed and found a place to rest, the sooner you could tend to your wound.

“Is she okay?” Bucky whispered to Sam.

“Yeah, she gets like that when she doesn’t get her nap.”

“I heard that.” You announced with your eyes still closed.

“I thought you were going to sleep.” Sam looked at you.

“I’m in the process.” You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest as you shifted in your seat, soon drifting off to sleep.

When you woke back up, you noticed that the plane was already starting to land. “So where are we landing?” You grumbled as you sat up in the seat, feeling more drained than before despite the nap you took. You rubbed your eyes from under your sunglasses, adjusting your vision to look out the window and seeing the clouds pass as you declined towards the earth.

“Riga, Latvia.” Zemo answered your question.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked you once he saw that you were awake.

“Almost there.” You lied. “Once I get some food in my stomach and a proper night’s sleep, not a nap, to recharge, I’ll be like brand new.”

Once the plane landed, you got up and checked the seat again with a quick glance, it seemed as if luck was on your side, in a strange and twisted away. The seat was clean. You thanked Oeznik on your way out of the plane and followed Zemo into the streets of Riga, glancing around at the European architecture. The four of you received a few stares as you went, making you lower your head and hide your face behind the strands of your hair.

“I heard what became of Sokovia.” Zemo spoke. “Cannibalized by its neighbors before the land was cleared of rubble, erased from the map. I don’t suppose any of you bothered visiting the memorial? Of course not. Why would you?”

You winced at the jab Zemo made towards Sam and Bucky. Something told you Zemo hadn’t meant it towards you. Did he know you were there? You had visited the memorial once before with Wanda. At the time, you couldn’t help but feel guilty, despite your efforts to stay back after the defeat of Ultron to help clean up and find any remaining survivors. You, a Greek goddess, couldn’t even save the country from collapsing or the man you once loved. Who’s to say you can save your daughter if anything were to happen to her?

“We are here.” Zemo announced as he stopped at a building.

“I’m gonna go on a walk.” Bucky mentioned.

“You good?” Sam asked him.

You looked towards Bucky, silently asking him if he needed anything.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll see you guys in a bit.” Bucky nodded before heading off.

You watched him walk away with a raised brow, something was bothering him. You heard the sound of keys and turned back to see Zemo unlocking the door to a building, revealing a small flight of stairs.

“This way.” Zemo gestured. “We should stay the night here before heading off to find Madani first thing tomorrow.”

Fuck. You weren’t sure if you had enough strength left. You stared at the steps as Sam and Zemo went up.

“Y/n. You coming?” Sam called out to you, making you look up at him.

“Uh yeah.”

“Hey, are you sure you’re good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You nodded with a feigned smile before heading up the stairs behind them, using everything in you to not collapse right then and there as your side burned with each step. Halfway up the stairs you were hit with vertigo, clutching your head as the world around seemed to sway along with you.

“Y/n?” You heard Sam’s voice, muffled by the throbbing that grew in your head.

Your body leaned backwards, just about to fall down the flight of stairs before a pair of arms grabbed you. You fell limp into Sam’s arms as he stared down at you with wide eyes, searching your clammy face for any signs of what could be wrong.

“Y/n? Y/n answer me!” Sam held you with panic in his voice, your body felt frail and cold in his warm arms, making his concern and worry only grow.

“Quick.” Zemo affirmed as he opened to door to his place. “We need to get her in.”

Sam picked you up, your head falling back limp as he carried you up the stairs.

“Quick. Set her down over there.” Zemo nodded towards the couch in the living room before closing the door behind him, watching Sam go over and lay you down as gently as he could. A sense of perturbation filled within Zemo as he saw you there. In the few days that he had known you, he had grown accustomed to seeing you always standing strong, your head held high and and a look on your face that meant you were ready for whatever troubles that may lay themselves on your path. He had gotten used to seeing you as the immortal daughter of Zeus himself, the princess of Olympus. Yet here you were, laid out on the couch in front of him, looking mortal and frail. It looked as if death itself was hovering just centimeters from your body, ready to snatch your soul and leave nothing but an empty vessel behind.

“What is wrong with her?” Zemo asked quietly as he moved over to where Sam was crouched by your side.

“I......I don’t know.” Sam shook his head as he tried to check your pulse before pausing, his eyes growing dark. “She’s.....dying.”

“What?” Zemo replied, his voice louder this time. This couldn’t be happening, Sam had to have made a mistake. You used to rule the Underworld alongside Hades. You were the one that guided the souls there. And after what happened, you were left to rule the dead on your own. How could you, goddess and ruler of the Underworld, die?

As you laid there, cold and sweating with what felt like your whole body was on fire, and your mind spinning from the vertigo, you felt Sam’s hands move towards the zipper of your jacket. You grabbed his wrist before he could touch you, pulling his hand away from your body.

“Don’t.” You breathed out, straining to open your eyes as you looked at him, only to see a blur of his figure.

“Y/n. What the hell is going on?”

“Don’t touch me.” You rasped out, licking your lips from how dry they felt.

“Y/n.”

“Don’t make me force you Sam. I’m fine. I just need some sleep.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Sam glared at you, wishing you weren’t so stubborn even in a state like this. “I’m going to remove your jacket to try and see what is wrong.”

“Don’t.” You squeezed your eyes shut as you groaned from the pain in your side.

“Y/n.” Sam’s voice was stern. “I checked your pulse. Don’t give me that shit. What the hell is going on?”

You sighed, not wanting to look at Sam in the eyes. You heard the door click open and saw Bucky walking in, his eyes trained on you. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You whispered.

“No she’s not fine.” Sam sighed as he turned towards Bucky, trying his best to stay calm in a situation like this. “Her pulse is weak.” Sam couldn’t help but feel that he was to blame for this. He let you go on this mission with him, and now you were injured, on the brink of death with your daughter still at home expecting your return. He promised Athena he would bring you home safe.

“Her pulse is weak? What do you mean?” Bucky furrowed his brows as he rushed over to where you were.

“It means what it means.” Sam looked away, his heart wrenching form the thought of what might become of you.

“Sam said she might be dying.” Zemo uttered, his eyes trained on the floor at his feet, he still didn’t want to believe what Sam had said. He wanted to be by your side, to hold your hand. But how could he with Sam and James there? A part of him wanted to do it anyways, despite what the two thought, but he couldn’t. He knew you wouldn’t allow him.

“Dying?” Bucky looked at him in anger from the words that came from him, grabbing Zemo by the collar of his coat. “The hell are you talking about? How can she be dying?”

“Can you guys cut it out?” You said louder this time, making the men turn to you, they couldn’t exactly tell what you were going through. But to you it felt as if your head would split open in any moment. “Y’all talk too damn much.” There was no point in trying to hide your situation now. With a groan and using every last bit of strength you had left, you pulled yourself up to a seating position, struggling in taking your jacket off before tossing it down on the floor.

“What the hell is on your shirt?” Sam knitted his brows together as he reached over to touch the golden liquid that stained your shirt, unsure of what the strange substance was.

“I said don’t touch me!” You shouted as you swatted Sam’s hand away.

“Wha-y/n what the hell is on your shirt?”

“..............It’s my blood, or ichor. It’s......extremely toxic to mortals, which is why I specifically said to not touch me.” You spoke with labored breaths as you leaned back on the couch.

“Your blood?” Bucky’s eyes widened. “Why are you bleeding? And why is it gold?”

“Not everyone bleeds red James.” You rolled your eyes.

“...........lift your shirt.” Sam ordered you.

“Sam-“

“I’m not gonna ask again y/n. I know you don’t want us to go near you. But I at least need to see what the hell is going on in the first place.”

You hesitated, your lips firm as you stared down at the ground. Not only were they going to see your wound, they were going to see the scars on your back as well, and there was nothing you could do about it. With a sigh, you grabbed the bottom of your shirt, peeling it off your skin since some of your blood had dried and stuck to your torso. Wincing as you did so, you lifted your shirt up to the bottom of your sports bra and untied the strip of fabric around your stomach, revealing the bullet wound underneath.

“You’ve been shot? But how?” Sam knitted his brows together. “I thought you were bulletproof.”

Once Zemo received a view of your wound, the blood within his veins burned with rage. He tried his hardest not to go out there right now and kill whoever had managed to put you in such a condition. You had a bullet imbedded in you this whole time, suffering, nearly bleeding to death and he hadn’t noticed. Why did you keep this from them?

“I’m supposed to be bulletproof Sam. I did not expect to be taken down by some bootleg Duane Chapman. But don’t worry, he’s dead.”

“But how?” Bucky asked you, your reaction to being shot was not what he had in mind. “Are you...are you going to die?”

“Look, I’m just as clueless as you are.” You grunted, wincing from the pain. “All I know is that I have to take out this bullet and stitch up the wound as soon as possible. I don’t want to find out what will happen if I don’t.”

“Christ.” Bucky ran his hand threw his hair, thinking of any way he can help you, but you refused to let them near. They couldn’t even come in contact with your blood because of how you treated it as if it were acid to them. “So what now?”

“I’m going to have to do this myself.”

“No way.” Sam shook his head. “That’s dangerous.”

“I’ve patched up Spartans, gladiators and knights before Sam, and many others after that. After centuries of doing it, I think I know what I’m doing.”

“Well have you ever done this on yourself?” Bucky asked you.

“..........no. But I can manage. As long as you guys don’t freak out, I won’t freak out.” You blinked before gesturing to your jacket. “Inside my right pocket there’s a tiny duffel bag, can one of you grab it please.”

“Tiny duffel bag?” Sam raised his brow.

“Yes, that’s what I said. Now can one of you please get it?”

Sam went over to where your jacket was on the ground, pulling out a miniature duffel bag from the pocket.

“Good. Now set it down on the floor.” You watched as Sam set the small bag on the floor with confusion. He thought it looked like it belonged to a Barbie doll. What the hell were you doing with it? “Okay good. Now step away.” With a flick of your wrist, the men watched you with curiosity as you used your magic to turn the duffel bag into it’s normal size.

“Well that’s totally normal.” Bucky commented.

“Okay. Now open up my bag, I want you to pull out my bottle of wine.”

Sam looked at you quizzically before zipping open your bag and rummaging through it, finding your glass bottle of wine and handing it to you. “I thought you don’t drink.”

“Never said I didn’t drink, I just don’t drink your mortal shit.” You grumbled, popping open the cork with your teeth and keeping the cork in place to prevent you from biting your tongue. Slowly, you poured some of the wine on your wound, grunting from the stinging sensation that made you bite down on the cork. After a few seconds, you set the cork and bottle down beside you. “Now, would any of you happen to have a needle and thread? And some gauze? Or even some clean strips of fabric?”

“I can check.” Zemo offered before heading off. Shortly after, he came back with gauze that he managed to find, along with a sewing needle that already had a string of thread looped through.

“Thank you.” You grabbed the things from Zemo, setting them aside on the table that was within arm’s reach before hovering your hand above your wound.

“Y/n....” Sam’s voice was unsure, laced with concern once he figured out what you were going to do.

Zemo turned away. He had seen many injured Sokovian soldiers before, but this was different, he couldn’t stand to see you like this. To see you in pain hurt him in a way he never thought he’d feel when he met you.

A violet mist appeared around your fingertips as you attempted to regain your breathing, trying your best to keep your hand steady despite how nervous you were. Yes, you had patched up many people in the past, but you never once had to do it on yourself, and you were terrified. What if it went wrong? But you couldn’t have someone else do it, Olympian blood was considered toxic to mortals, killing anyone who came in contact with it. No, it had to be you. With a single deep breath, you used your powers to extract the bullet from the wound, clenching your jaw as you hissed from the pain. Tossing the bullet aside, you added pressure to the wound to prevent any more loss of blood before cleaning it out.

Holding the needle in one hand and holding out your open palm in the other, you muttered a few words in Ancient Greek, using a pyromancy spell to light your free hand up in a violet flame.

“What are you doing?” You heard Sam ask.

“I have to sterilize the needle of course.” You answered before holding the needle up to the flame to heat it up, waiting for the metal to turn red before extinguishing the flame. You grabbed your wine bottle again, taking a few swigs out of it before setting it back down. With a huff of your jagged breath, you started on stitching it closed, hissing each time the needle pierced your skin.

The three felt guilty for having stood there, not being able to do anything to aid you while you stitched yourself up. But what could they do? If your blood was as toxic as you said, there was nothing they could do.

Once you were done stitching up your wound after what felt like hours, you had Sam help you with the gauze since you weren’t able to move much. You were practically waiting for him to see the scars on your back and ask about it. What would you even tell them? How would they react? You had managed to hide those scars for many many years until now, it was a memory you did not wish to relive. Logan, Charles, and Erik were the only souls who knew about them. One thing was for sure, you did not have the strength to explain to them the story behind them.

“Y/n.” You heard Sam’s worried tone of voice. You didn’t even have to look at his face to know where his eyes had landed. You could practically feel the gaze of the three of them, staring at your back with what you could only imagine as horror.

Though Zemo had caught a glimpse of them in the dark when he was in your room, the shadows that were cast against them from the moonlight failed to show just how deep and jagged they were, as if the skin on your back wasn’t even yours.

“Y/n.” Sam spoke softly after seeing the troubled look on your face and how silent you had become. “Y/n.............what is this? What happened to your back?” Sam had seen these kind of scars before, but only in photographs in history books, never in person, and he was afraid to hear what your answer would be.

There was only one thought that came to Bucky’s mind when he saw your back. He had been in a similar territory. Those scars that lined your back were almost too familiar to him and he didn’t need to have the same ones to know there was only one possible way you could have gotten them.

“I know you guys are concerned, about my scars.” You muttered, your back still facing them as you were left in your sports bra while you changed into a clean shirt, hiding the skin on your back. “But I’d rather not talk about it right now. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some proper rest.”

The men nodded their heads, accepting your request before heading off in their own directions. They understood your decision and weren’t going to question it.

“Sam wait.” You stopped him, seeing him stop in his tracks to face you. “Please stay.”

Sam looked at you with a raised brow, wondering why you wanted him to stay before sitting down on the sofa beside you. “How you feeling?”

“I feel like shit, but less shittier than before.” You chuckled softly before wincing from the action. “But don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Listen Sam, about my injury, please don’t blame yourself for what happened to me.”

“I’m not-“

“I can tell Sam.” You sighed. “I just want to let you know that none of it was your fault. I chose to go on this mission.”

“I let you come along and you got hurt.” Sam looked at you. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Hey, not everything works out perfect. Trust me, I thought I would be fine because only a god can kill a god..........but I obviously got shot. But the thing that matters is I’m fine. Sure, I thought I was going to die. Hell, you all thought I was going to die. But I’m still here.”

“Do you know why that happened?” Sam asked you.

“To be honest? I still don’t know the true answer to that. Part of me thinks that it has to do with the loss of my planet. Maybe my time away from my planet has left me weak.”

“Hey.” Sam spoke up. “You are not weak. You are the strongest woman I know.”

“Right after your sister.” You quirked.

“Right after Sarah.” Sam chuckled softly. “Look, what I’m trying to say is, and I’ve seen you do it, you need to stop thinking that you’re weak, and less important than everyone else. You have gone through so much, and seen so many things. I can’t tell you how to feel about the things you have gone through because I don’t know what that’s like. I didn’t grow up on another planet, I’m not a Greek god and I’m definitely not thousands of years old, so I don’t know what that must have been like for you. But what I can say is that you’re not alone, you have a daughter who you raised all by yourself with zero experience of being a parent, and you raised her well. And you have us, so don’t feel like you need to hide every single thing from us. We’re here to help. I get that there are some things better left unsaid, but please don’t feel like you have to suffer through everything alone. If you keep eating at yourself like you do, and bottle up all your thoughts and feelings, it’s only going to do you more harm than good.”

“Y’know.” You looked at him, staring into those beautiful brown eyes of his that you always loved, the ones that reminded you of a safe place that you could seek shelter in no matter when. “I was supposed to give you a pep talk, but you have beat me to it.”

“Hey, if it works.” Sam smiled at you.

“Thanks Sam.” You smiled back.

“Come here.” Sam opened his arms out for you. “You need to rest.”

A sheepish grin appeared on your face as you scooted over to him, letting yourself relax in his warm embrace. Sam always gave the best hugs. Back when you worked with the avengers, Steve, Clint, and Sam were the three you would go to whenever you wanted a hug or just someone to hold you to wash all your worries away. Before them it was always Thor, and your brothers before him. But Sam’s hugs always felt as if you were hugging a big soft teddy bear, and gods you could stay in his arms forever. You two had stayed like that for a while, Sam with his back against the couch, and you cuddled up against his chest, wrapped in his arms. Right before you fell asleep, you thought about what Sam had told you. You knew he was right. But your thoughts couldn’t help but drift over to the recent events, how you were slowly starting to fall apart to your titaness form, the dream you had of Athena, and how you had been shot. After thousands of years, your skin had been pierced by a mortal for the first time. You thought about the prophecy you had heard a long time ago, the one your father had warned you about. Did this have anything to do with that? Were you in fact becoming mortal, or was this just paving a path to something much darker, and far more sinister.

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