#along with whoever hawkeye trained

[basilbubby]

THERE'S A NEW MARVEL MOVIE COMING OUT WITH BUCKY AND HE PUTS HIS ARM IN THE DISHWASHER LMFAOOO I'M SO EXCITED

[hawkeyeslaughter]

Do you have any headcannons for what hawkeye (or any of the swamp rats) went on to do after the war?

for my darling hawkeye ? of course i do !

— he’s the only one of the swamp rats not to eventually open up a private practice , but he does get promoted to head surgeon at his maine hospital . some of the more egotistical doctors find him ridiculous because he often bothers himself with small matters that most doctors of his rank don’t ( i.e , treating his patients with kindness , dropping in on them often and such ) . he , in a very hawkeye - esque fashion , tells them to get fucked

— bj tries to convince him to come to california to visit and hawkeye laughs at this idea because as much as he loves bj he would genuinely rather die than suffer the california weather . he’s so annoying about it that bj gives in and they ( he and peg and erin ) make an annual trip to maine every year . hawkeye is always greeted at the airport with a bear - hug from erin .

— uncle hawkeye is also constantly commanded to do the silly voices !! and of course he gives in because he has absolutely no backbone when it comes to kids and cannot say no to them ever . he also teaches erin how to play poker .

— he tracks down loraine blake’s address in bloomington , illinois , and writes her a letter expressing his love for henry , that everyone in the 4077th loved henry . he encloses a picture of him , henry , trapper , and radar with it — all mid laughter . loraine writes him back , thanking him . ‘ you made him laugh , hawkeye , he told me so . ‘ she writes . ‘ no matter what else you did , you made him laugh . and he loved you too . even if he never said it . ‘

— hawkeye takes busses and a train and busses again to iowa to be radar’s best man ( he doesn’t like planes . ) he recalls an embarrassing story or two during his best man speech but all is forgiven when he doesn’t leave a dry eye in the place by the end of his speech .

— it’s hawkeye’s turn to cry when he finds out radar names his son benjamin franklin o’reilly .

— he visits trapper frequently and trapper has a spare key to his house . hawkeye also has his own toiletries and shit at trapper’s . clothes as well .

— he finds out where charles hangs out on one of his frequent visits to trap , and shows up sporting a red carnation ( so charles doesn’t ignore the wrong person ) . charles spots the hawkeye grin a mile off , though . hawkeye makes this a tradition , charles thinks it’s ridiculous , even if from then on he consistently keeps an eye out for a shaggy - haired , carnation wearing , blue - eyed babe to get drunk with whenever he steps foot into the place .

— he’s a faithful penpal to margaret . each of her long letters detailing every event in her life , along with the large amount of photographs she sends are never thrown away , carefully preserved in a shoebox . he also frequently sends her gag gifts , most of which he gets berated for over the phone . he can never listen to those calls with a straight face .

— he looks up frank once , and sends him a pair of his boxers with no letter attached . he gets a run off the mill letter , penned by frank’s secretary , in return .

— he never kicks the alcohol habit , not completely . there are just things from korea that are too painful to remember sober . gin doesn’t taste right to him anymore .

— despite spending most of his time at the hospital , his house becomes cluttered , just like the swamp was .

— while altered , there is simply no denying that fact , hawkeye never turns his back on his hawkeye essence . he lives out his days in maine helping whoever he can , whenever he can , at any time he can . far past the time his mind weakens and his hands grow shaky , hawkeye is always hawkeye .

[shmaptainwrites]

Any way you could do a Hawkeye/Reader one shot with the prompt “ “i like you just the way you are” 🥺🥺

I love your writing style!

hi bestie! thank you and of course i can :) i did fem reader with this but if you’d prefer something different lemme know and i can edit it as soon as i can :))

Pairings: Hawkeye Pierce x fem!Reader

Warnings: alcohol, insecurity

Just the Way You Are

A time old saying your mother used to tell you for when things didn’t seem to be going your way was that maybe you just needed a change of scenery. You didn’t realize it would come in the form of a draft letter.

In a snap your life went from small town to war zone, thrown right in the deep end.

“A MASH unit? What’s that?” you frowned. “I thought nurses were stationed in Seoul or somethin’?”

“It stands for mobile surgical army hospital. We keep ‘em close to the front so the doctors can patch them up there so they’re well enough to get to Seoul or Tokyo. Someone will drive you to the 4077th first thing tomorrow.”

You nodded your head and thought that given the information it might be best to try and get some sleep.

That seemed to escape you and instead the gears in your mind turned at the realization that absolutely no one would know you here.

The girl who was pegged as innocent, vulnerable, too empathetic with terrible luck in love was unknown to whoever you were going to be working with and it was the perfect opportunity to start fresh, but as what was the question.

After a rather sleepless night of planning, you woke up bright and early to get on the jeep and head down to Ouijonbou. As soon as you arrived after the long and somewhat treacherous journey, your commanding officer, Major Houlihan, was quick to welcome you to her team of nurses and introduced you to your colleagues and showed you where you would be staying.

“Major Im really unfamiliar with the working of a MASH unit but I’m a hard worker and I’m ready to learn. Just might need a bit of educating here and there,” you smiled.

“That’s no problem, everyone here was in your position at one point or another. Us nurses have to stick together alright, (L/N)?”

“Yes ma’am,” you nodded.

“I’ll let you get settled, but if you hear the call for choppers OR is that way,” she pointed and you nodded again in confirmation.

“Thanks again, Major,” you waved.

“Sure, you ever need anything you let me know.”

With the Major gone you got to unpacking and getting to know your bunk mates.

“So what did you do for fun back home?” Nurse Kellye asked.

“Oh…well,” you paused and thought for a moment. Your answer probably should have been something along the lines of reading or riding your bike around town, but you had decided you wanted to paint yourself as someone who was adventurous. Didn’t take no for an answer. Someone that other people looked up to and admired. So you embellished a little. “I have a motorbike,” you said. “I take it out on the freeway, ride it around town. Just to get outside, you know?”

“Wow a motorcycle?” Nurse Bellows looked at you in astonishment. “I could never bring myself to get on one of those things.”

“Takes a bit to get used to, but once you do it’s smooth sailing.”

Your conversation was interrupted by a call on the PA about choppers and the nurses quickly instructed you on the procedure as you ran out to the compound to await the ambulances.

Before you knew it you were scrubbed in all white, working alongside Dr. Hunnicutt with his patients.

Your particular area of expertise wasn’t necessarily in OR but you had the training for it so you got by with only a fumble or two.

By the time all of the wounded had made their way through OR it was dark outside and you wondered quietly to yourself if this was what every day was going to feel like.

Pure exhaustion, not even a single glimmer of energy.

It was no surprise to your roommates when you simply changed out of your dirty scrubs and went straight to bed. On your first day, showering could definitely wait.

Even within the first day you had developed quite a reputation with your fellow nurses. The Major loved you because despite your new personality you weren’t here to ruffle anyone’s feathers so you paid great attention to her instructions and carried them out to a T, but also managed to have some fun with your colleagues.

You were tossing around a baseball for some practice before your nurses versus enlisted men game when your partner overshot the ball and you had to run to catch it in your glove before it hit the ground.

“I got it! I got it! I-Oof!

You felt a large obstruction in front of you and stumbled back only to see the ball land on the ground.

“Hey, I was trying to…” you looked up and blinked a few times in astonishment. “H-Hawkeye?”

“Well, would you look at what Uncle Sam dragged in,” he chuckled. “What are you doing in this neck of the war?”

“Drafted, you?”

“Same,” he nodded. “I didn’t know you played baseball,” he motioned to your gloved hand. “Thought you were more of a stay at home and read type.”

You shrugged, “Uh, people change. I-I really gotta go Hawk, Cindy’s waiting for me. Maybe we can catch up some other time?”

“Sure, a drink in the officer’s club?”

“Sounds good,” you nodded. “I’ll see you around.”

Of the 400 people that lived in Crabapple Cove you had to run into one of them in Korea.

Your drinks with Hawkeye kept getting delayed. At one point it was because there was a camp wide outbreak of the measles and naturally a quarantine ensued, at another point there were back to back days in OR followed by everyone in camp sleeping like a log, and you seemed to have better luck getting a few dates here and there with some of the enlisted men who had taken a shine to you, unfortunately all of them didn’t seem such a good fit.

“Crazy how fast time flies huh?” Hawkeye asked when you finally sat down with your drinks.

“Yeah, feels like a couple of days, but I’ve already been here two months,” you agreed.

“And just as busy as the rest of us,” he chuckled. “Seems you’ve become the most popular person in camp.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you raised a brow and took a sip of your beer.

“Not bad, just different. Different from the version of you I grew up with.”

“Like I said, people change,” you shrugged.

“War will do that to a person,” Hawkeye sighed. “Anyway, how’s home?”

“Home’s nice,” you smiled. “Missing it more every day. I mean I left for nursing school and came back only to be shipped off.”

“At least you’ve got all the procedures fresh in mind. Sometimes I worry with all this meatball surgery I’ll forget how to take someone’s tonsils out.”

“If you need practice I still got mine,” you teased and he chuckled.

“Who would have thought coming from Crabapple Cove we’d find each other on the other end of the world.”

“Yeah, the universe sure has a funny sense of humour,” you stared down into your cup before taking another sip.

“You still read much?”

“Not since I got here,” you shook your head. “Major Houlihan’s got us working double time with all the wounded coming in and on top of it we need to keep the place spick and span.”

“Just make sure she doesn’t work you to your grave before the rest of the war does.”

“I’ll try.”

The rest of your night was relaxed, but you couldn’t help but feel like something was off, before you could give it much thought you had ambulances in the compound and it was back to work.

It seemed your luck had run out for the night because patient after patient there was one complication after another and it was not looking up to be a good shift.

“Maybe you should take ten lieutenant,” the Colonel suggested.

“No I’m fine,” you shook your head, a blatant lie, but the new you wasn’t bothered by things like this.

“(Y/N), I think Potter’s right, maybe you should take a minute,” Hawkeye counselled.

“I said I’m fine, Hawk,” you insisted. “Just let me do my work please.”

You kept your head down for the rest of the shift in OR and once it was over you slipped out before anyone was the wiser and gave you a lecture on not taking more than you could handle.

Your eyes filled with tears before you were even halfway across the compound, but you refused to let anyone see you in such a state. Maybe you’d be the one working yourself into a grave before the war got to you, or maybe it already had.

—

“Can you close up or do you need a break?” BJ asked you.

“I think I’m alright,” you nodded, but before you could take the needle from him your joints locked and you pulled back in pain.

“Woah, maybe I should just take care of this,” BJ nodded.

“Hey, let me have a look at that,” Hawkeye said, pulling off his gloves and walking towards you. “No more wounded, right Klinger?”

“You’re all good, sir,” Klinger nodded from the door and Hawkeye took that as his cue to grab your other wrist and pull you to pre-op.

He sat you down on one of the beds there and wordlessly filled a bowl with warm water so that you could place your hand inside and loosen up your joints.

“Who the hell are you trying to impress here, (N/N)?” Hawkeye asked and you blinked and looked up at him.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do,” he nodded and took your hand out of the water, wrapping it in a towel and gently massaging it. “You’re pulling double shifts in OR, covering for your friends, and on top of it living this life that isn’t yours.”

“Hawkeye you don't understand,” you shook your head. “Everyone has always liked you. When we were in school the parents loved you because you knew when to be well-behaved and the kids loved you because you knew when not to be. I’m trying to even myself out and get better at the second part.”

“And you’re gonna kill yourself in the process,” he shook his head.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who’s been stuck in a town with only 400 people and half of them don’t even know your name let alone like you. No one’s ever liked me for me so I decided I was gonna be someone else.”

“I liked you,” he said quietly.

“W-What?”

“I like you,” he said plainly. “Just as you are.”

You blinked a few times more and stayed silent.

“And maybe you’d consider taking it easy for someone who likes you, and knows your name, and doesn’t care if you ride a motorbike or get hit hard in OR like we all do.”

He gently held your arm and leaned in, pressing a small kiss to your cheek before turning around to make his way into post op leaving you with a lot to think about.

—

Hawkeye and BJ found themselves aimlessly walking around the compound as they usually did when there was nothing to do.

“No wounded, post op is almost empty, peace talks are resuming, BJ dare I say it but I think the war is starting to look up,” Hawkeye chuckled.

BJ chuckled as they walked by the nurses throwing around Klinger’s baseball only for it to land by BJ’s feet.

BJ picked up the ball and tossed it to Nurse Jenkins while Hawkeye scanned the crowd for you.

“Hey where’s (Y/N)?” he asked. “She normally plays with you guys.”

“She decided to take it easy today,” Nurse Kellye told him. “I think she’s by the tent.”

Hawkeye and BJ turned in the direction of the tent to see you lounging in a chair with your feet kicked up and a book in your hands.

“If you’ll excuse me Beej, I’m gonna go check in on a friend.”

Hawkeye walked over to where you sat and pulled up another chair.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked and you looked up from your novel and shook your head. “I see you traded a glove for a book.”

“Temporarily,” you shrugged. “Baseball actually kind of grew on me. I'm not gonna quit that.”

“Fair enough,” Hawkeye chuckled.

“But I have decided to quit the double shifts, and all the extras if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I think I do,” Hawkeye nodded.

You closed your book and put it down next to your chair and looked at Hawkeye.

“Thanks Hawk, really for telling me it was okay to stop,” you said. “You were right I would have run myself into an early grave trying to keep up with everything.”

“What are old friends for,” he reached out for your hand and gave it a squeeze.

You stood up from your chair and moved next to his, bending down so you were both at eye level with each other.

“And this is a little something just as a thank you for reminding me I’m alright just the way I am,” you whispered and leaned in, pressing a soft and gentle kiss to his lips only for him to pull you closer as the nurses hollered and whistled behind you.

“Would the old you say yes to me if I asked if you’d come on a date with me?” Hawkeye asked.

“By old me do you mean the one that grew up with you?” you asked and he nodded. “Probably not, but,” you quickly butted in. “The new old me would.”

“The new old you?” Hawkeye chuckled.

“Can’t stay the same forever Hawk, just like baseball can grow on a person in a certain way, you can too.”

“I’ll take it. Otherwise I wouldn’t be a man of my word.”

“Because you like me just as I am,” you smiled.

“That I do.”

tags: @robin-the-enby

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Pitch for a video game: “Marvel’s Hawkeye”, a co-op game developed by Hazelight Studios (It Takes Two, A Way Out)

At the start menu, the two players are presented with this choice:

1) Clint Barton and Derek Bishop

2) Kate Bishop and Nicole Barton

In a standalone Marvel universe, Clint Barton is a famous circus performer under the name “The Hawkeye”. Alongside his daughter/protege, Nicole Barton, the two are known for dazzling audiences with their death-defying archery stunts. Also existing in this world is Kate Bishop, an Olympian athlete who won the gold medal in archery. She was trained by her father, Derek Bishop.

At the start, Player 1 and 2 control two different pairs; Clint and Nicole, Kate and Derek. This is to set up the tragedy that kicks off the game’s main story. While performing at one of their shows, Nicole Barton is killed when a bomb goes off in the audience. Around the same time, Derek Bishop is gunned down while driving his daughter home from the gym.

Five years then pass.

Clint Barton is now a depressed wreck, retired from the circus in order to focus solely on finding who was responsible for his daughter’s death. Kate Bishop has become a ruthless vigilante (along the lines of Ronin) who is also thirsty for revenge. The two follow a lead on their respective loved one’s murder, causing them to cross paths. Although they don’t trust each other at first, Clint and Kate decide to join forces when they realize that they’re both after the same, mysterious villain.

And that’s where the main game begins. Clint and Kate have to work as a team to avenge their loved ones. As the game goes on, the two form a father figure-daughter figure relationship, which helps them heal from their past trauma.

MISCELLANEOUS NOTES:

* In case the set-up is confusing, there are two playable pairs (Clint and Nicole, Kate and Derek). The point is that both players will end up losing a character since whoever is playing as Clint will die as Derek, and whoever is playing as Kate will die as Nicole. So when Clint and Kate join forces, both players will have felt some level of loss.

* Nicole Barton is based on the Ultimate Marvel comics

* The main villain is revealed to be Kagenobu Yoshioka, a high-ranking crime boss who runs Japan’s most powerful Yakuza syndicate known as “The Hand” (Netflix Marvel, anyone?). Nicole Barton’s death was accidental since the Hand meant to kill someone in the audience. Derek Bishop was killed since he had massive debts with the Hand.

* The secondary villain is Bullseye, who is Nobu’s lead assassin and the one who carried out Derek’s murder and the explosion that killed Nicole.

* While it’d be neat to have Jeremy Renner and Hailee Steinfeld reprise their roles, if I had to recast, I’d have Jeffrey Pierce (Tommy Miller, The Last of Us) as Clint Barton and Chloe Bennet (Daisy Johnson, Agents of SHIELD) as Kate Bishop.

* Just like “It Takes Two” and “A Way Out”, there are tons of co-op minigames that the players can do. Since this is an archery-centric game, there should be minigames like darts and cornhole.

* Other Marvel characters do show up, but only as either cameos or guest appearances. Characters who I’d include for sure: Black Widow, Daredevil, Mockingbird, Elektra Natchios, The Punisher

[pagekiersten19]

If all of the MCU superheroes were put into a Hunger Games arena without their powers/weapons/suits, who would win? How would the battle play out?

Cap’s going out first. Because let’s admit it: Stripped of the super soldier serum, he barely has enough body mass to break a stick, much less a bone.

He gets poached by the first wild animal that comes by.

Bruce Banner won’t last very long, either. Without the Hulk, he’s got very little in terms of offensive capabilities. I would say that his greatest weapon is his brain, but unlike Tony, who specializes in making weapons from scratch, Banner’s intellect lies more in the field of nuclear physics.

So I doubt he could design anything too complex out here. He’d probably meet death at the hands of Thor.

And now things get really interesting. We’ve weeded out the trash, and everyone left has a decent shot at actually surviving this.

Thor has a better chance of survival than I initially gave him credit for.

Yes, his two greatest assets are literally his powers and his weapon. But take that away, and you still have a proficient martial artist. Maybe not as much as, say, Cap, but enough to hold his own against multiple SHIELD agents (which is admittedly not much in this universe, but still…). Even without his Asgardian physiology, he may go a long way…if he plays his cards right and picks his battles wisely…

Nonetheless, he’s always seemed to rely very heavily on his enhanced muscle. Once any of the big boys (I.E, Clint and Natasha) come along, he’s going down.

Tony Stark has a good shot here. Even without his suit, Tony is known for creating spectacular devices out of little or nothing. And I’m not saying that he’ll create an Iron Man suit out of tree branches, but he’s known for doing more with less. I wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled some sort of trick from his sleeve.

I’d imagine that whoever beats him would undergo a long, grueling battle on their part.

Black Widow and Hawkeye remain as the two main contenders here. They were the only two Avengers trained expressly for hand-to-hand combat on equal terms. And we’ve seen time and again that they’re pretty much even when it comes to close-quarters combat.

Which is exactly why Hawkeye would emerge the victor. Clint knows that he and Natasha cancel one another out in hand-to-hand. So he knows not to get close.

And unlike him, Natasha doesn’t have very many ranged options.

Clint, on the other hand, could just create makeshift bows and arrows from the terrain, lay low, and wait for the moment Black Widow emerges (because she’ll obviously be lurking).

And when that time comes, Clint will be ready. Even if he has to take a shot from a mile away.

[xprojectrpg]

Moment of Awesome - Daniel Lone Eagle/Forge:

Following an assessment run in the Danger Room, Clinton Barton provides advice and support - and blocks the fridge.

Forge was, in a word, tired. And his brain was buzzing with new ideas after he'd experienced the Danger Room doing its level best to virtually kill him. Whoever the big blond with the claws was, Forge wanted no part in encountering him again. He took some minor comfort that not even the room with all its processing power could make the machines that were standing in for the bad guys and the civvies feel real.

He was definitely going to need the cane for the rest of the day - he'd pushed hard on the run and his hip was screaming. Hand wasn't too bad but when he had to go hard physically, it was always the leg that complained the loudest.

Still, it felt good to get out in the field again. And Clint - or Hawkeye, to use his callsign - was very good at what he did. Man definitely had some assassin training somewhere along the line - Forge could tell by the way he moved, his target assignments, how he took people down with that still-vaguely-ridiculous bow of his.

Dry-swallowing some painkillers, he finished getting dressed to head out of the locker room to probably be told all the ways he'd screwed the pooch.

Clint, having gone high to observe and assist when necessary, hadn't worked as hard as Forge. He'd still need a shower later, but he felt fine to grab some food and discuss the DR session with Forge. They'd already bid Scott farewell, but the older man had had an evil sort of gleam in his eye, if Clint did say so himself, so he envisioned his own future DR sessions were going to completely wipe the floor with him.

Waiting with his shoulders propped against the wall outside the locker room, Clint ran a quarter through the knuckles of both hands at the same time, barely focused on them as the coins wove back and forth, back and forth. Upon Forge's appearance, Clint pushed himself off the wall and pocketed his quarters. "Food?" He asked simply, eyebrows raised.

Forge nodded as he yawned. "Hell yes." he said, leaning heavily on his cane. "You know the places around here, I'm at your mercy. Again."

[thatdarkfanficstuff]

My Rockstar - Clint Barton

Pairing: Rockstar!Clint Barton x Reader

Warnings: Smut adjacent; more language than usual probably. MINORS DNI

A/N: Sorry. I wasn't feeling the smut so you get foreplay. Prompts in bold. Rockstar AU

Divider by @ firefly-graphics

You’d been waiting months for this moment. All access backstage at a concert for your favorite band. That was a lie. You were here for the lead singer. You couldn’t care less about the rest of them.

Clint Barton, affectionately called Hawkeye by his bandmates, had been your favorite singer from the moment you first heard his voice in some seedy dive bar one weekend at college. You’d followed him and his career ever since. Not that you were some groupie. You weren’t that lucky. No, you were stuck being just a normal, avid fan.

The band had been running late so you hadn’t gotten to meet them before the show, but you’d been assured you could stick around after. God, you hoped you at least got to meet him. Even if it was just long enough for you to tell him how much you admired him. How you’d seen him at that first show and knew he’d be here someday. You’d paid the equivalent of a month’s rent for the opportunity to do so, after all.

As the opening chords of your favorite song filled the air, you closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the rhythm. You danced and sang along until Clint’s voice was replaced by a guitar solo. You opened your eyes as you continued to dance and your breath caught as you locked eyes with none other than Hawkeye himself.

A slow smirk curled his lips as heat smoldered in his eyes. He moved toward you and it took a moment for you to realize that he was exchanging his guitar for another one. His gaze stayed glued to you as he settled the new instrument into place. “You keep dancing like that and I’m going to cum in my pants.”

Heat flooded your face as your mouth dropped slightly. Did he really just say that? To you? Holy shit.

He smirked and glanced back at the stage. He was running out of time. “What’s your name?”

You managed to stutter it out making his smirk widen.

“I like it. It suits you.” He started to walk backward to his spot. “I’ll see you after the show, sweetheart.”

A second later, he was singing again like the whole exchange had never happened. Though he did continue to shoot glances in your direction.

You guessed you’d get the chance to talk to him after all.

Somehow, that moment led to you following the band to their next three shows. Clint had asked and you’d been unable to say no. You were between jobs anyway and had enough savings to pay your portion of the rent for a few months. Though Clint had offered. Had said he’d pay anything he needed to cover your ass while you played groupie for a while.

It was amazing. Backstage at every show. Clint shooting you glances while he sang. Throwing an arm around your shoulders as he came off stage before he dragged you off to whatever party was going on that night where he made certain to keep you right by his side.

You and the singer spent hours just talking, getting to know one another. And while you loved the heavy flirting and the gentle touches, he hadn’t so much as attempted to kiss you. Frankly, you were frustrated.

It wasn’t like he was leaving you to fuck someone else but he wasn’t fucking you either. Was he even interested? Every time you thought he was and decided to make a move, he’d play with someone else’s hair. Get close to whisper in their ear.

You groaned at your train of thought. He was a rockstar. Why would he want a girlfriend when he could sleep with whoever he wanted? Did you really think he’d fall in love with you and be faithful and all that? Get a grip. He was Clint fucking Barton.

You flopped back on the hotel bed. You were staying in one of the bedrooms in the suite Clint occupied. While the thought should thrill you, it wouldn’t come to anything so what difference did it make? Your phone rang and you answered without looking at the screen. “Lo?”

“We’re going out.” You recognized the voice instantly. Natasha was the band’s drummer and Clint’s best friend. You’d spent more time with her than anyone else except Clint.

“Out where?” You were tired. You didn’t want to go anywhere. But you also needed to do something other than pine after someone who clearly wasn’t interested.

“Clubbing.”

“I don’t know,” you said and braced yourself knowing Nat wouldn’t be happy.

“I wasn’t asking.” Her voice got that edge the said she wasn’t going to argue, you were just going to do as she said and be happy doing it.

You sighed. “Fine.”

“Wear the dress I bought you.”

“Absolutely not.” The dress, if it could even be called that, was indecent. When she’d given it to you, you’d thought it was joke.

“Listen. I like you. You fit in well with the rest of us. But you have to loosen up.”

You frowned. “I’m loose.”

She snorted. “No, you’re not. You need to get laid. Wear the dress.”

With that she hung up. You scowled at the ceiling for a moment before moving to retrieve the dress from your bag. She had a point. You did need to get laid, but you were certain that you wouldn’t be satisfied with anyone but Clint.

You stopped before leaving your room and tugged at the bottom of the dress. The hem cleared your ass by about two inches. Far too short. Of course, pulling at the bottom only put more of your breasts on display. There just wasn’t enough dress to go around. There were even cut-outs on the sides to show more skin.

Fuck it. You took a breath and rolled your shoulders back. You opened the door and stepped into the main room only to jerk to a stop when your gaze fell on Clint. He lounged on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. A smile curved his lips when he heard your door.

“Hey…” he started, only to trail off as he raised his head. His eyes went wide as they took you in from head to toe. He licked his lips. “Nice dress, sweetheart.”

You cleared your suddenly dry throat. “Thanks. Nat bought it for me.”

He huffed a laugh. “Of course, she did.” He moved across the room, closing the distance between the two of you. His eyes never left yours. He stopped once there was less than a foot between you. You looked up at him. “What’s the occasion?” he asked.

“Clubbing with Nat.”

His jaw set as his gaze darkened. “I don’t fucking think so.”

You arched a brow. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not going out in that outfit.”

Ugh. This man was so incredibly aggravating. “What do you care?”

His hands immediately found the curve of your hip and the back of your neck. His lips crashed into yours in a frenzy you gladly got lost in. When he pulled away, his eyes searched your face. “In case you haven’t figured it out by now, sweetheart, you’re mine.”

“And how was I supposed to know that when you wouldn’t even kiss me? I thought you weren’t interested.” Irritation colored your words.

“Not interested?” He scoffed and pulled you in for another kiss. “Guess that’s what I get for being a fucking gentleman. Thought you’d be flattered it wasn’t just about the sex and you think I didn’t want you. I’ve been fucking hard since I saw you dancing that first night.”

The corner of your mouth kicked up. “Aren’t you supposed to see a doctor if you have an erection lasting more than four hours?”

“You’re fucking hilarious, sweetheart.”

You grinned and cupped him through his jeans to find that he was indeed hard. “I feel like I should help with this.”

“Fuck yes.” The hand on your hip moved to join the other on your neck. His thumbs ran along your jawline as he just looked at you for another moment before kissing you again. He walked you backward until your back found the wall.

His lips moved from yours to trace a line down the column of your throat. From there he found your collarbone. Before he could move any lower, you were interrupted by the ringing of your phone. Clint pulled it from your hand, his lips now tracing the curve of your breast.

He answered without even glancing at the screen. “She’s not going,” he said and hung up. He tossed the phone aside.

You laughed and tugged at his hair. “What if that wasn’t Nat?”

He shrugged. “It was.”

His hand found its way under your dress and he froze upon discovering your bare pussy. He pulled away from worshiping your skin with his lips to glower down at you. “You were going to go out in this scrap of a dress with nothing underneath it?”

Your face heated. “Well, you’d be able to see panties through the openings on the sides. And you really don’t wear a bra with a dress like this.”

He growled before kissing you again. His hands found the bottom of your ass and lifted you. As he walked toward his room, he muttered against your lips. “My girl’s trying to fucking kill me. Would have had to kill anyone that saw what was mine. Trying to get me locked up.”

You couldn’t stop a soft laugh at his antics.

Clint grinned and tossed you onto his bed. You squealed in surprise before laughing again. He crawled up the bed until he was laying beside you. His hand ran across your stomach until his fingers found the openings in the dress. He caressed your bare skin. “You sure about this, sweetheart? Because you aren’t the regular groupie. If we do this, you’re mine. And everyone is going to fucking know it.”

The thought of the publicity that would come with being his girl made your head spin, but it was worth it. Of course, it was. You initiated the kiss this time. Soft, sweet. Loving. “I’m sure, Clint. Make me yours.”

“Thank fuck.”

[musetta3]

Dragon Age OC as a Companion: Revka Cadash

Trend started by @little-lightning-lavellan it’s an amazing one and I had such fun with it! Thank you for the template!

This will be under a cut, because ohhhhhh my, there’s a lot here <3

This is also on AO3!

Is your OC a Companion in the Dragon Age series? What would it be like for a player to select them to join their party for quests (or romance them, perhaps? 👀) 

You have selected Revka Cadash to join your party!

Race: Dwarf 

Affiliation: Carta 

Gender: Female

Class: Rogue/Archer

Specialization: artificer

 Background

Revka Cordelia Cadash (born 8:95 Blessed) is a dwarven rogue and businesswoman. She is a companion and a potential romance option for a male human, dwarf, or qunari Inquisitor in Dragon Age: Inquisition.

Revka is a member of the many-membered Cadash Clan, and daughter of Brygida ‘Cookie’ Cadash and Artur ‘Archie’ Cadash. She has an older brother, Tavi, as well as numerous cousins, including Edric ‘Dasher’ Cadash, the head of the Ferelden Carta.  

Revka grew up in the company of her rambunctious cousins, and thus views them like brothers and sisters. It’s common for Cadashes to play tricks and pull pranks on each other as a way to show affection, as is evidenced in the short story ‘Flapping in the Breeze.’ Some of Revka’s favorite pranks include spiking food with chili oil, switching people’s beverages, hiding belongings, and breaking into ‘private’ things such as journals, desk contents, or that box of cookies under the bed.  

Revka made a name for herself in the Carta accompanying her mother and cousins on patrol as a teen. Her deadly accuracy with a bow earned her the nickname ‘Hawkeye;’ her duties quickly expanded to include ‘problem-solving’ for the Carta, her solutions ranging from assassinations, blackmail, and negotiating contracts, to smuggling, and forgeries. Her successful business plans and battle tactics made her a valuable asset to the Carta.

In 9:13 Dragon, Revka married Iwan Feddic, a member of the merchant caste and a Cadash client in Ostwick. She helped her husband run his international shipping business, a venture she took over after his untimely death. When Dasher’s wife, Darya, died at the hands of the Orlesian Carta, Revka returned to Ferelden to help her cousin raise his five children, turning over the Ostwicker affairs to her brother, Tavi.

When the Cadashes eliminated a rival Carta branch in Kirkwall, they sent Artur Cadash to oversee operations in the city. 22-year-old Revka volunteered to accompany him, becoming her father’s second in command. Once arrived in Kirkwall, she helped him found Graywater Imports, an import/export company functioning as a storefront for both legal and illegal goods. She is a prominent member of the Cadash Carta branch in Kirkwall, often dealing with the Dwarven Merchant Guild and Varric Tethras.

Romance with Varric Tethras

Shortly after Revka arrived in Kirkwall, she met the young Varric Tethras. What began as mixing business with pleasure became a romantic entanglement that lasted until Tethras met the talented smith Bianca Davri, and broke off with Revka for Bianca. As much as Revka wanted to cut all ties with him, she maintained their business relationship… and an unrequited, one-sided love for the deshyr prince.

Involvement

A special mission at the War Table will unlock a quest at Kirkwall’s Docks, ‘Ten Shades of Graywater,’ in which the Inquisitor will receive a mysterious anonymous letter inviting them to the coast to discuss a purveyor/supplier contract for the Inquisition. The Inquisitor will arrive in a seemingly abandoned alley, but is ambushed by Coterie thugs. After the enemies are slain, Revka can be engaged in conversation.

If Varric is in the party, he will be surprised to see Revka. It’s revealed that they know each other through various business ventures, and are old acquaintances… although the weighted, bitter quality of Revka’s answers imply that their relationship is more complicated than Varric had said.

Upon further questioning, Revka pitches her business proposal: wholesale lyrium for the Inquisition’s mages or Templars, with access to the Cadash Family’s network of spies, businesses, and Carta members for Inquisition purposes. Her only condition is that her family obtains an industry monopoly, becoming the sole provider of lyrium for the Inquisition and Southern Thedas.

Revka can be found near the archery targets and training dummies in Haven. Once the Inquisition relocates to Skyhold, Revka spends time training in the courtyard, in Skyhold’s main hall talking to Varric, or in the rookery, spoiling her messenger crow, Cipher, with treats. Dialogue options will reveal that she uses the bird keep in contact with her family and business associates.

 Approval and Romance

Revka can be romanced by a male Inquisitor of any race, and will jokingly comment on the height differences if romanced by a qunari, elf, or human. A Cadash inquisitor of either gender can unlock Carta-specific dialogue. Revka is guarded at first, giving out only generic information about her family, but with some persistent questioning the Inquisitor can wear her down. Depending on dialogue choices, the conversation can end with the Cadashes exchanging stories of ‘colorful’ family members and an approval gain.

   Revka takes a more pragmatic view on politics: she supports whoever pays the most, and sells lyrium to both the Templars and mages without discrimination. Upon learning the truth behind the events Redcliffe, however, she is dismayed to learn what her products enabled. Traveling to Redcliffe with Revka in the party will trigger her personal quest ‘Scales Fall from Her Eyes.’ (this quest will trigger after the Inquisition relocates to Skyhold if the player sided with the Templars)

Revka approves of Inquisitors who are tenacious, calculating/far-sighted, and does what is best for the majority. She believes that the end justifies the mean, sanctioning death only as a last resort. She approves of bold plans, investigating all aspects of a quest before making a decision, and an Inquisitor who makes jokes (especially puns). Her sense of justice changes as the player completes more of her personal quests. She will approve of charitable acts and kindness as the game progresses and her personal beliefs change.

Revka’s romance can be initiated through the conventional method flirting and conversation. During the quest ‘Scales Fall from Her Eyes,’ the Inquisitor has an opportunity to embrace Revka, leading to a kiss.

If Revka is not romanced by an Inquisitor, she can enter a relationship with Varric Tethras, but only if the Inquisitor assists in reconciling the two ex-lovers. Revka’s romantic past with Varric is hinted at in party banter if both are present, the two bickering with each other. This series of quests are available post-arrival at Skyhold, and has conditional dialogue for certain scenarios.

Revka gets along well with Dorian and Cassandra, bonding with them over their mutual love of books. It’s revealed that the three of them have an unofficial ‘book club’ going on, where they read various novels and comment on them in party banter. Revka also gets along well with Sera, bonding over pulling pranks in Haven and Skyhold. She makes a special bond with Leliana over nugs, owning a nug, herself.

Revka does not trust Solas from the moment she meets him, stating he knows too much, and is fond of talking without saying anything. She also suspects Blackwall of hiding something.

Companion Quests

Scales Fall from Her Eyes

After the events of Redcliffe, the Inquisitor will receive a note from Revka to meet her at the abandoned cabin outside Haven. Or, if the player sided with the Templars, this will trigger once the Inquisition relocates to Skyhold. At the meeting, she will share her guilt and horror at what occurred. She questions her personal beliefs, and offers an apology with the promise to amend her family’s business practices. After this quest, Revka is more empathetic, approving of selfless and charitable acts, whereas before she’d disapprove.

At the end of the quest, the Inquisitor has an opportunity to embrace Revka, which can lead to a kiss, if desired.

Varric’s Quest in Valammar

Revka can be found beside the fireplace in the main hall, arguing with Varric over the contents of a particular letter. Upon investigation, the Inquisitor learns that Revka has broken into the locked box in which Varric keeps his correspondence, which she claims he’s done to her on multiple occasions over the years. He neither denies nor confirms the accusation. Revka demands to know why Varric is still in contact with ‘that woman,’ declares she won’t set foot in the main hall until his ‘guest’ is gone, and leaves, demanding the Inquisitor ‘talk some sodding sense into him.’

This leads into Varric’s quests with Bianca Davri, and some cutting comments from Bianca calling Revka a ‘sore loser.’ Varric comes to Revka’s defense, much to the Inquisitor’s surprise.

If the Inquisitor takes Revka to Valammar, she disapproves and will grouse all the way there, cutting snide remarks whenever Varric says something. She becomes jealous during Bianca and Varric’s reminiscing, interjecting and muttering. Her anger only grows as the quest proceeds, Revka calling out Bianca for her selfish, pragmatic methods and carelessness. Once Inquisitor concludes the quest, Revka declares she needs some air, and says she’ll meet the Inquisitor at the nearest inquisition camp later.

Upon arrival at the campsite, a scout reports that Revka never returned to camp. The Inquisitor must search the nearby area; eventually, they find Revka injured after being ambushed by bandits (the Inquisitor and the party must defeat them in order for the quest to proceed).

If Varric is present, he will be upset, demanding to know why she would be so foolish as to wander around alone. Revka half-jokes, claiming how surprised she is that Varric cares about her safety, after all these years. Varric’s expression visibly shifts. The Inquisitor arranges for her immediate medical care, but it’s too serious a wound for her to remain out in the field. After this point, Revka is unavailable as a companion until after the Inquisitor returns to Skyhold.

Once the Inquisitor returns, they will find Varric in the central courtyard, pacing outside the infirmary/medical tents. The medic will inform the Inquisitor that Varric hasn’t left since Revka’s arrival, but refuses to go inside to see her. Selecting Varric for a conversation will show he can’t bear to face her after what happened at Valammar; he feels especially guilty, knowing that she got hurt in an attempt to calm down after the encounter. The Inquisitor can remind Varric that his apology should be to Revka, not them. To trigger their romance, the Inquisitor can encourage him to visit Revka and share his feelings.

If the Inquisitor visits her instead, they will gain high approval with her, and further unlock romance scenes. After the visit in the tent, Revka will invite the Inquisitor to her quarters to personally ‘thank’ him. The Inquisitor can choose to accept her proposition, or refuse. Depending on choice, Revka may sleep with the Inquisitor. There is an option to break relations off with Revka the morning after.

 Revka’s Family

Revka’s war table missions mostly revolve around business opportunities she’s scouted out for the Inquisition throughout Thedas. Some of these are triggered through conversations with Revka in the rookery or throughout Skyhold. Completing quests from her cousin Jon in Tevinter will reveal Venatori camps on all game-maps, and will reduce the cooldown time on war table quests dealing with Venatori in general.

Revka’s cousin, Czibor, can be encountered in the Hissing Wastes hunting Venatori. Accompanying xem in eliminating a Venatori camp can lead to xir recruitment as an Inquisition agent.

The Trouble with Tavi

After the quest Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, Revka will ask to meet the Inquisitor, requesting their assistance in a matter of life or death. She reveals that she’s received a letter from the Orlesian Carta, stating their displeasure at the Inquisitor’s choice of ruler, since they’re encroaching on the Orlesian Carta’s operations. They know Revka and the Cadash family has been helping the Inquisition, and threaten to exact revenge. She’d thought it an empty threat until her brother Tavi stopped replying to her letters. Upon investigation, it’s revealed that the Orlesian Carta kidnapped Tavi and have hid him at their base in Val Royeaux. Revka asks the Inquisitor for assistance.

Should the Inquisitor refuse Revka, she will greatly disapprove, stating that her brother’s more important that the Inquisitor’s ‘sodding principles,’ and leave the Inquisition to save him. She will not be available again until later in the game (post Adamant), when a war table mission will appear from Tavi in Ostwick, stating that Revka saved him and has returned to Kirkwall. She is still very offended, and is considering terminating the Cadash business contracts with the Inquisition. He urges the Inquisitor to please make her reconsider, citing the monetary gain the contracts net him but also Revka’s hurt (note: the letter will also reference a romanced Varric, asking the Inquisitor to enlist his help). The Inquisitor has the choice to make up with Revka and invite her back, or leave her be.  

Should the Inquisitor choose to help Revka, she will greatly approve and travel with the Inquisitor to Val Royeaux. Varric—regardless of the romance status—will also express interest in coming, but bringing him along is not required. Revka will be touched by his offer, regardless.

The meeting place mentioned in the Carta’s letter is an abandoned oil warehouse at the docks. Inside, the companions note the derelict condition of the place. The further they travel into the warehouse, following a trail of blood, the smell of rancid oil grows stronger. In a storeroom, there is a lone dead dwarf bearing a note, a man Revka recognizes as Tavi’s second in command in Ostwick. If the Inquisitor can find Tavi before time runs out, the note says, they’re welcome to him. As the Inquisitor reads the note aloud, a shadow darts in the periphery; the door slams shut, locking them in. A torch is thrown in through a window, setting the spilled oil on fire.

The Inquisitor may, through a series of dialogue choices, decide to rescue Tavi or leave him to his fate, opting to escape. If the Inquisitor chooses to escape and leave Tavi behind, Revka will greatly disapprove, running off to find him herself. If she is romanced by Varric, he will also greatly disapprove, stating that they should go after Revka. If the Inquisitor chooses this route, they can still save Revka and Tavi. Otherwise, the two Cadashes are not seen again, supposedly perishing in the fire. Revka will then be unavailable as a companion for the remainder of the game.  

The mission to save Tavi is time-sensitive, with several endings: should the Inquisitor take too long to escape or find Tavi, the warehouse will collapse on them, killing everyone. The timer, separated into quarters, is marked by sections of the roof collapsing: escaping by the third collapse will guarantee the party’s safety. Escaping post-third collapse can result in a 50% chance of the roof collapsing on the party: if this occurs, Revka pushes either her love interest or her brother out of the way of a falling beam, sacrificing herself for their safety. The mission then ends with the party barely escaping in time, mourning the loss of their lover and/or friend.

Pranks

Various pranks around Skyhold and Haven are attributed to Revka via ambient dialogue and party banter. If the approval rate is high enough, Inquisitor has an opportunity to join Revka in pulling pranks around Skyhold post-Adamant. She claims that she’d like to cheer everyone up, and would like the Inquisitor’s help.

Prank 1: sneak into the kitchen and switch the sugar out for salt in a cake.

Prank 2: paint a smiley face on the back of a sleeping Solas’s head

Prank 3: Rearrange Vivienne’s furniture

Prank 4: Distract Varric so she can steal his letters and replace them with scrambled riddles

A cutscene follows, showing a crowd standing at the base of a flagpole the morning after. Revka pushes through the crowd, gasping: someone has nailed her frilly blue panties to the pole. Varric is seen leaning against a column, howling with laughter. Revka pulls a face at him and scowls, but eventually ends up laughing, too. (Note: this is inspired by the short story ‘Flapping in the Breeze’)

Trespasser

If Revka left or died during the events of the game, she will not be at the Winter Palace. Otherwise, there are several outcomes as to what she’s been doing…

If she romanced Varric, she returned to Kirkwall and is his lover

If she romanced the Inquisitor, she stayed alongside him as an Inquisition agent

If she did not romance anyone, she returned to Kirkwall

There is an option to marry Revka as a romanced Inquisitor, or urge her to marry Varric. If she marries, her brother Tavi and a recruited cousin Czibor may attend the ceremony.

 Combat comments

Kills an enemy

And stay dead!

Sodding nughumper, good riddance.        

Low Health

A little help would be lovely!

Oh shit. Not good.

Atredum na satolva! Toss me a health potion,     will you?

I’m too old for this…        

Low Health (Companions)

(The Inquisitor) Inquisitor!

(The Inquisitor - if romanced) Hold on, love!

(Varric, unromanced) Varric, you don’t look so     good...

(Varric, if romanced) Oh shit, don’t you dare die on     me.  

(Sera) Can someone check on Sera, please?

(Cassandra) Cass! Wait!

(Dorian) Dorian needs help!

Location comments

(Approaching Camp) Ahhh! Home sweet tent. 

(When collecting a shard) Ooh! I wonder how much it’d fetch at market.

Storm Coast

(sighs) They ought to call this place the ‘Soggy Coast,’ or the ‘Sopping Coast.’  My socks are soaked through to my boots.

Fallow Mire

The bugs will drain you dry before the undead will. Nug-humping bastards keep biting me…

Anyone else feel eyes watching you from the shadows?

Hinterlands

(Laughs) You know, back when I was running jobs for the Carta, I would get so lost here in the Hinterlands. Good to know things haven’t changed.

Don’t go near there; bears love that place. I learned that the hard way…

(at Witchwood) Ah, the Which-Witch-is-Which-Wood. Da would warn my brother and I about this place when were children.

The Hissing Wastes

I have sand in places I never knew existed.

Why my cousin had to choose to hunt Venatori in the ass-end of nowhere is beyond me…

Emprise du Lion

(scoffs) Snow. Snow. More sodding snow. I’m up to my tits in the stuff.

We don’t get snow like this in Kirkwall.

(on seeing a snowfleur) Ooh, look! Fluffy nugs! Can I take one home? Lucky could use a friend.

Emerald Graves

I…I heard the reason why this place is called the Emerald Graves. Such a tragic story.

I didn’t expect such greenery this far south, to be honest.

Exalted Plains

(shivers) You can feel the sorrow in this place.

 Companion Comments

Blackwall: “Rev? She’s a bit… unnerving, to be honest. Never smiles, glares holes in the side of your head. Offered to sell my carvings in Denerim, though: two sovereigns apiece. I swear she could sell water to a fish, that woman…”

Varric: “(Laughs) Hawkeye and I go way back. Don’t let her innocent face fool you: she’ll bleed you dry at Wicked Grace if you let her. Learned some of my best tricks from her—Don’t…erm. Don’t tell her that.”

OR

“Do you know how Hawkeye got her name? She shot a fly from across a room, once. Still don’t know how she did it.”

(If Inquisitor romanced Revka) Hawkeye’s a sweet girl, under all the Carta bullshit. I’m glad she has you; she deserves some happiness in her life.”

(If romances Revka): “I know they say don’t mix business with pleasure, but I get all the best discounts at Graywater Imports, now. You want anything? I think they’re running a sale on Antivan leather, at the moment.”

OR

“She’s probably upstairs feeding Cipher, knowing her. Or taking another order for Dagna; buys crafting supplies like candy, that one.”

Sera: “Rev’s fun, not all stuffy just ‘cause she’s someone back home, yeah? Takes jokes well. Can’t shoot for shit, though…”

Cole: Ash, steel, gray, withering inside at the sight of him smiling at her. Don’t look back, you’re not going that way; old coals don’t rekindle. It bleeds under her armor, but she can’t bandage the wound. I want to help. (if she romances Varric) but he helped her feel whole again. (if she romances the Inquisitor) but you helped her feel whole again.

Solas: “Is it wise to allow a known member of the Carta in our ranks? She actively seeks information and passes it along to her superiors.”

OR

“Do tell Mistress Cadash that if she breaks into my desk one more time, I shall ward the drawers to set her on fire. I can tolerate harmless pranks, but one thing I cannot abide is liars who snoop.”

Iron Bull: “They say still waters run deep, and she’s no exception. She might appear all laughs and smiles, but that woman knows exactly what she’s doing. Don’t underestimate her.”

Dorian: “Ah, my darling Rev: she has excellent taste in literature and baked goods.” (if she romances Varric) “And dwarven merchant princes.”

Cassandra: “I doubted her intentions, at first, but she has proven herself quite useful to the Inquisition. If you see her, tell her to return my book, will you? She ‘borrowed’ a week ago, and I want to know what happens to the poor Guard Captain.”

Vivienne: “Mistress Cadash would do quite well at court; she understands the Game surprisingly well for one who’s not a courtier. Too strong from the onset, however: the idea is to gain a person’s trust, not frighten them into submission.”

Cullen: “I knew Mistress Cadash back in Kirkwall; I’d frequent Graywater Imports often. They carry three kinds of hair pomade there, did you know?”

Josephine: “Mistress Cadash has many useful connections throughout Thedas; I’m pleased she offers them to us so freely. But then, we’re making her a rich woman with all the business contracts. Quid pro quo, as the Tevinters say.”

Leliana: “Rev is a shrewd woman, fierce and good at her craft. Did you know that she has a pet nug in Kirkwall? She always has something for the birds when she comes here; I like her.”

 Trivia

It’s said that the young Varric Tethras wrote his  first novel, The Dasher’s Men, about Edric Cadash, Revka’s cousin. The femme fatale who assists the hero of the tale, Revka, is heavily inspired by Varric’s lover at the time, Revka Cadash. An autographed copy of The Dasher’s Men can be found in the rookery, where Revka sits.  

Revka adores cookies, and has been trying to get the secret brandy snap recipe off of her cousin, Edric, for years. She has tried everything  from recipe book publisher scams to impersonating the Viscount of Kirkwall’s chef to obtain the recipe

In party banter, Revka will mention her nug, Lucky, which, according to the short story, she won  during a rather raucous evening of Wicked Grace.

When Revka isn’t reading, answering correspondence, or training, she enjoys baking, sewing, and embroidery.

Despite being an adept businesswoman, Revka is terrible at bookkeeping, and will often complain about it to Varric… sometimes enlisting him to do it, with a bribe of cookies.

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 8: I Really Hate Water

The next few days I settled into a routine that felt almost normal, if you don't count the fact that I was getting lessons from satyrs, nymphs, and a centaur. Each morning I took Ancient Greek from Annabeth and sometimes Luke, and we talked about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which was kind of weird. I discovered Annabeth was right about my dyslexia: Ancient Greek wasn't that hard for me to read. At least, no harder than English. After a couple of mornings, I could stumble through a few lines of Homer without too much headache. The rest of the day, I'd rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something I was good at. I had struck around with Percy the whole time unless it was dinner time or night where I spent with Luke. Chiron tried to teach Percy and I archery, and we found out pretty quick he wasn't any good with a bow and arrow. He didn't complain, even when he had to desnag a stray arrow out of his tail. It was hilarious. While I on the other hand, could compete against Merida and Hawkeye with wining in favor of me. Foot racing? He sucked. The wood-nymph instructors and I left him in the dust. I told him not to worry about it. They'd had centuries of practice running away from lovesick gods. But I guess, it was a little humiliating to be slower than a tree. And wrestling? Forget it. Every time he got on the mat, Clarisse would pulverize him. Luckily I took some martial arts class back then and stood some chance against her. "There's more where that came from, punk," she'd mumble. The only thing he really excelled at was canoeing, and that wasn't the kind of heroic skill people expected to see from the kid who had beaten the Minotaur I guess. But hey, He's better at canoeing than me. I don't even know how I drowned all the time. Percy had to save me a couple of times. I knew the senior campers and counselors were watching us, trying to decide who our Olympian parent was, but they weren't having an easy time of it. I was as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids. I have Hephaestus's skill with metalwork, luckily I didn't have Dionysus's way with vine plants. Luke told me Percy might be a child of Hermes, a kind of jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I got the feeling he was just trying to make him feel better. He really didn't know what to make of me either. Despite all that, I liked camp. I got used to the morning fog over the beach, the smell of hot strawberry fields in the afternoon, even the weird noises of monsters in the woods at night. I would eat dinner with cabin eleven, scrape part of my meal into the fire, and try to feel some connection to my real parent. Nothing came. I tried not to think too much about my mom and dad, but I kept wondering: if gods and monsters were real, if all this magical stuff was possible, surely there was some way to save them, to bring them back.... Even D/N would do...

I started to understand Luke's bitterness and how he seemed to resent his father, Hermes. So okay, maybe gods had important things to do. But couldn't they call once in a while, or thunder, or something? Dionysus could make Diet Coke appear out of thin air. Why couldn't my parent, whoever they were, make a phone appear? Thursday afternoon, three days after we'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I had my first sword-fighting lesson. Everybody from cabin eleven gathered in the big circular arena, where Luke would be our instructor. We started with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor. I did okay. At least, I understood what I was supposed to do and my reflexes were good. The problem was, I couldn't find a blade that felt right in my hands. Either they were too heavy, or too light, or too long. Luke tried his best to fix me up, but he agreed that none of the practice blades seemed to work for me. We moved on to dueling in pairs. Luke announced he would be Percy's partner, since this was his first time. And then my turn after his, so I had to train with another kid from the cabin. "Good luck," one of the campers told us. "Luke's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years." "Maybe he'll go easy on me," Percy said. The camper snorted. By the time he called a break, I was soaked in sweat. Everybody swarmed the drinks cooler. Luke poured ice water on his head, which looked like such a good idea. I turned to talk to Percy and he had done the same. "Okay, everybody circle up!" Luke ordered. "If Percy doesn't mind, I want to give you a little demo." I wanted to try going against Luke as well. I wasn't confident with my skills. The Hermes guys gathered around. They were suppressing smiles. I figured they'd been in his shoes before and couldn't wait to see how Luke used Percy for a punching bag. He told everybody he was going to demonstrate a disarming technique: how to twist the enemy's blade with the flat of your own sword so that he had no choice but to drop his weapon. "This is difficult," he stressed. "I've had it used against me. No laughing at Percy, now. Most swordsmen have to work years to master this technique." He demonstrated the move on me in slow motion. Sure enough, the sword clattered out of his hand. "Now in real time," he said, after Percy had retrieved his weapon. "We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Percy?" He nodded, and Luke came after him. After a while of clashing, Percy tried the disarming maneuver. His blade hit the base of Luke's and he twisted. Clang. Luke's sword rattled against the stones. The tip of Percy's blade was an inch from his undefended chest. The other campers were silent. He lowered his sword. "Um, sorry." For a moment, Luke was too stunned to speak. I had a huge grin on my face. I had no idea why, but I was proud. I was so close on giving him an encore and all that. "Sorry?" Luke's scarred face broke into a grin. "By the gods, Percy, why are you sorry? Show me that again!" I didn't want to. The short burst of manic energy had completely abandoned me. But Luke insisted. This time, there was no contest. The moment our swords connected, Luke hit my hilt and sent my weapon skidding across the floor. After a long pause, somebody in the audience said, "Beginner's luck?" Luke wiped the sweat off his brow. He appraised at me with an entirely new interest. "Maybe," he said. "But I wonder what Percy could do with a balanced sword... ." My time with Luke wasn't as amazing as Percy's was but I wasn't that bad. Friday afternoon, I was sitting with Grover and Percy at the lake, resting from a near-death experience on the climbing wall. Grover had scampered to the top like a mountain goat, but the lava had almost gotten me. Percy and I's shirts had smoking holes in it. The hairs had been singed off our forearms. We sat on the pier, watching the naiads do underwater basket-weaving, I was resting my back on Percy's since I felt like any moment they'd drown me. Percy then ask Grover how his conversation had gone with Mr. D. His face turned a sickly shade of yellow. "Fine," he said. "Just great." "So your career's still on track?" He glanced at me nervously. "Chiron t-told you I want a searcher's license?" "Well... no." I had no idea what a searcher's license was, but it didn't seem like the right time to ask. "He just said you had big plans, you know... and that you needed credit for completing a keeper's assignment. So did you get it?" Percy said. Grover looked down at the naiads. "Mr. D suspended judgment. He said I hadn't failed or succeeded with you yet, so our fates were still tied together. If you got a quest and I went along to protect you, and we both came back alive, then maybe he'd consider the job complete." "Well, that's not so bad, right?" "Blaa-ha-ha! He might as well have transferred me to stable-cleaning duty. The chances of you getting a quest... and even if you did, why would you want me along?" "Of course I'd want you along!" Grover stared glumly into the water. "Basket-weaving... Must be nice to have a useful skill." I tried to reassure him that he had lots of talents, but that just made him look more miserable. Percy and him talked about canoeing and swordplay for a while, then debated the pros and cons of the different gods. Finally, I asked him about the four empty cabins. "Number eight, the silver one, belongs to Artemis," he said. "She vowed to be a maiden forever. So of course, no kids. The cabin is, you know, honorary. If she didn't have one, she'd be mad." "Yeah, okay. But the other three, the ones at the end. Are those the Big Three?" Grover tensed. We were getting close to a touchy subject. "No. One of them, number two, is Hera's," he said. "That's another honorary thing. She's the goddess of marriage, so of course she wouldn't go around having affairs with mortals. That's her husband's job. When we say the Big Three, we mean the three powerful brothers, the sons of Kronos." "Zeus, Poseidon, Hades." "Right. You know. After the great battle with the Titans, they took over the world from their dad and drew lots to decide who got what." "Zeus got the sky," I remembered. "Poseidon the sea, Hades the Underworld." "Uh-huh." "But Hades doesn't have a cabin here." "No. He doesn't have a throne on Olympus, either. He sort of does his own thing down in the Underworld. If he did have a cabin here..." Grover shuddered. "Well, it wouldn't be pleasant. Let's leave it at that." "Why though? What would children of Hades do then? How would they fend themselves?" "I-I don't know... Its not my idea not adding Hades!" He shrieked as if he was at fault and felt guilty. "But Zeus and Poseidon—they both had, like, a bazillion kids in the myths. Why are their cabins empty?" Percy changed the subject. Grover shifted his hooves uncomfortably. "About sixty years ago, after World War II, the Big Three agreed they wouldn't sire any more heroes. Their children were just too powerful. They were affecting the course of human events too much, causing too much carnage. World War II, you know, that was basically a fight between the sons of Zeus and Poseidon on one side, and the sons of Hades on the other. The winning side, Zeus and Poseidon, made Hades swear an oath with them: no more affairs with mortal women. They all swore on the River Styx." Thunder boomed.. . . . . .. I said, "That's the most serious oath you can make." Grover nodded. "And the brothers kept their word—no kids?" Grover's face darkened. "Seventeen years ago, Zeus fell off the wagon. There was this TV starlet with a big fluffy eighties hairdo—he just couldn't help himself. When their child was born, a little girl named Thalia... well, the River Styx is serious about promises. Zeus himself got off easy because he's immortal, but he brought a terrible fate on his daughter." "But that isn't fair.' It wasn't the little girl's fault." Grover hesitated. "Percy, children of the Big Three have powers greater than other half-bloods. They have a strong aura, a scent that attracts monsters. When Hades found out about the girl, he wasn't too happy about Zeus breaking his oath. Hades let the worst monsters out of Tartarus to torment Thalia. A satyr was assigned to be her keeper when she was twelve, but there was nothing he could do. He tried to escort her here with a couple of other half-bloods she'd befriended. They almost made it. They got all the way to the top of that hill." He pointed across the valley, to the pine tree where we'd fought the minotaur. "All three Kindly Ones were after them, along with a horde of hellhounds. They were about to be overrun when Thalia told her satyr to take the other two half-bloods to safety while she held off the monsters. She was wounded and tired, and she didn't want to live like a hunted animal. The satyr didn't want to leave her, but he couldn't change her mind, and he had to protect the others. So Thalia made her final stand alone, at the top of that hill. As she died, Zeus took pity on her. He turned her into that pine tree. Her spirit still helps protect the borders of the valley. That's why the hill is called Half-Blood Hill." I stared at the pine in the distance. The story made me feel hollow, and guilty too. A girl my age had sacrificed herself to save her friends. She had faced a whole army of monsters. "Grover," Percy said, "have heroes really gone on quests to the Underworld?" "Sometimes," he said. "Orpheus. Hercules. Houdini." "And have they ever returned somebody from the dead?" "No. Never. Orpheus came close... . Percy, you're not seriously thinking—" "No," Percy said. "I was just wondering. So... a satyr is always assigned to guard a demigod?" I looked over to him warily. "Not always. We go undercover to a lot of schools. We try to sniff out the half-bloods who have the makings of great heroes. If we find one with a very strong aura, like a child of the Big Three, we alert Chiron. He tries to keep an eye on them, since they could cause really huge problems." "And you found me. Chiron said you thought I might be something special." Grover looked as if I'd just led him into a trap. "I didn't... Oh, listen, don't think like that. If you were—you know—you'd never ever be allowed a quest, and I'd never get my license. You're probably a child of Hermes. Or maybe even one of the minor gods, like Nemesis, the god of revenge. Don't worry, okay?" I got the idea he was reassuring himself more than us. "What about me?" They looked at me. "Chiron said you didn't know I was a half-blood..." "We didn't. When you didn't forget who... Mrs Dodds was. We thought you just saw through the mist. Then when I saw you with Percy that night... and your parents aware of me and the camp. I assumed you were... a half-blood." "How about now? What do I smell like?" He looked at me gingerly then at Percy, "Nothing. You smell too human. Even for a very minor god. That's why there are plenty of satyrs then are confused as to why there's a human here. That night after dinner, there was a lot more excitement than usual. At last, it was time for capture the flag. When the plates were cleared away, the horn sounded and we all stood at our tables. Campers yelled and cheered as Annabeth and two of her siblings ran into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It was about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies ran in with another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a bloody spear and a boar's head. I turned to Luke and yelled over the noise, "Those are the flags?" "Yeah." "Ares and Athena always lead the teams?" "Not always," he said. "But often." "So, if another cabin captures one, what do you do— repaint the flag?" He grinned. "You'll see. First we have to get one." "Whose side are we on?" He gave me a sly look, as if he knew something I didn't. "We've made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And Percy's going to help." The teams were announced. Athena had made an alliance with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins. Apparently, privileges had been traded—shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities—in order to win support. Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. From what I'd seen, Dionysus's kids were actually good athletes, but there were only two of them. Demeter's kids had the edge with nature skills and outdoor stuff but they weren't very aggressive. Aphrodite's sons and daughters I wasn't too worried about. They mostly sat out every activity and checked their reflections in the lake and did their hair and gossiped. Hephaestus's kids weren't pretty, and there were only four of them, but they were big and burly from working in the metal shop all day. They might be a problem. That, of course, left Ares's cabin: a dozen of the biggest, ugliest, meanest kids on Long Island, or anywhere else on the planet. Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble. "Heroes!" he announced. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!" He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, oxide shields coated in metal. "Whoa," I said. "We're really supposed to use these?" Luke looked at me and laughed. "Unless you want to get skewered by your friends in cabin five. Here—Chiron thought these would fit. Do you want to be border patrol with Percy or come with me?" I smiled at him, "Tempting offer but I think I'll stay with Percy." "Your lost." He smirked then ruffled my hair. I went over to Percy who was holding a shield was the size of an NBA backboard, with a big caduceus in the middle. Our helmet, like all the helmets on Athena's side, had a blue horsehair plume on top. Ares and their allies had red plumes. "Looking at real good." I laughed. He frowned at me. "Like you look that different." "I am sporting this helmet just fine excuse you." I said picking up a dagger from the table. Annabeth yelled, "Blue team, forward!" We cheered and shook our swords and followed her down the path to the south woods. The red team yelled taunts at us as they headed off toward the north. Percy and I managed to catch up with Annabeth without him tripping over my equipment. "Hey." She kept marching. "So what's the plan?" Percy asked. "Got any magic items you can loan me?" Her hand drifted toward her pocket, as if she were afraid I'd stolen something. "Just watch Clarisse's spear," she said. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. Has Luke given you your job?" "Border patrol, whatever that means." "It's easy. Stand by the creek, keep the reds away. Leave the rest to me. Athena always has a plan." She pushed ahead, leaving me in the dust. "Okay," he mumbled. "Glad you wanted me on your team." "I don't want to be near the creek." I said anxiously. "Maybe I should just go with Luke..." Percy then took my hand. "Since when have I ever let you drown? Don't worry. I'll be there for you." He smiled. With a pout and a worried look I stuck out my pinky said, "Promise me." "I swear I will never let you drown. I will save you with all I can." He swore connecting our pinkies. "Everyone knows pinky promises are better than Styx." We laughed and made our way to our station not letting go of each other's hands. It was a warm, sticky night. The woods were dark, with fireflies popping in and out of view. Annabeth stationed us next to a little creek that gurgled over some rocks, then she and the rest of the team scattered into the trees. The bronze sword, like all the swords I'd tried so far, seemed balanced wrong. The leather grip pulled on my hand like a bowling ball. There was no way anybody would actually attack me, would they? I mean, Olympus had to have liability issues, right? Far away, the horn blew. I heard whoops and yells in the woods, the clanking of metal, kids fighting. A blue-plumed ally from Apollo raced past me like a deer, leaped through the creek, and disappeared into enemy territory. I lied down on the ground. "This is so boring." "Stand up, who knows when an enemy will show up." He scolded pulling me up. "I don't know... I think I'd rather shrivel and die." I shrugged. "Plus I know I got a knight in shining helmet to save me." "I mean yeah of course you do." "Luke's like few meters away after all." I smirked. He turned to me with a frown and a 'not funny' face. Which made me laugh. Then I heard a sound that sent a chill up my spine, a low canine growl, somewhere close by. I stood up and Percy pulled me behind him as he raised his shield instinctively; I had the feeling something was stalking me. Then the growling stopped. I felt the presence retreating. On the other side of the creek, the underbrush exploded. Five Ares warriors came yelling and screaming out of the dark. "Cream the punk!" Clarisse screamed. Her ugly pig eyes glared through the slits of her helmet. She brandished a five-foot-long spear, its barbed metal tip flickering with red light. Her siblings had only the standard-issue bronze swords—not that that made me feel any better. They charged across the stream. There was no help in sight. I could run and leave Percy. Or I could defend myself against half the Ares cabin with no more than 9 inch dagger and Percy Jackson. I managed to sidestep the first kid's swing, but these guys were not as stupid the Minotaur. They surrounded me and Percy, while Clarisse thrust at us with her spear. Percy's shield deflected the point. My hair stood on end. "Electricity. Her stupid spear was electric." Percy groaned and I pulled him back. Another Ares guy slammed me in the chest with the butt of his sword and I hit the dirt. They could've kicked me into jelly, but they were too busy laughing. "Y/N!!" Percy yelled but he had a sword pointed at his throat. "Give her a haircut," Clarisse said. "Grab her hair." I managed to get to my feet. I raised my dagger, but Clarisse slammed it aside with her spear as sparks flew. Now my arm numb. "Oh, wow," Clarisse said. "I'm scared of this guy. Really scared." "The flag is that way, let her go!" Percy told her. "Yeah," one of her siblings said. "But see, we don't care about the flag. We care about a guys who made our cabin look stupid." "You do that without my help," I told them. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to say. Someone took a hold of Percy so the sword was no longer pointed at him. Two of them came at me. I backed up toward the creek, tried to raise arm, but Clarisse was too fast. Her spear stuck me straight in the ribs. If I hadn't been wearing an armored breastplate, I would've been shish-ke-babbed. As it was, the electric point just about shocked my teeth out of my mouth. One of her cabinmates slashed his sword across my arm, leaving a good-size cut. Seeing my own blood made me dizzy—warm and cold at the same time. "No maiming," I managed to say. "Oops," the guy said. "Guess I lost my dessert privilege." "Y/N!! I will kill you all!!" He was thrashing around. "Let her go! She can't swim!!" "It's fun seeing your girlfriend suffer ain't it?" Clarisse laughed. The guy finally pushed me into the creek and I landed with a splash. They all laughed. I figured as soon as they were through being amused, I would die. I was sinking. I couldn't breathe. The water was pulling me for what felt like 10 meters deep. Blood were coming out at every wound I had. I was loosing consciousness. Help me. Please... -With Percy- Clarisse and her cabinmates came into the creek to get you, but you weren't there. "Hey, she's missing?" One of the cabinmate said. "What? It's like 3 meters deep. She's just there." Clarisse scoffed. "I's telling you she's can't swim! Water pulls her down! I will kill you if she doesn't survive!" Percy managed to get power from somewhere and got out of the hold. He knew what to do. I swung the flat of my sword against the first guy's head and knocked his helmet clean off. I hit him so hard I could see his eyes vibrating as he crumpled into the water. Then he jumped down. Hoping to see you somewhere. Muttering your name over and over in hopes to catch you. Save us He heard from his right. When he turned he finally saw you at the bottom. He swam with all could and got a hold of you. To haul you up. Finally surfacing, Percy panted and laid you of the ground. Pumping your chest. When the water finally came out of your mouth. Percy turned to glare at the people. Ugly Number Two and Ugly Number Three came at me. He slammed one in the face with his shield and used his sword to shear off the other guy's horsehair plume. Both of them backed up quick. Ugly Number Four didn't look really anxious to attack, but Clarisse kept coming, the point of her spear crackling with energy. As soon as she thrust, he caught the shaft between the edge of my shield and my sword, and I snapped it like a twig. "Ah!" she screamed. "You idiot! You corpse-breath worm!" She probably would've said worse, but Percy smacked her between the eyes with his sword-butt and sent her stumbling backward out of the creek. -Back to you- Coughing myself awake. Water came out of my mouth. "Percy..." I called. He turned so fast that I was surprised his neck didn't snap. "Y/N!" He ran to me and pulled me in a hug. I couldn't move, I felt tired and weak. "I want to sleep." I could feel my wounds stinging. Cold air hitting it. I felt sore despite barely moving. Then I heard yelling, elated screams, we both turned and I saw Luke racing toward the boundary line with the red team's banner lifted high. He was flanked by a couple of Hermes guys covering his retreat, and a few Apollos behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids. The Ares folks got up, and Clarisse muttered a dazed curse. "A trick!" she shouted. "It was a trick." They staggered after Luke, but it was too late. Everybody converged on the creek as Luke ran across into friendly territory. Our side exploded into cheers. The red banner shimmered and turned to silver. The boar and spear were replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of cabin eleven. Everybody on the blue team picked up Luke and started carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron cantered out from the woods and blew the horn. The game was over. We'd won. Percy carried me still with an angry expression and tense body. I wanted to reassure him but I knew it wouldn't work. Luke looked over and saw us. I could see his sudden shift of emotion. He wanted to approach but he was surrounded by every cabin. We then heard Annabeth's voice, right next to us in the creek, said, "Not bad, hero." I wanted to turn to see her but I couldn't. I could barely keep my eyes open. "Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?" she asked. The air shimmered, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head. She was now in front of us. I felt Percy tense up once more. "You set us up, You put us here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out." Annabeth shrugged. "I told you. Athena always, always has a plan." "Because of you, Y/N is like this." The venom in his voice were obvious. "I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in, but..." She shrugged. "You didn't need help." "I didn't. But Y/N did! And what did you do?! She could've died!" Percy was shaking. I could feel it. "Calm..." I managed to whimper. "What's that?" Annabeth pointed at Percy's neck. "A sword cut, obviously." "No. It was a sword cut. Look at it." The blood was gone. Where the huge cut had been, there was a long white scratch, and even that was fading. As I watched, it turned into a small scar, and disappeared. "I—I don't get it," Percy said. Annabeth was thinking hard. I could almost see the gears turning. She looked down at our feet, then at Clarisse's broken spear, and said, "Step out of the water, Percy." "What—" "Just do it." He came out of the creek and immediately I could feel myself better. Percy almost fell over, but I managed to hold him. "I got you." I panted. "Oh, Styx," she cursed. "This is not good. I didn't want... I assumed it would be Zeus... ." Before I could ask what she meant, I heard that canine growl again, but much closer than before. A howl ripped through the forest. The campers' cheering died instantly. Chiron shouted something in Ancient Greek, which I would realize, only later, I had understood perfectly: "Stand ready! My bow!" Annabeth drew her sword. I drew my dagger and pushed Percy behind me. There on the rocks just above us was a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers. It was looking straight at me. Nobody moved except Annabeth, who yelled, "Percy, Y/N, run!" She tried to step in front of me, but the hound was too fast. It leaped over her—an enormous shadow with teeth—and just as it hit me, I was pushed aside as Percy stumbled backward and its razor-sharp claws ripping through his armor, there was a cascade of thwacking sounds, like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after the other. "Stop that!!" I screamed and somehow managed to grab her. She turned to me sharply and stared me down. As if she was waiting for the perfect opportunity to jump me. It approached me and settled down at my feet, sitting down as if she was an obedient dog. She watched as I catch my breath. From the hounds neck sprouted a cluster of arrows. The monster fell dead at my feet. By some miracle, I was still alive, and wasn't even hurt. I instantly turned to look uat Percy. His chest wet, and I knew it was badly cut. Another second, and the monster would've turned him into a hundred pounds of delicatessen meat. Chiron trotted up next to us, a bow in his hand, his face grim. "Di immortales!" Annabeth said. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't... they're not supposed to... How did..." "Someone summoned it," Chiron said. "Someone inside the camp." Luke came over, the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone. Clarisse yelled, "It's all Y/N's fault! Y/N summoned it!" "Be quiet, child," Chiron told her. We watched the body of the hellhound melt into shadow, soaking into the ground until it disappeared. "You're wounded," Annabeth told Percy. "Quick, Percy, get in the water." "I'm okay." "No, you're not, Y/N get him to the water," she said. "Chiron, watch this." "No... She doesn't do well in water..." Percy choked. I carefully swung his arm around my shoulders and without thinking twice, I stepped back into the creek, the whole camp gathering around us. Instantly, I felt weak. I could feel the pulling me down. Some of the campers gasped. Percy who could barely stand few minutes ago got a hold of me. I could feel my consciousness loosing once again. "Look, I—I don't know why," Percy said, trying to apologize. "I'm sorry... But I need to get out of here. Y/N---" But they weren't watching Percy's wounds heal. They were staring at something above our head. "Percy," Annabeth said, pointing. "Um..." By the time I looked up, the sign was already fading, but I could still make out the hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming. A three-tipped spear: a trident. "Your father," Annabeth murmured. "This is really not good." "It is determined," Chiron announced. All around us, campers started kneeling, even the Ares cabin, though they didn't look happy about it. "My father?" Percy asked, completely bewildered. "Poseidon," said Chiron. "Earth shaker, Storm bringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God." Percy looked down at me. I wasn't sure what but I had the feeling it was somewhere along the lines, 'I am the reason you drown every time you step on water.' "You're claimed..." I managed to squeak. Percy stepped out of the water. "Congratulations." I smiled weakly.

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UwU Here's another chapter I am sorry for some holes in the story -kookie-doughs

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

[clintbartonruinedmylife]

Clint held captive by a younger beautiful blonde hydra boy with a huge dick and knows how to play Clint like a fiddle?

Took me some time. Sorry for that. Now, here we go :D

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“Fuck!” Clint cursed and slammed his fist at the locked door. It was futile. It was made of some metal - iron probably - and didn’t even have the decency to rattle. He leaned his back against it and slid down to the ground. 

It was such a rookie mistake and he fell for it. But when he had seen the boy he had just reminded him of Natasha and - idiot that he was - wanted to save him, too. The boy had smiled, had nodded… and then tazed him. 

And he woke up in this cell. 

“Fuck!” he cursed again. But when he heard a door slam from outside he rose and was ready to fight whoever would come. He was ready… but they were, too. And in the blink of an eye they had wrestled him down, had tied him up and dragged him out into the corridor. The boy was with them and he said something in Russian to them. 

“Who are you?” Clint snarled but the boy ignored him. He walked along the corridor and the men holding Clint followed him. He led them through a few corridors until he stopped at a white door. He unlocked it and opened it with a grin. 

Clint paled, when he saw what was inside. 

“No!” he breathed and struggled in the grip of the men who held him. “No!” 

The boy said something in Russian again and the men dragged him in. They shoved him onto the bed in the room, held him, tied his hands and feet to the bedposts and started to cut off his clothes. 

The boy watched them and grinned lecherous. 

“Are you even old enough for this?” Clint spat. “You’re what? Fifteen? Sixteen?” 

“I don’t mean to pry, but I’m twenty-three,” the boy said with a thick Russian accent and his grin turned ferocious. “People tend to underestimate me.” 

The men took the shreds of Clint’s clothes, salutated - and now Clint recognized them as Hydra - and left the room. 

“Who are you?” he asked when the boy circled the bed. 

“This is not how it works,” the boy… no, the young man said. “I ask questions and you will answer them.” 

“I will do fuck all!” 

“Oh, you will,” he grinned and started to unbutton his jacket. “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but you will.” 

“Never!” Clint spat and watched the young man shrug out of his shirt and his shoes and pants followed a moment later. Clint saw him palm his crotch and swallowed. The guy was not only rock hard, he unfortunately was also really well-hung. 

“We will see,” the guy said and removed his briefs, too. He rubbed his hard on and Clint saw precum glistening at the tip. This would hurt. 

When the young man climbed onto the bed with a lecherous smirk Clint gritted his teeth. SHIELD had trained him how to endure torture but this… this was different. Difficult. But he was sure he would be able to resist. 

The boy settled between Clint’s legs. Clint had tried to close them but the way his henchmen had tied him prevented it. So he just had to lie there and watch the guy stroke his huge cock again. 

”You will enjoy this,” he murmured and placed both his hands on Clint’s thighs. He pressed them to the sides. Clint glared at him and the guy chuckled. He reached behind himself, fumbled in his clothes and when he turned back he had lube in his hands. 

“No, I will not,” Clint hissed and tried to close his legs again. But the man just poured some lube on his fingers and pressed them in Clint’s anus. It hurt even more than he expected. 

“You should relax,” the young man said and lubed up his dick. He placed the head of his cock at Clint’s entrance and looked at him. When Clint pressed his lips together and turned his head the guy shrugged. And breached him. 

Clint bit his teeth so hard, he could hear them crunch. It hurt. It hurt so much. But then the boy shifted and he hit his sweet spot and Clint had to bite his lips not to groan. From one moment to the next it felt good. 

“Oh, you like it,” the young man whispered. He leaned down, leaned over Clint and moved inside of him and Clint squeezed his eyes shut. This was not supposed to feel good. This was supposed to hurt… this was… this was not right! He reached down, wrapped his hand around Clint’s dick and started to stroke it and - as much as he hated it - he became hard, too. 

“No,” he pressed through his teeth, tried to concentrate not to feel it, not to like it… and failed miserably. He came with a hoarse scream and the young man followed him over the edge only a few thrusts later. 

“You’re a good fuck,” the guy whispered in his ear when he pulled out and Clint pressed his lips tight together. “I will look forward to having you again. Tomorrow.” 

“I will not tell you anything,” Clint snarled and the boy leaned down, his lips only a few millimeters away from his.

“We will see, Hawkeye. We will see.” 

[iamwhoiamtmblr]

Title: Remember Who You Are

Story Rating: Chapter 15 - PG

Warnings:  Swearing, sadness, 

Relationships: Nomad Steve Rogers x Reader; Steve Rogers x Reader; Dark Steve Rogers x Reader

Master List - Link to Other Chapters

New Mood-board for the series. (Captain America photos property of Marvel)

***My work is to not be posted on any other site without my permission. If you see it anywhere other than Tumblr please inform me***

Nick Fury was staring at the monitor. (Y/N) was still missing and he just received word that Bucky Barnes’s (aka The Winter Soldier) mission was ambushed; mostly likely by Crossbones and his Skeleton crew. He just can’t figure out why Crossbones was so determined to hurt Steve.

Further, he was worried about Steve. With you missing and now Bucky’s mission was ambushed, how would Steve react? With you and Bucky in his life, he had become calmer, focused and most of all happy. Steve had been through so much in his life, he was happy Steve had stability. When you were taken all of that was gone. These last 10 months had been hard on him. It showed with him leading missions, training the Avengers and the new agents for SHIELD. He was hard on them, all of them!

Tony entered Fury’s office. “Any news on (Y/N)?” “Nope, it gets worse, one of the missions was ambushed.” “Who’s?” “Barnes. He’s been found alive along with 1 agent. Barnes is unconscious, coma maybe, beaten to hell according to the agent.” “WTF?? Does Steve know?” “Not yet. I don’t know how he will react.” “He hasn’t slept much since (Y/N) disappeared again. Where’s the rest of the team?” (Tony) “Still in the building; I’ve sent a text to them, meeting in 10 mins.” Tony leaves to go to the meeting.

Fury walked down the hall, pausing before entering the room. He knew what he was going to tell the team would put them on the edge. “Everyone here?” “Just Steve, he’s still his apartment. He was in the security room prior looking at all the footage. He’s determined to find her.” (Nat) “What’s going on?” (Bruce) “Bad news!” (Fury)

Steve finally arrives and enters the room shutting the door. “Bad news?” “Yes, Barnes is unconscious and beaten up bad, possible coma. His mission was ambushed.” (Tony)

Steve almost hit the floor. “HOW, WHO, WHEN???” “Not sure, still trying to get intel. All but 1 agent with Barnes were killed. He’s in a medical hospital too. We’re trying to get them back to the US.” (Fury) “Fuck!” (Hawkeye) “Ambushed, this is worse than we thought. Everything point to Steve.” (Vision) “We’re missing something here. What? Why?” (Wilson) Steve sits down trying to remain calm. “Now what?”

His girl is missing again and now his best friend was brutally attacked. This was getting too much for him.  Just then, a knock at the door, an admin assistant handed a package to Fury. “It’s for Rogers. We’ve checked the package, so far no danger but wear these gloves.” Fury opened the package, inside was a key chain with a Hydra symbol attached to it.

“What the hell? That’s the key to the car that was belonged to the Red Skull.” (Steve) Baffled, whoever sent you the package had obtained the car keys. “What does the Red Skull have to do with this?” (Fury) Everyone was looking at Steve. Steve shook his head… “I don’t know.” “Crossbones was a member of Hydra, that we do know.” (Hawkeye) “Yea but he wasn’t around back in the 1940’s.” (Wilson) “Where did the keys come from?” (Thor)

“The car was confiscated and put into a laboratory after the attack at the Hydra base by Captain Phillips; the day Steve went into the ice. After that it was in a storage facility.” (Fury) “Why would they want to keep the car?” (Rhodes) “It was a car ahead of its time; Tony’s father went through it with a fine tooth comb back in the 1940’s. Trying to see what technology it could provide.” (Fury) “Yea, but who got the keys?” (Wanda)

Steve felt defeated, why did this item from his past, his fight with the Red Skull show up. Everyone looked at Steve with concern. They knew Steve was exhausted.

“Steve, when was the last time you slept?” (Tony) “I just had a nap.” “You’re exhausted. Go get some more rest. That’s an order!” (Fury) Steve didn’t resist this time. He knew Fury was right.

Steve went back up to his apartment in the complex again. Nat followed him and entered behind him. She found Steve inconsolable, sobbing in his hands. Steve has been through so much in the last 12 months; the horrific 3 week mission, your kidnapping, missions (which he still had to do) and the search for you for the last 10 months. She put an arm around his shoulders.

“Why them? Why hurt them? If they want to hurt me, come and get me!”

“We’re doing everything we can. I know you don’t want to hear this but it’s going to take time to figure out what’s going.” (Nat)

“I feel so lost. She’s been gone so long, I finally got her back. I held her in my arms, I felt complete and now she’s missing again. I just want her back.” Steve sobbed. “I lost all that time in the ice, living in this new time, my life felt empty, just missions and work. It all changed when I met (Y/N). Another whole new world opened up before my eyes. I finally feel like I’m alive again. She means everything to me.”

“You love her that much?” “Yes. I have from the start, from the first day I met her; her eyes and her smile.” Steve puts his head back down. “What about Peggy? I thought you love her.” “No, I love Y/N. I was in love with Peggy, but not anymore. I thought about it for a long time. The man who loved Peggy went into the ice back then and what I am now came out.” “Wow, you know with all the technology Tony’s coming up, what if you had the possibility of being with Peggy again?”

“No, I want Y/N. I thought this all through. I thought of my life would be like without Y/N and it scared me. It scared me so much that I don’t want to lose her. I want her by my side. I miss her so much when I’m on missions. I bought the house so I could protect her. The idea of her being there when I got home made me so happy; waiting for me with open arms. I knew she would be safe if I knew where she was. Man was I wrong. If I hadn’t gone on that mission, she would be here right now.”

“You don’t know that Steve! It’s not your fault. We’ll get her back. I promise.” Steve shook his head. “I want to be alone Nat.”

Natasha couldn’t believe her ears. She was shocked. Anytime Steve spoke of the past, he couldn’t stop talking about Peggy. She was the love of his life and Nat can’t believe that you won Steve’s heart from Peggy. Nat hugged Steve and then she left the room. She hated seeing her friend so distraught.

You have made Steve happy, content, alive and complete.   He felt that he had everything he wanted in his life now and it’s all because of you. Stability - someone who was there for him when he got home. His feelings of being lonely were gone.   Real love - someone who loved him for who he is, not what he is.   Hope - for a brighter future, family, children. Something he never thought would happen when he was the sickly man back in March 1941, before the serum changed all that.

Saving the world meant something to him again; he had a purpose. Most of all, keeping the world safe for you. Being a SHIELD agent meant you had to go on dangerous missions. He didn’t want that for you. If he eliminated the threats himself, you wouldn’t have to.

Steve went to his desk, he pulled out a memory frame; one of Tony’s new-fangled devices. It contained all the pictures he had of you and him; pictures of you and Steve in happier times; smiling. Going through the pictures of you made him smile but at the same time, tears went down his cheek. “Where are you Y/N?”

[theshatteredrose]

Fighting For You (Chapter 9) - Trials of Mana Fanfiction

AN: Sorry for the wait, but here’s the second last chapter for you all to enjoy~

Chapter 9:

Hawkeye panted quietly as he waited impatiently for the knight to finally fall, in an overly dramatically manner, to their knees and crumble into nothingness. Those knights were a tough bunch, alright. Especially with that annoying shield.

But when they weren’t taking a battle stance, they were slow and cumbersome. Just meandering around the battlefield without much focus. Made it easy to simply slip behind them and attack their backs. They were completely vulnerable there.

That reminded him. When they got out of this dump and back to their mission, he needed to keep a close eye on Duran’s backside. Ah, he meant back. Ya know, being valuable-vulnerable there!

After a few short, but still agonisingly long seconds, the knight finally succumbed to defeat and dissipated in a plume of dark purple smoke.

And there on the floor, somehow glinting despite the lack of light, was a silver key.

Finally, his third key.

“We mustn’t delay! We need to return to Duran immediately!”

Hawkeye jumped at Undine’s sudden voice causing his ears to ring. He soon uttered a sigh, however. He wasn’t used to having Elementals chittering away in his head, piping up unexpectedly. How did Duran put up with them?

“No time!” Undine chimed in again. “Hurry!”

The obvious panic in her voice prompted Hawkeye to tense, his grip on his weapons tightening. Had something already happened to Duran?

“Several flowers have already blossomed.”

What? Damn it!

Hawkeye snatched up the key and placed it into his pocket with the other two keys. As he turned and sprinted down the windowless hallway, he kept one hand on his pocket to ensure the safety of the keys, and the other wielding his knife. Just in case some idiot decided to stand in his way.

He really wasn’t in the mood for any surprises.

The hallway was agonizingly long. No windows. Just half hanging, ruined portraits and a ratty, torn red carpet. It was unsettling to think that these halls were the ones that Duran had endured in his nightmares.

The door at the end of the hall was closed, but Hawkeye had no trouble throwing it open and stepping out onto the landing.

“Hey, sorry for the wait, but I’m back~”

“Me too! Back with keys!”

Hawkeye had wanted to make a grand entrance, but he didn’t mind sharing the limelight with Kevin.

Still entangled within the vines and chains, Duran managed to defy his bindings enough to twist around to look over at them. His face was surprisingly pale and he looked unnervingly tired. But he did have a relieved smile on his face.

However, he suddenly tensed and grew ridged as he threw his head back. And released a scream of pain.

That…was a sound he had never, ever heard from Duran before.

“What? What happened?” Hawkeye demanded, swallowing back his panic as he leapt down the stairs.

In a flash of light, Faerie quickly appeared and fluttered hastily over to him. “It’s the flowers! They’re draining him of his energy! Oh, if only Dryad was here. She could remove them…”

What? Had Duran been in pain the entire time?!

As Duran fell limp against his bindings, allowing them to restrain him without struggle, the sound of sharp, quick footsteps was heard. The resounding metal clang with each step revealed that whoever was approaching at a brisk, determined pace wore a heavy suit of armour.

Another knight?

“I didn’t expect you two to actually succeed…”

Hawkeye unsheathed his knives and immediately narrowed in on the direction of the voice. Just as he had suspected, a knight in a mishmash of coloured armour. They, likely that of a man, stood in the foyer before the opened entrance doors and several feet from where Duran was being held.

“And who’s that supposed to be?” Hawkeye muttered as Kevin bristled next to him.

“Agnar,” Faerie explained, her voice a mix of fear and surprising bitterness. “The one responsible for all of this.”

Was he now?

“Hey. We've got the keys. How do we use them to release Duran? Tell me!”

Agnar stood stock still. Unnaturally so. "That's something for you to work out. Better do it quickly.”

Just as he said that, Duran uttered another pained scream. Chains rattled and vines rustled before the sound of harsh panting followed.

Despite knowing to never turn his back to an enemy, Hawkeye whirled around and stared up at Duran.

He really wished he hadn’t.

A light sheen of sweat dampened his skin. Beads dripping along his arms. His face was flushed, and yet was still pale. His breathing was short, harsh as he hung limply, submissively against his bindings.

And his eyes…his eyes were hazy, glazed over. Likely in a desperate attempt to focus on speaking with the Elementals. To ignore the pain.

The see him in such a state. To hear him scream…how much pain was he in?

How many flowers were left to bloom?

“Don’t understand,” Kevin said, his voice both confused but angry. “Why? Why are you hurting Duran?”

“Because he is a swordsman.”

Hawkeye faltered. Was that it? “Why such hatred for swordsmen?”

Agnar shook his head, the helmet rattling unnervingly with the movement. “It is not the swordsmen I detest. I loathe the ones who pull the strings of knights. Those who demand knights and soldiers to devote their lives for the selfishness of others. By taking away the knights, these selfish leaders are forced to fight their own battles. Forced to face their responsibilities on their own. Face the consequences of their own actions and not force them upon others.”

“Ok, so…” Hawkeye drawled, high-key sceptical. “You’re making those people pay by taking away their knights?”

“Don’t…don’t lie,” Duran suddenly stated, his voice tired but still holding a sense of determination. “You’re bitter because you’ve lost your skills as a swordsman, so you’re actively stealing those skills from others.”

Wait, what?

“No, can’t do that!” Kevin shook his head frantically, angrily. “Duran’s skills are his! Not yours! He trained hard himself. He’s strong.”

A flash of blue from the corner of his eye prompted Hawkeye’s instincts turn in its direction. While in the short process of turning, a loud scream was heard once more. And he immediately knew what it was.

A flower had bloomed.

“No, that’s the seventh flower…” Faerie whispered, on the verge of tears. She soon turned her fear into anger and she whirled around to face Agnar. Though she was far from intimidating, her voice was still heartbreaking. “Stop it! You’re going to kill him!”

“Death is far better than a life of slavery,” Agnar responded coldly, callously.

“You don’t have the right to make that decision!”

Hawkeye would have launched himself at the guy if he hadn’t heard the low growl from his right. He risked a quick glance in Kevin’s direction, immediately recognising that he was trembling. Twitching. His hands clenching and unclenching.

“No,” he muttered with a harsh shake of his head. “No, won’t let it. Won’t let you take Duran. I won’t.”

Kevin suddenly threw his head back on a growl as he transformed into his beastman form. “I won’t!”

Before anyone could react, including the stoic Agnar, Kevin lunged forward.

And delivered a powerful, and oh-so satisfying punch to the guy’s helmet.

Agnar flew backwards several feet, the metal of his arms scraping and clanging as he slammed into the solid wall behind him. He slid down the cracked wall to the ground, clearly stunned. He sluggishly reached for his sword that rested upon his back and staggered to his feet.

Kevin, however, wasn’t satisfied with a single punch.

He was angry. To put it mildly.

Perfect. Time for Hawkeye get to work, too!

“Kevin!”

Kevin suddenly reached behind him and snatched a small leather sachet. “Here!” he shouted as he threw the bag at him.

Hawkeye instinctively caught it, trusting that it contained the keys he had gathered. He spun on his heel just as Duran released yet another ear-splitting, heart-wrenching scream of pain.

Damn it, that was the eighth flower to bloom!

Just five more to go. He couldn’t waste any more time!

“Hold on!” Hawkeye shouted up at Duran as he paused before the flowerbed of vines and chains. “I’ll figure this out!”

Somehow…

Listlessly, Duran continued to breathe raggedly as he turned his head slightly to the side to look down at him. Though he was in obvious pain, though he looked pale, though his eyes were glazed and unable to focused; he somehow managed to give him a small smile.

“Don’t…Don’t worry about me. Do what you have to do. Th-there’s still a few more flowers left to bloom.”

That…

Idiot. Trying to act brave when he was in pain.

Where could the locks be?!

“Th-they came from the flower bed,” Duran panted breathlessly. “Check…check there.”

Hawkeye wasn’t fond of gardening, but he was used to digging through dirt in order to find hidden treasure.

With the use of his knife, Hawkeye hastily slashed at the grass and flowers, stabbing at the dirt in a précised, searching manner. Hoping desperately that he would hear the sound and feel the impact of something solid.

…Aha, found one!

Stabbing his knife into the dirt, Hawkeye grasped the chain with both hands and pulled with all his might. The chain only gave away slightly, but it was enough to reveal a familiar and oh-so incredibly relieving sight of a pad lock.

It was a normal looking padlock. Silver and flawless. Other than the number and, surprisingly, a name. He didn’t know who Leonhart was, but he knew what the number stood for.

With one hand on the chain, the other hastily dug through his pocket. He had found the number five key himself.

Hawkeye wasted no time grasping the key and shoving it forcibly into the padlock. It slid into place easily and as he turned it sharply, there was a satisfying click. And the lock popped open with barely a noise.

The chain then dissipated into a display of shimmering white light. As it did so, Hawkeye heard a small sigh of relief from Duran above him.

Finally!

Ok. Just had to do that six more times and Duran should be free of the chains. The vines? Well, hopefully with the chains gone, they’ll be easier to deal with.

Hastily digging through the ground around the other six chains, Hawkeye felt the vines cut through his gloves, breaking the skin in cuts and scrapes. But he ignored the mild stinging sensation. It was nothing compared to the pain that Duran had suffered through already.

Two more flowers had bloomed as Hawkeye removed four chains. Though it was hard not to look up toward Duran, he kept his head down. And focused at the task at hand.

Only two chains left.

Three flowers left.

As Hawkeye focused on getting the second last key out of his pocket, he heard a loud crash behind him. Abruptly remembering that Kevin was engaging Agnar in a fight, he risked a quick glance over his shoulder.

And smirked.

Kevin had a hold of Agnar’s leg and was effortlessly hurling him around. Literally. Slamming him into the floor, breaking a few floorboards. Throwing him into walls, breaking yet more plaster.

Hawkeye wanted to laugh at the sight. Kevin was honestly pummelling the ever-loving crap out of Agnar. Totally warranted. And a shame he couldn’t participate. By the time he got Duran freed and checked on him, the battle was likely to be over.

With the sixth chain dealt with, Hawkeye hurried over to the seventh. Which, ironically was labelled as seven, too. It appeared to be the main chain. The one that was most restricting.

Just one more left.

Blood from the cuts on his hands smeared the otherwise flawless silver lock. He paid little mind to the name engraved upon the metal and hastily slid the key inside. He half expected some kind of resistance. Something just to scream them over because that was what enemies like Agnar tended to do.

Instead, and thankfully, the key clicked into place readily. And the chain dissipated in the seconds following.

Finally! Only the vines left!

Grasping both of his knives, Hawkeye leapt to his feet. With a series of well-aimed slashes, he cut through the vines effortlessly. As his knives cut through the vines, they turned black and slowly disintegrated into ash.

And finally, Duran was free.

Hawkeye winced when Duran fell to the ground in a rather undignified heap, lying on his back as he breathed heavily. He was unlikely to have been hurt from the fall, though. If he could survive being shot out of a canon without a scrape, them a seven-foot drop should be a piece of cake.

Still, Hawkeye scrambled over to him and slipped his arm around his shoulders. “You ok?” he asked as he helped Duran to sit up.

Duran didn’t answer at first. Too busy trying to catch his breath and gather his wits. He then did something quite surprising; he turned toward him and though it appeared to take a lot of effort, slipped his arms around his neck. And clung onto him as he rested his chin upon his shoulder and leaned heavily against. “Hawkeye, thank you.”

Hawkeye didn’t hesitate in hugging Duran back. “Don’t mention it.”

“You may have released him, but this is far from over!”

Agnar’s shrilled voice caused Hawkeye to wince and for Duran to tense in his arms. Hawkeye kept an arm around Duran’s waist as the swordsman leaned back slightly to look over in the direction they heard Agnar’s voice.

Despite the pure pummelling he had received from Kevin, the dints and scrapes in his armour a clear physical sign of that, Agnar was still on his feet.

The guy was tough, no denying that.

“I will have his skills,” Agnar threatened lowly. “I will have him.”

Hawkeye swallowed back a growl as he unconsciously pulled Duran closer toward him. “Not a chance.”

“Kevin, take him outside!” Faerie suddenly instructed frantically. “His power is contained within this mansion!”

“On it!” Kevin quickly returned.

“This isn’t over!” Agnar bellowed. Clearly enraged, and yet there was no denying the hint of fear in his voice.

“Yes it is!” Kevin simply retorted.

With barely a pause, Kevin dug his claws into the Agnar’s chest plate, piercing the metal easily. He then did a half turn and hurled the armoured knight over his shoulder. And out the opened front doors of the mansion. The rattling of metal and steel was heard as Agnar unceremoniously rolled and tumbled along the grass and dirt outside.

With another loud growl, Kevin wasted no time in jumping out after him to continue the battle.

Honestly, that kid was something else.

As he helped Duran to his feet, the swordsman suddenly snared one of his hands with his. “Hawkeye, your hands…”

For the umpteenth time in the last five minutes, Hawkeye winced. The cuts on his hands had thankfully clotted, so wasn’t bleeding fresh blood. Allowing him to nonchalantly dismiss Duran’s guilt. “Don’t worry about that. Worry about yourself for once.”

Duran stubbornly shook his head as he reached down and picked up his sword. “I’ll worry about that later,” he said and drew in a long intake of air before releasing it slowly. “Come on, we’ve got an enemy to fight. Can’t let Kevin have all the fun.”

“You got it~”

[lovemesomerafael]

Destroying The Planet To Save It   Chapter 16:  Subtle Is For Amateurs

                             Chapters 1-15          Read It On AO3

Sometime during the afternoon, several additional team members arrived at Stark Tower.  The whole team hadn’t assembled, however. Thor, for one, was completely occupied fighting for the survival of Asgard.  He had been briefly interested in the fact that the enemy appeared to be able to control weather, asking with affronted ire, “Who dares to usurp my throne as God of Thunder!”, only to instantly deflate and lose interest when he learned that the phenomena weren’t natural.  Dr. Strange hadn’t even taken Steve’s call, instead assigning a functionary to apologize profusely (and to lie entirely unconvincingly), saying that Dr. Strange was currently off-world.   Nobody, including Tony, currently knew where Rhodey was.  And for whatever reason, Tony wouldn’t even hear of calling on Peter Parker.  Steve wasn’t entirely disappointed; that kid really needed to learn to shut up during a fight.  

Bucky wasn’t surprised to see Clint Barton come bounding into the training room with Wanda Maximoff walking sedately behind him.

“Barnes, quit aiming that rubber gun at her.  I want to introduce Joss to Wanda.”

Bucky was surprised, as always, by how young Wanda was.  Given her abilities and accomplishments, he didn’t really think of her as a kid, but that’s what she was.  This time, though, she seemed to have a little more… self-assurance than she’d had the last time Bucky had seen her.  Her time away from the team, alone with Vision, was apparently good for her.

“You know this idiot,” Clint said, pulling Wanda past Bucky as she breathed a hurried, “Hi” to him.

“This is Joss.  This is who I wanted you to meet.  Well, actually, I wanted her to meet you.  She’s just learning to use her ability.”

Wanda smiled at Joss.  “He says you’re telekinetic?”

Joss flushed a little, clearly uncomfortable. “Nothing like you.  I’m just a – I can move stuff, that’s it.  And only what I’d be able to move physically.  I hear you throw trucks.”

“Only when necessary,” Wanda chuckled.  

“Actually, Joss can do more than just move stuff,” Bucky added.  “You guys wanna see something?”

Clint and Wanda stepped together, curiosity evident in their expressions.  

Bucky took a stance a few feet from them, while Joss walked about ten feet across the room, then turned to face him.  He held the rubber AR-15 up, as though aiming it at her.  For a few moments, nothing happened.  Then, suddenly, the weapon twisted itself out of Bucky’s grip and flew to Joss, who caught it.  

“Awesome!”  Clint cried.

“He was barely holding it,” Joss said, returning to the group.  “We’re still working on that move.”

Bucky clapped Joss on the shoulder.  “But we’ll get there.”

Seemingly apropos of nothing, Joss looked at Wanda and said, “I can’t aim.”

“I remember that,” Wanda responded, apparently understanding completely.  “There’s a trick to it.”  

Joss smiled, encouraged, and Wanda turned to Bucky and Clint.  “How about you guys give us some time to get to know each other?”

Bucky and Clint looked at one another, surprised and a little disappointed, but didn’t argue.  Shuffling out of the gym, they climbed the stairs to the residences side by side.

“Looks like you guys made some good progress today.”

“Yeah, more than I would’ve guessed,” Bucky agreed. “She’s a good student, which surprises me.   I kinda expected her to fight me.  She really hates being a mutant.”

“Can’t say I blame her.  Lotta assholes out there.”

Bucky sighed in response, opening the door from the stairway to the elevator lobby for Clint.

“So, I got some weird vibes from you two this morning.  Something happen?”

“Not like what happened with you and Natasha,” Bucky responded, smirking.

“Who says anything happened with me and Tasha?”

“Yeah, right.”

Clint’s smile lit his whole body.  “I’m in love, bro.”

“That ain’t new.”

“No, but she wants to give it a real try. She’s ready now, and it’s…”  Clint could only smile more widely (a little idiotically, Bucky thought, but he let it go), and make a vague gesture that ended with his hand over his heart.  

“Happy for you, dude.  Both of you.  Maybe tell her to watch it with the teeth, if you’re trying to be subtle about it,” Bucky grinned, pointing to a large bruise with a definite bite mark in it where Clint’s neck and shoulder met.  

“Fuck that,” Clint laughed.  “Subtle is for amateurs.”

Bucky passed through the lounge area and into the kitchen.  He briefly greeted Scott Lang, who was standing hunched over in the open doors of the large refrigerator, peering into the back.  When it became clear he wasn’t going to move, Bucky reached around him for a bottle of water.  He held it up to Clint, who nodded from where he’d sprawled out on a couch.

Bucky grabbed another bottle and, re-crossing the room, handed it to Clint.  “Better hydrate,” he said.  “Between you and Natasha, I’m thinkin’ we’re not talking tame or infrequent.”

“You’d be right about that,” Clint answered, toasting Bucky cockily with the bottle before taking a drink.  “But you didn’t answer my question.  What’s up with you and Joss?”

Bucky frowned.  “She hates me.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious from the way she can’t take her eyes off you.”

“Whatever.  Not gonna happen, so…”

“I don’t get it.  And if you’re not gonna go for it with her, then…”

“Do you have any idea how many ways Natasha knows to kill you?”

“Hah!  You’re jealous.  So spill. Dr. Hawkeye is in.  Vat seems to be ze problem?”  He asked, with the worst attempt at a German accent ever.

“Ze problem is that we’re – you know, the team – we’re in magazines and shit.  And she says all of this,” he gestured around, “is, and I’m quoting here, above her pay grade.”

A look of genuine concern came over Clint’s handsome features.  “Yeah. I can see that.”

“I don’t give a fuck about any of that stuff, you know that.”

“’Course I do.  But look at it from her perspective.  What if you were still Bucky from Brooklyn, and you got a shot with some movie babe?  They had movies back then, didn’t they?  Electricity? Light?”

“Fuck you,” Bucky grinned.

“Well?  You’re such a cocky fucker, maybe it wouldn’t be a problem for you.  But, I mean, everything we do is news of one kind of another.  Either we’re savin’ the world, or blowing shit up, or takin’ out some nest of bad guys. And you?  You’re so disgustingly handsome, you’re news when you fucking breathe. You could have hot and cold running babes, if you wanted.  I never seen you take advantage of that, but you could.  A lot of normal people are intimidated by all that.  We’re…  You’re… a lot, dude.”

“She hangs out with the damn President!  You’re tellin’ me he’s not news?”

“He’s her job.  You’re talking about her life. Her heart.  Whole different thing, man.”

“Well, since I seem to be stuck with you assholes, and this face, I guess that’s that.”

“Not necessarily.  Give her time.  She’s only been around this shit for, what, like a week?”

Bucky grunted, slouched in the big, soft chair. For a while, they drank their water in silence before Scott, empty-handed despite his extended fridge recon, came and sat with them.  After that, conversation turned to other topics, although Bucky was still mulling over what Clint had said.

*****

Steve spent much of the day stewing.  There simply wasn’t much for him to do when the work was all in the hands of those more competent to perform it.  Once there was an enemy, a force to stop, Steve would be in his element.  But right now, there was little he could do.  

With that thought came a familiar, immense, monstrous weight.  Steve took a huge breath through his nose and let it out as slowly and steadily as he possibly could.  Sometimes that helped.  Not today. He glanced across the table at Sharon, who was scowling at a series of printouts, translations of the notes Clint and Natasha had found in the underground bunker in Washington, D.C. Her beautiful face, usually so serenely confident and sunny, now looked as troubled and exhausted as he felt.  

Steve stood, using every ounce of energy he could to appear nonchalant as he scooted his chair back from the table and strode from the conference room.  He tried to be quiet as he pushed open the door to the stairwell, then set off to run the ten floors to the roof.  

Exercise usually soothed him, gave him a focus and an outlet for whatever he happened to be feeling.   In fact, that morning, he’d channeled quite a bit of his anxiety over whatever Jarman Arias – or whoever – was up to, into a punishing upper-body workout with weights, followed by an hour with the punching bag.  Well, punching bags.  He’d gone through two.  Even Bucky had laughingly commented that he was unusually enthusiastic about their sparring.  When Steve had told him why, Bucky had simply shrugged, grinned, and retaken his defensive stance.

“Then bring it, punk.  You can take it out on me.  Just don’t expect me to go easy on you, either.”  

When he arrived on the roof, Steve was barely breathing hard, and felt only the slightest dampness at his hairline. Still, the fresh air, and the wind this high up above the city, were refreshing.  He stretched his arms as far over his head as he could, face up toward the sun, breathing in the outdoor air.  The roar of the city was soothing in a way he felt no need to explain to himself.

He put his hands on the railing surrounding the roof and looked out over Manhattan.  So many people.  So many people in the boroughs hidden from sight in the hazy air obscuring the horizon. So many people in other cities, across the country, across the oceans, around the globe.  And he was responsible for all of them.  He looked down to see the endless line of people hurrying along the sidewalk below, minds focused on their own errands, their own problems and cares, secure in the knowledge that they were safe from invasion or attack, because Captain America was on the job.  Well, guess what, Citizens of Earth?  Captain America needed a fucking vacation.  

To his annoyance, Steve heard the door from the stairway open and close, and steps scuffing along the rough, pebbly surface of the roof.  He sighed deeply and turned his head as whoever it was approached, and was shocked to see Phil Coulson, Director of the new S.H.I.E.L.D., standing next to him.  Coulson reached into the jacket of his ubiquitous navy blue suit and pulled out the last thing Steve would have expected: a pack of cigarettes.  

“You’re kidding,” Steve grinned in amused surprise.

Coulson merely shook out a cigarette and handed Steve the pack.  

“I don’t smoke,” Steve said.

“You were in the Army in World War II,” Coulson replied around the cigarette he was lighting.  “You smoke.”

Steve surprised himself by shaking a cigarette out and trading the pack for Coulson’s expensive-looking monogrammed silver lighter. “Nice,” Steve muttered as he flicked the flame to life.

“It’s supermagnetic if you know how to activate the switch.  It’ll attract and stop a bullet.  Hurts like a motherfucker and leaves a perfectly rectangular bruise, but you know. Beats getting shot.”

Steve nodded.  “Guess you’ve had to use it?”

Coulson shrugged and let out a stream of smoke. “Some parts of my job suck.”

“Yeah.  Same.”

“That’s what I came early to talk to you about, actually.”

“Oh?”  Steve asked as they stood shoulder to shoulder, smoking and looking out over the city.  

“You look like shit, Rogers.  You sound like shit.  Carter tells me you sleep like shit.”

Steve shook his head disgustedly.  “Shoulda known you’d have her reporting back to you on me.”

Coulson’s mirthless guffaw surprised Steve.  “You think even I could get her to do that? But I can read between the lines, and I’m very observant.  I also notice you’re not denying it.”

“No,” Steve sighed.  “I’m not denying it.”

Coulson nodded and they smoked in silence for a while before he asked, “Do you know how many employees S.H.I.E.L.D. has?”

“No.”

Coulson blinked.  “OK, actually, neither do I, but it’s a lot.  A whole building full, in fact, not to mention all the ones out in the field.  There are a whole team of avengers, in addition to a number of other members of your team. My point is, you’re not exactly a sole proprietor, Captain Rogers.”

“Never said I was.”

“Really.  Huh. Must’ve misheard you, then.” Coulson crushed out the butt of his cigarette and turned to go back inside the building.

“What about you?”  Steve called to him.

He stopped and turned around.  “What about me?”

“How do you sleep?”

“I sleep like a baby.  You know why?  Because I know I can’t save the world on my own.  So I don’t worry about trying.  I recruit the best people I can find, and I make sure they stay clean and loyal.  Rumor has it I’m somewhat of a dick about that. A rumor I started, by the way.”  

“What’s your point?”

“What’s my point?  I should think that’s rather obvious.  Either you trust your team, in which case you’re wasting valuable energy worrying, or you don’t, in which case you need a new team.  This idea you have that you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders?  It’s bunk. And it’s destroying you.”  

Again, Coulson turned around and headed for the stairway down into the Tower.  He stopped just as he reached the door.  “Oh, and one more thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Figure things out with Stark.  You need each other.  You balance each other out.  This break with him, it’s part of the reason you’re in trouble.”

With that, Director Coulson went through the door, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts, staring out over the city from the roof of Stark Tower.

*****

Sam had thought Anita was special from the moment he laid eyes on her during an operation to rescue a group of physicists who’d been kidnapped by a would-be supervillain.  She had a swagger about her, earned through several years of increasingly more difficult missions.  Of course, she was also beautiful, with her long, black hair and almond-shaped, deep brown eyes fringed by ridiculously long lashes.  More attractive even than her looks was the sense of adventure that bubbled just beneath the surface.  

Today, he was learning quite a bit more about her. Their work at Arias’s villa had proven her to be clever and fearless, but the analysis she’d done of the records from Arias’s bunker was even more impressive.  She’d taken about fifteen minutes to crack the code in which the records were written. Once she explained how it worked, it was obvious that it had taken some serious brainpower to figure it out at all, let alone so quickly.  Of course, it helped that she was a native Spanish speaker, so there was no added difficulty from the fact that the records were in Spanish.  But that didn’t at all diminish the difficulty of what she’d done, and she’d done it seemingly effortlessly.

She had spent the afternoon scouring the records for every mention of something referred to simply as the “resource.”  The more she’d worked on it, the more convinced she had become that this “resource,” whatever it was, was the missing link between the energy-creating machines and the destructive phenomena they caused.  All afternoon, she had typed furiously on her laptop, taking notes and systematically developing and exploring theories in a systematic way that finally resulted in a series of ranked hypotheses about what the “resource” might be.  

Whatever it was, it was consumed in the process of creating one of the phenomena.  Which changed the analysis considerably.  Vision had been almost comically animated when she’d delivered her work product to him.  Vision would be testing it against all the scientific data the team had gathered.  

They still had over an hour left before the team dinner.

“So, what would you like to do with that hour?” Sam asked, trying his best not to look wolfish.  Because he felt wolfish.  

“Actually, I have a great idea,” she answered, and she looked unabashedly wolfish.

Sam gave her a suggestive, crooked smile.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Stark says there’s a firing range.”

Firing range.  Not what Sam was hoping for.  

“Yeah.  Yeah, there is.  It’s on the lowest level of the building, below the underground garage.  You want me to take you there?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Like everything else at Stark Tower, the firing range was state of the art.  Sam was curious to see what Anita could do.  He knew S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were required to be able to handle multiple types of firearms, and pass stringent quarterly skills testing, but he wanted to watch Anita firing her weapon.  He was attracted to talent and skill, and something about the athletic way she moved, and the way he’d seen her she handle her sidearm, suggested that he was going to enjoy this.  

He had no idea.

Sam’s Steyr SPPs were semiautomatic only, he couldn’t very well use them for target practice.  For that, he used his Beretta 92FS Inox. He’d noticed that Anita wore a H & K P30, which he had some thoughts about, but wasn’t about to voice them.  Not unless she asked.  

He helped her get fitted out with ear and eye protection, and showed her to a firing lane.

“Is it messed up that I think you look hot as hell right this minute?”  He asked, grinning mischeviously.

“Probably.  But I gotta tell you, I’m struggling with my baser urges right now, too.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “You tryin’ to get me all worked up, throw off my aim?”

“How’s it workin’?” Anita smirked.

Sam just shook his head and took his place in the adjacent lane.

Anita smoked him. Absolutely smoked him.  Sam was a pretty good shot, but it wasn’t even close. Being competitive, he was initially determined to beat her, then grew tense as she consistently shot exactly what she was aiming at, regardless of distance or complicating factors they threw in. Sam did pretty well when they did a “turn and fire”, because he was always having to aim on the move.  But regardless of what they named as the target – center mass, any quadrant, any point level – that’s where Anita sent a bullet.  After a while, Sam got over being competitive and just settled into being very, very impressed.

Which, in turn, resulted in Sam becoming very, very turned on.  He was immensely grateful that Friday was willing to lock the doors and turn off monitoring when he asked.  It really would have been awkward to have someone come in while he was behind Anita in her shooting booth, thrusting into her while occasionally glancing up at the target she’d last used.

 *****

Bruce was a little amused by Catherine’s reaction to Vision.  She was absolutely fascinated by him.  From the time he’d entered Bruce’s lab, she had been asking him an endless list of increasingly detailed and – in Bruce’s mind - intrusive questions.  Vision, however, didn’t seem to object.  In fact, Bruce thought, he seemed to be as intrigued by himself as Catherine was.  

Beyond his amusement, though, Catherine’s intense curiosity enchanted Bruce.  The enthusiastic glow in her startling green eyes, the heightened color in her cheeks, had Bruce as enthralled with Catherine as she was with Vision.  More than that, her questions were brilliant, and displayed her ability to follow Vision’s explanations of some pretty damned esoteric concepts, and extrapolate from them.  Catherine’s genius had always excited Bruce.  For at least an hour, while he tried to pretend he wasn’t hanging on every word of their conversation, Tony was the only one getting any work done.  

“Yeah, OK, show and tell is over,” Tony finally announced, when he noticed.  “Let’s get some damn science-ing done here, all right?  Vision, what we need from you is an analysis of what the missing link could be between these machines and the phenomena.  How’s the energy being directed?”

Vision nodded and stepped to a worktable where he pulled up his own display and began to work through materials at a pace too fast for any of the humans to even follow the screens as he scrolled through them. Bruce quickly stopped trying; it was giving him motion sickness.  

Instead, he watched Catherine.  Her demeanor since they’d reached the lab this morning had been entirely professional, entirely collegial.  Even at lunch, which they should probably have eaten in the lab for all the attention they paid to anyone else at the table, she had her head together with him and Tony discussing their near-complete assessment of the machines, the energy, and the phenomena.  Her manner toward Bruce was identical to the way she spoke to Tony.  Since breakfast, there’d been no hint in her behavior that she and Bruce had spent the large majority of the previous night fucking each other senseless.  

He realized he was half-hard and didn’t need the deep ache in his balls to tell him he’d been that way for most of the day. No surprise there; the last woman he’d been with had been Catherine.  He couldn’t blame the poor, starved little guy for wanting more of the first real sex he’d had in over two years.  And what sex it had been.  He really needed to stop replaying and replaying moments from the night before in his head; it was not helping his current condition.  He could still taste her.  Her cries of love as she came still echoed in his head.  

If it had just been sex, if he was following his own rules, he would probably have found an excuse to pull her away from the lab long enough to pin her against a wall somewhere, or maybe lay her across a desk. Yeah, he really needed to stop thinking about that.  The thing was, he wasn’t following his own rules.  He replayed her voice telling him she loved him much more often than he replayed her shouting in ecstasy, or growling filthy instructions and praise in his ear. He felt, over and over again, the warm thrill that had filled his chest as he reached for her and she melted into him, murmuring his name in her sleep.  

Two hours later, when evening was falling and it was almost time to the assembled team for dinner, Bruce noticed Catherine hanging back as Tony and Vision left his lab, heads together talking about something even Bruce couldn’t follow.  He was shocked to see her sitting on her tall stool, looking at him as though he was made of the Belgian chocolate she couldn’t get enough of.  Irresistibly drawn to her as if by some compulsion she was consciously exerting on him, he began to move slowly, tentatively, toward her, stepping faster as he got closer and saw the need in her eyes.  

She slid her hands up his upper arms as he embraced her, spreading her thighs and pulling him in so their bodies were pressed together.  A surge of something powerful hit Bruce when he felt her hook her feet around his calves, like she used to do when they’d worked together at Oxford.  

It was weeks later that Bruce understood this was the moment he lost the battle.  All he knew at the time was that he needed Catherine’s mouth under his, her arms and legs holding him, like he needed air.  More, because he paid no attention to trying to breathe; all he cared about was the way her lips felt on his and the sweet, coffee-tinged taste of her mouth.  He didn’t even know he was rubbing his cock against her through their clothes, because he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back, and they were both mumbling I love you’s into each other’s mouths, and it was so good and so necessary and so stupendously, irresistibly right that he refused to consider ever leaving this moment, even to come. Which, as it turned out, he didn’t.

She came first, surprising the hell out of him in his blissed-out, love-drunk state.  But when she did, he was stunned to realize that he was right there with her. So he simply kept on thrusting against her, kisses so wide-open and invasive there was saliva coating his chin, until he, too, climaxed with a hissed rush of barely-comprehensible endearments.  

Having taken the edge off with that first orgasm, they were able to take a bit of care with one another’s clothing once he led her by the hand to the oversized couch to one side of the lab.  Bruce thought, in an indecent corner of his mind, of the other times he’d had sex on this couch – alone and driven by pent-up need – and felt a tremor go through him when he considered that he would be able to look back at this moment at such times in the future, and maybe feel just a bit less lonely.  

Once he had Catherine completely nude, he pulled her down on his lap and wrapped her in his arms.  

“I’ve been hard for you all day.  You have no idea…”

“Like hell I don’t – I was getting ready to knock you down and bonk you on the floor.”

Bruce laughed breathily as he lifted Catherine by her hips and she reached for his cock, positioning them so that he slid easily into her, hot and slick.  They cried out together with the long-delayed feeling they’d both been craving all day. Bruce had just enough mental capacity left to remember to call out to Friday, asking her to lock the door and stop monitoring his lab.  

They were gloriously entwined, Catherine lying on the couch with Bruce above her, both sweaty and oversensitive, but still going, when Friday politely interrupted.

“Excuse me, doctors, but I’ve been asked to inform you that you are late for the team dinner.”

Bruce and Catherine both groaned in protest.  

“The boss says to tell you that, quote, he will turn on the monitors and project whatever they see in your lab onto the dining room wall in five minutes, and that you should act accordingly.”

“Right wanker, isn’t he?”  Catherine muttered.  

“When Pepper’s out of town?”  Bruce answered.  “Always.”

[really-sleep-deprived-nerd]

Sanders Sides Percy Jackson AU!

SO! @moon-scribs and I have been working on this one for a while and we hope you like it!

BASICS:

Logan is a child of Athena 

Roman is a child of Apollo (The very extra son of a very extra god)

Remy is a child of Hypnos (Hypnos is the god of sleep)

Virge is a child of Aphrodite and Patton is a child of Hades (Bare with us for a second, we´ll tell WHY we did this below the cut)

Emile is a child of Epiope (The goddess of the soothing of pain)

Deceit Damian is a child of Hermes (Hermes is, among other things, the god of deception)

Thomas is a child of Iris (Y´know, the goddess of the Rainbow)

More about this under the cut! (Warning: Its ridiculously LONG)

Child-of-Aphrodite! Virgil

When deciding upon which god he should be the child of, we mainly thought about how he was before pre-acepting anxiety, how he felt like “The odd-one out”, how he felt like he “didnt belong here”. See where we are going with this?.

Virgil is supposed to be the child of the goddess of beauty, but he honestly cant see it. He is way too pale. Way too lanky. His hair is too messy. He has eyebags that are bigger than his fist. He isnt “pretty”.

His siblings arent helping with that either: They are incredible extroverted people, they actually care about their appearance, about trivial things like make up and clothes, they are known to be extremelly social, their fucking cabin its mOTHERFUCKING BARBIE MANSION PINK AND ALL.

He doesnt fit with them, sure, he can get along with most of them just fine, but he still feels wrong.

He has charmspeak, but he doesn't knows how to use/control it and its also heavily influenced by his emotions, so when he's really stressed out it activates, mostly to keep his friends out of danger. (Its basically like his canon anxiety demon voice, it can influence them like that scene where v's like 'GET RID OF THE PHONE NOW' and Thomas just throws it without thinking )

His first days on camp were pretty rough, and he was thinking of running away, that is, until he met a very cheerful son of Hades.

Child-Of-Hades! Patton

Patton “Hellhounds are just misunderstoods puppies!” Medina

Patton “Oh that kid looks sad and lonely and uncomfortable Im going tO BEFRIEND HIM” Medina

All the hellhounds just become big puppies around him, he has a tiny army of Cat-skeletons and dog-skeletons following him everywhere that are always either playing with him or trying to get pets of him. 

Since there is literally just one other kid of hades in the cabin most of the bunks are empty so one of them becomes the Cave(tm) of Patton´s bony friends (Its just a bunch skele-pets under a blanket) 

 Also one of the bunks is reseved for Virge, since sleeping in a pink barbie mansion surrounded by SO MANY PEOPLE made him incredible anxious. And Patton could not let his precious friend and crush suffer! He has already went through enough! 

 One of the funniest things to Virgil its the fact that the Hades cabin looks like where vampires would live and then BOOM SUNSHINE BOY 

Patton´s Brother: ugh it's too early to-is that the sun??? I thought there were no windows here??? 

Virge: No, that's Patton

He is the first one to discover that, despite Virgil not believing it, Virge is actually FUCKING gorgeous. Like, one day he makes Virgil giggle and Patton feels as his heart might burst: Virgil´s hair was messy and fluffy and it kinda covered his eyes, but you could see them sparkle with amusement and he had this tiny and kinda shy smile and all that Patton could think was: “goDS ABOVE IM TOO GAY TO FUNCTION- HELP”

Despite his sushiney attitude, lets not forget that, as a child of Hades, Patton is actually fucking powerful, and will not hesitate to absolutly destroy whatever and whoever tries to hurt his fami-friends and his home

Child-Of-Apollo! Roman

You know how Percy´s sword turns into a pen? Yeah, Roman´s katana turns into a golden and silver hairbrush. 

Was sent to camp since he was really young and trained in hand to hand combat until he became the best. 

Has an enthralling voice and incredible acting skills and he can dance like the muses, but cant shoot straight to save his life (Pun not intended lol) and if he tried to heal a paper cut it would probably get infected .

Loves the camp dearly, but he misses his family a lot so he Iris-calls them every saturday

Child-Of-Athena! Logan

Hands down the best strategist in the whole camp. 

Cant do hand-to-hand combat to save his LIFE, but he is amazing with long distance weapons. Bow and Arrow? Logan will pull a hawkeye shit where he NEVER fails. He is good at making traps, like, he studies what surrounds him and can make a scooby-doo-like trap with branches and shit he found laying there. People do not Fuck with him during capture the flag. 

You know how Athena´s kids are all terrified of spiders, right? Welp. Logan has a Patton-level fear of spiders.

“Pardon my crude language, but I don't fuck with those tiny ass demons”

Child-Of-Hermes! Damian

“You, my child, are amazing, but you have the moral of a chocolate muffin”- Thomas, to him, after spending 15 minutes alone together.

Will 100% fuck shit up, not in a “IM EVIL FEAR ME” way, but more in a “Remember my father is also the god of pranksters do not fuck with me Virgil”

Has definitely not pranked Roman and Virgil and had to unceremoniously hide in a tree top so this two would not murder him in the time it took for Emile and Pat to calm them down

Child-Of-Hypnos! Remy

He is a child of hypnos, and as such, drinks unhealthy amounts of coffee so he can stay awake.

He can make everyone he wishes fall asleep instantly just by touching them and he can make it last as long as he wishes (More than 4 hs per person tires him tho)

He doesnt have an ounce of common sense in his whole body and Emile still doesnt know how he managed to stay alive for this long.

Child-Of-Epione! Emile

He is not gifted with healing like some childs of Apollo, yet he is able to sooth the pain of others. No, not only as a psychologist (He is not one yet, but he wants to be one when he grows older), but also as an overall comforting presence: He is kind, his voice is calm, he is sweet, patient and emphathic. 

One hug from him will not heal all your pain, but will make it hurt less, giving you the strength to keep fighting it for a while.

Really, REALLY not good at fighting.

Cried for a whole day when he learned that the camp has no tv so he couldnt watch any cartoons while he stayed there

He was very lonely growing up as before getting to camp, so he used to watch A LOT of cartoons to keep himself occupied, to avoid feeling alone.

The human mind and emotions never ceases to amaze him.

Child-Of-Iris! Thomas

Thomas started going to camp at a very young age, so he kinda knows everyone. 

Despite that fact, he got claimed on the summer after his 15th birthday. 

He was walking across the camp towards the Big House to say hi to Chiron when a full on rainbow surrounded him and Iris´s logo started glowing on top of his head. He looked at the rainbow, then he looked down at his “could be gayer” t-shirt and burst out laughing.

He spends only summers on camp, and since he is a bit older than most of the campers, he became a sort of counsellor to new campers whenever he is in camp.

He helps the new ones with training, teaches them how to get around the camp, teaches them how to read in greek and greek history (To them its history, no mythology) if they dont know anything about it. 

He is super supportive of every new camper! Like, if they are training and one of the newbies fucks up (Drops his weapon, falls, trips, whatever) he will instantly start going “Its okay!! No one can do this right in their first try!! It took me like a year just to stop sucking at it!! You are trying your best and thats whats important!!”

He gave one look at Virgil´s angsty demeanor, Damian´s snarky attitude, Roman´s fake confidence, Patton´s pattoness, Logan´s insighful and wise opinios, Remy´s complete lack of self preservation and Emile´s internal screaming as he tries to keep the rest of his friends fucking mentally stable and immediatly decided “Im going to adopt them”

While Thomas is an excelent “counsellor” and loves his friends, sometimes he will be watching the other 7 human disasters run around and get into shenanigans and just be like: Those kids are already so fucking weird this might as well happen 

Asked to be tagged: @fandoms-till-the-end-of-the-line @thatgaydemigodnerd

[catgluue]

Chapter Five: Trapped

I’m back, babies!! And IT IS STILL ROYAI WEEK IN MY HEART. Basically this took forever because I’m writing this by the seat of my pants and I tried to make it work with the prompts in the order given (if we ignore the fact that I am loosely referencing the prompts at best) but you know what I give up, this is happening, it’s fine. 

Anyway big BIG thank you to everyone who reads and/or reviews, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. 

Read on A03

Chapter Five: Trapped

Come nightfall she tries to sleep on the couch, which seems the most promising spot given her limited success two nights ago. After tossing and turning - when did the clock become so unbearably loud? - she finds herself walking up the stairs seemingly aimlessly, until she’s back in the room that used to be Roy’s. She takes a moment to stand in the window, looking out at the moon lighting the tops of the trees and the lawn and the path she used to walk long ago, before she chose another path entirely. Settling down on top of the bed she imagines it still smells faintly of him and drifts off more quickly than she would have thought possible.

When she awakens suddenly the moonlight has shifted, and there are noises in the hall.

Silently she rolls off the bed, hitting the wood floor noiselessly, grateful for the old carpet that still sits under the bed that muffles the faint thud of her stocking feet hitting the floor. Someone is creeping in the hall. Someone is not as stealthy as they think. Two someones, she amends, pulling her sidearm from the holster at her back and holding her breath to catch the faint scuffling as they move along. When they enter the room in a burst of noise and light (what kind of burglars bring a flashlight , she thinks in annoyance) she’s ready, neatly grazing the shin of one and then the thigh of the other. They’re bleeding profusely with superficial wounds when she gets to her feet, having taken the cord off the curtain, and sweeps the feet out from the slower one with her leg. The other thunders down the stairs and she pays him no mind, flipping this one onto his back, her knee digging into his spine as she wraps the cord tightly around his wrists.

“Who sent you?” she asks, guessing that this wiry man in threadbare clothing isn’t here to rob her of his own volition. The house is in disrepair and everyone knows her family was all but destitute by the end.

“Bitch!” he spits, and she sighs, digging her knee in further as he lets out an involuntary yell against the carpet; he can answer or he can crack a rib.

“What is your name?” she tries instead and this time he gasps out an answer.

“Johnson,” he gasps. “Frank Johnson, and that’s all you’ll get, I hope it’s satisfactory.”

She gets to her feet, dragging him up with her, just as Fuery comes thundering into the room, gun drawn.

“Captain, are you hurt?”

“No,” she replies. “Did you get the other one?”

They did, as it happens, and he’s tied to a chair in the kitchen by the time they get downstairs. Havoc has his weapon drawn but looks unconcerned; the colonel has a single white glove on and an impassive expression that would be unreadable to everyone but her, and Breda is eating an apple noisily while regarding the robber with a stony expression. Their second captive’s face is nearly the same color as the glove that he eyes warily while he sings like a canary.

“-said there might be one woman in the house, didn’t say anything about the damn Hero of Ishval being here! This is well above my pay grade if you ask me-”

“Well did he mention that the woman was the country’s most renowned sharpshooter?” Roy is saying dryly. “You’d think that would be pertinent information. Hawkeye, are you all right?”

“Fine, sir,” she says, depositing Frank in a chair next to the other man. No one bothers tying him up.

“Good. Well, now you are both going to tell me what you were intending to do with my Captain,” he directs at the two men, expression dark as he fingers the end of his ignition glove with his other hand. “And I’d choose your words carefully.”

“We weren’t to hurt her,” Frank volunteers, “Just ah, apprehend her.”

“Idiots,” Breda mutters, rolling his eyes, and Riza appreciates this. She gives a quick half-smile as his eyes flicker to hers and he grins widely, taking another bite of the apple.

“Sir,” she interjects, but Roy is already standing from his perch on a barstool tugging on his glove reflexively.

“And why , exactly, were you sent to apprehend her?”

“Look,” the other man says, speaking up at last, “We weren’t told the specifics - clearly, or else we’d have been more prepared. I mean we haven’t even talked to this guy in the flesh-”

“ General ,” she cuts in, loudly enough that he turns to look at her. “What if they did apprehend me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to find out-”

“No, I mean suppose I go with them, and see what this criminal mastermind wants,” she suggests. Roy’s brow furrows.

“Absolutely not .”

“I dunno boss, that’s a pretty solid plan. She goes in as bait, with us as backup. We find out what exactly this person’s endgame is, and then we take them down,” Breda reasons, apple discarded as he carefully and conspicuously cleans his own gun, an action that Riza is certain isn’t altogether necessary but helps to set the mood.

“I’ll go ahead, find a vantage point, it’ll be safe as can be,” Havoc volunteers. Fuery is looking curiously at Roy, gun still in the arm that hands slack at his side.

“Sorry if this sounds insubordinate, sir, but since when do you not think the Captain can take care of herself?” he asks in a quiet voice. Riza cocks an eyebrow at the General and Havoc’s face lights up.

“An excellent point,” he says. “Why wouldn’t you trust your own bodyguard in this very important capacity?” They have him there. Roy is regarding his Lieutenant with a mixture of confusion and annoyance when Riza turns to Frank, hands on her hips.

“You’re going to take me to whoever this person is.”

“That’s it, you’re just gonna untie us and come willingly?” The other man asks incredulously. “You’ll be making our job real easy, thanks for that.”

“They really have no idea who they were trying to kidnap,” Breda mutters. “You’ll want to watch your mouth when you’re talking to a lady with five guns on her person.”

-x-

“Hmm,”

Riza lifted her head from where it had been laying on her arms and turned slightly at the sound of Roy’s hum behind her. She was sprawled out on one of the couches in the parlor, him seated in a chair next to her with pen and paper, mapping out the intricate tattoo that fanned out across her back. It was late afternoon on the second day of this study and she’d been dozing as he worked in silence.

“What?” she asked when he didn’t elaborate. “Find something interesting?”

“It’s all interesting,” he said earnestly. “I’ve been trying to sketch it first and worry about figuring it all out later but sometimes pieces just catch my eye.” She knew perfectly well that he hadn’t been diligently sketching for two days - for one thing it had been two days, and while it was a complicated array it wasn’tthat complicated. For another, the sound of his pencil scratching against the paper was often punctuated by long moments of silence while he contemplated whatever he had written down. She, in no hurry to end the process, hadn’t said anything, content to bask in the dreamy autumn sunlight and his presence.

“I don’t know anything about it,” she confessed. “I’m just the human sketchbook.” She didn’t mean for it to sound bitter but to her ears it was petulant, and she bit her lip in annoyance. She started as his fingertips brushed along her shoulder blade, down towards her spine. He had barely touched her during the whole process, excepting the few times he reached out without thinking. Riza didn’t know how to tell him she didn’t mind.

In a way the past few days felt like she was fulfilling the destiny her father set for her; a path she was bound to take regardless of what her own wishes might be. Her father told her that she was to guard his secrets and disclose them to a worthy alchemist who conspicuously remained nameless. In the years to follow she wondered, many times, if he saw her as some being of judgement, placed in his life to choose a worthy successor, instead of a very human daughter who only craved love and support. She saw herself as a train on a track, chugging steadily towards the only possible destination. Riza had been frustrated at times by her apparent lack of options but if the September sun, the worn, comfortable furniture, and the dark-haired man she trusted above all others constructed a prison, it was one she would have gladly spent the rest of her days in.

But the tattoo was only so big. She knew her days in the sun were numbered.

“It’s - I’m not done yet by any means, but considering this is flame alchemy we’re talking about I had wondered why there’s so much to do with air. It makes sense of course: fires are controlled by oxygen flow, among other things. But this part seems to indicate that a spark or some existing source of fire is needed.”

Riza half rolled over, holding the pillow to her chest as she turned to look at him. He snatched his hand back as she did so, turning pink as if just now realizing he was touching her.

“So it’s not about creating fire at all - it’s about controlling and directing it.”

“Exactly. I guess I’m just surprised, considering the secrecy surrounding it. There really is no such thing as creating fire from alchemy-”

“A spark has to already exist,” she finished. His eyes traveled up her body from the array to settle on hers, before quickly flicking back down to his notebook.

“It’s getting late, we can stop for the day if you want to,” he said. She turned her head and nestled her cheek back into the pillow, letting her eyes close as she breathed in deeply.

“No,” she told him. “I’m fine where I am.”

-x-

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me what this is all about?” She asks as they lead her away from the old house and down the sloping lawn towards the forest. The moonlight illuminates the grounds a little, and she’s always had exceptional night vision, but she doesn't see anything ahead but trees. In fact unless things have drastically changed she knows for a fact that there’s nothing ahead but trees; not for five, six miles when they’d run into the O’Connell’s lands. But she doubts they’re taking her there, somehow. Wherever they’re headed is somewhere in the woods - her woods.

“Course not,” Aldman - she was able to get a name, at least - tells her almost cheerfully. “Not my business, anyhow. You’ll find out soon enough.”

“What’s in it for you?”  

“Money, of course,” he responds.

“Yeah, all Rainer wants is the alchemy, he said. We get anything of material value,” Frank supplies, and Aldman nudges him hard in the ribs as Riza lets out a quiet laugh.

“Anything of value? Sorry to disappoint you but there’s nothing there, alchemy or otherwise,” she lies. Well not quite a lie - everything she’s found so far of her mother’s jewelry is gone from the house already, given to the General this afternoon for safekeeping.

“What do you mean by that?” Frank asks sharply.

“What, do you think I would have left gold bricks in the house for fifteen years while I survived off an army salary? Unless you collect antique armoires, I hope this Rainer person has something else to pay you off with.” More than threats of shooting or incineration, this seems to give them pause. It’s one thing to be darkly informed that harming a hair on Riza’s head will result in immediate immolation but quite another to realize one might not get paid for a job one has mostly completed.

“No more talking,” Aldman growls, jabbing her with the one pistol they have between them, and she rolls her eyes in the darkness. “We’re nearly there anyhow.”

Riza peers through the trees, searching for any kind of a structure, or even a person , but still sees nothing, nothing but trees growing thickly around them. Aldman and Frank hang back and she balks, but starts walking again at a nudge from the pistol, though she walks slowly, scanning the forest carefully. She used to play in these woods as a child, but the same trees now seem unfamiliar, and despite her assurance that these criminals are blundering fools, faintly menacing in the near-darkness.

She’s almost past the tree when she sees the transmutation circle, carved into the bark just below eye level.

Riza digs her heels in and whirls around, reaching for her own gun concealed at the small of her back and as she does so she sees the same mark on another tree, feet away; she’d been about to walk between them.

“What is this?” she demands, pointing her gun at Aldman, who is pointing his right back at her.

“Keep walking,” he orders her and she decides all bets are off. Before she can yell for backup Frank moves faster than she thought he had the ability to, ducking under her gun and slamming into her midsection. She falls backwards, and has the wind knocked out of her as she hits the floor. She rolls, gasping, and jumps to her feet, pulling her gun up-

Only to find she’s aiming at her own back.

She sees herself suspended between the trees, arms stretched out to either side, mid-fall, for all the world like an insect caught in a spiderweb. The two men on the other side look about as surprised as she feels, Frank stepping forward to look at her face while Aldman grins, gun lowering. She holds up her hands and finds they have an odd, transparent quality to them, and sinks to her knees. The forest floor makes no noise as she settles onto it.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Frank is saying. “Rainer wrote ‘just get her through the trees’ and he’d take care of the rest but I wasn’t expecting this. Now what, we leave her? How do we get our cut with all those soldiers swarming the mansion anyway?” Aldman doesn’t answer, but lifts his pistol and puts a bullet between Frank’s eyes. The other man drops like a stone, and Aldman walks through the pair of trees purposefully, stepping out of his own body as though it was as comfortable as slipping off a pair of shoes.

Riza rises slowly to her feet, doing her best to ignore the yelling as Havoc and Fuery descend on the scene, guns drawn - she supposes that whatever she is now, they won’t be able to help her; their yelling sounds muffled, as though she’s hearing it from beneath several inches of water.

“What did you do to me?” she asks him. The pistol is a comforting weight in her hand, though she knows it won’t do much for her now, a shade of its former self. Just like her. Fuery takes off running back towards the house while Havoc inches towards her, delicately holding a hand up to her neck, feeling for a pulse. She turns her back on the whole scene, not wanting to see who Fuery would inevitably bring back. She doesn’t want to see the look on Roy’s face when he sees her hanging there.

“You’re not an alchemist,” he shrugs. “It’ll go over your head.”

“Try me,” she challenges. This feels like a test of some kind and from the way he grins, she feels both that she’s somehow passed and that this isn’t a good thing. There is one thing that she knows to be a universal truth about all alchemists; each and every one of them is at one point convinced that he alone understands the idiosyncrasies of the universe. She suspects that this is that moment for Aldman - Rainer, whoever - but she knows that like all the others, his moment of hubris shall be fleeting. Her grip tightens.

“Oh it’s impressive,” he tells her. “You see there’s a little trick I know - one that the military wasn’t much interested in when they learned the restrictions-”

“Let me guess, the restrictions involve you needing to seperate my consciousness from my body,” she says flatly. He doesn’t flinch away from her furious glare - with her being incorporeal, there isn’t a reason to.

“And I thought you were just the muscle and Mustang was the brains of the operation,” he purrs. “But unfortunately yes.”

“Well it can’t be permanent,” she says. “Or else you’d be trapped here with me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he tells her, fishing out a pendant necklace from a string around his neck. The pendant is an oval of beaten copper, and she can see a sigil etched into the metal. “I’ve taken precautions. I don’t think that I can say the same for you; I just needed to isolate your subconscious so we could really delve into things.”

“So I’m asleep,” she surmises, looking back at her prone body suspended between the trees. Three figures are running full-tilt from the house and she turns away again, taking an unsteady, shallow breath before she continues. “Should be easy enough to wake me.”

“Closer to a coma, so think again,” he corrects her.

“CAPTAIN!! ” The anguished cry breaks through whatever barrier hangs between her and her team as the men skid to a halt before the tree. Breda ducks to check Frank and Havoc waves him away, as Fuery prods at Aldman - Rainer - and her General walks up to where she hangs limply, lifting a hand and hesitantly holding it to her face, his confident mask briefly dropping to show a man utterly lost. Riza makes herself turn away.

“You haven’t explained what you want from me that you couldn’t get from me while awake,” she says, and he fishes around in his pocket, finally pulling out what seems to be a photograph.

“Think of it as being a little like hypnosis,” he explains. “But more hands on, a touch more visceral. We’re going to sift through your memories together.” She doesn’t like the sound of this one bit - sifting through her memories isn’t something she even cares to do alone. But she can’t see that she has much choice at all in the matter -  she’s been forced from her body and stands as a shade in front of him, the General calling to her behind her back, and there is nowhere to go.

[cool-beans-scully]

Sick (Natasha Romanoff x reader )

Summary: You’re sick and refuse to rest, Natasha is prepared.

Warnings: A few curse words, reader is kinda high off pain meds

A/N: Idek where I was going with this just that it was a literal fever dream I had when I was sick, probably because I was rewatching Parks and Rec and Marvel movies. Also there’s not really that much romance it’s more pining because I’m a sucker for pining.

Word Count: 1152

The alarm clock beeped angrily at you, wincing you rolled over hitting the snooze button and promptly falling back asleep. Five minutes later—though you swore it had only been seconds—the alarm blared again. This time you grabbed the alarm clock and hastily threw it across the room shattering it easily, the incessant beeping finally stopping. You’d buy another one soon, but for now you simply pulled the blankets tighter around you and fell back asleep.

Meanwhile in the training room Natasha was just about to start her warm ups when JARVIS spoke. “Ms. Romanoff, I feel the need to inform you Ms. Y/L/N’s body temperature is currently at 102 and slowly yet steadily rising. I suspect she has a cold, what would you have me do?”

Natasha picked up her water bottle, “Nothing, thank you JARVIS. Where is she?”

Reluctantly you got up and dressed, despite the pounding in your head, your sore throat, and the fact that you were freezing. A knock on the door brought your attention away from your miserable state and you finished pulling on the sweatshirt. “Come in!” Your voice didn’t comply instead coming out as a whimper, that didn’t resemble your own.

Luckily whoever was knocking understood and let themselves in, you turned to see Natasha entering. She took in your red nose, tired eyes, and messy hair. “You look like crap.”

“I feel like crap.” You admitted bluntly, nodding along.

A shiver ran down your spine and you hugged your arms around yourself. “Is that my sweatshirt?”

“Nooo?” She narrowed her eyes jokingly, you relented. “Maybe, but it’s actually technically Steve’s which you stole and I stole from you. So I don’t know if you can lay any claim to it.” All the talking made your throat hurt and you erupted into a coughing fit.

“I told you you were going to get sick if you stayed in the snow all day.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, when you caught your breath. “And I told you, I didn’t care if I got sick I hadn’t seen snow in forever and I was going to play in it. Besides I’m not sick.”

She moved closer placing the back of her hand on your forehead, she frowned instantly. “You’re burning up. Sit down.” Complying, you took a seat on the edge of the bed, Natasha asking JARVIS to take your temperature.

“Approximately 104.1, Ms. Romanoff.”

“104.1? Y/N you're dehydrated, I'm taking you to the med-bay.”

You stared at her glassy and wide eyed, before answering raspily. “If I was sick could I do this.” Natasha watched as you sat there not moving, barely blinking.

“What are you doing?”

“Cartwheels...Am I not doing them?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

She dragged you to the med-bay easily, you stayed there for the next two hours, before Natasha was satisfied that you were better—or at least weren’t delirious with fever. The two of you walked back to your room, they had given you morphine and the effects were already taking its toll on you.

The red head watched as you skipped about, singing. “Jingle bells, Hawkeye smells. Rudolph laid an egg, something something…” You abruptly stopped, before turning to Natasha. “What time is it?”

“Around noon. Why?

“I have a meeting in an hour, I have to get ready!” Suddenly you bounded towards your room, Natasha taking off after you.

“Y/N! You are not going to that meeting!”

She caught up as you were changing, she stopped in the doorway crossing her arms. “What are you doing?”

“That medicine really helped. I feel a thousand percent better. Good as new.” You pick up a pair of pants, wrapping it around your neck like a scarf. “Does this scarf look okay? I don't wanna look stuffy but I also don't wanna look too schlubby.”

“Get back in that bed.”

“So no to the scarf?”

“Get back in the bed.”

“No, I'm going to that meeting!”

“Either you get back in the bed or I will strap you down, I've done it before, don't test me!”

Reluctantly you climb back into bed, she smiled triumphantly. “I will tell Steve and he’ll handle the meeting. Meanwhile you are going to sleep, I’ll come back with some soup and we can watch Christmas movies, alright?”

You nodded, stifling a yawn. “Alright, thanks Nat.”

She brushed hair out of your face and you smiled sleepily up at her, “Anything for you.” She muttered to quell the surge of affection, knowing you were too out of it to remember later.

As soon as she left you jumped out of bed and finished getting dressed, deciding against the scarf. The meeting was being held three floors below, somehow you managed to make it there without running into Natasha.

Walking into the boardroom, Steve was already looking through a few documents. “Steve Rogers! Hello!” He looked up confused, you smiled. “Good to see you!”

“You too…”

Sticking out your hand, Steve stares at it baffled considering you saw him just earlier this morning, nonetheless he shook your hand. “Wow you're really burning up.”

“Debatable. So ready for the meeting?”

“Y/N, Nat told me that you’re sick, don’t worry I’ve got the meeting handled. You should get some sleep.”

“Yeah no Nat lied, I’m not sick. Oh boy hold on...be careful.”

“What?”

“The floor and the wall just switched.”

“...Okay.”

“Walk very carefully.” Slowly you stepped closer to one of the chairs while swaying, once you sat down however you relaxed.

“What the hell, Y/N?” The voice dangerously close to threatening, you turned to see Natasha glaring at you standing in the doorway. “You’re going to bed.” She stated and scooped you up easily, it’s times like these that you remembered that nearly all of your friends could bench-press you if they wanted. “I told you to stay in bed and that Steve has the meeting handled, but no.” She scolded, carrying you back to your room. You were only half-listening as you rested your head in the crook of her neck, already dozing off.

Laying you down, she pressed the back of her hand on onto your forehead. “I think your fever broke.” You hummed in response, she took a seat on the edge of the bed and motioned to the bowl on your nightstand. “Now eat your damn soup.”

Between spoonfuls you asked, “What movie do you wanna watch?”

“It’s A Wonderful Life, Elf, The Nightmare Before Christmas...whatever you want.”

“Nope you have to choose.”

“Fine.”

She started The Nightmare before Christmas and made herself comfortable on the other side of the bed, as you finished your soup.

Halfway through the movie you found yourself laying horizontally in bed with your head resting in Natasha’s lap as she absentmindedly combed through your hair, neither of you were entirely sure how you ended up like that but you definitely weren’t complaining.