#and sometimes I remember this is a story the doctor tells an assassin and I almost break out in laughter

[terranceholdsapencil]

Im listening to the Master Audio Adventure and nahhh this is insane I just finished part 2 😭

Joseph Lidster you are insane for writing this

[teecupangel]

I keep seeing this floating around and I keep thinking of Desmond and his ancestors getting drug into the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

First off Captain Nemo showing Connor how to pilot his huge ass submarine. Aaaaand also Ezio and Tom Sawyer both endlessly flirting with Mina Harker.

I dunno. Altaïr might chill with Dr. Jekyll.

I think Desmond would be the first to catch on to Dorian Gray, or maybe Altaïr.

Either way Moriarty gives off Templar vibes and I don't think that is something that must be explained.

(also bonus Frye Twins content? They seem very likely to be involved there)

I’m going to be honest, I barely remember the movie and it’s been so long since I read the comics so I am working with what I can remember XD

Since you added Dorian Gray, I will assume that this is more in line with the movie than the comics.

For this one, Desmond and his three main ancestors get transported into the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and they assumed they had just been transported into another time until they start realizing that, given the year, there should be information about the British Brotherhood but there’s nothing.

There wasn’t even any information about the Kenway bloodline and a quick stop to Italy would show that there are no evidence of the Auditore family and the Assassins tombs never existed at all.

It is during this time that they are approached by a man who only goes by the name ‘Bond’ who recruits them into becoming part of a league of ‘extraordinary’ people.

Bond says that his ‘employers’ have been keeping an eye on them and found them a good fit. (Mainly because of their capabilities as Assassins, especially the Eagle Vision).

They’re introduced to Quartermain who is noted to be the ‘leader’ of the group and Tom Sawyer, his… protege? Assistant? They weren’t clear. All they said was that Tom Sawyer is part of the group.

In this one, Ratonhnhaké:ton would definitely try to learn how to pilot Captain Nemo’s submarine and Captain Nemo would be more than happy to try and teach him, enjoying the young man’s enthusiasm.

Ezio would be more on the side of just casually flirting with Mina Harker as a way to get more information about her and this league of theirs. She knows this and response in kind because she tells him that they (Ezio and the others) ‘smell’ different. (We can also push for the idea that Jonathan Harker’s death still haunts Mina and Ezio can related to that, being reminded by Cristina’s own death).

Desmond though would be more inclined to talk to Dr Jekyll because of the whole two personalities in one body situation. Dr Jekyll would feel a kindred spirit with Desmond but also tell him that he will never understand the horror that the doctor is going through because Desmond accepted his Bleeding Effect and even embraced it while Dr Jekyll is stuck in hell, trying to wrestle control from his ‘other self’. Whether this turns into a bromance or a romance is up to you.

Altaïr would be the one to catch on to Dorian Gray, mostly because the four of them decided to divide and conquer to get more information about this world and talking to Quartermain is both informative but also a bit too bland so Altaïr sometimes talk to Dorian Gray. He doesn’t know his story (no one does because Desmond didn’t really read the classics but he did watch Invisible Man XD)

Speaking of which… they can all see the Invisible Man using their Eagle Vision. That’s why none of them suspect the Invisible Man when things started heating up.

‘M’ definitely gave Templar vibes and the twist can be that he is part of the Templar Order back in their own world, having changed places with the original Moriarty when he fell from the top of Reichenbach Falls. He actually transmigrated to the dead body of Moriarty and took his place.

And he held the other Assassins (Edward, Arno, Jacob and Evie) in some kind of stasis in his secret headquarters because the ‘smell’ Mina talked about it actually the otherwordly energy their bodies give off. They’re the perfect batteries to use for WMD that Moriarty had been developing in secret and it’s up to the League and the Brotherhood to stop him.

This would probably end with the Assassins leaving the Brotherhood to form… well… the Brotherhood while helping the imprisoned Assassins get back on their feet. Also, they haven’t found out how they were getting ‘sent’ in this world and that would be their priority, ending this more on the side of the League and the Brotherhood having a tentative alliance.

[gingerteaonthetardis]

“Hey, have you seen the…? Oh.”  (tentoo x rose) for the lighthearted prompts? 💕

love love love your writing and I hope you’re having a great day!

hey, dear, thanks for your patience on this one! i had my housewarming this past weekend and hosted some out-of-town visitors, so i had to put down my pen for a little bit. but i'm back with a spot of domestic fluff! hope you don't mind that this story is kind of baby-centric. i couldn't really have a pete's world fic without at least the *implication* of mia...

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

They'd agreed the place in London was only temporary—a stepping-stone on the path to a more permanent home, or possibly on the path to the TARDIS 2.0. Actually, she wasn't super clear what path they were specifically on, but it didn't matter, did it?

Because they were on it together. And together, they tended to find their way.

Anyway, they had agreed.

Their landlord was a bit laissez-faire about things, but that didn't mean they ought to put in their own time and energy fixing the flat up only to have to move out once their lease ended. And Rose was fine with that. She felt no need to repaint or restain and make her mark. Interior design was hardly her passion, and the Doctor seemed to feel more or less the same.

So, when the accident happened—"Good accident!" the Doctor had cried—and it became clear they needed more space, she'd not been terribly invested in redoing the office from the ground-up. They just needed to make it habitable, and most of all, safe.

"It's only temporary," she'd reminded him. "I'll keep checking the papers and asking 'round." With a smile, she'd added, "We'll be somewhere with more space in no time, promise."

No time, however, had turned into four months. And then six.

And the dramatic change that was coming seemed to eat up every spare moment of their lives. There weren't enough hours in the day for all the doctor's appointments and Torchwood check-ups and birthing classes, on top of full work days and date nights and Sunday suppers with her mum and Pete and Tony. And Rose was tired; frequently, comprehensively tired—"Good tired," she would tell the Doctor, pushing their house search further and further to the wayside.

All the while, the Doctor chipped away at what had ultimately become his office-cum-workshop-cum-private laboratory. Boxes were packed and boxes were shuffled away into nebulous storage, and Rose rarely had the energy to do more than marvel that he was capable of being so organised. He'd got a label-maker.

That wasn't to say she wasn't excited.

Routine outings with her mum resulted in more than just the bare necessities of parenthood. Packages arrived seemingly every day, almost gloatingly refilling the spaces the Doctor had just opened up. She unwrapped them all with a curious blend of wonder and excitement and trepidation.

Sometimes, she barely remembered her own purchases and the two-pack of little dino-printed dungarees or the double electric breast pump were like a surprise present from her past self, jolting her back to the reality where this was happening. This was her life.

This was her life, and it wasn't waiting for her, no matter how much she tried to put certain decisions on hold or tried to tell herself things were temporary.

So, it was a Tuesday. It was after four, but not yet late enough for the autumn sun to have fully sunk behind the London skyline. And her head was still back at Torchwood, in the Archive, where she'd been reassigned from the field to review old disaster footage, looking for signs of alien intervention. She'd moved through the tube stations by reflex, not fully present and yet not terribly far away: her thoughts no longer tended to veer toward another universe, but rather, towards the more tangible and immediate past of this world. She wanted—she thought, as she dug through her handbag for her keyring—to ask the Doctor something specific, actually. About the Territories, and an assassination at which he'd been present in the other universe. She wanted to compare notes.

Retrieving her keys, Rose let herself into the flat. There was no sign of the Doctor in the living room, and when she poked her head into the kitchen, he wasn't there either. She removed her earbuds, cocking her head and listening. Down the hall, she thought she heard shuffling.

"Doctor?" she called.

Instead of an answer, she got a kind of thumping sound, and a muffled grunt. He must have been packing more boxes.

"Doctor, I'm home," she said, raising her voice as she turned down the hallway. She didn't bother with taking off her shoes; she was getting big enough around the middle now that she tended to ask his help with them anyway. But she shrugged off her pink peacoat—a maternity gift from her mum—and folded it over her arm. "First day on desk duty. You were right about the Archive job, though, it's not boring at all. Actually, hey, have you seen the—? Oh."

She jerked to a halt in front of the open office door, suddenly realising…

It wasn't an office at all.

At least, not anymore.

All signs of the packed boxes were gone. The Doctor's desk—which had been the last big holdout, shoved into the back corner where he could often be found hunched at work at all hours—was nowhere to be found. In its place was white wood draped in thick plastic sheeting. It was a piece Rose vividly remembered picking out, and seeing it even through the warped plastic covering brought a sudden flood of tears to her eyes. It was dimensional, real. A crib. And beside it stood the Doctor, stepping clumsily off the last rung of a ladder.

He wore denim cutoffs she didn't even know he owned, as well as a ratty ringer shirt. His feet were bare. And smeared all over him was paint—so much paint, in various shades. A soft, pinky-red dotted his cheeks, and there was a slash of grassy green up his left forearm. Baby blue clotted his hairline, curling the front strands. Yellow sunlight drippings splattered his chest.

He looked like he'd been involved in some kind of technicolour explosion.

In his hand was a white-soaked paint brush. And on his face was an enormous grin.

"The JFK file?" he finished for her. "Yes, I most certainly have. Who do you think sent it through to your desk?"

But Rose barely heard him. Wide-eyed, she wandered past the threshold and into the room which now boasted three blue walls and a vibrant fourth—the wall with a window, looking out over the back courtyard where the elderly neighbour obsessively tended her autumn crocuses.

It was a rainbow he’d painted, that much was obvious. Sketched out in loose strokes, it was a marvellously vivid and yet somehow soft arc framing the window, through which the setting sun was showing off with all her might.

"I took off early today," the Doctor was saying. "Wanted to get this done before you got home. Obviously, the footage didn't keep you for as long as I'd hoped."

The sky boasted stunning swaths of violet and orange and peach. Puffy white clouds, still damp and glossy, floated in freshly-painted patches against the blue wall, mimicking the cloud banks above the sunset. The outside bleeding inward, or possibly the reverse.

Beside the window was another recognisable piece of furniture heaped in plastic: a white wicker rocking chair. She'd liked the look of it in the store, and had sat comfortably in it for over twenty minutes while her swollen ankles complained, but had ultimately deemed it too much of an expense. And unnecessary, given their comfortable sofa in the living room.

Rose stepped closer, drawn to it as if by magnets.

In an instant, she could see the completed picture. She could see the paint dried, the white curtains fluttering against the open window, and herself in the rocker with her face to the breeze, breathing in clean, green spring air. The neighbour would be puttering around her yellow rose bushes. And in Rose's arms, she'd be cradling their baby—her baby, a real and squirming life she'd brought into the world.

The image was so crisp, so perfectly vivid, that she struggled to blink it away. She resisted it, in fact, and wanted to live in that warm, pleasant moment forever.

"I know what we agreed," the Doctor was saying, his voice gentle. And a little uncertain. "But I just thought—well, we'll only have this once, you know, this first time. And just because this home is temporary doesn't mean it hasn't been important. I mean, it's where we—where…"

She turned from the window and the setting sun, arms already outstretched. Her handbag and coat fell to the floor.

The Doctor met her readily, uncaring that paint was smearing them both. He tucked her against his chest and under his chin, where she buried her nose and hid her red-rimmed eyes. She wanted to tell him it was perfect—it was just like she'd imagined, only she'd never imagined it here, and she hadn't even known she was imagining it, really. She wanted to say that she never would have wanted this particular adventure without him and his daft ideas and his smeary paint and his thoughtfulness.

But her voice was stopped in her throat.

"So… surprise?" the Doctor offered weakly.

She snorted a laugh. Swallowed thickly, trying for the right words.

And she whispered, "Good surprise."

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

more lighthearted prompts...

[winterdaphne2]

I agree with @lololollywrites and have some stuff I want to add!

@loudest-subtext-in-tv explains the difference between the moral philosophy that Sherlock and John share and Mary's actions very well in her M-Theory meta. Sherlock has a very keen and deeply-held sense of justice, and his commitment to justice is what motivates his work as a detective in the first place. (Think about what Mycroft said to John in ASIB. What does Sherlock's decision to become a detective, rather than study science for the pure pursuit of knowledge, tell us about his heart? @asherlockstudy has a great meta on this here.) Sherlock wants to save innocent people from dying or getting hurt, and he cares deeply about bringing people who have done terrible things to justice. But if Sherlock judges someone to have done something unforgivable, he doesn't particularly care if they suffer for it. That's why Sherlock is willing to hurt Jeff Hope the cabbie to get him to reveal Moriarty's name; Hope killed five innocent people, so Sherlock doesn't care about protecting or respecting him. And as @lololollywrites said, Sherlock hates Magnussen because he manipulates innocent people, "because he attacks people who are different and preys on their secrets." (@nyxviola, now @nyxneon, did an awesome meta on why Sherlock hates Magnussen so much here.)

John was an army doctor, so as @loudest-subtext-in-tv points out in her M-Theory meta, Sherlock is drawn to John in part because he probably joined the army for noble reasons and has saving lives as his highest priority, just like Sherlock does. At the end of ASIP, Sherlock specifically points out to Lestrade that John didn't shoot Hope until he was in immediate danger, so John has "strong moral principles." John shot Hope to save Sherlock's life, and Sherlock perceives early on that John's moral code is probably very similar to his own.

Sherlock and John's moral philosophy doesn't always line up with the law and the actions of the British government, and they don't hesitate to work outside the law when they believe that's where justice leads them. This is in keeping with the original Sherlock Holmes and John Watson characters from ACD canon. In the ACD stories, Holmes sometimes decides to let the criminal go if he believes they won't do any more harm and aren't a danger to anyone else, or if he thinks it would be crueler to hand them over to the police. Watson is on board with this.

Even though Sherlock is willing to work outside the law, though, in HLV he doesn't go to Appledore planning to kill Magnussen. Sherlock thought he could get Magnussen for attempted treason and then hand him over to the authorities and have them bring Magnussen to justice. Sherlock only shot Magnussen as a last resort, in an absolutely desperate measure to save John after he realized that killing Magnussen was the only way to prevent John from getting charged with treason and to protect John's future with Mary. Remember how utterly shocked and devastated Sherlock looked when Magnussen said there were no vaults, and Sherlock realized that his original plan had fallen apart!

Mary's actions are very different. As @lololollywrites explained, Mary's decision to shoot Sherlock was a selfish act. She did it to protect herself, not to protect others like John did when he shot Hope and Sherlock did when he shot Magnussen. And we have to pay attention to what Mary said in that very first gif that the original poster used! @loudest-subtext-in-tv highlights this line in her M-Theory post, too! Mary says that Magnussen has stuff on her that would put her in prison for the rest of her life. This implies that Mary killed innocent people in the past. Maybe we could do some mental gymnastics and suppose that Mary was acting like Sherlock and John and only taking out bad people, but then Magnussen later tells us that she was an assassin for hire. So she killed people for money! (Kind of like Jeff Hope??) Not to protect other people like Sherlock and John did.

I also totally agree with @loudest-subtext-in-tv and @lololollywrites that Mary likely worked for Moriarty. Another one of Mary's lines to John in the 221B scene in HLV is important. Mary asks John not to read the memory stick in front of her, "because you won't love me when you've finished, and I don't want to see that happen." I think this heavily implies that Mary was involved in something directly relevant to John and Sherlock during her assassin career, and personally, I think it means she was one of Moriarty's snipers at the pool. (We know she wasn't John's sniper in TRF because we see that guy on screen.)

So yeah, no, Sherlock and John live by a very different moral code from Mary. They care about justice and believe there can be a higher justice than the law, but they generally try to work within the law and have only resorted to killing in desperate situations. They haven't killed for money or personal gain.

Maybe Mary really did want to leave her past as an assassin behind and be Mary Watson. But then she shot Sherlock after he offered to help her. Moreover, @loudest-subtext-in-tv makes some great points in the M-Theory meta about how Mary really doesn't treat John well in HLV after all of this goes down. She never shows remorse for her past or even apologizes to John for lying to him, even though it's clear that she's caused him great pain. I actually really, really liked Mary when TEH and TSOT first aired, and I wanted her to be the strong charismatic female character that the show lacked. But now that I've thought about her character a lot more, I just can't like her. :(

Finally, I have to point out that Sherlock is ultimately the most selfless and caring person on the entire show, and this contrasts him sharply with Mary. Sherlock jumped from the rooftop of Bart's in TRF to protect the three people closest to him in the world, and he did so knowing he was leaving the love of his life behind and without knowing when or if he would see him again. When Sherlock returned to London, he was desperately in love with John, but after John revealed in the train car scene that he wasn't going to leave Mary for Sherlock, Sherlock respected that choice and spent the entirety of S3 doing everything he possibly could to give John the future with Mary that he thought John wanted. Even though it clearly broke his heart to do so. Finally, in HLV, we saw that Sherlock was willing to throw away his whole life and accept a suicide mission to eastern Europe in order to prevent John from going to prison and to give John a safe future with Mary. Sherlock is such a forgiving and selfless person that he was even willing to help Irene Adler after she broke into 221B in ASIB, even after she treated him like shit, and he even forgave her again and saved her from the terrorists in Karachi after she betrayed him and treated him like even worse shit, because Sherlock didn't think she deserved to die for what she'd done.

Mary tells Sherlock at Leinster Gardens that there is nothing in the world that she would not do to keep John. In contrast, Sherlock proves by the end of HLV that he is willing to sacrifice absolutely everything, and to let Mary have John if that's what he believes will keep John safe and give John the future he wants. Ultimately, Sherlock's love for John is a far more selfless kind of love than what Mary demonstrates.

So in the end, Sherlock was a very selfless person, and Mary was not. She killed people for money and shot Sherlock to protect herself and to hide her past from John. There are major differences here, and we shouldn't just wave our hands and say that if we forgive Sherlock and John for killing people, then we should forgive Mary, too. These differences are very important to our understanding of the characters and to our understanding of the narrative of the story more broadly.

Listen carefully to what Mary says: “people like Magnussen should be killed, that’s why there are people like me”.  She’s the type of person who kills people like Magnussen.  And what type of person is Magnussen?  According to Sherlock he is ‘the Napoleon of blackmail’ who runs the Western world from Appledore, using the “greatest respository of sensitive and dangerous information anywhere in the world”.  And as long as Magnussen has that information “the personal freedom of anyone you have ever met is a fantasy”.  He’s not a very nice person, in fact, he’s a pretty nasty guy who turns Sherlock’s stomach.  When Magnussen flicks John’s face at Appledore he tells him “I know who Mary hurt and killed.  I know where to find people who hate her.  I know where they live.  I know their phone numbers.  I could phone them right now and tear your whole life down.”  He could set these people on Mary, and they obviously wouldn’t call the authorities to have her arrested and properly tried in a court of law.  They would hunt her down and kill her.  Probably not very nicely, because they are not-very-nice people.  So Mary may be right, people like Magnussen should be killed; that’s why there are people like her.

Who else has killed someone?

and then justified it as the killing of a not-very-nice person who deserved to die?

Remember that when John shot the cabbie Sherlock was voluntarily taking the pill - he wasn’t being coerced.  This means that John cannot avail himself of the “defense of other” defense to murder (akin to self-defense except that the homicide is committed to defend the life of another person, not yourself).  Sherlock confirms this when he tells John that he wasn’t really going to take the pill (true, John doesn’t believe this, but he does acknowledge that Sherlock was voluntarily risking his life to prove he was clever, because that’s how he gets his ‘kicks’).  John actually committed murder that night and then threw the murder weapon in the Thames.  Nevertheless, we love it when they giggle at the crime scene and then go off to dinner together. 

Also remember that after John shoots the cabbie Sherlock tortures him to force him to reveal Moriarty’s name telling him “you’re dying, but there’s still time to hurt you”.

Finally, remember who actually does kill Magnussen:

So don’t be too judgmental of Mary.  Both John and Sherlock have committed murder to save each other.  I don’t hear anybody criticizing them for doing this - in fact they are praised for doing so.  So why the double-standard when it comes to Mary?  Is it because we don’t know her back-story?  Sherlock has deduced that Mary was an intelligence agent, but he does not know what country she was serving. By her blonde hair I suppose we are to assume she is Russian, but that could be a red herring.  Sherlock trusts her, maybe, because, like him, she is on the ‘side of the angels’, even if she isn’t one herself. 

The fandom shouldn’t complain when John Watson’s wife turns out to be an assassin, because if the fandom likes Sherlock Holmes, and the fandom likes John Watson, then it is, indeed, what the fandom likes.

[justfandomwritings]

By The Norns (Part One - Soulmate!Loki)

Pairing: Loki x Reader, Soulmates AU

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Nobody was harmed in any way in the making of this story... but there was some arson.

Summary: She wasn’t a goddess. She wasn’t even an elf or a dwarf. She was a mortal, a Midgardian, a human. To Odin, she was a curse. To Loki, she was a second chance.

Notes: Don’t worry. Despite what the chapter and the description may make you think anyone whose read my stories before will know I am not a fan of soulmate aus that take away the character’s choice. This chapter is set up. Stick with me on this. I promise. Posted in honor of @muna1412​ being very excited at the prospect of another soulmate au.

This is not related to Loyalty in any way... I just have an unhealthy obsession with Soulmate aus. 

Fate was a funny, fickle thing. Loki knew that much. After all, he’d met her. 

Them, to be more precise. The Norns.

Urdr, Skuld, and Verdandi were their names: Past, Present, and Future, as they should be known.

It was they who watered the tree, and they who grew its leaves. The task fell to the Norns to write, shape, create, and control the fate of every being under the branches of Yggdrasil. 

A poor, dwarven craftsman working on the surface of Nidavellir, a beautiful, golden elf living on a hill in Alfheim, a meager, puny human scurrying around the surface of Midgard. It was they who made the dwarf rich, who killed the elf in his sleep, who let the human sow the land. They did not exchange the gold; they did not wield the dagger; they did not draw the plow. But it was by their hand, by their grace and mercy, that the worlds turned, that life waxed and waned, that the Realms drew breath. 

Every birth was through their will. Every death was by their hand, and everything in between was because they decided it would be so.

All fell under the gaze of the Norns. The kitchen cook, Andhrimnir, who served the Aesir’s table at night, owed everything to the Norns. They allowed his birth into Asgard. They raised him above the station of a lowly tavern boy. They gifted him the family he cradled so dearly to his chest.

Odin, King of the Nine Realms, Protector of Asgard, owed everything to the Norns. He was born by their choice. He survived a thousand battles because they said he would do so. He married Frigga because they put her on his path. His sons… 

Well, one of his sons.

Loki knew the exact moment Odin stopped looking at him as a son, the exact moment Odin chose Thor over him, the exact moment Odin turned his back on him, the exact moment his father marked him disappointment.

It was, like all things, the doing of the Fates. The Norns.

Fates were theirs to command from the highest branches of Yggdrasil down to its very roots. From king to beggar, slave to master, aristocrat to pauper, farmer to merchant, sailor to soldier. From Loki to her. She was their doing.

Love was an inevitable part of life. Not even the Norns, with all of the power of the gods and then some, could stop that. Humans, Aesir, Elves, Vanir, the sentient beings of the Nine Realms felt an overwhelming urge towards emotion, and one of the strongest, one of the most inevitable, was love.

They couldn’t stop it, but they could direct it.

It fell under the purview of Fate to decide who one loved. People, god and mortal alike, fell in and out of love all the time. 

Sometimes, though, every now and then, the Norns would reach down and touch two beings. The Norns would take two souls in two bodies and braid them together, weave them together, mold them together, as if they were one.

Those who knew magic well, those like Loki, could see them, watch them, doing this. 

They could see Urdr floating, invisible amongst them, deciding the pair. They could see Skuld, plucking up their souls. They could see Verdandi tying them together.

Loki watched them when they took his soul.

“Mother, Mother,” Loki tugged on his other’s silk skirts and pointed up into the rafters of the Grand Hall. “What’s that?”

Frigga followed her son’s gaze and gasped. Magic was not her proficiency, though what little she had she wielded well. She had enough to see the Norns, floating ghostlike in the air over her younger son. She had enough to see his soul in their hands, and another at their side. 

In the old days, before that fateful night, it was considered an honor to be chosen by the Norns. It was a guarantee of a great, powerful destiny in the future. It was a promise of passion, understanding, and respect on the horizon. It was the mark of one who would know true love. 

The Midgardians called them soulmates. The Aesir called them the destined. 

“The Norns have touched Loki,” Frigga whispered to Odin at her side. “They are gifting him a match.”

“With who?” Odin asked because he could not see them for himself.

Frigga squinted in the direction of the apparitions tying together Loki’s future. “I cannot tell. She appears to be…” Frigga’s eyes whipped around to Odin, “Midgardian.”

Odin turned up his nose and sniffed.

Midgard. The word, the world, that had sentenced Loki to a lifetime of second best. 

His ‘destined’, his ‘soulmate’, his curse.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was centuries before the soul tied to Loki’s found the body it would spend its own life in.

(Y/n), her parents named her. 

They weren’t sure why they named her that. When asked, they said they saw the name once in a book. Or was it on the tv? Or in a dream? 

Neither could really remember. All they knew was that, as she grew, the name suited her perfectly. Almost as if fate itself had chosen it for her.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For centuries, millennia even, her soul had been lingering on the edges of reality, existing but not quite feeling. She floated through time and space, following the ties that bound her to existence, waiting.

By the time her soul entered her body on Earth, she had existed longer  than any other Midgardian ever had or would in all of history. She had lingered for years just out of reach of one of the most powerful beings on Asgard, her soulmate. Lifetimes had passed her by in the blink of an eye, and though she didn’t remember any of them, they remembered her.

Her soul hovered above its mate, basking in the magic that dissipated into the air around him like smoke. She breathed it in, soaked it in, drew it in.

In many ways, even subconsciously, she showed her age, her mate.

Even as a baby, she never woke her mother up screaming, to the jealousy of her mom’s friends. She was the model toddler, even through her terrible twos. She almost never cried and rarely threw temper tantrums. They called her a prodigy when she started speaking in full sentences before time doctors even expected her to be learning her first words, and they called her a genius when she learned to read full children’s books while other kids were still struggling through their first alphabet flashcards. Even though she ran around playing in the mud or splashing in puddles, somehow her clothes were always pristine. She taught herself faster than the teachers could and skipped two grades in elementary school alone. She was suspiciously charismatic for such a little girl and made, literally, hundreds of dollars off her lemonade stand. She listened to a family speaking another language in the store once and ran up to them to answer a question they had; when her parents asked her how she’d learned to understand or say that in another language, she had no idea what they were talking about and seemingly hadn’t even realized she’d done it. 

And yet there were other things, darker things. 

When she was born, the nurses didn’t question the little shock of static that jolted through them as they held her. No one commented how, in the right light, the baby’s eyes could look terrifyingly aware. She lied as easily as she breathed and almost never got caught. A girl made fun of her friend's hair once at school, and that night ended up being rushed to the hospital by her parents with all the signs of a heart attack in a five year old child. She liked having things her way, and even when her parents refused her, they always found themselves oddly compelled to do whatever it was anyways. She had an affinity for snakes that often found her letting them in the house. The pranks she pulled on her little brother sometimes got out of hand and often resulted in loud crashes and screams, though by the time any adult arrived nothing ever seemed broken. Her father used to joke that she must be some kind of shape shifter because he swore that, from day to day, her eye would change their color. Sometimes, when he looked in them, he swore they weren’t his daughters, but when he blinked and looked back they always returned to normal. 

Most of it was written off as the simple oddities of a child or exaggerations of first time parents. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Superheroes did not exist when (Y/n) was a child. 

It would be another decade before Tony Stark would stand on a stage and proclaim before the world, “I am Iron Man.” It would be even longer still before Peter Parker would put on a red and blue jumpsuit and call himself, ‘Spiderman’. Bruce Banner hadn’t even begun his research into the serum that would be his ultimate undoing. Dr. Stephen Strange was finishing up med school. Thor hadn’t made his presence known. Wanda had just been born. Hawkeye and Black Widow were still assassins working in the shadows. No one outside Wakanda had ever heard of the Black Panther. Vision hadn’t been built yet, and Captain America had been dead for decades. 

Even if they did exist, it wouldn’t have helped (Y/n). Most of them weren’t born super. Most of them became so by lab experiments or radioactive insects or training or technology. 

In the world (Y/n) grew up in, there were no superheroes. And if there were no superheroes... then what was she? 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was 12. 

It was her big day. 

Not her birthday, she didn’t particularly care about birthdays. Something about them just felt off to her. When she turned 11, she asked her mom if she could have two of those candles that were shaped like the actual numbers, and she’d put them pressed against each other on top of the cake. She ran around all day telling everyone she was 1,111. Some people laughed, but mostly to humor her.

That was why she hadn’t had a birthday party when she turned 12. She didn’t like people fake laughing. It felt like lying. She didn’t particularly mind lying herself, but she hated thinking that people were lying to her. Especially because she could always tell when they were. 

No, instead, she had this. The Science Fair.

She’d won first prize the night before. She knew she had because one of the judges had told her she’d won.

That morning, they would be handing out the awards, and she was so excited for everyone else to know the secret, to know that she was the best, even better than the older kids in her class.

The judges were walking up on stage, and any moment, once they got past the category winners they were going to call her name.

“In third place we have Jesse Martin with his project in the biology category!” 

A cheer went up that, judging by the pitch, absolutely must have been from Jesse’s mom. The other parents in the room clapped while Jesse ran towards the stage, turning red in the cheeks from his family’s overzealous encouragement. 

“Congratulations, son,” the Dean smiled as he bent down to shake the boy’s hand. The mike picked up a small bit of Jesse’s anxious thanks before he ran to join the line of winners.

“And in second place we have, (Y/n)! With her wonderful….” 

Second place. 

But Mr. Sellers, the science teacher had told her she won. 

Was he lying? Did he honestly think second place was winning? Was he just saying that to shut her up? Or was he being mean? Did he want to laugh at her when his real favorite won? 

The parents were cheering her, including her own. Her father was nudging her towards the stage, but she didn’t at all appreciate the gesture.

No. They told her she was going to win. 

Her face screwed up in pain, and she balled her hands into fists.

At the back of the room something exploded. 

A scream went out. 

“Fire!” Someone shouted. “Fire!”

The poster boards up and down the hall were catching fire. It jumped easily from paper to paper. It didn’t help that there was no smoke, for some odd reason. That the sprinklers, that the fire alarm, didn’t turn on.

Someone grabbed (Y/n) by the waist. Her father no doubt. 

(Y/n) barely noticed. She was still upset staring at the trophy on the stage over his shoulder. 

Slowly, before her eyes, it began to melt.

She smiled. Good. If she couldn’t have it, no one could.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“She caused the fire.” He whispered, staring down at the floor in front of him with glassy eyes. 

“Wayne, that’s crazy; you know it is.” 

“I saw it with my own eyes, Elle. She clenched her first and suddenly Christina Danvers poster exploded. She gets second, and the first place project explodes the moment she throws a fit?”

“Our daughter doesn’t throw fits.”

“Not normally, but she did today. She was about to, and then everything caught fire.”

“Wayne, you can’t be serious about this right now.”

“She was smiling.” He whispered. “When everything burned down, she was smiling.”

(Y/n) listened silently from the hallway as her parents talked.

She loved to eavesdrop on her parents late night. They never knew she was there. It was another one of those odd coincidences of her life that (Y/n) was the only person in the house who never made the steps creak when she walked up and down the stairs. 

She was old enough to know what they were saying, what they were implying. It should’ve bothered her more than it did.

(Y/n) walked back upstairs, silent as the grave, and opened her closet.

She needed the duffle bag her father kept tucked away in the top of her closet, but she was nowhere near tall enough to reach it. As the door slid open, the bag teetered on the edge of the wire shelf and fell to the floor. 

“How convenient,” (Y/n) mumbled to herself. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey Kid,” The man shouted at her out the window of his semi-truck. “What’re you doin’ out here at night? It ain’t safe!” 

(Y/n) shrugged. “Not safe at home either.” 

The man gave her an understanding look. 

(Y/n) watched him carefully as he opened the door of his rig and offered her a hand. 

Her mother had always told her not to talk to strangers, but (Y/n) had found she could always tell what people wanted. Besides, she was pretty sure she was a greater danger to them than they were to her. 

“Where ya’ headed?” The man asked.

“West.”

“I can take ya’ as far as Texas.” He offered. 

(Y/n) hopped off the curb and grabbed the man’s offered hand, hauling herself up into the passenger seat. 

She didn’t know where she was going or why she was going there. But something inside of her told her she had somewhere to be.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Time On.... Part Two

Thank you very much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed. I have just come back from a hiatus and a great deal of why I went on said hiatus was the stress of managing ‘added features’ for lack of a better expression. I like writing. I don’t like formatting or managing the blog side of things. 

As such, no taglists. Please don’t ask me to be on a taglist. Keeping track of it stresses me out too much. I don’t feel like doing it. I don’t appreciate being pressured into doing it. In the olden days of tumblr, people used to follow each other, and I promise you that feature still works. If you follow me you will see part two when it’s posted. 

[bonky-n-steeb]

𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙽𝙴

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

Oh, lawd! i have to post everything again! Send me all your energy. If you wanna be tagged, just inform me!

Also, I’ll be changing the story by a little, (or by a lot, idk) from my previous version.

You were feeling like John Travolta from the music video of Stayin’ Alive. Vibing to your own rhythm, living your own freedom. Attending college miles away from your hometown, you were the captain of your ship. Though you loved your parents more than anything, you were glad for the freedom granted upon you.

Your Freshmen year had just begun and you had already made a few friends. But what you didn’t want to accept just yet was your crush on one of them, Bucky. With his steely blue eyes and boyish charm, even a goddess might fall for him, and you were just a mortal. You were simply happy with being friends as you believed he would never like you and well, a little crush never hurt nobody.  

Completing your shift in a local bookstore, just outside the campus, you were walking back, lost in your own thoughts. What caught your attention was a group of howling high schoolers; from the look of it, they were barely a year to two younger than you. A group of tall and popular kids were bullying a skinny, helpless dude; ufff the usual cliché you thought to yourself. What you failed to notice though was his bleeding nose.  

You were a kind soul, always helping others, but you were no fool. All alone in an unknown town, you weren't going to confront the burly teens who were twice your own size. After giggling and cracking some stupid jokes on the poor dude trying to impress a girl, they left him and that’s when you noticed all the blood. You quickly crossed the road and walked towards him. He seemed smaller than he was as he was crouching down and trying to rub all the blood.

“Hey! Pinch your nose, don’t disturb it by rubbing.” you said while bending down. “Uhh, okay... thanks!” he looked at you with big doe eyes and you were utterly mesmerized by the blue oceans he had for his eyes. “Do you.. Do you need something else kid? Where do you live?” you asked giving him a candy and your water bottle. “I’m no kid!” he exclaimed and you flinched.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You are helping me and here I am shouting at you.” You could clearly see remorse in his eyes and you wondered why would someone hurt him? “yeah, yeah.. It's Okay... now have this candy, the sugar will help you feel better.” you said with a soft smile. “thank you so much... and by the way I live two streets across. I mean I can go by myself, I'm a grown-up.. But...” he trailed off and you helped him get up.

“I’m Steve” he tried his best to smile and you followed by sharing your own name. And with that his chatter train began, he explained that he was just trying to help another girl getting bullied, when the bullies decided to change their target and chase Steve instead.

“you should wear your own mask first and then help others wear theirs.” you quipped and instantly bit your tongue. “Hmm, what?” he asked genuinely curious. “what I meant is that you did what is correct and very brave, but sometimes you gotta think for yourself too. But these are just my thoughts.” you shrugged. “I’ll remember that.” he said with a genuine expression. And after a million thank yous he finally went in his house. By the size of his house, he seemed rich and you wondered maybe this wasn't that cliché.  

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

The next day, you were walking back the same road, when you thought of Steve. He really was a kind and sweet person. This world needed more of people like him. And just then you saw him smiling brightly and waving at you, his nose bandaged. He had a huge box in his hand.

“Heyyyyy! Thank you for helping me yesterday. So I just... kinda got this as a ... a token of appreciation. I considered you might like donuts, so I got you this.” He said rubbing his nape. His cheeks had become so red he looked like a ripe tomato. “well, if you haven’t already given me diabetes by saying so many thank yous, after eating sooo many donuts I’ll surely get it.” At that you both chuckled and the atmosphere became lighter. As you picked a donut, he looked at you with such admiration you thought you would melt then and there.

Suddenly with a stern expression you asked “what if it’s drugged?” His eyes widened and he stuttered, “I... I would never do that ...” he looked down and you thought he might cry. “hey waittt.. don’t get so sad.. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I was just joking. I have this really bad habit of saying things when I shouldn’t. God I just ruined everything.” You just made a mental note not to joke around him, he seemed to be quite emotional. Though it was going to be difficult to tame your tongue. “don’t be. I just take things too literally.... anyway let’s have some donuts what say?” He said with such shine in his eyes you wondered whether he was sad just a moment before.

You both walked up to your university campus, munching on donuts. You both shared things about yourselves. You told him how you were passionate in becoming a doctor. He on the other hand talked about his struggles in studying. “will you help me? You are so smart and bright, will you help me study if I have a doubt or something?” he asked giving his big doe eyes.

You weren’t going to agree at first, you had just met him a day ago. But after looking in those calm blue pools of his eyes you agreed. Seeing the joy on his face, you wondered whether he just won an Oscar.

What you didn’t know was that Steve had already fallen in love with you, yes love, he was convinced that you were the one for him, his one true love. Not a moment had he been able to think of anything but you since he had met you. You were everything he needed and wanted and much more. He was simply desperate to spend more time with you.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

It had been around six months since you met Steve. Over the time you two had turned out to be best friends. While Steve had fallen even more in love with you, you had fallen hopelessly in love with bucky. While you always told bucky about Steve and vice versa, you never confessed to Steve about your love for Bucky, thus furthermore increasing his hopes. You desperately wished to make Steve and Bucky meet. They were two important people in your life and you more than anything wished that they got together well.  

Today was the day when you decided to arrange a small meet and greet at the park where you and Steve met every day. You and Bucky walked together towards the tree where you usually sat with Steve waiting there for you. You knew both would like each other, but somewhere deep within your gut you were getting a not-so good feeling about this.  

Steve’s eyes lit up seeing you but as they turned to Bucky, it felt as if all the energy had been sucked out of him. You didn’t like that one bit. “Bucky!?” Steve exclaimed in half disappointment and half fear. “You both... you both know each other?” you ask bewildered. You tried chuckling to lighten the mood but by the looks of it they were sworn enemies, but you prayed that you were wrong. “yeah, we know each other a little too well... Uh... We were good friends once.” Steve quietly admitted.

All this time Bucky had his jaw clenched, dragging in a deep breath he began. “I knew it! I knew it would be you, you little fucker! You want to have everything don’t you? Goddammit! I had this feeling it was you but I thought it was too much of a coincidence, but no. fate had to be so cruel.” you were shocked to see Bucky's sudden outburst. You wondered what conspired between the two, as either hadn’t ever mentioned the other.  

You were snapped out of your thoughts with Bucky calling your name. “let’s go. I don’t want to see him even for a minute more and neither do you.” Bucky started pulling your hand but you stopped him “Bucky no. I guess you have some misunderstanding; Steve is a good person. And you don’t get to tell me who to talk to and who to not.”

Suddenly Bucky turned back to Steve, anger written all over his face. “You didn’t tell her, huh, did you? Don’t worry I'll tell her. Steve is the son of Joseph Rogers and he is the freaking Don Corleone of this area. Do you know how my father died? Steve’s father had him killed just because unknowingly he provided shelter to his father’s fugitive. Steve just pretends to be a caring, emotional person but he is a snake behind that mask, so is everyone in his family.” towards the end Bucky was in tears and you were in utter shock. Now that you tried to remember, Steve never really did tell you much about his family. And the fact that Steve wasn’t denying any single allegation made you want to puke your guts out.

“You have taken too much from me. But not this. Not her. Not the woman I love more than anything.” Bucky said it out loud in the heat of the moment. You were too dumbstruck to even blink. Did Bucky just confess that he loved you?  

Bucky turned to you and held your arm with such softness you wondered if he was just now screaming his lungs out at Steve. “I know I can't tell you who to be with, and I promise I never will in the future, but trust me you want to be caught up with him or his family. And still, if you choose him, well then, I can’t be with you.”

You knew you had to make a choice then and there, there was no going back, and you chose Bucky.

[boldlyvoid]

Spy Kids

400 Follower Celebration Fic #3 for @meganskane

fic #1 | fic #2

Summary: Spencer and Y/N's kids think that they are secretly spies and request a mission story before bed.

warnings: bomb threat, mentions of euthanasia, Cat Adams, general fluffiness

word count: 900

From the time they were 5, the kids had told everyone that their parents were spies… and no matter how much Spencer and Y/N told them they weren’t, and even if they were it would blow their cover… the kids still firmly believed that they were secret government spies.

Why else did they leave in the middle of the night with guns and bags to sit in a special airplane and run around the country catching bad guys? It was a nicer way of thinking about the terrible things that go on in their actual job, so they indulged them.

Twins weren’t easy but it was the best thing that happened to them. Juniper and Edwin are the best little kids they could ever ask for, one boy and one girl and two incredible personalities. They were a team, sometimes in the worst ways possible, always getting in trouble and never turning on one another.

They enjoyed sharing a room still, they had beds side by side and enough room for mom and dad to crawl in beside them for storytime. Junie was cuddled with her father while Eddie was laying on his mom’s chest as she ran her fingers through his hair. He’s always been a momma’s boy, much like Spencer.

“Can you tell us a spy story tonight?” Junie asked.

Y/N sighed with a small laugh, “why don’t we tell you about the evil Cat that almost crashed our wedding?”

“We can’t tell them that one,” Spencer interjects, “it’s not that funny or happy.”

“Well, you get married at the end right?” Junie asks, “so then it is a happy ending.”

“So there,” Edwin teases with a tongue out, “now you have to tell us.”

“Fine, does Mom want to do the honours?” Spencer asks, seeing where on earth she could take this story.

“You know how weddings work right? Your dad was waiting for me at the end of the aisle and grandpa was just about to walk me down, and this human-cat hybrid woman shows up out of nowhere,” Y/N is over-enthusiastic and the kids get riled up as a result.

“She’s parachuting out of the sky and your dad looks at me like oh no it’s the assassin from my missions before I met you!” She gasps.

“She was evil, she put me in jail and she hurt me, and I was so scared of her hurting your mom too,” Spencer adds with a sad tone, he hated how much Cat tried to ruin his life.

“But your mom is really cool, and I was able to kick her butt even with my dress on! And then we cuffed her up and sent her away, but she knew we’d get her so she had a fake cop come and get her and then just bring her back and she tried to blow up the party!”

Spencer hated remembering it, but it was a wild story, one worth sharing. “Your dad and I had to solve a bunch of clues to get the count down to stop and we did just in time!”

“What happened to the cat?” Junie asked.

“She, unfortunately, went to sleep and didn’t wake up one day,” Spencer glares at Y/N, this was the reason he didn’t want to say anything to the kids about it.

“She’s in hell,” Edwin whispered.

“What?” Y/N laughed, holding him closer, “where did you learn that?”

“Henry told us that Jack's mom is in heaven and the guy who killed her is in hell, that’s where all the bad guys go,” Junie explained on her brother’s behalf, pushing the blame off onto someone else, like always.

“But, at the end of the day your mom and I got to celebrate being in love with each other through everything… even if that means assassin cat’s and parachutes on what is supposed to be the best day of our lives,” Spencer smiled as he pulled Juniper in closer.

“Wrong,” she whispered, “the best day was when I was born.”

“And me.” Edwin added, “just cause you came out first doesn’t make it just your day.”

“I’m pretty sure it does,” she teases right back, sticking their tongues out at each other.

“You two are too much,” Spencer laughed.

“Not too much though, you should have more,” Junie was soft in her request, “I think it would be cool to have another sibling.”

“Yeah!” Edwin agreed, “another boy!”

“We can name him…” Junie took a moment to think, “Patrick… yeah.”

“Why?” Y/N and Spencer laughed and asked at the same time, making eye contact from across the room as they did so. Their kids were the weirdest…

���Junie, Eddie and Patty,” Juniper said it like it all made sense the first time and they should have gotten it then… she was too sassy for being 7.

“It’s settled,” Y/N agreed. “Go to bed so we can discuss how we can have 3 kids and still be spies.”

“So you admit it then?” Junie smirked as she won.

“We’re spies,” Spencer agreed, kissing the top of her head before crawling out of her bed. “Now go to sleep.”

They traded kids and exchanged good night hugs, sending them off to bed with an I love you and a blown kiss from the door, they were the best spy kids in the whole world.

taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[marvelhero-fics]

Snowman

Series - Chapter Two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’re a HYDRA assassin that’s worked closely with the Winter Soldier, to each of your dismay you’re reunited with Bucky after the blip. 

A/N: Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist, no spoilers in this chapter!

Word Count: 1,750

Snowman Masterlist || Full Masterlist 

New York

2023

“Did you see her much after that mission?” Dr Raynor asked Bucky. She seemed interested in (Y/N).

“Yea. I saw her in passing a few times. She spent a lot of time at the base I was at. Sometimes I’d be out of cryo for weeks on a mission. That’s when I saw her the most.”

“What did you do together?”

“Played card games, trained together, built weapons, I taught her how to snipe. Normal shit, I guess.” It felt strange thinking about it all. It felt like a different lifetime to him.

“I guess that is somewhat normal for trained assassins. Did you tell her anything about yourself? After she explained her story, did you reciprocate that?” His therapist questioned.

“I couldn’t. I didn’t really remember that much about myself. Everything I knew was wiped, I was pretty much a blank slate. I couldn’t even tell her my name because I didn’t know it.” Bucky shrugged.

“What did she call you then?”

“She gave me a nickname. Snegovik. It means snowman in Russian. She thought it was hilarious, because I was the Winter Soldier. If anyone else called me snowman I would’ve snapped their necks, but when she did it-'' Bucky paused to think, “It felt nice.”

Moscow

2012

“What’re you doing, snegovik? (snowman)” You placed yourself down at the table opposite Bucky. He looked up at you, his pale blue eyes gazing into yours. You noticed Bucky started looking differently at you as you spent more time together. Instead of a look of hostility or annoyance as he gave to everyone else, it was a gentle look. A look you would give birds dancing in a fountain on a warm day, or a look you would give the sun as it rose so smoothly over the snowy mountains.

“Reading.��� He shut the file laid out in front of him. The maroon file had a black HYDRA symbol resting in the middle. It was his next target.

“I haven’t had a case in weeks. I’m bored out of my mind. Do you wanna go to the firing range with me?” You queried. The HYDRA base you were currently stuck at had one of the largest firing ranges down in the basement, with a very fun collection of weaponry.

“I know what we can do. Let’s go snezhinka. (snowflake)” Bucky pushed up against the table to stand, he grabbed his file and walked off. You quickly followed behind.

The two of you ended up in a large room full of dark grey lockers. It was an empty, dusty smelling room. Not many agents or assassins resided at this base so it was mostly desolate.

Bucky pulled a few lockers open, his metal fingers clanking against the steel lockers. He tossed a large coat towards you. It was black with a soft fur lining the hood.

“Put that on.” He demanded.

“Are we going outside?” You asked, tossing the coat over your shoulders and zipping up the front.

“Mhm.” Bucky pulled his sniper rifle out of a locker. It was already put together. He grabbed a small, red box of ammunition and an extra scope. He walked off again, he tended to do that.  

You waltzed off behind him.

“Don’t you need a coat too?”

“No. I’m the snowman, remember?” He smirked back at you. Bucky didn’t smile very often, you always tried to savour the moments that he did.

The two of you exited the compound through a side door, it simply led out into the snowy forest. He began walking out into the snow, along a path he’d obviously walked plenty of times before. The large pines that inhabited the forest were covered in a layer of thick snow. The reminisce of grass and flowers barely poked through the large sheet of white on the ground.

Bucky’s path guided to a small, wooden sniper nest. It was an old sniper range that used to be for protecting the base. As more enhanced people began showing up, HYDRA moved to using giant concrete bunkers instead.

Bucky threw down a thin, dark green blanket and lay down on his stomach. He quickly set up his sniper rifle and adjusted the scope.

“Lie down.” He asserted. You complied, lying down on your stomach next to him. There was nearly no room between your bodies, the sniper nest seemed like it was only made for one. His body radiated heat like a fire. So much for snowman, you thought. Bucky lined up the spare scope and passed it over to you.

“Look through that.”

You stared through the small scope, it showed a few trees over two kilometres away. “What am I looking for?” You asked, quietly.

Bucky didn’t reply. The sound of the silenced sniper announced, and a single pinecone burst into pieces. You turned from the scope to look at the man next to you. “That was 2,000 meters away, holy shit.”

“2,248 meters.” He added, lifting the sniper to sit in front of you. “Your turn.”

“I told you, snegovik, I can’t snipe. I’ve never been good at it.”

“I’ll teach you.” He took the spare scope from your hand. “Get nice and close to the gun, your  shoulder should be up against this part,” he motioned to the back end of the rifle, you shuffled so you were in place, “look through the scope,” you did as he instructed, “and here,” his hand grabbed your wrist, the cool metal of his fingers burnt against your hand. You didn’t know much about how his metal arm worked, but he seemed to have amazing control over it. He was so gentle as directed your hand to a dial near the scope, “use this to adjust your sight. Take it to 500 metres out, we’ll start off easy.”

You adjusted the scope. 500m. You agilely moved to line up with a large pine cone resting on one of the giant pine trees.

“Deep breath.” Bucky said lightly, “fire.”

Your finger snapped down the trigger and the bullet flew. Bucky watched through his own scope as the bullet hit its target.

“I did it!” You announced,

“You’re not as bad as you thought.” He smiled, “go further out and try again.”

You and Bucky sat in that tiny sniper nest shooting pinecones for hours.

~

Bucky left early that morning for his mission, leaving you at the base by yourself for a few days. You spent most of those days shooting and you spent your nights combat training. Unsurprisingly, you’d developed some severe insomnia. In your line of work it wasn’t uncommon. Kraken didn’t want you to take any sort of sleeping medication that the HYDRA doctors suggested because he was afraid it would affect your work ethic. He wanted you staying sharp. Arguably, running off no sleep didn’t have you very sharp.

It was another regular night. 2, maybe 3 in the morning, you were in the gym, giving everything you had to a black punching bag. Your bandaged knuckles were feeling the force with every blow. You tiring body felt shaken under the strenuous training you were putting yourself through.

“It’s a bit late for this, snezhikna.” A deep voice announced from the entrance of the gym. You turned to see a muscular figure. He was covered in black clothing, only revealing his face and his large metallic arm. Not many people were able to sneak up on you, except Bucky, he always could.

“How was the mission?” You returned to your punching bag.

“The target was eliminated.” You heard the faint sound of his boots approaching. By the time you spun around he was directly behind you. “Let’s spar. It doesn’t look like that bag’s putting up much of a fight.”

He moved towards the thin gym mats. You watched as he adjusted his arm, each metal part whirring into place. You unravelled your knuckles, standing on the mat opposite him. The two of you stared in silence for a moment, the tension between you hung like a heavy, black smoke. A vicious grin flicked along your mouth and you began.

Punches were met with dodges, kicks were defended with blocks. You ducked, grabbed his metal wrist and pinned it behind him. He adjusted and threw your body over the top of him. You landed hard on the ground. He smiled. You whipped around and caused his legs to fall out from beneath him. He fell, and you quickly moved to throw your legs around his neck. He lay on the ground in a choke hold between your legs. You didn’t apply too much pressure, just enough to stop him from moving.

“Nice job.” He grunted. Just as you thought he would tap out, he grabbed either side of your waist and twisted you so he was able to free himself from your legs. You scrambled to get off your back but Bucky was too quick. His muscular legs had your ankles pinned down and his metal arm had both of your wrists over your head. It clicked into place and held you pinned to the ground.

You’d never felt weak in your life, you were skilled, strong, smart. But Bucky sitting above you like this made you feel so small.

“How can I tap out if you’re holding my arms?” You joked.

Without a moment's warning Bucky lowered his head and pressed his lips against yours. Everything about Bucky was harsh, rough, and cold. But his kiss, it was gentle and sweet.

You kissed back without hesitation, his metal arm relaxed and your hands tangled into his messy hair. He unpinned your legs and you instinctively wrapped your thighs around his waist. His soft, real hand caressed your waist, holding you as if you were fragile china.

He didn’t touch you with his metal hand. He used it to hold up his weight. He never barely ever touched you with that hand. He never knew how strong it really was and he didn’t want to accidentally hurt you. Ever since you’d told him his hand was cold, he’d been much more cautious with it. You were the warmth in his life. He didn’t want to mess that up.

“Snegovik, we can’t do this here.” You smiled up at him, your hands held gently against his cheeks, his stubble tickling your palms.

“Let’s go then, my snezhinka.” He carefully picked you up and led you out of the gym.

Taglist: @selfsun​ @quxxnxfhxll​ @stranger-names​ @bb-tings​ @is-it-really-a-secret​

[fullconstellationalt]

You Weren’t My Mission: Ch. 2

Chapter Two – Making Amends

TW: alcohol, mentions of violence and death

Note: Hello! All chapters will have warnings at the beginning of their content and possible triggers. If you find that I miss any triggers, please let me know and I will add them to the chapter warnings as soon as possible. Thank you! <3

Series masterpost

Also available on Wattpad and AO3

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You stared blankly at the hand in front of you, still attempting to process his mere presence. After a few moments of silence, Bucky nodded and gave a slight grin, resting his extended arm on the edge of the bar.

“Tend to get that reaction,” he chuckled. ･:*:･ﾟ☆

You stared blankly at the hand in front of you, still attempting to process his mere presence. After a few moments of silence, Bucky nodded and gave a slight grin, resting his extended arm on the edge of the bar.

“Tend to get that reaction,” he chuckled. You glanced up, meeting his eyes for the first time since he sat down. A look of worry and sympathy met your own hesitant gaze.

As you held eye contact, your mind reeled through what he’d said, trying to sort out what exactly he meant. Amends? What does he mean ‘make amends’? You didn’t realize that you’d asked your questions aloud in a frantic whisper until the bass of his voice rushed to your ears, making you jump.

“Sorry to startle you. Uh, it’s a part of this whole process I’m going through,” he explained. He paused, waiting for some sort of reaction, but you sat frozen still. “I’ve been meeting with different people that I hurt — no, the Winter Soldier hurt — over the years on Hydra missions. You’re one of the last few names on my list.”

You gave a small nod, eyes darting back to the hand resting against the bar. His list? you wondered. It was then that you noticed how long you’d been holding your breath. You let out a small sigh and briefly closed your eyes, attempting to ground yourself.

“Why?” you asked, shifting your gaze back to his. Your voice was small, barely above a whisper, but he managed to hear you.

Although quiet, your question seemed to grant him some relief from the silence that had been hanging. Taking in a deep breath, he explained, “You were one of the few people who survived Hydra’s attack on The Tribune. I’m sure you know that, though.”

You nodded, mind taking you back to the scene at the hospital in the aftermath of the attack.

Of the forty or so staff members in the office at the time, only six of you had survived. As you laid in your bed at the urgent care clinic, nurses and doctors rushing around you, you kept your eyes pinned on the entrance, praying that more of your coworkers would be wheeled in. After hours of watching from your bed, you came to accept that it was just you six that had made it. You’d lost your best friend and boss. The only person you knew well of the survivors was your boyfriend at the time, who you watched be rushed into the ER as a piece of shrapnel stuck in his side was dangerously close to shrinking that survivor count down to five.

You were snapped back to the present by the clinking of glasses behind the counter, Vincent cleaning up after a party had left.

“Are you going to hurt me?” you asked, meeting Bucky’s gaze once again. He winced at the question, his eyes showing a shimmer of empathy.

“No, I’m not,” he assured you. “I’m actually here to say that-.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “That it wasn’t me who did those things.”

Confused, you arched your eyebrow, to which he continued.

“I was controlled by Hydra for almost about seventy years. They kidnapped me after an accident in Europe while I was on active duty and brainwashed me, making me into a living weapon. I was the Winter Soldier, they made me an assassin. But I wasn’t me, I had no control over myself.”

You nodded, vaguely familiar with the story. You’d known and read about him as the Winter Soldier, a Hydra assassin. While his pardon signified that there was a difference between Bucky and the Soldier, your memories subconsciously considered them as one.

Bucky’s eyes returned a soft and regretful look, glancing down at his metal arm before holding out his palm between you. You stared at it, eyes running over its ridges and flecks of gold.

“They gave me this, the arm,” he explained. “Well, they gave me the old one. This one’s new, from a friend in Wakanda.” Images of his old silver arm raced, memories of the way his metal fingers firmly gripped his gun, a red star painted on his shoulder.

Your eyes flickered between his dark metal fingertips and his gaze, trying to piece together what any of this meant and why he was here in front of you.

“What do you mean by making amends?” you asked again. He’d given the gist, but you couldn’t understand why he was here or what he wanted from you.

Bucky shifted in his seat, relaxing a bit as he sensed your fear turning into confusion. He delved into explaining the process of his making amends, telling you about the types of people on his list and how he wanted to give people closure. He talked about the memory wipes, the separation between him and the Winter Soldier. You nodded along, mind finally wrapping around the concept when he abruptly stopped his explanation.

“I’ll let you go,” he offered, aware of his intrusion on your evening. “I just wanted to explain, you know,” he paused. “That I’m not that person anymore. Or, I guess, that I never was.”

He glanced at the bar top before pressing his hand against the surface, pushing himself out of his seat and onto his feet.

“Thanks for listening to me. I’m sorry for-“ he glanced at the ground before meeting your gaze again. “For everything.” He turned to leave, straightening his arms and stepping out from between your seats.

Your sudden grasp on his arm startled him, Bucky whipping his head around to face you again. He'd never been able to shake the fight or flight instincts that Hydra had intensified in him.

“You don’t have to go,” you suggested. “I mean, you can, but we can talk about it more.”

Bucky nodded slowly, not used to your reaction. Most people were glad to see him leave. But you wanted to know more.

“I think talking about it could help. You know, with the memories and stuff. Plus, I don’t really want to hate you if it wasn’t you that hurt me,” you explained.

Glancing between your grip on his jacket sleeve and your gaze, he hesitantly sat back down. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

“Do you remember it?” you pressed. You relived the memory each night in your sleep and every day at work for years afterwards. It was only recently that you’d been able to suppress it, sometimes making it a couple of days without acknowledging what had happened. How did he even remember you?

“I remember all of them,” he admitted, a hint of sorrow in his voice.

Wanting to break the tension, you waved Vincent over to your end of the bar and motioned towards Bucky’s empty hand. He ordered a glass of whiskey before turning back to you, a hint of a smirk on his lips. Maybe a drink would loosen him up, you thought, unaware of the serum’s restrictions.

While the alcohol had no effect on him, having the drink in his hands seemed to help him relax. He asked about how you’d been faring in the years since the attack, to which you shared briefly of the recurring nightmares and post-traumatic stress you’d faced. You feared that you’d shared too much, but he nodded along, a sympathetic look in his eyes. You weren’t opening up much but talking about it with him helped.

It wasn’t taking you long to recognize that the man in front of you wasn’t the same man who had eyed you down the barrel of his gun. Although difficult, the eye contact and talking with him helped you make this distinction, as did his understanding and willingness to listen. Even when you were sharing about the effects of the trauma had because of the Winter Soldier, things you knew probably weighed heavily on him, he nodded along and gave you his full attention. You felt comfortable telling Bucky these things, and he seemed comfortable around you; neither of you were fully relaxed, but at least were trying to talk.

“What have you been up to all these years?” you asked. “Since Tony, you know …” Ever since everyone came back from the snap, you’d heard about him from time to time, still referenced to by most news outlets as ‘the Winter Soldier.’ You knew he’d been pardoned and seen pictures of occasional sightings, the metal arm a dead giveaway of his identity, but knew little else. He told you he’d been living in Brooklyn the past few years, to which you were shocked that you’d managed to avoid seeing him for so long.

“I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other until now,” you quipped.

Bucky smiled, but you could see the subtle grimace beneath the expression. “Yeah, I’ve been steering clear of anywhere you’d be,” he admitted. Your eyes widened — how had he known where you were? Where you worked now? “I’ve got people who’ve helped me avoid running into you or anyone else around here,” he explained as though he could read your mind, but offering no further explanation. Truthfully, you didn’t want to know the details.

“Why now? What made you come here tonight?” you asked. It had been nagging you the entire evening — what made him come to see you now?

“I’d heard you come here in the evenings,” he offered, exposing yet another detail you didn’t really wish to know. “Figured I’d give you some time before just showing up, didn’t want to scare you more than I have.”

You nodded, grateful that he hadn’t come sooner. Things had gotten better with the nightmares and flashbacks in the past few months thanks to work getting busier, and if he had come to see you any earlier you would have undoubtably had an instant panic attack. You were admittedly creeped out that he knew you would be here, but given his connections, you guessed that he had intel on nearly whatever information he wanted about anyone. Plus, talking with him had proven fruitful for you, helping you disconnect Bucky Barnes from the Winter Soldier. He didn’t say it, but it helped him too, helping him humanize himself.

Over an hour had passed since he sat down, and your stomach twisted in hunger. You’d had two drinks without eating dinner; it was beyond time for you to go home and eat. As the conversation came to a lull, you shifted to face him fully, looking him in the eye.

“Could we meet again?” you ask hesitantly. “I think it may help me, you know, with processing what happened. Only if you want to, though.”

He paused to consider your proposition and you watched as the wheels in his mind turned, weighing the possible outcomes. A moment passed and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a subtle smile. He nodded in approval.

“I’ll come back by soon,” he assured. You nodded and stood up, grabbing your phone and bag before adjusting your shirt, smoothing your hands over your jeans.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” You gave a small nod and did a quick wave to say goodbye, not comfortable with shaking his hand quite yet. While talking to him helped, you weren’t exactly relaxed around him. It was going to take some time for your mind to fully separate him from the man who had threatened your life and ended so many others’.

Fifteen minutes later you were at your front door, fumbling in your bag for your apartment keys. Once inside, you set your bag in its usual spot on the bench in the doorway and walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab the takeout you’d saved from the night before. You dished out your food onto a plate and stuck it in the microwave. As you waited for the timer to go off, you leaned back against the counter.

Besides the sound of the microwave whirring and the occasional honk from the street below, your apartment was completely silent. The silence always gave you time to think, whether for better or worse. Tonight, your mind wandered to the conversations you’d had, running through the details he’d shared and wondering if you’d said too much. Was meeting him again a good idea? Was this really going to help, or were you doing yourself more harm than good?

Just as you began to question yourself, the oven timer rang through the kitchen, making you jump. You grabbed a fork and took your plate from the microwave, walking to your living space to curl up on the couch. Normally you’d put on the news, your mind always focused on work and the need to stay up to date on current events. But tonight, you ate in silence, instead looking out the window at the city street below as your mind wandered back to your interaction with Bucky.

You desperately hoped that this wasn’t a horrible idea.

Next Chapter (Chapter 3 – Adrenaline Rush)

A/N: Thanks for reading chapter 2! I posted both chapters 1 and 2 back-to-back, and am gonna take a little bit to get chapter 3 up but already know where I want for it to go. This is gonna be a bitttt of a slow burn, if you haven't picked up on that yet. Thanks for sticking around!

[movieexpert1978]

Oooh if you’re still doing fanfic prompts, would you write anything for Doc Ock? Cause I would like to request the hurt/comfort part 2 either 4 or 8 with him

Hello anon !!! I finally got a story written for you!!! I hope you enjoy it. I went with #4 "You don't have to be so brave when you're with me." The list is posted by @creativepromptsforwriting

There is some angst here, mention of character death, violence, blood and swearing. The perfect Doc Ock fic, lol. I hope you enjoy it.

Different Stages

She had met him more by accident when she had just finished a job. She was tucking her rifle away when she heard a constant thudding. It reminded her of the T-rex arrival in Jurassic Park. She kept her gun out as he arrived. She had seen the papers and he was the infamous Doctor Octopus as they had labeled him. Two mechanical arms were on the ground while the other two hung around his shoulders protectively.

“Are you going to shoot me?” He asked curiously.

“No, I don’t kill people for free.” She shrugged, lowering the rifle. He took off his sunglasses to look at her.

“You don’t look like an assassin.” He said.

“I know Doctor. That’s why I do it.” She smiled. An eyebrow arched curiously at her comment. “So just passing through?” She asked.

“Actually yes.”

“Well Doctor I won’t keep you. Have a nice day.” She said before leaving.

“Yes that was weird.” Otto said to the arms. There a few more encounters like that until he finally got her one quiet night.

“Are you stalking me Doctor?” She teased.

“Call me Otto.” He answered. “And…yes I supposed I am because I would like to know your name.”

“Call me Evee.” She answered.

“Like the Pokémon?” He asked surprised.

“Oh nice…you’re a bigger nerd than I thought.” She smirked.

“I’ve got a lot more time on my hands.” He shrugged.

“My full name is Evelyn, but I prefer Evee since I always have to change my look at times for a job.” She said, showing a wig. Her hair was short but had some dark orange highlights in it.

“Why the orange?”

“Fall is my favorite season.”

“It’s September.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re a Christmas person?” She huffed.

“No I prefer summer.” He stated.

“Hey if they can do fucking Christmas in July and have Christmas trees out at the end of September then I sure as hell can do my Halloween at the start of August.” She said defensively. Otto let out a genuine good belly laugh.

“Fair enough. That’s true.” He chuckled as he walked closer to her on his own legs.

“Why the sunglasses?”

“My eyes were damaged in an accident.”

“Oh that failed energy fusion thing?” She asked.

“Yes.” He nodded quietly. He noticed her eyes were an interesting shade of green. The arms stared at her curiously as well. One inched up to her and she held out her hand. It nudged it and she traced her fingertips along the metal.

“Are they alive?” She asked.

“In a sense yes, artificial intelligence.” He explained. “They’re surprised you’re not scared of them.” He added.

“I’ve seen people do a lot worse.” She shrugged.

“Is this your style, hanging on roof tops and shooting people?”

“It’s the most effective method.” She answered. “And I’m quite good at it.” She winked. “Can they come off?” She asked pointing to the arms.

“No.” He turned around and showed her the outer spinal column that had been fused into his spine. “That happened during the accident too.” He said before he turned around.

“Ouch, I’m sorry.” She said with sympathy, but he only shrugged.

“I can do a lot more now.” He said. “So Evee, do you live in the city?” He asked.

“Why ? You want a date?” She teased. He actually blushed.

“No, I just wanted to ask since we keep running into each other.” He said quickly.

“Well yes I do.” She smirked. She took out a notepad and wrote something on it. She walked over and put it in his coat pocket. “If you ever want to drop by.” She winked before she left.

Xxxxxxx

The October chill was starting to come and things were getting wet with the rain as well. Evee had finished another job and she started to walk home. Her rifle concealed in it’s long back pack. She stopped and sniffed the air. “Mmmm…rain is coming.” She said. She also noticed the smell of bad after shave as she started walking again. She knew she was being followed as the rain started to fall. She walked down a few back alleys she knew and tucked her rifle in a corner she knew wouldn’t be disturbed. She walked calmly as her other two guns hung on her hips under her long jacket. It wasn’t long before she heard footsteps. She wouldn’t be surprised if more people pooped out so she had to keep her eyes open.

“Fuck it.” She whispered to herself. She spun around with her guns and started shooting. She took out two before more men charged at her from the sides. She ducked and spun around one guy, using him as a shield as his companions still fired and killed him. Evee got off a few more shots before she was punched at from behind. She growled as she grabbed his arms and elbowed him right in the face and broke his nose. He shouted in pain as she shot him in the head. Evee shouted when one man plunged a knife deep in her hip and dragged it to make her bleed.

“Fucker!” She shouted and punched him right in the throat. He started gasping for breath as she shot him. A few more shots and the group was finally down, leaving her breathing hard. “Fuck!” She gritted as she stared at the infernal knife. She couldn’t take it out until she got to her apartment because that’s where her medical kit was. She was limping badly as she made her way back home and finally closed the door behind her. She stumbled into her bedroom and yanked the comforter off. It wasn’t the first time she had nights like this and it made her invest in black bed sheets to help deal with the blood. She got into a tang top and cut her pants off before grabbing the medical kit.

“What happened?” Someone spoke. Evee grabbed the knife at her nightstand and threw it. It was easily knocked out of the way by one of the arms.

“Otto…fuck…sorry…act first…think later.” She sighed.

“No hard feelings.” He said as he came over to her. “What happened?” He asked again.

“Got jumped by a few pros. They didn’t make it.” She smiled.

“Is this normal for you?” He asked.

“Happens at least once a year. People do it to cover their tracks or just want to get rid of the completion.” She shrugged. He couldn’t believe she was so casual about the whole thing, not to mention the knife still in her. “You wouldn’t happen to be a medical doctor too?” She asked with a smirk.

“I have picked up a few more medical skills. Could I tell you if you hit a vein? No. Could I stitch that up if you asked me…yes.” He stated.

“Thank you.” She sighed. He took his coat and gloves off, along with his sunglasses and rolled up his sleeves. “I’m not going to talk you through it.” She said.

“I don’t need you too.” He replied.

“Good, because I’m taking a shot of morphine.” She said as she dug through the bag.

“You’ve got morphine in there?” He gasped.

“Yeah, never leave home without it.” She grinned.

“Easy.” He said taking her hand. She looked at him and for the first time since they fight was she able to finally catch her breath. “You don’t have to be so brave when you’re with me.” He said gently.

“Thank you Otto.” She rasped quietly. After a few moments he helped her take her shot and laid her down on the bed. “Next time we have to have dinner first.” She mumbled before she fell asleep.

Xxxxxxx

She woke up with a hiss of throbbing pain in her leg. She looked down and saw a blanket on her. She pulled it off a bit and saw her wound all bandaged up. She looked at it puzzled for a moment as she started to remember last night.

“Thank you Otto.” She sighed.

“You’re welcome.” He answered as he came into the room. She looked up to see him holding a plate of breakfast for her. While one the arms held a gall of orange juice for her.

“Awww.” She smiled weakly as he came over to her. “Hey can you hand me that aspirin bottle please?” She said pointing. Another arm handed it to her and she couldn’t help but giggle. “They’re so cute once you get used to them.” She said.

“They say thank you.” He said. She took her pills and started eating.

“Thank you for your help last night Otto.” She said quietly.

“You’re welcome Evee.” He smiled.

“Can you…can you stay with me for a little bit…please?” She asked almost like a frightened child.

“Of course.” He nods and sits next to her. After she finished her food she snuggles up to him and he doesn’t question it.

“Did you eat already?” She mumbled.

“Yes. Your apartment is very nice. I’m guessing you own it?”

“Yup.” He started rubbing her back and she hummed softly. The aspirin helped with her throbbing leg. She felt warm and safe in his arms. She couldn’t help but cling to him a bit more tightly.

“Are you ok? You’re tense.” Otto said.

“I can’t remember the last time I felt safe with someone.” She answered honestly. She looks up at him again as he gazes at her. “I know that probably sounds weird coming from me right?” She laughed weakly.

“No.” He said shaking his head. “I’m glad you feel safe with me.” He smiles. She leans in a little closer and so does he. She��s hesitant to go further, but he does it for her. He gently kisses her and she eagerly responds to his touch. She moans softly against his mouth as he lays her back down while his hands cup her face. When he finally pulls away her vision is blurry as she tries to catch her breath. “Evee what’s wrong? You’re crying. Did I hurt you?” He asks concerned.

“N-no.” She says, surprised that’s she’s crying. “It’s just…it’s been a while since I’ve felt a connection with someone.” She admits.

“I understand.” He nods. “I lost my wife, Rosie, in the accident. I thought it was all over…but they…talked to me.” He said pointing to the arms. “And then I kept running into this assassin who named herself after a Pokémon.” He laughed. She couldn’t help but join in.

“I hope I get to meet her sometime.” Evee teased. Otto leaned into her again and gave her another tender kiss.

“Can I stay here for a little bit…please?” Otto whispered. She could hear the pleading in his voice.

“Of course you can.” She smiled. Otto pulled her back into his embrace gently. The arms wrapped around Evee carefully and protectively. She felt him kiss the top of her head before she fell back to sleep to the hum of the metal and the beating of his strong heart.

AN: Just in case, Pokémon isn't mine along with Doc Ock.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO “Dream Come True.”

Hope you guys enjoy, and hope you all have a great day!

Adam took a drink before setting the glass back down on the table. Across from him, Donovan Red took a pull on his whisky, drinking deeply before setting his glass down wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m Sorry about your man….. I didn’t intend for things to go that way.” Adam said staring down at the amber liquid in the glass before him.

Donavan signed, “Not your fault. Sometimes pride gets the better of us, and it’s hard to admit that an outsider might be able to beat us at our own game.” he patted Adam on the shoulder, “But you saved my life, which means I am, and will forever be in your debt.” He smiled 

Adam tilted his head.

“That doesn’t seem to bother you too much.”

“I think there are much worse people to be indebted to. A least I know you won’t ask me to do something I don’t want to do. Not like other men I know.” He took another drink, the tattoos on his neck bobbing once and then twice as he swallowed, “So, tell me this favor that you are looking for. How can me and mine be of service.”

Adam sighed and slumped back in his seat. He felt like he should definitely be keeping quiet about what he wanted to tell the man, but it was hard keeping it to himself and the people on his ship.It would be nice if someone else knew what was going on.

And wasn’t that the point.

Isn’t that why he had come here.

“When I joined the UNSC, I never thought about politics. I was a fighter pilot and then a spaceship captain. I am no politician, but more and more I find myself having to do politics like things. People ask for my opinions on policy, and they encourage me to support one group over another. I have to manuver as a diplomat for the GA without trying to piss off the actual diplomat, who isn’t too happy that I sometimes get in the way of them doing their job.

I am the human representative to all of humanity, and I have to behave the right way, but, sometimes, in doing what I know is right people get mad at me for it. I am worried one day they are going to give me an order that I just can’t follow. Not to mention that I have suddenly become the figurehead for an entire political movement. Sometimes I have to make speeches now.” he threw up his hands, “I represent a coalition interested in cooperating with the GA and all her interests, but there is a very heavy isolationist mindset on earth that is mad that we ever even joined the UNSC. They have already attempted to assassinate me once, and I have no doubt that they are going to do it again.”

Donavan grunted and looked him over, “Yes, I remember hearing about that.” He looked Adam up and down slowly, “No offence, but you would make a shit politician.”

Adam sighed and nodded, “I know. The only reason that I have so much pull in the arena is based on what I represent, and how the GA feels about me, but now…. Now I am learning that there are factions of the GA that want me gone.”

Donavan rased an eyebrow in surprise, “The GA?”

Adam shrugged and sighed pushing his glass away from him, “Yes, some very powerful people are after me for something I never intended to do.”

“And who is this exactly?”

Adam shut his mouth forcing himself to think about it for a moment before finally making his decision.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, “The chairwoman of the GA herself.”

Red almost choked on his drink, spewing some of it out onto the table before swallowing hard and setting his glass down very slowly.

“WHAT!”

“Adam nodded. I was chasing after some information, and infiltrated the pirate wing of the anti-alliance coalition as a man named captain Kell.”

Red held up a hand, “Hold on, YOU are Kell, no shit. I heard the guy was one badass pirate.”

Adam adjusted his eye-patch, “I AM one badass pirate, but either way, I used that cover to get to their leaders and saw a transmission being sent from the chairwoman of the GA that was ordering those men and women to kill me if they could manage it, and now I don’t know what to do. The chairwoman pretty much helped me get my job. As far as I can recall she was one of the most supportive when it came to my promotion to captain. Thought we were allies if not friends, and now I come to learn that she has been operating behind my back to stage my assasination.”

Red leaned up against the table, “Well no shit, that does suck.” He tapped his fingers together, “And of course you can’t tell anyone without proof, otherwise they aren’t going to believe you. If you are going to come up with allegations like those, then you are going to need hard evidence against her.

Adam nodded, “And I do have some evidence, the recording of what she said, but those sorts of things can be doctored. I need to expose her somehow. I don’t know how all of this fits in of course, but it is partially why I came to speak with you.”

Red waited and Adam continued.

“I can’t trust anyone within the GA, or even within the UNSC. My only option is to go outside the law like my enemies are doing. Fight fire with fire so to say. If they are using the criminal underbelly to try and kill me, then maybe I can use it to try and save me.”

Donavan was nodding slowly, “And you are hoping to fight fire with fire to speak?”

Adam sighed, “I don’t know what I am hoping , but I know for a fact you and your men have the most power in this system, enough that everyone knows but no one questions it. I know you can go deeper than I can ever attempt, and I was hoping that maybe you could keep an eye out for me, track the movements of the criminal underworld so to speak while I try and deal with those people who are pretending to do things legally.”

Red nodded slowly, ‘That is something I can do”

“But is it something you are willing to do?”

He tilted his head back thoughtfully to look up at the ceiling above, “I think it is. Not much different from things my men and I already do accept this time it is going to be for a worthy cause.”

He grinned, his gold capped teeth glittering in the dim light, “I-”

Just then, the implant in the side of his neck began to buzz. He held up a hand for Red to be silent, and the other man nodded leaning back in his seat to finish his drink as Adam answered the call.

“Madam president.” His tone of surprise roused red who raised an eyebrow.

“I have to say this is…. This is rather shocking. I didn’t know that you had this number.”

“I can have any number that interests me Admiral.”

“Yes of course.” He shifted nervously in his seat, “What can I do for you ma’am.”

“Do you know what important event happened on July 20th 1969, Admiral.”

He paused not entirely sure if this was a trick question.

“Go on. I know you of all people would know it.”

“The Apollo 11 moon landing ma’am.’

“More precisely, the 2051 anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing. And it has been long in coming but   the Global Aeronautics Space Division has decided to celebrate the occasion by recreating Apollo 11 down to every historical accuracy. The calculations will be done partially by hand and partially by computer. The Ship design will be exactly that of Apollo 11, etc. etc.”

Despite the stress he had been under the last few days, he felt his heart skip a beat.

“Wait, are…. Are you serious! That is amazing!”

“Yes yes.” She said cutting him off.

“And they want…. Or all of us want you to pilot that ship and command the mission as Commander Neil Armstrong would have in his time.”

The only response he was able to manage was a squeak, and he could feel the fangirl in him coming on hard and fast. He tried to clear his throat and remain professional, his heart pounding, a wide grin setting off across his face.

“Yes Ma’am you can count me in.”

“How confident are you that you can pilot the rocket?”

“I can fly anything ma’am.”

“Even so, we would like you back on earth as soon as possible to prepare for the event. This is a big historical recreation, and we want it to go as well as possible.”

“yes ma’am.”

The line went dead and he was no longer able to fight back the grin on his face.

Red watched him before standing, “We will get to work Admiral, and we will keep in contact. It’s good to know that my men and women are going to have something useful to occupy their time instead of sitting around twiddling their thumbs.”

Adam stood as well and took the man’s hand, “It should be a pleasure working with you.”

Red snorted skeptically, “You are too kind. I doubt it will be so pleasant, but consider yourself as a man who has friends in very low places.”

The two of them nodded and Adam excused himself back to his ship, racing towards his rooms with the giddy excitement of a school boy. The clind in him had awoken. He stopped to sit on the edge of his bed staring at the tiny recreated model of the lunar module sitting on the shelf above his bed glowing blue in the neon light above.

How cool was this going to be.

How dangerous was this going to be?

***

Eris was pleased to learn that she was not lactose intolerant. They hadn’t been sure based on her half alien half human anatomy if she would be able to handle some of the more harsh foods of the planet, but everything seemed to be working properly, a fact she was forever thankful for as she polished off her second bowl of ice cream.

She found the treat novel and delectable.

Leave it to human to think of eating flavored snow, or at least frozen cream.

And she liked it when they put little bits of candy on top.

Martha Sat on the floor next to the couch, and her husband sat in his chair watching ‘the Game’. Eris wasn’t sure what the rules were, but she liked watching them crash into each other. She wasn’t a big fan of all the talking they seemed to do in between the crashing together.

Martha and Jim had invited her to stay over for as long as she wanted after she told them the more detailed story of her life. They had been shocked  but ultimately unsurprised to learn that she was less than three years old feeling sorry that she never got to have her childhood.

That’s why they were treating her like this, she knew.

They wanted to give her that little bit of her childhood.

She worried that they would be annoyed at her presence, but they seemed to have time with her sticking around indefinitely as far as she could tell . She wasn’t sure how long she was going to be staying, but for now, she was happy where she was.

Of course part of her being welcome had something to do with how Martha had no one to model clothes for her. Since her youngest son left the house she had been forced to model them herself, which made things difficult when she wanted to make alterations. But now that she had Eris, things were going much more smoothly,

At first Eris had been embarrassed to put on the clothing for her.

Once upon a time Eris hadn’t known better in thinking her body was weird. She had floated around without it using a gravity belt and no clothes, letting her long dark hair and ribbons cover what needed to be covered, but the more she learned about humans, the more self conscious she had grown, until hoodies and baggy pants were the only things she wore.

Martha did not approve of her wardrobe seeming to think Eris would look very striking in red or black.

Eris had tried on a few outfits for her nervousness at just how much of her alien otherness tended to show, with plunging backs and short skirts to show off her marble whie legs. Martha seemed to think the ribbons were pretty, and in everything she had Eris try on, they were on full display.

“Do they work like starborn ribbons?” Martha wondered, “I know they act sort of as solar sales, storing energy from the sun and using that to glide.”

Eris paused, “I don’t know. I was born on noctropolis where there is no sun, so I have never tried it.”

“I think you should.”

Eris shifted nervously, “But.”

Martha just smiled at her, “our backyard is fenced in, no one is going to see you.” Eris thoughts bout it for a moment and then set her bowl down to the side. She stood slowly and walked to the back sliding screen door and stepped out onto their back porch.

Technically it was only fenced in on two sides. The backside was open where the forest  met their lawn growing deep and black as it went further back in to the depths.

Nervously Eris reached up and pulled off her hoodie dropping iit to the ground.

The tank top she wore had been made by Martha to accommodate her ribbons.

Once upon a time her gravity belt had allowed those ribbons to wave and undulate, but here they sagged with gravity and flowed behind her in the occasional wind current.

She turned around so they were facing the sun and waited.

And waited.

She felt nothing happening and was abut to go inside when.

When something started to happen.

She felt more…. Energized. Her blood seemed to grow warm and a smile spread across her face. At  first she thought it was just all in her head, but then the warmth continued to blossom over her.

Her eyes went wide and she hummed softly feeling recharged from the sun like a battery.

She had her eyes closed and was just enjoying the radiation when she heard something ringing from the inside of the house followed by voices.

She was able to tear herself away from the warmth and stick her head inside.

“Adam, how are you doing.” Jim said and Eris could see Adam’s face projected on the TV.

She recognized a bit of herself in him. She had his nose, and his eyes shape.

“You are not going to believe who just called me.”

Martha smiled as she walked over to sit next to her husband, “Adam I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the president herself.”

Adam frowned some of the wind momentarily taken out of his sales, “Ok, yes it was the president, but.” e lit up almost immediately, “But you are not going to believe what she asked me to do.” He didn’t wait for them to guess, “She wants me to fly a recreated mission of the Apollo 11 moon landing. Historically accurate and everything!.” His grin was so wide it looked like he was going to split his face in half.

Martha’s eyes widened, “Really?”

Jim frowned, “That is great Adam, but…. Historically accurate?”

He nodded vigorously, “Yeah.”

“Son yu do realize the computer they used was less powerful than your mother’s automatic blow dryer.”

He waved a hand, “Yeah yeah, I know I know. Most of the math is probably going to be done by hand.”

Jim snorted and Martha grimaced, “Adam, sometimes I wish you had safer hobbies. I mean flying the omen is one thing, with those shields she could probably survive a meteor impact, but you understand the Apollo 11 mission flew in a rocket that  that parts no heavier duty than your average tin can.”

“yes , and that makes it even more awesome.”

“I think you are getting dangerous and awesome confused again, son.”

“Oh come on, this is like a dream come true for me. ‘

Finally Martha and Jim sighed and broke out into smiles, “There is no changing your mind as usual.”

Adam grinned, “Nope.”

He turned his head just then, seeming to look through the camera, his eyes falling on Eris. Shock spread across his face, “Eris, is that you?”

She smiled shyly and moved forward, “Yeah, It’s me.”

“What are you doing there, I thought you were working at the hybrid foundation taking care of Glados and the others.”

She shrugged guiltily, “I…. well glados and the others wanted to go back to the adapted planet, and after that others started getting adopted, but then I sort of burnt out and wanted to come here and meet…..” She paused not sure if she should say 

Martha put an arm around her, “She wanted to meet her grandparents and extended family.”

Adam looked surprised for a moment as if not having expected that before shrugging, “Just try to avoid mom’s side of the family if at all possible.”

“Adam.” Martha scolded, though she wasn’t actually mad.

He grinned, “I’ll be home in a few days.” he looked at eris, “Maybe I can show you around town when I get back….. If that’s something you’d be interested in?”

Eris shuffled her feet and quietly looked down, “Yeah,i’d like that.”

She wished she could read his thoughts in that moment. Was he only offering to be polite? She knew better than anyone that her birth had not been his fault. He had had his DNA stolen to  make her, but still she couldn’t help but feel an affinity towards him. One that she knew wasn’t fiar for her to feel.

He hadn’t chosen for her to be born after all.

Not like other people 

Did he just feel guilty?

Was she unwanted?

[lucas-grey]

I always wanted to write a FanFiction about little 6 and 47 and their time in the Institute, so here it is! I would also be very happy if you would left some Kudos for it on my AO3 ❤️

TW: Torture, Child abuse, Drowning, Death

Brasov, Romania

The Institute for Human Betterment was located far away from any civilisation in the mountainous forests. It was an old building, a mansion trumped by a box-shaped extension, the only part that suggested it was more than just a simple institution.

Because the Institute was situated in such a remote location, the human experiments that were carried out in this facility remained hidden from the public. With the cunning use of intimidation and money, it was easy to keep something a secret. Nobody outside the building knew anything about Doctor Otto Wolfgang Ort-Meyer's cloning program and the experiments he carried out on infants and children. Nobody suspected that in these deep, dark forests children were being tortured and that the main goal was to form them into perfect killers by any means necessary.

Everyday life in the Institute was tough and marked by violence and pain.The punishments for misconduct ranged from bashing to isolation and execution. The rules were strict and discipline was paramount.There was no place for feelings in the facility. The boys were trained to suppress emotions. They were taught that feelings equated with weakness. They had their guiding principles: Weakness is the enemy. Strength through discipline. Discipline through the mastery of one's feelings. But what Ort-Meyer and the brutal guards forgot was that they were still children who only suppressed their feelings for fear of punishment. Subject 6 knew the feeling of coming into the bedroom in the evening and being able to shake off this fear. That time when the boys got ready for bed, when they put on their pyjamas. It was like his whole body was relaxing. The feeling of tense muscles that were finally loosening. He used the short time when the bedroom door closed behind him to inhale and exhale several times and then suddenly let himself fall into his bed. This brief moment of lightness and peace of mind was the highlight of the day for him. But 6 knew that these instants were rare and could be broken at any time. It happened again and again that the boys were startled by the overseer in their sleep, to go on long marches through the forest in the middle of the night or to scramble through the muddy course behind the house when it was pouring raining. For this reason, these short times without this tension, without the knot in the chest that reminded the boys of their guiding principles, were so precious.

Far away from the guards' gaze, the boys used the time to exchange ideas. They sat together on their beds, telling creepy stories or watching porn magazines that they had stolen from the guards. It was important to be quiet. The children's laughter in those moments were barely audible, the boys had learned to hold their hands over their mouths so as not to be heard when they giggled at the sight of the naked women in the Playboy.

Subject 6 was an orphan. As an infant, he was left behind in the hospital by his mother immediately after his birth, where Ort-Meyer found him. He bought the baby and many more to do inhuman experiments on them. Ort-Meyer got the money and influence from an organisation called Providence, which commissioned the doctor to create the perfect killers. They should be more than just super soldiers, they should be quiet, the perfect silent assassins. Subject 6 remembered the many injections given to him. He remembered the feeling of serums flowing through his veins, the warmth rising inside of him and cramps that made all his muscles freeze and the pain so intense that he vomited. He was tied to a metal table and left alone with his pain. What remained was the feeling of fear. He thought he was going to die any moment; every fiber of his body was streaked with pain, as if he was being burned inside. He felt the sweat on his forehead and he could no longer suppress the screams. Tears were running down his face from the corners of his eyes. He sensed exactly how the serum flowed through his body, he felt how it found its way through his veins, like a burning river. He didn't know how long he laid there each time. Minutes? Hours? At some point the pain stopped and gave way to total exhaustion. 6 was breathing hard and looking into the bright light of the neon lamps. He no longer had the strength to scream or to fight the serum. It was like embracing the pain that plagued his body. He felt beads of sweat drip from his forehead and bare torso. The heat spread evenly as the serum made its way into every fiber of his body. He had to endure this procedure several times a week, always followed by tests to see whether the serum had the desired effect. He had to run for hours on a treadmill, lift weights and do intelligence tests. He knew he had acquired skills beyond those of a normal child.

In parallel to the attempt to make children stronger and more resilient with special serums, Ort-Meyer started a cloning program with the help of funds from Providence. He hoped to be able to create the perfect killer right from the start without having to send him through the painful procedure that 6 had to endure. Many of the first clones died early, they were disfigured and not viable. But with Subject 47, Ort-Meyer created a perfect clone, the perfect human. The perfect killer. Right from the start, 47 possessed all the skills that 6 and the other children had only acquired through the serums and hard training. 47 has been trained to use his skills to become the best assassin from the day he was created. Ort-Meyer watched him with hawk eyes. He had great expectations of 47, and the other children knew that 47 was in a different position from theirs. Although he had to do the same training as the others, Ort-Meyer watched him especially. He called him the most gifted of all his boys. Oftentimes, 47 had to show off his skills by fighting with other children. 6 watched him during these fights. He saw as the rest of the boys were left expressionless as they witnessed 47's dexterity in combat. He made it look effortless while the rest of them had to endure long hours of fighting techniques to be his worthy opponent. 47 appeared to 6 and the other children as cold and reserved, disinterested and unemotional. He never spoke to the others and always held back when there was a conflict.

It was 6 who at some point, when the boys were back in their chamber and getting ready for sleep, took the initiative and approached 47 as he was sitting on his bed and taking off his socks. "Hey 47," he said softly as 47 turned around and looked at him with his deep blue eyes. 6 felt the other children's gazes on his neck, they fell silent and there was a certain tension in the air, as if they were expecting 6 to be eaten alive by a bear. 47 didn't answer, so 6 stepped forward. He crossed his arms behind his back to show that he had no intention of harming him. "Today in the fight, that was impressive," said 6 with clear appreciation in his voice. 47 looked at him, then his gaze wandered to the other boys, who immediately averted their eyes for fear of angering him. Then he looked back to 6 and their eyes met. 6 tried to read something in his stare, a sign of gratitude for the compliment he had just received, or, which was more likely, a sign for annoyance. But he saw nothing. They were cold and unemotional. 6 regretted having said anything at all when 47 suddenly whispered a soft "thank you". At that moment 6 saw it, that brief glint in his eyes. It was barely noticeable, but 6 could see it. A small smile played around 6 lips. "Do you like card games?", he asked. 47 looked at him questioningly when 6 pulled out a couple of old cards from under his bed. "Some cards are missing, but you can still play Mau-Mau with them", said 6 as he shuffled them and was watched by 47. "I don't know that", 47 said shortly. 6 sat on the bed. "It's very easy." While 6 started explaining the rules, 47 slowly sat down next to him and listened attentively. The other boys watched in disbelief.

From that night on, 6 and 47 played Mau-Mau together on their bed everyday. The other boys did not dare to play along, on the contrary, from that evening on they met 6 with the same distance as 47, as if he had tamed a lion that he could let loose on the children at any moment with just one command. 6 didn't care. He enjoyed the friendship with 47 and the feeling of not being alone. When he went to sleep in the evening, he whispered to 47 a quiet "good night". 47 didn’t reply. Only his look at that moment told 6 that he was happy. For 6, his gaze was not cold and distant, but warm and grateful. It were just nuances, dilated pupils when 47 won Mau-Mau, a slight squint of his eyes when he lost, and that warm look he gave 6 when he wished him good night. Sometimes 6 even saw a slight hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth. For outsiders who didn't understand 47 as well as he did, it wasn’t more than a twitch, but 6 knew it was there. 6 realised that 47 was more than an emotionless clone and he was aware that he was the only one with the gift of knowing this.

One night, Subject 6 and the other boys were asleep in their beds. In the small room there was space for eight children in four bunk beds. The chamber was bare and uncomfortable, with nothing to suggest that children lived there. There were no toys, no painted pictures on the walls, no books. The metal beds were equipped with thin mattresses and blankets and only an old fireplace provided the warmth that was so badly needed that winter.

Suddenly, Subject 6 and the other children were woken up when their warden opened the door and loudly ordered the children to get up. None of the boys showed resistance. Nobody pulled the covers over their heads again or stretched, yawning. As if at the push of a button, they got out of their beds and stood in a row. 6 looked at Subject 47, who was facing him. Their eyes met. 6 knew that 47 felt the same uncertainty about what was to come as he did, even though one couldn't tell. But 6 could see it in his eyes. No one except 6 knew that 47 sometimes felt the same fear as the other children and it was important that it stayed that way. Ort-Meyer would be very disappointed to know that his favorite Subject was feeling exactly the same emotions as the others.

The boys stood next to their beds. They knew these situations. They were aware that they were being roused from their peaceful sleep because they had a task to do. They were only dressed in their blue pyjamas, they wore neither socks nor shoes. Despite the log fire, the arch was freezing and Subject 6 felt the cold slowly rise inside his body. He watched intently as the guard walked scrutinizing past the children and examined them. "We're going out", he bleated and left the room. The boys followed without saying a word. They all knew that talking or even contradicting would result in a blow with the rubber truncheon by the overseer.

They ran down the hall and down the great stairs. Subject 6 felt uncomfortable. It wasn't the first time the children had been awoken from their sleep in the middle of the night to do some kind of task. But what they ultimately had to do remained a secret until the very end. It was the element of surprise that the overseer used. It should prepare the boys to be able to improvise in any situation and to always perform at their best.

When the warden opened the large front door, the boys were hit by the icy cold outside. Without hesitation, they followed the overseer into the snow. When Subject 6 stepped into the snow with his bare feet, he was breathless for a moment. The cold shot through him with an uncomfortable pain, he felt his feet and then his limbs went stiff. "Don't stop", the guard shouted angrily when he noticed the boys' hesitation as they tried to ignore the freezing cold that seized their bodies. 6 folded his arms and rubbed his armpits with his hands to at least warm up a little. He felt his breathing accelerate automatically and how the cold found its way into his throat. The pain that pierced his body was almost unbearable. He tried to remember the feeling he had when he was lying in his bed. Although the mattresses were uncomfortable and the blankets were thin, the moment the bedroom door was closed was the one 6 liked the most. He knew that it could happen at any time that he would be torn from his dreams, which is why the thought of his bed, of the silence and the relaxation that he felt when he lay there and his mind could freely circulate, was so precious to him. He thought of the evenings with 47, which they spent sitting on the bed playing cards and the warmth of the fireplace that surrounded him when he closed his eyes and slowly slipped into lovely sleep when fear and pain were forgotten for a brief moment.

At that point he dared to look back briefly. Subject 47 was further behind him. He rubbed his armpits too. 6 could see how hard he was breathing, each of his breaths visible through a thick, misty waft. 47 looked at him and gave him a short nod to understand that he should look forward again. Subject 6 turned and continued to follow the guard in silence.

It wasn't long before the children reached a lake not far from the Institute. 6 couldn't tell what time it was, but it was probably very early in the morning as he could already see the sun rise on the horizon, its rays making their way through the trees and lighting up the frozen lake as if its surface was made of nacre.

The warden ordered the boys to line up. "Your task: you swim from one end to the other", he explained briefly. The task was clear, none of the boys asked a question or protested, even if everyone knew this task could be fatal. So it was with many tasks that the children had to do at the Institute. 6 had seen many children die. He knew that because of the way they were created, he and the other boys were different from other children, both mentally and physically. They were made to be faster, stronger, and more resilient. They were intelligent, could improvise even in stressful situations and they could adapt well to any circumstance. But they weren't invulnerable. Even small mistakes could cause a task to fail. Even so, it wasn't impossible for them to accomplish this order. Normal children would hardly survive this, they would probably die from the shock of the cold water, let alone be able to hold their breath long enough to swim to the other side. 6 knew that he and the other boys were physically capable of doing this. More important was whether they would be able to keep a clear head during the process. This exercise was not only a test of their physical abilities, but above all their mental ones. "Subject 4, you are the first", the warden shouted. He had a clipboard and a stopwatch in his hand. One of the boys stepped forward. He took off his pyjamas until he was standing in the snow in his underpants. Subject 6 saw him shiver. His skin looked pale and bluish, and his feet were red from the cold snow. Subject 4 carefully stepped onto the ice surface, which crunched under his weight. He went on to a hole in the ice. 6 looked at the hole and his gaze wandered to the end of the lake, where he could make out another one in the distance that was straight ahead to the other.

Subject 4 slowly slid into the hole before taking a deep, perceptible breath and then submerged. The guard pressed the stopwatch. What followed was an uncomfortable silence. While the warden only looked at the ticking watch, the boys looked at the surface. Subject 6 held his breath. He wondered how long it would take Subject 4 to swim to the other side while watching the shadow of 4's silhouette beneath the ice sheet. He felt the tension when he noticed that he could no longer hold his breath and he knew that there were only seconds left for Subject 4 to get to the other side. 6 breathed out silently when couldn’t hold his breath anymore, when he suddenly heard a knock. The guard looked at the surface. It was first a short knock, then another, then it became more. They all heard the despair; they all knew what was happening. When the knocking fell silent, the guard stopped the clock, took the pen from the clipboard and with one movement he crossed out something on a piece of paper.

"Subject 6, you're next", he snapped. 6 breathed in and out deeply as he took off his pyjamas. He had the feeling that he no longer sensed the cold. The pain had given way to a strange numbness and what remained was the impression of many small needle pricks that hit his skin. When he was standing there only in his underpants and walking in the direction of the ice surface, he noticed the warden looking at him. He wanted to turn around and look at 47 but he didn't dare to. When 6 reached the small hole in the ice, he first slid his feet into it. The pain that rose through him almost made him scream, but he stifled the scream and clenched his teeth in agony. He let himself slide further into the icy water, then took a deep breath and dived below the surface.

The water was pitch black. Only a few of the distant sun rays penetrated the thick surface and served 6 as a subtle but much necessary orientation. Without hesitation, he started swimming. He stayed just below the surface and tried to the best of his capacity to swim straight ahead. He tried to remember the hole on the other side of the lake and he orientated himself by the sun rays that he hoped would shine through the other hole. As he swam as fast as he could, he was suddenly distracted by something he saw to his right. He dared a quick look to the side and looked into the wide-open eyes of Subject 4 floating motionlessly below the surface. Subject 6 was petrified. He felt a vibrating heat flooding his body. Immediately he removed his gaze from his late mate and refocused in front, yet in the corner of his eyes the boy’s stiff body still floated and his dead stare remained stubborn in his mind like a reminder. He had to make it to the exit hole because he knew he only had seconds before he couldn't breathe anymore, and his body would give up due to the cold.

Subject 6 swam as fast as he could when he saw the redeeming sun rays shining through the other hole. When he emerged, he took a deep breath. Although the cold continued to hurt and his heart pounded as hard as if it were about to beat out of his chest. He climbed out of the hole and as he stood on the slippery surface he felt life coming back to his body. He took some deep breaths to feel the fresh air in his lungs again. His stiff limbs ached, so he moved them a bit. He shook his arms and legs to get rid of the ice cold water that surrounded his body. He was clearing himself from the fear and pressure he had just felt and allowed the relief of having survived the task. Without lingering, he ran back to the others.

He got no praise from the guard, no applause from the other children. Another boy has already been asked by the guard to do the job. Subject 6 took his ice-cold pyjamas out of the snow and pulled them over his wet body. He saw his reddish blue skin, he saw how he was trembling and he could no longer suppress the fact that his teeth chattered softly and his lips trembled. Only now did he realise that Subject 47 was no longer there. The panic of the air slowly lacking in his lungs, his heart racing and shrinking due to the icy water was nothing compared to the shock of that moment as he realised that the blurry silhouette swimming under the ice was 47. The image of the lifeless eyes of Subject 4 floating stiff in the water came back as his stomach twisted violently in visceral dread for his friend. To his convenience, his trembling limbs and shattering teeth seemed to the rest of the boys and the warden as the natural response to the freezing low temperature. The truth was, the fear for 47’s life had taken over his whole self in uncontrollable nerves. He realized that the trembling of his body was no longer just from the cold, but also from the fear he was feeling.

The ticking of the stopwatch was the only thing that broke the silence. Those were painful seconds for subject 6. Tormenting because of the uncertainty whether 47 would make it, agonising because he was not allowed to say that he was afraid, that he would have to suppress any feeling. At the corner of his eyes he noticed as the warden threw a look at him and in the blink of an eye, he studied him. Emotions weren’t allowed, as neither were words of encouragement or congratulation. Emotions were equated with weakness. Weakness is the enemy. Strength through discipline. Discipline through the mastery of one's feelings. With one eye 6 followed 47 swimming under the ice while with the other, he made sure the warden didn't notice the sheer level of dread that had taken over his slender body. He felt his heart ache. His gaze was fixed on the other hole at the end of the lake. Tick ​​tock tick tock tick tock. Subject 6 gritted his teeth. He had the feeling that he could hardly stop the tension. The agitation that surrounded his body hurt even more than those few seconds swimming under the ice cold water. His hands clenched into fists and trembled from the pressure. Suddenly he heard a gush of water come from the other hole and the bald head of Subject 47 emerged. When 6 saw him climb out of the hole, he immediately let go of the convulsion. Life returned to himself like a warm breeze and embraced his body. The pressure left his body as if he were shedding ballast. The knot in his chest that had cut off his breath came loose when he saw 47 climb out of the hole unharmed. 6 suppressed the imminent smile that wanted to draw in his lips. He didn't care that he was cold, he didn't care about the pain. It just mattered to him to know that Subject 47 had made it.

When the task was finished, the sun had already risen. Six boys followed the guard back into the large building, where they were allowed to take a warm shower and change into fresh clothes. When Subject 6 got dressed, he went to 47, who quietly put on his clothes. “Are you okay?” 6 asked quietly. 47 looked at him and nodded. 6 was unsure whether 47 was well, when he suddenly saw a small, barely perceptible smile flicker in the corner of his mouth. That's when 6 knew he was okay.

Special thanks goes out to @sillyliterature Thank you for giving me helpful tips and for helping me to improve myself as a writer! Thank you for taking your time reading my stories, I really appreciate ❤️

[olivemac]

heartbeat | chapter two | b.b.

Summary | When Steve Rogers asks Kate Stark to find the Winter Soldier, she gets too involved.

Notes | Captain America: Civil War re-write, essentially. Starts just after the events of CA: Winter Soldier.

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc, Bucky Barnes x Stark!oc

Genre | romance

Rating | explicit

Story Warnings | angst, fluff, romance tropes, so many romance tropes, coarse language, alcohol use, canon-typical violence , smut (m/f), oral sex (f&m receiving), 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings | coarse language

master list | AO3 link

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Kate is on the next commercial flight to Bucharest. She's worried Bucky will move on before she can get to him, but she knows Tony would never approve of the use of one of his jets to chase down an ex-assassin in hiding. The less he knows, the better. Which is why she told him she was escaping to Europe for a long respite after feeling oh so overwhelmed with her work at Stark Industries.

Tony barely bats an eye when she told him. There were some advantages to being Tony Starks' baby sister. The first being he feels guilty about his ineptness at raising her after their parents' death and would literally let her get away with murder. The second is an almost unlimited bank account left to her by her father and supplemented by Tony's previously mentioned guilt.

Kate Stark was her mother’s mid-life crisis. Maria, three decades younger than her husband, had – at forty-two years old – decided she wanted another baby. Tony, who was eighteen at the time, had balked at the idea. But Howard relented and called in the best team of fertility doctors money could buy, and Kate was born.

She doesn't remember her parents, not really. She was only three when they died, and she doesn't remember that event either. Though she was there, in the car, when it crashed on Long Island.

Tony's only ever spoken to her about it once, after she accused him of hating her for surviving when their parents died. Really, he hated that he survived.

When rescue workers arrived at the scene of the wreck, they found her parents dead in the front seat and her tucked safely into her car seat in the back, bundled up against the December cold. She was an orphan, and Tony, at twenty-one, was suddenly responsible for a toddler.

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He hired a series of nannies to raise her, then sent her off to boarding school as soon as she was old enough, all the while playing genius, billionaire playboy.

He wasn’t surprised when it turned out she was just as smart as him or their father. And it surprised him less when she followed in his footsteps and attended MIT. What did surprise him was when she started hacking government databases for fun. She only agreed to work for him at Stark Industries in exchange for him not sticking Rhodey on her after she released documents regarding the US Air Force‘s involvement in some less that savory overseas dealings.

On the plane, she starts an email to Steve telling him where she was headed and what she had found. Then she deletes it and starts over. Then deletes that. She chews her thumbnail and thinks. If she tells Steve where Bucky is, he'll come blazing in, shield at the ready, and Bucky will.... She doesn’t know what Bucky will do, but she has a feeling the encounter would end with a fight and Bucky running. Which will kill Steve. Again. So, she decides she doesn't need to tell Steve – not right away. She'll see if she can figure out what Bucky remembers – if anything – before telling Steve where he is.

_____

A little over forty-eight hours after her software found Bucky, Kate is assembling IKEA furniture in her new studio apartment in Romania. Getting the landlord to lease her the empty flat next to Bucky's was easy enough when Kate offered him double what he was asking in rent. He was discreet enough to not ask any questions. Most of the people in the building were hiding from something so a young American woman who paid cash upfront wasn't the most unusual thing he'd dealt with.

She makes her bed, unpacks her suitcase, and re-reads the Winter Soldier file. That night she dreams of her parents and the wreck that killed them. In the dream there's always a man outside of the car, but she can never see his face. Her father begs for help: "Help my wife, my daughter. Please. Help."

She wakes up sweating, a scream caught in her throat.

_____

The apartment next to his is no longer empty. Bucky can hear music and soft footsteps through the paper-thin walls. If he focuses his hearing, he can hear a heartbeat other than his own, but he's working to turn off the super soldier reflexes, so he tries to ignore it. He's enjoyed the silence that the empty apartment afforded him, and he hopes the new tenant isn’t as nosy as his neighbor in Kiev who had asked so many questions. He hadn't stayed long after that meeting.

Around two in the morning, he wakes to the sound of a strangled cry from his new neighbor. Bucky sits up straight, suddenly on alert. He listens closely, focusing for the sounds of a struggle, but he only hears the unfamiliar heartbeat. His neighbor was having a nightmare, he imagines. He had plenty of those himself.

Sometimes he was staring down the barrel of a gun, his only intent to kill. Other nightmares took him back to the HYDRA base and their machine that scrambled his thoughts over and over again. And others found him falling from a train, the blonde man from the Triskelion reaching out toward him. He always wakes up just before he hits the icy river he knows awaits him.

Bucky knows now that the blonde man is Steve Rogers. Without HYDRA's influence, he's started to remember more: flashes of Steve and a group called the Howling Commandos during the war, but also flashes of Steve before the war, smaller, shorter. And flashes of a family – his family – a father, a mother, a sister. Rebecca. The name comes to him one afternoon while he's browsing the used bookstore near his flat.

He's started eating plums and jogging to improve his memory. He isn't sure if it's helping, but the memories are becoming longer and more frequent. He sees himself with Steve at Coney Island, riding the Cyclone until Steve lost his lunch and Bucky laughed so hard tears were streaming down his face, and he sees himself flirting with an auburn-haired combat nurse in Italy, following her back to her tent and undressing her slowly.

He wakes the next morning feeling restless. He had slept in fits and starts, listening for any more disturbances from next door. None came.

He dresses and goes for a run, and when he returns, he catches his first glimpse of his new neighbor. She's coming out of her apartment, her face turned downward toward her phone. When he reaches the top of the stairs, she lifts her head and smiles. Bucky is struck by how pretty she is, a thought he hasn't let himself have since leaving HYDRA. He turns away quickly and slams the door to his own apartment. He doesn't need pink lips and dark curls reminding him of what he can never have again. He's too broken for her, or anyone else for that matter.

_____

Bucky has seen his new neighbor more times in five days than he's seen anyone else in the building over the past two months. They always seem to be coming or going at the same time.

The first time he actually speaks to her, she's dropping groceries up the stairs from a rip in her canvas bag.

"Fuck," she mutters as an apple rolls beneath the railing and falls to the landing below.

Bucky has a brief vision of her uttering that same word while his head is buried between her legs, but he shakes if off quickly.

"Let me," he says in English, scooping up some rogue potatoes and taking the bag from her.

"Thanks," she says before unlocking her door and holding it open for him.

Her apartment is the same layout as his – one room, with a tiny bathroom at the front and a small kitchen along the back wall. He sets the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter and steps back.

"I should—"

"Thank you—"

They both speak at the same time. Bucky bows his head and motions for her to continue.

"Thank you for your help." She pauses. "And it's nice to speak English for a change. My Romanian is atrocious," she laughs. "How’d you guess?"

"All the music you listen to is in English," he replies brusquely.

She cringes. "Sorry. I'll turn it down."

"No," he says, "It's fine. Really."

There's an awkward pause as they both stare at each other.

Bucky breaks the silence first. "I should go."

"Right." She leads him to the door. "Thanks."

Bucky nods.

When his own apartment door closes behind him, he sighs and scrubs his right hand over his face. He needs to avoid her. He doesn't need anything to distract him from regaining his memories, and he certainly doesn't need to get close to someone he'll inevitably hurt. He doesn’t even begin let himself entertain the thought that she could be a HYDRA agent waiting to turn him in.

_____

Later that evening, he's startled by a knock at his door. When he peers into the hallway, there's a plate of food on the floor, covered with a cloth and a note. He picks it up.

Thanks for saving my groceries.

- Kate

Bucky considers the possibilities that she is a HYDRA agent and the food is poisoned, but he decides it's unlikely HYDRA would take that approach. If anything, they would want their soldier back, and if they didn't, they wouldn't kill him quickly. Also, he can't remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal – definitely before the war – and he’s starving. Protein bars aren’t really cutting it anymore.

He studies the note as he eats. He runs his fingers over the name written in curling handwriting: Kate, and debates what his next move should be. He needs to ignore her – for her own safety – but his mother raised a gentleman so he should at least thank her for dinner, right?

_____

Kate nearly steps on the plate when she leaves her flat the next morning for a run. It’s sitting right at her doorway, clean, the dish towel she had with it folded with a note peeking out.

Kate,

You’re welcome. Thank you for dinner.

- Bucky

If she knew how long Bucky had agonized over whether to write back, she probably would have cried. Kate definitely would have cried if she knew he had debated whether or not to sign the note “Bucky” or “James.” He’s been using James at any off-the-books odd jobs he can get, but with his memories returning, he’s been feeling more like the Bucky Steve referred to in DC.

_____

Kate makes a potato soup that night and leaves it outside his door sans note. She brings him dinner for a week straight before she asks him to dine with her.

"Come over,” she says the next time they pass in the hall.

"What?" Bucky freezes.

"Come over tonight,” Kate repeats, “for dinner.”

"Why?" He sounds rude. He should really work on that, but she’s caught him in one of his broodier moods after another sleepless night.

"Why not?” she shrugs. “I have wine."

He’s staring at her. He realizes he needs to stop staring at her and answer.

“Okay.”

“Seven thirty?” she suggests.

"Okay," he replies.

"Okay," she laughs.

For a second, Bucky wonders if she's laughing at him, but there's a softness in her eyes that makes him think not. Talking to women used to be easy, he thinks. It took him hours to come up with the simplest response to her note the other night, and now he can't even form a sentence in front of her. He spends the rest of the day worrying he's made a huge mistake in accepting her invitation.

He's not the only one. Kate has half a mind to call it all off, phone Steve, and get on the next plane back to New York. What if he doesn't remember anything? What if he's still the Winter Soldier? She has a brief vision of Bucky snapping and wrapping that metal hand he's been hiding around her throat – and not in a fun way. But when he knocks on her door at seven thirty, she thinks she might actually die from how sweet he looks.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi," he responds, running his tongue over his lips nervously.

They're caught in another awkward moment of just staring at each other when she finally invites him.

The old Bucky would have bought flowers and then made some quip about how the flowers aren't nearly as beautiful as she is, but this Bucky – post-HYDRA Bucky – feels like he's forgotten how to interact with women at all and his tongue has suddenly turned to lead.

Kate's debated how much to reveal about herself. Finally, she decides she'll tell him everything. Well, mostly everything. He doesn't need to know that she's a Stark or friends with Steve Rogers or here on some crazy rescue mission to save the Winter Soldier because maybe, just maybe, she read his file one too many times and got caught up in the look in Steve's eyes when he talked about Bucky. No, he doesn't need to know that.

Kate's also considered how much to ask him about himself. She wants to know what – if anything – he remembers, but she also doesn't want to give herself away by revealing she knows who he really is. And she doubts he’ll tell her outright. The fact that he signed the note Bucky seems like a good indication that his memories are returning, though.

"How long have you been in Bucharest, Bucky?" she asks, plating their dinner.

"Almost two months," he says.

"Here for work?" she asks casually.

"Uh...it's complicated," he says, scratching at the back of his neck. "You?"

She looks up at him. "It's complicated."

They're staring at each other again, and Bucky has to force himself to look away.

"Family?" she asks.

"Also complicated," he says. God, he thinks, he sounds like a jackass. But it's not like he can tell her he's a ninety-eight-year-old ex-assassin in hiding so his family is probably long dead.

She motions for him to sit at her small kitchen table and sets a plate in front of him.

"You're not hiding a wedding ring under those gloves, are you?" she asks, a smirk on her lips. She knows about his arm; she just wants to see what he’ll give away.

He blushes and looks at his hands. Then he realizes he's taking too long to answer, and she probably thinks he's an idiot. "No... uh...no. No," he finally says without elaborating.

Kate can sense he's nervous so she does what Tony would do in a situation like this and just keeps talking. She tells him about Tony – minus the Stark detail. She talks about MIT and New York and the last book she read. He listens closely, laughing softly when she makes jokes and asking questions where appropriate. He likes the way her lips look when they form his name and the way her eyes light up at her own humor.

When they finish eating, Bucky helps her wash dishes. She considers asking him to stay, watch a movie or something, but then she thinks maybe she should take this slowly, not overwhelm him, so she bids him goodnight and closes the door behind him.

Bucky thinks Kate might be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Then he thinks that might be because she’s the first woman he’s interacted with in so long. Either way, he tries not to think of her that night when his body remembers what it's like to be a man.

He decides that staying away from her would be too hard.

On the other side of the wall, she’s thinking of him, too. She hadn't expected his eyes to be so impossibly blue. She had stared at the black and white military photo for hours, but seeing him in person, she was caught in the Arctic waters that made up his eyes.

_____

next chapter

[handern]

Devy this is a weird question but you're my only mutual I know who speaks French. Do you have any recommendations for french language children's books? Especially geared at like 6-10 year old readers? I'm trying to practice my language skills, but my french isn't quite good enough yet to read the book reviews. There's "adult readers", but they have a startling lack of anything at all fun in them. I want dragons and spaceships and shit, not sad people buying groceries

Oh I'm going to pull out my list of french writers books I read when I was 7/10 but I'm not sure if it's really what you're searching for?

Even when they're aimed at kids french books by french authors can have a lot of very pedantic words no one uses on a daily basis

Also keep in mind that most popular books written in english out there have probably been translated into french at some point !

Erik L'Homme :

- Le Maître des Brisants (just read book 1 and 2, the 3rd one was a mistake sorry mister Erik sir) : Steampunkish scifi, I don't remember the whole plot but it was pretty epic and I think it was about a boy coming on a spaceship for an internship? Now I need to re read it

- Le Livre des Etoiles : a young boy training to become a mage in a world that was part of ours and is still linked to ours but through a very small gate. It has celtic themes and epic fights but in a more modern way than most fantasy books

- Phaenomen : four kids in a "hospital for children with special needs" realize they have some powers while they go searching for their favorite doctor who vanished one day without a word. Kind of a modern take on changeling kids, smh it gave me a coping mechanism for ADHD and sensory overload that I still use haha

Pierre Bottero : all his series are linked somehow so here's the publication order, which is not the chronological order

- Ewilan series : a girl finds out she has the power to cross from our world to another one, and also that she's the most powerful magic user born in that world. She goes in search of her biological parents trapped somewhere in that world along with a very eclectic band of weird people. It was some of my favorite books ever.

- L'Autre : set in our world, it follows two heirs of some 7 or so families of people who can use magic, they have to learn to control their powers and I also forgot the main plot but hey the girl can turn into a panther and at some point she murders someone which was very cool of her

- Elana : following my childhood hero, Elana from the Ewilan series. It starts with her as a toddler being raised in the jungle after her parents' death (the best book) then it follows her growing up and being trained as a Marchombre (less interesting but still good) which is a thing that would take too long to explain like, they could be assassins but they're not and they could be thieves but they are not but also they're both assassins and thieves for most of them except they're not, they follow a goal way more important than just assassinations and thievery, of spiritual and physical perfection. I started practicing climbing bc of these books.

Erik L'Homme and Pierre Bottero :

- A comme Association : monsters hunting monsters (4 first books are by both of them, the rest is Erik L'Homme alone). It's pretty fun but I didn't get the end at all. But it's pretty fun yes and makes me very emotionnal bc Pierre Bottero was my favorite author and he died right after the 4th book's completion. The characters are really cool and very fun, and of course there's some monsters befriending

Serge Brussolo : each of his series has like 10000 books, I have no idea how this man writes so much but I'm pretty sure his writing rate should be illegal somehow

- the Peggy Sue series : my grandpa gave me the second book instead of the first by accident and thank goodness he did because the first book absolutely TERRIFIED ME, the rest is really kids books but the first one is horror. It tells the story of a girl who can see ghosts and they make her life miserable for it like, literally try to murder her and her family. She ends up travelling through weird places/worlds, it's pretty cool but jesus christ the first book. Warning for graphic murders, mind control and cannibalism in the first book. Some kids get almost boiled alive to be eaten in the second book but you know what? That's tame compared to the impression the first book left on me! There are sheep who eat people in the 5th book also if I recall correctly

- the Sigrid series : A girl born and raised in a weird submarine realizes that something is wrong and weird, ends up travelling through very eerie worlds where she has to learn the rules very fast to survive, it's also kind of horror-like, but less horrifying than the first Peggy Sue book. There are some spaceships, submarines, ghost boats and a lot more

Fabrice Colin : this man is a genius but also sometimes a dirty little copycat man I love him so much. He wrote a lot and not all of his books are equal in quality but when it's good it's really excellent

- Les Enfants de la Lune : set during WWII, a child who lives with his grandmother finds a letter adressed to his grandfather who died 10 years ago, he goes to the meeting to announce it to the people who wrote the letter and ends up meeting the last elves trying to leave our world before the last portal closes. It's very bittersweet and has absolutely amazing characters including a crocodile who probably ate a nazi at some point, evil pterodactyles and a mechanical kraken in the Seine. I spent 10 years hunting for a copy of this book, I would borrow it ten times a year at the local library

Eric Sanvoisin : I was absolutely obsessed w the atmosphere of his books. Horror but not scary? Kind of intriguing and creepy but in a very cosy and familiar way?

- Les buveurs d'encre : vampires but they drink books ink

- Les chasseurs d'Ombres (type in the author's name or you'll just get the Moral Instruments in the results) honestly it's been so long I don't remember much except that I harassed my parents until they bought me the book after I read it at the library. I think it has vampire-y vibes too with investigations

I also read every single book of the "Autre Mondes" collection by the Mango editor, which has really cool scifi books but there are so many it would make this list way too long so I'll just recommend "Les Abimes d'Outremer" which is about space whales being spaceships, but this collection is a goldmine if you want well wrapped together short-ish novels

[inkslingersworld]

Zusammen: Part I

The setting sun illuminated the city of Paris with a warm orange glow, and although the rest of Adrien’s friends had gone home already, Kagami had made the proposition that the two of them should take a walk along the Seine before night fell. Adrien felt inclined to agree, seeing as he had canceled several of their previous dates for superhero reasons, and even though he’d since told Kagami of his identity as Chat Noir and she’d acted as though the date cancellations didn’t bother her, Adrien could see beneath the happy facial expression she put on to find the disappointment. 

It was only fair to partially make it up to Kagami by taking a walk with her - besides, the weather was fantastic. There weren’t many people out. They’d stopped by a little cafe they enjoyed going to and purchased coffees for themselves. The atmosphere was near-perfect.

Kagami didn’t say anything until they approached the Eiffel Tower.

“Adrien?”

He turned his head towards hers. “Yeah?”

She opened her mouth, but then closed it again. “Never mind.”

“What is it?” Adrien asked.

“I don’t want to intrude upon your privacy,” said Kagami flatly.

“Kagami, anything you want to ask me, I’ll tell you the answer.”

Kagami stared into his eyes and sighed. “What happened to your mother?”

This was not what Adrien had expected. It was now his turn to sigh.

“I wish I could tell you,” he said, “but the truth is, I don’t know myself.”

“She just disappeared?” asked Kagami. 

Adrien sighed again. “Not exactly.”

He stopped walking. Kagami stopped as well, gazing at him with a concerned expression. Adrien looked back gravely.

“What I’m about to tell you, I haven’t told anyone,” he said solemnly. “Not Nino, not Marinette, not any of my friends. I’m not ready for them to know yet, so you don’t repeat this to anyone, okay?”

Kagami nodded. Adrien sighed a third time.

“I was at a photoshoot with Nathalie. Father said he couldn’t make it, said he had some important business to attend to. After we’d wrapped up, we returned to see police cars outside my house. Someone had tried to assassinate my father.”

Kagami let out a small gasp. 

“He was fine,” Adrien continued, starting to walk again, with Kagami joining him. “He’d knocked out the would-be assassinator and took his gun, tied him up so he couldn’t escape.”

“Who was it?” Kagami asked fearfully.

“A mentally disturbed fan of his,” said Adrien. “I never did learn his name, but Father had apparently had experience with him in the past. The fan started getting paranoid, said my father was stealing his designs. Anyways, according to my father, the fan opened fire on the house. Father told Mother to run, and so she ran.”

After ten seconds of silence, Kagami said, “That’s all you ever found out?”

Adrien nodded. “She never came home.”

A few more seconds passed.

“I’m so sorry,” said Kagami. “I really am. Nobody ever found out about the assassination attempt?”

“Nope,” said Adrien, sniffing. “It was gonna be on the news, but Father made a few deals to keep it from going public. Said that someone trying to shoot him was bad publicity. All anybody ever found out was that my mother had vanished off the face of the Earth.”

“Did you ever, like, hate the shooter?” Kagami asked softly.

“Strangely enough, no,” said Adrien contemplatively. “I felt sorry for him, actually. I mean, yeah, I did kinda loath him, cause he was indirectly responsible for my mother’s disappearance, but you should’ve seen the guy. Most pitiful person I’ve ever seen. At his criminal trial, he actually asked to be put on death row.”

“He what?”

“I know, right?” Adrien said. “In the end, he received a fifteen year prison sentence.”

They walked in silence for a while, letting Adrien’s tale soak in. After a couple minutes, Kagami spoke.

“Would you like to hear about my father?”

“Sorry?”

“My father,” repeated Kagami. “You told me about your mom, so I should tell you about my dad.”

Adrien had a bad feeling that the story of Kagami’s father would be a sad one indeed, but got the impression that Kagami wanted to tell him. So, he voiced that.

“Do you want to tell me?”

Kagami took a deep breath. “It might be nice to get it off of my chest, but I wouldn’t want to burden you with the story if you’re not willing.”

“I wouldn’t be burdened,” said Adrien quickly. “In fact, I was curious as to why I’ve only seen your mother.”

“I used to live with my father,” Kagami said sorrowfully. “He was a painter. When I was four years old, he took me to an art museum in Sapporo, which was where we lived in Japan. I remember my feelings of awe at the sight of such beautiful artwork, and I asked him whether we could go there every day. We did not end up going there daily, but the two of us would head there every Tuesday, because they’d have a guest speaker there on that day of the week.”

They were crossing the Pont Marie now. The sun was only a half-circle in the distance.

“When I was nine,” Kagami went on, “he experienced his first psychotic break. He was convinced that he was on a boat that was sinking, and he was admitted to a psychiatric institution the following day. The doctors told my mother that my father possessed a previously unknown psychological disorder, and that he may need to stay at the institution permanently.”

“Is he still there?” Adrien asked worriedly.

Kagami shook her head. “No, um, he stayed at the institution for another five years. My mother and I visited him regularly. Most of the time, he didn’t recognize us and mistook us for someone else. Sometimes he didn’t see us at all. His last night at the institution, he recognized me. He let me ride piggyback on his shoulders, like he used to. While we were walking, he said to me, ‘Gami, look at those sculptures! Aren’t they exquisite?’”

Kagami let out a shaky breath. “There were no sculptures.”

“Then what happened?” asked Adrien.

A single tear slid down Kagami’s cheek. “Our visit ended, we went home, and the next morning, he hung himself with his own clothes.”

“Oh my god,” Adrien said, horrified. “I’m so sorry.”

Kagami wiped her face. “The last words he said to me were, ‘Tomorrow’s Tuesday. I hear they’re going to have a very prolific photographer at the museum. Won’t that be fun?’”

More tears spilled out of Kagami’s eyes, and she hugged Adrien at the same time he hugged her. They stood there for what felt like days.

When they finally parted, Adrien asked, “Is that why you moved to Paris?”

Kagami nodded.

“How did you survive something like that?”

Kagami gave him a watery smile. “I met you.”

Adrien could almost hear his heart go ping. He smiled back and placed his lips on hers.

“I’m never going to leave you,” he whispered into her mouth.

It was nighttime now. The stars were unusually bright in the sky as Adrien and Kagami made their way through the streets of Paris. They were nearing the Louvre when Kagami pointed to their right.

“Look!” 

Adrien turned. She was pointing at the Pont des Arts.

“Do you want to go that way?” he asked her.

Kagami nodded. 

As they crossed the bridge, Kagami said, “Did you know couples used to attach padlocks with their initials carved into them on this bridge?”

“That does sound familiar, yeah,” said Adrien. “Wouldn’t they throw the key into the Seine?”

“Yep,” said Kagami. “Too bad all those locks posed a safety hazard due to extra weight on the bridge and the city prevented other people from doing it. Otherwise, I would’ve brought one with me.”

Adrien stopped walking. “Hang on.”

Without warning, he trotted off in the opposite direction.

“Adrien?” called Kagami. “What are you doing?”

“Just hang on a sec!” Adrien called back.

Kagami saw a flash of green light. Another flash came about five seconds later, and she saw Adrien come running back.

“What was that?” Kagami asked.

Adrien only smiled. “I’ll tell you in the morning. It’s late now. Let’s go home.”

===========

Long after Adrien and Kagami had returned to their respective dwellings, just as the sun was preparing to rise after a good night’s sleep, a woman decided to walk across the Pont des Arts. She was used to getting up early in the morning and enjoyed picking up any litter night owls had left behind. However, when she got to the bridge, she didn’t see any litter. She saw something quite different.

Someone had carved something into the bridge’s wood. The letters weren’t particularly large, but passersby would have a hard time not seeing them.

A+K.

The woman frowned. She wondered who those two were.

An Adrigami piece for the end of monday. Hope you enjoyed it! (For those who don’t know, “zusammen” is German for “together”.

Hi again! I’ve decided to build on this for my own AU! 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH12

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 12: Resurrection Overture (XII) {cw: brief suicide mention}

After this day's hellish diving training, Qi Leren, who was as heavy as lead, had no strength to climb aboard. He was floating on his back beneath the boat like a miserable little mermaid under the gaze of Chen Baiqi's disdain. Finally, Chen Baiqi dragged him back onto the boat.

On the way back, Qi Leren slept as if dead. When he was woken up by the coastal evening wind, Qi Leren suddenly sat up and the coat that had been covering him slipped down. It was Chen Baiqi’s.　

"What time is it?" Qi Leren asked in a hoarse voice. He remembered that it was about five o'clock when he’d come back, but after entering the border of Dusk where it was sunset all day, it was difficult to tell the time.　

"It's seven o'clock," Chen Baiqi said without looking back as she kneeled on the bow against the wind. "You can hurry home after you wake up, but don't expect me to carry you back."　

Qi Leren responded. After a short sleep, his spirit was much better and he could walk.　

The two people got off the boat together. Chen Baiqi put her hands in her pockets with a cigarette in her mouth and looked at the distant sunset with empty eyes, her expression unreadable.　

"Thank you," Qi Leren suddenly said.　

"Hmm?" Chen Baiqi was puzzled.　

When he first woke up, Qi Leren was slow to respond, but now he had recovered. How could it take two hours to sail from Undead Island to Sunset Island’s port? The ship had already landed, but Chen Baiqi hadn't woken him up after seeing that he was tired enough to sleep. She’d smoked on bow for two hours, waiting for him to wake up. In this world where time was life, she had expended two hours for a person who wasn’t even a formal disciple… No, it took far more time than two hours. This kindness was tantamount to a life-saving grace.　

"Nothing, just wanted to thank you." Qi Leren said sincerely, "For many things... I should thank you."　

The two of them having arrived at an intersection, Chen Baiqi was going back to her store to have dinner with her sister, and Qi Leren was going back to Dr. Lu where he was still spending the night.　

Chen Baiqi stopped and stamped out the cigarette butt: "It's no use thanking me. Come and show me your potential."　

"I’ll work hard."　

"I’ll watch it, too," Chen Baiqi said, then turned and left, waving goodbye at him over her back.　

Qi Leren stood in silence for a moment, looking at Chen Baiqi’s back. She really was a woman with many stories and many worries, but she refused to sell her own stories and was reluctant to share her past. She was tightly wrapped in secrets, and no one knew her age. Even the name Chen Baiqi didn’t seem to be her real name.　　

What had she done in the real world? What kind of experiences had she had in the Nightmare World? Why did she want to adopt a player's child and love her as a sister? How was her half-field broken? Qi Leren didn’t know any of this. His understanding of Chen Baiqi was limited to the words she had revealed—she had once worked in the Heresy Court of the Trials Court, was an assassin who mainly focused on intelligence and assassination, and had a summoning book that sealed many strange creatures, which were accumulated when she traveled in the Nightmare World.　　

He wondered if he could be as strong as Chen Baiqi once he had spent eight years in the Nightmare World. He should be able to, at least, as long as his luck didn’t stop him from reaching his eighth year. Qi Leren gave a wry smile in his heart, got rid of the idea, and set foot on his way home.　　

When he returned to Dr. Lu's clinic, Dr. Lu was treating a familiar young man and nagged, "Jumped from the third floor? I see you’re young, why do you want to die like this? Do you think you’re a superhero? Doesn’t it hurt to jump from the third floor in one breath? Sometimes people jump off buildings. If you can stop it, stop it. Otherwise, forget it. What kind of hero is that? Hey, you’re back? I'm starving for dinner right now."　　

The young man who was being treated by "Doctor’s Orders" also turned his head and leapt up from his chair in surprise: "Qianbei! Long time no see! How have you been recently? I thought about it, and the house should be returned to you. It was originally your house. I'll find another residence. I have a lot of time to live now!"　　

"It doesn't matter, I live here as well," Qi Leren said in a reserved way.　　

The last time when he signed the confidentiality agreement with Du Yue, he’d felt that he was very sorry for the other. How dare he take the house back?　　

Recently, he had had to buy an extra bed. Otherwise Dr. Lu, who was grudgingly made to sleep on the sofa, would have continued to look at him bitterly and even dare to be angry at this “evil guest” who had taken over his nest. 　　

Du Yue looked at Qi Leren, who refused to move back, as if he was wronged. He lowered his head like a big dog who had been reprimanded by his master. Dr. Lu looked at him pitifully and invited him to have dinner with them. Du Yue immediately perked up: "Good, good, I have no place to eat!"　　

So the meal became three people together. If Qi Leren's training ended early, he would come back to cook. If it ended late, Dr. Lu would do it. Dr. Lu's culinary skills were not bad. You could see it from how Du Yue ate three bowls in one go.　　

After dinner, Du Yue rushed to wash the dishes. Qi Leren and Dr. Lu had a brief exchange about today's events.　　

"Du Yue had come several times even before you came back. I'm telling you, he's a personal event trigger! Almost every time, it was a courageous injury. Walking on the road the day before yesterday, he witnessed a robbery. He went up and beat the robber who then stabbed him. Today, he met a pregnant woman who wanted to jump off a building. He saved her but fell off himself. Fortunately, only his arm was broken..." Dr. Lu gushed about Du Yue's glorious deeds, and he was very optimistic about this young man.　　

"Are you talking about me?" Du Yue came out of the kitchen after washing the dishes.　　

"Yes, talking about the series of accidents that you’ve encountered almost daily," Dr. Lu smiled.　　

Du Yue scratched his head and said with a silly smile: "It's okay… It’s not every day."　　

"Does it have to happen every day?" Qi Leren vomited a sentence.　　

"Is the pregnant woman you saved today okay?" Dr. Lu asked smoothly.　　

"Okay? Ah, Her friend persuaded her to go with her after a while and asked for my contact information, saying that she would like to thank me next time," Du Yue said.　　

"If you want an abortion, between the Village of Dusk’s medical facilities plus the monthly tasks, isn’t it only too easy?" Dr. Lu said.　　

"Yes, that's what I told them."　　

A young man who had just grown up and a young man who looked like he was underage talked seriously about the problem of pregnancy and childbirth. This picture was a bit funny. After listening for a while, Qi Leren suddenly remembered the laptop. He quickly got up and said, "You two take your time talking, I’m going to go for a walk."　　

After leaving Dr. Lu's clinic, Qi Leren followed the address that Chen Baiqi had given him before, and went to find the house of the tech savvy player who was still alive.　　

The place where the player lived wasn’t far from Dr. Lu's clinic. Qi Leren was still worried that he still hadn’t come back after leaving for his task. However, this time he was lucky. After ringing the doorbell, a mechanical voice that sounded like a young girl came from behind the door: "Master is busy. What can I do for you?"

"Hello, I was referred by Chen Baiqi. I need to make an electronic appliance please," Qi Leren said.　　

"Just a moment, please."

After a few minutes, the door opened and Qi Leren saw at a glance that the three foot tall robot on the ground looked like a moving trash can. It opened the shoe rack and found a pair of shoe covers for Qi Leren: "Please come with me."　　

It was indeed a high-tech house. Qi Leren sighed with emotion in his heart and followed the little robot all the way to the basement.　　

The basement was very big. After Qi Leren went in, he suddenly saw a screen on the wall facing him!　　

However, it wasn’t like the HD display screens common in the real world, it was like the oldest gray TV screens in an antique shop. There were constantly black and white pixels moving on this display screen, which was actually playing a simple shooting game like a computer in the 1980s!　　

As Qi Leren approached, the man who had his back to him as he watched the screen suddenly lost the game, one hand coming down on the table: "Shit, lost again!"　　

"Hello." Qi Leren made a noise.　　

The man's back froze and he turned slowly. He was a young man with glasses who looked a little dull: "...Oh, hello."　　

Qi Leren felt that he was more nervous than him. His voice was a little shaky and he stuttered a little, obviously the type that didn’t have contact with others often.　　

After Qi Leren stated his purpose, the techy suddenly got excited: "Did you bring your laptop into the game? Sell it to me, I’ll pay a high price!"　　

Qi Leren suddenly broke out in a cold sweat, not to mention that the laptop was still in Schrodinger's state, appearing and disappearing irregularly. Even if the laptop was in his item bar now, he couldn't give it to others. But if he refused this person's request, would he still help him make the charger or transformer? He had to find a suitable reason...　　

Qi Leren secretly gritted his teeth and made a decision.　　

"No, there’s very important information on it. I can't give it to anyone," Qi Leren resolutely said.　　

"I can print the information for you!" the techy said enthusiastically, without stuttering.　　

"This... is not that kind of information." Qi Leren looked embarrassed and his eyes wandered. "It's the kind of... hundreds of G, you know..."　　

The techy’s eyes grew brighter: "Dude! I haven't seen a movie in such a long time! Sell it to me! Lend it to me without selling it!"　　

Qi Leren coughed twice: "To tell you the truth, all I watched were pure men's shootouts..."　　

The techy was stunned for a moment, then resolutely insisted: "It's okay, anti-Japanese drama, gun battle film, American blockbuster, I watched all of these."　　

Qi Leren covered his forehead: "I'm talking about GV, GayVideo, a film made by a group of men, understand!"　　

"................I understand."　　

In order to keep the laptop far away, Qi Leren, who did not hesitate to destroy his image, showed a kind smile: "Do you want to see it? I have quite a few varieties there, from gangbang to S/M to people and animals-"　　

"No, I, I, I, I, I still like girls."　　

"Oh, that's a pity," Qi Leren said regretfully.　　

After he dispelled the techy’s idea of buying the laptop off him, Qi Leren quickly finalized this order with him: to make a mobile power supply that could be externally connected to a laptop, which was equivalent to a large charging battery—"When I go to a copy task without electricity, I also want to watch these films to reduce stress." Quote by a serious Qi Leren.　　

"By the way, make another transformer, because the voltage in the Village of Dusk is different from that in the real world—of course, you should watch movies to relax when you’re in the Village of Dusk." Quote by a still serious Qi Leren.　　

The techy wanted to warn him that "a little joy hurts his body". In particular, he looked at Qi Leren walking a little bit. He looked like he was worn out and exhausted. He was finally defeated by Qi Leren’s kind smile and closed his mouth silently.　　

Out of the techy’s house, Qi Leren gave a long sigh. Today, he once again made himself into a gay man with strange taste. He was still a wretched gay man who watched hardcore porn every day. It seemed that the path to building an upright image only grew longer.

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Editor’s Notes: Happy first day of pride month, everyone! 🌈

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