#and the whole focus is steve being deaf

[thediktatortot]

Can we get more deaf Steve Harrington stories that are like...normal stories where Steve just happens to be deaf, however deaf he is.

Like, I want him to be deaf in some way, but I wish there was more stories where the story was like a normal story. Just write a regular story, canon, AU, Divergent, but just...happen to make him deaf. Like that can still be a integral plot point.

Give me deaf pirate Steve, or a monster AU where Steve gets taken because he's deaf, unable to hear the monster coming.

You get me?

[fuckyeahjuliankeller]

hello my loves! i think it's about time i drop in my two cents on the anthony mackie situation. fair warning, this is a long post and i don't make an effort to keep my language clean in it.

also important for me to note: i use "you" a lot in this post. it is a general you, directed at the group of people who have caused this problem. i am not directing this at all of the fandom. just the racists who caused it to get this bad in the first place. here we go!

i know people have pointed this out, but i want to make it very clear. yes, anthony mackie did word things strangely. you know what that means of him? that he's human. those of you who actively partake in fandom racism will take any white man doing the bare fucking minimum and elevate him to a pedestal that's unattainable by any people of colour in the same fandom, and as soon as a person of colour makes one (evidently dissonant with past actions) slip-up, they're the latest in the "which poc can we get out of the narrative today" game.

what makes the situation worse? a person of colour, in this case a black man who has consistently been activating and publicly lending support to many different and important causes as well as speaking up about his stance on the very issues that are so near and dear to people of colour in fandom, when they make a misstep, are absolutely torn to shreds.

meanwhile, you as a fandom whole will continue to apologise for white actors who continuously display problematic behavior, sometimes deliberately, and you either ignore it completely or make up some bullshit excuse to defend it. i'm not going to name names in this post, it detracts from the whole idea that i'm trying to get across, but these people are some of the biggest names in fandom. it is sometimes repulsive how you will use willful ignorance to apologise for them.

additionally, the full context of the interview with variety lends itself to many flaws, which you can read about in this phenomenal post by @thetransguard. the part of the fandom that attempted to eat mackie alive (which is most of the fandom) completely fucking missed this. it almost seems like you who went after him were searching for yet another reason to "fuck [poc name here], stan [white man 30495834] instead!" which honestly, is absolutely the case.

and that makes me fucking livid. you who are ripping him apart right now, your only concern for mackie and his character, sam wilson, has been sebastian stan and bucky barnes. mackie attends any interview, including interviews that are supposed to celebrate his achievements? he's only asked about sebastian stan. white fans discuss and love on "sambucky"? sam is just whatever trope he needs to be to make bucky cry, or smile, or feel better, or feel safe, and that is the extent of his character. that's disgusting. do you understand that?

stupid question. evidently not. mackie brings up valid points that yall stucky fans and now stucky turned sambucky fans continue to miss, he makes these points in admittedly a convolutedly worded fashion, but he makes them regardless. and you know what the other problem with white fans' reaction to it is? this is exactly what fans of colour in your very own beloved fandom have been trying to tell you. we attempted to make these points during the show. you know, when you lot were throwing steve in every damn chance you got and centering the show around bucky and steve and steve and bucky and who's sam? we don't know sam. all we know is a black guy who got steve's shield, and he won't pick it up, and that makes bucky sad, and bucky's doing his best, okay, he's not ignorant, sam's just mean to him, and--

it's fucking draining. from the beginning, this has been about sebastian stan and bucky barnes. you who are ripping anthony mackie to shreds were never here for him in the first place. you never listened to him. you never saw his character for who sam wilson was. and that's coming to a head in how you are receiving his words. and are you truly missing the point of his words? or is there another reason why you took apart that evidently hate-bait headline and used that specific word choice, when it was fucking clear mackie had a point that was an overtone to the words he chose, to turn mackie into a paragon of homophobia and problematic behavior?

yes, i believe there is. because it's the same fucking reason you will drown out the voices of fans of colour when we call you out for the utter bullshit you spout in regards to the media you are incapable of consuming beyond a shipping lens. it is the reason you take it upon yourselves to slam fans of colour for being selfish, or inserting into the narrative something that to your shallow interpretation wasn't intended, or reminding you that sam wilson, anthony mackie's character, is more than a racist trope prop for your favourite white character(s).

you will bemoan the lack of bisexual bucky in canon. you will throw bucky with any white man he looks once at. you will lament how "rude" poc fans are being when they ask you to focus on sam and his story. you take poc fans, black fans especially, talking and clearing up the commentary on racial and class themes that the show attempts to address, and you will tell all of us that "it's not that deep." you will turn around and shit all over bucky and sarah. sam and bucky to you is a prop to make your newly minted m/m ship canon, because stucky never became canon the way you insist it should have. that's the core of the problem, we say, that wanting the m/m ship to be canon has shifted from wanting representation to wanting two men, generally two white men, to kiss on screen so you can go crazy about it. bucky and zemo will never be canon. bucky and john walker will never be canon. you saw sam and bucky and you said, this is stucky 2.0, and you centered it around bucky and steve as an invisible third party. that is what you are advocating for. that is what mackie fucking addressed.

so the reason? the reason is that you know we're right and we have been right all along, but you're too fucking thickheaded to acknowledge that as a respectful human being. so instead, you turn to whatever the hell you can twist mackie's words into, and attempt to get him out of the fandom picture altogether. that's it, isn't it?

how fucking detestable.

just read the goddamn interview, read mackie's other interviews if you need to, and stop ignoring the truth of the messages he is trying to convey. maybe it'll do you some good to watch and read mackie solo interviews as opposed to sebastian and mackie interviews where all you focus on is the relationship between those two actors, completely ignoring what they, especially and generally mackie, are trying to convey. that's another problem, isn't it?

full circle. stop being fucking tone deaf and listen to poc fans and actors for once in your privileged, entitled lives.

thank you for reading all the way through.

[iwantutobehapppier]

Milk and Honey

Pairing: Steve Roger x Jewish!Reader

Summary: One year after Eight Smutty Nights. Your husband Steve has been gone for two weeks, leaving you with your newborn. Can he make it home in time for the first night of Chanukah? How could he make this up to you? 

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, lactation kink, daddy kink, cum play, oral, masturbation.

A/N: Happy 1st night of Chanukah. I’m a bit rusty in my smut writing so thank you for my patience of a saint wife @sagechanoafterdark​. I hope you all enjoy. Oh it’s a sequel to the first Chanukah smut I wrote last year, Eight Smutty Nights. Can’t wait to give you guys the rest of your presents. ;)

He was rushing up the stairs. Well aware he would be faster than the elevator, as he tried to reach you before the sunset, ensuring he doesn’t miss the 1st Chanukah together as a family.

In the last year since your winter wedding, Steve had found himself taking part in more Jewish traditions. As if welcoming your faith with your union last winter opened the floodgates.

Mindful of the setting sun with as much grace and silence as he can muster Steve pushes the front door eyeing your form, the flickering candlelight as you carried the burning shamash to the first night candle on the right lighting the living room. Steve kept his distance, but he silently mouths the prayer with you, gladly welcoming the 1st-night of Chanukah. You turned just slightly to see your husband joining you, a warm smile blooming over your face as you both prayed. 

When you turn to your side Steve’s breath hitches. The soft candlelight illuminating you and the precious 8-weeks-old baby girl wrapped up in the cloth against your body. You had been adamant that she be constantly with you, your motherly instincts triggering something primal within Steve. While everything you did was a turn on, it had been especially hard to keep his distance as of late, giving your body time to recover. 

You face him fully, taking a step towards him but with his wide gait he meets you in two steps. His large hands caressing the top of your little one’s head and cupping your cheek, leaning towards you to catch your lips between his. An involuntary sigh emitting from him at your touch.  

With reluctance, he pulls away. 

“Chag Urim Sameach,” your voice a soft balm to his body after two weeks without you. His mission took longer than expected, but to his delight, the sweet little girl the two of you made seemed to be growing even more perfect in his absence. A soft yawn showing her toothless mouth left a burning in his chest.

Your smaller hand slips over his covering Sarah’s head. 

Sarah. He wanted to kiss you the moment you had suggested the name. Not only was it his mother’s name but apparently a family name for you. A soft smile pulls at his lips looking from the sleepy infant to his beautiful bride and mother of his child.

“I’m sorry,” Steve started but with a soft shake of your head, he stops as you turn the living room lights on.

“It couldn’t be helped,” your understanding easing the anxiousness he had coming home. A muted whine starting from Sarah, your eyes glancing to the clock and you make your way to your couch, slowly unwrapping the baby as her fussing starts to grow. 

“Have you been here alone the whole time?” Steve could feel his guilt weigh heavier after being gone so long with the newborn baby. He had spoken to Tony before coming to you informing him he would only be available under the direst of situations. 

“Oh no,” you assure, unclipping the strap from your top and then your bra, slowly getting used to this whole feeding situation. Steve tried to focus on your next words as you spoke, but the moment your enlarged breast came out for Sarah to feed, he went absolutely deaf.

Mesmerized Steve sits next to you. Watching as his beautiful daughter latches onto your nipple, the suckling deafening to his ears. His tongue swiping over his lips, realizing quickly he wasn't listening to a word you said, his mind finally tuned back in.

“And then she wasn’t feeding from the bottle but I think it’s because mom wasn’t warming it up enough,” you continued, oblivious to your husband as he tried his damnedest to figure out what you could be talking about. However, when you pulled your shirt down completely, rubbing on the red and swollen nipple he had checked out once more.

“Mom insists that I’ll keep producing-” you flinch, cessation of your voice pulls Steve back in.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” His dazed eyes flicking up to your face as he spoke, the grimace on your lips makes his own downturn. He knows it’s bound to happen but he doesn’t like seeing you in pain… well unless he’s caused it.

You nod your head, “She’s an eager eater,” you smirk catching Steve’s eyes back on your breasts. “Much like her father.”

Steve had an affinity for tits, that much had always been clear between you. But now it had turned into a full-blown obsession. His newfound ‘kink’, as you had called it, happened when your first milk came in and he was practically watering at the mouth for a taste. 

Steve shifts in his seat, pulling at his pants trying to hide the obvious growing erection. You catch his movement and look up from watching Sarah feed to see what he clearly failed to hide. 

He notices you catching him ogling and he has just enough shame to blush but not enough that he can stop himself from looking back at your breasts. He nods as you move Sarah gently to your other breast, once again she latches with eagerness.

“So your mother was here?” You smiled, holding in a chuckle at his words as if you hadn’t been talking about that past 15 minutes. “Why isn’t she here now?” 

“Hmm,” you pause Sarah stopping feeding, you hold her on your chest, her head on your shoulder you softly pat her back and rub in circles. “I told her we’d do a big deal for the last night of Chanukah.”

“We could have-” 

“I just got my husband back home,” you interrupted. “Can you blame me for being selfish with our time?” Steve scooted himself closer to you, pulling your side to his chest, a gentle upturn of lips at the quiet burp Sarah lets out.

“I love nothing more than how selfish you are with our time,” Steve tries his best to not ogle your still exposed breast. Noticing Sarah slipping into slumber he seizes this moment to not only distract but to hold his little girl. 

Standing up with the tiny bundled in his arms, Steve makes his way to the bedroom with her bassinet. His blue eyes shining with admiration for the miracle made by both of you. Watching how delicate he is with her, the contrast in their size warming your heart.

Once the two are out of eyesight you look down at your exposed chest, satisfied that the swelling is starting to ebb. You weren’t sure how well you would handle once the teething comes in. Maybe you’d pump into bottles. 

Speaking of pumping, you can feel the pressure of remaining milk, sometimes they ached just by the milk production alone. You pull your shirt up as you move to the kitchen grabbing the pump and then taking your spot back on the couch.

Just as you’ve moved your top down again Steve walks back in to pause at the site.

“Do you need some help?”  

Looking up you catch the darkening of his eyes, catching the way he not so subtly tugs on his pants to give his hardening cock a little relief. The serum coursing through him letting his eyes see the smallest dollop of milk pooling at the tip of your breast.

“You know I’d never turn away your help,” you pause eyelids lowering, feeding off the energy your insatiable husband exudes, “Daddy.”

Steve falls to his knees, shimming to you as you spread your legs wide to make room for his huge figure. He pulls the tubing and funnels from the machine away from you. Large calloused hands slide up cupping both heavy breasts from below. The choked groan that pulls from his lips sends a shot straight between your legs, wetness pooling in your yoga pants.

“Baby,” he whispers before wetting his lips to wrap around a taut nipple. His tongue laves your nipple and surrounding skin with wide sweeping movement, coaxing your milk to come out. When the warm sweet liquid pours in his mouth he can’t help but rut his crotch against the couch cushions. His tongue lapping out the side of his mouth to catch a stray drop of milk.

Your fingernails dig into the couch fibers, the sensation holy erotic as Steve feeds from you, a stark contrast to nursing Sarah.

He massages the other from below, fingers kneading and pushing upwards, prepping for his future attention. The thought of feasting on you while you sit on his cock pulls a gargled groan. Feeling the precum leaking from the tip of his cock, certainly making a clear stain in his jeans.

Invigorated he pulls harder on the nipple, seeking to take all you have to offer, knowing full well you would be replenished by the next nursing time.

“Ste-Steve,” You shudder when he pulls back. His hands move to your waist, lifting you up, and with a whoosh of movement, he’s sitting in your spot with you straddling his lap. You push down on his lap, eliciting moans from both of you.

His hands slip behind to grip your asscheeks, rocking you back and forth. When you lean forward he dips his head down, latching onto your neglected breast. Moans slipping past your lips at his incessant suckling. His tongue rolls along the nipple taking everything he can, lips shining in the light with your milk. When a little dribbles down the underside of your tit, he pulls off your nipple with a resounding ‘pop’ to lick the trail of milk. Refusing to miss a single drop of your sweet nurturing milk. 

He bites on the underside of your breast, the symphony of moans he was pulling from you stops to let out a soft mewl. Steve grins against your breast before trailing bites and licks up to your nipple. Taking the swollen tip in his mouth his pulls more from your body once more.

He knows you most likely can’t take him yet, your cervix still tinder from birth and he wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself, the way he feels feeding on your tits alone driving him mad with unbridled desire.

He grunts pushing you down hard onto him, rocking your hips back and forth. Your fingers thread through his hair, your lips resting against the crown of his head while you rock your hips faster taking the lead, the friction of his jeans catching your swollen clit if you move in just the right way against the strained zipper. 

With soft whimpers growing back into moans Steve basks in your noises. Trying his hardest to not make a mess in his jeans but with the taste of your sweet milk flowing into his mouth coupled with the way he can feel your heated and certainly swollen pussy through those yoga pants it's quickly becoming his undoing.

Readjusting you to straddle his thigh without leaving your heavy breast he starts bouncing his leg, pulling your hips back and forth. When you catch against the seam your head tips back with a gutted moan. 

“Daddy,” The way your voice whines in need demands his attention. Pulling from your nipple admiring how red and swollen the nipple shines with his spittle he looks up past your arched neck. Your eyes closed tight in pleasure.

“Cum on my thigh baby,” his voice strained, pushing your hips down anxious for you to release so he can lick up that nectar instead. Enjoying the way your body shudders as it keys up for his favorite sight. “Look at me,” he growls.

You barely catch his words, so caught up in the pleasure he’s pushing and pulling against your body. Bending back down, your eyes hooded, lips parted as moans fall out uncontrollably. It’s building and when one of his hands releases your hips to cup your pussy outlined in the yoga pants perfectly his fingers find your clit with ease, rubbing directly you can feel the pleasure reaching precipice. 

Your legs jerk out straight, you curl into Steve but he pulls your head up keeping your gaze as your orgasm overtakes you. Riding out your high you barely notice that Steve is lifting you up in his arms, taking wide steps to your bedroom to lay you on your marital bed. 

Taking your relaxed state to his advantage he pulls your top and yoga pants off with swift movement. Just as your coming to you feel your husband fold your body in half, lifting your throbbing pussy to his face as he puts one knee on the bed. 

Slipping your panties to the side his wide tongue drags from your quivering opening to your clit. A loud moan forced out at the sensation is painful with your compressed lungs. 

The two of your freeze when Sarah makes a noise in the bassinet on the other side of the bed.  Steve’s lips wrapped around your clit similar to how he had previously been on your nipples. His eyebrows wiggle when you look at the bassinet then back to him when Sarah seems to remain asleep.

You cover your mouth this time when he hums to begin tracing patterns on your clit with his tongue. Your hips jutting at the overstimulation. Having minimal mercy on you Steve releases your clit, dipping his tongue into you, pulling out your honey. Groaning into your wet flesh he pushes two fingers in above his tongue, curling to find that special spot that makes you cry out just how he likes it. His tongue slipping out only for a moment to coat your back entrance in saliva before returning to the slick leaking from your core.

Your free hand grips his hair, pulling him and at times pushing his head. Your body withering with pleasure bordering on pain. His cock throbs in his jeans, with haste he unbuttons and pulls the zipper down, pulling his cock out through the slit in his boxer briefs. With a groan of relief, he strokes himself to soothe his ache, having to stop himself before he finishes too soon.

Refocusing he doubles his effort, one hand holding your contorted form, the other fingers pushing against the spongy spot he so loves. Your legs flail above you trying to buck him off at the intensity. Muffled cries music to his ears as he licks and kisses your clit ensuring your rapid climb to another release.

It’s all-encompassing, the way your legs press against your tender breasts, his devilish tongue diligence, and skilled fingers dragging, then pulling you into a spiral. He needed you to cum for him once more, just as badly as your body needed it. The rising in tide more intense than your previous orgasm. 

You shake your head, overwhelmed, trying to get Steve’s attention with your eyes alone. It was too much, you were certain you wouldn’t be able to be quiet. Feeling and hearing your shaking he catches your eyes, smirking at the panic he finds in them. 

Oh, you were going to take it no matter how much it bordered on torture.

Just as your hand flies from your mouth to grip his head pulling him against you with shaking limbs, his large palm slaps over your mouth covering the desperate cry singing your release.

Thighs trembling and soft cries following the outburst Steve removes his fingers from your depths only for his tongue to take their place to relish in your taste. Steve’s hand wet with your juices grips his cock, jerking at a quick tempo, he’s almost there as is.

Keeping his pace he lets your legs fall on either side of him. Sitting back up he points his leaking cock at you. Thumb sweeping over the tip to use this cum with your juices as a lubricant. 

“Fuck,” he hisses looking over your ravaged body. “You look so beautiful,” he grunts feeling his balls tighten. He couldn’t wait until he could flood your pussy once more and put another baby in that beautiful soft body but until then…

“Please daddy,” your voice rough from the abuse of pleasured cries as you watch him jerk himself with a rapid pace. “I want to see you cum.”

That does it, Steve’s head falls forward, thick cream shooting from the tip at the pace of his heartbeat, coating your chest and stomach. A little dribbling down your mons. Steve licks his lips watching more and more cover you. 

Heavy breaths the only sound in the room as your fingers dip into the cream over your tits, taking the covered fingers into your mouth to suck clean followed by a soft hum. Steve gives out a breathy chuckle at your lustful act. 

After pulling his clothes off he lays down beside you on the bed, Pulling you to his chest, not caring about the mess he’s made on both of you. A shower would be later, now he needed to feel the weight of his wife’s body on him with the soundtrack of his daughters sleeping breath to help soothe the chasm being away two weeks left. 

Yes, a shower and all the other things could come later, now he just wanted his family. Just his family. 

[pathetic-dumpling]

Being People

Techno owning the fact that he was- is- a person was explosive. It was loud and powerful. It was a battlefield, with him screaming his woes to deaf ears. Dream’s realization was quiet. Almost if he hadn’t believed it himself.

aka Techno and Dream talk, and together they're just people.

warnings: implied/referenced torture, abuse, dehumanization, starvation, dark portrayals of c!quackity, and abuse of power

or read on ao3 instead!

Techno owning the fact that he was- is- a person was explosive. It was loud and powerful. It was a battlefield, with him screaming his woes to deaf ears. Dream’s realization was quiet. Almost if he hadn’t believed it himself.

It had been on a quiet, restless night. Techno and Dream only ever got around to talking, really talking and spilling secrets beyond simple pleasantries, at night, Techno noticed. He wonders why. Maybe it’s the serenity, the quietness knowing that you’re the only person in the world for just a little bit. That there is nothing around but the snow and the moon and the forest. There is nothing that wants to hurt Dream within the small haven countless blizzards have brought them. Maybe it was the subtle comfort of that that allows Dream to finally spill his secrets.

Dream confessed his treatment in the prison almost as if they were sins of his own to bear. He kept his head low and his voice even more so, almost as if he was afraid that someone outside of the small bubble of safety could hear. The active focus on listening made Techno’s ears flick, darting between the soft crackle of the fire and the soft curves of Dream’s voice, but he would listen the best he could. Techno made sure that no one would be able to sneak up on them like this, but as his own paranoia creeps in now and then, he can hold nothing against Dream’s quiet fear.

The torture and the pain and the fear are spilled into the night, Techno a willing listener to whatever Dream has to say. Techno tried to not let himself be angry, or at least not let the anger show. This isn’t his anger to feel. It should be Dream’s; it is Dream’s. The anger is not Techno’s. These are Dream’s experiences, his trauma. Techno knows more than anyone how frustrating it is for others to decide to feel something for you. Instead, Techno lets himself be angered by the abuse of power, something he has always stood against. He allows himself to feel empathy for the suffering his friend has gone through. He lets himself be calm and solid, something for Dream to cling to and ground himself in. It’s what he’s always done, for everyone he cares for, and Dream is no exception.

At some point, Dream started crying. His voice cracked and broke until he could no longer use it, and then signing made his arms tired, and his hands became too shaky. Techno did his best to calm Dream down, throwing out a few jokes, moving to the couch across from Dream, and offering his cape to the other. That seemed to do the trick because soon enough, Dream had control over his breathing.

Techno sighs, leaning back and rubbing at his legs. Dream had fallen silent, which he took as permission to begin adding his thoughts. “Well, you know, you deserved none of that, right? What Quackity did- it wasn’t in the right. It wasn’t good, and it certainly wasn’t deserved.”

Dream sucked in a shaky breath, wiping away some leftover tears. He sniffed, glancing over to Techno with red eyes. “Why?”

“Well… because you’re a person.” Techno shrugs.

Dream pauses. He looks down at his hands, rubbing them together. “Oh…”

“What do you mean ‘oh’?” Techno chuckled lightly. “You’ve always been a person, Dream. Y’know… we’ve worked together, you warned me about the Butcher Army… you’re just as much of a person as me.”

“No, I… I know that you-- you’re a person, yeah, but… me?” Dream’s voice breaks lightly as more tears pool. “But Quackity said-”

“What Quackity said doesn’t matter.” Techno is never really firm with Dream, but this is one thing he’ll let form a slight edge in his voice. This is one habit that he won’t quietly address with Dream. “He was your torturer, your-your abuser, Dream. What he says, whatever he said, it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t reflect you or your character. Other people shouldn’t control who you are.”

Dream looks at him, wide-eyed as a single tear rolls down his cheeks. Techno makes a mental note to tell Phil to try to get Dream to drink more water tomorrow. “But Tommy, and Wilbur, and-and-”

“Hey, that… they were your enemies, alright?” Techno’s voice catches in his throat, and he shoves down memories that threaten to rear their heads and make his words bitter. “They’re bound to say some nasty stuff about you, okay?”

“But I did things, I-”

Techno holds his hand up, cutting Dream’s small tangent short. “Don’t tell me this stuff to justify that you aren’t a person, Dream. That you’re not worthy of basic decency, alright? Tell me this stuff on your own time; when you’re not trying to convince me of something. Plus, you’re kind of talking to a guy who blew up a country to prove that I was a person, right? I’m the wrong guy to talk to if you wanna go down the route.”

Dream watches Techno for a moment, eyes darting around, searching, looking for something that he’ll never find out here in the arctic. He sniffs, wiping at his nose, then the rest of his face, and nods silently.

“Okay,” he croaks out. “But I… I’m…”

“You’re just a guy,” Techno says, a small smile forming as he tilts his head. “You’re just a guy I watched build a dirt house after I made fun of him for being homeless one time.”

A slight, choked-out wheeze leaves Dream. “You watched that?”

“The whole time. Lead a creeper or two into your house, too.”

“You fucker,” Dream laughs, dragging his hand down his face. “Why would you do that? I worked so hard, you bastard.”

“In my defense, it was really funny.”

“Oh my god,” Dream sighs, shaking his head. “This is stupid. This is so dumb.” Dream sighs again, fondly this time. His shoulders sag, finally letting go of the tension building in his frame as his body slumps against the soft material of his chair. He pauses, letting the small, warm smile drop from his face. “Why are you so nice to me?”

Techno’s ears flick. “Have I ever told you about my ‘absolute reciprocity’ policy?”

Dream shakes his head.

“Well… those who treat me with injustice and cruelty, I will repay that tenfold. Whatever suffering they inflict upon me will be given back.”

“Like L’manberg.”

Techno nods. “But it also applies to kindness.” He holds up a finger like he’s making a speech to the syndicate. “And that kindness will also be repaid tenfold.”

Dream blinks at Techno owlishly, clearly not catching the point.

“You saved my life, Dream,” Techno smiles. “The least I can do is help you get yours back on track, all right?”

“Saved your life?” Dream echoes. “At the execution? Please. All I did was get Carl back for you.”

“You underestimate how much I love that horse.” Techno smiles when a small laugh spills out of Dream, but he hopes the message isn’t lost. Dream has been kind, has done what others haven’t for him, and Technoblade plans on repaying that.

Eventually, Dream’s dry and scratchy throat sends him into a coughing fit, shaking his frail frame in a way Techno doesn’t think he’ll ever be comfortable with. He’s up and out of his seat before Dream can even open his mouth to ask for a glass of water, returning with a full glass and passing it off gingerly. Dream sips, quietly soothing his aching throat. Techno doesn’t return to his seat just yet, planning on probing Dream just a little more before the night ends.

“You tired enough to go back to bed?” Techno asks.

“No,” Dream shakes his head lightly. “I’m kind of hungry, though.”

Techno rubs his hands together, already moving over to the kitchen as Dream watches him. “Anything you’re feeling in the mood for?”

Dream shakes his head, making Techno grimace lightly. Dream almost always has something he wants, he just has to wiggle it out, so Techno throws out a few feelers.

“Something light?” he asks. “Do you want, like, an actual meal or just a quick snack?”

“...something light, please.”

“Sure.” Techno gets to work, making a small plate of buttered toast for Dream to munch on for the time being. They, and by “they,” Techno means himself and Phil, have finally gotten Dream to warm up to the idea of asking for things like water and food but incorporating preference has still been a bit of a struggle. That’s alright, Techno has all the witty patience he needs, and Phil has lived forever, so they literally have all the time in the world for things like these. They’ll try for as long as it takes because Phil has always stayed by Techno’s side, and now Techno has decided to not leave Dream’s. Parts of him are bitter, memories still taint him in some ways, but he’s more than willing to throw them away to convince someone else that they’re human, too.

Techno can’t help but feel a slight sense of pride when he hands Dream his plate. Dream takes it with a small thanks thrown Techno’s way, holding the plate solidly in his hands before setting it down in his lap. The heat of the bread doesn’t bother him anymore like it used to, and holding ceramic plates isn’t a struggle either. The tremble in Dream’s hands is still present but not nearly as bad as it used to be. Techno doesn’t know if Dream knows how much he’s recovered and improved; because it’s all something so small, and he’s sure saying “good job being able to hold plates again” would sound a little belittling. Instead, he waits for Dream to finish eating before taking the plate back to the sink.

“Better?” Techno drapes himself over the back of Dream’s chair, letting some of his hair slip forward and tickle Dream’s face, making his nose scrunch up.

Dream nods. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Silence fills the cabin. The fire begins to die down, so Techno throws on another few logs, accidentally disturbing Steve in his sleep. The bear makes a small sound of displeasure before falling back asleep, practically dead on the floor. Dream hums quietly, playing with his fingers. He rubs over the nub of the ring finger on his right hand as he tongues at a tiny bit of bread stuck in the gap in his teeth.

Eventually, Techno asks if he’s tired again. Dream still says no, but he assures Techno he’s fine to be alone for the rest of the night.

“I’m asking for you, dude.” Techno shrugs. “I’m used to sleeping at weird times- I used to do it with my hoard all the time.”

“...your piglin family?”

Techno nods.

“Okay… stay with me, then?”

Techno smiles quietly, almost entirely to himself. “Sure.”

[passivenovember]

Ok this is silly I had this thought and didn’t know what to do with it so since I know you’re from the midwest too here you go lol; no one explaining to billy the concept of testing tornado sirens after the move to Indiana so he’s just sitting in class on a sunny Wednesday morning when the sirens go off and he’s the only one freaking out (does Indiana even get tornadoes? idk)

Being born on the coast, right on the water, practically on a surfboard grants Billy wings. Flying high on the surf of tsunamis and hurricanes--tropical storms that lay palm trees flat when the wind blows just right--Billy knows that whatever monsters exist in Hawkins probably lie dormant under the weatherman's bed, or something. Completely harmless save for two weeks out of the year.

But.

Butbutbut--that doesn't stop him from preparing. He's got half a brain for self preservation, being raised by Neil, so Billy does the math. Scans a few Farmer's almanacs the week after they move into their cozy little shit shack on Cherry Lane and finds that Indiana has had 32 tornadoes in the last year.

Thirty fucking two.

And 1,015 people got hurt. And 32 Midwesterners died trying to rescue their hay bails from landing dick first in Oz, or something, but no one ever seems to be talking about it. No candles line the streets. No public vigils are held, Chief Hopper disgracing the dead just as he does the living.

Nope.

Things continue on with regularly scheduled boredom, until second period History. Billy's relaxed. Loose limbed, leaning into the blunt he smoked on the way across town this morning, and he's happy, for a Wednesday.

Counting the seconds until lunch, staring at the back of Steve Harrington's head, just. Salivating over waves of barley falling to rest against the collar of Harrington's stupid little shirt...when the wailing starts.

Typical.

And Billy's fingers go white-knuckle on the desk in front of him, carefully highlighted notes fading in and out of focus as his throat dries up.

Billy's never heard a noise like this in all his life.

It's a fucking nightmare. Cosmic punishment--nails on the black board, and screeching children, and road burned tires rolled up in one.

Billy thinks the skies have cracked open for the angels to sing with their high, scary voices. He thinks the walls must be vibrating with it. Humming in tune, as the wind whips a hole into the cosmos--

"Hey, are you alright?" Steve Harrington asks.

Mrs. Decker's gone.

Everyone's gone.

Billy tries to make sense of it, eyes blinking in rapid succession. One, two, three. Onetwo three twoo--

"Where did everyone go?" Billy tries, sounding. A lot weaker than he means to.

"You look like you're gonna hurl." Steve says, shuffling awkwardly. "I could, like. Grab a trash can for you, if that'd help?"

Billy tries to breathe in through his nose, and. Out through his mouth, or something.

Steve waves a hand in front of Billy's face, all, "Look, dude, if you're gonna ralph just tell me and I'll get the trash can."

"I don't want to--"

"Connor O'Murphy blew chunks in the one by science hall last year and it smelled like peanut butter." Steve says. Mean, like Billy's trying to be difficult. "It's not a big deal."

He waits for Billy to say something.

Billy doesn't.

Steve gets on his knees, leans back on his haunches, and. He looks kinder up close. Worried. "Hey." He says again.

Billy frowns. "I'm not deaf, alright, don't talk to me like I'm--"

"Okay."

"--I heard you the first fucking time--"

"Alright," Harrington snaps. "Jesus, you're not sayin' shit. And you're frozen in time or something. Freaking out." Steve tosses his hair.

Right out in the open like that, like. Billy didn't need the air in his lungs anyway.

Steve frowns. "You alright?" He tries again.

And Billy's had enough. "Where the fuck is that noise coming from?"

Steve looks over his shoulder and back again, like, "What noise."

Billy lets out a sound. It's rough. Hurts, a little.

Steve touches his knee. Billy smacks his hand away. "That noise," He says, as the angels hit another high note. "What the fuck is that, It sounds like a bomb's gone off somewhere."

Steve makes that stupid face again. The one with the doe eyes, and the puffy pink lips, and the flop of hair across his forehead.

The one that sets Billy's blood on fire. The one that makes him mad. Harrington eases the burn with a frown. "The tornado siren?" He supplies.

And.

Billy's whole ass, fucking. Drops into the gymnasium below.

"There's a tornado?" He whispers, chest staging a riot. "Why is no one doing. Anything. Why is no one--"

"Woah, woah, hey--"

"Why aren't we finding shelter?" Billy demands wildly. "There were thirty-two tornadoes last year, and 1,015 people got hurt and thirty two died and--"

"Listen, you gotta breathe, Hargrove." Steve makes a big show. Puckers his stupid pink lips and demonstrates how to do it.

Like human's aren't conditioned to breathe on impulse. Like Billy even could, with Harrington's lips looking like that--

Billy slaps the hand away that finds his chest. Gasps, too, like the room is filling with smoke. "Shouldn't we be finding shelter?"

Steve shakes his head. "No, man, 's a test siren." He says easily.

Too easily.

Billy stares at him. Watches him breathe in and out until his own breaths match up, just. Naturally.

"What?"

"Yeah." Steve's hand finds his knee again. Billy wishes he'd stop doing that, as Harrington's fingers toy with the rip in his pants. "Every Wednesday--"

"Bullshit."

"Let me finish." Steve says, almost. Fondly. "Every Wednesday from February to May they do practice drills."

"Who does practice drills?" Billy says thickly, trying to breathe. "Who's they, why would they do that--"

"How should I know?" Harrington snaps. Then; gently. "The power plant? The mayor? Channel 15? Who's to say."

Practice drills.

Billy goes back to monitoring his breathing even as Steve crowds into his space and immediately backs up. Looking like he wants to touch. More than just a knee.

"I hate the Midwest." Billy stands. Gathers his shit into a pile before thrusting it into his bag.

He can feel eyes on him. Soft, soulful brown eyes that pin him down. Hold him hostage.

"Look," Harrington says. Billy does, heart thumping in a way that has nothing to do with the sirens. Steve watches him for a moment before grinning softly. "I got a joint in my car." He says.

Billy frowns. "Yeah? And I got a will to live."

"I told you, it's not a real tornado--"

"But it could be." Billy finds the strength to stand smile. "If I'm gonna die in a natural disaster I don't want it to be because the corn swallowed me whole."

"I'll protect you." Harrington says fiercely.

And Billy's got half a brain for self preservation. Like a boy scout who couldn't pass the D.A.R.E course.

Turns out? He'd sacrifice it for a pair of brown eyes.

Typical.

[platypanthewriter]

Human by Day

Day FIVE of Harringrove AUgust: Fantasy AU.  When the curse hits Billy, Steve has hold of his hand.  He doesn't know it affected him too, until later.

It all started when Billy Hargrove got thrown in the dungeon. 

No, Steve corrected himself, it all started when the Court Magician decided Queen Susan should marry him, and started firing spells everywhere when she said no.  She’d thrown he and all his supporters in the dungeon, and he’d turned everyone else in the dungeons into rats, and started firing curses up through the ceiling in hopes of catching the queen.

Mostly they’d bounced off the solid granite rockwork, but a few rats—guards, or prisoners, or perhaps a combination of the two—had been turned to stone as well.  The Captain of the Guard, Robin Buckley, had been standing near the water wheel that brought the castle’s water, and a curse had bounced up and turned her into a dragon—not that she minded, once she asked her lady love about it.  

Steve was the last to hear, it felt like, and he was running down to the dungeons when Queen Susan grabbed his arm, and told him to stop.

“I need to go down there,” Steve told her, his heart pounding, and the Queen said he might look through the door of the dungeons, just so they’d know where the Court Magician was.  If Captain Robin could still fit her yards of scaly tail and wide spiky haunches down the narrow stairwell, the queen said wryly, she wouldn’t allow Steve anywhere near, because everyone knew dragons were resistant to magic.  

“I’ve written every magician in the nine realms,” she said, squeezing his fingers worriedly.  “Someone will—someone will come to help.  If we must blow the wall of the dungeons open to handle the problem,” she said softly, “—then we will, but there are so many people down there, and rats are small and fragile.”

Steve nodded, squeezing her thin hands in return, his throat closing at the thought.

 The Court Magician saw him through the bars, and started calling to him, since his brilliant plan to turn everyone into rats had not opened the cell doors, and his genius plan to then turn them to stone had also not opened the cell doors.  Steve could see Billy in the cell with him, looking exhausted in the corner.  

“You’ll beg me for release when my plans come to fruition,” the Court Magician laughed, and Steve didn’t bother telling him that Robin would never sully her role as Captain of the Guard by using her new dragon strength to cause mayhem.  The only screams since she’d become a dragon—happy ones—came from her bedroom, and her lady love glowed with blushing fervor now more than ever.  

Turning Captain Robin into a dragon had still had no effect on the locked cell doors.  

Steve watched Billy Hargrove, wedged into the corner of the cell.  He was dirty, slumped to the side, and Steve bit his lips together, looking around for something he could do.

The Court Magician paced the floor, threatening to turn all the rats into elephants that could crash their way out.

“Even if they did,” Billy sighed, “—we’d still be locked in here.”

The Court Magician turned on his heel to glare at his son, raising his arms—they were already glowing—and Steve threw the door to the dungeon open and ran in.  

“Billy,” he yelled, reaching in to beckon him closer to the bars.  Steve stuck his sword through, uselessly, towards Billy’s dad.  

He didn’t make it in time.

The curse hit Billy just as Steve’s outstretched arm brushed his shoulder, and Billy screamed, a sharp gutteral sound, as Steve dropped his sword—it wasn’t long enough—and hucked a stone rat in at the Court Magician’s head.  The Magician dodged, ducking away, and Steve grabbed and threw more rats as he glanced at where Billy had been, and saw a...crow.  

“Come here, you can fit through the bars,” Steve hissed at it, beaning the Court Magician with a rat to the head at last, at which point he spun to face him, raising his arms again.  “Billy,” Steve hissed.  “Come here—”  

The crow watched him, its head cocked as it fluffed its feathers nervously.  “Run,” it croaked.  

Just as Steve dove out of the path of the curse—it turned a stone rat into what looked like pudding, and Steve stared in horror as it spread into a puddle, and began to soak into the floor—the crow flew wildly and smacked the Magician in the side of the head, then scrabbled through the bars.

Steve grabbed Billy in his cape, trying to hold the fragile bones gently, and he squawked.  

“Run—Harrington, run—”

The magician blasted more rats into pudding as Steve fled down the hall—he’d been relieved to be able to see into the magician’s cell from the stairwell, but he didn’t dare try and run back out of the door with the Court Magician five feet away, turning living beings into pools of chocolate, vanilla, and a nauseating green slime he suspected was pistachio.  

The crow in his arms started shouting—half caws, half words.  “What are you doing down here,” Billy croaked at him.  “Why would—you’re stuck now, why are you down here—”  

“Sssh,” Steve told him.  “If we can sneak by him through the door, we can get out of here.”

“He won’t let you get to that door,” Billy croaked, fluffing his feathers like he was cold.  “You’re the only target left.  He won’t even sleep.  No one else would be stupid enough to come down here—”

“Ah,” said Steve, imagining the days of waiting until more magicians arrived, and trying to resist the lure of pudding.  He stopped to think.

“...why did you come in,” Billy chirruped softly, cocking his black feathered head to focus a bright black eye on Steve’s face.  “You shouldn’t’ve come in.”

“I couldn’t just stand there.” Steve told him, rolling his eyes.  “He was doing something to you.”  He trotted down to the deepest, dankest parts of the dungons, past the wine cellars and the old disused castle barracks, from before they added the upper floors.  

“You could have,” Billy said darkly, and Steve sighed, and then saw the door he was looking for.  “You should have...why the hell are we going into the privy drainage,” Billy asked, flapping irritably, and Steve snorted a laugh, breathing through his mouth as he walked down the stone ramp, and stood against the bars.  His boots sloshed in the ankle-deep sewage.  

“Here,” Steve said.  “I, uh.  You—you’ll fit through the bars.  I can just—I can toss you to the side, so you don’t fall.”  They looked down at the mountainside where the privies drained into open air, and the rising fog far below. 

“What,” Billy croaked.

“There are bushes and things around the sides, you won’t fall.  You can go,” Steve told him, pushing the hand Billy was clinging to through the bars.  He waved it within brushing distance of the jutting rocks that supported the drainage pipe.  “Go on.”

“I—I can’t just leave you down here,” Billy squawked, scrabbling at Steve’s gauntlet as Steve tried to shake him off.  “We don’t know when they’ll find someone to undo his curses—”

“Go,” Steve insisted.  “You can’t help me here—”

“I can’t help you out there, either,” Billy cawed, pecking at him.  “I’m a crow—”

“Just go,” Steve said, laughing a little, because Billy’s anger sounded funnier as a bird.  “It’s getting dark.”

“I’ll come back.  I’ll bring you some food, at least,” Billy said, clinging to Steve’s fingers with his talons, and sounding a bit muffled as he grabbed Steve’s sleeve with his beak as well.  

“Turn around!  Aim for the bushes!” Steve hissed, laughing, and wondering whether he’d ever see Billy’s real face again.  He set his jaw.  “Let go.  We don’t know whether you can fly—” he said, sternly, trying not to smile, when the whole castle lit up with a purple glow.  

There was a whud of air pressure, and Steve went deaf, clinging to Billy with both hands so he didn’t fall down the mountainside.  He could see Billy cawing, but couldn’t hear anything for a few moments, and then there was silence.  No voices from the guard stations above on the bridge, no wagon wheels, no voices chattering in the kitchen above, only the ponderous grind of the waterwheel.

“What,” Steve whispered, staring back over his shoulder towards the dungeons.  

“Are—are you—how are you still human,” Billy whispered, clambering up his arm to stare him down with ond beady eye.  “That—I felt that.  I didn’t change.  The curse before, it must have hit you too—”

“You should go,” Steve told him again.  Billy clutched at his hand, scrambling with his black bird feet, and Steve realized his hand was shaking, and Billy was trying not to fall.  “You—you can get out.”  Billy was barely visible in the last rays of the setting sun.  “You have to go,” Steve said, shoving him through the bars again as Billy squawked and clung.  

“No, no, wait—” Billy cawed, “We need to know if something happened to you—” but something was wrong, and Steve just shoved him at the bushes as his legs shook and collapsed.

He banged his face into the bars as he fell, and blinked at the floor of the tunnel, his skull aching.  

He had paws.

 Billy kept yelling, and finally Steve whined, a rumbling, high-pitched wheeze, as warm hands pulled him through the bars, and he buried his face in the smell at Billy’s neck.  

“Self-sacrificing bastard,” Billy whispered.  “...jesus, your ears are soft.”

Steve chose not to dignify that with a response, partly because Billy was trying to climb across the cliff face to the castle gates carrying a dog, and he probably needed to focus.  

“I have you,” Billy mumbled distractedly.  “I won’t let you fall.  We—we’ll go somewhere and—” he took a shaky breath.  “We’ll—take a rest,” he said, hefting Steve against his chest.  “Wait for someone to—to fix this.  I—I’ll find you something—something a beagle can eat,” he said, laughing a little hysterically, and Steve licked his jaw.  Billy laughed harder, or maybe he was crying.

Steve was one of the royal hounds, then, he thought.  It made sense in a way, as a royal guard, but he wondered why it had taken nearly half an hour after the curse hit for him to change—or several minutes after the wave of magic, when all the other castle noise had stopped instantly.  

“I’ll keep you safe,” Billy said, scrambling up through the scrubby brush and jagged rocks to the road.  

Steve whined again, trying to get down, because there was no need for Billy to carry him, not now that they were on the road.  

“Shut up,” Billy muttered, creeping along in the dark.  “You don’t wanna look around.”

Steve could see, some, the colors drained from the magic lanterns by his hound’s eyes, or maybe the darkness.  He stared over Billy’s shoulder at the frozen shapes of the guards, and the horses that had been hauling the wagon.  Other than Billy, he could smell no living creatures at all.

“If you hadn’t opened that door like an idiot, I guess you’d still be in that stairwell, cursed,” Billy muttered.  “What in the seven hells did you think you were doing, Harrington?”

Steve tried to huff a reply, but no hound can mimic human voices in the way a corvid can, and he just made a growly groan.  

Billy snorted a laugh.  “Good, you can listen for once.  When everything’s...fixed, when you’re a guard again, you have to take me back in  Take me to the guard.  You’ll end up in the dungeons too, otherwise.”

Steve barked, growling, and Billy laughed again.

“It’s funny how I can guess what you’re saying,” he said, adjusting Steve’s weight in his arms.  “But this was never gonna work.  I thought it might,” he said, going a little hoarse.  “I thought—before my father—” he cut off, taking a shaky breath.  “But you’re in the royal guard, and they’re going to kill me, with my father, as soon as they can.”

The whining noise kept going without Steve really intending to make it.  He growled, resorting to licking Billy’s whole face since he didn’t have hands, or a human voice.  

 Billy found an empty stall in the gatehouse, and sat down in the hay with Steve in his arms.  He leaned his head back in the straw.  “Your eyes are the same,” he whispered, stroking Steve’s ears as he fell asleep.

 Steve woke with hands, and patted his face, looking around frantically.  The crow he knew was Billy was perched on the stall door, looking ruffled.  “Are you well,” Steve whispered, getting up to smooth the straw out of Billy’s black feathers.

“It’s the sun,” Billy croaked, turning his head a little towards Steve’s hand, and then sidling clumsily away.  Steve stepped closer again, smiling, and ran a finger down the soft feathers of Billy’s head.  Billy stilled, watching him.  “It—it’s the sun,” he said again, tipping his head as Steve petted him.  “It—I,” he chirruped, fluttering his wings a little, and making garbled bird noises.

“I know you love it when I stroke your head,” Steve told him, watching him fluff up in annoyance.

“I changed back at sunrise,” Billy cawed, turning away.  “So did you.  That must—that must be what he did.  The curse hit both of us.  It’s—it’s divided somehow.  That’s why you aren’t a stone rat in the sewer pipe.”

“We’ll fix this,” Steve told him, running a finger down between Billy’s wings.  “I’m not losing you.”

“You already have,” Billy croaked, but he leaned into it as Steve carefully picked him up.

“No,” Steve told him, kissing his feathers.  “You’re still here.”

“...I flew around and found some food,” Billy said, stepping a little closer, and Steve wished he could kiss him, the way he had behind the glass house in the gardens.  

“Her Majesty will see reason,” he promised aloud, to Billy and to himself.  “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I could have seen the signs,” Billy croaked softly, as Steve scratched around the base of his skull.  “I should have seen this coming.”

“I could sneak back in,” Steve said, and Billy climbed him in a panic, his wings fluttering wildly.

“No!  No!  Harrington!” he cawed, just like a crow, Steve thought fondly.  

“Billy,” he said, stroking his feathers.  “If—if something—” he winced.  “If your father died,” he asked, with a grimace.  “Would the spells dissolve?”

“...hard to say,” Billy said, sounding calm, but his heart was pounding like a rabbit’s against Steve’s fingers.  “Don’t go back in there.  Please.”

“I could shoot him.  Aim a crossbow through the bars of the door,” Steve whispered, and Billy tried clambering up his collar again.  

“That stairwell is so damned small, that grate is too small,” he croaked.  “What if you miss.  Harrington.  Please.”

“...hrm,” Steve said, unwilling to completely surrender.  

 “At least we’re together,” Steve said that night, just before he changed, and Billy’s shiny black eyes glittered in the light of the magic lanterns as he watched Steve drop into the straw, groaning softly as his body rippled and changed.

“We aren’t,” Billy said, once he was human again, “—not really.”

Steve relished it, though—he and Billy alone for days, a week, a week and a half, talking as much as they liked.  Billy was furious at his father, and kept talking about his own imminent execution, but Steve—secretly—kept hoping for more time with him.  Billy wasn’t a noble anymore, he thought guiltily, not with his father stripped of all rank.  

The son of the Court Magician had been out of reach, for a guardsman.  

 “We’re going to run out of fresh food,” Billy said one evening, as they picked at the potato soup Steve had made.  

“I can go in to the gardens,” Steve offered cautiously.  “Or get a chicken.”

“Don’t even think of going back in the castle,” Billy told him, and Steve sighed.

“I won’t.”

Billy perched on a stone horse as Steve ate, ruffling his feathers in agitation.  

“I won’t go,” Steve told him.  “You have my word.”

 Steve took Billy to three different bookstores in the town, stepping around the stone inhabitants, and then they raided the houses of two priests and a local witch.  

“Read this to me,” Billy said, scrabbling at a book, and Steve read the table of contents, and then the chapter marked with a moon.  “...alright,” Billy said.  “Is there a calendar somewhere?”

Steve wandered around with his bossy crow on his shoulder until they found one, and Billy fluttered his wings again, chirruping.

“You’re acting like a bird again,” Steve told him, and Billy nipped his ear.  

“This curse has happened before,” he said, “—and it was unbreakable, until the caster saw the two cursed under the light of an eclipse.”

“Oh,” Steve said.  He could still be a guard, he thought, even if he was a dog every night, but he imagined Billy trying to live his life as a crow, and bit his lips.  He didn’t think being with Steve was enough to want to live as a crow.

He tried not to think about Billy’s lips, either, or how it felt in his arms.  It is unbreakable, he told himself, and took a steadying breath.

“There’s an eclipse in two days,” Billy said, dully.  

“Then we can save you,” Steve burst out, laughing with relief.  “We can save you!”

“No, we can’t, Harrington,” Billy said.  “There’s no one here to help, yet.  You can’t fight him on your own, he’ll turn you into—”

“We need Robin,” Steve said, dropping the scroll and running out of the house.  “She’s a dragon, now.  We need Robin.”

“I’m no help as a crow—Harrington!  Wait!” Billy cawed, flying after him.  “Wait, you can’t go in there—”

Steve ignored him, dodging around the stone figures on the road as he ran back to the castle.  “Be quiet,” he told Billy.  “He’ll never know we’re here.”

“It doesn’t matter about the eclipse, we can’t use it,” Billy croaked, swooping at his head.  “Go back!  Go back—”

“It matters for you,” Steve said, dodging, and running through the gates.  He tried not to look at his friends, the stone guardsmen on either side of the gates.

 Billy was silent by the time they found Robin, lying on her back on the battlements, singing a sad little song.  “Magician,” she hissed, and Steve yelped “Steve Harrington!  Steve Harrington!” as he dove back into the tower.

“Ah,” she said.  “Come out, then.  Where have you been?”

“We need your help,” Steve told her.  “Or Billy will never see the sun as a human again.”

“Billy Hargrove,” she said, tonelessly, and Steve nodded, staring her down.  After a while, she breathed out a curling, trailing plume of smoke.  “You could die.”

“I know,” Steve said, shrugging a little.  He dreaded the idea of trying to help Billy live his daily life as a crow, all the while watching him grow angrier.

“Don’t do this for me,” Billy croaked softly.  “Wait it out.  Wait for help, Harrington—”

“I was thinking Robin could tear the grate off,” Steve told them.  “Climb in the way we escaped.  It’s not that narrow.”

“Hrm,” she said.  “Billy?”

“...here,” he cawed.

“What are your thoughts?”

“Sit on your guardsman until help comes,” he said.  “He’ll be unhappy living as a dog at night, but he’ll be alive.”

“...a dog,” she said.

“A beagle,” Billy agreed.  

“We can’t break the curse unless he sees us both human, in two days,” Steve told her, scratching Billy absently.  Having a hand on Billy was habit, after so long, and it was bittersweet thinking of him uncursed, with no need of Steve to read books for him.

“...a beagle,” Robin said, with a suspiciously amused rumble in her voice, and Steve sighed.  

Every morning, Billy braced himself—no matter what pose he was in as a human, the daily transformation into a bird always left him in midair, squawking indignantly.  Robin laughed and laughed, big steaming tears running down her scaley cheeks.

“I wonder if you can be turned back,” Steve said aloud, as they roasted a deer she’d caught, later that day.

“I don’t mind either way,” she said, letting fire flicker between her teeth.

 The day of the eclipse, Robin yanked the grate off like it was soft clay.  They burst into the dungeons to find the Court Magician nearly unconscious with thirst, and Robin ripped the bars away and stood with one foot crushing the man’s head into the floor as he blearily regarded Billy and Steve.  When the eclipse ended, Steve grabbed Billy’s hands and kissed him, laughing and crying with relief, but Billy was tense against him.

“I’m turning myself in, then,” he told Robin, squeezing Steve’s hand.

“To what?” she asked cheerfully, stomping on the magician’s kneecap as he screamed.  “Turn them all back,” she said, and he moaned, trying to curl into a ball.

“I’m turning myself in to you,” Billy said again, his voice dull.  “To the captain of the guard.”

“Nonsense,” Robin said, lifting the magician’s head with her enormous talons, and pointing him at various stone rats that swelled, and groaned, and returned to being people.  Two dried puddles of pudding grew out of the floor, and Steve heaved a sigh of relief.  “You two saved the kingdom,” Robin said.  “You’re heroes.”

“What,” Billy said, and Steve kissed him again, squeezing him around the shoulders as hard as he could.  It felt good to hold him.  “No, what,” Billy whispered, bewildered, his voice hoarse as a crow’s.

“It’s over,” Steve told him, kissing him again, gentler this time, and Billy relaxed into it with a shuddery sigh, closing his eyes.

“Thank god you can stop licking me,” he muttered, and Steve stuck his tongue in Billy’s ear.  

Billy squawked.

[anika-ann]

Attached - Pt.1

The Words of Doom

Type: (mini)-series, college AU, professor AU (technically)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 1880

Summary for the series: You messed up. Your very sleep-deprived Self attached the wrong document when emailing a professor and sent him one of the stories you wrote instead of an assignment. It should be embarrassing, really, but it wasn’t. It was worse.

Why did it have to be the smutty one? Why did it have to be the one starring his best friend, Professor Rogers? You were so screwed.

Aka the ‘you sent the wrong attachment to hot professor A that just happens to be about his friend hot professor B and now professor A is not able to look at professor B without wheezing in laughter anymore and you are unable to look at either of them’ AU

Warnings: swearing, literally one mention of a possible daddy kink, double entendre

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Your eyes felt like on fire, burning hotter than the sun above Sahara Desert; the metaphor your sleep-deprived mind came up with was only perfected by the huge dunes of the bags under your eyes.

You were running on disgustingly strong coffee and three energy drinks, but you summoned the rest of your strength and clicked on ‘send’, slumping so heavily into your chair that when your back hit the backrest, it almost toppled over—but never mind, you made it!

Penny, your gracious roommate, would inform you that had you started earlier and were writing the actual essay instead of wasting words on steamy stories that somehow filled the desired wordcount with considerably less effort, you wouldn’t have been turning into a zombie sending assignments several minutes before eight a.m., the actual deadline.

Yeah, well, sue me, I prefer romance to the World War II., no matter how important history is.

You were certain Professor Barnes would understand if you told him that anyway – he was a pretty easy-going guy for a scholar after all. Then again, you sure as hell didn’t want to test the theory out and so you tended to hand in your homework perhaps ‘minute to midnight’, but still in time.

You grinned as you checked the sent e-mail, proudly reading it had been sent at 7:56. You mentally patted your back, not having the energy to actually move to do that.

And then your Sahara-dry eyeballs fell lower on the screen and you let out a shriek of horror.

Your heart stopped in your chest before kicking in faster than it had been pumping after three Red Bulls.

The attachment.

Oh no.

OH FUCK, the attachment!

Now, it happened on occasion that people forgot to attach the files they spoke of in an e-mail, right? Sometimes shit like that happened.

But this… this was so, so much worse.

“Oh no,” you uttered under your breath, shooting up and suddenly sitting with back straight as a ruler just to look at the screen from shorter distance to-- nope, still there. “Oh fuck.”

You quickly scrambled to send another e-mail with similar text but the right file, along with a swift apology.

Sent 7:59.

You should be relieved. Perhaps Professor Barnes would notice the correct one first and automatically deleted the one that obviously must have been wrong.

So why couldn’t you find it in you to think you would have such luck?

At least if he opened the wrong document, he would understand very quickly that it was not what he had asked the students to do and would delete it before diving in fully, right?

But a worm of doubt – or intuition, whatever you wanted to call it – told you that it wouldn’t be the case.

You covered your mouth with your palms and screamed at the top of your lungs.

Penny, sleep-deprived considerably less than you because she was an actual responsible human being, walked from her room to the bathroom and blatantly ignored you, probably thinking you had missed the deadline by a minute and were now freaking out.

Oh, you wished.

“Pennyyyyyyyyy!” you cried out in a whiny tone, but she clicked the door shut as if nothing was happening. As if your whole life wasn’t in shambles because of one single e-mail. “Penelope, you get your ass back here! I need to know how to switch schools without having to repeat a year!”

Her wild black curls peeked from the bathroom, followed by an annoyed sleep-raspy voice. “Why? You accidently called Barnes a daddy in your message or somethin’?”

Your heart was still beating its way out of your chest, a low ominous hum in your ears. Gods above, you wished. Still would be easier to explain, like… you could claim it was a dare or something.

No, this was much, much worse.

Penny, apparently taken aback by the lack of your response, left the safety of the bathroom and approached your lair (probably stinking of sugary drinks and caffeine) and peeked over your shoulder, searching an explanation for your antics.

You only gulped, moved the cursor to the title of the document you had sent in your first e-mail and closed your eyes, actually feeling tears of humiliation stinging in them.

The silence that followed spoke volumes until-

“OH SHIT.”

You had just shared your smutty one-shot with your history professor, but that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that it was starring his rumoured one and only best friend he shared an office with. One who had acted like a substitute for two weeks when Professor Barnes got a particularly bad case of cold, but wouldn’t leave you without a lecture. Needless to say, Professor Rogers had also starred several of your steamy dreams after that and became a source of inspiration for your occasional writing streaks.

And now your history professor could read all about it and, god forbid, share it with the man who was the template of the main character of the story. You weren’t dumb; you alternated the names, just in case of you didn’t even know what (and it might have made you feel better about writing filthy stuff about a prof), but you went with the same looks including hair and skin colour, hairstyle, Rogers’ glorious beard and you certainly didn’t omit his surprisingly ripped body.

So, yeah. Penny’s ‘OH SHIT’ was pretty accurate.

You were so screwed.

Yes, once again, you wished.

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You had handed in your work on Friday morning and had been jittery all weekend, practically unable to focus on any of the studying you desperately needed to do. Normally, you might write some comforting piece to relieve your frustration, but that was not an option right now as simply opening a text editor gave you palpitations.

The all-nighter you had pulled didn’t exactly help your already non-existent ability to get your head on straight either.

You were looking forward to Monday and dreaded it at the same time – Professor Barnes was to give your assignments back with a mark and commentary. You were praying for Monday to come already, because you just needed to know the consequences of your actions. You were freaking out about Monday for very obvious reasons.

You had no idea what was happening in your first Monday class. Your lunch consisted of half bottle of coke.

And now here you were, seated in the second row of three, because that seemed like the safest place, a seat where Barnes couldn’t approach you from any angle.

When he entered the class, you decided to stubbornly watch the desk in front of you. Under any circumstances, you would not make eye-contact, wouldn’t raise your gaze. There was no fucking way anything would force you look his in the eye.

Or you thought so.

You hadn’t realized he would call out each of your names and would say the necessary commentary about doing well, missing something, excellent work, this one feeling a bit sloppy… out loud, which would made it truly impolite to keep staring ahead. With each work sent through the sea of people to hand it to those in the second row, your stomach was turning heavier, your heart beating faster.

And then Professor Barnes said your name and you winced in your seat, squeezing your eyes shut on instinct, the childish if I can’t see you, you can’t see me either kicking in.

He called out your name again as if there was a chance you missed it the first time and with a huge lump of panic in your throat, you blinked your eyes open and raised your gaze, only to meet his neutral face with just the tinniest twitch to the corners of his lips and a barely visible twinkle to his eye.

Your stomach dropped to the floor, your face burning with embarrassment and humiliation.

He held out the papers to the person in the first row in front of you, whose name you didn’t care for at the moment, and nodded his head.

“Not bad at all,” he said and that was the end of it.

Your essay landed in front of you and you finally breathed in properly, your hand trembling slightly as you noticed the circled B+ in the corner.

You were deaf to his next words, your heart jumping as you read the note by the mark.

B for the cliché used, + for the originality.

Huh. What a strange way to word an evaluation… but hey, you wouldn’t complain. For one, no one had filled a harassment complaint for your stupid ass so far and you had written this shit during an all-nighter and still got B+. This was the best outcome you could hope for; Barnes didn’t even give you shit about your... error.

A smile slowly found a way to your lips, a shy little thing, but definitely present, your mimic muscles, so stiff from trying to keep a poker face, relaxing.

You browsed over the other notes in red ink scattered over the pages, some sentences and phrases unlined and commented on, sometimes corrected, sometimes complimented to.

It wasn’t until you reached the red note that had one word from it actually crossed out and replaced.

Really hits the spot mark.

Your smile froze on your lips, your heart ceased to beat before kicking in with furious pace, loud pounding humming in your temples.

Oh god. Oh no.

Hitting a spot? He could have written it was ‘spot on’ or that it ‘hit the mark’… he made the mistake deliberately, you were certain of it – all of his other notes were so neat and thought through-

You checked the individual notes, your stomach twisting when you re-read them in a new light.

Nearly all the wording he had used was referencing to your… special assignment you had handed in.

Oh god, please, let the lightning hit me. Let the floor swallow me. Let the cardiac arrest momentarily trying to kill me actually kill me.

Interesting work for certain with a winky face?! Really? That would be innocent enough on its own, but it was feeling like a conspiratorial wink. The I know more than I let on and you know what I’m talking about wink.

The next one was a blatant double-entendre and you could bang your head against your desk for not realizing it first time reading it. Good writing, nice flow, clearly heading to the climax.

Your face was set aflame once more and despite your better judgement, you glanced at the professor momentarily showing whatever in his presentation.

He caught your gaze and had the audacity to wink.

You snapped your head away and silently whined, sliding down your chair nearly enough to lie on the floor.

OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.

Why did it have to be the smutty one you sent? Why couldn’t it be a cute one at least? You had loads of those! Why did it have to be the one about Steven damn Rogers, his friend?

Why, just WHY?!

Professor Barnes had definitely read it. And for some reason, you had a hunch that he had showed it to his friend slash colleague he shared an office with too.

You whined some more and pretended that this day was the apocalypse and that you would never have to face either of the professors ever again.

Of course, you could not have such luck.

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Part 2

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

There it is! Shorter chapter for starters. Just you wait ;)

I’m pretty sure something like this have been written before, but plot bunnies are little shits that refuse to leave no matter how much you kick them and beg them to go away.

I blame @pies-writes-and-more @kayteewritessteve and @queen-kass-the-writer for supporting bad behaviour, but they are not the only ones. You know who you are, don’t YOU? I am a weak human being and you are corrupting me. Thanks, sweeties ;)

Thank you for reading! 

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Tags: @scentedsongrebel @patzammit @donutloverxo @annathesillyfriend  @orions-nebula @iheartsebastianstan @wxstedhexrt

If anyone wants on the taglist or out, lemme know via DM or an ask :)

-.-.-

ALSO. A friend of mine created a perfect artwork for this chapter/series and I wanted to share 😍🥰🤩:

Thank you, @chase-your-dreams-away 🥺

[forever-rogue]

Javi or Din: You are getting propositioned by someone, but you've never been good with conflict when people get pushy with you. So our man steps in.

I had to go with Javi because...well, it’s Javi. So here we are. Enjoy some...protective Javi.

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was the sticky warmth of the Colombian morning that had prompted you to wear a dress to work. Normally, you wouldn’t opting for either a pant or skirt suit, which had been dubbed as much more professional by the ambassador. Of course, it didn’t matter to her; she had proper heating and cooling in her office. You were resigned to the sometimes working, hardly circulating monstrosity of an air conditioner that served the back of the embassy.

Working with the crime investigation team was not glamorous work by any means. It was a load of hours, early mornings that stretched into late evenings, but you liked your job. Most women would not; hell, most people would not. It was dirty work, work that often pulled at your heartstrings, but someone had to do it. You figured it might as well be you.

But you often found solace in one of the few people you considered a friend, a true friend, not just a work friend: one Javier Peña. He’d come to Colombia at the same time as you, and despite his sometimes off putting personality, and gruff world view, he was nice...kind. He didn’t treat you like just another woman like many of the others did. He treated you like an equal, and despite working your ass off every day, for years, proving yourself over and over again, he was one of the people that did. Him, and his partner Murphy. They were good men, despite their flaws.

A few beads of sweat dripping down the valley of your breasts pulled you back into reality as you grabbed a few papers and started fanning yourself. The cooling system must have gone completely rogue and decided to quit working. You were half tempted to do the same. Instead, you slumped in your chair and pulled a stack of paperwork towards, opting to do whatever required the minimal effort. It was Friday, and you were hoping, at this rate anyway, that you could maybe try and sneak out early and head to the lake to go for a swim and cool off.

Tapping your pen thoughtfully against your lip, you were so lost in thought that you didn’t even notice Javi walked in and setting something down in front of you. He waved his hand in front of your face, clearing his throat before almost snorting with laughter, “buenos días, senorita.”

“Javi,” you jumped a little bit as you turned to him; he was watching you with a bemused expression and you couldn’t fight the smile that crossed your features. If you were going to be startled and pulled out of your daydreams, it might as well be at the hands of handsome man. And Javi was no exception especially today - he’d opted for a snug fitting black button up and what were probably his tightest jeans. It was a lot to be sure and you tried not let your eyes lingers anywhere for too long. He’d catch on in a heartbeat and never let you live it down, “good morning.”

“Peso for your thoughts?” he pushed a cup of coffee and a muffin closer to you. It was a Friday tradition that you both relished; he’d come into your office at the end of the week to bring you a sweet treat. To start the weekend properly he liked to insist with a wink.

“Hmm,” you grabbed the muffin and took a bite. It was filled with poppy seeds and fresh blueberries, “just thinking about how I can sneak out early today. I was thinking about going to the lake for a swim. It’s stiffling.”

“Good luck with that,” he snorted and you shrugged, “you can always come and work in our office today. It’s much cooler...I could use the company. Murphy’s off in his own little world today.”

“As tempting as that is, I should stay here. I actually need to focus and get work done,” you insisted. If you went with Javi, you’d both end up goofing off and get little else accomplished, “but I appreciate the offer.”

“Suit yourself,” he gave your desk a small knock before turning to leave and start his down day, “you know where to find me if you change your mind.”

“Thank you, Javi,” you called after him as you grabbed the coffee and took a sip, immediately regretting your decision. It was almost scalding hot still, and didn’t help to cool you down. Maybe you could let it sit for a while before chugging it to get the little buzz that caffeine afforded you.

“Hey...ugh,” Javi turned back to you just before he stepped out. You turned to him and raised and eyebrow, urging him to go on, “do you...we’re going for a drink after work, do you want to come with us?”

“Who is we?”

“Me, Murph...some of the other guys,” he volunteered and you cringed a little bit. You’d easily have said yes if it was only going to be him and Murphy...but the rest of the crowd? That gave you a moment of hesitation; just because Javi and his partner would be decent, it didn’t mean that the rest of them would be.

“I dunno,” you shrugged, gnawing on your bottom lip, “it’s just...”

“I know,” he finished for you, “but it’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll talk to the guys...and if anything, you’ll have me and Murph.”

“Okay,” you agreed with a small nod. If nothing else, you’d be able to sneak out and head off on your own. Most of the men would probably be drunk enough after a few drinks and they probably wouldn’t even notice you sneaking away. Who knows...maybe they would even be tolerable.

“Great!” his eyes lit up as he grinned at you, “I’ll see you after work then...and in the meantime, the offer still stands.”

“Bye Javi,” you shook your head at him, turning back to your own work, a vain attempt at focusing. You knew this would be on your mind for the rest of the day; you always did love spending any time with him that you could, “get going and do some work.”

“On a Friday?!”

“Javier-”

“Fine mija,” he sighed dramatically; his use of his little pet name for you did not fall on deaf ears, “see you later....nice dress by the way. It looks good.”

“It was just so hot, the idea of pants almost killed me...”

“Either way, it’s nice,” he insisted. Was that a light blush creeping into his cheeks? You didn’t notice, too busy trying to keep the flush on your own face from being too apparent, “I mean you always look nice...pretty...it’s just different. But not in a bad way - not that I stare...it doesn’t matter what you wear, you’re always-”

“Javi?”

“Hmm?”

“Get to work,” you kept your face trained on your papers, biting the inside of your cheek so hard you were surely drawing blood. Was he nervous? Had you actually caused serial womanizer Javier Peña to get anxious and nervous around you? Cherish the thought. He nodded before disappearing for real this time, leaving just you to remain in the stuffy office. The words in front of you quickly became a blur as your attention was anywhere on work. How were you supposed to focus when the only thought in your brain was Javi, Javi, Javi?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Your evening out with the crew from work had proven to be...not nearly as unpleasant as you’d anticipated. Maybe your worries had been for nothing? Maybe it was because you remained more or less silent, offering only a few words here and there throughout the conversation. Maybe it was the fact that you were nestled between Javi and Steve, almost as if they were some of sort of buffer, silently protecting you from any unpleasantness. Maybe it was because everyone was in a decent mood and just wanted a nice evening out.

Whatever the reason was, you weren’t going to question it; instead you found yourself having a decent time, nursing a few cool beers in the balmy evening as the men around you chattered away. they were worse than women sometimes, you were sure of it, but they would never agree with you.

Eventually, after throwing back your fair share of alcohol, you’d decided it was time to make your way back home. You didn’t want to stay and risk getting too drunk; you’d hate yourself in the morning as it took the whole weekend to recover. You’d hate yourself even more if you continued to drink, lost your inhibitions and inadvertently confessed your feelings to Javi. You could live with a lot...but that? You weren’t so sure.

“Hey,” you leaned into Javi’s warm body, desperately not trying to get too lost in his scent as you clambered for his attention, “I’m going to head home, okay?���

“I’ll go with you,” it was an immediate, insistent statement. But you gave his forearm a squeeze and shook your head, “mija, let me come with you, it’s late and it’s dark.”

“I’m a big girl,” you promised, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t relent, “besides, I’m almost completely sober by now. I just want to get home to bed so I can up early and go on a run and to the lake-”

“Who the fuck does that on a weekend-”

“Good night, Javi,” you grabbed your purse and stood up, giving him a soft smile, and offering Steve the same. You wanted to stay, hells, half of you was tempting to remain anyway, but you knew the responsible thing was to leave and stay in the clear. You turned to the rest of the table and gave them a small wave, “goodnight everyone. Have a good weekend.”

You received a few replies and waves in response before heading out of the crowded bar. It was stuffy and warm again, and you were glad that the fresh air of the outside would provide some sort of relieve.

Letting out a long sigh as you reached the street, you quickly oriented yourself before starting to walk in the direction of the apartment complex you shared with Steve and Javi. You’d walked to work that morning, hoping it would somehow be cooler than driving (you had been sorely mistaken), and then gotten a ride from Javi after work. Maybe you should have let him take you home...but a quiet walk alone might be nice too. The streets were almost empty, and if worst came to absolute worst, you had a gun on you. You were a surprisingly good shot, despite how little the men you worked with thought of you.

You’d made it about halfway down the block when you heard a pair of heavy footsteps behind you, followed up a shout of your name. You stopped, turning around curiously but relaxed when you noticed that it was just Williams, one of the many men that had been on your little outing. You wondered what he could want - maybe you’d just forgotten something?

“Hey...what’s up?” you immediately regretting your decision as he closed the distance between your bodies and had you trapped between him and the dirty stone wall of the bar. Trying to remain calm, you swallowed the lump in your throat, “w-what are you doing?”

“Just came to make sure you were okay to go home,” his words were slurred as he brought his face closer to yours. His breath was laced with alcohol and he brought a hand to your face, touching your cheek, “looks like you could use a little company.”

Glancing around the street, you were annoyed now that there was no one around. Perhaps then someone would help you. You tried to square your shoulders, making yourself appear more confident, “you need to stop. I am okay to go home. But you need to get back inside and get a ride home.”

“Come on, little one,” he was so close that you turned your face, keeping your eyes squeezed shut and hoping he would go away, “you can’t come dressed like that and not want it. Look at you, you look like one of the whores that Peña’s so fond of fucking.”

“You need to stop,” you repeated firmly, trying to push him away. But he was large, and could easily overpower you if need be. He just laughed at your weak attempt, “Williams, let me go and go back inside.You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Come on,” he slurred, trying to kiss, but you were able to dodge his lips, “just give us a kiss. Just a little one.”

“Stop.”

“Why? Don’t you want some fun?” he was getting angrier and your heart was racing rapidly. You were afraid it might leap out of your chest at this rate.

“No.”

“Why not? You fuck Peña all the time, might as well share with everyone else,” you were as angry as you were scared. You’d always figured that people might have that notion, but it had never really bothered you; you knew the truth and that was what mattered.

Before you could say anything else, he was pulled back and you were free from his entrapment. Opening your eyes, you quickly saw Javier standing there, a livid expression on his face as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

“You better get the fuck back inside before I go something you will not like,” he was glowering daggers at the man on the ground. Before he could respond, Javi quickly bent down and punched him a few times, and a sickening crack ran through the night air. The man groaned lightly but Javi didn’t care, “if I ever, ever, see you near her again, I will not hesitate to kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

The man let out a string of unintelligible sounds before dragging himself away and stumbling to his feet. He looked a sight, but you didn’t care. You were just glad to be safe.

“J-Javi,” you turned to him, noticing that his hand was already turning a few shades of blue and purple, “you’re hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted quietly, wiping  his bloody hand on his pants, “are you okay? Did he touch you? Hurt you?”

“No,” you hadn’t realized that a few tears had run down your cheeks. Javi didn’t hesitate to wipe them away, his touch gentle as ever. You gave him a small, weak little smile before he pulled you into his arms, “thank you, Javi. But how did you know...”

“I just had a feeling,” he wrapped his arms around you gently kissed the crown of your head, “I’m glad I did. Mija...don’t listen to him. I know you won’t but...you don’t look anything like he said. You look gorgeous, and I’d never...”

“I know,” you promised, pulling back and giving him a small nod, “he’s an idiot and he’s drunk, and I don’t know what I’d have done without you. I just...panicked.”

“It’s okay,” he promised, “you’re safe. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Thank you,” it was an almost pathetic sound, but you were glad to have him there. Who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t shown up in time, “can you...take me home? That is, unless you want to stay...”

“No,” he promised gently, reaching for his keys and leading you back towards his car, “let me take you home. I want you safe and sound.”

“Thank you, Javi,” he opened the door to the passenger and helped you inside, despite you not needing the help. In the moment you appreciated it. He got into the driver’s side and started the car, letting it roar to life. You sat there in comfortable silence for a few moments, both of you coming down from the adrenaline of the moment.

“You still planning on that run and swim tomorrow?” he asked suddenly and you shrugged. It somehow...had lost its appeal in the moment. He turned to you, putting his hand on your leg and giving it a reassuring squeeze, “if you’d like the company, I’d be happy to go with you.”

“Really?” you asked quietly, and despite everything you were feeling, a small smile worked its way onto your face, “you don’t have to come just because you’re worried and think I’m going to be this scared little girl now...”

“I want to come,” he promised. He’d be happy to watch paint dry or grass grow if it meant he got to spend time with you, “if you’ll have me.”

“Yes,” you put your hand on top of his and gave it a light squeeze. He let out a small, content exhale before lacing his fingers through yours, “I’ll always have you, Javi.”

“I don’t know how much of this rise and shine and morning run bullshit I can do,” he chuckled as he started to drive, one hand on the steering well and the other with yours, “but I figure if it’s with you, it’s worth a try.”

“Yeah?”

“Always.”

[sonid6699]

Time travels back to the start by SONid6699

Leipzig, Germany, 2016

"Underoos"

Suddenly a figure in cladded in red and blue leaped out of nowhere and stole Captain's shield, and landed in the most superhero pose ever.

"Hey everyone!!!"

"Nice job kid."

"Thanks well I could have stuck the landing a little better it's just a new suit"

Everyone was looking at the red cladded person "Underoos" as Tony had called him with curiosity and annoyance but the look on Tony's 'I am so done with it' face made him backtrack his statement.

"What it's nothing just a new suit. What. It's nothing Mr. Stark it's perfect thank you"

"Yeah don't really need to start a conversation"

"Cap-Captain big-"

Suddenly his spider sense tingled. Well tingled is a small word, it felt like his senses went overdrive. As if they were screaming at him for an upcoming threat.

Stopping his ramble mid way he observed the airport. The need to find what triggered his senses at such a level was vital. He found nothing.

"Underoos. What are you doing there's nothing over there. Roger is here in the front." Now Tony was getting annoyed and for the tenth time he questioned himself that whether he did the right thing or not by bringing a kid to this fight.

"Something is happening!!!"

"What do you mean something is happening ki-"

"Mr. Stark? I don't feel so good…. "

The tremble and fear in his voice settled a suffocating silence over the airport. All the avengers and non-avengers were trying to identify the actions behind those words but no avail.

Tony definitely did not like where this was going. Somehow he had a bad feeling about it in his gut. "Kid are you alright?" he asked in surprisingly calm voice.

"I don't know… I don't know whats happening…."

Terror invaded in everyone's heart as suddenly the kid fell on his knees the shield long forgotten fell on the ground with a clank. The scream that came next was terrifying.

"aaaahhhh… Aaaaahhhhh……… ItIt….. It… Hu…..hurts!!!!"

By this time even Sam, Barnes, Wanda and Clint had came out of wherever they were hidden to watch the commotion.

"Roos you have to tell us what's going on."

Whatever Mr. Stark was saying fell deaf to Peter's ears. He was terrified. He thought he knew what pain was but this was offwordly. He can't help the scream that escaped his lips. "aaagghh… He..help...it hu.. Hur-"

Silence. Pin drop silence covered the airport for the second time this day. Everyone's face displayed all the emotions. Sympathy, horror, astonishment, pained, terrified…….. No one knew what to say as the kid's body disintegrated into dust. Tha dust that had now flew away with the wind.

Natasha broke the silence "What the fuck!!!!"

Steve collected his composure "Tony I know we aren't on good terms but…But for the sake of God please tell us it was one of the kids trick or your plan to stop us. That the kid disintegrating into fucking dust was all planned."

Tony didn't know what to say. He can't even believe what had happened." Cap do I look like i know what's going on." He was angry know. He knew that he was desperate to stop them and take them into custody but he wasn't that inhuman that he would willing allow a kid to suffer from… Whatever just happened. "And I… don't know ok!!!! As far as I am aware this ain't in his skill set!!!!!"

"Tony I.. Didn't mean it like that. Listen-"

"Can you both fight later and discuss what the hell happened!!" Rhodey cut both of them.

Sam knew he will be seeing weird things once he joined cap but this was on another level. "Guy's listen-"

He abruptly stopped as suddenly the ash that once had fallen started integrating again taking the form of a human body. The kid's body he realized. The formation was as scary as the disintegration.

Looks like he wasn't the only one paying attention as everyone held thier weapons against…… Whatever the hell they are going to face.

¤¤¤¤¤¤

He falls on the ground, pain tearing through every cell, every atom of his body. He can still feel the pain of being torn from its neighbour and sent drifting out into space. He could still feel the pain of his atom binding together, again, and it hurt but the pain was receding. That was good he thought. He was still coughing, body still shaking, weakened due to his unplannes excursion. He was vaguely aware of being held at gun point.

"Ow" he rasped. "I am not a threat. Please…… Not a terrorist. Lower the weapons….. Please……The trial is complete I am innocent. Mysterio and Beck…… Everything was a fucking lie…. ''

Silence laid heavily on surroundings. Not even a whisper disturbing the air.

Odd. Nothing had been this overwhelmingly quiet since he’d been bit by the spider; he could always hear, see, or at least smell something. It was a bit disconcerting, though not entirely unwelcome. Sometimes he really missed having normal senses. The last time this happened was his fucking trial. Being on trial with a shock that disabled his powers was something he didnot want happening. again.

Cutting himself off from that train of thought, Peter realized he should probably try and figure out what the hell was going on and why he was he was experiencing the pain of atoms binding together again rather than be at Ned's funeral. Which he can finally go now since his name was cleared. Realizing his mind was getting off track again, Peter squinted open his eyes.

Get back on track, Parker. He reprimanded himself.

What he was met with when he eventually cracked open his eyes, however, was a dim, shimmering wall of scarlet red (which was not on the list of what he was expecting to see but it wasn’t a bad thing, either). He carefully peeled his eyes fully open, ready to slam them shut again in case the authorities didn't get the memo that he was not a terrorist.

Everything slowly came into focus, and he rapidly sat up, turning in a full circle. "What-" he breathed out. The red dissipated into whisps, and he was face to face with people who had been either dead or who had abandoned him since the funeral.

The Scarlet Witch stared him in the face, eyes returning to a normal murky brown rather than a vibrant red. Peter realized that she had trapped him in what could be described as a... bubble? with her powers so he wasn't disturbed as he regained his senses.

And as Peter spun around yet again, breathing picking up in panicked breaths, he recognized his surroundings.

Around him were the Avengers, every one of them.

He was back at the airport battle in Leipzig.

¤¤¤¤¤¤

Peter's eyes locked on Mr. Stark's, chest heaving, and he immediately thought back to the last time he'd seen the man. Alive.

We won. You did it sir. We won Tony.

Mr. Stark looked confused, eyes raking over Peter's form, clad in a red and black suit with a metallic silver spider sprawled in the middle of his chest.

"Peter?" the man asked, taking a step towards the boy, and that was all he needed to bolt away from everyone. Well in the centre as everyone seemed to be circling him. The reason unknown.

It took him a couple of minutes to arrive at the conclusion that Beck was alive. It was all his game. His fucking plan to fuck with him even more when everything was finally going to be as normal as possible. But no!!! His Peter Tingle™ had to betray him again.

Fury and rage filled him as he spoke. "What the fuck Beck. How can you be so cruel. Wasn't london enough. Want to fuck with me and my mind even more. With what the battle of airport. THIS TIME YOU CAN'T FOOL. I WON'T LET YOU. I DEFEATED YOU ONCE BEFORE. AND I WILL IN EVERY HELL DO IT AGAIN. THIS TIME I WON'T FALL IN YOUR ILLUSIONS YOU ASSHOLE"

By the time he was finished he was breathing heavily. His mind wandered to that one question again and again. How did Beck and his crew got the airport's battle. There was no footage in public media and after London he himself strengthened Stark Industries server.

"Underoos, what-" Mr. Stark said, cutting himself off as he took in the sight of Peter again.

Black and red metallic suit. Eyes filled with rage and fury. But their was hollowness in them like the kid had gone through hell. And London? Beck? Mysterio? Illusions?

"Kid I-"

"Stop!!!!!"

Peter said. No roared. Tony definitely never thought he could piss someone this much in such a short time.

"This is ridiculous" Peter yells ignoring all the looks he was getting. Ignoring the was his heart shattered upon seeing Beck using Mr. Stark's face, again to lure him into his trap.

"Peter it's me Ton-"

"Tony Stark is dead. Has been dead for a fucking whole year. Today is his death anniversary." Peter yells the illusion freezes. "I mourned him. For a whole fucking year. I went to his mother fucking funeral. I met his daughter. Do you really think I am that gullible!"

All the illusions looks confused froze In their spot. Mr. Stark no the illusion rasped "What!"

Peter turns his eyes stinging with tears, pain, exhaustion, rage. He just wanted this to end for good and for forever.

"You want a battle let's have one. And this time do not forget that you can't fool me into thinking you are dead. This time I myself will depart you to Raft."

With that he launched in attack webbing fake-Tony's hands and body to floor along with fake-cap. Disabling fake-Sam's wing and weaving him and Barnes together in a cacoon. He was fast like a shadow.

Suddenly he dodged the cars that fake-Wanda was throwing his way. Immediately webbing her hands up with the strongest webbing he had to disable her hand. This way she won't be able to to conjure magic. All the while dodging repulsor blasts from Fake-Colonel.

Again he dodged the punch fake-T'challa was gonna give and weaved him, fake-Clint and fake-Colonel similar to fake-Sam and fake-Barnes.

What he wasn't prepared was the blast from infinity stone and the sparring from Fake-Natasha.

After dodging and attacking what felt lIke eternity he was defeated. Fake-Natasha had won. But how? He didn't knew Beck's crew had such a skilled fighter. How the Blasts from fake-infinity stone seemed real. His body was aching. He wanted to rest. And he will after he capture Beck.

He tried getting out of her and Fake-Vision's hold but "You can't get out my Peter. Not until you tell us what the you did… You are doing. I thought you were on Stark's side against Cap? And who is Beck? What illusions are you talking about?" Fake-Natasha threatened very…… calmly.

"You of all people know Beck what you are doing" Peter choked. But his mind was just getting confused. The last Beck himself accepted that it was all an illusion. Had he changed tactics?

"Kid! Roos what are talking about? This is real everything is real. Their are no illusions kid." fake-Tony said.

By this time Peter had long given up on fighting instead he was waiting for the families Peter Tingle to tingle. To sense where drones could be. But his senses….. Were calmed. As if he wasn't in middle of illusions and drones. It was wrong. This was feeling real. Too much real.

"Pete-"

"Tell me a thing only my Mr. Stark would know. Something only between the two of us." He cut off fake-tony.

Tony was shocked seeing the kid's composure. The happy, bubby, nervous, like a lost puppy was gone. Instead in front of him was a kis who had suffered too much for his age. He thought of a thing only the kid and he would know."In your room you said 'If bad things happen. And you don't stop even if you have the ability then they happen because of you."

Peter's body went limp. No….. This can't happen. I know time travel is real but…… This can't happen……. Wait….. If I am back this means Mr. Stark isn't dead. He is alive and healthy.

"Mr. Stark????" He whispered. He was scared. What he isn't the real Mr. Stark. What if all this is just a dream just his imagination.

Even Natasha loosened her hold hearing the kid's scared and confused voice.

Peter immediately got out of Natasha's hold. And ran to where Mr. Stark was webbed up. He tore through the web using his super strength and hugged his Mr. Stark with all his force.

OK this wasn't what Tony expected. This kid was hugging him. Just a moment earlier he was fighting all of them and had almost defeated them and now he was hugging with such a force that he thought he might break his ribs.

"Kid-ouch easy" the hold loosened.

"You-you are alive"

Updated periodically on ao3. 4 chapters updated as of 13.5.21

[stevesnailbat]

realizations | steve harrington

REQUESTS USED:

hi love!! could you write a fluffy steve harrington x reader that takes place during season 2? like maybe she stays behind with the kids and steve when the others go to get the mindflayer out of will and seeing steve protect the kids just makes the reader realize she’s in love w/ him. i’ll leave the rest of the plot up to you, don’t feel any pressure to write it if you’re too busy or not inspired! thanks! 🦋💕

hi! could you write steve x fem!reader where she is waiting for him come back from his date and realizes how much she likes him? pls and thank u

warnings: none really?

word count: 2.0K

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Nothing felt okay, but it wasn’t like she could change what was happening. The world felt like it was falling apart as she sped through Hawkins in the dead of night with four kids packed into Billy Hargrove’s Camaro with a very unconscious Steve Harrington in the backseat. Pure chaos had ensued a few hours before, but there had been no time for her to process what was happening until this moment. Her eyes flickered to the rearview mirror occasionally, checking on Dustin as he tended to Steve’s battered face as a sinking feeling settled in her stomach.

What was it that she was feeling? She couldn’t decipher her emotions in the moment, couldn’t understand what the nauseousness she felt every time she looked at Steve actually meant. But there was no time for that, so she distracted herself by staring at the road in front of her.

A few groans came from the backseat and Dustin began to whisper something that she couldn’t decipher from the front seat, but she knew that Steve was waking up. She looked to Lucas, who sat in the passenger seat, to seek some kind of ease, but was only met with the same worried expression that she held. As expected, the boy in the backseat began to panic soon after, voice filled with terror as realization hit him.

She couldn’t focus on what was happening in the backseat as Lucas began to shout nonsense directions her way, telling her to turn into a field instead of onto a road. Still, she did what he said, because she was sure he knew more about the situation than she did. There was a collective scream that echoed through the car as she pulled the sharp left, followed by whines of pain as she brought the car to a halting stop.

Soon enough, they were all piling out of the car and grabbing their things from the trunk of the car. She looked over to Steve, seeing the utterly confused and upset look on his face as she put a bandana over her mouth for protection.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Steve demanded, watching as Mike walked towards the hole that seemed to lead straight to hell. “What are you, deaf? Hello? We are not going down there right now. I made myself clear.”

She looked to Steve once more, noticing each of the kids purposefully ignoring his protests as he grew angrier. There wasn’t much she knew about the situation, but she knew that Steve was only trying to protect them from the demodogs that they had ran into earlier in the day.

“Hey, there’s no chance we’re going into that hole, all right? This ends right now!” he exclaimed once more, only getting a reaction out of Dustin.

“Steve, you’re upset, I get it. But the bottom line is, a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance.” Dustin explained as Steve narrowed his eyes at the boy. “Now, I know you promised Nance that you would keep us safe. So, keep us safe.”

Begrudgingly, Steve followed them into the hole after pulling a bandana and goggles on. She watched as he dropped into the hole, following close behind him. She nearly tripped as she dropped down, but Steve caught her before she could fall to the vine-covered ground.

“Be careful, alright?” he said to her as he steadied her on her feet, voice muffled by the bandana around his face. “We don’t need you all beat up too, right?”

“Yeah, sorry.” she laughed bitterly, heart fluttering slightly as she could tell he was smiling under all of the protection.

They looked at each other for a fleeting moment, fear and wonder apparent in the air without saying a word. The kids were talking, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying over the sound of her own heartbeat. Sure, Steve had looked at her for longer than a second before, they were best friends for fucks sake. But, there was something hidden in the look that she couldn’t quite understand yet, and she knew she didn’t have the time to comprehend it. Before either of them could say anything to the other, Steve snapped his attention to the kids in front of them who were already navigating through the tunnel.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, hey, hey, hey. I don’t think so.” he called out, starting towards the front of the group as Mike questioned him. “Any of you little shits die down here, I’m getting the blame. Got it, dipshit? From here on out, I’m leading the way. Come on, let’s go.”

Minutes felt like hours as they trudged through the tunnels, a feeling of dread taking over while watching the kids struggle. The only thing she could seem to think of to distract herself was Steve and how he was leading them to this hub with damn near no fear, like he’d rather himself get hurt than any of the others. After a few minor complications, they reached what they were looking for, the hub. They drenched the area with gasoline, and Steve pulled his lighter from his pocket, flicking the top of it open. His eyes flickered to hers for a moment, full of fear as the flame started in his hands.

“I am in such deep shit.” he scoffed to her, throwing the lighter towards the gas-covered vines.

Steve pushed her and the kids in the other direction, trying to make it to the exit as quickly as possible. The rest of the time in the tunnels went by in an instant, her heart racing at a thousand miles a minute. When they got back to the hole, she nearly fell on top of Steve as she came up, but he caught her again.

“What’d I tell you about being careful?” Steve teased, an exhausted smile on his lips as he pulled his bandana off.

That day came and went slowly, but it was finally over, and that’s all she could ask for. Steve did everything in his power to protect her and the kids that day and she couldn’t get it out of her mind.

Weeks passed and things seemed to be getting back to normal. Her and Steve were back to being just best friends, not partners in fighting other-worldly monsters. They were back to telling each other everything, like the old times. But, something was different. Steve was still coping with losing Nancy during the whole mess, so he was a little more distant than before. She didn’t mind, though. She needed her own time do cope with the fact that life as she knew it had been changed forever. And, she needed her own time to deal with whatever she had felt that night when she saw Steve unconscious in the backseat of the Camaro.

“I think things are finally looking up again.” Steve said confidently to her over the phone one day.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” she asked with genuine curiosity, laughing to herself at Steve’s sudden optimism.

“I got a date for today, with Stacey Adams.” he said matter-of-factly, she could tell he was smiling through the phone, but her heart sunk as he spoke.

“Well that sounds—fun.” she said while cringing, trying to sound happy for him as she spoke. “We’re still having movie night tonight though, right? We always have movie nights on Sunday’s.”

“Of course! I planned it for during the day so I could still come over tonight.” he replied. “But, I gotta go get ready, alright? I’ll see you tonight at 7!”

Before she could respond, the line went dead with a dial tone. She let her hand fall slack, nearly dropping the phone as she did. Putting the phone up, she felt that sinking feeling settle into her stomach once more. The dull ache grew stronger as she moved to lie down on her back and stare at the ceiling.

It wasn’t until she heard Steve say that he was going out with someone else that she realized what she had been so worried about on that night when she saw her unconscious best friend in the backseat. She finally understood that she wanted to be something more than just a best friend to Steve Harrington, she wanted to be his. The sinking feeling in her stomach was heartache and love mixed together, for someone who had never shown any signs of either towards her.

The next five hours were spent by trying to fully comprehend her feelings and how she could tell him—or not tell him—about what was happening. She went back and forth between putting their friendship on the line by confessing everything to him and keeping it all bottled up for the rest of their lives.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a rapid knock on the front door that she recognized immediately, it was Steve. She put on a fake smile as she rushed to the front door, taking deep breaths to compose herself as she opened it. The look on Steve’s face was confusing to her, it wasn’t overly excited or overly upset.

“Hey, how was your date?” she blurted out, almost unable to stop her nosy thoughts as she let him in.

“It was okay.” he shrugged, shuffling into the living room with an unamused expression. “She was boring, all she wanted to do was gossip and I honestly couldn’t care less about any of the shit she was talking about.”

“Sounds like you’re never going to ask her out again, right?” she teased, hope creeping up in her as she spoke.

“Yeah, probably not.” he chuckled, plopping down on the couch. “I just—I don’t know what to expect from girls now, I guess? I have too high of standards, maybe.”

“Your standards are high after dating a girl who dumped you for the guy she told you not to worry about?” she implored, eyes narrowed as Steve rolled his eyes at her.

“No, not because of Nancy.” he sighed, voice wavering as he spoke, as if he was nervous about something.

“Then why do you think they’re so high?” she asked while searching through the TV stand cabinets for a movie, faced away from Steve to save herself from more heartbreak and unable to see him staring at her.

“Because the best person for me has been right in front of me forever, but I didn’t know how to tell her.” he said quickly, making her heart and the movie in her hands drop. “It took me going on a date with Stacey to realize that I’ve been right next to the right girl for me this whole time."

“Steve—“ she started, but couldn’t bring herself to finish as she processed what he had said.

“Yeah?” he said, almost regretting what he had said as she refused to look back at him. “Y’know, actually? Just—Just forget I said that, it was stupid.”

“No, it wasn’t stupid, Steve.” she said softly, finally daring to lock eyes with him; the look on his face was serious but more nervous than she had ever seen.

“You don’t think so?” he asked hopefully, watching as she walked towards the couch carefully.

“As long as you were talking about me, then yes. I don’t think it’s stupid.” she laughed, sitting down next to him. “I think I feel the same. Seeing you with those kids, putting your life on the line them so selflessly and seeing you protect us made me realize what I had been missing out on this whole time.”

“Well, in that case. I can finally do what I’ve been waiting to do all day.” he mumbled, inching his face dangerously close to hers.

There was only a small gap between them as she looked up at him, a smile on his lips as he looked at her lovingly. His lips were soft and the kiss was gentle, nothing like what she expected their first kiss to be like. It was almost calming, how sweet the kiss was. That sinking feeling that had settled in her stomach weeks before was finally all the way gone, she felt like she didn’t have anything to worry about anymore. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her best friend, but it was okay. Everything felt alright now.

tags: @sourapplebaby @harringtown @charmed-asylum @lemonypink @daddystevee @jxnehxpper @a-magey @igotmadskills @heart-eye-harrington @queenofthehairharrington

[tomeandflickcorner]

Falcon and Winter Soldier Episode 4- My Thoughts

Okay.  I have no idea what to expect now.  As always, spoilers under the cut.

This episode shook things up by starting off with a flashback, involving the time Bucky spent in Wakanda after the events of Civil War. It’s the moment where Shuri managed to remove the Winter Soldier programing from Bucky’s brain, and Ayo is personally performing a test to make sure the procedure was truly successful.  As many people have already discussed, this whole scene was masterfully done.  As Ayo is reciting the Winter Soldier Activation Words, Bucky’s utter fear of relapsing is tangible in his face and voice.  But as the test continues, the fear in Bucky’s face slowly is replaced by disbelief and elation.  Because he’s realizing the Winter Soldier Activation Words aren’t affecting him anymore.  But it’s not until Ayo directly tells him that he’s finally free that he fully lets himself believe it, and he breaks down crying from the joyful relief.  Anyone who tries to claim that Sebastian Stan isn’t a phenomenal actor has clearly never watched this scene.

Of course, this flashback ends up being immediately contrasted to the present day scene, where Ayo is confronting Bucky in Latvia over the issue of him helping break Zemo out of prison.  We saw in the flashback that Ayo was the one who personally tested Bucky to ensure he was freed from the Winter Soldier programing, which suggests they had a personal bond.  But now, that bond has been damaged because of the whole issue with Zemo.  I fully understand why Ayo is angry about this.  After all, she’s not only part of the Dora Milaje, but she’s the second in command of that band of elite warriors.  As such, her first priority will always be to Wakanda and it’s throne.  And we all remember that Zemo was directly responsible for the death of the late King T’Chaka, so it’s natural that he’d be considered their enemy.  Plus, while it’s been a while since I saw Civil War, I think it was Ayo who was supposed to be protecting King T’Chaka at the time of the UN bombing.  If it was, that would further explain why she’s so miffed, because she must feel like she’d failed in her duty to protect him because of Zemo’s actions. (And, in a way, Zemo’s actions in Civil War probably also led to the events of Black Panther.  Because without King T’Chaka’s death, there might not have been that power struggle between T'Challa and Killmonger.)   But now, Bucky assisted Zemo’s escape from prison.  The same Bucky who the people of Wakanda had taken in, cared for and helped get his life, identity and autonomy back.  Yeah, I can see why Ayo would take this personally.  Bucky  really should have checked in with them before doing what he did.  Granted it was a spur of the moment decision and he probably didn’t have the time to contact them in order to give them a heads up about it, but the point still stands.  Still, when Bucky explains he needs Zemo to finish his current mission in stopping the Flag Smashers, Ayo reluctantly agrees to give Bucky a mercy period of eight hours.  At which point the Dora Milaje will return in order to take Zemo into their custody.

After Ayo leaves, Bucky rejoins Sam and Zemo, and they begin discussing the issue of Karli and the Flag Smashers.  Sam says that he wants to try reasoning with Karli in order to come up with a peaceful solution.  Because he understands where she’s coming from in regards to how she clearly feels the world is not listening to her people and properly addressing their needs.  But he doesn’t agree with her methods of fighting.  Zemo, however, doesn’t think it’s possible to reason with Karli because of her taking the Super Soldier Serum.  His argument seems to be that everyone who has ever taken the Super Soldier Serum gets corrupted in some way.  The only exception to that rule was Steve Rogers, but Zemo points out there has never been another Steve.  (Interestingly, when he says this, the camera seems to focus on Sam.  I wonder if that was an intentional decision or just a lucky accident.)  And yes, they also don’t really acknowledge the fact that Bucky didn’t become a Super Soldier voluntarily.  Unlike Steve and the Flag Smashers, he wasn’t given a choice in the matter.  But I guess that’s beside the point.

To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what Zemo’s goal is right here.  Because he does seem to be sticking around with Sam and Bucky, even though he had a few chances to give them the slip.  But at the same time, this is still Zemo.  And he seems to have a major grievance against Super Soldiers and all enhanced individuals.  Which probably explains why he’s sticking around, considering the mission involves the Flag Smashers, who all injected themselves with the Super Soldier Serum.  But is he eventually planning to try and take down Bucky, too?  

In any event, the trio decide their best chance of getting Sam his opportunity of sitting down and talking with Karli is at the funeral of that woman who we saw die in the last episode.  Because this woman was apparently well-loved by the community.  (Side note, I shared Bucky’s confusion when Sam begin talking about his TT.  I have never heard that particular slang word for aunt before.  Is this a regional/cultural thing?)  They do manage to determine the location of this funeral thanks to Zemo, who manages to gain the trust of this one little girl by offering her some Turkish Delight. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe vibes aside, that was a pretty good idea.  I don’t even remotely like this guy, but I can admit he’s smart.  But them, when they’re on the way to the funeral, John Walker pops up, being his usual likable self.  He argues with Sam for a bit over Sam’s intention to try talking with Karli in the hopes of coming to a peaceful resolution, which contradicts with Walker’s plan of just apprehending her.  Thankfully, Lemar Hoskins is able to convince Walker to at least try giving Sam a chance.

After the funeral, Sam approaches Karli and begins to talk with her, utilizing his skills as a councilor and therapist of war vets.  And he’s actually starting to get through to her.  But then, Walker botches it all up.  Because he just couldn’t give Sam the ten minutes he requested and barges in to arrest her.  Which results in Karli thinking that the whole thing was just a setup and throwing all of Sam’s progress with her out the window.  Karli and the other Flag Smashers end up getting away, but in the process, Karli had a brief run-in with Zemo.  And their confrontation resulted in Karli accidently dropping the vials of Super Serum she’d been carrying around in her fanny pack.  Zemo, going along with his whole shtick of enhanced individuals must go, starts to destroy the vials.  But while he’s doing so, Walker comes up and knocks him out with the Shield.  And that’s when Walker sees that there’s only one vial of Super Serum remaining.  Unbeknownst to Sam and Bucky, he secretly ends up pocketing the vial before they arrive on the scene. 

Sometime later, they’re all back at that apartment(?) where Bucky, Sam and Zemo have been crashing in Latvia.  Walker decides enough is enough, and he’s going to return Zemo to his cell in Germany.  But that’s when Ayo and the other Dora Milaje appear. It seems that the eight hours that Ayo gave Bucky are up, and they’ve also come for Zemo.  Of course, Walker, being the arrogant moron he is, is rather dismissive towards the Dora Milaje, trying to claim that they don’t have jurisdiction there.  Which leads to Ayo stating her epic line, of how the Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever they are.

https://youtu.be/jG8u1UdD-T0

When Walker proceeds to neglect to show the proper respect towards Ayo and the rest of the Dora Milaje, despite Sam’s urging to not start anything with them, Ayo proceeds to put him in his place by giving him the beatdown he deserves.  And I really like how Bucky seemed content to just sit back and watch it happen, embodying the viewing audience in the process.  (His ‘looking strong, John’ was just so wonderfully snarky.)  Eventually though, Sam gets Bucky to step in.

Of course, that leads me to the part where Ayo reveals she can detach Bucky’s vibranium arm with just two moves. Which seems to be a pretty polarizing moment in this episode.  Okay, I acknowledge that this whole situation is extremely complicated.  And as I stated earlier, I fully appreciate that Ayo is feeling particularly betrayed by Bucky’s actions in assisting Zemo’s escape from prison without discussing it with the Wakandans first.  That being said?  DUDE!  I know it’s easy to forget sometimes, but the fact remains that Bucky is an amputee.  A man with a physical disability.  You don’t up and remove a disabled man’s prosthetic limb without his consent!  What’s wrong with you?  It’s the same as going up to a deaf person and ripping out their hearing aid, or taking away someone’s wheelchair!

Also, it’s possible I missed something about this scene, but the way it was set up doesn’t make a lot of sense.  I didn’t see anything to suggest that Bucky and Sam were attempting to prevent the Dora Milaje from leaving with Zemo.  If Walker hadn’t started trying to throw his weight around, they probably would have allowed it without an argument.  Bucky only intervened in the ensuing fight in order to dissolve the situation.  And when he stepped in, it almost looked as if Ayo was preparing to make a killing blow.  Which is way extreme because, while Walker is an arrogant, smug prat and deserved to get knocked down a few pegs, at this point, he hadn’t really done anything to warrant getting impaled by a spear.  Yeah, I get Ayo and the other Dora Milaje are undoubtedly super angry right now because of the whole Zemo thing and tempers are running high.  But at the same time, that fact alone means they really shouldn’t be acting rashly. Oh, at it gets better.  Because while everyone was distracted by all the fighting, Zemo slips into the bathroom and manages to escape by moving the bathtub aside and slithering away down the drain like the snake he is.  (Exactly how big are the pipes in Latvia?)  So because of all this fighting, Zemo is now roaming around free somewhere, and the Dora Milaje have to leave without him.  I repeat, I fully get this is a complicated, complex situation, and I understand where they’re coming from.  But perhaps if the Dora Milaje didn’t start fighting with Bucky and Sam when they stepped in to interfere with Walker’s well-deserved beatdown, maybe Zemo wouldn’t have gotten away.  Just saying, they were doing a pretty good job of keeping Zemo on a leash up until now.

So anyway, in the aftermath of this fight, you see Walker starting to have a mental breakdown.  Because he is completely flabbergasted that he was effortlessly taken down by the Dora Milaje.  Because while they are unquestionably highly skilled and trained warriors, they are still completely ordinary people.  Not a single one of them have been injected with the Super Serum. So how is he supposed to manage going up against the Flag Smashers, who are Super Soldiers?  (It’s also possible that Walker’s despondency over this is partially fueled by him having sexist and xenophobic viewpoints, considering the Dora Milaje are all African women, but that’s open to interpretation.) While he and Hoskins are sitting at a diner somewhere, Walker, clearly thinking about the fact that he has the last vial of Super Serum, asks Hoskins if he would take the Super Serum if he had the chance.  Hoskins states he would take it.  Which is clearly meant to parallel an earlier scene, where Zemo asked Sam if he would take it if it was ever offered.  Because Sam stated he wouldn’t without hesitation.  Which once again further cements the fact that Steve made the right choice in choosing Sam as his successor.  (It’s also evident by the fact that Sam is the one trying to find a peaceful resolution with the Flag Smashers, while Walker is simply trying to charge in and simply take them out.)

Things come to a head when Karli actually calls up Sam’s sister, Sarah, and directly threatens her and her kids in order to give Sam an incentive to meet with her again.  So Sam, with Bucky accompanying him, suits up as Falcon in order to confront her.  Karli attempts to try and convince Sam to join up with her, but Sam still insists that, while her goal is honorable, there’s a better way to fight without resorting to violence (such as blowing up buildings with innocent people inside).  But once again, Walker mucks it all up.  Because, Sam is then contacted by Sharon Carter.  Who seems to be able to track Walker via satellite?  Which seems to contradict something she said earlier about not having access to satellites, unless I misheard that line.  Yeah, Sharon is kinda shady in this episode.  If the fan theory that she’s actually the Power Broker turns out to be right, I won’t be that shocked.  In any event, it seems that either Walker and Hoskins ended up going after the Flag Smashers again or Karli’s meeting with Sam was just a diversion to keep Sam and Bucky out of the way while the Flag Smashers tried to go after Walker in order to kill him.  I’m not sure which it was.  But regardless, Sam and Bucky immediately go off to try and find Walker before it’s too late, with Karli also running off to join the fight.

Here, it’s one big action sequence, with Bucky, Sam and Walker fighting against Karli and the Flag Smashers.  Hoskins eventually joins in the fight as well (he was absent from the start of the fight because he was jumped by some of the Flag Smashers and was briefly tied up in a bathroom somewhere until he managed to free himself).  But in the mist of the battle, Karli ends up either kicking or punching Hoskins into a stone pillar with full Super Soldier strength.  And the impact apparently snaps Hoskin’s spine, killing him instantly.  

Okay!  I was seriously not expecting them to kill Hoskins off like that!  And it’s a shame, too.  Because while I barely knew Hoskins, he still seemed like an okay guy.  At least he was the one who, however briefly, convinced Walker to at least try to give Sam a chance to talk to Karli. Which indicated he wasn’t as gung-ho and impulsive as Walker is.  Unfortunately, it seems that Hoskin’s death was the breaking point for Walker, because he immediately snaps.  And while Bucky and Sam go after Karli when she makes a break for it, Walker goes right for the other Flag Smashers.  He quickly corners the Flag Smasher called Nico, who I think was Karli’s right-hand man, in the middle of a crowded square.  And, in full view of everyone, mercilessly murders Nico with the Shield.  And he is showing no reaction to the fact that the onlookers are all staring at him in shock and horror, or even that some people were filming him with their camera phones.   He simply straps the Shield, which is now covered with blood, onto his arm.  And that’s where the episode ends.

Well, crap!  That’s a rather dark note to end the episode on.  Clearly, Walker is unstable.  And I have no idea what the final two episodes of this show will be like.  The even more chilling aspect is that, while it’s not explicitly stated, it’s implied that Walker might have already taken the Super Serum!  And this show of rage and aggression was the result of it.  After all, as Dr. Erskine had said way back when, the Serum elevates everything.  Good becomes great, but bad becomes worse.  And Walker was clearly undergoing a phycological breakdown to begin with.  So if he’s taken the Super Serum (like we were probably supposed to assume he did when he effortlessly bent a metal pole like a pretzel during the last battle scene with the Flag Smashers), then he must be REALLY unstable now!  And now, the Shield, the very symbol of Captain America (which is tied to Steve Roger’s legacy), is now tainted by a bloodstain. Again, I have no idea where the show plans to go from here on in.

Speaking of the Shield?  On a closing note, I do have to address the fact that Bucky once again scolded Sam for giving away the Shield in the first place.  *Sigh*  Okay.  Bucky?  I love you, man.  You’re my favorite character in the MCU so far (apart from Goose, of course).  But you really need to stop blaming Sam for this.  Because Sam didn’t give the Shield away like you’re suggesting.  That’s not what happened.  Sam donated the Shield to the Smithsonian, with the understanding that it would be kept there, as a monument to everything Steve Rogers did and stood for.  It was the US Government who went behind Sam’s back and took back the Shield in order to hand it over to Walker.  Sam didn’t know they were going to do that until after the fact.  Yes, Bucky has every right to be mad about what happened.  His feelings are justified and valid.  (Particularly if they end up revealing what I think they’re going to reveal.)   But he’s taking it out on the wrong person.  And he really does owe Sam an apology.

[captainjimothycarter]

Homeless, Veteran Steve who was presumed dead by the world and forgotten about until he was found on a simple mistake. He cant wrap his mind around why the higher ups arent too pleased and why everyone is trying to hush hush it until it "accidentally" slips to the media.

Steve who hates himself beyond reason and doesnt want to be alive

Steve who gave his all to bring home money for his sick ma until she died.

Steve who did his best to save others.

Captain Steven Grant Rogers who still lost it all when they were attacked. He was the only one to survive and that seems was a mistake.

No one asks for his story.

They send him home with nothing but an empty promise the paperwork for back pay and his assumed death would be handled.

They both know it won't.

Brooklyn is no longer home to a soul who is no longer himself. He doesnt even allow himself the comfort of Shelters and gives up his spot for others. He keeps to himself and wonders the streets, barely surviving.

It's no wonder he passes out in front if an assumed office and wakes up in a hospital room with too bright lights, too many sounds, and a kind face of a brunette with shiny curls and chocolate brown eyes sitting beside him. She's close enough to touch but not close enough to crowd him.

He doesnt need to ask what happens - he's malnourished, dehydrated, PTSD. Amognst a whole list of problems. They tell him anyway and it falls on deaf ears. He doesnt deserve help so why should he get it? Its clear hes punishing himself and the world can't see it but one soul can.

Her.

She says her name is Peggy Carter and Steve can barely pronounce it. He hasnt spoken in so long beyond to scream, he's forgotten his voice.

She's a saint this Carter, she's patient and takes care of him in the hospital. She helps feed him soft food from salty broth to weird jello that makes him cold. She helps him wash up and is gentle about his scars without asking questions despite they shine in her eyes. She talks to fill the silence and thats what he likes. Her voice. Her poised and cunning words. He can only focus on half of what she says but she still talks anyway. She seems to know when he has questions or wants to know more on a subject because she'll back track just for him.

It takes him just two weeks to figure out she's not a nurse. She's not a doctor. She doesn't work in the hospital. He's not sure who he is beyond what she says and if you ask him, she's an angel.

It takes a full month before they start to consider to let him go. No follow up. No health care. No psych. Not one psychatrist comes to talk to him.

Peggy doesn't leave his side but she's always in a new change of clothes day after day. Always with red lipstick and a bright smile on her lips.

When it's time to leave, Steve expects her to vanish, but instead she helps him into a wheelchair and says she has a surprise for him. A prosthetic. Its clunky and awkward but she promises its temporary so they can make a better one later based on these adjustments.

Who they is, he doesn't know.

Steve should question her and as to why he's being taken to her home. This has to hers. He doesnt own a flat or even have a cat, especially not one named Tiddles.

It's that night when he finally speaks over dinner. She has to feed him again, his hands wont work right and she's just as patient.

"Why?"

One simple word holding so much meaning and by the look in those deep, chocolate eyes she knows what he means.

"Because," Peggy sighs, using the end of a cloth napkin to dab at the corner of his lips with a fond smile, "You needed the help and no one offered you a helping hand, no one saved you from yourself. Sometimes we must put aside our pride to help others. Everyone needs someone to take care of them. Everyone needs someone to hold their hand and tell them it'll be okay. You have no one but now you do. You have me now."

[hardlyharringrove]

he used to wear blue (before I knew you) Part 2/ WHO KNOWS ANYMORE

There is a whole lot of harringrove coming next part I promise, now that we got the story really rolling, there’s a little bit here but it’s mostly explaining my boy Steve.Sorry it took so long, I dont even have an excuse frfr. If you Haven’t read part one please find it HERE. If you have read part one then please enjoy part two to my madness my lovely freaking penguins. Until next time ya tiger kings and queens

When Steve woke up, he once again expected to be cold. 

He was warm again though, proving himself wrong.

Steve opened his eyes, groaning he looked around through hazy eyes, trying to focus himself. He could see himself in a mirror, blinking at his reflection. The bandage over his eyebrow really hurt, and he had a pounding headache.  When he sat up, shrugging the blanket that was covering him off he sighed. Was he even still at the school? The surrounding didn’t look familiar to him, he looked around once more before his eyes landed on someone else in the room.

Oh.

He wasn’t alone. 

Before he could fully freak out though, he could tell it wasn’t Hargrove again, it also wasn’t Nancy or Jonathan. Steve did have a guess though, looking at the pixie brown hair cut and too big glasses for her face.

“Barb?” He asked quietly, reaching up to rub at the back of his head, trying to soothe his headache.

“Hey Steve.” She replied, finally looking up at him. 

Barbra Holland, she’d die Steve’s Junior year in his backyard. She’d disappeared from his backyard,and it had haunted him for ions. They had never really been friends, she was only ever around when he was trying to talk to Nancy. Even then, she gave off vibes of disapproval towards Steve. So why was she here now?

Steve had wanted to ask her, wanted to ask her if she had found her piece in this weird afterlife they were both in. The words wouldn’t come out though, he could only sit there in shock, staring back at her as she stared at him. His life had a lot of explaining to do, but he had nobody to ask, nobody to understand him.

“Billy had to go to class, if that’s who you're looking for.” She said, smirking at him.

He had in fact NOT been looking for Billy.

“He asked me to stop by during my free period to make sure you were okay. You gave everybody a heart attack you dingus.” Barb said, closing the book that was in her lap, and leaning back in her chair. 

“I did?” 

“Um yeah, you don’t remember anything do you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No, I can't remember anything if I’m being honest with you” Steve replied, giving an exhausted sigh. He genuinely felt as if he could sleep for years with how tired he was right now.

“Well, you passed out in the boys bathroom and hit your head pretty hard,Billy carried your ass to the nurse. Then you woke up and started freaking out apparently talking about everything being a dream. So the nurse gave you some prescribed meds and knocked you out for a few hours.” She said, reaching down to pull a satchel from between her legs and around her shoulders. “It's fourth period now, and my free period is almost over. So, I’ll text B and let him know you’re okay.” She stood then, walking past Steve and towards the door.

“Barb, I can’t remember anything. None of what you said makes sense!” He exclaimed, standing on wobbly legs and reaching for her. He grabbed her arm, stopping her. “ I just want someone to actually listen to me on this.”

“Steve we are all here to listen to you, that’s what friends are for.” Barb whispered, turning and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It was just a little fall, you’ll be okay by lunch and in time for the basketball game tonight, okay?” She asked, turning to leave again.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking you for help.” Steve muttered to her back, making her stop and turn to him again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She sounded hurt.

Steve glanced at her, shit, he didn’t mean it like that.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He sighed, shaking his head.

“Well how else am I supposed to take it? I thought we were like best friends Steve?” She asked, again the hurt tone in her voice, making Steve wince at her words.

“We are.. Well we’re not but I don’t know okay?” He stuttered, trying not to explode with emotion. His head was reeling at this point and his face felt hot. He felt just like he did early trying to explain his current situation to deaf ears. Why was nobody listening to him? 

“Did I do something that I don’t know about? Or is this just your regularly scheduled crisis of the day?” She asked, taking a step back from him.

Barb stopped them, really looking at Steve, watching the nervousness in his eyes and the unease in his stature. And then, as if a light bulb had just been turned on,she looked around quickly, noticing the nurse on a phone call out in the hallway before she rushed and closed the door.Barb locked the door, turning to look at Steve slowly. “Steve what year did you fall asleep in?” She asked, approaching him carefully.

“What? What year? Is that some trick question?” Steve asked, running a hand through his hair, pacing in circles now.

“Steve,” Barb tried.

“If you don’t want to listen to me then you don’t have to but to make fun of me Barb, that's low.”

“Steve,” She tried again.

“I mean at least everyone else was a little genuine with their concern but I’m not crazy okay. And i don't even think this is a dream anymore. Not with-”

“Steve!” Barb tried again, waving her hands to get his attention to no avail.

“But this has to be a dream because how else would we be talking right now? You’re literally dead. So none of thi- HEY!” Steve finally stopped talking after he felt a sharp slap to his face. “That’s really NOT cool, especially since this is the kind of dream you get hurt in.” Steve muttered, looking up to see an annoyed looking Barb.

“Did you say I’m dead?” She whispered, grabbing both sides of his face and making him turn to look her in the eyes.

Steve nodded slowly. 

“Steve,” She paused, taking a deep breath, “What year did you fall asleep in?” She asked again.

“1982.” He whispered back, looking at her intently.

Barbra let go of his face taking a shocked step back.

“Steve, you’re not in a dream.” She started, raising her arms to calm him.

“What are you talking about? Of course this is a dream?” Steve asked bewildered by her strange behavior all of a sudden.

She reached forward then, grabbing both of Steve’s hands in hers, and looking at his very confused face.

“Hey, Open this door! Children do not make me call the principal!” The nurses voice came through the locked door. 

Both teens ignored the demand, attention staying on the other instead.

“Barb, what do you mean this isn’t a dream?” Steve asked again.

Barb looked down, taking another deep breath before looking up at Steve.

“Steve I did this.” She said, waiting for a response. She was met with silence so she continued. “I brought you to an alternate dimension with me.”

And with that, Steve may have fainted again.

_________________

“Are you sure we shouldn’t call his parents?” A female voice whispered harshly.

“Yeah right, remember the last time Steve tried out for sports?” That was Billy talking now. Steve could recognize that much

“Yeah like two years ago man so what?” A different female voice spoke up, maybe Nancy?

“He got a scrape on his knee and his parents almost had a heart attack.” 

“I still think we should call someone” That was a different voice, a younger male voice, he knew that voice too though.

Steve sat up slowly from where he was lying down. His head was cold, he thought, raising his hand to remove a wet white cloth that was on his forehead.He looked around, eyes still a little fuzzy from being closed for too long. He was in the back of someone's car, that much was clear. Whose car, was a different question. He could still hear the voices outside of the car arguing back and forth over him. Steve took a deep breath, looking down at the car floor, seeing a bunch of open soda cans and scattered magazines. He took another deep breath, the car smelled of burned cinnamon sticks and ash.

Deciding he couldn’t take the arguing outside anymore, Steve opened the door. Spotting Billy first as he was closest to the car. He looked around at everyone else surrounding him. He saw Nancy and Jonathan which was a relief. What really threw him for a loop was seeing Barbra and Mike Wheeler standing in front of him as well, with concerned looks on their faces.

“B-Barb?” He asked quietly, standing to his feet a little wobbly. Billy reached out to grab his arm, helping to steady the boy. “You did this?” He asked, pointing an accusing finger at her.

Barb took a step back from the rest of the group, her eyes facing downwards.

“Baby take it easy.” Billy whispered in his ear.Pushing him back onto the car seat behind him.”All Barb did was call us all, she carried you from the nurses office, after convincing her not to snitch to your parents that you’ve fainted twice in a day.”

What? Had he imagined that whole conversation in the nurse's office.

“Are you sure nothing happened last night? This is weird even for Steve.” Nancy asked, her question directed towards her brother. 

Mike shrugged, raising his hands in defense of whatever accusation he was being accused of.

“We all hung out just like we usually would. Steve picked us all up and took us to see the new Avengers movie, then we played arcade games all night, got some pizza and then he took us all home. That’s all. I don’t know what he did after that.”

He had been with the kids last night? That sounds like a typical Friday night for him. Still none of this dream made any sense, and Steve had no idea what was going on anymore.

“Avengers?” Steve asked, looking around at everyone as their attention turned to him once more. “What’s that?” 

Nancy turned to her brother arms crossed again.

“See? This makes it seem like maybe you had something to do with this.” She said angrily.

“You also said that he didn’t even remember dating Billy. Did I have something to do with that too? He just asked your best friend if she was alive.” Mike exclaimed, pointing his finger at Barbra, “What would we have done to him for all of that?”

Billy turned to Steve, standing in front of him and placing one hand on his shoulder and using his other hand to tilt Steve’s head up to look at him.

“Baby,” he whispered “Did you take something after dropping the kids off?” he asked, a look of concern in his eyes.

Steve scoffed, pushing Billy away from him.

“I don’t do drugs, Hargrove, so don't accuse me of it. Also stop calling me baby.”Steve said huffing. “ It’s weird.” 

He had to look away from the hurt look in Billy’s eyes, for some reason it really made his heart hurt to see the other boy look so heartbroken over his words. Steve sighed, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

“This is a really bad dream, this is a really bad dream, this is a really bad dream.” He muttered to himself on and on.

“What’d he just say? We’re all in a dream?” Mike asked, taken aback.

“Maybe we should just take Steve home?” Barb suggested from the background.

“We could do that, his moms always out doing stuff with clients until at least 5 pm” Billy said, turning to the group. “I think he’s just tired honestly.”

“I can’t skip today guys, I have a math exam to pass.” Jonathan said suddenly, wrapping an arm over Nancy's shoulders.

“Yeah, I’ve got a Student Council Meeting after lunch today, and you kinda need the president there for that.” Nancy said next. “Let us know how everything goes okay?” She asked, before turning to Steve, a concerned look gracing her face. “Feel better Stevie, we’ll stop by after school.” The couple said their goodbyes before walking back into the school.

“Shit, I have practice after school today too, we have the basketball game today and Coach wants us to run a couple of plays.” Billy cursed under his breath. “I’ll just skip, no way am I letting you out of my sight.” Billy said, turning to Steve and caressing the boy's soft face with his closed fist. 

“No way are you coming to my house Hargrove.” Steve scoffed, turning away from the other boy.

“Listen here princess, fix your attitude now.” Billy demanded, grabbing Steve's chin to force the boy to look at him. “I don’t care if you’re being a brat right now, or even if you’re mad at me for whatever, I’m taking you home. You don’t need to be alone.”

Steve struggled to get out of Billy’s firm grip, feeling slightly embarrassed to have this happening in front of Barb and Mike Wheeler who were both adverting their eyes from the two in front of them. Before Steve could come up with a response that would’ve no doubt angered Billy even more, Barb cut in.

“Actually, I’m done for the day, I don’t mind making sure Steve gets home alright.” She said, shrugging her shoulders.

Billy sighed, and looked as if he was thinking it over before he let go of Steve’s chin and nodded. 

“Fine, but please take care of him.” He grumbled, turning to Mike next “and you go back to class.”

“Gladly,” Mike smirked before waving to Steve “See you later Steve, game night at ours tomorrow, you bring the snacks this time!” He shouted jogging off back towards the school.

Barbra nodded her head, reaching out to take Steve’s keys from Billy who had them in his pocket.

“I’ll bring his car around, I rode with Nancy today anyways.” She said walking off.

Steve turned to watch her walk away and shook his head, had he really imagined all of that conversation? Was this really just some weird dream he couldn’t seem to wake up from? Before he could delve deeper into his own thoughts, he turned to look at a hurt Billy Hargrove.

“Listen man, I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me in this dream, but thanks I guess.” Steve said, trying to ease the tension.

Billy looked at him then, a strange look in his eyes as he looked Steve up and down.

“Baby, I don’t know whats going on in that pretty little head of yours today.” He said, shaking his head. “But if there’s anything you ever wanna talk about just tell me.” Billy sighed turning back towards the school. “I love you Steve Harrington, and whatever I did I’m sorry okay.” he turned back towards Steve, biting his lip worriedly waiting for a response.

Steve coughed awkwardly.

“Um I forgive you?” 

He must have said the right thing because Billy smiled then, and took three large steps towards him until they were face to face.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.” Billy laughed, “I thought you were trying to figure out a nice way to break up with me or something.” He said putting hands in his pocket and giving a small shrug.

“Well I-”

Steve was cut off then by a surge of lips pressed against his. He wanted to push Billy off of him and punch him in the face, but something was holding him back. Billy was really warm, pulling Steve closer to his chest. It wasn’t a rough kiss where their lips were mashed together as if they were fighting one another, but it wasn’t a soft peck to the lips either. Steve could feel his whole body on fire,before Billy finally pulled back, a giant grin on his face.

Steve was in shock, too much of a shock to do anything else. Did he really just let Billy Hargove lay one on him as if he was some girl? 

“Text me when you get home babe,” Billy said before turning and walking towards the school. Making Steve jump, when he heard the car lock itself. So, that was Billy’s car, interesting.

“Hey Steve!” Barb shouted at him, she was pulled up in the car he had driven to school this morning just a few spots down from where he was. 

He made her way over to her quickly getting in and closing the door as she drove off.

Steve sighed, taking a second to actually collect himself and relax in the passenger seat. This day keeps getting weirder, he thought to himself. Nothing was making any sense to him.

“Sorry I kinda exploded at you Barb, I guess I’m not feeling well” Steve said, trying to play it cool in front of her.

“Cut the bs Steve.” She muttered, turning out of the school's parking lot and onto the road. “You’re just fine, you’re not crazy and you’re not in a dream.” She exclaimed seriously. She looked over at his surprised look and sighed. “Look I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said I brought you here, I did do this okay?”

“You.. you what? You’re seriously telling me this is an alternate universe?” Steve asked skeptically. 

“Yes Steve, and I’m the only other person who knows, so maybe stop blabbing about it too literally everyone. They don’t know what you’re talking about and they’ll think you’re crazy, trust me I know.”

Steve sat staring at her in silence, his mouth hanging open as he tried to form words.

“Listen okay, I woke up here four years ago with a completely different life. I wasn’t even in Hawkins, when I got here. I woke up in Columbus, Ohio. I tried to explain to everybody that I had just died but everyone thought I was crazy too, I thought it was a dream or at least Heaven. It took me awhile to figure it out, but when I was dying I dreamed of a happier place with no problems like the one I was in, and when I opened my eyes that’s exactly where I was. I didn’t get to pick my reality or anything like that I was just here and I was happy.” She paused again, pulling the car off to the side of the road and turning to look at Steve who had the same confused look on his face. 

“You still with me dingus for brains?” She asked, tilting her head annoyed.

Steve nodded slowly.

“My parents moved to Hawkins to be closer to my grandma three years ago, and I had to become friends with everybody all over again, Nancy, Jonathan, Billy and even you. Along with a few other people. Everything was fine and I was finally happy, nothing weird happens here, okay?” She asked, waiting for Steve’s head nod to continue.

“Okay, but how’d you bring me here?” Steve asked pointing to himself, making Barb sigh and scratch the back of her neck.

“Well, last night I had a dream, well more of a nightmare really. I was watching everybody fight these weird demon-like creatures and run to safety, everybody I knew and loved.Everyone else got away except you, Nancy kept saying she was gonna go back for you and to stay put on a walkie talkie, but she didn’t come back, so I just sat with you. And well,” She stopped trying to collect herself.

“And what Barb?”

“And you were dying Steve” She said sadly” So I just kinda wished for you to come to where I was, a happier place. And that’s what brought you here. After I wished it, you closed your eyes and everything went white. Next thing I know I’m waking up and going to school. I didn’t think it was real until you started talking to me in the nurse's office.” Barb finally finished.

Steve sat for a minute, turning to look forward rather than at Barb who was looking at him intently. He didn’t feel light headed anymore all of a sudden. Everything was starting to make a lot of sense actually. This wasn’t a dream if what Barb was saying was true and if he believed her. Did he believe her? 

“It wasn’t Nancy.” He said suddenly, turning back to glance at Barb “It was you.” He said, shocked.

“What was me?” Barb asked, now confused on what they were talking about.

“I remember right before I closed my eyes in the, well the other universe, a voice was calling out my name. I thought it was Nancy calling me but it wasn’t.” He said.

“I didn’t think you could actually hear me.”She said quietly in disbelief.

The two stared at each other for a long time not saying anything.

“Barb, can you take me home?” Steve asked, “ I think we have a lot to figure out, and you have a lot to catch me up on.”

taglist bc im special

@morganhoran1671

@bisexual-cupcake

@harringrovetrashh

@bitterslytherinpeach

@lemonypink

@goldenweatherharringrove

[mermaidxatxheart]

It’s Always You {1}

Ok. Chapter One is finally here. I hope you enjoy it. Yes, I posted a sneak peek a couple weeks ago. This has since been updated, revised and is extended.  Thank you so so so so so much to @everythingisoverrated​ for putting up with my insanity on this one. I made the mood board myself specifically for this story. If you want to be added or removed, send me an ask.

Pairing: Bucky X OFC

Word Count: 1964

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, angst, trauma, car accident. Sarcasm like you’ve never seen. Oh boy.

Summary: Ava has been in a car accident. When she wakes up, she’s surprised to find Captain America waiting for her. Will she be able to help him find the answers they’re both looking for? 

Series Master List

The last thing I remember is the set of headlights coming directly at the left side of my car. The screeching of metal twisting, the hollow popping as the door panels crack and the shattering of glass are the last noises I hear. 

 Silence.

 Blissful. 

 Pain-free.

 Silence. 

 The next sound I become slowly aware of is a quiet beeping. A steady, even rhythm. 

It almost lulls me back to sleep. But then I’m aware that something isn’t right. I try to roll over but my whole body is immobilized, held down, and I begin to panic. That quiet beeping becomes frantic, picks up speed. I can’t breathe. Something is blocking my airway, something hard forced down my throat. 

 “She’s awake!” A voice yells and there’s more noise. People talking over people, hands touching me, and my panic ratchets up another notch. 

 The hard plastic something is pulled out of my throat, leaving it burning and raw, but at least I can breathe. I gasp for air and my throat feels like it’s on fire.

 “If you can hear me, you need to calm down. You’re safe, you’re in a hospital.” A voice says gently, a hand pressing on my shoulder.

 I struggle to open my eyes, but for the first time I realize I can’t, they’re being held shut. 

 I try to lift my arms but they feel like dead weight and won’t move.

 “Easy, now. Just relax.” The voice says again and I feel fingers against my eyes, but there’s a gap in the sensation. It takes me a long minute to realize that it’s because I can’t feel all of the fingertip. 

 Something like tape is pulled off my eye and I wince as pain flares. But now I can open my eyes. One only opens a little, it’s mostly swollen shut.

 “Your eye kept popping open, it was unnerving some of the staff.” The voice says again, gentle and feminine. 

 I try to turn my head to look at her, but my neck won’t twist. “What happened to me?” I croak. My voice is scratchy and rough, and speaking even that much hurts like a bitch. 

 “Don’t try to move. You’re very lucky to be alive. Can you tell me what you remember?” She asks, stepping into my view. She’s very pretty, a dark-skinned beauty with obvious Western Asian features and a British accent. 

 “I…” I try to think back before waking up, but it’s just a big black void. Faces appear, my parents, my sisters, people I used to know, my boyfriend. “I was talking to my boyfriend... on the phone, I think.” I start, my good eye drifting down over my body. 

 It looks like the entire thing is in a cast. My legs are elevated, the left one in a complicated looking brace and the right one in red plaster. My arms are suspended in front of me, needles stuck along the fingers and thick bandages wrapped from my palms up to the middle of my forearms. My right arm is in a cast up to the middle of my bicep and I can feel the massive bandage over my right shoulder.

 “And what were you doing at the time?” The doctor asks. Her face is kind and I want to answer, but thinking back that far hurts my head. 

 “I don’t remember.” I close my eyes, trying to calm down. 

 “That’s alright. Maybe with a little rest, it will come back to you. Can you tell me your name?”

 “Ava. Ava Fonesca.”

 “That’s really good. I’m Doctor Haskin. If you need anything or have any questions for me, you can always have a nurse page me.”

 “Can’t you tell me what’s the matter with me?” I ask.

 She glances towards the door for a moment. “Someone is here to see you. We can discuss your injuries later after you’ve had more time to heal.” She says, stepping outside.

 I nearly choke at seeing the man who enters the room. He’s tall, he’s blond and those baby blue eyes seem to look right through me. They roamed over my injuries at first, only a natural instinct.

 Captain America.

 “Hi,” He says once his eyes meet mine.

 “Hi,” I reply, feeling ridiculous. I should have a better comeback.

 “Do you know who I am?” He asks.

 “Don’t tell me you have amnesia, too. The whole world will fall apart if Captain Steve Rogers can’t remember who he is.” I reply, my jaw aches so I’m careful to keep it mostly shut.

 He grins. “Finally, a sense of humor I can get along with.”

 “You get along with everybody.” A female voice says as a woman comes into the room. She has red hair, bright green eyes, and a petite figure.  

 Wanda Maximoff.

 “Don’t let him lie to you like that.” She says with a friendly smile at me. 

 I don’t respond, mostly because I’m trying to keep my panic under control.

 “How are you feeling?” Steve asks.

 “Like an elephant is sitting on my chest,” I admit.

 He gives a small chuckle. “I’ve been there. It will go away.” He stalls for a minute and I can tell the small talk is over.

 “What are you doing here?” I ask.

 “Direct, to the point. I like her.” Wanda says, turning a little to Steve. 

 “We need to talk about what happened to you.” 

 “I don’t know anything,” I answer honestly.

 “Okay. So, let’s talk about what you do know.” He pulls a chair close to the side of my bed.

 “Literally nothing. Don’t tell me you’re going deaf already.”

 He chuckles. “I’m sure that’s not true. You must know some stuff. You’re one of the best biochemists in the world, from what I hear.” He smiles and I have to try hard to resist rolling my eyes.

 “Well, sure, I know stuff. But you’re not referring to what I know like that. You want to know what got me here and honestly, I have no idea.”

 Wanda snorts in a very unladylike way behind Steve. My eyes slide to her. Does she not believe me?

 “Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “So, do you remember going to work?”

 I close my eyes, trying to focus. “I remember a conversation.” I want to rub my face. It’s frustrating to not have the mobility I should.

 “With who? With your boyfriend?” Steve asks. 

 “No, with... with a friend. I think I sent him something.” I frown. 

 “Was this friend Michael Chambers?” Steve asks gently.

 I try to nod, but can’t. “Yes. We went to Harvard together.” It dawns on me that I never said Michael’s name. “How did you know it was him?” I ask, my eye one good eye trained on Steve.

 “He was found dead in his apartment two weeks ago. The same night you had your accident.”

 Everything in me stops cold. The beeping next me flatlines for a minute before it picks up double time.

 “Huh, I didn’t think that actually happens.” Wanda comments. Steve shushes her.

 “Dead? How?” I ask, my face going numb.

 “Self-inflicted gunshot wound.” He says it gently, like it will hurt less if he gives me those big blue puppy dog eyes.

 This takes me a long time to comprehend. I can’t even picture what he’s telling me. A world where Michael isn’t alive doesn’t make sense. “He killed himself?” I say finally. 

 “I’m sorry.”

 “That’s... that’s not right.” I say, a cloud fogging up my mind. 

 “Suicide is never easy to process,” Steve starts. 

 “No, that’s... he was...” The taste of metal fills my mouth and pain flares on my tongue. “N-no-”

 “Ava? What’s wrong?” Wanda asks, reaching a hand towards me.

 My whole body goes rigid, locking everything into place, and then it’s like my nerves spark and explode. Everything on my bed and my body start shaking at once as my body tries to start convulsing. 

 Thankfully, I don’t feel anything after that as the darkness comes for me again.

 Steve

 “What do you mean you don’t know when she’s going to wake up?” I snap at Doctor Haskin. I’m aware that it’s not her fault, but I need to yell at someone.

 “Brain injuries are complicated. Honestly, we were surprised she even woke up the first time. With that many concussed areas, it was a miracle she was able to open her eyes, to speak, to remember anything at all. With the extent of her injuries-it’s a damn miracle she lived. Her body is healing the best way it knows how.”

 “It’s been two months since you put her into that coma.” I cross my arms over my chest, fists clenched underneath.

 “Yes, and half of that since we took her off the medicine that induced it. I’m telling you, Captain Rogers. She may never wake up. You need to prepare yourself for that possibility.”

 “She has information we need.”

 “Then you should have thought about that before your interrogation sent her into a bout of seizures,” Haskin says with a glare before turning on her heel and storming away.

 “Curvă,” Wanda mutters, looking after her. 

 I ignore her comment and turn to the girl in the bed. She had been on the verge of telling me something important, I’m sure of it.  And whether the doc is right and I did cause this, or I didn’t and it would have happened anyway, I still feel awful. That’s probably why I’m still hanging around some random hospital in Maryland.

 She’s pretty, I can see it better now that the swelling on her face has disappeared. Her high cheekbones give her face almost a heart shape. Her lips are a little pouty, a petite nose rests just above them. The scars that crisscross her face don’t take away from the natural beauty, and I hope that when she wakes up, because she just has to, she’ll see it that way too.

 “Do you think I should...” Wanda trails off, giving her slender fingers a wiggle.

 I look at her and shake my head. “No, whatever is going on with her, it should be her telling us. I think she might be pissed if she finds out we were digging around in her brain. Hopefully, she should wake up naturally from it. If she’s going to at all.”

 “Captain.” A Wakandan accent reaches my ears and I turn to see one of the King’s Guard, the Dora Milaje.

 “Yeah?”

 “The woman’s partner is here again. Shall I send him away?” She asks.

 “No, let him come up. He should be able to say his goodbyes.” I sigh and rub a hand over my face. This was always the hardest part. 

 The man, Jonathan, comes down the hallway, flowers in his hand.

 “No change yet?” He asks. He always asks.

 “No. I just spoke with the doc. Doesn’t look too good.” I tell him, trying to soften the blow.

 “Yeah, they always say that, don’t they?” He steps into the room and sets the flowers in another vase. “She just doesn’t know Ava like I do. She’ll wake up, you’ll see.” He bends down and kisses her forehead. “Won’t you, baby? You’ll come back to me.” 

 Wanda makes a face and turns away. I also turn away, feeling even more guilty. 

 “Come on. Let’s go get some food. We can come back tomorrow.” I say to Wanda, pushing away from the window and heading for the door. 

 “Yes, please. I cannot watch a grown man call a grown woman ‘baby’. It’s pathetic.”

 “What does Vision call you?” I ask with a smirk as I hold the door open for us.

 “Wanda.” 

 I tip my head back and laugh loudly. “Of course, I honestly don’t know what else I was expecting.”

Chapter 2

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[imagine-avengers]

Biker Part One- Clint Barton Series

This is Part one of the Biker Clint series, the series is yet to be completed, which isn’t typical for me as I like to finish a series before posting any part but I should be done writing it soon. Enjoy!

Olivia never thought she’d be standing in the parking lot of the Howling Commando’s clubhouse again. She never thought she’d be coming home after all these years, especially after the way she left. Olivia leaned against the side of her black Ford Focus and stared at the bikes lining the wall, her sunglasses over her eyes hiding her face so no one recognized her. She watched as a few Prospects came out of the clubhouse all laughing together so she picked up her camera and took a few photos of them before dropping it back against her chest and heading towards the front doors. Entering the clubhouse brought a wave of nostalgia over Olivia as she spent most of her life in this place.

“Olivia?” Olivia’s eyes scanned the bar area before settling on where Steve Rogers stood against it, his broad chest covered by his kutte that held the VP patch he gained once Bucky had taken over as President.

“Hiya Stevie.” Olivia smiled at her brothers best friend as she took her sunglasses off, showing the scar that was over her eye that she had gotten from a motorcycle accident along with a newer bruise that went over her other eye.

“I thought that was you.” Steve moved from the bar and enveloped Olivia into his arms. “What the hell happened to your eye Liv? What are you doing here? Buck know you’re back? Does Clint?” Steve reamed her with questions as Olivia pulled away from him.

“Slow down.” Olivia laughed. “No Stevie, haven’t talked to Clint since I left, you know that. I thought I’d surprise Bucky.” She shrugged thinking of her brother. “I have news for him.” She spoke. “The eye, well that’s partially why I’m here. Is Buck around?” She glanced around the bar not seeing Bucky or his wife, Natasha, or anyone she really recognized. “Lots of knew people in town, huh?” She asked as Steve nodded.

“Yeah, he’s in the office, had some stuff to go over with Nat, money wise. Come on, I’ll take you back.” Olivia nodded and followed behind Steve, she stood out in the clubhouse, being in her light-wash skinny jeans and plain white t-shirt and black converse. “He’s gonna be shocked Liv, we haven’t heard from you in months.” Steve gave the girl; whom was basically his little sister, a glare. “And now you show up with a big ass bruise, hell Barton is gonna have a heart attack.”

“I know, things got crazy with school Stevie.” Olivia frowned as Steve knocked on Bucky’s office door.

“You two decent?” Steve asked before hearing a grunt and he opened the door and got hit in the head with a pen that came from Natasha. “Someone’s here to see you Buck.” Steve stepped inside the room and made room for Olivia to step in.

“Hey big brother.” Bucky dropped his own pen and stood moving towards his little sister.

“Fuck Livvy.” Bucky muttered pulling his sister into his arms. “What the fuck happened to you?” Bucky pulled away and examined her, his eyes landing on the bruise. “Who touched you?”

“Buck,”

“Who touched you?” Natasha asked, now standing where Bucky had been in front of her. “Liv, we can’t help if you don’t tell us.” Nat spoke as she pulled her sister-in-law into a hug.

“Um, if we’re going to have this conversation, you’re gonna want to have Clint here.” Olivia spoke softly as she fiddled with the sleeves of her jacket.

“Is Clint back in town yet?” Bucky asked looking to Steve.

“Not sure, I’d have to check with Sam.” Bucky nodded and Steve left the room to go find Sam.

“Let’s get you a drink, huh?” Natasha went to pull Olivia out of the room and towards the bar, Bucky not far behind them.

“Wait.” Olivia turned to her brother. “I have news.” She grinned at her brother. “I graduate at the end of the month; my last final was two days ago.” She spoke causing Bucky to grin.

“That’s great Livvy. I’m so proud of you!” Bucky pulled her into another hug. “Now go hang out with Nat while I finish this up and then we’ll have Barton back to talk.” Olivia nodded and followed Natasha to the bar.

“Hey Nat?” Olivia asked as she stared down at the glass of bourbon that sat in front of her. “How’s Rebecca?” She spoke of her sister. Rebecca and Olivia had stopped talking years ago when Rebecca had claimed to be in love with Clint and refused to speak to Olivia once she started seeing him. Though she and Rebecca didn’t speak, Olivia still spoke to her younger sisters, Frances and Mary almost everyday, the three being very close as they were all off at college.

“She’s doing good, we missed you at the wedding.” Olivia looked up at her sister-in-law from her drink.

“Wedding? Becca got married?” Olivia hadn’t known Rebecca was seeing anyone, much less getting married.

“Oh Liv, I thought she would have at least invited you to the wedding, I’m sorry.” Natasha frowned at the girl. “They got married three months ago, they’re expecting a little girl in about seven months.” Olivia nodded.

“Becca’s always wanted kids, I’m happy for her.” Olivia spoke softly. “She told me I was dead to her when I was fifteen and hasn’t spoken to me since I turned eighteen and agreed to marry Clint, so I’m not surprised she didn’t invite me, just kinda hurts.” Olivia shrugged as she heard the doors open.

“Clint’s here.” Natasha spoke as Olivia glanced behind her to see Clint walking in with Thor and Loki. “Clint.” Natasha waved him over, and he turned locking eyes with Olivia. “Your wife is here.” This caused the clubhouse to fall silent.

“Whoa, you’re married?” Sam asked from by where Steve stood with a few others. Olivia hadn’t met Sam, but from the description Natasha had given her and the way Wanda was holding onto him, she assumed he was Sam.

“Yeah.” Clint nodded. “She left.” Clint spoke as he stared at her, his eyes following the line of the bruise on her face. “Back to get me to sign the papers so you can marry your boyfriend?” Clint asked as Olivia rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be like that Clint.” Olivia muttered, her eyes following his face to look for any signs of scarring. “Where are your hearing aids?” She signed to the eighty percent deaf Clint. He shrugged as he moved towards her, his eyes never leaving the bruise. “I’m not back because of a boyfriend, if I’m being honest, haven’t dated since you, jackass.” She turned back to the vodka that Natasha had sat in front of her.

“Olivia is Bucky’s sister.” Natasha spoke glancing at Sam.

“What happened Liv?” Clint spoke softly as he ran a hand over the bruise as he stopped in front of her.

“Put your hearing aids in.” Olivia mumbled pulling away from him. “That’s one of the reasons I’m here.” She spoke staring into his eyes for a moment. “Stevie, Nat.” Olivia looked to the two and motioned towards Bucky’s office, where the four walked into, Clint putting his hearing aids in whilst the four headed back to the office.

“What happened?” Bucky asked leaning against his desk, Nat sitting in his chair, Steve standing against the door frame with Clint standing next to Olivia.

“So, I worked at a bar as a bartender and there was this guy who kept flirting with me every shift, he couldn’t get the hint that I wasn’t interested. After a few months I felt like someone was following me around, so I changed my routine. I came home from work a few weeks ago and somethings in my apartment were moved around, I filed a police report, but since nothing was stolen, they couldn’t do anything. Then a few nights ago, I was walking home from work, I only lived two blocks away, and the guy from the bar showed up demanding I take him home, and was insinuating I should sleep with him, I told him I was married, he didn’t like that.” Oliva ran a hand over her eyes. “He said if he ever seen me with another man, he’d kill them and then he hit me. He left me in the street, I packed everything and left that night and came here. Buck, I’m scared.” Olivia spoke as she started trembling. “What if he followed me?” The whole time she spoke she signed so Clint could see what she was saying, though he was eighty percent deaf, he could hear slightly and could talk perfectly fine.

“Liv, that asshole is never going to touch you again, he messed with the wrong girl.” Bucky spoke pulling his sister into his arms. “Besides, we’ve all seen how possessive Barton gets, no way is anyone ever going to harm you baby sis.”

“No one is going to touch you Liv.” Clint spoke staring at his wife whom nodded. The group sat in Bucky’s office, Liv describing what the guy looked like before Natasha called Tony to run down security camera’s from the bar Liv had worked at.

“You gonna stay at the clubhouse, my place, or with Barton?” Bucky asked whilst the two were sitting at the bar, Loki was in the kitchen making some burgers for the two. Olivia looked over at her brother as she sipped out of her coffee mug.

“Probably with Clint, I think the two of us need to talk.” Olivia shrugged. “Plus I know he has internet, unlike my brother.” She gave him a look and smirked. “I have some photos I have to send out to a client.” Olivia was getting a photography degree and had started an online photography business.

“I know you never wanted to talk about it, but why’d you ask for the divorce?” Bucky looked at his sister from his beer. Olivia sighed and bit her lip before groaning.

“Buck,” Olivia’s voice was soft. “he spent more time here with the club than he did with me after we got married. I never got to see him, all we did was fight and he became distant.” Olivia looked away from her brother. “I thought it was what he wanted, I thought he wanted a divorce, I never understood why he didn’t sign the papers, he didn’t want me Buck.” Olivia spoke softly. “He proved that to me enough in our first year of marriage.”

“Liv, that’s not why he pulled away, I think you should talk to him. Yeah he pulled away because of club stuff, but he’s been in love with you since you were like ten.” Bucky reminded as Loki brought out their food.

“Thanks Loki.” Olivia smiled at the raven-haired man as she pushed her fries around.

“For the record,” Loki spoke. “Clint Barton is hopelessly in love with you.” He stated before heading back into the kitchen.

“For fuck sake. Is everyone going to keep telling me this?” Olivia groaned before she took a bite of her burger.

“Yes.” Natasha spoke standing behind her husband. “Babe, Clint is my best friend and has been since I was four, the mans in love with you and that’s never changed.” Natasha stated as she touched her husband’s shoulder. “I’m heading home, don’t be too late.” Natasha spoke before giving a tight smile to Liv. “Talk to Clint, clear things up and then fuck him.” Winking as Bucky groaned, Natasha took her leave.

“Your wife is a minx.” Bucky nodded at his sisters words, the two eating in silence for a few minutes. “We talked about starting a family.” Olivia whispered glancing at Clint by the pool table. “We were going to start trying, but then he came home one day after a club meeting, telling me it wasn’t what he wanted, he didn’t want to have kids with me.”

“He didn’t mean that Liv,”

“No, he just meant he didn’t want them with me, I know that Buck. I’m not an idiot, I could see my husband losing interest in me and I wasn’t going to continue being in a once sided marriage.” Olivia pushed her fries around as she spoke. “I loved him Buck but he didn’t fight for me, he didn’t even try to save our marriage, I tried so hard and he couldn’t be bothered.”

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

all of who does what for Thunderstruck Starker

Wah, nonnie - this made my day! Thunderstruck is one of my favorite verses. If you haven’t read it, head over to AO3 to catch up with the entire series. 

For those of us that are lazy, the general gist is this: they are mechanics in a soulmate verse where pairs can hear the music their other half is listening to in their head. Peter is deaf, so it takes an alternate listening method for them to find each other. Life together ensues. 

Send me a ship & a prompt/au situation/idea and I’ll tell you who does what - 

Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling/vice versa: Tony is perpetually distracted. There are always designs in his head, or the song lyrics to the last song he heard on the radio. Since he’s so used to being in his own shop where everything does exactly what he wants it to, he doesn’t bother looking at a door when he comes to an unfamiliar one. It takes him walking into several before he thinks that maybe he should take his head out of his ass and be present. The fact that Peter doesn’t tell him before he walks into said doors is a sore spot for the two of them - though, it’s easy for Tony to laugh when he sees the sheer delight on Peter’s face. Both of them are very familiar with the sign for jackass for a reason. 

Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them: It starts to happen unconsciously. Peter is so distracted in class one day, he lets his mind focus on the music he can hear there, Tony obviously in the shop working, the AC/DC blaring a sure fire sign of that. He’s missing half the lecture, but that never seems to matter - his note taker is thorough and they haven’t touched a topic he doesn’t know thoroughly, yet. When everyone starts to get up at the end of class, he sees the hearts and they’re initials all locked together - the doodles mixing in with the song lyrics he hears over the course of the hour. At the end of the semester, his notebook is filled more with doodles and the many ways he figures out how to put Mr. Peter Stark down on paper - bubble letters and all. 

Who starts the tickle fights: A lot of times, neither of them plan to start the tickle wars that have been known to go on for days. There is a lot of finger spelling going on in bed, neither man willing to break away long enough to get a sign out, so the tangibility of the letters and symbols on skin becomes the easiest way for either of them to get their point across. Sometimes, when Tony is lounging on the couch with Peter’s head in his lap, it’s easy to get lost tracing long planes of smooth skin - his fingertips now pretty familiar with the territory. The touches that bring out the sounds Peter is so sparing with are repeated until a hand is batting his away and his soulmate is starting to retaliate. One time, they spent three days getting each other into situations where they could tickle the hell out of the other. When it’s Peter that starts it, Tony tries to ignore the tingling sensation racing across his skin - but he can’t, he’ll never be able to. By the time Peter is finding all of the good spots, Tony is on his knees - Peter’s cock usually filling him while fingers wonder. 

Who starts the pillow fights: Tony is a ninja when it comes to his pillow throwing skill. The longer he’s with Peter, the more creative he has to become to get the man’s attention. Sometimes, he just doesn’t want to get up off his chair, so he’ll chuck a pillow or throw the nearest soft thing he can reach. Peter always looks over at him with the slightest bit of irritation in his eye - like he’s worth more than the toss of a pillow. Which is exactly right. Tony usually gets up and gives him a kiss, the intended interaction sitting on hold until they come up for air. Peter is stealth with his attacks and usually uses Tony’s never ending need to never have the other mad at him to his advantage. He’ll slam the pillow against Tony’s face when he comes in for a ‘I’m sorry’ hug and then it’s all out war. Tony is never one to back down from a challenge - even if he’s the one dropping the initial gauntlet. 

Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile: Peter’s never been the best sleeper. It’s a little better now that Tony is around, but he’s still not that great at it. There are times when he can get right to sleep, usually when he’s spent and coming down from the fifth orgasm - and there are other times when he startles himself awake, or sits just at the edge of consciousness, his brain never quite hurtling over the peak of true rest. After realizing just how cute Tony looks when he’s slowly drifting off to sleep, Peter lets the sleeplessness aid him in watching Tony in the most unguarded moments the man will ever have. The older man does a really good job of taking care of him - but, it’s nice to see the softer side, too. 

Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1am in the morning: In their new home in Cambridge, Tony installs a microwave that doesn’t beep - because Peter can’t hear it, anyway. Instead, the lights attached to it flash. Tony is free to make whatever noises he likes, but he respects Peter’s needs, too. He comes to find that the flash of light is much nicer, more peaceful. 

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines: Always Tony. There’s like an innate feature within him that makes him feel the need to always be making lame jokes. It’s not with everyone, either. He’s stonewall with Steve and Bucky and the slightest bit affectionate with Happy - but he’s not out to impress them. No, he wants Peter’s attention on him, anything that will earn him that beaming smile. So, he makes puns and silly jokes - especially overtly lame and outlandish pick up lines. Literally anything Tony can do to get Peter to whole heartedly laugh, he’s is going to do it. 

Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical order: Tony’s office space is meticulous, but there aren’t a lot of text books to speak of. The technologically brained man likes to keep all of his needed information on the tablet he keeps with him. Peter, on the other hand, is all about the tangibility of turning pages and taking notes - he catches grief about it from the older man constantly. The bookcase they built together houses all of Peter’s books, including the fantasy novels that he’s so very fond of. The books are sorted not only by alphabetical name, but by genre and subject matter, too. He likes to be organized, it helps. 

Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies: Peter’s not shy about his appetite, no matter how much he’s consumed in the small window of time he’s been eating. There are times when Tony has to limit his time in the kitchen when they’re baking - more of the stuff in the bowl makes it into Peter’s mouth than into the pan. There’s no chiding about raw eggs or sickness - Tony likes the fact that Peter is all over the brownie batter. When he kisses him later, Peter tastes sweet, the slightest hint of chocolate there and steadily present the entire time they press their lips together.

Who buys candles for dinners even though there’s no special occasion: Every time they eat food is a special occasion - though, they don’t always mark it as such. Aunt May is pretty consistent about the little care packages she sends him and the one he receives right before Christmas is stuffed to the gils with decorations and silly trinkets - long red candles included. For the three weeks it takes them to burn down to nothing, Peter and Tony eat their meals by candle light. Peter mentions how much they enjoyed them to May, so there’s a new set of them in every single package she sends his way from then on out. 

Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen: Tony is terribly needy right around the time Peter starts to study for something. It’s like a sixth sense - he’s not seeing dead people, but he sure as hell is being distracting, his need for attention never ceasing. That is, of course, until he discovers just how good Peter’s skin looks with blue pen on it. Study sessions get a little easier after that, though Peter sacrifices his right arm for the sake of furthering his knowledge. The cuter ones, he doesn’t wash off right away - he lets the blue ink stick around until it fades naturally. 

Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacation: Peter usually brings back postcards. What do you buy a man that could have anything he pleased in an airport gift shop? He decides that a marker of where he was traveling would be the best idea, so he sticks to it. The one time the Atlanta airport is out of postcards, he grabs a magnet instead. It becomes a thing to see where Tony proudly displays them after that. 

Who convinces the other to fill out those couple surveys in the back of magazines: Neither of them - they don’t need any further proof about how perfectly meant to be they are.