#fatimas10kchallenge

[moonstruckbucky]

Made to Suffer [one-shot]

Summary: In a world where you’re surrounded by death, you just want to feel something.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, graphic violence, death, SMUT EXPLICIT 18+, please don’t read if under 18!, major character death

Notes: Probably one of my favorite crossovers to ever write. The Walking Dead is my favorite show besides Game of Thrones and when Fatima (@revengingbarnes ) came up with a Marvel/TV crossover challenge, I had to enter! Congrats on the milestone and thanks for hosting such an awesome challenge!

Forewarning you all, this will be graphically violent. I’m a sick bitch who loves writing gorey scenes and, come on, it’s the zombie apocalypse. There’s nothing tame about it. It’s also long as hell. Enjoy and let me know what you think! x

P.S. - For those who don’t watch TWD, “walkers” are the zombies; they don’t use the term zombies in the show.

When Bucky, Steve, and Nat were sent into a Hydra base with the intent of extracting biological weapons, they hadn’t been counting on that weapon being rigged to the entire facility, set to be released into the air upon the decimation of the building itself.

The changes weren’t immediately known. When the bomb Bucky rigged had gone off, there were no strange colored clouds dissipating into the air, no inclinations that something sinister had occurred. So how could they have known?

Patient zero was a thirty-three-year old woman from Queens, who displayed symptoms of the flu, intensified by chronic vomiting and a fever that never dropped below a hundred and five degrees. Her temperature had continued to rise until her body merely burned out and succumbed. No one, least of all the doctors assigned to her case, expected her to reanimate and escape the morgue.

Even less expected was her attacking the morgue attendant and sinking her teeth into his jugular. It only snowballed from there; hospitals and care centers rapidly filled with the sick. The military was dispatched to contain them. Sanctuaries and refugee centers were erected in all major cities.

The Avengers were outnumbered. Bruce and Helen Cho worked tirelessly on a potential cure, experimenting and testing and recalibrating until both of them were overtaken by the sick—the dead—and Steve and Natasha were forced to put them down.

It had been discovered by accident, the way to kill them for good. Destroy the brain, destroy the monster.

Bucky couldn’t believe his eyes, couldn’t believe what he was seeing on the news as images and videos of burning houses and buildings flooded the screen. The news anchors couldn’t keep the terror out of their voices as they narrated what was happening behind them. He sat in the common room, eyes red-rimmed, glassy, and focused as his leg bounced anxiously. Bruce and Helen’s deaths hit everyone hard, especially Nat and Tony, and the two of them fell into a deep depression while at the same time working furiously to recreate some kind of serum that would reverse the effects of the illness.

It was a dead end.

Eventually, Steve, Nat, Bucky, Tony, and the others were forced to leave Avengers Tower. Not even Tony had enough resources to keep them fed through this. With everything they could carry on their backs—changes of clothes in Nat and Clint’s packs, the entire Avengers pantry in Bucky and Steve’s, and the notes on a serum in Tony’s—they left the city.

It was tough, those first months out on the road. Tony insisted heading south towards Georgia, where the CDC may have held answers. They never made it. The freeways and main roads were so congested with cars and the dead that they were forced to head west instead. They ran into trouble: other, less friendly groups, hordes of the dead, packs of dogs who’d forgotten how to be the family pet.

Tony was the first of their group to die. Tetanus, if you could believe it, after scaling a building in an attempt to get their bearings. His footing slipped as he climbed, and a sharp edge of the rusted ladder sliced the inside of his forearm wide open. Sam had stopped the bleeding, but none could have predicted the symptoms that followed.

They buried him in the trees somewhere in Illinois. Nat and Steve weren’t the same. The two of them became harder, colder, more ruthless. A dangerous duo that began taking unnecessary risks in order to keep them all safe.

It cost Sam his life. It gravely injured Clint, which only caused Nat to spiral further. With the loss of Sam, Steve was inconsolable and hard as steel, so far gone that Bucky saw no trace of his best friend anymore. He and Steve butted heads; Bucky questioned every choice Steve made as the unofficially appointed leader of their group. Nat took Steve’s side every time, often resorting to physical blows when Bucky stepped out of line. He’d forgotten how lethal she could be.

It’s what inevitably led him to leaving the group. He waited until nightfall, knowing neither Steve nor Nat would willingly let him leave. Steve wouldn’t be able to handle losing his oldest friend, but Bucky could hardly be pressed to care. Steve was no longer the boy he grew up with or the patriotic, self-righteous hero who fought for Bucky’s innocence all those years ago. 

He had a feeling Nat’s super spy instincts knew when he snuck out of camp, one pack slung over his shoulder full of pilfered goods from their stores, but she either saw it coming or didn’t rightly care. He’d bet on the latter.

Survival took a toll on his body. He did his best to keep himself in peak physical form, using fallen trees as weights to bench press and jogging here and there, but he knew he was far smaller than he was. Still well-muscled and still gazelle-graceful, but thinner, paler, face sunken in with the lack of nutrition. He had trouble sleeping, nightmares flashing in his head. Only this time, they were images of his dead friends—Tony, succumbing to tetanus, unable to move a muscle; Sam, overcome and taken apart by the dead when one of Steve’s suicide runs went awry; Bruce and Helen, pale, milky-eyed, with snapping jaws and dead fingers reaching out.

He didn’t sleep much after those started, took to moving from place to place at night. He stayed in abandoned houses, raided cabinets and closets and garages for any food or weapons, slept in a storage unit once after picking the lock. His super-soldier senses aided him in avoided the dead; he could hear, smell, and see them before they saw him, giving him ample time to hide either in a building or up in a tree if he was in the wilderness.

It became routine, hide, eat, move. The loneliness didn’t bother him so much as the silence did. He didn’t have Sam’s stupid jokes or nicknames to annoy him, didn’t have Steve’s chastising voice in his ear, did have Nat giving him advice on how to combat the nightmares. Hell, he’d take Tony’s cold indifference to him over the silence. It gave him too much room to dwell, to think about anything other than survival.

Somewhere near the border of Missouri, he stopped in a gated neighborhood. His body was running on empty despite the racing of his mind. His stores were depleting, and he desperately needed to sleep. He’d risk the nightmares, just this once.

He chose a house with its door wide open. A knife in each hand, he crept through the doorway, icy eyes searching each room thoroughly for danger. Furniture, covered in layers of dust, lay tipped over in the living room. The kitchen was in a similar state of disarray, but his sharp eyes didn’t miss the disturbance of dust on the counter. The marble was stark white where something had brushed the dust away. Immediately Bucky was on high alert, ears straining for any noise.

There it was. The creak of a floorboard upstairs. Fingers tightening on his knives, he crept up the stairs on silent feet. He steadied his breathing, jaw clenched as he ascended. He rounded the corner of the stairs, gaze flitting between the three doors of the second floor. The first door bore a bedroom, a kid’s if the posters and toys was any indication (Bucky had to swallow down his unease). The second was a bathroom, revealing further evidence that someone was staying here.

He stalked to the final bedroom, poised like a predator hunting his prey. Bucky allowed just a sliver of the Soldier in, just enough to keep his focus. His body went rigid as the Soldier crept to the forefront of his mind, attention firmly on the task at hand. Shoulders straight, Bucky inched forwards, gently pushing open the door and hovering just inside the frame. His eyes swept the room, settling first on the unmade bed that looked recently slept in and continuing on to the closed closet door.

Eyes narrowing to slits, Bucky stepped forward until his nose nearly touched the door. He could pick up a heartbeat behind it, surprised to find it steady and strong. Not a dead one, then. Bucky inhaled, ready to throw the doors open, but he startled backwards as they flew open of their seemingly own accord. Before he could blink he took a boot to the chest, sending him backwards into the bed, where he collapsed and bounced upon the soft mattress.

As he sat up, he grunted as a body landed atop his chest, knees pinning his arms and a gun held to his forehead. Eyes wide with surprise, he took in the figure straddling him.

Your breathing was steady as you glared down at the man trapped beneath you. Your grip on the gun was firm, index finger hovering just over the trigger. The man’s icy eyes were wide but without any trace of fear. Instead, he looked mildly annoyed at having been bested.

“What do you want?” you growled, voice hoarse from disuse.

The man’s eyes flickered yours before they took in your gun. Jaw muscle twitching, he moved like lightning, knocking you off balance enough to wedge his hand between his head and the gun. His gloved palm pressed, disengaging the slide and rendering the gun useless. With a growl the man twisted his body, pinning you to the bed and knocking the gun out of your hands. It clattered to the floor, forgotten as you lay helpless beneath him.

Bucky held your wrists in his hands, barely having broken a sweat, and as he looked down at you, he caught a brief flash of fear behind your eyes. Coming back to himself, he loosened his grip on you just a little.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’ll let you up, but please promise me you won’t go for that gun and shoot me.”

You stayed silent, watching him closely as he released your wrists and straightened up off the bed. A small part of your brain felt saddened by the sudden loss of his weight on top of you, but you shut that down quickly. Now’s not the time.

You sat up as the man backed away, hands raised in front of him. Now that there was some distance between you, you took time to appraise him. Tall, muscular form, long-sleeved shirt that only just hid his physique. Glove on one hand, the left, long legs supported by thick thighs. Your eyes traveled up. Sharp jawline, high cheekbones that were slightly sunken in, a sharp, straight nose, deep circles under wintry blue eyes. Long, greasy dark hair hung limply in his face. 

Well, he was certainly the most attractive visitor you’d entertained recently. Another glance at his face revealed his smirk, as if he could hear your thoughts, see where your mind had gone. It hadn’t helped that you’d subconsciously tugged your bottom lip invitingly between your teeth.

Bucky was no stranger to desire, though he had to admit it hadn’t been the first thing on his mind as of late. But now, as he stood before you under your scrutinizing gaze, he couldn’t deny the rush of heat as his blood warmed beneath his skin and his heartrate increased just slightly. His own eyes roved over your form, took in the shape of your body, the curves of your waist, hips, and legs clad in tight dark pants. You wore unlaced boots.

“Who are you? And what do you want?” Your voice pulled him from the recesses of his mind, where images of you underneath him had him shifting his position as his pants grew tighter.

“Name’s Bucky. I was looking for somewhere to lay low for a bit, recharge.”

His voice was smooth like honey with a smokiness that made you shiver. The sound curled over you, warming and filling your body with want. His mouth quivered with a smile, detecting the rise in your heartbeat. 

“I can find somewhere else, if you’re uncomfortable,” he offered, eyebrow raising a little. With the way your eyes were devouring him, the hitch in your breathing, he knew it wasn’t what you wanted, but he put it out there.

“N-No,” you stammered, clearing your throat as your voice was a raspy croak. “You can stay. I have some spare supplies.”

“What’s your name?” His voice made you pause in turning around to head downstairs. You told him quietly and he nodded, stepping forward to follow you.

You shared a few canned goods with him after warming them in the fireplace, the two of you dining on opposite sides of the room. Bucky’s eyes found you in the fire light, dancing across your form as you scraped the last of your Spaghettios out of the bottom of the can and set it aside.

“How long have you been alone?” he asked, almost hesitantly. Your eyes lifted to the flames, glossing over just a bit as you thought.

“Not long,” you eventually replied. Your sister was the last to die, only about three weeks ago now. He didn’t press further. “You?”

“Few months, I think. Gets hard to keep track of time.”

You hummed in agreement but froze as footsteps on your porch pulled your attention. Bucky was on high alert, back straight and shoulders rigid, eyes flying to the door. A muffled gurgle made you relax.

“Just a walker. It’ll go away,” you muttered, shoulders sagging against the chair. Bucky took a little longer to relax, wanting to make sure one wouldn’t turn into fifty.

When the walker wandered off, its interest pulled somewhere else, Bucky sat back with a sigh. Crossing his arms over his chest, he tipped his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. It allowed you a moment to look him over again. He was a specimen, that’s for sure, even with his slightly-sunken face. Your body warmed again, flushing deliciously. You shifted on the floor, attempting to quell the sudden ache between your legs.

When he shifted and straightened again, you averted your eyes to the fire, trying and failing to hold back a yawn.

“Get some sleep,” Bucky’s voice cut through the silence. “I’ll keep watch.”

You thought about arguing, took in the darkness under his eyes, but his strong, insistent gaze tied up your tongue. You nodded, sighing as you stood and stretched. You bid him a quiet goodnight before heading upstairs to your bedroom.

You hadn’t been asleep long when the nightmares began. They were always the same: your family, falling victim to the dead one by one. Your father, taken by surprise on a supply run; your brother, shot by accident when your sister tried to save the two of you; your niece and nephew, far too young to experience something as agonizing as starvation; your mother, so overcome with grief that she walked herself into a group of walkers; and finally, your sister, killed by another group, hostile and barbaric.

Downstairs, Bucky dozed lightly, brain still very much awake. A quiet whimper jostled him awake before a louder shriek spurred him into action. He took the stairs two at a time, just as you let out another scream. He slammed into the bedroom door, nearly taking it off its hinges, and his eyes found your body on the bed, sheets twisted around your bared legs, sweating shining in the moonlight streaming through the window.

He said your name, winced when all he received was another painful whimper.

“Mom,” your voice cried out. “Please, no!”

No stranger to nightmares, Bucky walked to the bed and grasped your shoulders in his large hands, shaking you gently. He repeated your name.

“Hey, wake up, doll, wake up! It’s a dream!” he implored, jumping back when you awoke with a gasp. Your hands came up to grasp his wrists, your brow furrowing when the gloved one didn’t give under your grip.

“Bucky?” you asked breathlessly, and, damn it, if that wasn’t the sexiest sound he’d ever heard. His body reacted, stomach clenching, cock twitching in his pants. He swallowed down the desire welling up within him and licked his dry lips.

“I’m here. Are you all right?” he whispered, gloved hand reaching up towards your face before he rethought it and pulled it back.

Your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks, damp with sweat and tears. Wordlessly, you reached out for him, fingers curling around his forearms to pull him down closer. Noses brushing, he could feel your breaths on his lips, his muscles straining with restraint. 

“I need you,” you pleaded, the words hovering between you before you could rethink it. You could see the slight hesitation in his eyes even as his pupils dilated, nearly swallowing the icy blueness of his irises. “Please, just let me feel something.”

Your lips swallowed his gasp as you surged upwards off the bed and you gave him no time to pull away. Your mouth opened under his, tongue gliding along the seam of his mouth. His brows furrowed in momentary confusion until your tongue licked into his mouth, tasting him. His moan was muffled by you and he let himself fall forward onto the bed, propped on his elbows.

His mouth was pliant against yours, filling you with a warmth you haven’t felt in....years. Curling your fingers into his shirt, you tugged him down, causing him to nearly lose his balance as his feet slipped along the floor. He adjusted, lifting a knee onto the plush mattress, and settled above you.

His hands lit a fire under your skin wherever he touched, your waist, your hips, your breasts. When he gently squeezed the soft mounds, you mewled into his mouth, back bowing to arch into his touch. He squeezed his eyes shut when your hands splayed against his chest before diving low to the hem of his shirt. Stomach clenching as your nails tickled him, his mouth dropped open and he sighed.

His head felt fuzzy yet awakened as you pressed yourself against him, lifted the shirt from his torso and bodily rolled him over. Your lips carved a path down his scruffy jaw, to his neck, where your teeth nipped at his pulse point and his cock twitched inside his jeans. He felt your smirk against his skin as you continued to map out his body, hands and lips and tongue combining to nearly make him combust. 

It had been so long since he’d been touched, and with the way your hands and mouth were working him over, he was momentarily worried this would be over far sooner than he wanted it to be. Your deft fingers tugged his belt buckle free, slid the zipper on his jeans down. He lifted his hips, blushed crimson at your smirk to find him bare beneath the denim.

You nipped at his inner thighs, sending pleasant shivers right up his spine. He was harder than marble, his cockhead purple and leaking and begging for your touch. Yet you continued to dance around it, pressing kisses to his hip bones, dipping your tongue along his Adonis belt, driving him mad with want. He gasped, head thrown back against your pillow when you suckled at one of his balls, the wet warmth of your mouth nearly his undoing. 

“D-Doll,” he whimpered, his flesh hand drifting down to tangle in your hair. “Please. Please touch me.”

Your eyes flickered up to him, pupils wide and wanting and full of mischief. Minx. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Bucky would swear he died and went to heaven when you finally, finally put your mouth on him. Eased down his length inch by slow, agonizing inch, and it took all of his super-soldier strength not to thrust upwards and bury himself down your throat. His mouth dropped open, a deep groan wrenching from his throat when he hit the back of your throat and you swallowed around him.

Sweat beaded across his forehead, bottom lip pinched painfully in his teeth as he rocked his hips to the rhythm of your mouth. Fire gathered in his belly, electricity zipping up his spine, and he strangled out a protest, fingers tightening in your hair.

You pulled off him with a wet pop that had the muscles in his thighs clenching. Climbed up his body to settle yourself on his lap. Fire radiated from your core, and he could feel your wetness, itched to bury himself to the hilt. But he took his time stripping you of the sleeping clothes you wore, admired each reveal of bare skin.

Finally, naked on top of him, your wetness allowing him to glide along your folds. Nails carving crescents into his chest as he arched his hips and slid seamlessly inside you. Head thrown back as your body found a rhythm. Bucky danced his hands along your sides, watching as goose flesh rose in the wake of his metal one. When a silver fingertip circled a nipple, you whimpered and pressed your breasts closer.

With your velvet warmth engulfing him, he released embarrassingly fast. But you continued to rock even as his warmth gushed inside you and reached for his metal hand. Brought it to the apex of your thighs where he wound tight little circles to send you careening over the edge with a sharp cry.

Jesus fuck, he nearly came again with the sensation of you tightening around him, fluttering around him as your body went lax above him. You leaned forward over his chest, eyes glassy and completely blissed out. Brushed a wayward lock of his hair behind his ear and kissed him once. Head tucked under his chin,  him softening inside you, it was peaceful, quiet, the sounds of your breaths the only sound in the room.

He swept a hand over your back. The metal one, and you shivered, nudging closer with a hum. You fell asleep like that, and after a few moments of your soft breaths, Bucky followed.

The next morning, he was woken by a buzzing. A steady, but rising hum that had his eyelids fluttering. He was on his side, curled around you as you slumbered away. He lifted his head from the pillow, blearily looking around the room. Nothing.

Rising from the bed, padding to the window, a moment of silent shock before he was thrown into action.

He shook you awake at the same time he tugged on his pants, a sense of urgency pulling you out of your deep sleep. Took in his panicked eyes, mouth moving, telling you you need to move. A herd outside, bigger than any he’s ever seen.

Must’ve been walking for days, gathered numbers beyond countable, made its way here.

You insisted you could wait it out, stay silent and let it pass. But Bucky wasn’t hearing it, countering that the herd would take down the whole house and end  up inside anyways. He tossed you your belongings, nearly knocked you out with a boot, and you hurried to dress and gather your weapons.

You led him out the back, quick and silent and through the trees surrounding the yard. There were stragglers out here, not enough to be cumbersome but enough to keep your alertness on high. Bucky’s assassin training went into overdrive, ears and eyes straining for any sign of the massive herd. A deafening crack as it no doubt nearly leveled a house with its strength. He wouldn’t say it, but he was scared, especially since you weren’t as silent as he was, and more and more walkers appeared out from behind trees like some kind of Halloween walk.

Sweat poured into his eyes, hair plastered to his forehead, he went cold when he heard your shriek. Three of the dead around you, dead fingers had your arms in a vice. Bucky saw red. Disposed of them with a brutality he hadn’t seen since his Winter Soldier days while you looked on in a weird combination of pride and horror. Arm gripped tightly in his metal fist, he pulled you along. It wasn’t a mission this time driving him, it was fear. For you.

In a day he’d found you wormed inside him, inside his heart, and instead of a mission to kill, he was on a mission to save. The thought would have been amusing had he not turned into a tightly-clustered copse of trees and barreled straight into five of them.

He went down, two of the dead following him while the others went right for you. With the strength of ten men he bashed their dead heads together, grimacing at the explosion of decayed, viscous, black brain matter that probably would stain his clothes. He pressed his mouth in a tight line as it dripped onto his face, and your shout of agony filled him with both ice and fire. 

He turned, body stilling completely as he took in the jagged shape of teeth in the junction of your shoulder and neck. Blood seeped into your clothing, leaked from the wound in angry red torrents, and you pressed a hand uselessly to it. It oozed between your fingers, dripped down your arm like something out of a horror movie. Your complexion was paling quickly. The snarling of more walkers made you turn, resigned. You turned glassy, shining eyes to him when he approached, hands hovering over the wound.

He didn’t think he’d ever felt so helpless. Not when he was strapped to that machine in Siberia. But this was a new sense of helplessness, watching you bleed out in front of him. The new walkers stumbled closer, driven by the scent of blood, and you pulled a gun from the waistband of your jeans, usually a last resort, and he knew.

“You need to go,” you said, voice quiet and hoarse and barely restrained with the fear that was so obvious in your eyes. Your fingers racked the slide, thumb flicking the safety. Rolled up on your toes to press a deep, salty kiss to his mouth before you wrenched away and began yelling, leading the walkers in the opposite direction of Bucky.

Bucky, who still hadn’t moved an inch. Only watched as the small group stumbled after you. One at the back strayed off, was put down by Bucky’s metal fist, and then he ran.

He could hear you yelling, urging the dead after you. Then the shots started, your yelling punctuated by a gunshot then.

Silence.

No more shouting, no more gunshots, and Bucky wanted to go back for you, though he knew it would be for nothing. He let himself cry as he ran, weaving in and out of trees until a lone hunting cabin loomed in the distance.

It was free of the dead. Cleared of anything living, dead, or otherwise, and he laid low. Mourned for you, threw a few of the cabin’s belongings in a sorrowful rage.

He spent a few days there, gathered a couple of squirrels and a fish from a nearby creek, and then he moved on. It was all he could do.

Move on.

[littlemarvelfics]

Rogers’s Anatomy

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Word Count: about 2.3k

Warnings: alcohol, spoilers for the first two seasons of Grey’s Anatomy

A/N: Hi hello! This is for @revengingbarnes‘s challenge! My prompt was Grey’s Anatomy and I LOVED writing this. I know the title doesn’t really make sense but that’s how it goes sometimes y’all. I’m obsessed with the beginning seasons of Grey’s Anatomy so I’m considering making these a short series or something. Anyway! On with the show!

You let out a sigh, releasing the tension in your shoulders before turning back to the bartender.

“He’s gonna show, right?” you asked.

“He’ll show,” Phill responded honestly.

You slowly sipped your drink, eyes floating around the bar. It looked the same as the night you’d met him. Steve. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to that night.

It was damp outside as it often was in this city. You had just come from the “get to know you mixer” at your new job: surgical intern at Seattle Grace Hospital. You leaned forward and ordered a classic favorite of yours- tequila, straight.

“You sure about that? You might be sorry in the morning,” the bartender commented.

“I’m always sorry in the morning,” you replied with a smirk. “But tomorrow is my first day at a brand new job, so keep ‘em coming yeah?”

You saw movement in your peripheral vision, someone sitting on the stool next to you. You hoped they were looking for the same thing you were- silence. You could see him slightly. He was dressed nicely, a tight blue shirt straining over his biceps. He had dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, a light scuff of hair covered his jaw. You were quickly disappointed when you heard the man next to you speak.

“Double scotch, single malt please,” he said to the bartender before turning to you. “Is this a good place to hang out?”

“Wouldn’t know,” you said quickly. “Never been here before.”

He seemed almost pleased with this information.

“Oh well, you know what, I haven’t either. First time in town,” he rambled. “I’m new in town. First time in Seattle. I got a job so…” he trailed off, realizing you hadn’t even glanced at him. “And you’re ignoring me.”

“I’m trying to,” you said, exaggerating your cheerfulness.

“You shouldn’t ignore me,” he responded smoothly.

“Why not?” you asked, finally facing him and taking the bait.

“Because I’m someone you need to get to know, to love,” he said, a smug grin on his face.

“So if I know you, I’ll love you?”

“Yup.”

“You just really like yourself huh?” you asked skeptically.

“Just hiding my pain,” he said, still sporting his smug grin. “So what’s your story?”

“I don’t have a story,” you said simply. “I’m just a girl in a bar.”

“Well, I’m just a guy in a bar.”

One thing led to another and you ended up back at your house. You didn’t even make it up to the bedroom, falling onto the couch. You woke up to him on the floor, throwing a pillow at him to wake him up. He groped around, likely looking for something to protect his eyes from the morning sun but instead, came back with your bra from the night before.

“This is…”

“Humiliating. On every possible level. You have to go,” you said tensely.

You watched him sit up, a blanket dropping down to reveal his toned chest.

“Why don’t you come back down here and we can pick up where we left off last night?” he said with a smirk.

“No, seriously. You have to go. I’m very late which isn’t what you want to be on your first day of work, so…” you trailed off, hoping he would get up and leave so you could get ready.

“Huh, you do actually live here,” he said.

“No. Yes. Kind of,” you replied, stumbling on your words.

“Oh,” he mumbled, pausing to look around. “It's nice. Little dusty. Odd. But it's nice. So how do you kind of live here?”

“I moved two weeks ago from Boston, it was my mother's house, I'm selling it,” you explained quickly, hoping he would leave.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” he said, getting dressed in his clothes from the night before.

“For what?” you asked, confused.

“You said was,” he responded, letting you make the same connection he did.

“Oh! My mother's not dead, she's,” you took a deep breath and ran your hand through your hair.  “You know what, we don't have to do the thing.”

“Oh. We can do anything you want,” he said with a smug smirk.

“No, the thing, exchange the details, pretend we care,” you paused and cocked your head to the side. “Look, I'm gonna go upstairs and take a shower, okay, and when I get back down here, you won't be here, so, um, goodbye… um,” you paused, forgetting the man’s name.

“Steve,” he said, sticking out his hand for you to shake.

“Steve, right,” you confirmed, telling him your name.

Steve repeated your name back to you with a smile. Moving towards you, he leaned in for what you assumed for a kiss. You gave a smile and stepped back, shaking your head.

“It was nice meeting you,” he said with a smile.

“Bye Steve,” you said, returning his smile before turning to run up the stairs for your shower.

You showered and dressed quickly- your scrubs were in your new work locker so you dressed in street clothes, heading to your car quickly. Your day went by fairly quickly. The environment was stressful but you knew how to handle it. You worked your ass off and met some new people. The day was going smoothly until it came to a screeching halt. You were rounding the corner when you saw him- the guy from last night. Steve. You made eye contact with him and you could tell he recognized you instantly. You turned around and quickly walked away, hoping you could avoid him for the rest of your shift. About an hour later, you were pulled into a stairwell and you knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid the conversation.

“Dr. Rogers,” you greeted coolly.

“Dr. Rogers?” he questioned with a raised brow. “This morning it was Steve. Now it's Dr. Rogers.”

“Dr. Rogers,” you said again. “We should pretend it never happened.”

“What never happened, you sleeping with me last night? Or you throwing me out this morning? Because both are fond memories I'd like to hold onto,” Steve joked.

“No,” you said firmly. “There will be no memories. I'm not the girl in the bar anymore, and you're not the guy. This can't exist. You get that, right?”

“You took advantage of me and now you want to forget about it,” he said, matter of factly.

“I did not take-” you started, but Steve quickly interrupted.

“I was drunk, vulnerable and good-looking and you took advantage.”

Despite your annoyance with the situation, you smiled.

“Okay, I was the one who was drunk,” you corrected. “And you are not that good-looking.”

“Well, maybe not today in the cold hard light of day. But last night? Last night I was very good-looking. I had my blue shirt on, my good-looking shirt, you took advantage.”

“I did not take-” you tried to defend again, but Steve cut you off once again.

“You want to take advantage again? Say Friday night?”

“No. You're an attending. And I'm your intern,” you paused when you realized his eyes were looking you up and down. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you've seen me naked,” you whispered harshly.

Steve gave you a smirk, still looking at you in the same way.

“Dr. Rogers. This is inappropriate. Has that ever occurred to you?” you questioned.

You walked out of the stairwell and away from Steve, lost in thought as you wandered through the hospital. You didn’t have a career yet. As a woman trying to be a surgeon, you knew the cards were stacked against you. The last thing you needed was someone starting rumors that you were sleeping with attendings to get ahead. It would ruin your career before it even began.  

You were ripped from the past when you heard the door to the bar open. You whipped your head around and held your breath until you saw someone round the corner. Someone who wasn’t Steve. Your eyes followed them while they made their way back to their group of friends before you turned your attention back to your empty glass. You looked up at Phill who gave you a sympathetic smile and a new drink. You let your mind wander to Steve- not that you had stopped thinking about him since earlier in the evening.

Despite your reluctance, you and Steve started a relationship of sorts. It was going well until one night brought it all crashing down and led you to where you were now. You groaned internally as the memory came flying back to you.

It had been a long day of work but you had something, or rather someone, to look forward to. Steve was meeting you in the lobby. You walked towards him, shrugging on your jacket as you went. You smiled as he greeted you, the two of you exchanging hellos quickly before moving to leave the hospital. Steve turned away to lead you out when he suddenly stopped.

“I am so sorry,” he mumbled.

Before you could ask him what he meant, a blonde woman approached you in her professional, attractive outfit.

“Sharon,” Steve greeted coldly. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you'd know if you'd bothered to return any one of my phone calls,” the woman you assumed was Sharon responded sharply.

“Hi. I'm Sharon Rogers,” she said, turning to you to shake your hand.

“Rogers?” you questioned.

“And you must be the woman who's been screwing my husband,” she remarked.

That night, you left without Steve. It didn’t take long for everyone to figure out what happened. Steve was married to Sharon, they were both big-name doctors back in New York. Sharon cheated on Steve so he left, took a plane to Seattle and didn’t look back until she showed up at Seattle Grace. Nick Fury, the chief of medicine, had called her in for a difficult case and she had just stayed. You and Sharon were both fighting for Steve until the night you decided you were done. Steve wouldn’t sign his divorce papers and you were tired of being the other woman. You said you were out. Until about two hours ago.

After a long surgery, you had followed Steve into a scrub room to talk to him.

“I lied,” you said. “I'm not out ... of this relationship. I'm in. I'm so in, it's humiliating because here I am begging…”

Steve tried interrupting you by saying your name quietly.

“Shut up. You say my name and I yell, remember?” you said, referring to an earlier joke.

“Yeah,” he said with a small smile, leaning against a sink and giving you his full attention.

You took a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts.

“Ok, here it is. Your choice. It's simple,” you started, already feeling tears fill your eyes. “Her or me. And I'm sure she's really great. But, Steve... I love you... in a really, really big ... "pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window"...unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me. Choose me. Love me,” you finished, shrugging as if it was the obvious choice.

Steve looked at you, love written all over his face. He grasped your elbow and leaned forward but you pulled back.

“I'll be at Phill’s tonight. If you do decide to sign the papers, meet me there,” you said, walking out of the scrub room without giving him a chance to respond.

You found yourself staring into your empty glass- he still hadn’t shown up. You looked up at Phil as he passed by.

“I actually said, ‘Pick me.’ Right? I did? ‘Pick me’?” you questioned.

“I think it's romantic,” he responded.

“It's not romantic, Phill, it's horrifying!” you exclaimed. “Horror movie horrifying. Carrie at the prom with the pig's blood horrifying.”

“Ok, fine, it's horrifying. But Carrie took out an entire senior class as revenge. Gotta say, I like that in a girl,” he comforted.

“I said ‘Pick me,’” you mumbled to yourself.

You heard your friends, Wanda, Natasha and Clint mumbling behind you, all you could hear was your name and pathetic. You whipped around to face them.

“Who's pathetic?” you demanded.  Wanda and Clint looked over at Natasha, glaring at her slightly.

“What?” Natasha asked, feigning innocence.  

“You, who pretend to be my friends are calling me pathetic behind my back in front of my face,” you said in your slightly inebriated state. Clint pointed to Natasha and then threw his hand up, claiming innocence.

“Why don't you just dump the pig's blood on me now and get it over with?”

All three of them looked confused but before you could explain yourself, Clint’s pager went off, signaling he was needed back at the hospital. Before long, everyone’s pager was going off, including your own.

“Phill! Turn up the TV,” someone shouted.

“A massive train wreck occurred just outside of Seattle just minutes ago. The Vancouver-bound train was carrying over 300 passengers. Paramedics are on scene helping victims,” the TV droned on.

“That explains the pagers,” Wanda said. “We just worked a thirty-hour shift.”

“I don't have any clean underwear,” Clint mumbled to himself.

You all started grabbing your things, dreading what would happen when you got back to the hospital. Phill noticed you picking up your bag.

“You're leaving? No, no, no, you can't leave,” he said.

“Sorry, gotta go tend to someone else's train wreck,” you joked.

“You gotta at least stay for a cup of coffee. You're in no shape to cut people open. Plus,” he paused as he shrugged. “I don't wanna miss the ending.”

“You coming?” Nat called from the door.

“Maybe it's for the best. Maybe I don't wanna know,” you said in defeat while you walked towards the door.

“That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard,” Phill called out after you.

“Goodnight Phill,” you said as you exited the bar.

A half hour later, Steve burst through the door of the bar looking disheveled. Phill saw him and rolled his eyes.

“You’re too late man.”

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

First Impressions

Summary: With the multiverse now in play, we visit an alternate universe where Steve Rogers is America’s first bisexual contestant on the ever popular and never lacking dating show, The Bachelor. Nick Fury is your illustrious host through the shocking announcement, contestant biographies, and the first night in the mansion. Only one question remains; who will get the first impression rose on what is promised to be the most dramatic season ever!? Pairing: Steve x Avengers Warning(s): Language. Kissing. A hell of a lot of cringe and bachelor/bachelorette tropes. Word Count: 3,238 Beta: The darling sweetheart @supersoldiersruined-me Notes: This is my entry to @revengingbarnes 10K writing challenge. My prompt was a Bachelor AU. Thank you so much for hosting this, Fatima! This prompt was honestly a challenge for me. I wasn’t sure which point of view and formatting I wanted. It’s certainly unlike anything I’ve ever written. Please no one hate me if I made your fav annoying. I just wanted to fit in as many bachelor personality tropes. The fic isn’t an actual representation of my thoughts on each character. 

Live Studio Audience: Intro

“Good evening and welcome to this exciting season of The Bachelor. I’m Nick Fury, your host for tonight.” The studio audience erupts into choreographed uproar. “Looks like Bachelor Nation is out in full force tonight. Are you all ready for what I promise is our most dramatic season ever?”

Nick commands the stage with a casual grace that only comes from years of hosting. “Last season you all watched as the beautiful bombshell Peggy Carter embarked on her quest for love; which she found with her now fiance. While we wish her the best of luck with her engagement, we couldn’t help be as heartbroken as you all were when a particular fan favorite was booted just before hometown dates. Let’s take a look at this season’s Bachelor!”

Broadcast: Steve’s Bio

“My name is Steve Rogers. I’m twenty-six years old. Born and raised in Brooklyn. You may know me from Peggy Carter’s season of The Bachelorette.”

The audience is treated with a montage of Steve at home in Brooklyn. He walks down the street to a corner bodega on a spring day; smiling and greeting the owner at the counter like they’re old friends. The old tabby cat sat on the counter near the register curls into his hand as he scratches behind her ears.

“A little known fact about me is that I really love cooking.” The next shot is him cooking a large family style meal in a stunning modern kitchen. The black hexagon tiles frame the close up of the saute pan as he flips the food; clearly practiced. The camera zooms in once more for a close up shot of Steve’s large calloused hands making deft work of chiffonading the basal to top his culinary masterpiece. As far as lusting goes, the depiction of Steve as the bachelor is a lot less macho and hits more boy-next-door.

“Things didn’t quite work out with Peggy and I. While we’re kindred souls, I think it just wasn’t the right time.” Steve’s no longer shown at home in his cozy apartment but in a carefully crafted video confessional booth.

The audience hears the producer’s voice off screen, “Do you think you’re over her? Are you ready for love?”

“Definitely. I learned a lot from Peggy. I learned who I am and what I need from a relationship. I’m ready for the whole damn thing. I want a partner, I want kids. I like pretty pedestrian, domestic things.” He looks down at his lap, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “I like ceremony. I wanna carve pumpkins and do the tree at christmas; all that.”

“Anything else you’d like to add to your intro?” The producers prompt. Steve’s broad shoulders straighten and take up much of the booth; his body tense with nervous energy which he masks with a radiant smile. He takes a deep breath before looking the camera dead in the eye.

“I’m Steve Rogers… and I’m the first bisexual Bachelor.”

Live Studio Audience:

The audience goes wild; homemade signs wave, men and women alike scream their delight. Nick Fury stands in the small center stage waiting for the crowds applause to dissipate.

“So needless to say, this season will be unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.” He smirks at the camera knowingly. “Before we jump back into tonight’s episode, would you guys like to hear from America’s sweetheart himself?” More incoherent cheering. “Let’s bring him on out!”

Steve appears from behind the crimson velvet curtain waving sheepishly. They’ve slicked back his locks doing nothing to detract from the classic bachelor look. He unbuttons the slim navy suit jacket as Fury gestures for him to sit on the small interview couch.

“Welcome, Steve. How ya feeling tonight?”

“Not gonna lie, Nick. I feel super nervous.” He fidgets in the seat a bit; rubbing the flats of his palms on the tops of his thighs. “Being the bachelor is one thing. Being the first bisexual bachelor is another.”

“Well I’m not sure about you guys, but I thought it was about time!” Nick’s enthusiasm draws more cheering from the crowd. “We got to know you on Peggy’s season and America just fell in love with you. You’re such a great guy; so genuine and compassionate.”

“Thank you, really, thank you. I honestly was terrified to be the first bisexual man on the show. Being the bachelor has always traditionally been typecast as a very specific type of man; one that I didn’t really see myself fitting into. So to be given this opportunity to find love and to have the support that I’ve gotten since the announcement has been beyond my wildest dreams.”

“You ready to jump into your season?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“While Steve may be our first bisexual bachelor, you can expect not much to change on the show. Each week contestants will be eliminated at a traditional rose ceremony. We’ll still have the first impression rose, hometown dates, and the always anticipated fantasy suits!”

Fury eyes Steve hoping to make him squirm a bit. Steve manages to make his sinful blush look composed while he chuckles.

“Without further ado let’s meet the delightful men and women vying for a spot in Steve’s heart.”

Broadcast: Contestant Bios

“My name? Tony Stark. Don’t worry about having your little design guys whip me a tagline; I’m certain no one needs it. Household name n’ all.” A smirking brunette stares directly into the camera and winks. He’s wearing rose tinted sunglasses despite the dimmed lighting of the interview space. “So what do you wanna know?”

The producers sigh before proceeding. “Tell us a bit about yourself.”

The camera stays in the testimonial booth but now a blonde women occupies the seat. Unlike the previous occupant she isn’t slouching but sits with excellent posture and poise.

“My name is Sharon McCarter. I’m an agent for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. I need someone who’s ready for a fast paced lifestyle. My job keeps me on my toes.”

“What did you think when Steve was announced as the bachelor? What did you think of him being bisexual?”

“Honestly?” Sharon pauses a bit buffudled. “He seems a bit more clean cut then the guys I usually go for.” She looks at the camera with a hesitant smile.

“What would you say your passion is?”

“Fitness. Fitness and health, for sure.” The booth is now overwhelmed with an exceptionally huge man. His long blonde hair falls to his shoulders with delicate braids mixed into his locks. “I’m Thor Odinson. I own and operate Odinsons Gym with my brother Loki.”

“How would you describe yourself as a partner. What could Steve expect?”

Thor continues in his deep voice. It carries subtle hint of an accent not from the states, “Steve could expect the rough sexiness of a pirate mixed with the pure innocence of an angel; the perfect boyfriend if you ask me.”

“What kind of partner do you hope to be for Steve?”

“An attentive one. I’m a scientist by profession.” The tagline on the screen says that the brunette with the tossed curls currently answering his interview questions is Bruce Banner. “A good part of my job is being detail oriented and focused. I’d like to think I bring that same level of attentiveness and sensitivity to my partner.”

Live Studio Audience:

“Welcome back, Bachelor Nation! It looks like Steve has a great batch of men and women who couldn’t be more excited to get their journey started. Let’s see how Steve get’s along navigating his first night in Bachelor Mansion.

Show Footage:

The camera pans across a gorgeous california night sky and comes to land on Steve standing in front of Bachelor Mansion. They have him perfectly centered between two backlit trees with the ornate floral fountain babbling as a soundtrack. He fidgets with his plain black tie waiting for the first limo to pull up. He stares into the camera and mouths a very endearing “What do I do with my hands!”

From that moment on, it’s a parade of individuals dressed to the nines. The women stun in their gleaming and silky ball gowns. The men glow in their crisp suits. Each give their cheesy one liners to Steve before heading into the mansion.

A man named Phil, who insists that Steve call him Coulson, gives him a red, white, and blue sash emblazoned with the words America’s Sweetheart on it while wearing his own sash reading Mr. America. A women named Wanda introduces herself in a thick, sultry accent.

“Where are you from, Wanda?”

“Sakovia. I’m so excited to meet you. I look forward to teaching you about my culture and getting to know you better.”

After Wanda, the next person out of the limo is Clint. He makes a qippy one liner before sauntering into the mansion. A woman named Carol strolls confidently out of the limo nearly glowing in her crimson and gold gown. Next comes a bird. It’s not actually a bird; but rather a man in an oversized mascot type costume.

“Did you know that eagles mate for life?”

Steve stares at the camera for half a second as if questioning if the producers are serious. “I didn’t know that. Any chance I can see the eagle’s face? Or at least know his name?”

“We’ll save the pretty face for later, but the name is Sam.”

Steve takes a moment to compose himself after the bird’s introduction. The final woman exits the limo. She’s in a simple black dress that hugs her body dangerously. Her flame red hair cascades down one shoulder. Her introduction is clipped and to the point. Steve places a hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

Her face softens then. “It’s Natasha, but you can call me Nat.”

After the train of individuals Steve is looking more relaxed. He seems to have settled into his role with less nerves than when the show began. The final contestant steps out of the limo.

“Good evening, Steve. My name is James Barnes. You look so handsome tonight.”

Steve takes in the man across from him. He’s got equally broad shoulders as Steve; they’re nearly matched in height. He wears his silky brown locks at shoulder length with a dainty waterfall braid on one side. The baby blue of his pocket square matches his eyes.

“I can’t wait to get to know you, James.”

**************************************************************************************************

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, settle down. You all know who I am already,” Nick Fury is addressing all the contestants as they make themselves comfortable in the front living room at the mansion. “Steve! Why don’t you come on in here and get this cocktail party started?”

Steve enters the room gracefully. “I just want to thank you all for being here. I know that putting yourself out there in a new relationship is never easy; let alone in a situation like this one. It’s incredibly important to me that you all are your genuine selves. I wanna get to know the real you. Here’s to the start of something amazing!”

He raises his glass to a chorus of agreeing voices. There’s a half second of adjustment before Tony clasps Steve’s hand and tugs him away from the group.

“I’m gonna steal you first.”

Despite his depiction as an arrogant ass in his interview, Tony actually has a pleasant conversation with Steve. The audience is left wondering if Tony is the likeable wild card or this seasons possible obnoxious villain. Before Tony saunters off, he presses a deep kiss onto Steve’s lips.

“Had to get you first, handsome.” He winks and heads to the bar to refresh his drink.

Steve stares into the camera and states, “I guess we’re starting things off with a bang?”

**************************************************************************************************

Clint, being the critical observer, saunters over to the bar to find that Coulson is already posted up on one of the bar stools. It’s by sheer force of will that Coulson is upright as the lack of armrests and amount of alcohol he’s clearly consumed are working against him. Clint quickly surveys the situation and makes eye contact with the camera.

“How ya doin’ there Phil? Save some for us, huh?” Beneath the joke there is a hint of concern in his voice. It would appear the concern is warranted as Phil tips dangerously towards the edge of his seat before righting himself. The first stumble is corrected but the second lands him on the floor. “Whoa big guy. Can I get some help here? Producers? I think first night nerves may have lead Phil to throw back one too many.”

“No pro-hicc-ducers. I’m fine. I’m fiiiine,” Phil slurs. Despite Clint’s efforts to keep him upright he’s laying on the floor, cheek pressed firmly to the cold tile. “I just love Steve-hicc-so much. Ya know?”

“Sure you do buddy...sure you do?”

**************************************************************************************************

Steve speaks to Wanda, Bruce, and Thor in a series of rapid fire exchanges over the next couple of hours. After a warm conversation, Carol leaves Steve lounging on the plush chaise; promising that one day they’ll go stargazing together.

“No one told me these cocktail parties were so exhausting.” The camera crew chuckle. It’s endearing how much Steve utilizes them to break the tension. His unfiltered emotions only make him that much more of an approachable sweetheart. The makeup staff powder his face as Nick Fury approaches.

“We have about a half hour before the rose ceremony. Just a heads up. Any conversations you wanna have, have them now.”

Steve meanders through the expansive grounds. He’s clearly looking for something. He brushes off Thor asking for a second conversation with a polite excuse before take another turn in the winding paths.  He turns his head over his shoulder to ask the camera men which way back inside when he collides with something. Someone.

“It’s probably ill advised to get the attention of the man of your affections by knocking him on his ass, huh?” Bucky jokes. “I actually was coming to grab you for a conversation. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you all night.”

The two men are sat side by side, dress pants rolled up to their knees, while their legs swing gentle waves into the surface of the pool. Dusk has gone and night has come. They’ve been talking for some time now. They’ve both discarded their suit jackets but it’s done nothing to prevent the evening humidity from clinging their shirts to their muscles.

“I have to ask. I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

“Is that you cheesily telling me you feel like you’ve known me for one hundred years?” Steve asks in a singsong mocking tone.

“No! Punk! I’m serious though.” Bucky thinks for a moment before exclaiming, “Do you go to that bodega on the corner of Clark and Henry with Mr. O’Sullivan and his cat Maevie?”

“See I was having a great time chatting with you but now I have to send you home cause clearly you’re a stalker.”

“I knew it! You look...different?”

Steve chuckles gently. “I bulked up a bit for the show. Had to fit the ‘look’ ya know?”

“I feel like such an idiot for not talking to you sooner but I hadn’t seen you there in a long time. I usually go super late though.” Bucky looks down at his hands; there’s more to the statement than he’s letting on.

“Chatting with Mr. O’Sullivan is always a good way to pass the time when insomnia strikes.” Bucky looks up at Steve in shock. He’s ready to explain himself but Steve jumps up abruptly out of the pool. “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave.”

In Steve’s haste to stand, he’s soaked most of his dress pants all the way through. He follows the twists and turns of the gardens and seating areas. Natasha sees him approaching the bench she’s sat at with Wanda. She raises her hand to grab his attention but before she can even get his name out of her mouth his jogged past.

“He’s disappeared for nearly an hour, no one could find him, and then he’s just not gonna talk to the rest of us?” Disappointment clouds her features as she sits back down next to Wanda with a plop.

“I’m so excited to talk to him. He’s just got great energy-” Sam’s discussion with Bruce is cut off by Steve skidding into the living room; wet bare feet nearly have him knocked on his ass for the second time tonight. “There’s the man of the hour himself. Can I steal you?”

Sam stands confidently looking rather hopeful; bird costume now discarded. Steve does a double take eyeing him top to bottom. He rests both his hands on the top of Sam’s shoulders before speaking.

“I would love to have a conversation with you. There’s just one thing I have to do first.” With that Steve takes off once more. He sprints to the small side table in the entryway. On the table sits a delicate gold tray holding a single rose. He quickly snatches it before dashing back out to the pool.

“Hey now. You may be more beefed up but I’m certain your probably still capable of cracking your head open. Careful now.” Bucky tuts laughing at the breakneck pace. His laughter is quickly stifled when he sees what’s in Steve's open palm.

“James-”

“It’s Bucky. Everyone close to me calls me Bucky.”

“Bucky… coming into tonight I was terrified. I know that sounds like the typical monologue speech I have to give but I was near ready to toss my cookies out front when the limo first opened. I had no idea what to expect and had convinced myself I’d made a huge mistake putting myself out here.”

Bucky takes a single foot out of the water and tucks it beneath his body to better face Steve. The hand that isn’t holding the rose is fidgeting with a fold of fabric from his pants. Bucky reaches out and plants his palm on top of the blondes ceasing the movement. His thumb strokes small circles onto the back of Steve’s hand; it seems to allow Steve to continue with what he has to say.

“My anxiety was at an all time high and then out you came. Speaking to you tonight has been the first time since agreeing to be the bachelor that I feel like I’m doing something right. I want to thank you for putting me at ease and being your true self.”

“You’re welcome, punk.” The joking nickname sounds more affectionate than insult.

“Bucky, will you accept this rose?”

“I’d be honored.”

Steve untwines his hand to pin the crimson rose to Bucky’s lapel. His hands hesitate once the rose is in place as if debating their next action. There’s a half second pause before Steve gently tugs on Bucky’s tie drawing the brunette into a kiss.

Bucky can’t contain the wide smile despite Steve’s lips still being against his. He breaks the kiss and places a final peck on Steve’s forehead.

“I know this isn’t going to be easy for you. But anytime during this experience you never need to doubt who I am with you. I’m here to get to know you, support you, and hopefully fall in love with you. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”

[amberandmetal]

Of smoke and desire

Written for: @revengingbarnes for their 10k challenge. Prompt: Teen wolf AU. Pairing: Incubus!Loki x FemaleWerewolf!Reader. Warnings: Smut, as no express consent is given and reader is technically under the influence of Loki’s demon sex mojo this can be seen as dub-con if you squint. But the want and feelings were there before so not really, but you know. Better safe than sorry. Rating: E Word count: ca 4 k Summary: The Asgard pack asks the Starks for help when trouble arises regarding their youngest. A/N: This is my first AU!..I think. I’ve written UA’s before (which I have come to learn is not the same thing, who knew). This was so fun to write, especially since I’m a Teen wolf fan since way back, and it was just great to try to piece all these characters into this world and try to fit their backgrounds into something that would work and ugh, yeah.  Fatima, this was a groovy ass challenge and I had so much fun with it. Hope you’ll, and whomever might read this, like it! P.S English is my 2nd language and this is unbetad: all mistakes are mine. 

    The TV was set on low, some insipid program on in the background. The sun had just started to set and cast a warm glow over the snugly furnished living room. You hummed and burrowed closer to Natasha on the couch, yanking at the blanket covering her so she’d let you in to share the warmth. You wrapped yourself around her under the warm cover, letting the shared body heat and gentle lavender from the aroma diffuser calm your senses.

You had all been on edge for most of the evening. Clint was deeply submerged in the games on his tablet, while Bucky and Steve had taken to the gym, going round after round, trying to beat the stress out of their systems.

    You and Natasha were different, the boys needed their distractions, but you two sought comfort in each other, in the pack bond- and the tidal wave of oxytocin that brought with it.

    Nat pulled you closer until your head rested heavily on the little dip beneath her collarbone. From the outside you both looked completely at peace, but inside there was still tension chilling your bones.

    Your Alpha had gotten the call almost four hours ago. Worry had ghosted across his face only for a moment before it was replaced with what Bucky and Clint liked to call his “Alpha face”; strong, set, determined. He’d left right after the call ended, giving you nothing on what had happened except that the Asgard pack had asked for his assistance and “I will be back as soon as possible, don’t worry-”

    “But you know we do.”

    Tony had stopped in the door and turnt to you. A fond smile lighting up the seriousness that had taken over his features. He gripped your chin and tilted it up, caressing your cheek when his eyes found yours.

    “I know.”

    That had been four hours ago.

    It was never an easy thing when your Alpha was away, his absence churned in your bones. They liked to tease you about it, calling you the little lapdog of the pack, blaming it on you being the youngest and that you needed to “stop being such a pup”. But it was different for them.

    The Stark pack was a family, but unlike the Asgard pack it was not by blood. The others had their biological families scattered over the country and they stayed in touch and occasionally left to visit.

    Other packs liked to refer to you lot as “Stark and his little collection of rescues” and though absolutely meant as an insult it wasn’t far from the truth.

    Tony had been the only child of the infamous Alpha Howard Stark, and when he and his wife passed away in a car crash, Tony was the next in line. Alone and miserable he’d set out on a path of self destruction; years spent deep in dark coloured bottles, powder that shot through him like electricity, and the arms of whoever would have him. He’d been barely alive when James had found him.

    James had been a part of Tony’s life ever since, and as the pack’s emmissery the first person their Alpha went to for advice. You didn’t care that he wasn’t officially pack. Rhodes was family.

    Tony had started looking for a pack then, finding those who either had nothing left to live for or those who had no life left to speak of.

    Steve had been the first. Tony found him in a hospice care facility, the list of things wrong with him longer than the one with what wasn’t. He’d explained to him exactly what he was offering, the good with the bad- and the risk. But he’d told Tony exactly the same thing as everyone else in the pack when asked.

    “Anything is better than this.”

    Clint had been deaf, depressed and living his days looking out from the bottom of a bottle.

    Bucky had lost his left arm in war, and isolated himself, plagued by psychotic breaks brought on by severe PTSD.

    Natasha was a different story in the way that nobody knew it. She left about once every third month for a week or so and nobody actually knew, but assumed she visited some sort of family. How she came to be a part of the pack was a secret solemnly kept between her and her Alpha.

    And then there was you, the youngest and newest addition to the pack, even though it had been years since you turned they still treated you like the smallest sibling: always teasing you. But they also were very protective and spoiled you -as Tony liked to say- rotten.

    You were the only one in the pack that hadn’t been turned by your Alpha, and it felt like missing out on a connection the others had.

    Three years ago your family had been attacked by a rabid alpha. To this day you still had no idea why she had gone for you or your parents- or your brother.

    Tony had showed up, but it had been too late; you survived your wounds, your family didn’t.

    Once Tony had you somewhere safe with the red haired woman you’d come to know as a sister looking after you, he had set off with Steve, Bucky and Clint, tracking down the she-wolf who had ruined your life.

    Later after the deep wounds had healed; after her claws had forced your body to turn; after you’d wrapped your head around the fact that not only were werewolves real but you had actually turned into one; after the initial shock of your family’s death had died down- you asked them what had happened to the woman.

    “We decided her head and body wasn’t a good fit and had to part ways.”

    And that was the first time you met Clint.

    It had been a horrible year, dealing with the loss of your parents, trying to accept what you had become, struggling to find a place in this new family where everybody was a little broken, but worst of all: trying to accept and deal with the loss of your little brother.

    Tony had been by your side countless hours, when you woke up screaming from nightmares, when the anxiety hit you so hard you couldn’t control your shift, when everything in you crumbled and roared in a vortex of pain and you’d felt like you could never get up again. He had taught you control, he had helped you heal and he had given you a safe place- a new family in the ruins of your old. There was a reason you were so close with your Alpha.

    Your head snapped up when the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the door reached your ears.

    You weren’t the only one. Tony had barely gotten into the living room before he was crowded by five werewolves, pushing up against him in search of the calming effects of their Alpha’s scent. All of you completely reeked with worry.

    Tony managed a small chuckle but it sounded strained. He touched each and every one of you in turn, a warm hand on a bare shoulder, knuckles brushing softly against a cheek, a neck getting affectionately scratched. Lastly he turned to you and dropped a kiss on your forehead- you almost purred with the warmth of it.

    “What’s wrong?” Steve was the first one to speak up. He had been with Tony the longest, and as his first there was a bond there that the rest of you didn’t quite understand.

    Tony sighed and carded his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth down the tufts of stray strands that stood on end.

    “There’s a situation..”, he moved toward the couches and motioned for you to follow “Loki is missing.”

    As if by command all of you sat down on the cushions, backs straight, your shoulders pulled back and your senses spiking.

    “What do you mean missing?!”

    Loki was the youngest of the small Asgard pack. There was Odin the alpha, and his wife Frigga. They had six children, three of which were off to college. Thor, the eldest worked as a carpenter and he was often around your house fixing whatever new thing that’d been demolished. Sif was his younger sister and one of the only two in the family that wasn’t a werewolf; she was born a human but she was still fiercer than any of them. Besides Loki she was your favourite.

    Loki was, like you, the youngest, and like Sif, a human. He was slimmer than the others, fairer and quieter. He was beautiful and odd, and his smirks always more resembled smiles when directed at you.

    “He had a fallout with his father and took off.”

    Bucky scoffed.

    “Are you telling us all this commotion is because Loki decided to run away? He’s an adult for fuck sake!”

    A sharp look and a warning growl reverberating at the bottom of Tony’s throat was enough to make Bucky shrink back on the couch, eyes averted.

    “It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Tony said sharply, “apparently there is more to Loki than we thought. And I’m not overly impressed with Odin for keeping this from me.”

    He sighed, leaned back and laid a heavy hand on Steve’s thigh. The other man took it instantly, squeezing it in a reassuring manner. You all felt a bit more at ease at the grateful smile that pulled on your Alpha’s lips.

    “Loki is adopted-”

    “What?!”

    “-and he just found out. And apparently our boy is not a hundred percent human.”

    Clint and you blinked at your Alpha in unison.

    “Hold up. What? Loki? Shy, spindly noseinabookbecauseyouallsuck Loki?”

    Tony shot him an exasperated look.

    “I just mean.. how? And what is he then? He’s obviously not a wolf? At least he doesn’t smell like one-”

    Tony sighed again, pulling his hand up to rub at his eyes.

    “Fuck. Yeah okay, so we’re doing this then… Apparently he’s a demon- part demon, according to his father.”

    There was complete silence around you. Everybody, including the otherwise composed Steve and Natasha, just stared at Tony, jaws dangerously close to the floor.

    “You can’t be serious?”

    “Afraid so.”

    “But how-”

    “When-”

    “I mean he’s just so-”

    “Exactly! And he’s never-”

    “He’s never shown any indications of-”

    “Alright, enough!” His alpha voice cut the air like a whip through the chatter and you all fell silent.

    “Frigga told me, after the signs started showing in his early teens they started slipping him something they got from Bruce, some root or, some other..- look, I don’t know! That’s not the point. The point is that Loki is out there somewhere and he is a danger to others as well as himself. He doesn’t know his demon side, doesn’t know his powers. And something like that? Lying dormant for years until suddenly, it’s not? He will be feral, more demon than human..” he inhaled deeply and then let it out in a long sigh, “We don’t hurt him. The Asgard pack came to us because they trust us, lets not give them a reason to regret that choice.”

    Darkness had already started to descend when you reached the big wooden sign of Beacon Hills Preserve. Odin and his pack stood there already waiting for you. Rhodes was there too, his eyes soft as they fell on the pack.

    Odin stepped forward.

    “I’m glad you came.”

    “Of course, Loki is important to us too.”

    The two Alphas grabbed each others hands for a moment.

    “Come. The trail ends about two and half miles northeast of here.” He motioned for his wife, Thor and Sif, and a man you’d never seen before but who you assumed was their emissary Bruce, to follow him; and you followed suit, ducking into the heavy foliage of Beacon Hills preserve.

    Natasha and Bucky kept to your sides, as close as possible without touching, and their scents were dense with the spicy sweet smell of ‘pack’ and ‘protect’.

     You scented the air, wrinkling your nose in confusion when you couldn’t find a trace of Loki in it, but instead a thick smoke-like odour. It didn’t have the typical threads to it that you could pull on to trace and find whatever you were tracking; it was more like a billowing thing, seeping into the lush dank air of the forest like it belonged there.

    “If you find him, incapacitation only. No matter what he says or does. The demon in his veins has him overtaken and I do not know what we will find,” Odin paused, raising his flashlight and peering into the woods for a second before looking down, his wife brushing his cheek softly, “ he is still my son. Blood or not. I think you of all people can understand that, Stark.”

    Tony looked back at his pack, turned back to Odin and nodded.

    “We won’t hurt him.”

    The rest of you gave various sounds of agreement and Frigga, Sif and Thor looked at you gratefully. Frigga laid a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder.

    “Then let’s bring my boy home.”

    “Here’s where the trail ended a few hours ago,” Thor spoke up “the scent of smoke is too strong here. We will fan out from this point, if you find him you call. Understood?”

    Nobody spoke, everyone simply nodded . There was a pressed atmosphere, something pensive and tense hung thick and syrupy in the air. It seeped into your spine.

    Tony instructed who should go where, and with a last squeeze of her hand and his cheek quickly pushed against yours Nat and Bucky had taken off and you were staring into the heavy vegetation, its edges blurred by the twilight.

    Beside you was suddenly the soft sound of heavy paws against wet soil; you turned and blinked at the large white wolf. He looked stoic and regal in the low light. There was a reason why Odin was the most respected out of all the Alphas in Beacon county.

    His red eyes glowed in stark contrast against the silvery white fur- blood on a silken sheet. And then he was gone, leaving you the last to take off.

    The shift always seemed strange to you; it was a relief yet a sadness- a hurt. Everytime you shifted it reminded you of why you were what you were in the first place. Every turn was a reminder of what you had lost.

    But it was also an alleviation- like finally opening your eyes after having kept them closed for too long.

    As your forehead changed and morphed with the ridge of your nose your sight grew clearer, the edge of the leaves sharper. The claws on your feet burrowed into the earth as you pushed down, reveling in the scent of damp soil flooding the air and the change that trickled up your back. You pushed down the immediate need to howl out all the stagnant energy that was bursting to be let out now that you finally had opened up.

    You took off, thankful for the forgiving fabric of your sweats as you pushed forward down on all fours, running so fast you were practically flying. It was hard to remind yourself why you were here, to not get completely lost in the sensation. Loki, you had to keep your focus on Loki.

    You ran until you couldn’t hear your family on your sides anymore, until you reached a cliff overlooking the entire town. You stopped there to scent the air, willing your senses to find even the faintest trace of Loki. You allowed your fangs and claws to retract, gently shifting back with a sigh, stretching and cracking your neck. You needed to think, and it was always harder when shifted. As a wolf everything was much more primal, more emotions - less logic.

      ~~~

    Your name travels to your ears like a whisper, something sooty and rich. Behind you stands Loki, or what looks like Loki.

    You feel the familiar tug at your heart at the sight of him.

    “Loki, thank god.. We’ve been so worried-”

    “I can smell you.”

    “What?”

    “Is this what it’s like for you all the time? The sensory overload? Everything smells so rich, potent..sharp. Especially those mutts.”

    You take a bewildered step forward, hand hesitantly reaching out.

    “What-”

    “You don’t smell like them, though, no..- you smell different. Syrupy sweet. I can practically taste the honey dripping from you.”

    You take another step, reaching for him. There is something off. There is that scent of smoke and ash that clings to the air like it’s evaporating off of his skin in clouds, and his voice sounds odd, like his own but fuller, heavier, as if his voice were carried by an echo.

    You start feeling a bit dazed, the fear and nervousness from before tightly wrapped and cocooned in the softest of blankets.

    You look up and you’re close enough now to see his eyes and the raven ink bleeding into them.

    “Loki..”

    He blinks, like if he suddenly realises where he is; the chartreuse battling for dominance in his eyes and he looks at you, almost pleading.

    “I’m so hungry. I can’t understand it. I’m so hungry.”

    You close the last piece of distance between you and wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. Beneath the smoke that burns your nostrils you can sense a faint trace of Loki. You smile in relief, burying your nose closer to the curve between shoulder and neck, breathing him in.

    “I don’t know. I don’t know, Lo. But we’ll fix this.”

    His arms snake around your back and he pushes his face into your hair, inhaling deeply.

    “Oh.”, he says like he’s finally come to understand something, “oh, you smell delicious.”

    He grips the hair at the base of your neck and pulls, drawing you back to look at him. Obsidian orbs stares back at you and you feel that soft haze again, pulling at you, lulling you into their depths.

    “It’s you, sweetheart. It’s you I’m hungry for.”

    And that’s when you feel it, the hard ridge against your hip, straining and warm even through two layers of fabric.

    He leans over you, fingers still twined in your hair, holding you in place, and licks from the corner of your mouth across your cheek to your ear.

    “Shift for me, pet, I don’t want to hurt you.”

    His voice sends a shiver from just behind your ear, down your skull and neck, curling over your shoulder and clavicle, dancing down your chest and stomach until it finally reaches between your thighs and blossoms out in a red hot heat. A low moan tumbles unsolicited from your chest and to your ears it sounds almost like a purr.

    Your thoughts are swimming in vapor, it’s the primalness of being shifted with none of the sharpness.

    Loki bites softly at your earlobe and hisses “shift.”

    You let your head fall back, trusting Loki to hold you up as you allow your wolf to come out.

    “There she is”, he praises. There is a soft venom to his voice, a dense blackness that is overloading your senses by the second.

    Somewhere deep below the fog you recognize a few thoughts, past fantasies about having Loki like this, about being brave enough to tell him how you feel. This was not how you’d thought you’d end up with him, wolfed out in the arms of a black-eyed demon, but it was Loki, and it felt too good to question.

    He lowers you onto the ground, the mossblended grass a soft cushion beneath you. Above is the night sky, dark and clouded, a blanket shielding you from reality, keeping you a secret from the world, keeping you locked away and safe.

    His long slender fingers are everywhere then, pulling and tugging on your clothes until you are bare before him.

    You look up, eyelids heavy and soft. His shirt is off but his pants are still on but unzipped. There is no hint of green left in his eyes, and there is smoke in his voice.

    “This, this is what I hunger for. Oh, you’re delectable: a feast. Look at me with those beautiful golden eyes, huh? Shining like treasure for me.. what a treasure..” His hands are on your waist, sliding up and down your sides, following the curve of your body; kneading and scratching, leaving raised welts that are gone the next second. He leans over you, a feral demon with the softest touch, and kisses your lips. It is fierce and desperate, and his lips taste cold and lush on your tongue. Demon and darkness and human and flesh.

    “Loki..”

    He pulls your knee up by your thigh and lays heavy on you, his breath ghosting over your face, cold and smelling of scorched wood. There is not much left to think, to consider, the option was never there anyway. How you came to be here is irrelevant, what matters is that you have him, fair skinned and beautiful above you, and that he chose you to satiate his hunger.

    “Please..”

    His eyes snap up to yours and the last piece of white in his eyes gets clouded by shining ink. A gorgeous raven ready to devour you.

    He enters you so smoothly that it almost takes you by surprise. He is hard and warm inside of you, throbbing and buried to the hilt. You squirm breathlessly beneath him, losing yourself in the moment, completely forgetting about your claws as you dig them into the flesh of his back.

    He jerks, pushing even deeper into you as he hisses.

    “Sorry..I- sorry..-”

    “No. No, it’s good. Give into it, pet. Give it to me. Give me everything you have.”

    And there is no mistake in the low moan that rumbles in your chest, a primal growl clawing inside you as he begins to move.

    His hands and lips are everywhere, working you body and soul, pushing you to the edge, pulling and twisting, licking and biting. It’s like he is absorbing every sensation that lights within you, as if feeding on the echo of your desire.

    He barely pulls out, as if he can’t bare to not be inside you for long enough to thrust. Instead he keeps buried inside you, rutting with an intensity that has your toes curling and your eyes lighting brighter.

    “I need.- I need- I..”

    He groans, loud and deep, biting your neck as he speeds up, his pelvis putting enough pressure on your clit to make you see stars.

    “Give it to me, please.. I’m so fucking hungry.. I need..- give me.. give me.. please!”

    You climax on a sharp inhale, your back bowing and lifting you both from the ground. He does not let up, but keeps moving furiously between your thighs, gripping your throat and sucking hard on the side of your neck. You shatter in a million pieces there in his arms, convulsing through the aftershocks as he keeps pumping into you, his hips digging into the flesh of your thighs. You can almost feel the bruises forming, and for a second you think that you wish they would stay.

    When he joins you and finally tumbles over the edge it’s with the most sated exclaim you’ve ever heard, relief colouring his voice thick and luscious.

    He falls to your side, pulling his coat over you both and cradles you to him, as close as he can; as much skin in contact as humanly possible. None of you speak.

    Loki has changed; there is smoke living in his skin now. But you have loved him before and you will love him still. Again and again, whatever he needs to satiate this hunger- if he will have you.

[sidehowriting]

Unlikely Companions

Masterlist in bio!

A/N: Wow, I’m actually posting a story! It’s been so long! Sorry for the delay. I’m just this type of person. I do have more coming! I’ve wanted to get stuff written so there’s not as long between posts. But we’ll see what happens. 

This is for @revengingbarnes 10k challenge! I’m so happy I can finally write about a head canon I’ve had for A WHILE: Thor traveling with The Doctor! 

Prompt: Doctor Who

Pairings: 10th Doctor x Thor (platonic) 

Summary: The Doctor rescues Thor after Thanos attacked. 

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings:  Uh, not a lot. Some angst? Doctor Who spoilers if you’ve never seen it? 

He awoke with a groan. Everything was sore. Everything hurt. Opening his eye, he wasn’t sure where he was. He remembered Thanos. The explosion. But this wasn’t his ship. This was… looked like a bedroom. Soft bed, bedside table, dressers across the room. Strange there were no windows though. Either way, he wasn’t floating in space.

Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he got up. His legs were a bit weak but carried him across the room and into the hall. Wherever he was, it was vast. Long halls with plenty of rooms. He even stumbled upon a pool. Whoever saved him had to be of royalty or have vast amounts of money to have a castle of this size. Stark’s didn’t even compare to this.

He didn’t see anyone else, however. That he found strange. Surely in a place this big there must be many people who live here.

Finally, he heard a voice. He couldn’t make out the words - he was too far away. But he went to it, trying to find out where he was and who had rescued him.

The room he entered was larger than he expected to see. Brown walls decorated with small circles. Large, odd looking pillars and tons of dangling wires. There were few matching brown seats that strangely weren’t in front of the center console. The was weird by itself. Big and round and not something you see inside a castle.

“Ah!” He heard the same voice and out popped a man from behind the console. “You’re awake!”

Thor studied him carefully. This strange man seemed harmless enough. He was very cheerful, all smiles and a pip in his step. His colors were just as bright as his personality. Bright blue suit and red shoes. The opposite of what Loki would wear.

Loki.

His heart hurt for his lost brother. His lost friends and family. Thanos would pay for what he did.  But first, Thor needed to figure out where he was and how to get back.

“I am,” he finally replied to the man.

“You were in pretty rough shape. Thought you might be out for a while.”

The center console started to make a weird whooshing noise, making Thor flinch.  He wasn’t expecting it to make a sound quite like that.

“Wha-?” The man raced back to the opposite side and grabbed what looked like some type of monitor. “What do you mean ‘coordinates cannot be found’? Run it again!” He ran his fingers through his brown poofy hair, making it look fluffier.

Thor wasn’t sure what he should do. “Is everything alright?” He tentatively took a step towards the strange man. His mind and body still on high alert after the attack from Thanos.

“Sorry, sorry, where are my manners? I’m the Doctor.” The man smacked the monitor as he spoke, getting more frustrated.

“Thor,” the god said, still watching with caution.

The Doctor groaned, “Lot of help you’ve been.” With a shove, he pushed the monitor away from him.

“Can you tell me where I am?” Thor wasn’t sure what was going on, but he needed answers and he needed them now. Thanos was no doubt on the move and Thor needed to be as well.

With long strides, the Doctor gestured around the room. “This is my TARDIS. It’s my spaceship.”

Thor’s one eye widened. “This is a ship? It’s so large.”

“It’s bigger on the inside,” the Doctor said, waving him off. “Time Lord technology. Not that different from Asgardian if I’m not mistaken.”

Thor froze, his mind going into defense mode. This stranger knew more about him than Thor first thought. Fingers starting to tingle with lightning, Thor spoke, voice straining to the point of almost breaking. “How do you know I’m from Asgard?”

“Right! Sorry!” The doctor reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a little stick with a blue knob. “I gave you a quick scan when I brought you in. Let me explain, I had been thinking about going to see the Sapphire Waterfall on Midnight. See, the last time I tried to go there was a little snafu, this alien – creature - never did find out exactly what it was – got on board and nearly killed everyone. Myself included. Well, it didn’t kill me, the other passengers almost did-“ Thor was utterly lost as the Doctor rambled on and on about some failed vacation.

“What does this have to do with me?” Thor finally cut him off, anxious to get answers.

“Sorry, got caught up there. Anyway, that’s when I stumbled upon you just floating through space. Actually, there was a lot of wreckage, like an attack of some sort.” The remains of what Thanos had done to the ship and his people. “I pulled you inside, gave you a quick scan with my sonic-“ The blue knob started to glow and give off a buzz. “Found out you were Asgardian, from the planet Asgard no doubt. I tried to find the coordinates from the TARDIS, but it keeps telling me there’s none to be found.”

“There wouldn’t be coordinates.” The Asgardian god dragged himself across the room to the brown seats. Plopping down, he rested his arms on his legs feeling exhausted again. “Asgard is gone. Destroyed.”

All the happiness seemed to rush out of the Doctor as he tucked his sonic back into his pocket. “I’m sorry.” Briskly, he went over to Thor, sitting down next to him. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, voice lower and softer.

“It was my doing, you know.” Thor focused on his hands as he spoke. “I had this crazy sister, Hela, and the only way to stop her was to destroy Asgard. Sure, we got most of the people out but then Thanos attacked us and he murder half of my people.”

“I destroyed Gallifrey, my home planet.” Thor glanced over at the Doctor, the strange man’s body language mimicking his own. Hands on his knees, slumped shoulders. “A horrible war, the Time War, was happening and blowing up the planet was the only way to stop it all. I was the only survivor. Well, there was another, but he went crazy and preferred to die than be stuck with me.”

“Do you ever question your choice?”

“All the time. After countless years it never seems to get easier.” There was a pause before the Doctor spoke again, “Two hundred and forty-seven billion children died because of me.”

His heart hurt for this Doctor that has so kindly taken him in. While he hated the thought of all those people dying, he found solace in knowing that he wasn’t the only one who had made a catastrophic decision that destroyed his home world.

Thor turned to his new companion, meeting the stranger’s sad eyes. “I’m sorry you have to carry that burden.”

The Doctor gave a small nod before jumping up from his seat and racing back over to the monitor. “So, Thor,” the Doctor said, completely changing the subject. “Where to? We have all of time and space at our hands. Anywhere and any when you want to go.”

Thor got up, a little confused. All of time and space? Any when? Was this mad man talking about time travel? Surely that didn’t exist. Thor hoped his grief would not fill him with delusions like this. “I’d like to go to Nidavellir. I had this hammer that got smashed. I need a new weapon to face Thanos.”

“Ah, Nidavellir. Home of the dwarves.” The Doctor started running around the console, pushing buttons and pulling levers. Thor didn’t understand how one person could manage the whole thing. It had to be a multiperson job.

“You know of it?”

“Of course. I’m quite clever. Haven’t needed any weapons wielded, though. I have everything I need right here.” He whipped out his sonic again and Thor had to bite back his laugh.

“That’s your weapon? Does it even work?”

“Oh!” The Doctor’s mouth opened in a wide gasp as his eyes narrowed at Thor. “It does! On everything but wood.”

“Be that as it may,” Thor said, not believing the Doctor in the slightest. “I doubt it would work on Thanos.”

“And who exactly is Thanos?”

“He’s big and purple. A mad titan who wants the Infinity Stones to eliminate half of all life. He’s heading to Earth and I have to stop him.”   

“Sounds like quite the adventure.” The Doctor grinned, pushing a few more buttons and grabbing the monitor. He gave it a long, hard stare before saying, “Off to Nidavellir then! Allons-y!” With that, the Doctor threw a lever on the console. The TARDIS started to make the whooshing noise again and Thor assumed that meant they were on their way.

Tags: @lancsnerd @dsakita @xxloki81xx @teddybeardoctorr

[theysaywhatasadsight]

Fangs, Claws and Webshooters

A/n: This is for  @revengingbarnes  ‘s  10k writing challenge, the theme of which was TV shows. I chose Teen Wolf with Peter P. This was an interesting challenge to write! 

She walked out of ethics, books in hand, her friends giggling at a joke Rachel was making. She rolled her eyes and laughed at Rachel's annoyed face. Her phone chimed, causing her to do an awkward juggle as she took it out of her pocket.

“There’s an old warehouse near Tempaera's, 3 A.M. He'll be armed.” The peaceful facade of her being just another average college student was broken, replaced by the reality; she was a nameless and faceless mercenary, engaged in the slaughter of a new hunter. Misusing her werewolf abilities was not ethical, then again she had grown up in Beacon Hills, where every second week a new creature popped up, hell bent on destroying the world.

Shooting off a quick message to respond to another friend's text, she wondered what excuse she would make this time for skipping date night.

Having a significant other wasn't something she had yet become used to. There was flirting, of course, mild and harmless with all her brother's friends (and later even proteges; true alpha certainly attracted werewolves everywhere) but never something that was even borderline serious.

She’d never previously had any time to pursue relationships, nor any motivation. Between protecting her town and somehow finding the time to study to even get a chance at a decent college. Needless to say, when she made it to MIT, following in the footsteps of Lydia, the entire pack was overjoyed but sad to let her go.

She’d met Peter in Introduction to Programming Languages, where he’d crashed in 15 minutes late, sat next to her and spent the entire time answering every question that was put up. They soon developed competitiveness, which lead to sniping back and forth at each other, to studying together for tests and then failing when the two realized they couldn’t sit and study without getting distracted.

She had her suspicions he was...something, because of his accelerated stamina and ability to go without sleep forever apparently. Possibly a werewolf, maybe something else; she would have to check the bestiary to be sure. He didn’t mind the missed dates or the occasions when she suddenly disappeared back to California for a ‘family emergency’, so maybe he did understand her reasons.

Before she could text him, her phone rang. She smiled and answered.

“Won’t make it today, gotta study for a Chemistry test.” he told her and sighed.

“I was about to cancel too, something’s come up.”

“Are you cheating on me, YN? I don’t take well to being second choice.”

“Yes, I’m cheating on you with Captain America, happy? Ugh those baby blues, that hair, what can I even say?”

“At Least you didn’t say Iron Man, I don’t think my heart could take it if you went at it with my former employer; not to mention he’s married to the CEO of Stark Industries.”

“Ha ha, Pete, I’m dying of laughter.”

“That was the intention.”

“Whatever, bye. Love you.”

“Yes, I love me too.” she let out a chuckle of disbelief and hung up.

She sat down to do a bit of homework before heading towards the warehouse. Scratching her head at the question, she was debating calling Peter to ask for help when her phone rang again.

“Stiles.”

“Hey. You, uh, got my text?”

“Yeah. Who is this guy anyway?”

“He’s, uh, you remember those killings a few years back? Everyone supernatural was a target?”

“Hmm, I guess? Bunch of people thought they’d rid the world of evil. He one of them?” she sighed.

“The philosophy’s pretty common, YN. They think we’re monsters, that the world is better off without us. He’s a part of a group going after every creature in the bestiary.”

“Are they going after mutants too?”

“Not those in the accords, as far as I know.”

“Never thought you’d be snooping around in government stuff. What would the Sheriff say?”

“Be disappointed in me, probably. Which is what your brother is now. He called me in a murderous rage about how I was ‘endangering his sister’s life’ and how i ‘should be more responsible’, considering I’m ‘an older brother figure to her’”

“How are the two of you even responsible in any way? You throw yourselves at any danger you find! I volunteered to do this, Stiles, I’m capable.”

“Speaking of, when were we going to hear about this guy you’re dating?”

“How’d you find out?”

“Peter Parker; good grades, straight A student, interned for a billionaire, but got in on that same scholarship you did.”

“Misusing and taking advantage of your position?”

“Maybe. So I have to give a full report on him to Scott but if you could…”

“I’ll text you when it’s done, Stiles, I’ve got homework, bye!” she cut the call, smiling fondly.

She walked into the warehouse, whistling.

“Let’s make this easy for both of us. You stop hiding and come out, I kill you and I go back home and do my chem homework.”

“Werewolf. You took the bait.”

‘You’ve just started talking and I already want to kill you, God. How does your little cult stand you?”

“Your species is a walking plague. How many have you infected, little one?” he stepped into her view, brandishing a gun pointed straight at her.

“Plague? Species? I’m not some mythical beast.” she kept her tone taunting to hide the waver in her voice. It was only the 3rd time she was doing this. “I should go into bounty hunting, heard it’s lucrative.”

“You’ll have to get out here alive before you go making plans, beast.” he whispered before firing, she dodged and snarled, claws snapping and features shifting. She ran at him, swiping. He ducked and sliced at her right side with a knife. Crying out in pain, she fell, throwing her claws at him in frustration. He fell too, crawling backwards to get away from her. She stood up, grabbing a metal rod from his bag and dragging it towards him, it ringing on the floor.

“We’re going to do this old fashioned human way, then” she grunted, wincing at the cut near her kidney. “You added wolfsbane to the knife, huh? You’re pro, I’ll give that to you.” She hit at his wrist, making him scream and drop the knife. “But I’ve seen worse.”

She hit his abdomen, then his torso. The wolfsbane hurt like hell, and she was sure she was about to lose her vision.

“It’s not just wolfsbane, little one. It’s something much, much better.”

She swore under her breath as her legs gave out. Reaching out, claws extended, she closed your eyes, hearing powder showering down on the floor.

The man raised the gun a final time, saying a prayer to his gods. He smiled, squeezing the trigger-

The glass windows above crashed as a masked figure swung in. The man shot at whatever it was, but they were too fast. He was suddenly immobilized, down on the floor with sticky webs on his wrists that pinned him down.

Peter rushed to the girl lying inside the circle of what looked to be ash. The killer had a ritual apparently, where the victims were surrounded by ash and were gunned down. He turned the girl over, who was convulsing. Recognizing the face, he inhaled sharply. Picking up the rod next to her, he swung at the killer’s head, knocking him out cold. He picked up his girlfriend and strode out.

He laid her down gently on the asphalt and took his mask off. She was awakening gradually, gasping in pain.

“YN, hold on, okay, I'm calling an ambulance.”

“No, wait.” She coarsely whispered. He leaned over her. “Is the cut healing?”

“It's deep, really really deep.”

“There's a lighter in the pocket of my jacket. Take it out and burn the wound.”

“What? No, I'm not gonna hurt you more.”

“It'll help with the wolfsbane, Peter. Do it.” She groaned. He quickly took it out and switched it on, grimacing as he put it on her skin. The wound gave off yellow smoke and her eyes glowed. Her claws dug into the ground underneath.

“That's it, that'll take the wolfsbane out. Call whoever you want and tell them...tell them I was in an accident.” She managed to whisper before she blacked out. Peter looked at her, brushing away hair from her forehead.

She came to gradually, eyelids fluttering. Her head pounded and she had no control over her limbs. She tried to sit up, wincing. She was in the hospital, it seemed. There was commotion in the chair to the right. Someone abruptly sat up, blinking widely.

“Scott,” she whispered as he stood up and hugged her.

“Stupid girl. I told you, you don’t go after a manic killer on your own.” he kissed her hair.

“Did you two rescue me?”

“No, we got here a day ago. Your boyfriend called Stiles, the first number he found on your phone and Stiles called me and…”

“How long have I been out?” she cut him off.

“Three days.”

“Scott, whatever he shot me with, it was beyond wolfsbane, I couldn’t heal.”

“Yes, Lydia researched it, said it was some kind of hybrid derivative. These people, they’re trained to take us out. She’s trying to find an antidote.”

“Coffee, kid?” Stiles sat down next to Peter, handing him a cup.

“Yeah, thanks.” his eyes were bloodshot, not having slept for the past 3 days. After he left that warehouse, he had called in anonymously to the emergency services, telling them the location and the restrained killer inside.

“You should go get some sleep. I think they’re only allowing family as of now.” he sighed.

“Nah, I’m good.” Stiles nodded, as they sat in awkward silence.

“So, uh, Spiderman?”

“I’m sorry what?”

“You’re spiderman, right?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Kid, I work for the government, I know my way around.”

“Oh yeah? Well, your hometown's life expectancy is really, really low. Teens killed every year, 65 percent go out of town for college. Care to explain? Didn’t think so.”

Stiles grimaced. “You’re smart, kid. So, tell me this, are you one of those assholes hunting supernaturals?”

“What? No!”

“So, you’re not spiderman and yet managed to walk out of a skirmish with a, uh, serial killer, which, might I add, your werewolf girlfriend couldn't and called me?” He shrugged. “It’s your secret to keep, buddy, just, don’t put YN in danger.”

“She kind of did that on her own. At your suggestion, I believe.”

“I told her not to do it, okay? And she said, I quote “I have claws and fangs, Stiles, I intend to use them.” I mean, who says that? How can you get through college and be an assassin? It was different in high school.”

“How so? Were you all assassins for hire?” Peter turned to him.

“No, no no. We were just trying to live and supernatural shit would often come up and try to kill us. It was batshit crazy stuff.”

“I’m kind of familiar with that, except I never had a pack.”

“Boohoo, sob story, wait until you hear about when I got possessed by an evil spirit...wait what? So you do admit you’re Spiderman?”

“Look, I’ve missed three days of classes and my girlfriend is 3 rooms over trying not to die.”

“She’s like my baby sister dude, not that you should have any sisterly feelings for her, and..”

He paused when a nurse leaned down in front of the two.“Um, Mr. Parker? Mr. Stilinski? Ms. McCall is awake and requesting to see the both of you. I’d advise you to not give sudden shocks or news.”

She was talking on the phone when the two came rushing to the door. She held up a finger while Scott stood up from the chair he was sitting in.

“She’s talking to Mom right now, telling her not to worry.”

“She’s not listening.” she smiled as she cut the call. Glancing up, she saw the three figure standing at the threshold, all glowering. She sat up, got down from the bed and walked over.

“Okay. Scott, you’ve done your protective alpha thing already. Stiles, Peter, you two can battle to death over who gets to scream at me first. I, need that" she said grabbing Peter's cup and sipped.

“Okay, stop. You're not poisoning yourself with shitty coffee the minute you wake up.” Stiles took the cup back from her. “And lie down, please.”

She made a face and sat down on the bed. “How soon are they discharging me?”

“They'll keep you under observation for a few days.”

“I have classes to attend!”

“You didn't really care about that when you went after a gun-toting maniac.” Peter frowned.

She rolled her eyes and lay down again.

“That's not how I wanted you to meet Scott, you know.” You smiled at Peter as he dropped you off to your dorm a few days later.

“They're...nice, if a little…”

“Scary?”

“More like funny.”

“Hey, he's my alpha okay? We learned how to kill and maim before we learned calculus.”

“You'd make great friends with Black Widow, you know?”

“OH MY GOD, YOU KNOW HER?” He laughed as she poked him repeatedly, “Peter! Answer me!”

[mypoorexcuseforwriting]

Just Hold On - Part One

Pairing: Surgeon!Loki x Surgeon!Reader

Word Count: 1094

Summary: When you end up in a car accident, you're shocked to find out you can see everything that's going on while you’re in a coma. 

Warnings: Arguing, car crash.

Prompt: Greys Anatomy

A/N: Hey guys. So I know it’s been a while since I’ve written something. However, when the chance to take part in @revengingbarnes 10K Writing Challenge came up I figured it would be an amazing way to get back into writing. Hope you guys enjoy it x

To say things were tense in the Odinson - (Y/L/N) household was an understatement. Loki and (Y/N)’s screams could be heard from the other end of the street. (Y/N) was stood in the kitchen, angrily throwing things into her purse, while Loki stood glaring at her from the living room, his hands placed on his hips as he tapped his foot impatiently. “It’s our only day off in months and you think that there’s nothing wrong with you spending it all with your friends instead of me,” Loki shouts.

“I spend every night with you Loki, one lunch with friends isn’t going to kill you. I’ll be back before 3 and then we’ve got the rest of the day to waste. Hell, you can even take me out tonight if that’ll calm you down,” (Y/N) tries to reason, only growing more agitated with her fiance as their fight continues.

“I apologise for thinking my fiance would like to spend her day off with me” he retaliates and (Y/N) grunts in return.

“I give up” she yells in frustration, snatching her keys off the bench and making a beeline for the doors. She twists the handle aggressively, swinging it open and slamming it behind her, hearing Loki scream, “Don’t worry about getting home for dinner, I’ll probably have more fun if you stay somewhere else for the night” as she walks away, rolling her eyes in response.

Pulling up to Natasha’s house (Y/N) slams her hand down on the horn, honking it for an obnoxiously long time until her best friend emerges from the front door of her home. Climbing in the front seat of the car, Natasha flips (Y/N) the bird and she blows her best friend a kiss back in return, a smirk on her face as she puts the car in drive and takes off down the road.

“So what's up?” Nat asks, eyeing the tense look on her best friends face carefully.

“Oh not much. You?”

“Same as usual. Now tell me what’s got you in a mood?” she pushes and (Y/N) gives her a look before turning her eyes back to the road, a sigh escaping her lips.

“You mean besides Loki losing his shit because I decided to spend some time with friends on my only day off in months” (Y/N) tells her as Nat lets out a groan.

“It’s not like you’re disappearing off the face of the earth, its a couple of hours. Bloody hell.”

(Y/N) laughs in return, “I know, I know.” as she approaches an intersection, eyes focused on the green light in front of her, unaware of the driver speeding towards her, his eyes cast down at his cellphone.

“(Y/N)” Natasha screams but it’s too late. The car comes smashing into the drivers' side door. The bang that followed deafening and the scene that accompanied, disastrous.

Slowly I push myself up off the ground, my eyes casting to the disaster before me. My car was destroyed, completely annihilated. It was flipped onto its roof, a huge dent in the driver's side door. The debris scattered throughout the scene made it look like a bombsite rather than a crash. Cast several meters away from the car was one of my tyres, the hub cap was lying beside it, scratched and dented much like everything else on the road. People were hovering around my car, a couple on the phone and others bending down by my window. It looked like there were others on the opposite side as well but the truck that crashed into me was in the way. I move slightly to the left to see that the truck only had some damage to the bonnet but other than that it looked alright.

The driver was sitting in the front seat, legs hanging out of the car while he sipped on a bottle of water, a woman holding an item of clothing to his head, presumably to stop a head lack from bleeding. Seeing as she seemed to have it covered I continued on, needing to find Nat and make sure she was okay.

As I make it to the other side of the car I manage to push myself through the people to see a hand hanging out of the window, the bracelet I got Nat for her 15th birthday adorning the wrist. I immediately drop to the ground, peering through the window to see she had multiple face contusions. Obvious chest injuries as well as her arm being trapped between the passengers and driver's seat. Her seatbelt seems to be strangling her slightly so I push myself back out of the car, screaming to see if anyone had anything sharp.

No one replied and I bent back down to search the car for something, anything. My mind travels to my bag and I remember the pair of nail scissors I leave in there for emergencies. I begin searching, careful not to bump Nat in any way, however, in my search, I come across another body part. My eyes follow the arm before me to its owner and I see my own face staring back at me.

I jump back before curiosity and terror gets the best of me, pulling me back into the car. My eyes are drawn shut, seeming to be unconscious. Like Nat, there are several contusions to my face. I am covered in blood which seems to be coming predominantly from my chest. My legs are trapped between the caved in drivers door and the car console. I have several open fractures, multiple soft tissue injuries, a depressed skull fracture and a possible spinal injury.

My head begins to spin. What is this? Is this a dream? A nightmare? Am I dead? What is happening? I watch as everything begins to blur and I start to feel dizzy as I struggle to come up with a way to compose myself. I try breathing in and out, pinching myself, anything to get me to wake up, or at least realise what the hell is going on. But nothing happens. I push myself out of the car, taking a step back, and another and another, until my back is flush with a tree behind me. I slide down the trunk of the tree and onto the ground, placing my head in my hands to avoid seeing the scene before me. As my eyes close I hear sirens in the distance only making me more fearful of what's to come.

[thescarletphoenixx]

Gonna try my hand at an AU fic other than coffee shop. 😂 Stay tuned! 😍

So here it is, as promised! I reached 10k today, and this is what I’m gonna do to celebrate! This writing challenge has been in the works for a while now, almost 2 weeks, and the unique thing: all the prompts are TV shows to be used as AUs! I would love for as many people to participate as possible, and i hope this will be as fun for you to write as it will be for me to read xx Here we go!

Let me explain: You can use the tv show as inspiration, can fit your character into one of the show’s characters, follow the storyline, or not at all! It’s all up to you. Whatever you want to do within the confines of that universe. So go crazy!

(Rules and prompts under the cut)

Rules:

Reblog this post and spread the word.

It’s two people per prompt.

You can take two prompts but they’ll have to be in separate fics.

You can write a one shot, multiple parts, or a series. It can be fluff, angst or smut, it’s up to you.

NO UNDERAGE SMUT ALLOWED.

You can write for all the characters I write for. They are all here

Once you’ve chosen your prompt, send me an ask with your prompt and character. Send me two prompts in case the first one is taken.

Tag me in your work ( @revengingbarnes ) and tag it with #fatimas10kchallenge.

Once you’ve posted, please send me an ask, because Tumblr’s a little shit so idk if I’ll get the tag notification. I missed a lot of fics in the previous wc, and I want to avoid that!

Deadline for submitting your prompt is 30th March. Deadline for posting your fic is 30th May. So take all the time you need!

There is no maximum word limit, minimum is 500. If it’s long, pls use a ‘Read More’ cut!

TV Show Prompts:

Peaky Blinders - @seb-evans for Bucky, @buckychrist for Bucky

The Walking Dead - @moonstruckhargrove for Bucky

Grey’s Anatomy - @littlemarvelfics for Steve

Brooklyn Nine Nine

Game of Thrones - @ginatoldmeso for Steve/Carol

The Office

Friends

The Bachelor/Bachelorette - @sectumsempra-beaches

Suits - @buckyswinterchildren for Bucky, @sgtjbuccky for Bucky

Sherlock

Supernatural - @winchesterswantmypie for Chris Evans

Dr Who - @hazelgem29 for Thor

Orange is the New Black

Breaking Bad

Narcos

Jane The Virgin

Gilmore Girls

Gossip Girl - @tinyglamdramaqueen for Bucky

The Good Place

Masterchef

Once Upon a time

Riverdale

Lost

Criminal Minds - @velvetbarnes for Bucky, @kaniac-22 for Loki

Desperate Housewives

The Crown

Castle

Downton Abbey

One Tree Hill - @keepgrindingwaywardsoul for Bucky

Teen Wolf - @shamelessbookaddict for Peter P

Tagging some mutuals:

@take-my-life-not-my-heart , @jaamesbbarnes , @suncitydanvers , @thewraithwrites , @trashpanda-barnes , @buckychrist , @buckyforbreakfast , @jurassicbarnes , @jessicagoddamnjones , @sgtjbuccky , @hollandroos 

[teamatsumu]

Oh my GOD WHY WHY WHY I'M SO SAD THIS WAS SO BEAUTIFUL FULCLCKKCKX

Made to Suffer

Summary: In a world where you’re surrounded by death, you just want to feel something.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, graphic violence, death, SMUT EXPLICIT 18+, please don’t read if under 18!, major character death

Notes: Probably one of my favorite crossovers to ever write. The Walking Dead is my favorite show besides Game of Thrones and when Fatima (@revengingbarnes ) came up with a Marvel/TV crossover challenge, I had to enter! Congrats on the milestone and thanks for hosting such an awesome challenge!

Forewarning you all, this will be graphically violent. I’m a sick bitch who loves writing gorey scenes and, come on, it’s the zombie apocalypse. There’s nothing tame about it. It’s also long as hell. Enjoy and let me know what you think! x

P.S. - For those who don’t watch TWD, “walkers” are the zombies; they don’t use the term zombies in the show.

When Bucky, Steve, and Nat were sent into a Hydra base with the intent of extracting biological weapons, they hadn’t been counting on that weapon being rigged to the entire facility, set to be released into the air upon the decimation of the building itself.

The changes weren’t immediately known. When the bomb Bucky rigged had gone off, there were no strange colored clouds dissipating into the air, no inclinations that something sinister had occurred. So how could they have known?

Patient zero was a thirty-three-year old woman from Queens, who displayed symptoms of the flu, intensified by chronic vomiting and a fever that never dropped below a hundred and five degrees. Her temperature had continued to rise until her body merely burned out and succumbed. No one, least of all the doctors assigned to her case, expected her to reanimate and escape the morgue.

Even less expected was her attacking the morgue attendant and sinking her teeth into his jugular. It only snowballed from there; hospitals and care centers rapidly filled with the sick. The military was dispatched to contain them. Sanctuaries and refugee centers were erected in all major cities.

The Avengers were outnumbered. Bruce and Helen Cho worked tirelessly on a potential cure, experimenting and testing and recalibrating until both of them were overtaken by the sick—the dead—and Steve and Natasha were forced to put them down.

Keep reading

[teamatsumu]

Haha this is great! I love how protective they all are, it has just the right touch of humor. The ending is brilliant! Thanks for participating love 💞

Fangs, Claws and Webshooters

A/n: This is for  @revengingbarnes  ‘s  10k writing challenge, the theme of which was TV shows. I chose Teen Wolf with Peter P. This was an interesting challenge to write! 

She walked out of ethics, books in hand, her friends giggling at a joke Rachel was making. She rolled her eyes and laughed at Rachel’s annoyed face. Her phone chimed, causing her to do an awkward juggle as she took it out of her pocket.

“There’s an old warehouse near Tempaera’s, 3 A.M. He’ll be armed.” The peaceful facade of her being just another average college student was broken, replaced by the reality; she was a nameless and faceless mercenary, engaged in the slaughter of a new hunter. Misusing her werewolf abilities was not ethical, then again she had grown up in Beacon Hills, where every second week a new creature popped up, hell bent on destroying the world.

Keep reading

[mypoorexcuseforwriting]

Just Hold On - Part Two

Pairing: Surgeon!Loki x Surgeon!Reader

Word Count: 1744

Summary: When you end up in a car accident, you’re shocked to find out you can see everything that’s going on while you’re in a coma.

Warnings: Near death, hospitals, car crash

Prompt: Greys Anatomy

A/N: Part Two of my fic that I have entered in @revengingbarnes 10K Writing challenge. 

I watch as help arrives on the scene, the paramedics rushing to the separate cars to assess the situation before the firefighters can swoop in to get Nat and I out. Slowly I pull myself up off the ground and make my way over to my car as the police ask the bystanders to move so the paramedics can get to us. My heart wrenches as my eyes fall on one of the officers, my good friend Steve. Then I hear someone scream my name and I instantly recognise it as my best friend Bucky. I run to the car to see him kneel down on the ground, my hand in his as he struggles to fight away his tears, needing to stay professional so he doesn’t get pulled away.

“It’s okay. I’m here” he whispers and I feel a sense of relief wash over me, knowing I’m in good hands. He places a kiss to the back of my hand before gently placing it down again and getting to work on stabilizing me before the firefighters extract me.

I bend down beside him and look through the car to see another paramedic working on Nat. I glance behind me and see Steve talking to some of the witnesses. Thankfully I don’t think he has noticed that its Nat and I yet. I take a step back and avert my eyes to Bucky again to see him stabilising my neck, while another paramedic continues checking me over. “Her Glasgow coma is at a 9, someone pass me a bag,” he says and I can see the panic reflecting in Bucky’s eye. I place a hand on his shoulder, wishing I could comfort him. However, my hand gets shaken off as he takes the bag from his partner, and instructs him to continue preparing me for extraction.

I watch as he struggles to breathe, looking at the bag and emulating the breaths it's taking for me. The other paramedic runs over to the other side to check on Nat before telling the fire department they are ready.

The noise of metal on metal is deafening, the jaws of life ripping the metal apart bit by bit. After about 5 minutes, Nat is free and only now does Steve realise who is in the car. He rushes to Nat’s side as they load her up on the gurney and takes her hand in his, following the paramedics to the ambulance.

It takes another 5 minutes, however, to get me out of the car, but once it’s done I’m getting put onto a gurney straight away and wheeled towards the ambulance, Bucky standing by my side the entire time. They hoist me up into the ambulance and I follow behind them, making it in just in time before the doors close behind me.

I hear someone shout, “To Grey Sloan Memorial” before we drive off, the scene before me getting further and further away. I turn away, my eyes casting to Bucky. His hair is dishevelled, his face pale and his eyes watering, on the verge of tears. He’s pumping the bag with one hand but his other is stroking my hair as he leans down to whisper in my ear. I take a step closer, curious of what he is saying.

“You need to hang in there okay. I can’t lose you. Just hold on until we get to the hospital. Everyone else will hold you from there. Okay? Please, just don’t leave me” he says, his voice cracking at the end.

The ambulance pulls up to the hospital and the doors open to reveal Bailey staring back at me. “What do we have?” she asks, ready to jump into action, with Rhodey, Clint, Sam and Jackson behind her.

The other paramedic speaks up, “Jane Doe, Tachycardic and…” he begins but Bucky cuts him off.

“It’s not a Jane Doe. It’s (Y/N), Bailey, it’s (Y/N)

Bailey jumps inside the ambulance, helping Bucky wheel me out as he continues pumping the bag. Jackson runs inside, presumably to alert everyone and the others rush over to me. I take a step out of the ambulance and onto the ground beneath me, a sense of relief falling over me at the thought of being at the hospital.

I look around at all the familiar faces as they swarm me, each taking on different jobs like a well-oiled machine. I turn around only to come face to face with the blue eyes I’ve grown to love. “Loki” I whisper, taking a step towards him as I analyse his face, trying to figure out what he’s feeling.

He’s frozen in place, one glove on his hand, the other on the ground beside him as he stares at my lifeless body in disbelief. I take another step, glancing behind me briefly to see them rushing me inside, Sam screaming for everyone to get out of the way.

Loki doesn’t move, he stands stuck, staring at the place I previously was, not knowing what to do. I run up to him, trying to shake him out of this state, but it does nothing.

“Loki” I hear Derek call, watching as he runs over to him, seemingly managing to snap him out of whatever trance he was stuck in as he pushes past Derek and runs inside.

I follow after him, pushing my way into the trauma room to see everyone in overdrive. Derek comes into the room and heads straight for Loki, “You need to go. We’ve got this”

“I’m not leaving Derek,” He tells him standing tall.

“Fine, then get back. Can someone page Dr Odinson” Derek yells over the top of everyone.

“He’s already here,” says one of the interns and despite being in a life-threatening condition I can’t help but roll my eyes.

���Dr Thor Odinson” Derek yells before rushing to my side. “She’s got a depressed skull fracture with a probable bleed,” he tells everyone, slipping into the chaos without a second thought.

I tune out as they all shout various things about my condition and my array of many, many injuries, but Loki’s voice pulls me back in as he shouts, “Is there a fetal heartbeat?” I begin to panic, how had I not thought of this? How could I just assume everything was fine? What if it's not? Oh my god. Holy shit.

Everyone continues on as if they didn’t hear him and I begin to lose it, my fear taking over my body as I begin to have a panic attack. Is it even possible to have a panic attack when you’re...what am I? A ghost?

I shake the thoughts from my head as Loki shouts again. “Lucy, is there a fetal heartbeat?” No response. “Lucy!” he yells again, growing more and more panicked as well.

“Give me a minute!” she replies as I contain my anger. I know these things can be hard to find, I’ve worked in peds for years not but that still doesn’t mean my over the top concern as a soon to be mother doesn’t outway all logic I have in a situation like this.

“Loki, you need to back up,” says Rhodey, pushing him out of the way, his voice filled with sympathy but also authority as the chief of surgery.

“I want an answer!” Loki screams before backing down, speaking softly, “I want an answer.”

“Against the wall and silent. You hear me?” he tells him one last time and before Loki can respond my childhood best friend Amelia walks in, “What’s going on?” she asks, oblivious to the fact it’s me on the table. As her eyes reach my face I can see the colour drain from her own and Derek looks up.

“Amelia, I’ve got this”

“Derek I can’t leave her,” she tells him, her eyes pleading. Derek knows he’s going to get nowhere, so with one nod, Amelia’s in there. Checking my IV’s and my chest tube making sure everything's perfect. It’s the only thing she can do, everyone else has it covered and she's the kind of person that needs to keep herself distracted or she’ll fall off the edge.

As the seconds grow by Loki grows more and more desperate. “Derek, please,” he says, his voice a reflection of how desperate he is.

I’m ready to lose it when finally Derek says, “How are we doing with the heartbeat, Lucy?”

“If I'm going to find a heartbeat, I need everybody to shut up for a second,” she tells him.

“Everyone, quiet. Right now” Derek yells and all that can be heard in the room is the beeping of the machines.

“There it is! Fetal heartbeat” yells Lucy, the sound of my baby's heartbeat music to my ears as I let out the biggest sigh of relief ever. I turn to see Loki doing the same and all I want to do is kiss him, glad our baby is okay, but I can’t. I hear the door open and turn to see Thor, Loki’s older brother.

Thor walks over to him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder, whispering something to him under his breath before leading him out of the trauma room. As Loki exits the room I hear Jackson shout “V-fib!” and at that moment I am so glad Derek paged Thor because only God knows what Loki would have done if he was in the room at this moment.

“She's crashing!” yells Amelia, “Start bagging her!” she continues and I can tell she is about to panic.

“Come on, get her on her back!” Derek yells

“Watch her C-spine.”

“Starting CPR!”

“Get me an intubation tray please!”

“Charging to 120! Clear!” says Jackson and everyone takes a step back. I watch as my body jerks with the shock and turn my eyes to the monitor. Still in v-fib.

“Charge the paddles to 200!” Sam screams.

Charged to 200.

“Clear!” Everyone steps back and once again I watch as my body jerks with the shock. Only this time I’m back.

“Sinus tach,” Jackson says and everyone lets out a sigh of relief.

“Everybody ready? Grab that, grab that! Go, go, go! Move!” yells Derek and everyone grabs the various monitors and bags of fluids before rushing me to the OR elevator. As we exit the trauma room Loki stands up from the ground and trails behind them. I follow them all inside and watch as the doors close, leaving Loki behind.