#first suggestion: put a flying cow in what the fuck is wrong with you it's a twister movie

[reiverreturns]

two glasses of wine in and i'm prepared to say with gusto that if you locked me in a room with the writers i could fix every problem the twisters script has within half an hour

[magdaclaire]

to forgive is not to forget and sometimes you cannot do either

read on ao3

Oh no, oh no. There’s only like five ways that this conversation is going to go, and if someone raises a fucking pinky finger to his Tony, Rhodey is going to lose it. He’s going to completely lose it.��

When the good Captain starts raising his voice, Rhodey starts rising out of his seat, completely out of his control. He’s sat down again, however, by the fact that Tony grabs his wrist, pulling him back down to the Earth in more ways than one. Instead of letting him fly off the handle, Tony laces their fingers calmly, keeping both himself and Rhodey hemmed in off of the edges of anger and disparity as to not lose their collective minds in the middle of this mixed company. Instead of losing it, Rhodey zones out for a minute, checking his recently painted nails (peach, because Riri had picked it out and decided it looked great for their skin tone) and looking occasionally at his phone. 

That is, until Steve Rogers stands his happy ass up. 

“Captain,” Rhodey interrupts, crisp and clear and still polite despite the beginning of his sentence interrupting the middle of the Captain’s. Rogers looks at him with raised brows, though he gives the natural submission of an officer so clearly outranked; Colonel James Rhodes had at least earned his colonelcy, come to think. 

“Yes, Colonel?” Rogers asks, looking at Tony and Rhodey’s linked hands before moving back to the Colonel’s face. Rhodey will remember that. 

“You no longer preside over the Avengers Initiative in any fashion. Captain Danvers is the new Captain of the Avengers, and I have the military authority liaison position. What actions you perceive as right and wrong, whether this is an official meeting or not, are no longer relevant. Keep them to yourself,” Rhodey instructs, level toned and frustrated, to which Rogers’s face screws into an expression of displeasure. Rhodey holds his gaze. 

“I’m not the leader anymore so I don’t get to have an opinion?” Rogers asks, high and offended, but Rhodey doesn’t roll his eyes, which he thinks someone should be proud of. Tony squeezes his hand, but still Rhodey continues. 

“Was anyone allowed an opinion during your tenure as leader?” Rhodey asks rhetorically. Tony’s hand slips out of his, grabbing onto his arm with more tenacity, more strength. Rhodey ignores it. “I don’t think it much matters what you think anyway. Your probationary period has not reached its end, and thus your vote isn’t one that needs to be taken into consideration. Your presence in these meetings is a privilege and can be revoked, should I or Captain Danvers choose to revoke it. Don’t tempt me, Captain Rogers.” 

“Well, then why don’t you revoke it, Colonel? You seem to be damn well tempted enough,” Rogers shoots back, temper tested as he rises completely to his feet, Barnes looking alarmed and yet cowed next to him. By Rhodey’s guess, he doesn’t want to be here at all. His attention is pulled away by Tony’s hand on his arm once again. 

“I think we need a moment’s recess, if we could have it. I think it would be good for everyone. Captain Danvers?” Tony suggests, looking desperately between Carol and his usual corralling partner, Agent Sharon Carter. They both nod, though Captain Danvers is the one to reply aloud. 

“I was about to suggest the same thing. How about we take twenty minutes, agents? Come back at 1400, and come back without the chips on shoulders, if you don’t mind?” Carol clips with her eyebrow raised, not a suggestion at all. Rogers purses his lips but gives her a tight nod, taking the south exit with his half of the team in tow. Tony, who has always reminded him of a Chihuahua when he’s upset with him, is nearly vibrating when he drags Rhodey into an empty office, shoving Rhodey into a chair. Rhodey crosses his arms and waits for the fire to start, because if he gets the first word in, this is not going to go well. 

“What the fuck was that, Rhodes?” Tony asks, 

“Rogers is a bag of fucking microaggressions in a freedom suit and I’m not gonna deal with it - he disrespects you and argues with you whenever you open your mouth and puts you down and undercuts your arguments, and it’s counterproductive!” Rhodey argues, the steam nearly coming out of his ears, and he isn’t angry at Tony, he shouldn’t be expressing it at Tony, but Tony won’t let him throw shit at Steve Rogers for some reason, so this is what he’s got. Tony crosses his arms and leans against the wall opposite him. 

“I can deal with Steve Rogers. What I can’t deal with is my best friend ruining the groundwork that I’ve put down for pardoning and forgiving Steve Rogers and his merry band so that we can get them back into the fold. That’s what I can’t deal with,” Tony says, but there’s one thing that Rhodey has to stick on, because what.

“He doesn’t deserve your fucking forgiveness, Tony!” he insists, uncrossing his arms to scrub his hands across his skull. Maybe he’s overprotective of Tony, and maybe that comes from a couple of decades of being in love with him and not doing a fucking thing about it, but maybe that’s no one’s goddamn business either. That doesn’t mean Steve Rogers deserves to be forgiven for lying to him and trying to kill him either. Like Tony hasn’t been lied to for his entire life. Like most of the people Tony has trusted his entire life haven’t betrayed him. But he looks up and Tony looks stricken and he’s getting closer and Rhodey isn’t expecting - Tony sputters. 

“But you forgave me!” 

Silence settles. Rhodey racks his mind for whatever the fuck Tony means, tries to do whatever mental math that Tony’s guilt complex has conjured, but he can’t come up with whatever Tony thinks he did. Whatever he thinks Rhodey forgave him for. So he asks. 

“Forgave you for what, Tones?” Tony crumbles. 

“I didn’t catch you. The suit didn’t catch you. Nothing I did, everything I did failed, I should have been able to - platypus I failed you. And you acted like it was nothing. You just came right back to me and acted like we were fine, and you’re still my best friend and you still love me and everything is fine and you’re not gonna leave me,” he rambles, falling to his knees between Rhodey’s own, and Rhodey just wants to hold him. So he does. He gathers Tony into the well of his chest and holds him against himself and just lets him cry for a minute because that’s what he needs. 

“Tony, none of that was your fault. It’s not your fault. I’m never gonna leave. We’ve been together for decades, Tony Stark. I’m yours, and you’re mine, in every way that matters. It wasn’t your fault. There was nothing to forgive,” he promises, stroking Tony’s hair. Tony’s sobs subside eventually, and the tears dry too. 

Carol doesn’t come get them. 

“I think we might be doing this wrong, you know,” Tony says eventually, when they’ve been sitting like this way too long for his knees to still be in good condition. Rhodey hums a questioning hum. “I’ve been halfway in love with you since I was fifteen years old.” 

Rhodey chokes on clean air, and then he’s coughing, and Tony has to get off of his chest, killing their intimacy. But, Rhodey has the idea that they’re just getting started on that side of things. 

“I was twenty-two. Coming home from my first tour. When I figured it out about you. Too scared of DADT to do anything I guess, or maybe that was a good excuse, was too scared of you not wanting me back too. But I knew I loved you. Always knew,” he says, not quite looking at Tony, because even though Tony’s already said it, he has near thirty year old fear in the back of his mind making his teeth ache. Tony catches him by the jaw. 

“I love you,” Tony says, a confession and a benediction and a completion. Rhodey breathes, and his chest feels clear. 

“I love you too,” and it feels like forgiveness. 

[elderbwrry]

Even if he doesn't say so - Chapter 2/?

Kylo/Hux/Poe Witcher AU

Chapter summary: The trouble with trinkets is they make people jealous. Or maybe that's just Kylo.

Chapter 1 here, 2 below or on Ao3, 3

Wordcount: 2029

Kylo raised his sword and brought it down fiercely on the horrible carnivorous vines he'd been hired to clear out of the local village's moor edge. The things had already munched their way through a cow and half a sheep, and the villagers were worried a child would be next. Perhaps to his own detriment, Kylo wasn't really all that interested in the reasons why he'd been hired; he was far more interested in the coin he'd get out of the experience, and the opportunity to really let loose some destructive energy.

Of course, Kylo had been trained well in fencing, dagger fighting, stave fighting and in hand to hand combat, but for his typical work, he favoured the longsword. The weight of it felt so right in his hands, the swing of it, the sharp edge or the blunt hit, the way it gleamed red after drawing blood. For most monsters, it worked perfectly well, but even then the necessity to dodge or force down some kind of potion usually took the pleasure out of the pure heft behind it. These vines, however, were easy game. They thrashed, shot out poisonous barbs, but mostly they stayed in one place. That meant Kylo could swipe the metal through them with abandon, and still be assured he'd meet his mark.

He hacked and slashed, let a furore course through his veins and out into his surroundings, over and over and over through whatever fleshy leaf, woody stem, fibrous buds he could reach with metal and intensity. When finally he let his sword drop to trail its point through the under-brush at his side, it was carnage. He went around the area, plunging the blade as deep as it would go into each root stump until he was satisfied that nothing was living, before stalking away from the destruction.

Chest heaving, he found a flat, dry piece of ground and lay down, looking up at the clouds and basking in the feeling of action still tingling through his arms, into his fingers, out into the earth and the air around him. He felt connected – to the ground he was lying on, to the source of his own power, without being worried he was lost in the force of a potion. This was all him.

Back in the village, when they'd described to Kylo what he was out to fight, Hux had listened carefully and given a fancy academic name for the vines. Kylo stuck with the common name, shrugging and standing to head off immediately. Hux had reprimanded him and delayed him until he'd found an anti-toxin potion to order Kylo to take before engaging the things, which Kylo had ignored. Now, looking down at his legs and seeing several barbs sticking out of them, Kylo again heard Hux telling him, “They have poisonous thorns, you know,” in exactly that tone that could piss him off just as much as it could make him want to pounce on Hux and make his annoyance known by ripping a few tunic seams in the process.

Still, the mage was right, as per fucking usual.

Kylo hauled himself up to sit, drew the potion out of a pocket and downed it, picking the barbs out while he waited for it to take effect. The pricks tingled a bit, but it wasn't anything too bad, certainly not to the severity that Hux's wariness had suggested. Though it was nice that he'd given him the potion. It felt like being looked out for.

He let his mind drift to how Hux and Poe would be doing. The mage was likely offering common-sense medical advice to the villagers in the most deadpan delivery possible, or flicking through one of the books he'd brought with him in his seemingly bottomless bags. Poe had been eager to do his usual thing and perform a little in the tavern. His voice was so wonderful, Kylo found himself thinking, the sparkle in his eyes as he reached the punchline of a bawdy tune, and the way he could command a room, tell a story better than anyone else before...

Well, Kylo should be getting back.

He stood, gave the area one last cursory look for any vines he'd missed, and, seeing nothing, turned to go. He was just sheathing his sword when he stopped, eyes catching on a clump of cheerful orange and white flowers which had managed to survive his visit, just on the edge of the carnage.

“Hmm.”

When Kylo returned to the village tavern and gave Poe those same flowers, Poe's face lit up with a smile. “Well, don't I feel special.”

Kylo noticed Hux eyeing them. Shit, had he done something wrong? “They're not poisonous too, are they?” he asked.

Hux seemed to snap out of some kind of reverie. “No, they're... they're just normal flowers. Excuse me,” he stood from the table he was sat at and made for the stairs.

If Kylo didn't know better about Hux's taste in “useless gestures” like flowers, he would have thought he should have brought Hux some as well.

[break]

They stopped at the next city. Kylo wasn't sure they should stay – there were no contracts of the style he took, and, in his opinion, staying pointlessly at a place like this was a recipe for trouble – but Poe wanted to get some supplies and try out a some new material with a more cosmopolitan crowd, and Hux claimed he had someone he wanted to visit, so stay they did.

Hux disappeared off into the bustling crowds early in the morning, and, later, Poe dragged Kylo off to the market. Kylo started to suspect he was only there so that Poe could make him carry things, which would grate on him usually, but he found didn't mind all that much, since it meant he got to spend time with the bard.

Poe was a people person, a fact which Kylo had always known, but it was never so clear as when he was not trying actively to entrance people as he did when performing – somehow not putting it on made it all the more obvious this was just him. He would flash charming grins to the women and manoeuvred through the crowds with an ease Kylo was jealous of.

For his own part, Kylo always felt the need to keep his hood low, to keep out of sight, even going so far as to cast a glamour some witch had taught him years ago. It was a weak thing, but eyes slid off him like water droplets off a bird. With Poe, however, he didn't need it; the man was so magnetic as it was, there was barely anyone who would bother to stare at anyone else. (Kylo included himself in that number.)

Finally, they came to a stand selling all sorts of gold and silver jewellery, pretty trinkets, gemstones on cords. One brooch caught Poe's eye – a dragon. “This is some amazing craftsmanship,” he noted, striking up an easy conversation with the stall keeper. When the man had to tend to another customer, he turned back to Kylo. “I'd love to fly. Do you think I'd be a good dragon?”

“You'd be great,” Kylo told him honestly. He was certain Poe would command the skies, given half the chance, and push back against the hunters until the entire Continent was dragon territory once again. The mental image morphed into one of Poe in front of a victory banner, the name of a great flying lizard no more than an epithet used by the forces he'd become leader of. It was a good look in him; he may not want to be in charge of his home kingdom, but with a cause like that, and people to follow him, he could be formidable. Lost in the daydream of Poe as some kind of dragon king of the skies, Kylo pointed at the brooch. “Do you want to get that?”

Poe looked at it thoughtfully, enough that Kylo could see the conflict in his thoughts. “Nah,” he said eventually, “it's expensive and... I have stuff at home.” He began walking away, and Kylo trailed after him, thinking it was a pity – the brooch would look so wonderful on him. “Maybe I could get Hux to transfigure me or something,” Poe mused, a glint of humour in his eye as Kylo blanched.

“I'm not sure that's how it works...”

“Imagine it though. Flap flap, blagh, I'm a dragon.”

[break]

A day after they left the city, they made their first camp at the edge of a copse. Kylo was checking over his armour while Poe and Hux were sat on a log opposite him, Poe cooking a fowl on the fire and Hux watching him do it. Kylo had let himself fall into a somewhat meditative state as he worked everything over, but a glint of silver and amber across camp hooked him out of it.

Hux had withdrawn a small pouch from his pocket, and withdrawn from that again a brooch. Another second let Kylo confirm – it was the very brooch from the city market. How had he known? Then he was handing it to Poe with a smooth, “I saw this and thought of you.” Bastard.

Poe was speechless for a second. “You shouldn't have,” were the first words out of his mouth.

“Well I can always-”

“No, I'll...” Poe reached to take it from Hux's hand. Kylo's jaw clenched as Poe's fingers lingered for too long. “Thanks, Hux. This is... wow.” He put it on, pinning it over his heart.

“It isn't straight.” Without waiting to be asked, Hux reached up with deft mage's fingers to fix it, smoothing out the fabric more than was necessary. “There.”

The leather armour in Kylo's grip creaked. Poe didn't hear it, but Hux shot him a look and... was that a smirk?

Then it hit Kylo; those flowers he'd given to Poe weeks ago must have made Hux jealous. It did not enter into Kylo's conception that Hux could simply like seeing Poe happy – happiness could be a part of it, certainly, but Hux was too cunning, too driven by ulterior motives for it to be that simple – or that Hux's feeling at seeing Poe like another person's gift could be any different to what Kylo himself was now feeling at seeing the same.

Well, if this was to be a game of one-upmanship, Kylo was sure he'd find a way to win. To make Poe smile like that, run a hand through his curls self-consciously as he now was – Kylo could do that just as well as Hux could. The rest of the evening, his mind was spinning with things he could give to the bard, trinkets of affection he could source the next time they crossed a place which dealt in such things.

The fire burned down and Hux retreated into his tent for the evening, Poe and Kylo settling on their bedrolls. They ended up facing each other, so Kylo, with his Witcher eyes, was not spared the view of Poe's finger fiddling with the brooch as he smiled to himself.

“He shouldn't have got it for me,” Poe mumbled again, as if sensing Kylo's train of thought, “It's probably gonna get broken.” Then, quieter, “I worry enough about whether you two will stay in one piece, I'd rather not worry about tiny things like this as well.”

Kylo thought about that for a minute. “You worry about us?” He couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. Out of all of them, Poe was the one who should be being worried about – Kylo himself was nigh on destructible, and Hux would probably survive anything out of sheer spite, even discounting his magic.

“Shut up,” Poe chuckled.

Kylo watched him smile up blankly at the canopy. And... if Poe could be happy like that without being showered with gifts, if it would please him more to worry about them less, maybe Kylo didn't need to compete with Hux. Perhaps the three of them were good enough as they were.

[ubemango]

farmer!taehyung 1: after the mulberries (m)

just a re-upload for his birthday!!!! 💖💖💖💖

You’d left the mulberries to soak in wine an hour ago. The vineyard isn’t that far a walk, but you’d still waited just a little before sunset to go picking, and even then you had sweat right through your blouse. Hauling your mulberry-heavy basket back through that muggy heat wasn’t fun. The shower you took, though—it was a different experience of divine. 

The fireflies are out and around the cabana when Taehyung stops by your family’s lot. 

“Hi lady.” He adjusts the basket slung on his shoulders with a jump. “You finally finished the couch.”

The monstrosity of bamboo you relax on creaks when you nod. “Pretty, right?”

“You worked hard,” he compliments.

“Whatcha got in there?”

“Ribs and liver.”

The announcement had rung clear just now, town horns cutting through your cross-stitching session. Cow’s been killed; come get what you want before it’s gone! You hadn’t gone though. You still have ham in storage, and Taehyung makes better beef stew. “Yum. You wanna stop by when you drop that off?”

Taehyung hums. “What do you have in mind we do, miss?”

“I need help building an oven for my sister,” you say. He doesn’t hide it when he sags with disappointment, frowning like he’d wanted another suggestion. “Kidding. Everyone’s gone to the city, you need to keep your fiancée preoccupied another way.”

“You promise it doesn’t involve me getting dirty?”

“I’ll get you dirty with something else.”

“Well shit,” he laughs with relief. He won’t step closer for a kiss because he knows you’ll gag from the smell. “Be back, then.”

You’re just about done stitching the last petal of a sunflower when you hear Taehyung coming along the walkway again. The sun’s set, lamp flickering under the fuzz of the mosquito net. Taehyung’s sure to secure the zipper before he slumps on the cushions next to you. He curls the smell of soap into your side.

The sigh he lets out bears the weariness of a long day. “How long are your parents gone for this time round?”

“Probably two weeks,” you say. Another visit to your auntie who made it big in the corporate world, plus you’d asked for another phone because yours was starting to give out. There’s cracks from when Taehyung dropped it on the cement a couple days ago. “You tired?”

“Mm.” He leaves a slow kiss on your shoulder. “Rice paddies are no fucking joke.”

“Aw. It was so hot today too.”

He lays a light hand on your cheek to turn your mouth to his. Eager with his tongue that says he’s not as tired as he lets on, so you kiss him like you want it. “As much as I wanna appreciate this couch, I don’t want it to break.”

“From doing what?”

“From doing what you said would make me dirty,” Taehyung answers.

You don’t hesitate to get up with shaky legs, leaving behind your unfinished threads. You beckon with impatient fingers. “Bed’s waiting.”

The lamp squeaks when Taehyung twists the flame out. When you pop up from the net you don’t feel the mosquitos flying around anymore. Means all the old people have gone to bed, and now you’re extra-cautious when you bring Taehyung back inside the house like new lovers caught under the secrecy of night. The layout’s familiar to him though—he doesn’t knock you over the low table in front of your bed when he strips you of your dress. His shirt falls on the floor. You tumble with him onto the sheets. 

“Let’s get married already,” he whispers when he crawls over you. “I’ll build our house near that pond you love to visit so much.”

As much as you want to hurry with all the marriage prep, you know your mom would have a fit if she wasn’t there to contribute. Tradition called for ceremony upon ceremony, and if you so much as got a shade of colour wrong for the drapes then you’d be cursed with bad yield, too much rain. Her gossip is petty but you wouldn’t risk it. Taehyung licks quiet love on your neck. “That sounds nice. And I found a new video for a nice marble sink.”

“Yeah?”

“Our bathroom’s gonna be more beautiful than Miss Taehee’s.”

“I donno, Miss Taehee’s built a mean bamboo sink.”

You cluck your tongue. “Whatever.”

“Hm. I’m really fuckin’ sleepy, peaches.”

“Then come back up here and kiss me,” you prompt. He doesn’t. Just sucks lower down your stomach and slipping your panties down for a quick lick up your sex you’re not prepared for. “Tae—“

“Sh-h. Missed you. Let me just…”

He’s got you hooked with a sweet tongue and hard arms wrapped around your thighs. It hasn’t even been that long since you last saw each other; you’d stopped by the rice paddies when you went mulberry picking, and you’d thrown some in his mouth as he worked knee-deep in the water. Had simple conversation with a hi to his little siblings wading around him. You know he’s worked hard today. “Oh,” you sigh when he suckles hard. “P-Please don’t make me come, I can’t last.”

Taehyung pulls off with a hard prod to your clit. “Want me to stop?”

“No, keep going,” you plead. You’re sticky with heat and slick, halfway to wrecked and he hasn’t even put his dick inside yet. Bucking your hips isn’t easy but you try under his locked attention anyway. It’s a grumble he responds with. Then he laves the stretch of your pussy like it’s punitive and you’re heaving. “Oh. F-Fuck, please. Please—I won’t—“

“The fireflies might hear you,” he chides. 

“Shut up.”

“Remember when Grandma Min asked us if we heard that wailing sound before?”

“Shut up.” Taehyung dodges the smack you deliver, catching your fingers between his teeth. You pulse hot from the pinch of his wet mouth. “You’re so annoying.”

He ignores you. “Your hands still taste like berries.”

“Picked a ton. Come up here mister, I miss your mouth already.”

“You’re so sweet.” He probably means it literally but you still smile like it was meant to please you. Your head digs into the pillow when he meets you with a heady kiss, tongue tracing all the noises you don’t want Grandma Min hearing. 

Taehyung grabs at your back. Twisting you over him with the drag of his hand down your thigh till he has your leg splayed over his waist, and you prop yourself up with a lazy elbow and a perplexed expression. “You wanna fuck like this?”

“Yeah. I mean I’d love to pound you into the bed but that’s way too loud and I have zero energy, those goddamned rice paddies.” You snort. He slides his pants and underwear off fast just to rub on your cunt slow. “You still have coconut oil here?”

“Bottom cubby.” A reach to your bedside table, the pop of the vial, a slicked up dick that Taehyung teases along your clit just to hear you sigh before he slides it in. The angle is new but you cream him senseless regardless. You bury a moan in his sweaty neck. “Fuck.”

He growls a low sound. Hands woven tight on your ass so he can grind up on your push down, and your eyes roll back stupidly hard. “Feels so good.”

You vibrate from the praise. It’s silent save for your desperate breathing, the sound of your slippery skin on his. Ribs knocking against each other because you’re so close like this. Your gut twists when Taehyung ruts up that extra inch. “H-ah—! O-Oh, right there. Likethat—“

“Christ,” Taehyung chokes. “Keep talking and I might r-really pound into you.”

“Thought you were tired.”

“I always work hard for this pussy.” You stutter through a laugh, not fighting him when he spreads you flat on the bed under his leaking cock. He’s deep in your cunt within a second, balls a hazard when they threaten high volume because he really can’t keep from fucking you hard when you’re lain pliant like this.

You can’t say you’re not into it either. The bed creaks under Taehyung’s quick hips, sheets bunched tight in your fists. And you don’t prompt the thumb he licks and pushes against your clit but the croaky groan you let out. “Oh god—“

“I want you to come first,” Taehyung says.

It’s not a hard thing to achieve, and you give it to him straight. Your neck aches with the need to stay silent. He doesn’t let up for that exact same reason, cock heady in its thrusts to get you on your high. You know he wants it loud. “T-Tae—“

“Just let me have it, please—!”

You might as well have the mic for the town horns to blast. So you give it to him: burning hot along your nerves just to feel that sweet unraveling you can’t control, convulsing from your core and you know Taehyung feels it too when his dick sputters through his rhythm. You squeal. Grabbing onto his arms to anchor the squirming you’re liable to when you come so good. 

“Fuck,” you heave with satisfaction. And he’s desperate for that high too, cock slapping fast in the race for an orgasm he’s sweat all day for, one he spills over your stomach when he pulls out in the last second. Taehyung pumps with a slow hand, tired beyond his wits. Brain melting in the heat of post-climactic achievement. “Dirty.”

He laughs into your embrace, cum on your stomach and all. “Be my wife already, god. Don’t wanna pull out anymore.”

You simmer with excitement at the thought. “I know.”

“A month.”

“I know,” you say again, with just as much impatience. “How’s ice cream sound for tomorrow?”

“Absolutely wonderful. Please. I worked so hard with the rice paddies—“

“Yeah I know.” 

Taehyung huffs. “I’ll always work hard for you,” he promises. 

You croon into his hair. You won’t ask for help when you go strawberry picking tomorrow. He’s worked too hard.

[yaelsstory]

Product Of A Murderer - Chapter 4

Summary: Yaël, a twenty-four years old girl with the powers to control the four elements, lost all her memories after a terrible incident. While trying to get her memories back, she somehow befriends Wade Wilson and Peter Parker. It’s a bumpy road,  because after being gone for almost a year, everyone thinks she’s dead and there are many different reactions to her comeback. That …and while struggling to remember her life as it was before, she discovers that she isn’t who she thought she was. Maybe there are a few things she doesn’t want to remember at all… .

Note: This story is the third part of the Sweet Child of Mine-serie. You can read the other parts of this serie on AO3 on my account (Caspinn) or on my friend’s account (kalkoenvsneoklak).

If you want to read more about the story of Peter, Tony and Steve, you should read part one of the series: Being a Stark.

If you’re interested in the story of Natasha Romanoff and James “Bucky” Barnes, I suggest you to read part two of the series: Golden Locks, Silver Arms.

Yaël walked into her apartment, turned on the light and put her cello back on its place. It was Sunday, so she had no gardens to tend today. As a compensation for the lost income, she had been playing on the streets all morning.

Yaël took a glass of water, sat down and counted the money she had earned. For some reason, Nothing Else Matters from Metallica was always the most popular song, while Era was way less loved. Not that Yaël has a problem with playing Metallica, Wade had told her to do so, but her personal taste went to Era more. She made the most money out of Nothing Else Matters and when she played it, there always gathered a small crowd around her. Though, Yaël knew for sure that the songs she played would sound way better if there was more than just one cello playing. If Yaël just knew someone who played this instrument too, she'd be able to play so much more epic stuff.

“Okay, let’s do the dishes…” she mumbled to herself as she put away her wallet. Wade may have broken all of her plates but her glasses were still alive and kicking… and filthy from the evening before. Yaël opened the tap and put it on hot. Then she walked to her little radio and plugged her phone to it. There was this song she wanted to learn to play somehow, also one of Wade’s. Where was it? She kept scrolling.

“Aha, here you are!” Was she talking to her phone now? Whatever. Yaël pressed play and Aerials from System of a Down started to play. Now, she had no idea yet how she’d learn to play it, but listening to it already gave her a few ideas.

Then she walked back to her sink and put her hands in the water to test if it wasn’t too hot. She frowned. “You have to be shitting me!” she growled. The water was still cold. Yaël ran to the shower and tested the water there. Cold. Oh, she was so going to call Fury! She had to call him anyways to hear if she finally could contact Steve, because she still got no news from X nor Fury about that.

She dialed Fury’s number and started raging as soon as she heard the cracking of someone picking up.

“HOW DO YOU EVEN DARE, I NEED WARM WATER, I KNOW I CAN WARM IT MYSELF BUT WHY DO I NEED TO DO THAT?! THAT’S WHAT BOILERS AND SHIT ARE FOR! I DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING LAST NIGHT, WADE WENT CRAZY, NOT ME!” she left the flying tiles-part out, of course.

“I-I’m sorry, this is Mr. Fury’s assistant…” Oh he did not…

“DID THAT IMBECIL GIVE YOU THE PHONE AS SOON AS HE SAW I WAS CALLING HIM!?” Weak!

“N-no-“

“HOLY FUCKING COW, TELL HIM TO GO SCREW HIMSELF!” And with that, Yaël hung up.

But this girl had a little problem with impulses. In her anger, because she wasn’t finished with raging just yet, she called another number. As soon as someone picked up without saying anything, Yaël calmed down. Rage made place for shame as she didn’t dare to say a word anymore. She almost hung up again, but X started talking.

“Yaël, what’s wrong?” Oh, god… what was she doing?

“Eh, hi professor.”

“Hello, Yaël,” he answered calmly.

“I have a little problem, no biggie, rather smallie…”

“Yes?”

“I… have no warm water, which I can fix, of course, with my powers, you know… but I was a bit, eh, annoyed.”

“Well, that’s rather… uncomfortable, isn’t it?” he didn’t sound annoyed or anything by her the useless call. Nor did he laugh with her. Yaël sighed.

“Yes, a bit, sir.”

“Can’t you pay for this?”

“I don’t have enough money, as Fury keeps reducing the money I get and gardening and playing cello doesn’t bring up much. Not to sound greedy, of course, I’m grateful for what I get, but…”

“He holds back your money?” X sounds a bit appalled at that. Take that, Fury-kiss-my-ass!

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I think to make me control my impulses more, like this phone call, for instance.”

“That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it? As being impulsive seems to be one of your character traits.” Touché.

“But, it’s okay, I’ll manage! Sorry for bothering you, mister X.” Yaël wanted to stop whining to this man, but his last words, before hanging up, made her feel warmer than ever.

“No, Yaël, you should ‘bother’ me more frequently.”

Her smile quickly faded away again, as she discovered that she forgot to ask X about Steve. Goddammit, Yaël, she thought.

X called her back the next day to tell her that he was going to discuss her situation with Fury immediately, so it’d be fixed as soon as possible. But there was a flaw in X’s plan.

Yaël needed to warm her water, so she cooled off. If she wanted to take a warm shower, she couldn’t enjoy it because her body temperature lowered itself. So, of course, Yaël got a cold. Working in gardens with a cooled-down body didn’t help her cold either.

The next few days, after X’s phone call, Yaël lived in pure coldness. The sneezing, coughing and shivering drove her nuts.

So when someone knocked on the door of her apartment, Yaël was rolled into a blanket, watching series, drinking a small glass of whiskey. She hoped the liquid would make her feel warm. Yaël growled as she heard the knock and rolled herself back out of her blanket.

“Hi,” Peter waved a bit awkwardly as soon as Yaël opened the door. “Wade texted me to come and get you. We’re going to the park.”

Yaël was a bit surprised to see Peter, so her brain malfunctioned for a second. The cold and the whiskey surely didn’t help, even though she only had one glass. “P-parker, I mean park, is, eh, yay! But Mc Dreamy just died, so I’m mourning… Hey, wait, are you stalking me?”

Peter looked at her like he was trying to figure out what she just had said. Yaël sneezed and cleaned her nose with a tissue. “You and Wade were the ones who started stalking me in the first place!” was Peter’s reply. He didn’t seem annoyed, he just wanted to clear the stalking-issue out.

“Yeah, yeah, what ev’s, Spidey,” Yaël shrugged.

“So, are you coming or what?”

“But Mc Dreamy-“

“I think you can use some fresh air.”

“He died-“

“And some sunlight. It’s freezing in here. Come on.”

Peter was very persuasive. He won; he had brought her outside. And even though it was a warm day, as warm as January could get, and Yaël could feel the rays of the sun touching her through her thick sweater, she needed some time to warm back up. It felt like the cold got stuck in her bones. Peter noticed, so he grabbed his sweater out of his backpack and handed it to Yaël. She replied with another sneeze and a muffled “Thank you…” as she cleaned her nose. When she was done, she threw him a wide smile.

“So, how were the DNA-results? You got them, right?” Yaël asked Peter as they walked into the park. She remembered him talking about it during the pizza-night. Peter nodded, he looked a bit nervous.

“Yeah, the guy is my dad, alright…”

“Cool, did you meet him already? Is he kind?”

“Eh, I guess, he’s kinda cool…Yaël, you won’t believe this but I swear it’s true. Tony Stark is my father.” Peter looked at her, seemingly expecting her to freak out. It was hard to explain, the name sounded familiar, but Yaël couldn’t remember why. So Yaël dug and dug into her memories, which weren’t a lot to dig through.

“Sorry, man, I don’t know who that is.” Although it had been his unintended plan to shock her, she had the feeling she shocked him more for some reason. Yaël saw Peter’s eyes grow big and his mouth fall open a bit.

“Tony Stark, lady and gentleman, is the one and only Iron Man,” Yaël jumped a little as Wade suddenly interrupted their conversation. Where had he been hiding all this time? Yaël looked around confusedly. Did he just pop up or had he been waiting in a tree?

“How could you not know him? The guy owns pretty much everything here, comes on the news practically every day.” Well, it still didn’t ring a bell and there was a reason for that.

“Ah well, X and Fury told me not to watch the news,” mostly Fury, “fearing it might trouble my mind, or whatever their crappy excuse was to keep me out of the world…”

No one had an answer to that. Yaël understood, it was kind of weird that she knew so little about the world. They were walking up to a pond in the middle of the park.

“So you want to get to know your daddy, Peter?” Wade randomly asked while he started digging into his backpack and pulled out a bag filled with bread. Yaël raised her eyebrow. What the hell was Wade planning to do?

“Well, I don’t know… For now, I’d rather he didn’t know, but on the other hand I really do want to get to know him. I want to know who he is before I come sending him an ‘it’s a boy!’ card, you see?” Peter answered. Yaël nodded, while she saw Wade walking up to the pond and started throwing crumbs to the ducks. As soon as the ducks noticed him, they swim up to him, happily quacking and diving for the bread. Wade just became the god of the duckies.

This man was completely crazy, but Yaël liked him that way.

Yaël turned back to Peter. “How do you plan to get to know him?” she asked. Peter’s story was kind of sensational. But she didn’t want to disrespect him, because for Peter it seemed to be only stressful, so she didn’t show him how excited she was.

“I don’t know!” he grumbled, obviously frustrated “I’ve been breaking my head about this, but I just can’t get to a simple plan.” Yaël saw Peter frown in annoyance as he kicked against a stone, which flew into the pond.

“Hey!” Wade yelled as his army of ducks swam off panicky, shocked by the stone. Yaël and Peter simply ignored him.

Peter talked and talked. It was obvious that he needed someone to spill his heart to. And all Yaël could do was listen and feed the ducks when Wade gave her some bread to throw into the water. Peter had something normal, domestic and that was exactly what Yaël liked about him.

Okay, yes, he was the one and only Spider-Man, which isn’t normal at all, but he was also just a normal teenager with normal problems. He wasn’t arrogant for being some kind of superhero, or for being over-intellectual.

Yaël discovered that he had a high-functioning brain, as he started talking about making a choice between electrical engineering or biochemistry. As Yaël didn’t really know what these two words even meant, she started asking herself if she wasn’t just dumb. Maybe she never even went to school and maybe Peter was just a mainstream boy. But it didn’t matter, she told herself. Even if Peter was just a mainstream teenager, he’d always be the smartest geek to her.

Peter’s problem obviously was that he needed someone to give him a clear answer. It was kind of cute actually and it proved once more that he was just a normal person.  He couldn’t choose between the two fields, he liked the both of them but… if he’d chose electrical engineering, he’d be able to do a scholarship in Stark Tower. Peter already talked to Mr Stark for an internship, so Yaël didn’t really get what was holding him back. With some luck, he’d somewhat get to know his dad.

So Yaël told him that he should do that, and Peter smiled. It was clearly the answer he needed.

“I would have to sign up for the interview, then. Have another talk with Mr. Stark to get the job…I wonder what Wanda would say about this?” Yaël nodded.

Who was Wanda? Was she his girlfriend? Ooooh! Then why hadn’t she told him to take the internship? Wade started to talk to Peter about the divorce between a pepper (?) and Stark, or something like that. Yaël wasn’t really listening to it, she wondered why Peter hadn’t said anything about a girlfriend before.

“Who’s Wanda?” she asked before she knew it.

“Oh,” Peter answered “she’s one of the new Avengers, telepathic and telekinetic and all, helped me getting Mr. Stark’s blood for the DNA-test a while back…I guess she’s a friend.” Peter shrugged, like having a telepathic/telekinetic friend is as normal as eating cereals for breakfast. But, it was a girl…Yaël had an idea.

“Well, any friend of yours can be a friend of ours. She should hang with us, maybe? I could use another girl in this group filled with testosterone,” Yaël laughed. Yes, a girl to do a bit girlie stuff with. Not like painting nails, but like watching series. It was all fun and games with Wade, but it would be different with another girl.

Watching series… wait, Yaël almost forgot! “Wade! Mc Dreamy died! What the actual f-“

“HOLY LACTOSE-INTOLLERANT COW, YAËL! DON’T SPOIL EVERYTHING!” Wade yelled a bit hysterical.

“Sorry! I couldn’t hold it back anymore!” Yaël answered over-dramatic. She forgot Peter for a second, who tried to get her attention, but she didn’t notice. “And the Winchesters are in trouble again…”

“Don’t you dare spoiling it!”

Suddenly, there was a loud explosion. As a reflection, Yaël checked on her friends. Peter had disappeared, which gave her an immediate heart-attack. He might be Spider-Man, but he’s also a young guy who can die as easily as any human. Right? Or made the Spider-stuff him immortal? Yaël should research that later.

She coughed as soon as the smoke found its way into her nose.

“Gotta go! Stay safe, girlie,” Wade said as he ran off into the smoke.

Well, at least he couldn’t die, Yaël thought as she ran around looking for Peter. Yaël almost fell down as she felt something big fly just over her head, almost touching her. It was a man with giant metal wings, wearing some kind of red goggles. He disappeared in the smoke in front of her. Right, so the fight was in that direction. Yaël ran forward, maybe Peter was there too, maybe she could help. Somewhere, someone grunted and splashed in the water. As soon as Yaël could make out who it was, through the smoke, she started sprinting. Some creepy, shiny person-thing with pointy ears was trying to drown Peter, who was in his Spider-Man suit, in the pond.

Yaël started making contact with the water to attack the green weirdo as she saw someone else sprint towards Peter too. It was a blond, shorthaired man with a bow lifted in his hands, ready to shoot.

“Falcon, the Goblin!” he yelled at the guy with the wings, then he put his hands in the air and made a pull-sign. The winged-dude, Falcon, got there first and pulled the attacker, the Goblin, out of the water. They started struggling in the air, which made Falcon drop his target. Yaël looked at the man with the bow, who fished Peter out of the water. Then she saw the Goblin fall on the ground, jump up and running off.

Yaël was still running, but this time away from Peter. She made some sort of string out of the water of the pond behind her, and steered it at the green creep. Without even a hand gesture, Yaël made the string bind itself around the ankle of the Green Goblin. He fell down and got carried over the ground as Yaël made the string pull her victim back.

Falcon picked the Goblin up again and pulled him back in the air. Yaël looked back to see what was happening to Peter. Bow-guy almost got him out of the water. Then, all of a sudden, something happened above her in the fight between Falcon and Goblin which caused a big blow. Dust flew into Yaël’s eyes. As she rubbed her eyes, cursing, she heard a weird swirling sound, getting louder and louder. Out of the blue, Yaël got knocked against the ground.

It was dark when Yaël opened her eyes a second later and she was pretty sure there was someone laying on top of her.

“Miss, can you remove those walls please?” a way too familiar voice asked her. Apparently, Yaël had built a little stone cage around them in a reflex. With just a knock of her hand against the stones, the walls crumbled down.

“Steve?!” Yaël yelped as she saw the blue eyes as soon as the walls were gone and they were back in the open air. Steve was still holding his shield above them, as protection, even though there had just been a ‘roof’, built by Yaël, above them.

The Captain didn’t move or say anything for a second, completely flabbergasted, like he was staring at a ghost. So… Fury nor X had talked to him already. Did Yaël just accidentally mess up Fury’s plans?

Then Steve finally got up, put her back on her feet, grabbed her arm and ran off to a spot a bit further, more out of the fighting-zone, pulling her behind him.

“What happened?” she asked a bit shaky from the running.

“Falcon tumbled down,” Steve answered. Yaël looked back while wobbling behind her friend. Falcon was still fighting the Goblin. Then she checked on Peter again. He laid in the grass, coughing out some water.

“Hawkeye is taking care of him.” Steve had followed Yaël’s gaze as soon as they stood still. Hawkeye… That name rang a bell… somewhere… maybe…

“You don’t remember him?” he asked when he saw her frown. Yaël shook her head.

“I don’t really remember anything. Something wiped my memories.”

“Something… Wait, you don’t even know what happened? Let me take a look at you.” It seemed like Steve finally acknowledged her presence. He grabbed her shoulders with both hands. He checked her for something, probably wounds or scars, and then he mumbled “How are you even still alive…?” He let go of her shoulders and stood there like that for a moment, frowning, thinking. Yaël decided it was best to give this man the time he needed to process this weird happening.

Someone yelled his name. Steve blinked and looked behind him.

“I have to go help them out.” He said to Yaël, already turning around. Yaël nodded, of course he had to… he was the Captain. No fight could be fought without him. “Where do you live?” he asked as he put his helmet back on.

Yaël gave him her address.

“Go home. I know you’re able to defend yourself, but I just want you to be safe right now.”

“But-“

“Go!” And without another word, the blonde guy who had visited her in a few dreams, ran off again.

As Yaël walked on the streets to get to her apartment, she started freaking out a bit. Random thoughts made way into her head. Yaël had never been afraid of meeting new people, so she surely wasn’t afraid of meeting acquaintances , but this was different. Steve must’ve mourned about her, right? Well, maybe he didn’t, she didn’t want to know that. Maybe he just walked through her death smoothly. Or maybe he’d be disappointed in her for not remembering him sooner. How long had it been?

Yaël noticed the warmth coming from her apartment as she opened the door. She stood there for a second, being pulled from her thoughts. There were no more powers needed to warm her water or her rooms, all thanks to mister X.

Yaël purposely hadn’t used any fire in the park, because she already had a cold from acting like a boiler for her home. She should thank the professor, but she didn’t know how. Maybe he’d just know how grateful she was, or maybe he’d be disappointed in her, just like Steve, for not thanking him. Right when Yaël felt a bit relaxed, she started panicking again. Yaël took a sponge and started cleaning the table as she heard a knock on the door. At that point, she really wished that the old, moldy building she lived in had some sort of intercom so she’d know when someone came to visit her and who it was.

Of course Yaël did know who it was. She quickly threw the sponge back into the sink and walked to the door. There was no time for awkwardness, anger or disappointment, as soon as Yaël opened the door, Steve took her in his arms and hugged her tightly.

Yaël couldn’t help it as she chuckled and dug her face into his T-shirt. So this was how it felt again…  Yaël had a secret love for hugs. They felt way warmer than a kiss or anything, but she felt too awkward to hug someone herself. By the way, there hadn’t been many hug-able people around her lately.

As soon as Steve let go again, he pulled the door behind him shut and looked at her confusedly. “How did you even survive?”

“I, eh, this,” Yaël pointed at her head “is kind of empty. I simply don’t remember, Steve.” His confused look turned into a frown.

“Wait, what? You don’t know what happened to you?” Yaël shook her head and signed at the sofa’s. “Let’s take a seat.” This was going to be a long talk.