#i kinda want to tag this as full metal furies

[distractnova]

ok so i made a post abt this already but it was super rambly and barely got any attention and i feel like i didn’t do the game justice in that post and i’d love to edit it and make it better but i honestly dont see the edit button anywhere??? so i’m just going to remake it hopefully a lot better and try and add pictures if i can, so hopefully this is better sdfgfds i’m gonna add a read-more so you aren’t bombarded with a block of text dhsjkksdj (edit: might not work on mobile)

so it’s called Full Metal Furies, it came out January 17th this year and i think i got it around the 20th of January, it’s made by the ppl who made Rogue Legacy (yknow that super duper hard game?) and to get a much well thought out description u might wanna check it’s store page, the game’s on xbox and steam! (it’s also on sale for the steam summer sale! not for a whole lot but less than 20 dollars) ((its also recommended to play w a controller, preferably an xbox one, otherwise ur stuck figuring out which button does which blindly but once u get over that hurdle its all good, i personally find the keyboard controls annoying so i take the temporary button confusion over getting used to the keyboard)) (((u can also just google full metal furies and the first result should be the main site that cellardoorgaming made for it if u want even more info!))) also here’s the menu!

most things i have to say abt this game are good, but like everything even an amazing game can have its flaws. the good things i have to say abt the game are; i love the controls and i love the fact that you don’t have to play alone for good gameplay, you can still play the game without gathering people to play it, but its still fun when u do, they recently even added in lobbies so u could play w random ppl or ppl u know online rather than a couch multiplayer kind of style, i also love the art of the game, the backgrounds the lighting the pixels and the lines and the characters and how detailed everything is, and i love the character personalities and relations, they aren’t the largest part of the game but there’s enough for me to get attached to them, even throw away kind of ones or minor characters, i love the lore as confusing it can b for me at times i love the battle mechanics and the boss battles, the music is also amazing!!! the album 4 the music is on itunes, apple music and steam if u wanna check it out! i especially love how the all four protagonists are kick-ass women who are goofy at times cus that’s just human!! and they interact w each other in a way i like! and the puzzles are super clever! i also like how you require teamwork when playing w other people, like there’s no leaving the other behind bcus u NEED the other to progress, there are these color shields that assign to a character (only if u have that color in ur party) that only that character can break, even the places that are usually stepping stones for games are incredibly important like the level map, you need the level map to solve puzzles and it even looks amazing! same with the camp where you can level up and access character choice, u also need that to solve puzzles and its extremely pretty, at some point u also get a cat! 

b4 i get carried away abt what i like abt the game i want to name some of its flaws, cause i think i failed to do that in the previous post so here goes. the puzzles are insane, like out of the box’s box thinking, like i accidentally unlocked a puzzle thing by just playing Alex’s guitar (from a music set u get l8r in the game needed for the puzzles) for the fuck of it sdfghfdsfdsds but the only really possible ones for me, a person who is shit at puzzles where the first two stages, and some points of the game can be pretty tough, that’s just me tho, there is a way to tone it down w a setting called story mode, and even then it can b pretty tough, it’s not game ruining but for people who really hate hard challenges i wouldn’t recommend it, unless u think u can overlook that sorta thing bcus u like the art, gameplay and the characters, back to the puzzles real quick; you CAN finish the game w/out the puzzles, but to get the true ending (from what i’ve gathered) you have to solve those puzzles, and they get HARD, for me personally it would take a lifetime for me to solve any puzzles late game by myself, as a person who is not good at puzzles, i could still do it but it’d take a while, and there’s this stealth level at some point within late game where you have to sneak around these enemies or fight a fuckton of difficult enemies if u don’t successfully sneak past them, and it is almost impossible, the game was not made for stealth, although a part of me tells me that’s intentional, cus even if you do like die, you still keep any money and i think level ups to items you have equipped, so the level might be designed specifically for that purpose, it’s a good grinding level or fighting for fun level, but if the true intention was a stealth level it pretty much failed.

and i think that’s all the flaws i can point out, in the end i’d highly recommend this game even with it’s flaws, for me the flaws weren’t many but they where still there, the puzzles are definitely hard as rocks but i think the outcome would b worth it (haven’t finished em but i hope it is) the hardness of the game is also there but heavily intended (this game is made by the ppl who made rogue legacy after all) and you will definitely fail some levels cus failing isn’t always the end, learn from ur mistakes and grow stronger n all that jazz, the stealth level is kind of a mix of good n bad, cus if u look at it in the perspective of it wasn’t really designed to BE a stealth level, and instead just to look like one, i personally can kind of appreciate it, cause the Furies don’t hit me to be exactly the stealthy kind of war-stoppers sdfghfdsjhfs but if u look at the level the opposite way, it’s pretty a pretty bad stealth level

and that’s it, i think i did a much better job than the original post i made, i wish i could add in stuff abt the characters but that would make this post much more larger for my liking, i’m glad i targeted some of the key flaws for me, which didn’t even really turn out to be that horrible once you looked at them, some more stuff i wanted to add, the game has colorblind and heard of hearing modes you can turn on if you experience any of those, which i thought was extremely thoughtful, also the story mode that makes the game easier DOES deduct some of the gold it gives you, not a whole bunch, but it is less than you would get on normal mode. on the final note of this post, i would absolutely highly recommend this game, absolutely worth any money it costs! (20 dollars usually, rite now it’s 13 dollars due to the summer sale) if you read through the whole thing the only thing i can really say is; thank you so much for reading! i hope you want to check the game out after this! and if u do end up buying it i hope u like it!

[theconstantsidekick]

Power Broker (7) | b.b

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader, Past Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, OC x Stark!Reader (brief)

Genre: Fluff with a touch of angst.

Summary: Bucky breaks out Zemo. Sam suggests they need help handling him, seeing as he can push Bucky’s buttons unlike anyone else. So they go to the only person who can handle both Bucky and Zemo, the only Stark left in the Superhero business… well kind of. Only problem is, she seems reluctant.

Warnings: Swearing, definitely.

a/n: These are snippets of scenes that introduce y/n into the story as a character without making drastic changes. The plot points remain mostly same as they take place in The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, except that y/n is also a main character with them. The rest of the MCU events stay the same as well. No drastic retcons. The reader is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Thanks for you support. And oh, I guess the tag list is open?

sidenote: this really is a method I use to calm myself down from a panic attack.

Power Broker (6) | The Whole World Is Watching (1) | Series Masterlist

“You okay?” Bucky asks Sam, when he finally sits down after getting off the phone with Torres.

He’s sitting diagonal to Sam, with Y/n in front of him, who he notices keeps looking down where Bucky’s cleaning his left palm with his handkerchief.

“Yeah,” Sam breathes out. “Just thinking about all the shit Sharon had to go through. And Nagel referring to the American test subject like Isaiah wasn't even a real person.” Sam sits up straight and turns over to look at Bucky, fury evident in his voice. “Just makes me wonder how many people have to get steamrolled to make way for this hunk of metal.”

“Well, it depends on who you ask. That hunk of metal saved a lot of lives.” Bucky argues.

“Yeah, I get that. All right,” Sam concedes. “Maybe I made a mistake.”

There’s a determination in his voice, Bucky can’t yet place.

“You did,” Bucky agrees.

“Yeah. Maybe I shouldn't have put it in a museum. Maybe I should have destroyed it.”

Ah, there it is. 

Bucky looks back at him, his voice is soft when he says, “Look, that shield represents a lotta things to a lotta people, including me.” He leans forward, turning to face him, “The world is upside down, and we need a new Cap, and it ain't gonna be Walker. So before you go and destroy it, I'm gonna take it from him myself.”

“Besides,” Y/n finally chimes in, both men turn to look at her, “You can’t kill a symbol, Sam. Most you can do... is wear it.”

Sam’s phone begins ringing, he picks it up as Zemo walks over with a plate full of…? Who knows? Poisoned biscuits probably. He takes a seat behind Bucky, their backs facing each other. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Thanks. Good work,” Sam says into the phone, presumably to Torres. “They found Madani... Dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea,” He informs the group in front of him.

“I have a place we can go,” Zemo suggests. “I, for one, am looking forward to coming face to face with Karli.” That doesn’t sound fucking ominous at all. “Oeznik, we're changing the course,” Zemo calls out.

Eventually, they all settle in for the night. Each grabbing one corner of the fuselage for themselves.

But sleep is a precious commodity for people like Bucky. It should be sold in tiny little boxes at the jewelry store along with diamonds. At least then maybe Bucky could probably afford some.

He wakes up gasping, unable to breathe, almost choking. Everything around him is hazy except the faint voice that pulled him out of the slumber to begin with.

“James?” The voice calls out, but Bucky can’t fucking focus. There isn’t enough oxygen going into his brain. He isn’t even sure he’s fully awake yet because it kinda sounds like his maa’s calling him, like she did when he and Steve were kids. Nobody calls him ‘James’ anymore… right?

“James?” The voice is louder this time, more urgent. Bucky wants to go to it, see who the fuck actually gives enough of a shit about him to sound so damn worried. “Come back to me, James?”

Y/n.

His eyes fly open, he’s still disoriented and the world still feels like a dream. But he can see Y/n kneeling in front of him, so it really can’t be a dream. Bucky doesn’t have such fucking pretty dreams anymore. 

“There you are, sunshine,” She coos at him. Her voice is hushed and so very soft. “Can you do me a solid and breathe with me?”

Bucky can’t really understand much at the moment but he trusts her, so he nods. And begins breathing in tandem with her. He inhales and exhales heavily a couple of times, coming back to enough of his senses to realize that he's holding her hand. She doesn’t seem to mind though. Instead she’s running soothing circles with her thumb over the back of his hand. And again he’d blame faulty wiring for the feeling of electricity coursing through every inch of contact their skins are making, but it’s not his damn left hand.

“Can you hear me better now?” She asks.

He nods an assent.

“Good, that’s good. Just listen to my voice okay? Focus on my voice and keep breathing. Can you do that for me, sunshine?” She asks gently.

Bucky nods again.

She smiles a small adorable smile and begins, “Rehabilitated? Well, now let me see. You know, I don't have any idea what that means,” She recites. “I know what you think it means, sonny. To me it's just a made up word. A politician's word, so young fellas like yourself can wear a suit and a tie, and have a job. What do you really want to know? Am I sorry for what I did?” She leans over and carefully wipes away the thin layer of sweat that was coating Bucky’s forehead with her hand, as she continues, “There's not a day goes by I don't feel regret. Not because I'm in here, or because you think I should. I look back on the way I was then: a young, stupid kid who committed that terrible crime. I want to talk to him. I want to try and talk some sense to him, tell him the way things are. But I can't.” She pushes his hair back with one hand, still rubbing small circles on his hand with her thumb, with the other. Bucky’s not even sure she knows she’s doing it. “That kid's long gone and this old man is all that's left. I got to live with that. Rehabilitated? It's just a bullshit word. So you go on and stamp your form, sonny, and stop wasting my time. Because to tell you the truth, I don't give a shit,” She completes.

Bucky realizes he’s breathing much easier now. His vision is fully restored and he’s painfully aware of Y/n crouching in front of him on her knees.

“Feel better?’ She asks, a kind smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Bucky chokes out. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” she dismisses easily. 

“I’m sor—”

“—Are you really about to apologize for having a nightmare?” She cocks her eyebrow, her voice coated in annoyance.

“I just—”

“—Fuck off,” she throws back.

“Sor—” He’s cut off by the glare she throws her way. “Fine, what would you like, then?” He asks, completely lost.

“My hand back…”

Well, fuck. 

He’s still holding her hand… Bucky is still holding her fucking hand… and he doesn’t let go even after she asks for it… He looks down at their hands and then looks back up at her. And yet, does not let go. Oh how he wishes it could’ve been the left one so he could’ve claimed innocence, blaming it on Shuri’s  equipment.

Let go, you fucking creep! He scolds himself.

“I kinda need it to go get you some water, that’s all,” she explains patiently. Bucky looks down at their joined hands again, and still doesn’t let go. He can’t put his finger on why. “I’ll be right back, I promise,” she swears genuinely. 

And the moment he hears those words, he relaxes and lets go easily. 

Well fuck times two.

She makes her way over to the cockpit, picking up two water bottles  from the broken fridge and walking right back to him. She urges him to shift a bit and sits down on the extended seat next to him.

“Drink up, cowboy,” she gives him a bottle while setting the other down on the seat between them. “It’ll help.”

When the first drop of water touches his lips he realizes he was parched all along. He chugs more than half the bottle in one go before she interrupts, “Eaasyyy, cowboy. Easy," she says brushing a gentle arm over his shoulder. He looks over at her. “Go slower. You’re taking all the romance out of it,” she suggests, laughing at her own joke.

He’d laugh too, but he just had a gut-wrenching nightmare. So excuse him. 

He finishes the rest of the bottle, putting it down on the floor. They both settle into their seats. He looks over at her and finally it clicks, “Did you— did you just quote Shawshank Redemption at me to calm me down?” He asks, incredulous.

“Maybe…” She replies slyly, her lips curling up at the edges.

“Wha—And I say this with the utmost respect, but what the fuck?” He asks.

And she breaks out laughing. Bucky decides then and there, flying over the Caspian Sea, that he would fight wars to hear that sound again.

“It’s just something I do for myself, you know? To get out of my head, when I’m about to get caught in it…” she speaks in whispers, with a calmness not often associated with nightmares and panic attacks. He can’t help but admire the sight in front of him. The sun’s beginning to rise and the soft rays of the sun filtering in along with the dimmed lights of the cabin makes her look almost angelic. 

There’s a silence between them. It’s comfortable but he doesn’t mind it when she breaks it.

“How did you even know it was Shawshank Redemption?” She asks suddenly.

What is it with people thinking Bucky’s fucking illiterate?

“I read it,” he defends.

“With all the rest of Stephen King’s collection, of course.” She nods in understanding.

“Who told you that?”

“You just did,” she says looking at him, a smile finally breaking out on his face, “nerd.”

Bucky chuckles, “Come on, he writes good stuff, alright?” He defends himself.

“And a lot!” She throws back. “And I mean, a lot, a lot. That like, at least 50 books.”

“62,” He corrects her. “And well, not much else to do when you can’t sleep you know?” 

“Touché,” she agrees with an understanding in her voice that only comes from experience. “Kinda how I ended up with a law degree,” she adds after a pause, almost to herself.

“About that,” Bucky begins, but is cut off by her yawn. She mumbles out a hushed apology, looking embarrassed. “Oh shit, we can do this later, you should get some sleep.” He feels like an ass.

“No, no. Come on, ask whatever you were going to—”

“It can wait. I woke you up—”

“You didn’t—”

He barrels on “—and now I’m keeping you up.”

“I wasn’t exactly having the most peaceful sleep, alright? This is much better than whatever twisted scenario my brain had cooked up... “ she says with a hint of resentment in her eyes. “Besides, I don’t want to miss this…”

Bucky has no fucking clue if she means the sunrise or this conversation because she’s looking at him and he’s looking back at her and the world is fading away.

Until she says, “Ask away, Sarge.” She pushes herself back to the edge of the seat, resting her back on the wall. She takes off her boots, and pulls her legs up, folding them halfway and rests her arms over her knees. Her feet brush over the leg Bucky has folded up sideways on the seat while the other one remains hanging off. He cherishes the small intimacy of the touch.

“Where’d you go?” She asks, her head tilting to follow his gaze.

He looks up at her, “Nowhere,” he dismisses.

“You’ve got me on the edge of my seat here. What’s the damn question?

He chuckles softly, “Oh, nothing big. Just… Did you really get my pardon..?”

She shrugs in response, “I am technically the official lawyer for the Avengers.”

“What?” Nobody told him about that!

“Oh yeah, you wouldn’t know, I guess,” she smiles. “Well, I was Tony’s lawyer, but then I made a deal with Fury to work with Shield and then Washington happened, then the accords and somehow I ended up becoming the whole team’s lawyer.”

“You could’ve told me before,” Bucky says, desperately trying to convey his gratitude. “I didn’t even know it was you. I thought it was Sam pulling strings for me. Least I could’ve done is get you flowers or something.”

She chuckles, “I ain’t dead yet. And I like tulips.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He will.

“Like I said, it all got too much. I just wanted to get things settled and done away with as soon as possible, without much human interaction. I wasn’t coping very well with the whole thing... Morgan was the only person I talked to... I’m sorry.”

“No, no!” He rushes to console her. “I’d just like to have expressed my thanks before, is all. You must be pretty damn good at your job to get a former assassin for Hydra off scot free.”

“Umm… but it wasn’t scot free though, was it?” She asks rhetorically with a cheeky smile.

“Wait… the therapy? That was you?” He asks with disbelief washing over his face. He’s jumped up from his seat and is sitting straighter now. 

“Shh!” She shushes him.

“Don’t shush me!” He whisper yells back at her.

She chortles and then, “I thought it would be good for you.”

The honesty of her words, makes him relax and fall back in his seat, “It is… sometimes.”

She smiles, “That’s better than none of the time…”

Bucky hums in agreement.

Another silence falls over them, just as comfortable as the previous one. She’s looking out the window and he’s looking at her. He doesn’t want to break it but he wants to know her.

So he asks, “Is that what you wanted to be?”

She looks back at him, confused.

“You said the hero gig wasn’t for you… Did you want to be a lawyer?”

“Well, not exactly. It was kind of an impulse decision taken cause of boredom.”

“Boredom?” He repeats the word, hoping to understand how someone can become a lawyer because of boredom. He doesn’t. He chooses to ask, “Care to explain?”

“Alright,” she takes a deep breath, sitting up straighter, “I had a shit time sleeping, and Tony—that overachieving asshat—had just gotten into MIT. He was a teenager now, and thought that made him ‘too cool’ to hang out with me.” Her voice is drenched in sarcasm and mock offence but adoration, evident. She even uses fucking air quotes. Bucky can’t help but smile. “So with nothing better to do after having finally stepped out into the public as Tony’s adopted sister, I went and got a law degree.”

“There a reason you specifically picked law? He asks, genuinely curious.

“Of course there was; Anthony Edward Stark!” She exclaims. He has to reach over and cup her mouth to stop her yelling from waking up Zemo and Sam. The moment he realizes what he’s done he’s about to apologize. But she continues undeterred, simply pulling his hand off gently and adding, “That kid had a fucking neon sign over his head, the size of Ohio, just screaming, ‘Litigation’.”

“He was a troublemaker since the beginning, I take it?” He asks, laughing.

“Oh, If we had to hire him a legal team, he’d never have become a millionaire, let alone a billionaire.” 

Her face is lit up so bright, Bucky thinks he might need to invest in some really good quality sunglasses if he wants to keep seeing her smile like that. And oh boy, does he want to keep seeing her smile like that!

“Couldn’t have been that bad,” Bucky ventures.

“No,” she says, “it was worse.”

Bucky snorts  in disbelief.

“You don’t believe me?” She asks rhetorically, before crossing her legs over one another and moving closer to him. “21st birthday. He can legally drink now, like that had ever stopped him before. But anyway, he’s not only drunk off his damn rocker but higher than the Empire State building, alright? It’s like 3 am in the morning and he stumbles out of the club, leaving behind the most extravagant party of that year, cause the young genius is craving a fucking donut.” Her hands are moving around in animated motions and Bucky has never been this captivated by anything before. “The nearest 24 hour Dunkin’ Donuts is about a 20 minute ride away. Now, the kid might be hungry but he isn’t suicidal. So his brilliant mind supplies him with the most Stark solution there is.”

“Which is?” Bucky urges.

“Breaking into the local convenience store two blocks away from the club, and make the damn donuts himself,” she deadpans. And Bucky can’t help but fucking giggle. “Oh you laugh now but the police did not find it funny at all.”

“Where were you when this was happening?” He asks in between his chuckles.

“Right behind him screaming instructions at him on how to pick a lock,” she replies plainly. “Why do you think they called the police?”

Fuck! Bucky can’t hold it, he breaks out into a hearty laugh, doubling over..

“Will you two quit your giggling?” Sam chides from behind them. They both hush each other but can’t stop their laughter. “Us regular folk need sleep!”

He doesn’t really get any though. Cause the two of them spend the rest of the flight telling each other stories from their childhood. Their giggles even manage to wake up Zemo by the end. 

tag list: @thisisparadisemylove @justab-eautifulmess @intothesoul @buckyisperfect @aryksworld @ceo-of-daichi @ireadthensuetheauthors @fckdeusername​ @hotleaf-juice @itspetitfantomestuff

Read next part here.

Find series masterlist here.

[wtnrscap]

Cursed Words- Benign

Pairings- Bucky Barnes x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Bruce Banner, mentions of past Natasha Romanoff x Clint Barton.

Summary- An attack, a rescue, a recovery... a plan. It’s time to active Project Cursed.

Warnings- (18+) Mentions of blood, death, injury detail, PTSD, panic and anxiety attacks. Swearing, fluff. Dirty talk, dirty fantasies. Eventual smut.

A/N- I think I’m getting back into a flow after college and writer’s block. Again, I apologise for letting the block get kinda out of hand. I’d resigned myself to reblogging other people’s work and writing one crappy line a day. Decided I have to get myself in order. Sorry if mess up the language parts in this and as for the brainwashing explanation, this what I think happened, although I know it’s not.

Also, I’m kinda sad. This series is starting to wind down and don’t wanna say goodbye to this blushy/cocky Bucky I’ve created. Ah well, all good things must come to an end. Taglist is open. Requests are open. Prompts list here.

Ne govori - Don’t talk (Russian)

Cursed Words Masterlist

“Bucky...? Just put her down... No one has to get hurt...” Steve whispers, taking a slow step towards the edge of the compound roof. A very pale Sam follows and you gasp for air, your feet dangling as Bucky’s grip tightens on your throat.

Steve turns his head back to Sam, “You might wanna get in the air. It’s looking likely she’s gonna drop, and if you could catch her...”

“On it,” Sam jumps up and swoops like his namesake, getting an eagle-eye view of you hanging by your throat, Bucky holding you, Steve advancing towards Bucky and the rest of Avengers minus Tony and Thor watching at the bottom of the compound. He supposes they hope to break your fall as well.

“Y/N, are you okay?” asks Steve carefully, trying not to alarm Bucky. You let out a strangled noise, “Yep. Just dandy. Can’t breathe but I’ll be fine.”

“Can you wriggle free? Sam will catch you, I promise...”

“He has by the neck with his metal arm!” you snap, “I suppose the positive is, he hasn’t killed me yet...” you try to hit Bucky with your hands. He growls and his grip gets impossibly tighter, “Ne govori!”

How are you not dead yet?

“What did he say?” gasps Steve and you force a snort, “How the fuck would I know? I don’t speak fucking Russian! Don’t happen to have a plan do you?”

“Working on it...” mutters Steve raising his shield. Bucky moves his head closer to yours, “NE GOVORI!”

“Steve, I think I have a plan... Tell Sam when he gets the signal, he needs to catch me...”

“Is it a stupid plan?”

You nod your head and swing forward, trying to create enough momentum to reach Bucky’s face. He holds you fast, and for a brief minute, you don’t think you’ll reach him. Then, you swing your right arm up into a hook punch, your fist crashing into the side of Bucky’s face. Being a supersoldier, Bucky can take a punch to the face, but you have the element of surprise, a feat which works to your advantage. Bucky’s hand leaves your throat and you plummet to the ground, the sound of rushing air filling your ears. You can vaguely hear Sam screaming, “I THOUGHT YOU SAID SHE’D GIVE ME A SIGNAL!”

Fingers brush against fingers before a hand clasps around yours and a cracking sound snaps through the air. Sam yells and loses his grip and you hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

-

Disconnected voices warble through your ears. Dull pain shoots across your body in spasms and the sound of someone screaming cuts through your head.

Why won’t they shut up?

It takes you a minute to realise. It’s you. You’re the one screaming.

-

“She’s waking up!”

“Stand back! Let her breathe!”

“I think some of us should leave... Sam, leave!”

“Why do I have to go?”

“Because you didn’t catch me...” you grumble weakly, opening your eyes to too bright light and several blurry figures. The light dims slightly and Steve comes into vision with a small smile, “Is that better? I can dim it more if you want?”

“That’s good, thanks...” you groan and shift, trying to sit up. A hand grabs your arm, “Here, let me.”

In a more upright position, you can see everyone. Nat stands by the door, her head resting on Bruce’s shoulder, Sam and Steve are by the window and Tony sits next to you, having been the one to help you up. Sam steps forward arms outraised, “In my defence, when Bucky let you go, he didn’t just drop you, he kinda threw you. When I caught you, the downward force was too much which is why I dropped you and why I now have this”.

Sam waves his right arm in the air which is covered in a cast. That explains the cracking noise when he grabbed on to you. You sigh, “What is it?”

“Broken wrist. I’m not implying your heavy or some shit, just--”

“I advise you to shut up now”.

The whole room chuckles and you turn to Steve, “Is he okay? What happened?”

“I’m not sure this is a conversation we should have now...”

“I wanna know. Tell me”.

Steve sighs and takes a seat at the end of your bed, “When Bucky dropped you, he turned on me. We fought and I ended up smacking him around the head with the shield. Hard. He woke up about 3 hours ago and has been trying to convince Tony to let him go back into cryo”.

“I’ve told him to wait for you. It’s pissing him off, but I refuse to let him go back in without talking to you first,” Tony reaches for your hand and you grasp it, “Thanks, Tony. That means a lot--”

Your voice cuts out and Steve nods his head quickly, “Oh, and you’re not supposed to do much talking. Bucky damaged your vocal cords.”

“So I came out fairly unharmed?” you croak. Bruce shakes his head, “The anaesthetic will wear off in about an hour. That’s why you can’t feel any other injuries”.

“What?”

“The final injury count stands like this. Damaged vocal cords, reduced talking. Severe bruising around the neck, don’t move your head too much. Several broken fingers on both hands, reduced activates involving your hands, internal bleeding, don’t move about fast and... a broken leg, no walking for 6-12 weeks,” Bruce finishes with a wince when he sees the fury in your face. There’s a pause and then you begin to laugh. Everyone stares at you like you’re crazy. Eventually, you manage to choke out some words, “That’s damn good anaesthetic!”

Bruce flushes, “Similar to the one they use for me. You were kinda screaming a lot.”

You look around the room and a small smile spreads across your face, “Well, we have no time to waste. We have a lot to do and--“

Steve cuts you off, “You have to recover!”

“And I will recover, but I need to talk to Bucky, obviously, and I need to talk Tony. Both in private. Can you give us a minute?”

The room grumbles as people start to leave. You tap Tony’s shoulder, “Grab me a glass of water and a whiteboard?”

-

“Alright, what do you wanna talk to me about?” Tony asks, handing you the water and the whiteboard. You take a sip, soothing the pain temporarily, “We need rush Project Cursed.”

Tony’s face twists, “Oh no. No, no, no. Project Cursed is far from being ready. We can’t rush it.”

“Before Friday, I spoke to Princess Shuri. She thinks it’s ready, and she’s the best.”

“I’m offended.”

“Tony, the only reason we haven’t started Project Cursed is that I wanted it to be as painless as possible for Bucky. That isn’t going to happen. The more time we waste, the stronger the soldier gets. One of these days, he’ll take over completely. We have to move it forward.”

“But Bucky will never agree to it. And we have to take brain scans. That’ll take weeks in itself.”

“It would’ve only taken weeks because we wanted a full scan. We’ll have to a skimmed scan.”

“But we could miss something important!”

“That’s a risk we have to take Tony!” you begin to cough and Tony jumps up, handing you the glass of water. As you drink, Tony sighs, “Alright, alright. I’ll get the scanner set up with Bruce and you can talk to Bucky. We’ll do some scans and talk to him about the project. How does that sound?”

You manage a weak thumbs up and Tony smiles, dropping a light kiss to your forehead, “You’ve got a good heart Y/N. Don’t talk too much”.

-

Bucky sits as far away from you as physically possible. He doesn’t look at you, opting to stare at the wall instead. You’d tried to talk to him when he walked in, but he’d just ignored you, so now you’d been sitting in silence for 5 minutes. You sigh in annoyance, “Bucky, we’re talking abou--”

A cough overwhelms you and you blindly reach the glass of water. The glass is inches from your fingertips and you curse Tony for putting it too far away. Panic sets in as your throat is ripped to pieces when a hand rests on your back, helping you to sit forward and take a drink. You gulp down the water, ignoring the slight burn.

Bucky puts the glass back and wipes a strand of hair out of your face, “You okay, doll?”

“Oh, are you talking to me now?”

“I’m not about to let you die!”

You glare at him and Bucky shrinks under your gaze. Almost immediately, he jumps up, leaving your side but you grasp his wrist, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I... I can’t be around you right now...” he whispers. You shake your head and pat the space beside you, “Bucky... Last night was my fault. Clearly, I said a word, one of those horrible words. I wanted to talk to you about a plan to fix all that.”

“I’m not sure it can be fixed... I almost killed you...”

“Bucky, when I took these,” you pull the dog tags out from under your hospital gown, “I knew what was I was signing up for. I have seen you at your worst and I know, the best is yet to come. I want to get these words out your head, but you have to trust me and work with me. Please... I’m begging you...”

Bucky looks into your wet eyes and sighs, sitting next to you, “Fine. Tell me about your plan.”

-

Tony hands you another scan, and you trace your finger across the sheet. It alarms you, what you see. You always knew that Bucky’s brain wasn’t going to be the same as everyone else’s, but this... this was worrying. You glance up at Tony carefully, “I’m assuming you noticed this straight away.”

“I’m not a doctor... But Bruce pointed it out to me... Then Helen looked it over and we ended up sending it to Shuri. We’ve all come to the same conclusion.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and glare at Tony, “Do you understand now? Why we can’t wait?”

“Yes... I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“Realistically we need more scans. Scans for when he’s sleeping, but the physical evidence will have to do...”

“Care to let us in on the secret?” Steve’s voice cuts through yours, interrupting your harried whispers with Tony. You nod your head and Tony moves to stand by the window as you lift a scan and point at it, “This is the area of the brain where the words are stored. At night, Bucky is at his weakest, that’s why he has so many nightmares. If we took sleeping scans, we’d probably see increased hyperactivity here.”

“So why are you so worried about his scans for when he’s awake?”

“Be quiet and you might find out!” you snap, “During the day, this area of the brain is usually dormant. But from these scans, we can see that it’s not as benign as we thought. There is increased hyperactivity during the day and-- Bucky are you okay?”

Bucky nods his head, clenching hard, “Just having an internal battle with the devil. Continue, by all means.”

“Right... uh... There is increased hyperactivity during the day which means that the soldier is taking over more frequently. Um...On Friday, when Bucky was with me, he was relaxed and enamoured, meaning he was at his weakest and the soldier was able to take over easily. As time goes on, it’s becoming less about the words, although they are still the core problem”.

“So what do you suggest?” asks Steve, biting his lip. You look at Tony and he stands, “Project Cursed...”

“Which is?”

“A Hydra-inspired Avengers-modified treatment.”

“Hydra-inspired? What the hell?”

“Hydra wiped Bucky’s mind. They used electrolysis, right? Electric shocks through the brain, so he would associate each word with pain, and make it easier for them to control him. He would hear a word and know he had to do what they said if he didn’t... pain. As the years went by, his body went into auto-drive, hear the words, do as they say, disobey and expect pain. Like training a dog to know when it hears the bell, food is coming, except a lot more brutal,” you explain, “We want to do a similar thing. Small electric shocks through the brain, someone says the words and associates them with something nice. He’ll be able to learn not to expect pain from hearing the words.”

“And what about the soldier?” asks Bucky, his face pale. You smile, “The electric shocks will be fed directly into the storage area of your brain, hitting the soldier. As you get better, the soldier should begin to disappear and, when the treatment is finished, he should be gone completely. We’ve had the green light from Shuri so I’m confident this could work. Although it won’t happen overnight. It’s going to take weeks, months, maybe even years. I can’t pretend it won’t be painful for you either. But it’s the best plan we’ve got.”

Bucky and Steve glance at each other, their eyes betraying a whole conversation that you can’t hear. Then, Steve snaps, “No. Absolutely not. This isn’t treatment, Bucky, this is torture!”

“I’ve had 70 years of it, pal, what’s a few more? And this should help me, in the long run”.

“In the long run! Bucky... I can’t tell you what to do--”

“You certainly try...”

“But if you do this... I can’t be a part... I can’t help you...”

“Steve... you want these words gone from my head as much as me. I’m going to need your help and support...”

Steve looks scared and your heart reaches out to him. He just wants his pal to be free, with no more pain, and this... this could set him back months, mentally. Eventually, he sighs, “I wanna sleep on it. And I think you should too.”

Bucky shakes his head, reaching for your hand and pressing a light kiss to your knuckles, “I don’t need to. As long as Y/N can be there, with me, helping me, then I don’t need to. I have more of reason than ever to get these words out of my head.”

Steve doesn’t respond. His eyes glaze over where Bucky’s hand meets yours and the slightly visible chain underneath your hospital gown, and he knows. Bucky’s made his choice, and there’s no moving him. He sweeps out of the room, closely followed by an apologetic Tony. You turn to him, “Do you mean it?”

“What?”

“That I’m a reason for you wanting to get rid of these words?”

Bucky smiles and presses a kiss to your lips, “I gave you those dog tags in the name of love. You are my biggest and best reason. You are my hope.”

Taglist:

@indecisivedolly

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 5- Number Five

Summary: You finally found Five, drunk, but you found him. Patch is dead. And now you and Diego are on the hunt for the masked killers with assistance from Klaus.

Masterlist - where all the other chapters are⚔️

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes @winterboobear11

You burst through your apartment door with a new rage overthrowing your recent grief, Diego’s right on your tail, trying to catch up with you the best he can. Your strides are fast as you march hastily through the small room, heading straight for Five. “You boy scout looking fuck. Do you have any idea what you’ve just caused?” You growl launching yourself at him with fists in the air, without warning Luther catches you before you can really tear into Five. “No! Let me go you fucking monkey boy, get your hands off of me!” You yell at him, as he lifts you up off the ground, “I can do this as long as it takes you to calm down.” Says Luther calmly. You continue to struggle in his strong grasp, seriously contemplating if you’ve lost it enough to bite him before Diego sets a hand on your tense shoulder. Further stopping you before you can find a way to break free by injuring Luther, “Y/N, please.”

You make a lowly animistic sound, like that of a beaten circus tiger, as you stop struggling, “Fine.” Luther then sets you down.

“Now, wanna tell us what you’re talkin’ about?”

You glare at Five, still upset from finding Eudora dead in that motel room. You were gonna have lunch with her on Friday and then explain why Diego’s been so persistent about the shootings. You hadn’t had a chance to talk with her yet. And now you never will.

“Your brother’s been pretty busy since he got back. He was in the middle of that shootout at Giddy’s, and then at Gimble Brothers, after those masked psychos attacked the Academy, looking for him.” You snap, staring daggers at Five.

He barely moves a muscle, “None of which is any of your concern.” He mutters calmly, way to damn calmly for you.

You scowl at him in annoyance, “It is now you little shit. They just killed my friend.” You vent back, stepping in closer, Diego has to grab your arm from tearing into the tiny 58 year old man in front of you.

“Who are they Five?” Questions Luther, breaking the tense atmosphere.

“And where the hell are they from?” Adds Diego, hand still firmly grasping your arm.

Five gives you all a tired look, “They work for my formal employer at the commission. A woman called the Handler. She sent them...to stop me. Then as soon as Y/N and Diego’s friend got in their way, well, fair game.” Five shrugs, so this is just business is business to him.

“Well they’re my fair game now. And I’ll make sure of it that they pay in blood.” You sneer, turning around and walking briskly towards the door, Diego hot on your tail.

“That would be a mistake Diego, for you to let her go.....They’ve killed people far more dangerous then you think.” Calls Five, you stop by the railing to look back at him.

 “I’d like to see them try and kill me then....the next time I see them will be when I drive my dagger into their throats.” You growl with malice, turning away from them to walk out the door.

Luther looks to Diego and then back at Five with a stunned face, “I don’t care what she does. She just better not miss.” Says Five with a sigh, as Diego nods while making towards the open door.

You get into the passenger seat as Diego takes the steering wheel, he turns the car on, turning to look at you, “Are you okay?” He whispers gently. You stare vacantly out the side window, “No. Just drive.” You mumble sadly, you’re trying to be strong but one of your only friends has just been killed violently by two masked psychopaths. It’s a bit difficult if you’re being honest, but you’re too numb with silent fury to cry at the moment.

He nods in understanding, putting the car into drive and taking off.

——

You stand silently in Diego’s doorway at the Umbrella Academy, he pulls out a metal briefcase from under his bed, and opens it up. It’s his old knife case, he then puts his remaining free knifes that are hiding on him in the case. He quickly shuts it and locks it up, leaving it on the floor to stand up and walk over to you. “Do you have anything you need to get before we head out?” He says while holding the sides of your arms. You look up at him, “I am all that I need.” You whisper valiantly, meaning absolutely every word, underlying so much more behind that small sentence.

Your mind flashes back to your younger days when you were fighting alongside with the Umbrella Academy, you had wanted so badly to prove that you belonged among them. Your mindset solely focused on accomplishing the mission successfully, hoping that Reginald would be satisfied with your hard work. Through your attempts, you may have went a little overboard, losing control at times, lashing out furiously on the enemy. You turned into something incredibly dangerous, but at the time all you saw was a warrior, a hero, a vital piece of the Umbrella Academy that could not be held back. You were so lost in your own success and the satisfaction of Sir Reginald that you didn’t notice when the Umbrella Academy was starting to become afraid of you. It was the most lonely and darkest couple weeks of your life that you’d ever felt, and you couldn’t fully understand why they wouldn’t want to play with you. It started on a mission, you’d just discovered that whenever you were completely in full rage mode, your eyes would turn the color of molten lava, a deep orange, perhaps your body’s way of showing off the raging fire within you, or so you’d tell yourself. Quite opposite of your original eye color. You’d never realized it before until Allison pointed it out after an intense mission once. To keep a long story short, you killed a bunch of terrorists who were about to kill your friends. You tore into them wildly, your eyes practically glowing embers. You were breathing heavily and covered in other people’s blood by the time you were done. For a week they wouldn’t even look at you, it took longer for Ben to come around. And you absolutely hated yourself for it. Of course Reginald was ecstatic, mentioning your achievement at dinner one night, of how you unlocked a hidden power within yourself and that the others should strive to do the same. The rest of them fumed in jealousy, deciding to ignore you for awhile as payback, since they couldn’t hurt you physically. And they were to scared about what you could have done back at them. You felt like a caged lioness, a powerful and deadly creature, being taunted and stared at from afar by snotty children who are safe and content behind the thick glass.

But life goes on, and you’ve sacrificed yourself for them a couple hundred times since then, more then they’ll ever be able to repay. With time they began to understand you better, and amazingly to your great surprise Diego, out of all people, had a ginormous crush on you. Which led to even more wonderful things you’re scared little 13 year old self could never have even dreamed of. You got older, stopping caring about Reginald’s approval, and moved on with your life. Things got much better after that.

Your wandering mind comes back to reality when Diego kisses your forehead, he understands your somber silence, choosing to comfort you in the best way he possibly can. He releases you, turning to pick up his silver briefcase as you take a step out the door. Waiting a brief moment for your vigilante lover to catch up with you.

As you walk down the stairs and across the messy carpet past the damaged fallen chandelier. You notice Klaus who’s standing by the broken crushed table, he looks a bit lost and out of it. Oddly enough it’s not from any alcohol consumption or other substances. At least that you can smell, he’s clean.

“What happened here?” Klaus asks curiously, you look over to him with a casual shrug.

“Long story.” You add, not really wanting to get into details right now.

“You look like shit.” Diego tells him dryly.

“Why, thank you. Hey, where are you two going?” Wonders Klaus, watching the two of you head for the door. “Nope.” Snaps Diego quickly, Klaus’ face falls at his denied request.

“I’m not giving you a ride.” Grumbles Diego, who’s stopped walking to look at Klaus. 

“Oh, come on, man. You know I can’t drive.” He whines, moving in closer to Diego. You stand with your arms crossed by the fallen chandelier, patiently watching the brotherly interaction between the two of them, who’re directly in front of you.

Diego shakes his head, “I don’t c..” You suddenly cut him off, “Go get your shit. We’ll be in the car.” Klaus’ face breaks out into a grateful smile, he laughs lightly before patting Diego on the chest, turning to get his things. “Okay, great. I’ll just get my things. Two minutes.” He says happily, rushing past you with a grin to get whatever it is that Klaus needs.

Diego turns around to give you a what-the-hell kinda look, you casually shrug, “He said two minutes.....and he looks like he could use some friendly interaction.” Diego just sighs, nodding in agreement, “Yeah alright...but only because you’ll be with me.” He replies, before turning towards the door.

You smack his bum as you scoot past him, “It’ll be fun, just like old times.” You quip while Diego shakes his head in amusement, following you out the door.

——

You’re comfortably sprawled out in the backseat, feeling the dull roll of the car moving speedily down the road, while you listen to the hum of the engine. Diego drives, as Klaus drinks from a wine bottle, looking dismally out the window. “You okay?” Diego says after a quiet couple minutes, not getting anything from Klaus, who takes another swig. “Wow. This is a first. My brother Klaus is silent. How bout’ that Y/N.” Diego glances at Klaus again, “Last time you were this quiet, we were 12. Ran down the stairs wearing Grace’s heels, tripped over, and broke your jaw. How long was it wired shut again?” He wonders.

“Eight weeks.” Whispers Klaus tiredly, still staring out the window.

“Eight glorious weeks of bliss.” Smiles Diego, you sit up sticking your head between the two of them. “And I missed out on it all, damn.” You mutter, trying to mentally visualize the whole scenario. Klaus suddenly lifts his head up, “Hey, just....just drop me off here.” Diego nods, you look across the street at the building in mind, Lakeshore VFW, but that’s where the veterans go? None of you have ever been in the army, at least that you know of.

Diego pulls into the small parking lot, Klaus jumping out as soon as he stops, now you’re very confused. “You sure you’re all good, Klaus?” You call after him, he ignores you as he nervously walks up to the door, opening it and walking inside. You look over to Diego who’s equally as puzzled, he turns around about to start the car again. When you instantly reach your hand out to touch his shoulder, “Wait, I’m gonna go in and see what’s up with Klaus.” Diego stops, turning his neck to look at you, “I guess I better go in too. Not that you couldn’t handle yourself Y/N...I mean Klaus probably needs me an...” 

“Diego.” You deadpan, shutting him up instantly. He takes the keys out of the ignition, as you open up your door, Diego doing the same. The two of you then start walking towards the entrance, clueless as to why Klaus would have wanted to stop here.

You walk in, finding him moping around some old WWll photographs, you sigh, beginning to walk over to Klaus, Diego right behind you. Throwing a hand on Klaus’ shoulder you unintentionally startle him, “Just go away, please.” He asks you, while rubbing his eyes. You let go of his shoulder, half-sitting yourself against the pool table, Diego steps up next to him, “Not until you talk to us.”

“Is that a threat? You threatening me?” He mutters, annoyed that you two won’t leave him alone. Suddenly a random guy to your left walks up to the three of you, “Guys. This bar? It’s for vets only.” He states, urging you all to leave.

“I am a vet.” Says Klaus, by the way he announces it, you can sense he’s not lying. But how would he have been a vet. Something wrong definitely happened in that whole day he was missing.

The veteran chuckles, not believing him in the slightest, “Really? Where’d you serve?” He says amused, glancing back at his friends. “None of your business.” Snaps Klaus defensively. The grumpy vet starts to lose his humor, and apparently his temper too. His face falling, “You got balls comin’ in here, pretendin’ you’re one of us.” You glance at Diego, who gives you a what-is-even-happening, look. Klaus turns around, “Oh, I have every right to be here, just like you. Asshole.” He says growling the last word. Shit. The large and pissed off vet takes a step closer, you step in front of Klaus, raising your hands up to stop him, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy now, soldier. All right? My friend here has had one too many.” You look to his friends beginning to gather around behind him, then back to him, “Let’s just call it a day, all go our own way. No harm done.” You tell him, doing your best to reason with him and get out of here without a brawl. “Sure thing.” He says bluntly, but you’re unconvinced. “Thank you.” You answer anyway, trying to move things along, you turn to Klaus and Diego, “Let’s go..” “As long as you apologize.” Interrupts the vet, Klaus looks back at the photographs giggling to himself. You give Diego a defeated look, as you turn around to face the vet again. “Fine. I’m sorry. He’s sorry. We’re all sorry. So...are we good?” You tell him, restraining a sour tone the best you can physically muster. He looks at you, pointing to Klaus, “I wanna hear him say it.”

“Hey, man. I’m just trying to..” “No, no. He’s right Y/N. He‘s right. He’s right.” Interrupts Klaus, turning around to face the angry vet and his buddies. “I’d like to apologize...that you...are depriving some village of their idiot!” Growls Klaus, this not sitting very well with the vet. He swings at Klaus but misses when Klaus swiftly ducks, standing up again to head butt the guy. The guy staggers back, his buddy throwing a fist up to catch Klaus across the head. But before he has a chance Diego rushes in, deflecting the punch and kneeing the guy in the stomach. “Seriously.” You groan at all of them. Klaus running past you to jump on the back of another random guy who’s ready to fight.

You roll your eyes, men. Deciding enough is enough you spring into action, it only takes you about 10 seconds before they’re all groaning in pain on the ground, dazed as to how you just took them all out so fast. You stand near the exit, adjusting your jacket. “Let’s go. Right fucking now.” You snarl at Diego and Klaus, who instantly get up off the floor, making a beeline for the door.

——

You’re sitting in the backseat of Diego’s car, him at the steering wheel and Klaus in the passenger seat. Your little trio parked across the street from Giddy’s Donuts. “You got a big mouth, you know that?” States Diego, referring to Klaus’ jabs at that old grumpy vet. “Oh, wow. What a truly shocking revelation, Diego.” Mumbles Klaus unamused, as he goes to open up a bag of pills. “Everything’s a big joke to you, right? Would you stop it?” Diego yells, grabbing the pill bag out of Klaus’ hands. “Why are you putting this shit in your body?” Interrogates Diego, not being able to understand why his brother always does this over and over again.

Klaus blows a raspberry into the air, in frustrated defeat. “Check this out Hmm?” Says Diego as he lifts up his black sweater, where he then pats his toned stomach. “My body is a temple. All that shit you do, it’s just weakness.”He states. You lean up closer in between the two of them.

 “That’s so inspirational.” You add sarcastically, earning a small snort form Klaus.

 “Well weakness feels so good.” Klaus then reaches his hand up to take a pill, Diego reacting fast as he smacks it out of his hand.

 “What’s going on with you? Huh?”

“Don’t hit me asshole!” Yells Klaus, you just sit back and watch the show, Diego leaning in closer as he jabs a finger at him, “Don’t tell me everything is all right, because I saw you in there. You were crying like a baby!” Explains Diego loudly, you covering your ears a bit at his explosion. “Because I lost someone.” Barks Klaus, who looks down at his hands, sighing sadly, “I lost someone. The only...The only person I ever truly loved more then myself.” You sit up again, looking between the two of them. Diego looks out the front window with a puzzled look on his face, not expecting that answer. Klaus just gives you a sad smile, “Cheers.” He says, popping a colorful pill in his mouth.

“Well you’re luckier then most. At least you can still see them...when they....yeah.” You whisper quietly, thinking about your parents and Patch. You lean back into the backseat, turning your head left to look out the window. Diego turns his neck to look at you, about to say something before he catches sight of Hazel through the back window, who’s breaking into a car. “That’s our guy.” You sit up, turning around to see for yourself, “Huh. No shit.”

“Hey, I know that guy.” Adds Klaus, watching Hazel through the side mirror. “How could you possibly know that...” Begins Diego.

 “He and a really angry lady tortured me. I barely got out with my life.” Explains Klaus, revealing a heavy part that you missed. You furrow your brows frowning, “Cha-Cha.” You mutter quietly to yourself. These psychos are dead. Diego abruptly starts the engine, pulling out to follow Hazel to wherever he’s going next. And so the hunt begins.

——

The three of you sit in the car, outside of the crappy motel that Hazel unknowingly lead you to. Klaus is sipping on his bottle of wine, while Diego scans the area, you watching the motel windows closely. You suddenly spot movement coming from the blinds of one on the upper floor, on closer inspection it’s a woman, looking incredibly familiar, that must be Cha-Cha. “Bingo.”

 Diego looks up, catching a flash of her hand, as the curtains conceal the rest of her. You get out of the car and wait for Diego as he takes out a knife, Klaus just looking at you two bored, “You know killing these people is not gonna make you feel any better, Y/N.” Adds Klaus. You stop for a second to think about why you’re doing this. Diego’s here to avenge a friend, but you’ve kinda been leading the charge this whole time. After all, you were closer friends with Patch then Diego was, and you also know that these fuckers have murdered countless other innocents. They must die, and you’re the best person to do it.

You lean down by the window to look at Klaus, “They killed my friend and countless other innocent people, kill one save a thousand.” You growl, standing back up at the sound of a door opening. You look up, watching as Hazel walks out the door and down the hallway, out of sight. You quickly follow, leaving Diego and Klaus to argue about something from behind you.

Turning a corner, you silently walk up the metal steps to the second floor, Diego practically materializing behind you, daggers out and ready to fight. You both reach the top, but before any of you have time to move Klaus walks up, “So, what exactly is the plan here, you two lovers in crime...fighting?” Muses Klaus, making it to the top steps. “I told you to wait in the car.” Grumbles Diego who gives you a look, “Yeah, but you also told me that licking a nine-volt battery would give me pubes.” You raise an eyebrow at Diego, “We were eight.” Klaus just looks up at Diego giving a shrug as he takes a couple steps. Diego grabs is arm, stopping him quickly as he pulls him down the steps, you’re watching this half annoyed and half holding in laughter. Diego then races back up the stairs, giving you a confident nod as he turns towards the blue motel door. Giving it a hard kick, the door swings open, revealing nothing on the inside but a tv blaring loudly with some western cowboy movie on. “Very subtle.” You quip, slightly irked at how less then clever his surprise ambush was. You turn to the right, looking down at the parking lot as you unexpectedly hear the scratching of tires on pavement. What the hell?

You move towards the railing as a blue car comes speeding into view, with Hazel and Cha-Cha in their familiar get up of Halloween masks and guns. That are now shooting deadly bullets at you and Diego, oh shit Diego. Without warning a bullet rips into your right upper shoulder where your arm and torso meet. A second slicing just below your bellybutton. Diego grabs at you, hauling you backwards as another bullets clips him in the forearm. To your great surprise, Klaus pulls the both of you back even further, evidently helping the two of you avoid getting shot again.

“Oh, man. See? Used to think I was an idiot?” Sasses Klaus at a panting Diego.

 “I still think you’re an idiot.” He claps back, holding onto his left arm, where the bullet went through.

 You on the other hand are leaning against the staircase railing, sucking in pained breaths as you slowly feel the bullets getting pushes out of you. The flesh beginning to fuse back together once again, Diego and Klaus finally look over to you. “Y/N, you alright?��� Wonders Klaus. You glare up at him still grimacing in pain, “No.” You wheeze, shutting your eyes tight, as both bullets are being forced out of you by the rapid healing process, ultimately at long last they drop to the floor, making a ringing sound as they hit the metal staircase. You stand up straight once again, your eyes going wide in realization, “They’re getting away!” You blurt out, racing down the steps, Diego and Klaus hot on your heels. When the three of you make it back to Diego’s car, you notice how the front tire is completely flat. You all groan in frustration, now what? “Was this all part of your master plan?” Doubts Klaus, miffed that no one has a ride now. “Shut up.” Snaps Diego, looking around for something that could assist in the matter.

You look up to the sky, putting your hands on your hips, “Fucking fuck.” You whine loudly to the sky or birds or whoever would listen, snapping your head back down, your eyes land on the large ice cream truck. Parked ever so sweetly and conveniently in front of you. With a new idea fresh in your mind you walk past Diego and Klaus, stopping in front of the white and cutely designed truck. “I found our ride.”

They turn to look at you, Klaus smiling in excitement as Diego’s face falls. “I’ll drive.” Blurts out an ecstatic Klaus.

——

Sticking your head out the window you catch the scent of Hazel and Cha-Cha, they smell of gun powder, fast food, and death. So it wasn’t exactly that difficult to get on their trail. Gosh I’m just like a frickin bloodhound, you think. You sit on the right side while Klaus drives, Diego slumped in the middle seat, putting pressure on his wound. Why you let Klaus drive? You’re pretty sure you have some bullet fragments still stuck in your shoulder, no you definitely do. Why else would it still feel sore, damn you’re gonna have to take those out later.

Now that you look at your surroundings, there’s nothing but trees and farm fields. Plus Luther and Five, standing next to a parked car on the road, while Hazel and Cha-Cha point guns at you from further down the road. Shit. You hold on tight as Klaus manically laughs while plowing into the two assassins. Everything happens so fast and the next second you’re jostled again when the ice cream truck rams right into their getaway car. You smack your head off the window, cracking the glass, as Diego gets shoved into the dashboard. “Fuck.” You seethe through clenched teeth, bringing your hand up to touch the spot on your head. No blood is felt to your great relief and now the pain is gone, unlike Diego who’s clutching his injured arm in pain.

You hear Klaus yelling for you two to get out, not wanting to wait for Diego’s slow ass to make it out of the truck. You kick your door open, breaking the lock in the process, oh well. Not dwelling on the matter, you book it to the other side where Luther and Klaus are holding up Diego as they start running for Luther’s car, without a second thought you follow them, not caring enough to bother with either Hazel or Cha-Cha. You’ll get your chance, the safety of your family is way more important at the moment.

You run around to the passenger side of Luther’s car, Klaus and Diego taking the back, as Luther gets into the drivers seat, hitting the gas and flooring it.

[minccinoocappuccino]

Beyblade: Evolution Review

Finally got around to writing this review for the person who asked for it

I’m going to break this review into sections so I don’t forget anything.  

◉ Mechanics ◉ Graphics ◉ Gameplay ◉ story/Plot

⚠️ I’m not a game reviewer and these opinions are just that opinions ⚠️

Mechanics 

Ok so the big thing about this particular game is that you launch the beys through gyro and motion sensors using the Nintendo 3DS’s camera...or at least that’s how it’s supposed to be done. I’ve found all you really have to do is flick your 3DS towards or away from you and it counts as a launch. You do have to launch it at the right time however as you get spirit bursts that “ make your bey stronger for a short time”. If you do launch it off it really doesn't matter much you just start off with less spirit burst which I’ll explain later why it’s fine. There's really not much else to this gimmick though you only use it to launch beys and that's it so it's only about 2 secs of a beybattle despite being one of it’s biggest selling points.

Another mechanic is changing the bey parts to make your own, which is one of the best parts in the game. You can even try and recreate character beys or just come up with your own! They draw back to this though is if you want to win you really can’t use some of the beys at all. The game has the 4 types of beys in it Attack, Defense, Stamina, and Balance but it might as well just be Defense, and Stamina only. The Attack beys are so useless using them is an instant loss unless you get a lucky knock out really fast. They have no stamina at all so once you launch them they run out faster than the ps5 did, you have seconds to knock out the longer lasting beys with no help from your spirit bursts since you won’t have time to gain them. Balance beys suffer from the jack of all master of none curse, even if you build it with mostly stamina , you might as well instead make a full Stamina instead. Side note: Orion is one of the best beys to use its really OP though it’s only able to be bought late game Sagittarius is a good early game one to pick up. 

Now let's talk about spirit bursts, they suck. There's not really a gain to using them, yes your beyblade gets stronger by spinning fast but it goes so fast it usually misses the other bey and if they other hits you while your going so fast you have a higher chance of just flying out the ring. After 35 hours of playing this mechanic has helped me exactly zero times but has caused me to lose 7 times that I remember.

Graphics

There's not actually much to talk about with its graphics seeing as how it’s almost identically to other beyblade games. They did put a lot of effort into trying to make the beyblades look realistic, but there's only so much early 2000s graphics can do. The sprites look like they were drawn and then squished down to look pixelated; they still look good however, resembling the show's art while the pixelated effect gives it a more game feel. The text boxes however are really bad imo...There are solid blue boxes that go across the entire bottom of the screen with plain white letters over it for the dialogue. The worst part about them is the characters' names are in the same front, size, and colour of the dialogue so it all just blends together. 

The backgrounds are all neat and nice nothing to complain about….except the “special backgrounds”. These are for Battles and some Mini games and they're just real life pictures of parks or buildings. There so blurry and pixelated they look like they were taken from google earth. I know they wanted to give this game the feel of playing an actual bey battle in real life but starting at a clearly modeled and textured bey and area with real grass and buildings behind it is strange and out of place. This is just a nitpick since you really don't notice it much and again I know it’s early 2000s graphics so I can't complain much I still feel just putting in backgrounds from the show or just drawn ones would have looked better.

Gameplay

So the game is like a RNG where you go to different places on the map, meet characters from the show, battle them and enter tournaments and shop for parts. It’s very simple and easy to get the hang of and progress. You have 50 turns to do all this and become the champion™. On your 10th turn you enter tournaments to win beypoints to buy new parts. There are two stadiums for tournaments and you can go to each to do this, they have different rules so pay attention to this before entering. One you can use 3 beys and the other only one, if you can only afford one good bey you need to enter the one bey only one or else you will get crushed. On your turns you progress by going to random places on the map and meeting and talking to the characters to earn points, and their friendship. By befriending a character you get to unlock their mini game plus they will give you parts of their beys as gifts which is great if you befriend Kenta but Ginga might as well be giving you trash. Each talk/battle with a character takes up one turn and it takes a couple of times fighting and beating them to get to a high friendship level enough for them to fork over there bey. Since you only have 50 turns if you want a certain bey from a character focus on them only until you get it. Fully befriending a character will also unlock more characters that show up on the map as well.

You can buy beyparts at the two stores in game the B-pit and WBBA store with Madoka and Hikaru running them. The WBBA has better choices and higher ranking beyparts but the B-pit is cheaper so starting out with the B-pit is usually the best option and then switching over after earning good parts from characters. Going to the shop does use up a turn so buy what you need in one go.

The actual battling is boring and not fun at all. Like I said earlier they really wanted this game to give you the feel of real life beybattling so after you launch your bey you just sit there and watch it spin you can’t control it all so when you get knocked out or win it feels less like skill and more like luck. I get the skill is supposed to come from customizing the best bey but unless you're using the meta beys you kinda lose so you're forced to use beys you might not like to win there's really no room for innovation. The spirit burst was supposed to cover this by giving you a sense of doing something in the battle but it’s so useless most of the time it feels like you wasted it. It’s not even an auto thing you can’t just press the spirit button and your beys instantly get its power you have to aim it and hit your bey with it while its spinning and if you hit your opponent they get it or its just gone.

The minigames aren't a big thing in the game once you befriend a character you unlock his/hers game, which two characters can have the same one, to play and earn points from it. So far I’ve only played 5 different minigames: Balloon pop: you shoot a bey at balloons rising upwards different coloured balloons will give you different number of points the faster balloons give the most Track: you tilt your DS side to side to keep you bey on the track the faster you get to the end without falling off the more points you get Ring: You shoot your bey threw moving rings the more rings you shoot threw in a row the more points you get What part is it: parts of the bey will show up on screen and you have to guess if it's a Facebolt, Energy ring, Wheel, spin track, or tip. The more you guess right the faster they fly across your screen and the wheel and energy rings can look so close together since they are zooming so fast Guess: It gives you a Facebolt, Energy ring, Wheel, spin track, or tip and you have to guess what beyblade it's from.

Story/Plot

The game was marketed as the bridge between Fury and Shogun but there is nothing about it that does that. It’s clearly set after Fury but you don’t know when. It plays out with you battling character after character shopping and mini gaming in between and then on turn 50 battling in a tournament and hoping you win and become the champion. There’s no story to it other than that no underlying plot or an evil villain you need to stop. Just battling and becoming champ.  

Talking to the character is fun but you don’t get anything else, no new secrets or facts about them. Also after you become champion the game just starts you over. You start back at turn 0 and have to do it all again and unlock everything again. The game does let you keep 25% of your beypoints the first time you beat it and 100% of them the 4th time if I remember correctly.  

Overall: It’s a good game if you prefer talking to characters over battling and story. You can still have fun with the battling system since strange things can happen with beys getting shot out or just spinning out. And the wonky gyro system can cause you to shoot your bey right out the ring which makes for some laughs. It’s a very repetitive game which isn't a bad thing inself just depends on what you like. The Metal Masters game was way better with a decent storyline and fun battle mechanics which I’ll review at a later time, and this game just fails to compete with the other beyblade games.  Of course you are allowed to like the game. I enjoyed it a fair bit, and there are really good parts in it. I just think it has so much more room to be better.

Another notes: Some characters that are mentioned to be in the game I have not seen at all such as Nile, and Zero from Shogun. There is a battle area where you just battle for fun that's not a part of the story. I have only done it once though. You are allowed to have two save files on it.

If you want to see more of it you can look through my blog I have it tagged as I play beyblade  also again I do not have gameplay footage of it but if it’s something that is requested or wanted I don’t mind recording it 

[pinknerdpanda]

Quarantined

Word Count: 1,368

Characters: Bucky x Reader (kinda), Steve, Sam

Warnings: Fluff, Quarantine shopping, Petulant!Bucky, Bickering Sam and Bucky, Exasperated!Steve, language (obvi)

SSB Square Filled: “I’ve Knocked Out Adolf Hitler over 200 times.” (bolded below)

Requested by: @princessmisery666: “Drabble request - Steve, Sam and Bucky shopping for quarantine supplies!! Let the games (arguments) begin 😘.”

Beta: @shy-violet-soul - you are da bomb dot come, Vy. I loves you! 

A/N: I loved this request. I feel like we could all use a little levity given the current circumstances. This is the first time I’ve written Sam or Steve, and only my second time writing Bucky. I hope this makes you smile. Feedback is greatly appreciated! If you’d like to request a drabble (which will decidedly not be a drabble because, words) - see this post.

x

Quarantined

“Infiltrate, extract and then get the hell out of there.” Steve’s voice was stern as he continued. “Everyone clear?” 

The trio before him nodded solemnly, all of them feeling the dregs of weariness creeping in before the mission even began.

“Any questions?” 

Bucky squinted at a small scrap of paper clenched in one hand as he raised the other. Steve sighed, but nodded at his friend.

“What the hell is a ‘Clorox wipe’ and why do we need so goddamn many of them?” 

Sam choked on a laugh, earning him a terse glare from the former assassin. 

“What’s so funny, Big Bird?” Bucky grumbled.

Grinning, Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder, his palm stinging slightly from the contact with the metal. 

“Man, sometimes I forget just how damn old you are. But then you come in here with all that,” Sam waved a hand in front of a scowling Bucky and continued. “And it all comes rushing back.”

Steve groaned as Bucky launched into a diatribe of curses and insults aimed at Sam. Y/n shot Steve a sympathetic look before a particular string of four letter words made her clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling.

“Alright, enough. We don’t have time for this. I know this isn’t our usual job, but given the current situation, we don’t exactly have a choice. We are the ones imposing on y/n and she wasn't exactly prepared for us to be staying with her during a quarantine."

Their first reaction to the social distancing mandate had been fraught with eyerolls and grunts of protest. Yes, the serum made Bucky and Steve immune to the virus, but there was no way to know if they could still be carriers. And then there were Sam and y/n who did not have the benefit of super immunity. In the end, they'd all decided it would be best to comply if for no other reason than to be an example to the public. If Captain friggin America was doing his part to stop the spread of the disease, then everyone else should to. 

"We should pair off," Steve began. "Bucky - "

"I call dibs on y/n!" Bucky shouted, cutting him off. 

"Dibs? Really, Tin Man?" Sam groaned, exasperated.

"Yes, dibs. It's better than having to look at your ugly mugs for the next however-long-this-shit-takes. It's bad enough I have to be stuck in a house with a friggin pigeon -" Bucky jabbed a finger in Sam's direction before aiming it at Steve, “and Mr. ‘I’ve Knocked Out Adolf Hitler over 200 times’ until this thing blows over."

Sam and Steve opened their mouths to protest, but y/n cleared her throat, drawing the gaze of three pairs of guilty eyes.

“Alright, children. If you’re finished, can we please get this over with? Bucky, I’m overlooking the fact that you called ‘dibs’ on me like I’m some kind of possession, solely because I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let you and Sam pair up. You two are the actual worst when you’re together.” Y/n plucked the list from Bucky’s fist and a disinfectant wipe from the container beside the door before wiping down the cart and heading inside without sparing another look in his direction.

Bucky sighed. “I swear I’m gonna marry that girl some day.”

“Bold of you to assume she’s into geriatrics with scrambled brains,” Sam groused.

Bucky flipped him off, metal finger gleaming in the sunlight before hurrying inside after her.

-----

“This place is amazing!” Bucky marvelled, gazing up at the towering shelves and running his hand over a 50 pound bag of rice. “Whoa! Look at how huge this is!” 

Y/n looked up from her list just in time to see him dump a gallon of ketchup into the cart. 

“We do not need that much ketchup, Buck. We have a list. We need to stick to the list.” 

Bucky frowned, removing the ketchup and placing it back on the shelf. “You’re no fun, sweetheart.”

Ignoring his whining, y/n proceeded down the aisle in search of the next item on her list: peanut butter. As she perused the options before here, Bucky's attention was drawn to something else.

"Holy shit!" He exclaimed.

Y/n turned to find her companion gazing longingly at a five pound bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips. She sighed as he directed a pleading look at her. The man was the former Fist of Hydra; a goddamned ghost story until a few years prior. And here he was, in the middle of Sam's club silently begging her for chocolate like a three year old child.

She sighed again. "Go ahead." 

Bucky's eyes went wide with excitement as he scooped up two bags and all but flung them into the shopping cart.

"Bucky we do not need 10 pounds of chocolate chips. Put one of them back."

He frowned. "But y/n…"

Holding her hand up, she cut him off. "No buts, James Barnes. Put. One. Back."

Bucky regarded her for a second, his mouth puckered to one side as he chewed the inside of his cheek. She met his petulant stare with one of her own as an elderly couple maneuvered their cart around them. Bucky groaned, stomping his foot and snatching a bag from the cart and tossing it back on the shelf.

"Come on, you big baby. Let's get this over with," she chuckled, tipping her head toward the next aisle.

Falling in step behind her, Bucky grumbled under his breath. "I bet this place doesn't even have any plums."

-----

Thirty minutes and two full shopping carts later, the teams reconvened at the front of the store. Steve's usually tidy hair fell haphazardly over his forehead as though he'd been running his finger through it repeatedly. Sam crossed his arms smugly and leveled Bucky with a teasing glare.

"How'd you do old man?" Sam beamed. "You didn't forget the prunes, did you? You're looking like they could come in handy right about now."

Bucky ground his teeth together, only suppressing a searing reply because he felt y/n squeeze his arm in warning. He raked his gaze over Sam and Steve's cart and balked. 

"How come Sam gets a giant box of fruit snacks?" Bucky growls, starting at Steve accusingly.

Steve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes closed. "Dammit, Sam. I told you no fruit snacks."

Sam shrugged, unrepentant. Y/n grimaced, shaking her head sympathetically at the exasperated Captain.

"If Sam gets fruit snacks, I'm getting that gallon of ketchup." Bucky flung his arm behind him, vaguely gesturing toward the condiment aisle. 

Y/n jabbed a frustrated finger into his chest, lifting her chin to look him in the eyes, fury darkening her features. 

"You have no idea how tempting it is to leave you here." She emphasized each of her words with a corresponding jab to his pectorals.

Behind her Sam snickered and she whirled on him "You too, Bird Man. Look at what you've done to him." She pointed at Steve, his shoulders slumped and his face drawn.  "He's supposed to be your friend, you idjits. And now look at him!"

Sam looked at the floor and Bucky scuffed the toe of his boot against the worn tile beneath him.

"Apologize and then Steve and I are leaving you two to check out while we go get pizza and ice cream at the cafe. Frankly we deserve it for having to put up with you two today."

Steve perked up a little at her words. Sam and Bucky shared a look but y/n ignored it and tapped her foot impatiently.

The two men mumbled a half-hearted apology and y/n smiled, satisfied.

"Come on Cap," she tucked her arm in his and began leading him away. "My treat."

Sam and Bucky gaped at the pair's retreating backs. Bucky sighed.

"I think I'm in love, Sam."

Sam chuckled, gripping the handle of one cart as Bucky took the other. Taking their spot in line, the men stood in silence until Bucky cleared his throat.

"Sam?"

Sam hummed in response.

"She called us 'idjits'. What the hell does that mean?"

Like what you see? Want more? My SPN Masterlist is here, and MCU is here. Thanks for reading! :)

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[sweatersarecomfyy]

I Have Wings - Part 3/6 (Bucky x reader series)

Past Parts: Part 1, Part 2

Series Summary: During Bucky’s time as the Winter Soldier he wasn’t alone. A girl with wings was also the subject of super-soldier testing, unfortunately she never gets to tell Bucky how he feels during their time together. When they meet years later, she remembers him but he doesn’t remember her. Does she tell him what she remembers, or will that affect their growing feelings for each other?

Word Count: approx 1K

A/N: Part 3! If you have been reading this and like it, tell me what you think in the comments! This is a very good series, it’s full of fluff and angst, but it has a fluffy ending. I hope you enjoy it. If you would like to see the future chapters, please follow my blog or the tag #i have wings.

He doesn’t remember me, even now, all these years later. The words are gone from our minds, no one can control us anymore, but he still doesn’t remember me. I remember fighting against him. Steve ripped off his mask, and there he was, my James.

“Bucky?” Steve questioned.

“James!” I yelled.

He glanced back and forth between us, “Who the hell is Bucky?”

When they first brought him in to live in the compound with us, I stood off to the side. He glanced in my direction, I hoped it was a sign of recognition, so I gave a small wave, but he just walked by. He kept to himself for a bit, but eventually started socializing and talking with the other Avengers. He was even friendly with me. But he still didn’t remember me. Maybe it was for the best. Those memories were painful.

I was sitting at the kitchen bar one day, eating an afternoon ice cream when I heard a noise behind me and jumped. My feathers puffed up instinctively.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya,” It was James.

I felt the heat rise to my face and laughed, “Don’t worry about the wings, they kinda just do their own thing.”

He smiled. It was so amazing to see him smile. His eyes were sparkling even with the weight of his past behind them, and he laughed too. I almost cried I was so happy seeing him happy.

I smiled back.

“You want to share some of that ice cream?” He pointed at my carton.

“Not really,” I snickered. “But I’ll make an exception for you,” I whispered playfully.

He grabbed a spoon and sat next to me, digging in.

“This is good stuff. They did not have this way back when.”

I nodded, taking another spoonful.

He was silent for a moment, but then he turned to me sincerely, “Steve tells me that you knew me.”

I looked from him back down to the ice cream, watching it melt along the edges.

“And you said my name to me, you know, during the fight,” He leaned forward, trying to look me in the eyes, “Is that true.”

I nodded down at my ice cream.

“So you must have known me before Hydra, ‘cause you knew my name.”

I looked at him, and shook my head. I hadn’t divulged too many secrets of my past to the group. Fury knew enough to trust me, and the rest knew little enough to still be my friend.

He looked a little pained, like he was worried that he was somehow hurting my feelings, “I’m really sorry Angel.”

I smiled what I hoped looked like a sincere smile, “Do you remember everything from your time as the Soldier?”

“No,” He furrowed his brow, “A lot of it though. I remember a lot of the things I did and…” He sighed. “Well I’m learning to make peace with it.” He smiled sadly and stared into space. “Wish I did remember you though,” He gave me confident smirk.

I’m sure I blushed despite the somberness of this strange conversation.

It was silent for a moment as we each took a couple spoonfulls of ice cream each.

“James?”

“Yeah?”

I flapped my wings nervously, reveling in their freedom while remembering my captivity. “It might be best if you don’t remember me.”

He looked away sadly.

“But…” I continued, and his face looked hopeful “Can we, you know, try to be friends, and know each other now?” I asked, my heart beating.

His face broke into the widest smile I had ever seen, “I’d love that.”

I smiled back at him.

“So where do we start?” He said getting off the stool.

///

What followed was the best couple months of my life. When we weren’t training, we spent a lot of time together, not all our time, but quite an amount. I showed him my favorite shows, he had me listen to some of his music from way back when. He even taught me how to dance. It was easy to see that we had become the best of friends. It was comfortable, it was amazing. He was so happy, and after knowing him at his saddest point in life, I never wanted to see him sad again. I tried to stay away from my past in conversation as much as possible.

“Can I touch them?” He asked. We were sitting on the couch, watching some random movie we had picked out, but it wasn’t interesting either of us very much. He gestured to my wings.

At first, I didn’t know how to react. Usually people just touched my wings without permission, figuring that I wouldn’t be able to feel it. I nodded and faced away from him so that my wings were closer to him, I usually didn’t mind people touching them, after all,  having wings is a unique experience.

He set a soft hand on one of them and stroked downwards, his brow furrowed as he examined each and every feather, a small smile played at his lips.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head, “Nothin, it’s just,” He stroked down again, “How do you take care of them, is there extra stuff you have to do?”

I giggled, it was such an innocent question, “Yeah” I turned back toward him, and brought another part of my wing around so that I could reach it, “I do what other birds do.”

He smiled, “You’re not a bird.”

I shrugged my shoulders, laughing softly, “They have beaks, and they can preen their feathers with that. Basically, they just have to work the oil into their feathers, to waterproof them and keep them zipped and everything.”

“Zipped?” He questioned.

“Mmhmm” I nodded and found a feather that was looking a little scraggly, “When I brush up against things, or fly, or whatever, some of the barbs will come unhooked and I just have to get them back together.” I ran my fingers over the feather to show him how to zip it back up, “I can do it myself in a cinch, but Tony also made me a special tool, and Bruce made me some waterproof spray stuff in case I need to fly in a storm, ‘cause, you know, we’re crazy here.”

He laughed, “Can I try?” He asked.

“Sure,” I pointed out another feather he could try. No one had ever done that to me before, and it was a strange sensation, almost like when someone else brushes your hair, but in a nice way. A shiver went up my spine, and I guess he saw it.

He grimaced “Sorry,” He took his hand away.

“No, no, it’s not that,” I reached out and grabbed his hand again, “It’s just new, unexpected.” I looked down at the hand I was holding, it was the mechanical one.

He saw me looking at it and tried to draw it away again, but I held on.

“Hey,” I smiled at him, “You got to touch my wings.”

His smile was more subdued, “Yeah, but your wings are nice, and soft, and my arm is...

“Beautiful,” I finished for him as I examined it more closely.

His face immediately turned pink and he started stuttering out something.

“James,” He looked at me, and I laced my fingers through his metal ones, “My wings were used to the same purpose as your arm, and I know it is a bit different, but it is a part of you now, even if you don’t want it to be.”

He looked down and nodded.

“I think it is beautiful, I really do.”

“You do?” He was still looking down.

“Yeah.”

He looked up at me and smiled. That smile always made my heart race and my stomach to lurch like I was falling. I had been in love with him for so long, but I didn’t want to push it, even though I could feel he was falling for me too, “What was it like?” He asked suddenly

“What was what like?”

“Hydra, and before that, your past?”

I shook my head, “I don’t remember my past before Hydra.” My heart was immeasurably conflicted with wanting him to remember me, and everything that I had done, and wanting a fresh start with him. But I decided to stay silent on the matter, anxious that any outcome with him remembering who I was would result in our friendship breaking.

“Oh,” he replied simply, I could tell he wanted to ask more, but I turned away and continued to watch the movie, leaning my head on his shoulder.

He put his arm around me, and I kept holding his hand. He started to stroke the top of my wing gently. Again, I experienced something new, as he stroked my eyes grew heavy, I couldn’t fight it, and eventually my brain grew hazy and I felt my head slump onto his stomach as my body gave into sleep. I felt him chuckle softly right before I lost all consciousness.

[stylesluxx]

cold? chilling? freezing? (VI) – s.rogers

[warnings: fury getting shot but that’s it I think]

summary: in which y/n is an assassin turned lover | part five | part seven

word count: 1,758

masterlist

You didn't go straight back to the apartment after you visited the Smithsonian. You remembered it was your night to cook so you spent the afternoon in the grocery store.

You never had to cook until you lived with the super-soldier. You loved takeout but he complained about it after a week. Something about wanting a real home-cooked meal. He cooked for the first month before you ended up getting food poisoning because honestly, he's horrible at cooking. Then you tried to take over and come to find out you too were a horrible chef.

So, every Saturday night you and Steve went to cooking classes and tried to get a hang of it. You started to buy pots and pans and baking sheets. You wouldn't say you were Gordan Ramsey or anything but you were 10 times better of a cook than you were two years ago.

When you got back to the apartment, Steve had just opened the door to the building and smiled when he spotted you. He reached and held the door so it wouldn't close on you before shutting it softly behind you. You looked at the stairs in front of you and sighed before beginning the journey up.

"How was the rest of your afternoon, Captain?" You asked as he took the bags from your hands.

"It was... enlightening. I met with Sam, the guy from the park. He has a support group for veterans," Steve nodded thoughtfully.

"Maybe you should attend that as well. The missions might start to become a bit much after a while. And it'll help you adapt better," You suggested and looked up at him as we walked beside you.

"And what about you?"

"I, uh, Director Fury has already set me up with the therapist. Agent Romanoff recommended it and I respect her advice. We're more similar than I originally thought," You hesitantly spoke, not wanting to divulge too much. "Did you see Miss Carter today?"

"Yeah, I did."

"And how was that?"

"It was good. She thinks I put too much pressure on myself."

"I agree with her, one hundred percent."

"I feel like you've been attacking me ever since you walked in the building," He teased with a light smile on his face, making you laugh.

"Well, get your shit together Rogers," You smiled at him and walked up the last step.

You spotted the blonde woman opening her door and you turned back to give Steve a wink.

"Good evening," You greeted her with a smile and wave.

She was on the phone and had a laundry basket in her hand as she tried to open to door to her apartment. She gave you and Steve smiles before finishing up her phone call and turning to you and Steve.

"My aunt, she's kind of an insomniac," She waved her phone before tossing it in the basket.

It was silent for a moment before you decided to speak up and help Steve out.

"Hey, if you want, you're welcome to use our machine. Might be cheaper than the one in the basement and you won't have to walk up and down all those stairs," You suggested. "And while it dries you and my friend here can maybe go out for coffee."

Steve looked back at you wide-eyed and full of shock before turning back to the blonde with a chivalrous smile.

"Thank you, but I already have a load in downstairs, and uh you really don't want my scrubs in your machine. I just finished a rotation in the infectious disease ward, so..." She softly declined, making you scratch the back of your head awkwardly.

"Well, I'll keep my distance," Steve played off the rejection with a light chuckle.

"Hopefully, not too far," She said slyly before turning to walk downstairs. She quickly turned back around as you got the keys out of your backpack. "Oh, and I think you left your stereo on."

"Oh, thank you," Steve said and turned to look at you once she walked away. At that instant, you both heard the 40s music playing for the record player.

"First of all, it seems like she's kinda into you," You started as you stuck the key in the lock. "And secondly, I didn't leave the stereo on. Didn't even touch it."

"You stay here with the groceries. I'll come open the door when the coast is clear," Steve said and set the bags down beside you and quietly retreated down the steps.

Two years ago you would've walked in with the keys in between your knuckles. You don't know why you listened to Steve, he wasn't necessarily Captain right now and you weren't on a mission. But you listened to him. Your gut told you to listen and to trust him.

You waited for all about five minutes before the front door opened and Steve had his shield in his hand. You surveyed him for any injuries before letting the keys fall from your knuckles. You walked in and set the groceries down on the kitchen counter.

You followed him to the living room and leaned against the wall, your arms crossed over your chest.

"I don't remember giving you a key," You said to Fury as he sat comfortably in your favorite chair.

You liked to sit there during the day while reading a book. You get to see Steve as soon as he walks in and he sees you instantly as well. It was a nice way to start the afternoon.

"You really think I'd need one?" He asked, sitting up. "My wife kicked me out."

"Didn't know you were married," Steve spoke up.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me."

"I know, Nick. That's the problem."

Steve walked over and turned the overhead light on and we both got a good look at the man in front of us. He was bloodied and bruised, an unusual sight.

Fury put up a hand to still us and reached up and turned the lamp that was next to him off.

He typed in his phone before showing us. It read "EARS EVERYWHERE." I looked over at Steve before walking a few steps closer to him.

"I'm sorry I had to do this but I have no place else to crash."

Steve looked around the room, trying to spot anything out of place or abnormal.

Fury typed on his phone again before showing us a new message, "SHIELD COMPROMISED."

"Who else knows about your wife?" You asked and watched Fury stand up, holding his side.

"Just us three," He said and showed us the phone with the exactly same words. "My friends."

"Is that what we are?" Steve asked hostilely.

"That's up to you," Fury said before screaming in pain and buckling to his knees.

Steve dragged his body from the living room to the kitchen and you pulled out your gun from its place in your holster.

You heard Fury cough out "don't trust anyone" as soon as the front door was kicked down and revealed the blonde "nurse" with a gun in her hand.

"Captain Rogers? Agent Y/L/N? I'm Agent 13 of S.H.I.E.L.D. Special Service," She said calmly. "I was assigned to protect you."

You looked back at Steve and gave him a look before turning back to her.

"On whose order?" Steve asked.

"His," She said and got on her knees to check Fury's pulse.

Steve looked at her dumbfounded but you couldn't believe you were right about her.

She spoke into her walkie talkie and you turned to look in the direction the previous bullets came from.

"Tell him I'm in pursuit," Steve said. He walked backward to get a head start before running and jumping through two windows to chase the shooter.

Sharon gave you an address to where Fury would be taken. Some hospital in the middle of the city which made you look at her weird. Fury was way too private to be taken care of at a public facility but you went along with it.

You ran downstairs and to Steve's bike where you knew he'd meet you. You put the gun back and grabbed his helmet (though it was really yours because he never used it). You put it on and secured it as you saw him running to you.He got on the bike and you followed his lead, wrapping your arms around his waist. He wasted no time speeding off when you told him the address.

—

"Tell me about the shooter," You asked of Steve so you could distract yourself from your boss laying on the operation table.

"He's fast. Strong. Had a metal arm."

Maria Hill walked next to you and looked at Fury.

"Ballistics?" You questioned.

"Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable," She answered.

"Soviet-made."

"Yeah," She said shocked and looked over at you before turning back to the operation table.

You watched emotionless as the doctors and nurses tried to revive Fury but to no avail. Emotionless only because you weren't in the room by yourself. You didn't know Fury too well, no one did, but he (and Romanoff) helped you believe that therapy was a valid option and it was okay to go.

Steve was the first to walk out and then Agent Hill. You stood there for a moment to ensure you were completely alone before letting a small tear fall. You let it hit your Iron Man shirt before you wiped the wetness off your cheek and walked out of the room.

You spotted Steve not too far away and looked over at him. You walked over slowly and watched his eyes take you in, looking for any sign of distress. He found the wet spot on your shirt and gave you a sad smile.

"It'll be alright, Y/N," He assured you while looking right in your eyes, relaxing you.

You nodded, "I know, Captain."

"Cap, Y/L/N, they want you back at S.H.I.E.L.D.," You heard Agent Rumlow's voice disturb the moment.

"Yeah give us a second," Steve nodded.

"They want you now."

"Okay," Steve nodded again, this time with more force.

Rumlow walked off and you followed behind him while Steve stayed back. It seemed like he was having trouble with the vending machine but you ignored it and listened to the radios the S.T.R.I.K.E. team had. They wanted to question you and Steve.

The ride to headquarters was quiet. You rested your head on Steve's shoulder and his arm was wrapped around yours, holding onto you tight.

[AN: so this series is gonna be longer than I originally planned but not too much longer. and I’m super sorry this too so long to post, it was my birthday week so I was super busy. I think I’m putting this on hiatus; I don’t feel motivated to write it anymore]

[tags: @thisartemisnevermisses​ @thatoneperson5000​ @capstopavenger​]

[dearlazerbunny]

Lie to Me (Ch. 18 of 28)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 1500

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug, who fair warning are def laughing at everyone freaking out because they know exactly where the story is going

Requested Tags: @deraniel, @iamverity,  @yasnooshka24, @wegingerangelica, @themusingsofmany, @dark-night-sky-99, @tarynkauai, @stuffandstuff-stuff, @angelicshinigami, @my-current-fandom-is, @geekysimmerthings, @lokis-butter-knife

WARNING: Loki is M A D and thus HYDRA agents die sickly deaths

[[Bold+Italics = Y/N’s thoughts, Italics = Loki’s thoughts]]

Um. Loki?

Loki’s head snaps up, eyes blazing, fists curled in green magic. “I have her.”

“You have found her?” Thor demands. “How?”

“She is…” his voice breaks, words spiraling off into an abyss of bittersweet terror. “She is praying. To me.”

Thor’s eyes soften just for an instant, before his resolution returns in spades. “Then I believe you would do well to answer her, yes?”

Loki looks at his brother, standing by his side, matched in fury and determination. Ready to charge headfirst into battle for nothing but the sake of himself and yours. And he wonders how he has called himself intelligent for millennia while still being so oblivious to who he truly has had poised in his corner all this time. “Brace yourself,” he says, and puts a hand laced with green magic on Thor’s arm.

In a shimmer and haze they reappear in some sort of compound. Based on the chill emanating from the concrete walls, underground. Though he does not know their precise location, Loki can tell they have travelled hundreds of miles from where they began- how had they managed to move you so quickly?

He shakes his head. Questions for another time. Both warriors are silent as they take in their surroundings, noting the echoing of footsteps- a hallway, through the door to their right- and low chatter all around.

“This is the HYDRA they spoke of?” Thor’s voice is a low rumble; Mjolnir seems to crackle impatiently in his grasp.

“Yes.”

“Can you sense her?”

Loki reaches out through every means he has, trying to strengthen your thoughts in his mind. “Faintly. She has little time.”

“Time enough.” Without warning, he arcs Mjolnir into the ground below him, crumbling the floor to dust and landing on a lower level. The screams start scarcely before the rubble settles, and despite the circumstances, Loki spares a moment to roll his eyes. And they call him dramatic.

With Thor providing a sufficient distraction, he summons his daggers to him and slips through the nearest door, every footstep bring him closer to wherever you hide.

He comes upon his first opponent the next time he hears your voice. Do I need to, like, invoke your full name or something? Startled, he falters, and the lackey dressed in military gear almost lands a blow before Loki’s reflexes kick in and efficiently pin the man to the wall. He is dead in mere seconds, when green energy overwhelms him and seizes his heart. The body slumps to the floor, and Loki tries to regain his balance. He can still hear you. And that means you’re still alive. For now. Leave it to you to ponder the proper protocols of summoning a god whilst bleeding out in a corner somewhere. Something in his heart pangs. Keep talking to me, love. You can do it. I’m coming. By the stars, I’m coming.

Loki Laufeyson, son of Odin

When you speak his name, your connection grows stronger. He makes a hairpin turn down a corridor to his left, and bangs open a door so hard spiderweb cracks are left in the steel. It leads to a staircase

rightful king of Jotunheim

Steps are cleared ten at a time, each leap pushing him further underground

God of Mischief and Lies

When two stocky guards appear at the bottom of the steps, Loki doesn’t hesitate before putting a dagger through one’s throat, and smashing the other’s head into a concrete block, leaving a sickly trail of blood leaking from the back of his skull

Royal pain in my ass for the past year

Had any HYDRA personnel glanced at the god’s face in that moment, they would have seen a ruthless, wolffish grin overtake his features, his smile as sharp as the daggers aimed at their hearts

Um, hi. It’s me.

Loki huffs as he retrieves his weapons from yet another pair of unfortunate victims. As though it could be anyone else. As if anyone else could have worked their way into his head so quickly, wrapped their fingers around his heart so thoroughly, had their laugh running through his veins like morphine when the nights proved too dark for him to handle on his own

You’d laugh if you were here, trust me

“My sense of humor only goes so far, Witling,” he growls, “and at the moment you are severely pushing its boundaries.” His next target only has time to give him a confused glance before their eyes roll back into their head

So, I know you’re kinda in a cell

Once again, his smile turns dark, and he lets a little extra energy crackle and spiral up his arms, enjoying the feeling of pure power he’s been missing in his imprisonment. Not anymore. Would there be consequences waiting for him? Yes. But he’ll gladly take them and more if it means getting you out of here alive-

I mean, I’m gonna die either way

With a roar, he rips more pathetic beings out of his way and descends another level. You. Are. Not. Dying. Stop saying that.

Sorry, that was a joke. You know I like you better.

And I adore nothing in the world so much as you. Is that not strange?

More hallways that lead to dead ends, more rooms with no treasure to be had but the thrill of seeing the light leave another’s eyes

I don’t know if you can hear me

My love, I would wager all of Asgard that I could still hear your voice if I was frozen in the heart of Ginnungagap itself.

a prince is still a prince, no matter where he comes from

And with his shoulders steady, his aim quick and true, his feet lithe and dancing over the destruction that lay in his wake, Loki Laufeyson looks every inch a fearsome prince no one in the nine realms would dare deny

Thor loves you, even if you don’t believe it

Somewhere above him, thunder rumbles, and the building shakes with heaven-sent lightning. The telltale smell of ozone lingers in the air. Loki has seen enough battles to picture his brother now, glowing with energy as he searches for the next soul that stands in his way

try not to dagger him unless he really deserves it

A smile touches his lips. Ah, Witling. Always so forgiving.

So does Frigga

Frigga. Something low in his gut twists. All-Mother, may you hear her pleas as well as mine. Watch over us both.

Trust me, I know these things

Indeed you do, darling. Somehow you seem to know more of the world than I ever shall, and you have only seen a pinprick of what it has to offer. The thought makes him angry, makes him curl his fists harder and slam it into someone’s jaw even more ruthlessly. I will show you the cosmos, my love. I swear it.

You’re close now, he can tell, because your anguish is starting to feel like a tangible thing he could reach out and rip from the air. Your pain becomes his, his terror becomes yours. He isn’t sure if the blood lingering on his tongue is yours, his, or a mingling of both

You aren’t anything like I expected

A smirk quirks his features. I have never, ever been what they expected. I have always been far more.

Closer, closer. He is closer but your voice grows dimmer, further away. He abandons stealth for an all out run, recklessly wrenching open doors as he passes in desperate hope that you might lie behind them

but I’m glad you’re not

You’d be the first.

I don’t think I’d love you nearly as much if you were

I don’t think I’d love you

love you

An unassuming hatch cracked the slightest bit open gets ripped off its hinges so forcefully it is thrown down the hall. Light floods the abandoned space, highlighting old equipment and stray bullet casings

and you.

You, curled up in the corner, clutching an old weapon to your chest like the cold metal might keep your heart from stopping. From here, he can see jagged edges of bone, glowing white against pale skin. Your hair sticks to your scalp in a mess of blood, and drops of it trickle down your cheek, marring your face. What isn’t white is red, and what isn’t red is black and purple and blue.

Keep yourself out of trouble, Trickster. For me.

“Never,” he breathes. It is trouble that led me to you, darling, and for that I shall consecrate myself at its feet for the rest of my days.

Your eyes open, blearily, his whispered words having stirred something inside you. Though you look right at him, your gaze goes through him, seeing nothing but a shadow haloed in green light. Some minuscule part of your brain wakes up enough to say point, aim, trigger

You manage to fire off three shots before everything in you goes slack.

Some notes:

- So @christ-on-a-fucking-stick-tm decided to go and WRITE ME A FUCKIN FICLET and it’s amazing and go read it: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20631224/chapters/48990377. In honor of their utter perfection, have a chapter <3

- Ginnungagap = “gaping abyss”. It’s basically the primordial void of Norse mythos.

- Spot the Shakespeare quote! ‘Tis one of my favorite quotes, and I feel like Loki would have a (grudging) respect for the Bard.

[controloffandoms]

Heart Breakers (P.P./S.M.)

Prompt: I’m still on my Endgame fics….But this one is with a twist. Your soulmate feels everything you do, emotions, pain, etc. 

Pairing: Spiderman x Stark!reader

Words: 4528

Warnings: Major character deaths, Endgame spoilers (kinda), violence, depressed reader

Notes: In this, after the characters turn to ash, they continue to age so that they come out as they would have already been five years later.

Seven Years Ago

You trailed after the spider boy. Your father was currently dealing with another problem. The ‘Spider Man’ was fighting a man who called himself ‘The Vulture’. You winced as you saw the ship split in two. You hurried over, grabbing the ship and pulling to keep it together. Peter was still a whiles away from the ship. “Any time now, Parker,” you muttered. 

Once he swung into the ship and began to hold it together, you worked on melting the metal back together. You groaned slightly as your arms twinged in pain, but brushed it off as you holding the boat together as long as you did. Once the ship was relatively back together, you and Parker got back to the city. “Seriously, why have you been following me around all day? It doesn’t mean anything unless you’re actually in that suit, Mr. Stark.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your helmet fold down into the suit. “Dad told me to make sure you were okay while he was gone. That’s what I’m doing. And, if you didn’t notice, I kept that ship together long enough for you to get there and hold it together while I welded it back together. If I hadn’t been there, that ship would have gone down.”

Peter just looked at you before he rolled his eyes. “I don’t need a watchdog.”

“I never said I was a watchdog. I’m simply here for when you need help. I’m not going to involve myself in every single thing you do. Most people would be happy to have me watching their back,” you rolled your eyes with a sigh. 

Peter shook his head. “I don’t need your help. I’m doing fin-”

The wind was knocked out of you at the same time Peter was hit dead on by vulture. It took you a second to regain your breath, another second to process that you hadn’t been hit, and another second to go chasing after the Vulture. “Hey, birdbrain!” You knocked him off Peter, grabbing Peter’s arm so he wouldn’t fall. 

You set Peter on a roof top to allow him to do his thing. You continued after Vulture. You lost sight of him and slowed your flying down to be able to properly look for him. A yell from your left caught you off guard. The Vulture pounced on you, causing you to freefall, hitting the ground with enough force to jar your head. You groaned as the Vulture’s claws found a weaker part in the arm piece. It was beginning to cut into your skin. You raised your other arm, blasting him off of you.

Peter was behind the Vulture, attacking him. You took a second to get a breath and got up. You rushed Vulture, kicking him into the side of a building. With both you and Peter working together, you were able to subdue the Vulture. You put in a call to Fury to have him pick up the man that Peter had webbed up snugly to a light post. “Are you alright,” Peter asked, motioning to your arm. You could see the blood slowly seeping out from the broken metal. 

“This is going to be a bitch to get off, but I’ll be fine. Hazard of the job.” You wanted to ask if he felt it too, but you didn’t want to be too hopeful. “Are you alright? Vulture plowed into you at full speed earlier.”

“I heal pretty quickly.”

You nodded. You sighed before letting the helmet down again. “Would you like to come back to the tower with me? I think we both need to talk.”

__________________

Five Years Ago

You watched as the metal wheel thing descended from the sky. “What the hell is that,” you asked your dad. 

“I don’t know.” You both raced off towards it. 

You let the suit disassemble into the jewelry you wore as your father talked with Bruce and some wizard guy you didn’t know. You felt a sense of calm envelop you and smiled slightly, knowing it was Peter sending it to you. You had no doubt that he’d seen the alien ship and would be on his way. 

You stepped closer to the ship...it was interesting tech from what you could see. You didn’t see the alien that stepped out of the ship, nor did you hear his voice...you were too interested in the alien tech. You realized your mistake too late, grunting at the impact of the wall. You got up, glaring at the one that had hit you. “That was rude.” You let your suit form around you again, “let me return the favor.” 

You blasted the alien’s ass to kingdom come. “Jackass,” you muttered as you landed beside your father and the others. The helmet retracted and you glared at the alien in front of you. “Are you going to be a jackass as well? I’ll happily kick your ass if that’s the case.” 

You don’t know how long you and the others had been fighting the aliens from the metal wheel, but suddenly it was taking off and you couldn’t breathe. You clasped a hand to your throat, collapsing to your knees. Bruce was by your side in seconds trying to talk to you, but you couldn’t hear him over your panic. Peter couldn’t breathe. Peter couldn’t breathe. Peter couldn’t breathe.

Then, Peter could breathe. You could breathe again. “He’s lucky I made a suit for him,” your father called through the coms.

“Sorry about that, Love,” Peter stated. 

“It’s okay. I’ll head up to the ship and-”

“No, I’ve already got one teenager to look after, I don’t want to be worried about you. Stay with Bruce.” 

“Dad-”

“I need you down there because I know you can make the tech they need. I need you to trust me.”

“And we’ll be back before you know it, (Y/N/N),” Peter added. 

You sighed. “Stay safe, both of you. And I love you both,” it felt awkward to say it, but you didn’t know when you’d see them again...or if you’d see them again.

“I love you,” Peter immediately responded.

“I love you too, kid,” your father added.

__________________

You watched Thanos’ forces hitting the barrier around Wakanda. You’d already given all the tech you’d made out to its rightful owners. It was now about time for the battle. You looked at the person who was gripping your arm. Steve Rogers, one of your dad’s best friends. “You alright, (Y/N)?” 

“Thanos’ army is trying to find ways into Wakanda, we’re about to go through the fight of our lives, I have no idea where Peter and my father are, and no idea where Thanos is. Not to mention that Vision wants us to kill him if we can’t get the mind stone out of his head in time to protect it.” You let out a shaky breath, “I’m just peachy.”

“We’re not going to let him win easily.”

You nodded. “Rig-ugh,” you clutch your stomach. “I think Peter found Thanos,” you mumbled. You were finally able to get a full breath in. You stood back up, rubbing a hand over your sore stomach. “I hope everyone here that has soulmates that aren’t heroes are happy about the fact. Because it really fucking sucks sometimes,” you stated as your head began to pound. 

Steve’s hand clutched your shoulder in sympathy. “If you need to, you can go watch Shuri and Vision to ensure their safety and we’ll deal with the army.”

You shook your head. “No, I can do this.”

With that, the games begin. You had never seen so many adversaries in one place. You took to the skies, taking the alien creatures down one by one. You and Sam tag teamed a group of the aliens before getting separated again. “Watch your back, Stark,” T’challa called. You turned in time to deflect the alien. 

That left you open from the front, and you went tumbling down. The impact with the added weight of the alien caused the metal around your abdomen to crush inward, causing you to bite back a scream. You blasted the alien, instantly killing him. You were thrown back into the trees from another attack. Then you were pushed further back into a clearing. 

You moved in time to miss the next attack. With a couple of well placed blasts, you took care of the alien. “Everyone alright,” Cap asked those that were gathered in the clearing by this point. 

Mumbles of ‘yeahs’ and ‘mostly’ went up through the group. You all turned to the portal that opened, letting Thanos through. You didn’t pay attention to what was said. You had to take him down before he could get to Vision. He couldn’t get the last stone. 

Pushing the pain away, you charged Thanos from the back, picking the titan up before unibeaming him back into the Earth. As you went in for another hit, Thanos grabbed your boot, throwing you into the ground multiple times before pulling you to face him. “So you’re Stark’s daughter. He kept telling me that no matter if I defeated him, you would defeat me. I don’t see how you could.” 

He ripped away at your suit. “You are nothing more than a human in a power suit.” He used a piece of your suit as a sword, burying it deep within you abdomen. You couldn’t control the scream that ripped from your throat at the pain that followed it. Thanos threw you to the side, no longer worried about you. 

You must have blacked out for a little while because when you woke up, Vision was dead, his mind stone on the Infinity Gauntlet. Thanos was talking to Thor who’s ax was protruding from Thanos’ chest. “You should...you...you should have gone for the head,” it was like it was all in slow motion as Thanos snapped his fingers.

It was the most unimaginable pain you’d ever felt. You could tell Peter’s ‘spidey sense’ was picking up that he was going to die. It was agonizing. During this time, you had pulled yourself into a sitting position, clutching the piece of metal stuck in your body. You couldn’t hear anything, all you could focus on was Peter and how he was dying. 

It was like the whole world just stopped. Tears were flowing down your face and your mouth was open, but you couldn’t tell if you were screaming or not...your hearing hadn’t come back to you yet. You gripped the metal in your body tighter, pulling it from your abdomen. You stood, determined. Peter was dead, and it was Thanos’ fault. 

The world came back to you almost as quickly as it had left. Thor was screaming at Thanos...it was a good distraction. “He’s dead because of you,” you shouted, jumping and shoving the metal through Thanos’ neck. He sputtered, looking at you with wider eyes. You shoved the metal even further in. You couldn’t stop him as he closed his fist and teleported away, but that didn’t stop you from trying. 

Thor pulled you away once he realized what was going to happen. He didn’t want you to teleport with him, you were hurt. You fought against him, even when Thanos was gone. Finally, you collapsed on yourself, sobs leaving your broken body. “Peter’s dead,” you kept muttering over and over. 

_________________

Present Day

Since Peter’s death, you’d distanced yourself from everyone. There was a time where you had hope that you would all figure out how to bring everyone back, but that had long since passed. Every day you woke up, thinking Peter would be making breakfast or would run through the door and apologize for being away for so long. Your mood would only darken from there. Most days you didn’t leave the bed.

You got up slowly and cleaned up a bit. After a shower, you pushed yourself to get something to eat. You don’t think you’ve eaten in three days and you knew that Peter would want you to take care of yourself. As you finished the meager breakfast you’d made, you were going to go back to your room but someone knocked at your door. You thought about ignoring it, but with the persistent knocking, you knew they wouldn’t leave any time soon.

You opened the door, not bothering to look up at the person standing in the doorway. You turned and walked back into the apartment. “Kid, you can’t live like this.”

You rolled your eyes, deciding to clean the dishes in the sink while your father walked around the apartment. “You have a family. You have a-” you cleared your throat, willing the tears away, “you have a soulmate. You don’t get to judge my life since you don’t know what it’s like losing the person you’re meant to be with.” Your voice cracked a lot from not being used and probably from some of the emotions you were feeling.

“I know I can’t relate to that, but you have to take care of yourself. Peter’s not going to want to see you withered away when we bring him back.” The plate you had been holding clattered into the sink, breaking. Your back was tense. “We came up with a plan...but we need your help. You know tech better than I do sometimes. I need your help to build a machine to help us get our friends and family back.”

You took a deep breath, willing your heart not to hope. If this wasn’t true, you couldn’t be hurt again. “Don’t play on my emotions like that,” you ground out. 

“We’re not. We think we can at least get everyone that turned to ash back, (Y/N),” you hadn’t seen Steve come in. 

You finally looked at the small group that stood in your apartment. Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, and your father, Tony Stark. Their faces were a mix of hope and determination. You bit your lip, shaking your head. “What do you need me to build?”

_________________

You took a deep breath, messing one last time with the wires to make sure everything was correct. You didn’t want to end up doing damage to anyone that tested the machine. You’d run the calculations hundreds of times, went over the wiring even more, and you were still a nervous mess. “Okay...this is as ready as it’s ever going to be.” 

Tony came over to you, pulling you into a hug. “It’s going to work. You built it. I have all the faith in the world in you...so have faith in yourself.” 

You nodded. After Peter had died, all your Stark charm was gone. You just couldn’t find it in yourself to care about anything. How could you go on with your old life without Peter being there? You dipped into that Stark charm to put on a brave face. You were going to get everyone back. “Alright. Two minutes and I’m pulling you back.” 

“See you when we get back,” Steve stated to everyone as he took his place. 

You sent them through, worry eating at your insides. This plan was crazy. As the two minutes ended, you hit a couple of buttons on the machine, sighing as you saw everyone start to reemerge. You did a head count, eyes narrowing as you saw one was missing. “Where’s Nat, did I lose her,” you asked, trying again and again to get her signal on the machine, but getting nothing.

Clint just shook his head. “Sacrificed herself for the Soul stone.”

It was silent as everyone took in the information. “Then we need to make damn sure we get everyone else back. She didn’t die for us to fail,” you stated. “Bruce, you’re going to wield the gauntlet. With the Hulk on your side, you should be able to survive if you snap.” You started to ramble on about the logistics and calculations you had done to ensure that he was the only one who could snap and survive, but a hand on your shoulder had you close your mouth. 

“I understand the logic, (Y/N). I’ll do it.” You handed him a gauntlet, nodding to the others to put the stones in the gauntlet. “Alright, let’s get everyone back.”

You walked over to your dad...you really hoped this worked. If it did...Peter would come back to you. He placed an arm over your shoulders before pressing a bracelet into your hand. You looked down, noticing the colors of your suit. You slipped the bracelet on and warily watched Bruce as he used the power of the gauntlet. 

Did it work? You suited up as you saw Bruce go down, grabbing the gauntlet and pulling it from his hand. You dropped it almost immediately as the power started to flow through you, weakening you. You dropped down the Bruce as Steve asked him if he was alright. He asked if it worked. “I-I think so.”

The next few moments were filled with confusion and you weren’t clear on exactly what happened. You winced as you stood up. The suit had retracted back into the bracelet. You coughed, placing your hand on the wall as the dust started to settle. What the hell happened? 

You made your way towards the light of the outside world. You winced, trying to get your eyes to adjust. Once they did, you zoned in on Thanos. He beat down your father, Steve, and Thor easily. Oh he was yours. The suit formed around you and you took off, aiming directly for Thanos and hitting your mark, making you both fly several yards in the direction you were going. 

You placed both hands on either side of his head and blasted your repulsors, rendering him momentarily out of commission as he couldn’t see or hear. You brought your metallic fist down on his face, over and over for how much pain he had caused you over the past five years. Just as your fist was going to meet his face again, his hand shot up and grabbed it. 

He threw you around like it was nothing, putting dents in your armor. He even started to tear parts of it away before Thor was on him again. Some time in the fight with Thanos, you’d lost your helmet and part of your torso armor. You took a few deep breaths as you took stock of the situation. Thanos’ army was pouring from the sky, Thanos was occupied with getting the infinity stones, and everyone besides Thor was fighting the army.

As Thor was thrown away from Thanos and bombarded by the alien army, you went for Thanos again. You wouldn’t let him win again. You were so focused on Thanos that you didn’t even notice the orange circles in the distance that let more warriors through to fight the army. “You honestly think you can defeat me. That’s laughable. I am the most powerful being in the universe, you are nothing but an ant beneath my feet.”

“I never said that I was the one that would defeat you. I’m just one of those ‘ants’ that will lead to your downfall.” You gave it everything you had, landing quite a few good hits. Thanos, on the other hand, landed a lot more punches than you did. 

Blood dripped down from a couple of head lacerations you had acquired. You wouldn’t give up though. You began to push yourself up again but Thanos put his foot on your already crushed chest plate and raised his sword. “I’ll admit you gave me a good workout. But I’m through with your games.” As he brought the sword down, it was intercepted by Sam Wilson.

You stared at Sam as he pushed Thanos away from you. “You-You’re back.”

“Damn right I am,” he responded before taking off again. It took a second to sink in. If Sam was back, then so was Peter. 

When you came back to your senses, you could feel his worry through the soul bond. He was worried for you. At your sudden spike of happiness, you could feel his confusion. Your Peter was back. You got up, looking around you. You didn’t see Thanos, you didn’t see Peter, but you knew he was there. 

You sent all your love through the bond as you got back into the battle, taking down alien after alien with renewed vigor. 

Finally you spotted Peter. You landed in front of him, blasting the aliens that surrounded him to pieces. Not seeing anymore aliens coming towards you, you turned to Peter. You were lost for words. He looked older than the last time you’d seen him. It was like he had aged while he’d been dusted. “It worked,” you whispered, reaching out to place a hesitant hand on his cheek.

He nuzzled into your hand, eyes closing in content. Your other hand went to his other cheek and you brought him into a bruising kiss. You didn’t realize that you’d started crying until Peter’s thumbs were wiping them away after you’d separated. “I missed you so much,” you cried.

Feeling your pain through the bond, he hugged you tighter, placing gentle kisses across your face. “I’m so sorry. I am so sorry I left you. It won’t ever happen again.” He placed a kiss on your lips again. “I love you.”

“I love you so much more,” you responded. 

At the sound of aliens being fought off near the both of you, you both broke out of your haze. “I’m glad you two have reunited, but can the rest of your makeout session wait until we’ve taken care of Thanos and his army,” Steve asked. 

You and Peter looked at each other, giving a quick kiss and getting back to the battle at hand.

__________________

You don’t know what caught your attention first: Thanos or your father. Everything was in slow motion as you raced to get to your father. He wouldn’t be able to wield the stones and survive. “And I. Am. Iron Man,” he snaps his fingers and the army starts to turn to dust. 

Seconds later, you land next to him, panicking. “Dad-why did you-why did you do that? We could have...please don’t go,” you cried, hands shaking as Tony took them. 

“It’s okay. I-I know you can make it. You and-You and Morgan are my greatest legacy, I know you’ll teach her everything she needs to know.” You couldn’t stop the tears, body shaking. “I love you, Squeaky.”

You buried your face in his neck. “I love you, Iron Dad.”

Peter was now by your side, and he didn’t look much better than you. You couldn’t pay attention to what they were saying to each other. The feeling in your chest nearly knocked the breath out of your body. You held your father’s hand until you could see his chest stop moving. 

Your hands shook as you released the hand you’d been holding. You needed something to break. You needed something to take your mind off of the fact that your father was dead. You needed to hurt so you could forget what the pain in your chest feels like. It was a pain you’d been living with for the past five years, you couldn’t handle feeling it a second longer. 

You ignored the people that reached out for you as you flew back to the trashed Avenger’s compound. It wasn’t long before you were doing enough damage that it could easily be seen from where the group was surrounding Tony. It didn’t take a person with super hearing to hear your screams as you continued to demolish the already crumbling building with your suit. 

From the expression on Peter’s face, the group knew he was feeling all of the pain you were. Steve placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. As the damage started to die down, they thought you would come out. When you didn’t, they looked to Peter for an explanation. 

Peter rubbed his hands that were starting to sting. He decided to stop you before you seriously hurt yourself. He webbed himself to the compound and quickly found you. Your suit had run out of power, and now you were using your bare hands to let all the emotions out. 

Peter gripped your hands in his before you could go back to hitting the wall. You struggled against him, trying to get free. He brought you into his embrace as you fought it, hitting his chest. Slowly, you started to settle down, sobbing into Peter’s chest. His own tears fell with the combination of what you were feeling along with his own pain at watching the father figure he’d come to love die after just reuniting with him.

“We’ll get through this together. Don’t shut me out.” He held you tighter as you did the same.

_________________

Ten Months Later

You sent a text to Peter telling him to finally bring the surviving Avengers and their families to your secret project. You had been working this since your father’s funeral. You made sure you had all of the snacks and drinks out...it was the grand opening of the new Avenger’s compound and you couldn’t have a grand opening without snacks and drinks.

You quickly walked outside, seeing the cover still over the monument and smiling slightly. You hoped everyone liked it. You had taken it from a photo that the group had taken before Thanos was ever a problem for anyone. You’d even gotten a picture of Loki from Thor after hearing what Loki did for him. 

You watched as the cars started to pull in. You smirked at their wowed expressions...they hadn’t even seen the best part yet. Peter walked over to you, pressing a kiss to your head. You gave Morgan a hug as she walked over to you excitedly. “I would like to introduce you to the Avengers Memorial Headquarters. I figured we all needed a place we could come to talk, train, debrief, et cetera.”

You felt you suit spread across your body. “I would also like to introduce our Memorial...for all the brave and heroic things they did for us and the world.” You pulled the cover off from the top of the statue. Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, and Loki all stared back at the group. 

You landed next to Peter, the suit retracting. You leaned into his embrace as those assembled walked closer to the memorial. “This is amazing, (Y/N),” Pepper stated. 

“Thank you, Lady (Y/N),” Thor gave you a bone crushing hug. 

You laughed lightly. “I know nothing can top that reveal, but I have a whole facility to show you guys. There are also some light snacks and refreshments set up.”

It still hurt to think of the people you’d lost because of Thanos...but it was becoming easier to cope with. Everything you were to do in the future, you did because of them...and you weren’t going to let their sacrifices be in vain.

Forever Tags

@miraclesoflove @way-ward-whale @avengersss-assembleee @nocturnalherb16

[takadasaiko]

Second Chances: Chapter Two

FFN II AO3

Summary: Steve has every intention of returning the Infinity Stones to their correct place in the timeline and heading back to his own. His problems start when he makes an impulse decision to jump over to 1946 and Peggy decides to go back home with him. It only gets more complicated from there when Howard tags along with them to 2023. Tony lives fix-it fic. Pepperony.

Chapter Summary: Steve's trip does not go as planned for anyone involved.

Notes: This chapter has major spoilers for Agent Carter S1, but on the flip side if you haven't seen the show (which you should! It's amazing!) you shouldn't have too much trouble following. Any relevant plot points are mentioned.

Chapter Two

He didn't have to be there. He hadn't been involved with the original mission and there were plenty of people that could report back how the whole thing went once it was done, but even if Mr Stark and Ms Potts - Mrs Stark? Pepper? He still wasn't sure - were just trying to distract him while they worked through the long line of doctors that would want to see Mr Stark today Peter wasn't going to say no. It was time travel. Actual freakin' time travel.

"You okay there, Queens?"

Peter looked over, Captain America's voice cutting through his thoughts. "Oh yeah. Definitely! So, catch me up. What happens if you see yourself? Do you break all of time and space?"

"This isn't Doctor Who."

Peter looked over and his eyes widened. "Wow. You don't look the same in person as you do in TV. Mr Hulk. Sir. Dr Banner? I, uh…. did you always wear glasses?"

Captain Rogers and the Hulk exchanges looks that Peter hoped were amused more than irritated. The blond man shook his head and moved over to talk with the man with the metal arm. Huh. Guess he was on their side now? What all had he missed in five years time?

"Tony says you create your own webbing in the lab," Dr Banner prompted, drawing Peter's attention back over to him.

"Yeah. Yes. I do."

"I can give you a quick run through the system that we have while Cap gets ready if you want."

"Really?" the teen all but squeaked as he bounced over to the control board.

"And Bruce is fine," the older man said kindly, offering a small wink. "You're one of us, right?"

"Yeah. It's official and everything. Well, sort of? I guess. Mr Stark made me an Avenger when I showed away in the space ship."

"I bet that went over well."

"No, not really. He was pretty pissed." His gaze drifted over the mechanics. "He's, uh….. going to be okay, right?"

"Tony?" Peter nodded and Bruce purses his lips. "He's ... got a long way to go. My body absorbs gamma radiation better than any other person I've come across and it still did a number on me." He motioned to his arm still fitted in a sling. "That much radiation should have killed him. There's still a chance he'll lose his arm."

"But he'll get better?"

"He's stubborn. I wouldn't bet against him. From what he's told me he should have been dead multiple times over."

"You ready for me?" Cap asked as he stepped up into the single platform, a case in hand and a white suit replacing his uniform.

"You have enough for each of the six jumps, the return home, and you got two extra in case something goes wrong, didn't you?"

"I did. After last time, better safe than sorry."

"No kidding."

"What happened last time?" Peter asked and Bruce looked a little sheepish.

"My past self gave Tony a concussion and they had to improvise." He moved to set the coordinates. "Ready when you are." He waited for the nod. "Alright. See you in ten seconds."

"Be right back," the blond answered, and in a flash of light he was gone.

                                                _____________

Steve has told Director Fury once that after what he had been through, nothing would surprise him. He'd lost ten bucks to him that day and had learned a valuable lesson: things could and would always get stranger and more fantastical than he could dream up. Returning the Space, Mind, and Time stones were easy enough. The Power Stone's hiding place left him with a reminder of just how small he was in the grand scheme of the universe, but returning the Reality Stone left him in awe….. and almost an Asgardian prison. He had left the Soul Stone for last, hoping against hope that maybe it would give back the soul that had been sacrificed and he could use one of those extra Pym Particles to bring Natasha home. Natasha didn't come back, though, and as if to add insult to injury he found himself having to follow a man he had lost everything trying to defeat.

And then it was done, and Captain America was left to his own thoughts. The pain of a lost friend and the sacrificed could-have-beens crash into him and he made a choice. 2023 could wait.

He flipped the dial back and felt the wave wash over him, pulling him through to the other side. It left him standing on a familiar street, Manhattan bustling all around, and a horn honked at him. "Hey, buddy! Outta the street!"

Steve sidestepped, the car only barely missing him, and he stepped back onto the sidewalk. "Hey, mister, whatcha wearing?"

He looked down, and a little boy with freckles covering more of his face than not stared up through coke bottle glasses. He was tiny, thin, and somehow a more familiar sight than any person had been since he'd woken up from the ice. "A costume," he managed.

"Like Captain America?"

"Yeah. Kinda like that."

The kid moved on and Steve turned towards the newspaper stand at the corner. A familiar face stared back from the front page, all charm and suave and Steve couldn't help the way his lips twitched upward as he read the headline: Howard Stark Cleared Of All Charges Fights to Have His Inventions Returned.

"What have you gotten yourself into this time, Howard?" he murmured, catching a few lingering looks from passersbyers. First thing was first. He needed to blend in. Once he did that he would find Howard, and Howard would help him find Peggy. He owed her a dance, and after everything that had happened, he couldn't bring himself to turn away now.

                                               _____________

When his weapons had first been stolen from his home vault Howard had sat through three days of mind-breaking congressional testimonies. Now that it was over and Peggy had helped proved his innocence, the inventor found himself right back to square one, but this time instead of trying to prove that he didn't sell weapons to communists, he was there to argue that the government didn't get to keep them after all was said and done. He groaned to himself and downed his last gulp of water. As the senator drolling on and on, he set the glass down hard enough to stop the man mid-sentence. "As riveting as this has all been, I do have plans tonight."

"Then you're conceding ownership to the US government?"

Howard snorted. "Oh no. I've played nice, Mr Senator. Given you your say and then some, but you can talk to my lawyers. Trust me, my inventions'll be out of your hands by the time I get back to California." With that he stood, straightened his suit jacket, and flashed the balding man a shiteating grin and a wink before swanning out with the stuffy old men shouting at him from behind. Let them shout themselves hoarse. It'd do the country some good, and he had a date. Lola. Lena. Lizzie? He'd remember by the time he got there. If not, Jarvis could remind him.

He breezed through the hallway and out the front door, his steps light as he started down the broad stairs in front of the building. Lorain. That was it. Lorain McKenna.

"Howard."

The voice stopped him dead in his tracks halfway down and he spun towards it. A man stood at the bottom. He was tall, broad, and handsome, even with his face half covered by the cap he wore. Dark brown eyes traveled the figure up and down. He knew that voice. He would have known it anywhere. It just wasn't possible. "Steve?"

Blue eyes met his and there was a very small smile playing at the younger man's lips. "Hi, Howard."

"Holy….. how?" He was moving forward, taking two steps at a time until he nearly tripped over himself. "You're here. You're alive. I knew you were. I've been looking. I've been-"

"Can we get out of the open?"

The inventor glanced around. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course. I know just the place."

                                               _____________

Howard had a driver waiting to pick him up that he called Jarvis. Steve tried not to stare at the man that was obviously Tony's first inspiration for the AI that had been woven into Vision. Likewise, though, he found Jarvis doing plenty of staring of his own, and he heard the British man demand to know if Howard had "mentioned this to Ms Carter yet."

"Where do you think we're going?" Howard popped off and gave Jarvis instructions to drive to the airport before turning to fix his clever gaze on Steve. "So you've gotta have one hell of a story."

"It's…. been a doozie," Steve murmured. "Where is Peggy?"

"New York. Working for the SSR."

Steve tilted his head a little. "What's that?"

"Spycraft. Our girl's still got it. You know she just cleared my name when they'd have hanged me like a traitor? Peg believed in me."

Jarvis made a whiny, noncommittal sound from the driver's seat and Howard shot him a glare. "Says the man who was gonna shoot me outta the sky. Wanna talk about having some faith, Jarvis?"

"No, sir. I'd rather not if it's all the same to you."

Steve chuckled. "Sounds like you've had some adventures of your own."

And that's all it took to send Howard into a full debrief of all of the shenanigans they'd been up to since the war ended. Peggy's time with the SSR, his countless rounds of fondue that made Steve wonder if Tony had any siblings running around out there that he just didn't know about, and right up to the most recent chaos that included a Russian psychiatrist and a leathally trained blonde that had brainwashed Howard to the point that he'd nearly doused Manhattan with a toxic drug that would have killed them all in a truly brutal manner.

He spent the car ride out to the airstrip and the short plane ride from DC to New York City reliving it all. Laughter, tears, and a black eye that Peggy had given him at one point, though he was less willing to explain what had prompted that.

At the end of it they stood outside of a beautiful mansion in New York and Steve turned a questioning look on his friend. Surely he would have known if Howard and Peggy….. anyway, Peggy would never….. right?

"I can see your brain misfiring, my friend. Don't worry. I've never been her type. She's pretty particular," Howard added with a suggestive smirk.

Steve swallowed hard. "We should have called ahead."

"Yeah? And how would that have gone? Hey, Peg, found your man. I'll have him to you in a jif."

The blond snorted a chuckle at that. "Guess so." He could almost feel Howard side eyeing him as they made their way up to the door. "What?"

"I get I'm not the one you want to spill all your secrets to, but Peggy's has it rough since you went down. You should tell her. Whatever it is."

It was such a switch from the teasing tone Howard had been speaking in that it felt not unlike getting socked in the gut and it focused Steve. He would have to tell Peggy… something. It's not like he could just show up, have their dance, and go home. What was he doing? Upending everything. That's what. Peggy would have a husband. A family. She might not have them yet, but she would and really, what were his options? Ruining all of that or saying goodbye all over again. He could stay, even if he didn't care about potentially fracturing the timeline, but he'd promised Tony he'd come back. Strange as it was, after all they'd been through, that held weight. He needed to go home and make sure his friend was okay. Howard's son. Either way he'd have to tell her something about where he had been. She wouldn't just accept that it was complicated.

The front door jerked open and a pretty woman with dark blonde hair came flying out, calling over her shoulder. "Don't wait up, Peg! I'm -" She slammed to a stop, eyes traveling up and down Steve to the point he was starting to feel uncomfortable. "Wait…. no way. Are you-"

"You must be Angie," Howard prompted. "Peg's roommate."

"You're Mr Stark."

"Mr Stark was my father. Call me Howard. Peggy didn't tell me how pretty you are. And you're staying in my house? We should get to know each other."

She looked somewhere between flustered and flattered at Howard's obvious advancements, but it was a voice from inside the house that stole Steve's attention. "Angie? You alright?"

Peggy Carter rounded the base of the stairs and suddenly all four of them were standing in the doorway. Peggy was staring straight at him and all at once Steve was that scrawny kid from Brooklyn that hadn't known how to talk to women, much less a woman like Margaret Carter. He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't even think. To his left, Howard motioned. "Surprise, Peg."

"Steve," she breathed, and nothing else mattered.

                                               _____________

It was amazing how much energy he seemed to be expending just by sitting up in bed. He could feel his body trying to nod off, determined to shut down and force him to rest, but his main doctor - a trauma surgeon that Strange knew and that Tony was at least vaguely sure had more of a connection with him than the Wizard had been willing to admit in the brief introduction - was there and Pepper was laser focused on going over recovery and treatment. It was something to keep him semi focused until the kid came back with his report. And he would. Peter was smart as he was talented, but most of all he was eager to please, and that meant he wouldn't get bogged down by anything else when he knew Tony was waiting on what he had to say.

"Dr Banner will be responsible for the continued treatment of the radiation poisoning," Palmer was saying, "while my focus will remain on everything else."

Tony's attention swung back around to her. "When can I start physical therapy to get movement back in my arm?"

Palmer grimaced. "That won't be our immediate focus…."

"I'm an engineer. A mechanic. I need mobility in my hands."

"You want mobility in your hands. What you need is to focus on making as full of a recovery as you're capable of making. Your lungs and heart took a hit. Without getting that damage under control, you'll never make it to the physical therapy that will get you to where you want to go."

Tony opened his mouth to argue, but Pepper reached a hand out, her palm resting against his uninjured leg, and the argument died on his lips. "Just tell us what you'd recommend, Dr Palmer. We'll do it."

The door opened, distracting from whatever nuggets of wisdom Christine Palmer might have wanted to bestow upon them, and Peter stuck his head in. "Oh," he said instantly. "Sorry. I'll-"

"Come on in, kid. Doc here is just explaining how my life is gonna suck for a while."

"Better than dead," his wife points out and Tony tilted his head.

"Can't argue that." Dark eyes flickered to meet a set of slightly lighter brown. "How'd it go? Cap make it back in one piece?"

There was something about the look he wore that made Tony's chest tighten. Peter shook his head. "I'm…. I'm sorry, Mr Stark. Captain Rogers didn't come back. We waited, but he….."

A short, painful breath left him and Tony heard Pepper tightened her hold on him. They both knew what that meant. Something had gone wrong. He'd gone by himself into scenarios in which they'd refused to send just one Avenger alone before and instead of beating the odds, they'd beaten him. .

"Tony?" Pepper murmured, but he couldn't find the words. It hurt. More than he could have expected after everything, and he reached out with his left hand until she took it, her support the only thing holding his raging emotions in check.

Cap was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

                                               _____________

TBC

Notes: I adore Dominic Cooper's version of Howard, but I've never written him before now. I lovehim him. There are so many parallels between late 20's/early30's Howard and late 30's/early40's Tony. So many.

Next time: There's not turning back for Steve now and Tony tries to manage expectations for his recovery.

[redditnosleep]

My Son Won’t Take Off His Halloween Costume

by IamHowardMoxley

Being poor is tough, but it hits especially hard during the holidays. Halloween is the first reminder that you don't have the disposable income for your kid's happiness.

 I took Austin down to a local thrift store we visited frequently. They had a rack of reject costumes from supermarkets, a few cheap latex masks, corny novelty party hats and one very well made green and yellow bellied dragon costume that looked like it could fit Austin and Austin only, sitting alone next to a golf bag full of hockey sticks.

 It was painstaking detailed- it had scales that actually shimmered, interlocked in tiny emerald shields, each with their own special symbol. Hard like crystal, lighter than glass or even plastic. It was cute enough to make adults smile and remarkable enough to finally make my poor son the envy of all the rich kids at his school.

 My son jumped into it without waiting. I appreciated the workmanship on the rubber-soled feet, individual fingers with claws and lifelike tail and jaw. No stitches, no tag. Custom hand-made. Austin took the head of the dragon and slid it over his own, his bright smile eclipsed by the black mesh inside the dragon's open mouth. He begged me to get it. It wasn't cheap, at least for us, but well worth it for Austin.

 Austin wore the costume all day from then on. That was the...27th, when he went to his first friend's costume party of many. He was the hit of every one, so it was no wonder why he loved the dragon so much that he wanted to sleep in it. Seeing as how it was one giant plush and armored sleeping bag, we agreed. It seemed like we kinda had to- the kid did all his chores and homework in that costume as if he was trying to buy a favor with us BEFORE he asked if he could keep the costume on. We said yes, even at school he could wear it until Halloween.

 Austin's school is very open minded. The students loved the costume as much as everybody else; even the teacher was fine with letting Austin keep it on during school hours. It was the first week were Austin the Dragon didn't get in trouble; Austin even even got a rare "A" on his spelling test during the week before Halloween. He ate his veggies and brushed his teeth through a slot in the mesh that was hard to see at times, and it sounded like he was showering every night without us needing to tell him to. Why not let the kid have some fun?

 Austin's last Halloween is my bet for the best Halloween nights any kid has ever had. Every house was its own little amusement park of treats and decorations, almost all of them for Austin the Dragon, a legend that every kid spread at school. It seemed that every adult played along as knights or maidens or queens and even some of the other kids copied his costume, leading a band of dragons to terrorize the neighborhoods looking for chocolate late into the weekday night.

 What we feared would happen came true on the 1st of November- Austin refused to get out of the costume.

 He was never a shrieker or a kicker before, but he was when my wife or I tried to unzip the back or reach for the head of the dragon. After an hour of arguing and tears, we finally caved and sent our kid out to school looking like a fool.

 When my wife called me that afternoon saying it was the school and that it was an emergency, all I could imagine was a group of bullies beating up my son in his costume. I rushed all the way to the school nurse’s room, where I saw my son on his stomach, laying on the reclined bed, still in the dragon. The nurse told us that a kickball had flown over the fence and bounced off a truck's bumper, launching the ball onto a lamp post and then to the back on my son's head as he was walking out of lunch. A strange event, a stroke of back luck. Path of the storm and all that. The nurse did have good news- said the helmet inside the costume may have saved his life, as she could still feel a pulse even with the costume on. Austin was unconscious and may have been hemorrhaging. We needed to get it off of him.

 The helmet was stuck tight. So were the side and bottom zippers. The nurse had to ask a custodian for a pair of pliers to get a better grip on the zipper tabs. The nurse clamped onto it and tugged. My wife helped her. I should have left it alone, but I helped the two of them. With all three of us straining, the zipper peeled down slowly like an embedded knife drawing through a torso with sound that reminded me of wet wood splitting. The space above the zipper split open to a deep crimson gash flashing bones, muscles and organs. My wife screamed as the nurse yanked up the zipper up alone, closing the oozing, bleeding zippers as best she could as we picked him up.

 We followed our son in the facility school van / emergency ambulance to the nearest E.R and waited until dark, until 2 women and 2 men entered our son's E.R wearing medical medical scrubs that were bright white while the others wore powder green. They each carried an off, official kind of walk, kind of a march with matching bright blue soled nurses shoes. They looked...odd. Like actors in a play. But as out of place as they seemed, this new crew gave my wife and I new hope. 10 minutes later, two of them walked out, one carrying the costume of the dragon, the other the head. One said to the other “Just a little more time and his meal would have been done. Shame. Still, I can't believe they let one of us get all the way to a thrift store...” as they walked off down the hall, ignoring us. My wife followed them while I waited by the door for the other two. When the 3 of them left, a man exited the E.R in a hurry. The last women spoke in a strange accent to the man that left, like she learned English from a speech-bot.

 “You can't. Do that. Here.” The man's voice was quick and sleek.

 “Rules don't apply here, maneater. This is just the cattle pen.” I physically stopped the man with my arm. His brown eyes ruffled and shot down at me in indignant fury as I asked “Do you know anything about my son Austin..?”

 “Why would I know anything about your son?” The “doctor” wore one of those metal reflective disks on his head and a stethoscope that belonged on a TV set. His mask hid everything but those angry eyes. He smelled like gasoline made out of limes. I asked him what he was doing in the E.R with that group, and who he was.

 “Do you think I wear this mask just to advertise who I am?” he broke the contact with my hand and walked out of sight. I was so pissed I almost followed him before my wife running came back to me, breathless. She said those “doctors” stole the costume by walking out of the hospital, getting into a parked car and driving away. We came back to E.R and found the group standing outside, waiting for us. The doctors tried to explain that they didn't know what to do, as the costume appeared to be fused with Austin's skin, and no matter where they cut, they cut into Austin. Nobody knew who the group of strange 4 were or how they got the costume off. My wife and I pushed our way in past the barricade of bodies to see the half-digested bloody mess from Hell all over the operating table and room. In the mess was Austin's watch, pickled and shriveled, like it had been sitting in stomach for nearly a week.

 I ran from the E.R so quickly that my shoes slipped off halfway through the sprint. The first thing my eyes landed on was the blue bathroom symbol, and I bolted there to throw up and have my breakdown.

 The men's room door was propped open, and I had no shoes left to make a sound. That's why the arrogant doctor who blew past me didn't stop pissing- he didn't hear me or see me. He was was standing at one of the toilet stalls with his bright blue soled shoes at one of the stalls, standing half in and out between an open door, the front of his head out of view. I saw what looked like his deflated face and neck resting on his shoulders like a coat hood not in use. He then grabbed his own face with fake lips and empty eye holes and pulled it out of view into the stall as he put it on. I heard what might have been a zipper closing up, and I swore I saw his body jerk up a bit, like he just noticed I was standing there, watching everything. I bolted out, back to the arms of my crying wife. We called the staff and we waited for the man in the men's room to exit. When no one did, we searched the place and found nothing but the toilet he was using, filled with blood and half-digested chunks of bone.

[redvsvblue]

Paint and Metal and Everything in Between (4/4)

Hey-o, here’s part four. More Jeremwood set in the FAHC AU. There’s a NSFW scene. Some light descriptions of blood and injury, but nothing graphic. 

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, general tag)

The cold stare of the detective is piercing and unsettling, but not nearly as unsettling as the Vagabond's grin.

Ryan looks far too comfortable in handcuffs, legs sprawled out in from of him as he leans back in the uncomfortable metal chair, his hands tied tight behind it. The face paint is smeared on one side, dragged all the way down to his neck in wide streaks of red/white/black/grey and his hair falls in his eyes when he laughs.

Jeremy and Jack are bound similarly, except Jack just looks mostly annoyed and Jeremy – well, Jeremy's trying to project an air of Michael-like confidence but inside he's shitting himself because this is the first time he's been arrested with the crew.

Okay, well, technically his first crew arrest was a few months after some light vandalism with Gavin, but they escaped before they even got in the cruiser.

So it's his first time in custody during his association with the Fakes. And now he can definitely see why the news portrays them all wrong – it's because they present themselves all wrong.

Ryan really plays up the mad mercenary moniker, grinning almost manically and replying with quick, flippant answers that aren't answers at all, casually shrugs off the accusations and merely says that if I had done it there wouldn't have been any of him left to find. Officer.

And Jack – god, Jack. She's steely and silent, glaring at the detective and sneering when spoken to. She doesn't answer anything save for a snappy go fuck yourself and now Jeremy knows why she's known as the Bitch over the police radios. It's such a complete turnaround that it nearly gives Jeremy whiplash, and he's left over here wondering what the fuck to do with himself. He doesn't want to put up a front he can't hold, doesn't want to seem like the weakest link at the same time. He's fucked, he's boned, he's absolutely -

“Oh, he can tell you all about her,” Ryan says, head lolling over to look at Jeremy. Jeremy leans forward to see around Jack and Ryan grins, his tongue poking out of his mouth. “Can't you, 'Dozer?”

Dozer?

“What?” He asks flatly, feigning boredom. Jack sighs irritably, loudly in her chair and one of the officers shoots her a warning glare.

“All about that nice lady whose throat you ripped out,” Ryan says sweetly. “Fucked up your paintjob, didn't she?” What the fuck, he's never ripped out anyone's throat!

“I think that's enough, Haywood,” the detective snarls, holding a hand palm-out to him and turning to Jeremy.

“What kinda name is Dozer?” An officer asks quietly.

“I dunno, always sleepin' on the job?” The other replies, and the detective snaps a shut up to them as well.

“'Dozer, as in Bulldozer,” Jack says, rolling her eyes. “Y'know, 'cause he's yella’ like one.” She shoots him a snide glance and Ryan laughs loudly – forcibly – at her insult. Jeremy scoffs.

The detective glances back at the files on the table behind her, levels Jeremy with an unreadable stare.

“Boston kid, huh?” She asks, crosses her arms and perches on the edge of table like she has all the time in the world. “Long way to come.”

“Hm, none of your business,” Jeremy says – Ryan laughs again, this time more genuine, and one of the officers steps forward, hand on his gun. They have a little stare-down while the detective narrows her eyes at Jeremy.

“The docks,” she says, tilting her head. “Why'd you blow them?”

“I didn't.”

She scoffs.

“Mr. Dooley,” she says slowly, condescension dripping from her voice like honey. “We have security footage of you and your friends setting military grades detonation charges at the west harbour docks at midnight yesterday.”

“The only thing he's blowing here is me,” Ryan jokes, and Jeremy looks over just in time to see him get tased, juddering violently in the chair as he screams and doubles over – Jeremy's heart kicks up into doubletime and sudden fury rises in him, raced along by Jack's infuriatingly blank face, her blasé shrug as the tase stops and Ryan pants, drool leaking from his mouth, swallowing a few times before laughing quietly, madly.

Jeremy tamps it down when the detective raises a cool eyebrow, clearly expecting him to break and babble but he won't.

“I plead the fifth,” he says simply, and sits back in the chair. “I'm not speaking until I see a lawyer.”

Jack snickers and Ryan giggles again, glancing over at him.

“Oh, that's how you want to play it?” The detective asks. “Why, I'm sure we can organise a suitable...arrangement for you, Mr. Dooley.”

“She means jail!” Ryan hollers, and the officer tases him again – this time a large corner of the ceiling blows up and alarms blare as Michael and Geoff drop in amidst dust and plaster, cocking their guns and disabling the officers by shooting their kneecaps out – Michael slams the butt of his shotgun across the detective's face and knocks her out before striding over to Jack.

“Man, thought you'd never get here,” she says calmly as Michael jimmies open the cuffs, rubbing her reddened wrists and slipping the pistol out of Michael's jeans for herself – at the same time Geoff free Ryan, and when Jack's standing Michael goes to Jeremy.

“You didn't crack, that's good,” he says, and Jeremy casts a worried look over at Ryan, who's half-slumped against Geoff, wiping spit from his mouth and keeping up surprisingly well for someone who just got tased twice.

“Don't worry, he's fine,” Michael says, following Jeremy's gaze. “Happens all the time. Now come on, we've only got about thirty seconds before that door busts in.” As if on cue, voices rise outside the room and Michael and Geoff usher them all to the ladder now dangling through the hole in the ceiling – Jeremy sighs but climbs up after Jack, and the moment Geoff's feet are on the bottom rung Gavin lifts up and flies away.

It's a bumpy as fuck ride, all of them groaning when they eventually haul themselves into the body of the chopper, collapsing on the floor of it as Geoff closes the hatch.

“Hello and welcome to Fake airlines. This is your captain speaking!” Gavin chirps over the PA, and half of them laugh and the other half groan. “We've got a good tail wind up here, looks to be smooth  sailing. Oh, except maybe for the missiles!” Screaming erupts as the chopper pitches sideways, a missile roaring right past them and exploding among clouds, the blast rocking them back the other way and they all scramble to get up so they're not sliding all over the hard metal floor.

“Gavin!” Michael snaps, coughing into his elbow as he sinks into a seat – he grabs the little mic for the intercom and shouts into it, “Gavin, you fuck!”

In response, Gavin just screams again and they dodge a few more missiles, holding tight onto their seats as the chopper spins.

“Okay, okay, we're clear,” Gavin announces, relief clear in his voice. “They've given up on us.”

“You fuck!” Michael screams, and gets up to storm into the cockpit – Geoff follows and the sounds of a brief scuffle ensue. Jack gets up and closes the door.

Ryan trudges over to sit down beside Jeremy, stretching his legs out and resting his hands on his chest as he tips his head back and closes his eyes. Jeremy doesn't quite know what to do with his hands, unsure if it's okay to touch yet, so he just keeps them on his thighs even though he desperately wants to touch.

“Are you okay?” Jeremy asks, gesturing to Ryan's shirt where the taser burnt through.

“What? Oh, yeah, it's fine, just stings a bit,” Ryan says. He cracks an eye open and holds a hand out to Jack, beckoning. “Jack, medkit?”

“Please?” She sing-songs, handing it over nonetheless.

“Please and thank you,” Ryan replies with a grin, popping open the kit and taking out a few packets of alcohol wipes and a tube of cream.

Jeremy watches silently while Ryan hikes his shirt up to expose his chest, cleaning the taser wounds before smearing cream on them. He tugs his shirt down and puts the kit on the next seat over, butts his head against Jeremy's before resting his head on Jeremy's shoulder and closing his eyes. Jeremy rests a hand on Ryan's thigh and Ryan covers it with his own.

“Bulldozer?” Jeremy asks a few minutes later, looking at Jack. She shrugs and brings a leg up to rest her knee on it.

“I don't know, I was just goin' along,” she says. “Ryan's the one who said it.” She gestures to the guy currently dozing on Jeremy's shoulder and Ryan hums noncommittally.

“Improv usually works,” he mumbles.

“I feel like someone should have told me how this would work,” Jeremy deadpans. “Y'know, the cackling and the tasing and shit? Fuckin' creepy.”

“That's the point,” Jack replies. “Anyway, smooth recovery, I plead the fifth,” she teases, grinning at him.

“Hey, I panicked!” Jeremy protests, holding his free hand up in surrender.

“It was good,” Jack says. She grins and rests her head against the window. “Nice fuckin' job down there, Lil J.”

-- 

Jeremy considers the variety of painkillers on the shelf – debates gelcaps vs. plain pills – and after he's shifted the basket to his other hand for the fifth time he ends up just grabbing a few bulk packs and dropping them in next to the handful of surgical scissors.

He and Michael are doing a full safehouse restock today – Geoff's orders. Once they were in the store, Michael sent him to get basic medkit supplies while he himself wandered off for other things – although he had tasked Jeremy with finding Bengay for Geoff's aching neck.

Jeremy's just double-checking the contents of his basket – bandages, scissors, alcohol, needle, thread – when Michael returns to him, putting his own basket down on the floor between them and grunting out a greeting as he pulls out his phone. He rubs the back of his neck while he brings up a list – Jeremy can't read it from this angle, but Michael's focused intently on it, muttering quietly to himself.

Michael's basket is filled with heavier-duty items, like joint braces and splints, and sitting on top of it all is a paper pharmacy bag. With lack of anything better to do, Jeremy curiously picks up the bag and peers inside, expecting maybe morphine or heavy painkillers, but as he paws through the contents he finds numerous bottles of testosterone – he glances down and spies a pack of disposable needles in Michael's basket, just under the wrist brace.

“That's a lot,” Jeremy comments, folding the bag back down. Michael glances up at him.

“What?” His eyes flick down to the bag in Jeremy's hands. “Oh, that's Ryan's. We put one in every safehouse.” He shrugs. “Just in case we get stuck for a while.”

“Oh,” Jeremy says, feeling a little intrusive all of a sudden.

“Yeah, when, uh – oh, it was before you were with us, yeah - “ Michael shifts on his feet and glances down at his phone before looking back up at Jeremy, “ - this heist went bad and we had to hide and Ryan and I were stuck in the south dock house.”

“The blue, like, fisherman one?”

Michael nods and pockets his phone.

“Yeah. Anyway, he fucked up his leg and we were trapped there for, like, a month. And he didn't have any of his – hormones and shit and we couldn't get any, so. Kinda emotionally fucked him up a little. Ever since that Geoff's made sure we stock all the hideouts with it.”

“Shit, I didn't even know,” Jeremy says, setting the bag back down in Michael's basket.

“Learn somethin' new every day, Lil J,” Michael says with a grin, clapping a hand on Jeremy's shoulder. “Now help me pick out some shit for Gavin.”

Suddenly he picks up his basket and strides down the aisle and Jeremy scrambles to catch up, his basket banging against his knee as he half-jogs to Michael.

“Pick out? What are we picking out?” He asks.

Michael stops in front of the plaster section and grins conspiratorially at Jeremy before pointing to a bright box of Cars-themed Band-Aids.

“Four-for-two deal,” he says, and plucks out the box. “Gav usually needs them more than we do, so. Hand me that Barbie one?”

-- 

A dinner date turns into a lot more when they accidentally stumble into nightclub row and, well, Jeremy's not saying they may have ended up at a strip club but they've definitely ended up behind one.

Ryan groans gutturally and his fingers flex on Jeremy's head, pressing him in further as he rocks up into his mouth. Jeremy flicks his tongue over the barbell and Ryan spits out a curse, head tipped back against the wall and eyes closed while Jeremy blows him.

His jeans are only pulled down enough for Jeremy to get here, the buckle of his belt bumping against Jeremy's collarbone when he bucks up. Jeremy curls his tongue around Ryan's cock again and sucks noisily, his teeth clicking against warm metal.

“Oh, Jeremy, fuck,” Ryan moans, shuddering at the slight scrape of Jeremy's teeth. He's all soft and hot against Jeremy's tongue, flushed a dark, attractive pink, and Jeremy closes his eyes to focus on dragging out all the little reactions he can, from the low groans to the twitch of his thighs under Jeremy's palms.

The quiet chant of Jeremy's name is addictive, heady in all the best ways and he swirls his tongue around the wet nub of Ryan's dick to hear it more, Ryan's satisfied groans accompanied with urgent rolls of his hips. Jeremy pulls back for a breather, brushing his lips over where Ryan's swollen and slick while he pants.

Ryan tugs him back in a moment later and Jeremy goes easily, narrowing his tongue to a point and running it up the underside to make Ryan jerk and tremble, fingers tightening on Jeremy's neck. Jeremy squeezes his thighs and works more deliberately to get Ryan off, licking and sucking and finding all the sensitive spots he can while Ryan's groans pitch rough above him.

He's rewarded, a few breathless moments later, by Ryan's ragged moan and the slight buckle of his knees as he comes over Jeremy's mouth and chin, hot and wet  - his moan wavers into a surprised whimper when Jeremy dives in to lick it up. Jeremy swallows thickly and rolls his tongue over the piercing, keeps sucking until Ryan's pushing him away. He pulls Ryan's thighs open a little more to clean him up with his tongue, drops a kiss over his cock before settling back on his knees.

Jeremy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as Ryan tugs up his jeans and urges Jeremy to standing with the hand on his neck, dragging him in for a clumsy kiss. A warm hand cups Jeremy's jaw as Ryan's tongue curls into his mouth and a thigh shoves up between Jeremy's legs, giving him something to grind against.

Ryan's hand slips down the back of Jeremy's jeans to his ass, squeezing slowly and grinning at Jeremy's gasp. He uses that hand to guide Jeremy into a rough rhythm, drops his other to knead at Jeremy's dick through his jeans.

Jeremy presses his cheek to Ryan's as Ryan unzips him, spitting crudely into his palm before wrapping thick fingers around Jeremy's cock and stroking. He presses a kiss to Jeremy's jaw and then suddenly sinks to his knees, wasting no time getting his mouth on Jeremy and hollowing out his cheeks to suck sloppily, dragging his tongue over the slit. Jeremy groans and braces a hand against the wall and threads the other in Ryan's hair, shallowly rolling his hips in time with Ryan's bobbing and panting out his name as his toes curl in his boots.

When Jeremy's close, swearing and moaning and tense all over, Ryan pops off and presses a kiss to the spit-slicked head, raking a hand through his hair and clumsily pushing himself back up to standing to kiss Jeremy full-on, muffling his frustrated grunt with his mouth. He resumes his fast stroking and Jeremy breaks the kiss to pant, hips twisting up into Ryan's pattern and his hands fisting Ryan's shirt. Ryan's arm wraps around his shoulders to keep him steady.  

The fire door to Jeremy's right abruptly bangs open and footsteps pound out – they stop shortly along with the voices and Jeremy buries his burning face in Ryan's neck as Ryan glares at the people – Jeremy flushes hot all over knowing they've essentially been caught, and the adrenaline push launches him right over the edge and he comes messily over Ryan's fist, embarrassed and hot and desperately wishing he could have waited until the people left.

The footsteps hurry back inside and the door slams firmly shut and Jeremy trembles, sure he's blushing straight down to his chest while Ryan finishes him off and drops a kiss to Jeremy's head, panting raggedly into his ear. Jeremy whines in the back of his throat and twitches pathetically in Ryan's fingers.

Soon after Jeremy's settled, Ryan takes his hand away and Jeremy straightens again, tucking himself in while Ryan slumps against the wall. When he glances shyly up, Ryan grins and lifts his hand to lick the come off of it – the image sends a hot shiver through Jeremy.

“Didn't realise you had an exhibitionist thing,” Ryan teases, sucking pointedly on a knuckle and wiping his spit-wet fingers on his shirt.

“What, the blowjob didn't give it away?” Jeremy retorts automatically.

“Mm, 's hot,” Ryan says, pulling Jeremy in with a strong grip on his arms and kissing him. “Should do it more often.”

“You're just shameless, you know that?”

“About you, yeah.”

-- 

“Hey!” Ryan barks, tossing a shotgun over to Michael – Michael catches it neatly and turns to blast the guy charging him with a knife, downing him in one easy shot and cocking his gun to hit the next one while Ryan snaps in a new ammo clip and fires again, a bright spray of blood painting the wall.

“How's it goin'?” Geoff asks in Jeremy's ear.

“I think we're winning,” Jeremy gasps, pressing down on his bleeding side with a grunt. “Aw, fuck,” he mutters when he realises the wad of cloth he's holding is completely soaked through.

“We're gonna need the ambulance,” Michael shouts over the cracks of gunfire, him and Ryan moving in a slow circle around Jeremy as they pick off the last of the other gang.

“We've got a chopper right here,” Gavin says, and Jeremy groans at the thought of it. Ryan glances back at him.

“He can't handle that right now,” Michael replies. “Get the ambulance.”

“We're right here - “

“I don't care, Geoff! Get the fucking ambulance!”

“Michael, look, we can airlift him to -

“Ambulance!” Michael insists, and Jeremy groans weakly to indicate his agreement.

“Mi - “

“Ambulance!”

“Okay, okay!” Geoff says, and relays the orders to Jack. “Give us fifteen minutes.”

“Ten,” Ryan snaps.

“All right, ten, Jesus.”

Jeremy's really not hurt too badly – the scariest thing is the bleeding, and that's only because it was a long cut, deep enough for stitches but not deep enough to nick anything important – although he is incredibly dizzy from the pain and he really doesn't like the feel of his own blood seeping between his fingers.

He loses track of time, a little, surrounded by occasional gunshots – or maybe they finally fall silent, he's not sure – and Michael's and Ryan's movements and urgent chatter over the comms – next thing he knows Ryan's slapping his cheek and telling him to stay awake, stay awake, eyes on me, okay? and scooping him up in his arms, grunting with the effort. Jeremy's head lolls against his arm and Ryan looks down again – Jeremy notices the blood on his cheek is only a few shades darker than the paint.

Jeremy makes another pained noise and his injured side presses up against Ryan's front, jostled painfully with each step and he isn't quite sure anymore why it's important he stays awake but Ryan's repeating it every few seconds so Jeremy tries if only to shut him up.

Suddenly there's noise and sirens and a dangerous screech of tyres and Michael's screaming something while Ryan holds Jeremy tighter and -

The world goes up, and down, and Jeremy only barely registers the slam of the van doors behind them – the world jolts into motion again and Jeremy's so dizzy it hurts, his pulse pounding in time with his bleeding out and everything blurs and swims as he's laid down on a rough cot.

His shirt's torn away. Alcohol stings.

Oh my god, he's bleeding everywhere!

I fucking told you we needed the ambulance, Gavin!

A hand lands on his cheek, slapping a bit roughly and Jeremy forces his eyes open to see Michael's face above him upside down. He lets out a slurred gah sound and Michael pinches his cheek – the twinge of pain hardly compares to the agony blistering down his side.

“Hey, asshole, stay awake,” Michael orders. “Ryan's sewing you up.”

“Eurgh, that's bloody nasty, that is.”

“Then don't fucking look!” Michael says, exasperation tight in his tone. “Jeremy, keep looking at me, okay?” He leans in a little more and pulls a series of funny faces – a bubble of laughter rises in Jeremy's chest and all he offers is a wheeze, but Michael smiles at him, sticks his tongue out almost close enough to lick Jeremy's nose.

Jeremy hates the sensation of his skin closing up and the slight pinch of the needle he can feel every second, but he focuses on the twist of Michael's mouth when the van bumps over something and the sound of Gavin falling down on a sharp turn – Ryan yells something and Jack replies and Jeremy starts drifting away again, in no way pleasantly lulled into a doze but rather just pained enough he doesn't really give a shit about the rough ride.

“Stay awake,” someone says, and slaps him again.

“I'm done, I'm done,” Ryan says all in a rush – Jeremy turns into the hand on his cheek and Michael grumbles something but curls his fingers under Jeremy's jaw nonetheless, holding him steady.

“Look at me,” Michael says. Jeremy does. “If we give you painkillers you have to promise not to pass out.”

Jeremy mumbles something garbled and Michael sighs, patting his cheek.

“Give 'em here, Ryan.”

Something goes in his mouth and Jeremy swallows reflexively – someone's hand pets over his throat and helps him swallow the pills, going back to his cheek when he's done that.

“Stay awake,” Michael reminds him, and Jeremy promptly passes out.

-- 

“Hey, dipshit, I told you to stay awake.”

Jeremy groans and immediately coughs, then falls into a violent coughing fit that makes his side sear with pain. Someone sighs and rolls him a little onto his side and liquid wells up in Jeremy's mouth – he spits automatically into the tissue someone holds out for him and a little tremour of panic runs through him when he sees that it's red.

“Don't worry,” the person says as they ball up the tissue and push Jeremy back onto his back. “'S just a bitten tongue. Managed to do it while you were unconscious.”

Jeremy grunts noncommittally and opens his eyes properly to see Michael above him, his split lip cleaned up and a prupling bruise blossoming over his jaw.

Jeremy tries to ask a question but it comes out as ahh ooooh? and Michael just shakes his head and laughs, patting Jeremy's shoulder. He's in a bed – the guest room at the penthouse, he realises.

“You've been out for just over two hours,” Michael says. “You're good. We stitched the gash and cleaned you up and the rest of us are okay.” He glances back where Jeremy can't see and his mouth twists.

Jeremy huhs questioningly and Michael urges him up a little so he can see Ryan, slumped in a chair in the corner and sleeping, his head propped up with a hand and his chest rising and falling with his soft breathing. There's a butterfly bandage over his cheek, gauze wrapped around his knuckles. His clothes are clean.

“He's been here for a bit,” Michael says, plumping up a few pillows and shoving them behind Jeremy so he's at a slight angle. “Poor fuck passed out right in the chair.” He finishes with rearranging Jeremy and crosses his arms, glancing back at Ryan again.

“There's dinner for you if you want it,” Michael says, turning his gaze back to Jeremy. “I'll get some water for you first.”

With that he leaves the room -  a few moments later the sound of socked feet on hardwood approaches the door and Gavin steps in, grinning wide when he sees Jeremy.

“Lil J!” He says, bounding up to Jeremy's side. “How're you feeling?”

Terrible, Jeremy wants to say. Instead he gets errgh. Gavin laughs and pulls up a chair from the wall, plopping down in it to Jeremy's right and rest his arms on Jeremy's bed.

“Hey, I got – Gav, I told you to leave him alone!” Michael hisses when he walks in, holding a tray with two plates and balancing multiple glasses of water on it while he glares at Gavin.

“I'm not botherin' him,” Gavin protests with an easy smile, looking at Jeremy. “Am I, Lil J?”

Jeremy lifts his eyes to Michael's and offers a faint shrug with one shoulder. Michael sighs and rolls his eyes before walking over to the chair on Jeremy's left, setting the tray down on the free space on the bed and handing him a glass.

Gavin reaches over to try and pluck a piece of bread from the plate and Michael slaps his wrist away, breaks into fond laughter when Gavin tries again – Jeremy smiles and drinks and Michael and Gavin fall into friendly banter while Jeremy slowly works his way through dinner.

-- 

The next time Jeremy wakes up, Geoff's in the chair, reading a book with his feet propped up lazily on Jeremy's bed, and there's early, early morning light streaming through the curtains. Jeremy grunts and Geoff smiles at him.

“Need anything?” He asks, and Jeremy shakes his head. He'd woken up a few hours ago because he needed to piss, and Michael helped him with that. His throat's a little dry, but he wants to see if he'll stay awake this time or if he'll just pass out again. Geoff hums in acknowledgement and turns back to his book.

Jeremy wiggles all the parts of him that he can, sighing as feeling rushes back to his curled toes, his stiff fingers. His shoulders ache and the agony in his side is dulled by painkillers, thick bandage swathed over the wound under his shirt and his ribs taped up.

“Geoff, breakfast's ready,” someone says through a yawn as they open the door – it's Ryan, two mugs of steaming coffee in his hands and his hair still mussed up from sleep. When he sees Jeremy's awake he perks up a little, a relieved smile breaking out across his face as Geoff stands up.

Ryan hands Geoff a mug and Geoff thanks him with a pat to his shoulder before slipping out behind him, his footsteps soft as they fade away. Ryan comes over to Jeremy's side and sets the mug down on the bedside table while he drags the chair closer and sits.

“Ow,” Jeremy whispers dramatically. Ryan laughs and carefully threads his fingers through Jeremy's, grinning a little goofily.

“You think you can stay awake this time?” Ryan teases.

“Fuck you,” Jeremy rasps. Ryan leans in to press a kiss to Jeremy's knuckles, chuckles when Jeremy flexes his fingers to try and slap Ryan's cheek.

“Hm, you stink,” Ryan murmurs, brushing another soft kiss over Jeremy's fingers. Jeremy can't help his little wheezing, painful laugh, and Ryan gently squeezes his hand with a pleased huff.

“Love you,” he says. Jeremy sighs loudly and Ryan laughs again, a relieved, happy noise that makes Jeremy smile.

“Yeah, love you, too,” he says quietly.

-- 

“He's gonna miss!” Geoff crows, handing the binoculars to Jeremy and clapping as he laughs – Jeremy lifts the binoculars to focus on the bright rainbow spot in the distance – Gavin's parachute, drifting down and missing the ship by a fucking mile. Michael's jet circles around again and Jack's laughter erupts through the phone laying between Geoff and Jeremy when he sees Gavin in front of her boat instead of on it.

Gavin spirals down to the ocean and underwater – when he comes back up and starts swimming to shore, Jeremy can only imagine the raucous laughter from inside the cockpit, the bickering going on between Michael's and Gavin's comms as Gavin hauls himself onto the sand. Jack's broken into wheezing over the phone, giggling madly to herself at nearly the same pitch Geoff is, taking the binoculars again to peer at Gavin.

Jeremy joins in on Geoff's laughter, loudly cracking up all over again when Michael's jet comes around once more and Ryan jumps from it, missing the boat by just as much as Gavin and Jack literally cannot form words anymore, gone silent with laughter, and Geoff's fucking losing it, cackling as Ryan crashes into the water.

Geoff puts the binoculars down while Michael and Gavin and Ryan go about setting up again – Jack talks to them on the comms and Geoff lowers the volume on the phone as he passes a can to Jeremy, who can't stop snickering enough to actually pop it open.

“Oh man, this is the stupidest thing we've ever done,” Geoff breathes, giggling again as he clinks his Coke with Jeremy's. “Oh, I love you guys.”

“Wait until Michael wrecks your jet,” Jeremy says through his laughter – his side hurts from it, but when he pulls his shirt up to check there's no new blood on the bandage. “Or when Ryan tries to blow the boat up.”

“Ah, that's Jack's problem,” Geoff sighs. They're sitting on the edge of the penthouse roof, their legs dangling off the edge and their sodas perilously close to it. Jeremy is resolutely not looking down.

It's only been a few days since he's been up and moving, and if he were able to he'd probably be one of the crazy ones jumping out of high speed jets and trying to land on a boat, but instead Geoff stayed back with him and helped him up to the roof to watch.

Michael does a barrel roll and Jeremy's quickly relieved that he's not in there with Gavin and Ryan right now – accepts the binoculars to watch as Gavin jumps from the plane.

Gavin misses.

-- 

On the morning of Jeremy's birthday, Ryan rolls over in bed and lays a small, silver key on his chest. Jeremy frowns at it and Ryan presses up to his side again, his chin against Jeremy's shoulder and his breath puffing out hot over his neck.

“What's this?” Jeremy asks, picking up the key and inspecting it in the sunshine pouring in through the window.

“Your key,” Ryan says, already halfway back to sleep.

“Huh?”

“You practically live here anyway,” Ryan mumbles, and sighs as he curls an arm around Jeremy's waist. Jeremy's dumbstruck for a solid five seconds before he manages to process that Ryan basically just asked him to move in – in the most roundabout, casual way he could, and Jeremy rubs his thumb over the shiny key, a smile growing on his face.

“Shit, Ry,” he whispers, but Ryan's already asleep again.

Jeremy rolls his eyes and reaches over to drop the key on his bedside table before settling his hand over Ryan's forearm and closing his eyes.

[euphoric-melancholyy]

On Sleepless Roads (1/3)

This fic is a love letter to the characters of Emma Swan and Killian Jones. It is a fic that has been in the works for over nine months and I am so excited to share it with everyone. It started with filming spoilers of our favorite female protagonist being stabbed on a dark, foggy night in Storybrooke and it grew from there. Season 6 Canon divergence. 

(Tagging @acrobat-elle and @lovebecomeshim upon request.) 

Ao3    FF   Part 2  Part 3

One night of peace is all they were granted before the next crisis began. One night to recover from the aftermath of darkness and secrets, hell and death, before Mr. Hyde made his presence in town known. But with Killian by her side, it didn’t seem to matter in the long run. The moment she saw him above the place his body had been laid to rest, a question in the call of her name, she decided to fight for her own happiness. Maybe the savior could have a happy ending as well. Maybe this was it.

That was what she had believed before she found herself here.

“Ah, the infamous Savior. Do you really think yourself a match for me?” She can’t see his face, the cloaked figure that’s far too reminiscent of past Dark Ones. With the edge of his blade threatening Henry’s throat, she draws her sword, sighing in relief when the action grants her son’s release. Killian grabs Henry the moment he’s near.  

Cold air bites at her skin, slips into the gap between her sweater and back, leaving a trail of goosebumps. She tightens her grip on her father's sword. “I think you’ll find yourself surprised.”

“Perhaps. But you can’t fight wounded.” She feels the ground give beneath her first - knees stinging with a thud as they hit concrete. There’s a thick sticky crimson covering her hands where she’s holding them at her side and oh god -

The dagger poking out of torn flesh burns - a hot searing pain that stifles her breathing. It hurts. It aches, throbbing with a sharp pain paralleled by nothing she has felt before. Her cry is a high pitched wince as her body curves into itself and dammit it hurts. She tries to focus on the roughness of the unpaved road at her knees, but she can feel the sensation fading, can feel herself fading with it. The moment she moves, a small shift as her legs give out, it comes back with a fury.

Muffled words grow louder as the world around her comes back into focus, Killian’s panicked voice the only thing she can hear.

“What’s wrong? Emma, Emma, love talk to me!”

Her eyes burn too, and she tries to blink against the dust clouding them, moaning in pain at the knife lodged into her side. “Killian,” she breathes, leaning into his chest as his arms wrap around her. Magic pulsates beneath her palms but does nothing to heal the wound or stop the bleeding. “Son of a bitch.” It's gritted between closed teeth, and she tries again to no avail.

Killian’s hand is cold as it roams across her shoulders and down to her back, frantically searching for something he can’t seem to find. He repeats her name, a panicked fear she can feel rise in his chest with every inhale.

“I’m-” His hand finds hers with calloused fingers pressing further into the wound - adding kerosene to what might have been a dulling spark. She reels forward as the lights flicker on, an anguished cry at the contact. It seems to summon Henry, the absolute last person she wants to see her in this state. But before she can tell him to leave, he's scavenging for keys as Killian lifts her into his arms. Her request would have fallen on deaf ears anyway.

“Come on, Swan. I’m getting you to a hospital.”

-/-/-

She wakes to white, blinking in finally clear vision. The persistent beeping from machines and wires twisted around her arm only add to her disorient and she hears more than feels the familiar crinkle of leather shifting next to her. Curved, cool metal rests atop her hand that she now registers as being interlocked with Killian’s. It’s a second of blissful peace - another stolen quiet moment that only a couple nights ago, she thought they’d never have again. She turns her head to his, thumb reaching up to smooth the worry lines etched into his forehead. Reality, however, is setting back in, and with it is a rising panic. “What happened?”

“Your faithful pirate and son brought you in a few hours ago,” Dr. Whale begins. She wants to laugh, or cry, at the fact that he seems to be Storybrooke’s only doctor. In the end she settles for avoiding eye contact. “You were pretty out of it, something about being stabbed. But whatever it was, you were in a lot of pain. So, I sedated you and ran some tests.”

“What are you talking about? I was stabbed.” She looks to Killian, the confusion furrowing his brows creating a deep anxiety in her chest.

“Hook, would you like to tell her what you told me?” Whale asks.

Killian nods, squeezing her hand just a little tighter. “Love, what do you remember?”

“We were in front of Gold’s shop and Hyde had one of his minions there, a guy in a black cloak, so I couldn’t see his face. He threatened to hurt Henry, so I pulled my sword and the next thing I know, he stabs me. Then you brought me here.”

“Emma,” It’s barely a whisper, his face breaking. There’s an unease that settles in the silence that follows. It’s the first chance she gets to really look at him. His leather jacket is hanging on the arm of his chair, and instead he’s donning a pair navy pajama pants she bought him with a plain white tee. His hair is a complete mess and she itches to run her fingers through it, tame what sleep and worry has done. He gives her a soft smile, saddened blue eyes staring into emerald, and she bites her bottom lip. “We were sleeping- you woke up screaming. . .You weren’t stabbed.”

“Oh.” It’s all she can muster. When Henry first came to her door, telling a tale of a cursed town and parents that loved her and sent her through a magical wardrobe to protect her from the doom they were to face from the Evil Queen, it was the first of many times where Emma Swan had difficulty in discerning reality from fantasy. Everything she knew was flipped on it’s axis, and yet her gut told her it was right. But this. . .

She would have put everything she had on it being real. How could something so vividly painful not be? It’s not as if Emma is unfamiliar with nightmares-- she spent the majority of her life learning to differentiate between the shadows in her dreams and the ones in her waking hours.

Maybe her sanity was left in the Underworld.

“You’ve been through a lot lately, between all that drama with your parents and then becoming The Dark One. Not to mention losing our boy here-”

“What exactly are you getting to, Whale?” She interrupts, the fear and anxiety shifting into anger.

“Maybe I’m not the doctor you should be seeing. Maybe, and I’m not a psychologist, but maybe your subconscious was channeling what happened with Hook, how he died, into your dream. You’ve been under almost constant stress. Saviors aren’t exempt from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

“Yeah and doctor’s aren’t exempt from bad dye jobs.”

“Emma! You're awake!” Snow exclaims as she walks into the room with David. Dr. Whale takes their entrance as a chance to exit and Emma sighs. As welcome as her parents interruption is, there are still questions about what the tests read that she would like answered. But mostly she dreads telling them it might have all been in her head.

“Is Henry okay?”

“He’s fine.” David replies, sending a small smile in Emma’s direction.  “A little freaked out and worried, but we all are. How are you feeling?”

“Better...Can we go home now?”

Her eyes find Killian’s at the end of the question, her heartbeat evening out at the understanding reflected back. It’s their own secret language, reading beneath the surface of what words are not spoken. The words that are laced with worry and anxiety, that say I’m scared and tired. She wonders if he feels it too.

“Aye, love. But first,” he unhooks her from the machines that keep her bound in the small, fluorescent lit room. “We wouldn’t want to take this bloody, beeping contraption with us.”

“Are you sure?” Emma can see the hesitance written on her mother’s face before she speaks. It's obvious by the bags under her eyes that Emma isn't the only one who’s had difficulty sleeping lately. “I mean, what did the doctor say?”  

“It’s nothing.”  Emma knows they’re worried for her; even with it being nearly quarter to five in the morning, she doesn’t miss the pinched expression flash across her mother’s face. But her head is swimming and her stomach churns with what she’s afraid to admit and all she wants is Killian’s lips pressed to the base of her throat, his arms tightly wrapped around her middle, holding her together from a wound she didn’t receive. “Can we just talk about it in the morning? I’m really tired and I want to get out of here.”

“Uh,” Snow nods, glancing over at David before continuing.  “Sure. Why don’t you two come stay with us tonight? I’ll make breakfast in the morning.”

“Rain check? I kinda just want to go home. But I’ll see you all later, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. You’ve had a long night.”

She hugs her parents before departing with her arm snaked around Killian’s waist and her head resting against his shoulder.

They move slowly through the streets, Emma leaning her full weight against her pirate. He keeps his arm tight around her, though her grip is tighter, humming softly to her as the birds wake and harmonize. It’s not until he’s helped her up the stairs, his kisses soft against her hairline and his fingers moving deftly to disrobe her jacket and clothes, that she realizes it’s a lullaby. She wants to ask him where he heard it, if his own mother sang it to him, if there are lyrics, but he lifts her into bed and lies down next to her. She forgets her questions and shuffles until her ear is pressed against the hollow of his throat, his pulse replacing his tune as her own heart starts to beat in time. It’s enough.

-/-/-

He finds her in the kitchen, fingers tapping against her coffee mug - the one with an anchor and “a pirates life for me” embroidered in black. She had bought it during their six weeks of peace, offering it to him with a bright grin and a terrible impersonation of his accent as she asked him “What do you think of this one, love?”. He wishes she still wore that infectious smile now and not the worry and exhaustion lacing her brows. He had fallen asleep once they returned home, but she had not succumbed, choosing instead to curl up in his arms long after the first sign of light shone through the window.

“You made breakfast?”

“Yeah, it’s still warm,” she sets the mug down to place the plates she had prepared on the table. He’s by her side before she reaches her destination, hand clasping around her wrist, thumb gently circling around the ink of her tattoo.

“Swan, talk to me. Trust me, drowning yourself in your thoughts never ends well.”

“What if Dr. Whale was right? What if I'm just slowly going insane and that's my fate as the Savior?”

He frowns at this, fury mixing with a sharp ache. Confessions made in the dead of night and mused with tales of her past create a chasm of self doubts as deep as his own. Still, it takes him aback to see how easily she discharges her own credibility. It was real. The pain she was in as real as the house they now stood in.  And he tells her as much. “I was right there with you, remember? That pain was real. I’ve seen magic do terrible things. We might not have been able to see it, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t feel it.”

“You think this was some sort of dark magic?”

“Aye.” He smiles at her, trying to convey his belief in her, but she sits a bit warily and he thinks he might’ve missed the mark. He drops to the table and swirls the fork in his hand. “Perhaps we could take a trip to Regina’s after your parents.”

Emma’s shoulders drop and she nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

-/-/-

Regina's house is surprisingly clean, considering. In the small amount of time between leaving the Underworld and Zeus reviving Killian, Emma had managed to tear her own house apart. (She had been able to keep herself together during the day as she searched, but nightfall crept in, with every inch of pain singing of a lost future, a lost true love, and grief consumed her. With the evil half of Regina gone, she can only imagine how she’s coping.)  

Henry nearly knocks Emma over with the force of his hug (When had he gotten so big?) and she laughs, ruffling his hair. “Hey, kid. Is Regina around?”  

“Yeah, she’s in the kitchen. Are you feeling better?”

“That’s actually what I am here to talk about. Can you hang with Killian for a bit?”

Henry nods before leading Killian upstairs, likely for another pop culture lesson. She can’t help the smile that brightens her face whenever her true loves are together. It’s small miracle, she thinks, that two of the most important men in her life have formed such a strong bond. They seemed to have developed their own language, with jokes she doesn’t quite get and secrets shared while drifting away at sea. Killian has become such an integral part of Henry’s growth into a young man and it warms her burdened heart to know that no matter what Henry has Killian to lean on.

Emma grants herself one last look up the grand staircase before trekking through the house in search of Regina. She finds her elbows deep in a sink brimming with suds and dirty dishes. “I thought you’d be too refined for dishes.” Emma remarks, offering a small smile.

“Yeah, well I’m a mother too. And mother’s don’t get the privilege of skipping these tasks.” She fidgets with the faucet until the water comes to a stop, drying her hands on a towel next to her. “So,” Regina pauses, noticing the downcast expression on her face. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

“It’s. . .Do you know anything about a dark magic making a dream feel real?”

“Like a sleeping curse?”

“Not exactly. More like, if you’re injured in a dream, once you wake up, you can still see and feel the effects of that injury. . .”

“Did you go to the hospital last night over a nightmare?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know what it was. I thought I was stabbed until Killian told me I wasn’t. Whale wrote it off as PTSD and stress, but I’m not crazy. I know what I felt, what I saw.”

“Start from the beginning.”

And she does. She tells her of standing in the street with the black cloaked man, her family behind her and the knife to Henry’s throat. She describes the best she can the unbearable pain that took over when that same knife pierced her side, the blood pooling at her hands even as Killian had lifted her into his arms, the blade still lodged into her flesh. She recalls how she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see through dust that blocked her vision and burned in her eyes and -

“That doesn’t fit. You wouldn’t feel dust burning in your eyes from a stab wound.” Regina interrupts, her eyes widening as she pieces together a possible diagnosis.  “In the storybook Henry took from the library, there was this one story that I could have sworn was merely legend. What do you know of the sandman?”

“Oh Mr. Sandman bring me a dream, make him the cutest I’ve ever seen?” Emma singsongs.

“In the book, the Sandman is a generational curse. I bet you those dreams don’t have to be happy.”

“Wait, so you think that the Sandman is haunting me?”

“There are so many new residents in town, Hyde and his untold stories...it has to be him.” The former queen bounces out of her chair before making her way to the other side of the room. She reaches up onto a shelf, pulling out a book similar to Henry’s. “Take this.”

“Thank you.” Emma replies. It feels inadequate as she stares at the eloquent writing across the cover of the book - Once Upon a Time - knowing that a piece of Regina’s happiness has been so recently ripped away. And yet, she’s still helping, not retrieving into grief as Emma had done.  “Seriously, thank you. And if there’s anything I can do-”

“Just go home and get some rest. You look like hell.”

“Yeah, okay.”

-/-/-

When sleep comes, so do the monsters. This time it’s magic slamming her against the clock tower, her head throbbing with an intensity that carries past the dream and into the real world. Killian awakes to the sound of her soft moan as she rolls out of bed and stumbles to the door.

“Swan?”

“Go back to sleep, Killian. I’m just getting some ice.”

Instead of listening, he runs after her, helping her down the stairs to retrieve the treasure she was seeking, sitting her down on the couch. She feels warm in his arms, almost as if she could succumb back into slumber once the pain dulls. (She knows she won’t, but hopes Killian does.)

Maybe that’s the Sandman’s plan.

[thejamesoldier]

Opia

Hi everyone! So this is part one of the ABO Verse fic I promised to post. I finally got around to writing it and voila! Let me know what you think pretty please? It’s kinda short but every first chapter is right? xxx 

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Summary: The a/b/o verse where Hydra fucked with Bucky’s hormones and temporarily made him a Beta (because they take orders better) as the Winter Soldier, but now that he’s safe at Stark Tower, Tony hires Y/n to help re-orientate him back to his natural-born rank as Alpha.

Tags: Angst, fluff, smut (duh), and everything else I can’t remember right now lol

Tagged Lovlies: @softforseb, @mrtinslydia, @wine-and-space-donuts, @aislinsekhem, @creideamhgradochas (lemme know if you wanna be tagged x)

(oh and I did this lazy crappy last minute minimalist cover, but I would love if you guys submitted your own covers :) Sexy, angsty, whatever you want idc but I’d love to see some!!! You guys are way better at graphics than I am lol)

                                                     Prologue 

Opia n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel                                      simultaneously invasive and vulnerable

Chapter 1 - Who the Fuck is That?

Silence reigns over the group. 

Tony cockily lifts his chin a tick, the scent wafting from his neck boasts that he’s proud of himself. 

“Why couldn’t you have just gotten him a kitten?” Steve mutters into the calloused flesh of his large hands that are currently cradling his face. 

A specific type of exhaustion strains Rogers’ voice (hint: it’s not the sleep-deprived kind) as Bucky, standing beside him, goes ram-rod straight, body stiff, pulled to full height…erect. Bucky’s eyes widen so much it’s like they’re preparing to pop right out of his skull.

You blink owlishly at the entirety of the Avengers standing in a haphazard circle around you, just as shocked and profoundly confused as they are.

“Tony, that’s a person.” Natasha states point blank after a couple beats, before her nostrils flare and her Alpha nose scents something else that’s equally, if not more, alarming, “Tony that’s an omega.” 

Everyone cranks their gazes slowly away from you and back to Tony. ‘EXPLAIN’ is the silent word that’s unanimously yelled at Stark. 

He does an insecure little shoulder roll before clearing his throat,

“When I was – whenever I was, you know…lost I always had Pepper,” Tony begins like he’s reading the opening hook line to an epic story (A quiet ‘here we fucking go’ sounds from Clint). “My Pepper, she never let me down, not once. She’s honestly the only person on this entire planet, and quite possibly in this universe, that I truly trust my entire self to.” Tony pauses and quickly eyes everyone in the room, “No offense. But anyway she can handle it, me, she can handle me and all my baggage and hold me up, hold up all my weight when I need to lean on her. Metaphorically speaking of course, although I shouldn’t cast judgement upon the subject since I don’t know for sure if she could physically hold up all my dead weight, Pep probably can, actually she’s damn strong–,”

“Tony!” Natasha interrupts, voice tight and impatient as she flashes a quick analyzing side glance at you before returning her attention back to Tony.

“Right,” Stark huffs as he gets himself back on track and re-focuses his gaze on Bucky who suspiciously, purposefully, is avoiding looking at Tony or you or anyone for that matter. He seems quite fascinated with the plating on his metal arm at the moment. “In short, I got Barnes his very own Pepper Potts…but sorta in reverse. You know because Pep is my alpha and I’m the omega and Bucky is an alpha and this woman here is –” 

A fierce growl interrupts Tony’s tangent. Everyone’s eyes snap back to you. 

Your teeth are bared with fury, your hands are balled by your stiff sides, and your brows dig low into the sharp glare of your gaze.

“I. Am. Not. An. Animal. To. Be. Sold.” You punctuate each sizzling word with a snarl, staring mostly at Tony but everyone receives your message loud and clear none the less.   

Tony Stark (you scent him expertly: Omega, wild sage, unburnt coal, tang of molten iron; highly intelligent according to the complexities of his scent layers) looks genuinely confused before narrowing his eyes challengingly against your glare.

“Didn’t you respond to the ad I put up looking for a caretaker with the natural-born rank of Omega?” 

You freeze, remembering the ad and that you did submit a resume, but not remembering seeing anything about Tony Stark or association with the Avengers for that matter.  

“Yes but–,”

“Who specializes in Alpha current duty, ex-military, or veteran patients?”

“Yes! Bu–,”

“Equipped for severe PTSD episodes?”

“Yes b–,”

“Has a Harvard Masters Degree in Scenting?”

“Yes–,”

“Another Masters from Harvard on The Science of Bonding?”

“Ye–,”    

“Trained to help Alpha Re-Orientation?”

“Y–,”

“Certified in The Rut Rehabilitation Program?”

You practically shriek the growl you let out to get Stark to shut the fuck up. Damn this rich know-it-all asshole. I mean he went and memorized your entire resume…who fucking does that?

After Tony goes silent with this infuriatingly knowing smirk slapped on his stupidly groomed face, you take a steadying breath. Everyone had been watching you two speak, their eyes jumping back and forth from each Omega. 

“As I was trying to say,” You shake your head a little, letting the hair around your neck stir your scent into the air making it stronger for the others to smell, making your presence known – demanding respect and attention. “There was no mention of your name Mr. Stark, or who the patient was.”

“Why does it matter who the patient is?” Steve Rogers (you scent him too: Alpha, rainwashed lilies, old red city brick, dewy firewood ash; revealed as one of the most fiercely loyal alphas you’ve ever encountered as other people’s scents [especially the man with the metal arm] is bonded so deeply with his own) suddenly interrupts, sounding extremely defensive. 

You observe the Captain’s body posture with finessed skill, quickly gathering that what he’s defensive of is the man with the metal arm standing beside him. Quickly you turn your attention to the patient in question. 

When your eyes land on Bucky, something within him clicks. Maybe its the way you’re looking at him - evaluating, sizing up – or maybe its your scent, but whatever it is it makes that oddly familiar but uncomfortably foreign Alpha instinct kick in. James stretches and arches his neck subtly like a prancing stallion, parading the now visible steady beat of his heart pulsing against the thin skin connecting his neck and shoulder. In effect showcasing the unmarked skin canvas where the bond bite goes…

Bucky’s stance is wide and low and strong and completely inexorable, like not even the sun’s gravity could uproot him. His arms and shoulders are not held but simply energized and rolled back to highlight the blatant plane of proud muscle bloating his chest. He gently shakes his head to seem like he’s trying to get his bangs out of his eyes, but really the intention is more like that of a male lion showing off his mane. Bucky’s long dark hair tousles over the horizon of his shoulders, allowing for his scent to scatter and permeate the air thickly and temporarily override any other smell. 

It takes Bucky longer than it should to realize what he’s doing, and in his gap of clarity you take in all of him that’s being shown to you – sight and scent– and you instinctually respond right back. 

You formally present yourself to James Barnes. 

You arch the low curve of your back, winking you behind at Bucky and showing off the sensual dip right above your ass. You work your body with such practice, so prettily. Bucky can’t help but take a silent breath in when he realizes you’re not done yet. You push your chest out in a subtle but obvious way – coy like, and unlike most omegas who drop their chin and gaze down from the superior stare of an alpha, you lift your chin higher, teeth clenching tight to show off the shape of your jaw, and eyes ablaze with sure challenge. You may be presenting yourself, but you sure as hell weren’t submitting. There is a huge difference that the media likes to make interchangeable. 

No one has been able to claim you, meaning you haven’t accepted anyone’s courtship yet. “You are too powerful for an omega” or “You’re too much to handle” they all say. Sometimes people even mistook you for an alpha, which always made you laugh like a loon. So not only did you present to Sergeant Barnes, but you sized up this alpha ballsy enough to declare himself formally to you. The pretty ones were always the weakest you had found, so you made the mistake of grossly underestimating Bucky. You thought he was way too goddamn handsome to be your equal, he would bow (or more like stomp and pout like the others have) out of your courtship within the day. Wrapping up the exchange you drag your amused and judging eyes up and down Bucky’s offered picture once more before looking away from him and back to Tony. 

“Oh I’m not going anywhere near him.” You state professionally unapologetic, with your arms crossed and your chin still raised high to match your single lifted, unimpressed eyebrow.  

Steve Rogers’ protesting mouth hangs open and Bucky has the audacity to look cautiously offended.

“Well why the fuck not?” Stark accuses you suddenly, quickly defending the alpha’s honor interestingly before Captain Rogers could cut in. 

Your nostrils flare as you take a calculating whiff of the offending alpha: James’ natural scent is heavy but hidden well and undetectable under a spray of thick confusion, crippling heart ache, self-loathing, fear, fury, guilt, and every negative emotion that the human heart is capable of feeling; like the smell of fresh summer fruit suffocated by the chemical blanket of pesticides. 

“He smells like death yet he is not physically dying, he is suffering by invisible hands but mostly by his own, I can barely register his rank as Alpha…” Your diagnosis trails off as you watch doom shade over Barnes’ face and he caves in on himself, hiding in the great shadow of Rogers beside him. You shake your head with finality, “No, I dare not get any closer.” 

“So what they say about an omega’s enhanced sense of smell is true?” You look at the man they call Sam (You scent him as: Beta, crisp Madagascar vanilla, green pine needles, what you imagine a cloud tastes like; he is impeccably compassionate as proven by the scent signatures of his friends worn proudly on his skin), noticing how he is trying to deflect all the attention off of James and onto something else. 

“Some omegas are more gifted at the art of scenting than others, yes,” You confirm for the informed and observant Beta giving him an acknowledging nod, a swift but genuine dip of your chin, before continuing, “And I went to school for years to study it, so…”

Sam catches your subtle sign of respect with a bit of surprise but quickly returns the gesture by nodding back. 

“So you’re one of the gifted ones are you?” Tony remarks bluntly with no awe and very little humor in his tone. 

You almost crack a smile at how much you seem to threaten Tony now that you are showing yourself to be a more dominant omega. Of course him being the only omega surrounded by not just multiple enhanced Betas, but many super human alphas, naturally Tony would be over protective if not a little (a lot) possessive of his friends-family-nestmates-pack. The overwhelming evidence of this intangible familial intimacy (you picked up on everyone’s mixed and complimenting scent signatures the second you walked in) pollutes the very air you breathe. The aggression of his pheromones practically attacking your nose wasn’t offensive to you, it was actually rather touching. 

Society likes to boast that the Alphas are the ones that get all possessive and over protective, and while that can be true most of the time they have it backwards. Alphas tend to display their aggression or displeasure very bluntly, while omegas are more manipulate and crafty about it. It’s the omegas that you really need to watch out for.

You square off to the powerful omega and only raise an eyebrow at him. Despite his very unsubtle impatience with you, you can’t help but respect the Stark for his deep and undying love for everyone in the room. 

How lucky they all are to have each other, to be apart of such a large strong pack, you think while quickly editing yourself internally to make sure no one picked up on your slight shift of attention and thought process through your scent. You doubt anyone here could possibly catch that kind of scent signature, but the red head agent Natasha (Scented as: Alpha, burnt cinnamon, bitter green apple, crushed jasmine, pheromone levels reveal her to be of peak fitness – lethal – top of the food chain, Apex Alpha) is staring at you like she is learning the inner workings of your soul so you best over estimate just to be safe. 

 “So you decline the job?” Captain Rogers barks short tempered at you, still highly defensive of Barnes. You don’t take offense to it at all. You scented that the pair of them shared a bond that went deeper and was thicker than blood.  

You flick your gaze back to his bold protective blue one, squaring your shoulders off and meeting him straight on as your eyebrows lower in confusion. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You said you wouldn’t dare go anywhere near him.” Steve says icily like he’d very much like to take Bucky and leave. His survival instincts on high alert. Huh, maybe when you finish helping Barnes, Rogers should be your next client because even as an Alpha, he shouldn’t be emitting this amount of survival pheromones in a room full of friends and one stranger. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help him,” You explain simply to not just Rogers but Barnes and Stark and everyone present. “It’ll be a process, and I can’t guarantee anything because it’s really up to Mr. Barnes, but I can pledge to do my best to help.” 

There’s a few beats of silence as you scan everyone, scenting them and matching that smell with names as you go –

Clint: Beta, the vague smell of feathers, mint leaves, fresh churned butter

Wanda: Alpha, what you imagine stardust to smell like, ripe cherries, the taste of copper

Vision: Alpha, no defined smell other than Vibranium and strangely a hint of paprika

Thor: Alpha, the unplaceable aroma of freshly pounded metal (although you can’t determine which kind), upturned soil, and ozone

Bruce: Beta, old black ink, zing of something potently chemical, and wild grass

“I have papers for you to sign, prices to discuss, and living quarters to grant,” Tony suddenly booms, promptly interrupting your systematic scan, as he comes up to you and whips out a glass slate that lights up when he touches it. 

You take one last meaningful glance at Bucky who (is he blushing?) blatantly is avoiding everyone’s gaze by staring at his boots, him and Steve curled into each other like two worn magnets, before following Stark out of the foyer. 

Part Two

YAHTZEE! Okay lemme know what y’all think xx

[the-punforgiven]

Tagged by @skylisk-j, thanks, man!

5 things you’ll find in my bag: -Sketchbook, probably -Something food-related -Probably my jacket, if it’s above freezing temperatures, otherwise it’d be on me or a friend -Some sort of food item, like chips or something -A laptop, maybe?

5 things you’ll find in my bedroom: -At least three guitars -Shitty, unfinished props, like armour and shit (I used to be really into propmaking, but I kinda drifted away from that) -2 swords, one is metal and in terrible shape, the other’s polypropylene and a little beaten up, but better overall -A keyboard, I was gonna specify ‘for a piano’ but I just realized I’ve got both kinds here so nevermind -Like two little shelves I made a couple years ago that honestly look like shit

5 things i always wanted to do in life: -Play a show, like with a band, in front of real people. I mean, I have a hell of a lot of stage fright, but that’s still something I really, really want to do -Design and build at least one custom guitar, I’ve already got a pretty solid design already for a Claymore-inspired one that I’d absolutely love to build -Full on, no-holds-barred fight someone in full steel armour (I mean, not to the death, obviously, I mean like sparring, but intense) -Make a comic. I’ve got a lot of ideas, and I’ve got a story I’m trying to write with some friends, but I don’t think I’m ready yet, from an artistic standpoint. (I mean, it’s not like my writing’s there either, but I’m more focused on the art right now) -Save a life, since I am a horrible self-righteous prick who can’t be content unless I do that at least once 5 things I’m currently into: -For Honor -Claymore -Dark Souls -Guilty Gear -Jojo, still 5 things people might not know about me: -I’m really bad at keeping contact with people, I’m sorry if I’ve done that to anyone reading -I have never actually been in a band. Whether that’s because I don’t feel confident enough in my skills as a musician, because I almost never go outside and talk to people, or because there are only like two other musicians in my town and they’re both vocalists, is anyone’s guess -I’m lowkey really competitive, and I’m still learning to keep that in check -I will avoid any modern/postmodern setting that features the undead like the fucking plague. There has been one exception to this, and that’s just because the undead are only there for like two chapters -I’m really into stupid cheesy shit, like Kung Fury, the 60′s Batman and Ninja Slayer were extremely entertaining for me Tagging: @valenshawke, @coheed-and-canada, @pixelizedstratocaster, @pretentious-meme, and @infected-at-birth, if you guys feel like doing it, no worries if not, though