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lacontroller1991 · 3 years ago

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Burnt Skies (Rick Flag x Fem!Reader)

@h-hxgirl

Requested by Anon: Saw this captain boomerang fanfic where he finds she's pregnant while they're on mission, I was wondering if you could maybe do something similar for Rick

Author's Note: He would be so protective of the reader fr fr, also this is gonna be angst angst angst so just beware

Warning: Death, pregnancy, language, blood, major character death, spoilers

“Hey (Y/N), you ready to go?” Rick’s voice echoed through the room before he halted, seeing you on the floor, head in the toilet.

“Yeah, give me a minute,” you replied weakly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and flushing the toilet.

“Are you sure? Are you feeling alright?” He asked, rubbing your back as you looked up at him with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you there,” nodding his head, he walked out the door with guns strapped to his body on his tac vest. Looking at your reflection, you noticed a slight greenish tint to your face. Ignoring the wave of nausea, you made your way out of the base and to the plane. Walking up the ramp, you took a seat next to Rick who looked at you with concern in his brown eyes.

“Baby, maybe you should sit this one out. You aren’t looking too hot,” he whispered in your ear as you brushed the notion off. After all, you did have a really bad gut feeling about this mission.

“I’m here. I’m going,” you stated firmly as he looked you over one more time before shrugging his shoulders, knowing it was of no use to argue with you.

----------

The plane ride was hell. With the criminals being loud and Harley’s non stop chatter accompanying your periodic bouts of nausea, you were ready to get the hell off of the plane and right into combat.

“Alright guy, get ready to drop,” Rick shouted as the cargo door opened to reveal water beneath you. Once he gave the signal, you jumped into the cool water and began to swim your way to the mainland, waiting for the rest of the team to catch up to you. After everyone, save for the Weasel, had made it to the shore, you glanced over to your boyfriend who was laying next to Harley.

“Hey guys, it’s me. I’m the guy who called you and I brought my friends,” Blackguard shouted into the open, raising his hands while ignoring the shouts coming from the rest of the team and your boyfriend, Waller’s distant cursing ringing in your ear. Next thing you know, there was gunfire in every direction and things went to chaos. You quickly sought shelter behind a rock and shot off a few rounds into the woods, hoping to take down some of the Corto Maltese soldiers. “(Y/N), watch out,” Rick shouted at you as you turned to see what he was talking about, but it was too late before a large piece of debris from one of the trees knocked you out cold.

You woke up to machines attached to your body. Feeling the bile rise in your throat, you tried to get out of the restraints and look for a place to dump the contents of your stomach. Suddenly a pan was placed in front of you and that was all you needed to release the bile. Groaning at the light, you looked around the room and was surprised to see a cleanish room which plenty of nurses occupied.

“Ah good, you’re awake,” a voice commented as a rough hand pulled your head back, forcing you to look up at one of the generals you were tasked to take out.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” You asked, squirming your body against the bed, trying to loosen some of the restraints.

“Mi amore, we are treating you. Seems you have caught a parasite,” he replied before summoning the nurse over to you, carrying a plate of food and some juice, “you’re government must really be struggling if they’re sending pregnant women into the field,” he mentioned as your blood ran cold.

“That’s impossible,” muttering to yourself, your head went fuzzy at the concept of you being pregnant. With Rick’s kid.

“On the contrary, when we brought in your friend and you, we noticed certain things,” motioning down to your stomach only brought awareness to the fact that you were practically naked in a room full of the enemy.

“Let me go,” you pleaded, pulling your arms as much as you could.

“I think not,” he replied before nodding to one of the nurses who moved to turn on a machine and attach it to your head. Screams of agony soon left your lips, blocking out the sudden spurts of gunfire in the halls.

----------

Harley laughed maniacally as she gunned down multiple soldiers, enjoying the way they were dropping to the floor. She needed to get out of there. She needed to find the others. After the last one dropped to the floor, she moved toward the door before hearing a piercing scream echo down the hallway.

“Sounds like someone’s having fun,” she ran her tongue against her teeth before skipping toward the scream. Slamming open the door, she raised the guns in her hand, ready to fire, until she saw you laying on the table surrounded by nurses.

“No one messes with Flag’s girl,” she muttered to herself before unloading the magazine in the room. All of the nurses slinked to the ground, covered in a pool of their own blood. Rushing over to you, Harley unstrapped the restraints and head piece before taking out the IV and looked for your clothes.

“Where the hell are ya clothes?” She asked, searching high and low before she found a bag filled with your bloody uniform. Helping you sit up, she noted the way you looked super frail but practically glowing at the same time.

“Harley,” you whispered out to her before passing out on her shoulder. “Awww, this would be really cute if not for the circumstances,” she stated out loud to herself, peering out of the window and seeing a guy in a helmet run across the street with Flag. Wait a minute, Flag! Running out the door, she ran around the corner before stopping in front of the two men.

“Hiya guys! What’s up?”

“We’re here to save you, is (Y/N) with you?” Rick asked with hope in his voice as Harley nodded, wrapping pale fingers around his wrist and dragging him back inside and through the pile of bodies she had claimed. At the sight of you, Rick ran to your side and hugged your limp body.

“What’s wrong with her?” He asked, fighting the tears that were beginning to surface.

“Don’t worry puddin’, she’s just asleep,” shrugging her shoulders, she left the room as you stirred, fluttering your eyes open.

“Rick?” You questioned as he rapidly nodded his head, placing kisses all along your face.

“Thank God you’re ok. I thought I lost you.”

“Rick, the doctors found something,” memories of the conversation you had moments ago replayed in your brain. You’re pregnant.

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered, mind still not comprehending the fact that you were pregnant. After all, you had been infertile most of your life. Avoiding his gaze, you waited for his response.

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m going to be a dad,” he whispered, causing your head to snap up and see a smile play against his face.

“You want this? I don’t know if it’ll carry to term. You know that I’m infertile.” Placing his lips against yours, he pulled you into his arms, hugging you as close as he could to his body. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed back before a throat clearing interrupted you.

“This is sweet and all, but we have a fucking monster to kill,” DuBois stated as you looked up at Rick who smiled.

“Stay here, I’ll come back and get you.”

“I’m not leaving your side,” you replied as he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re pregnant. No way in living hell am I gonna allow you to do this. You’ll stay here and that’s an order,” you and he both hated when he had to pull his rank, but you realized it was necessary in cases like this.

“Just come back to me,” pulling his lips down against yours for what feels like the last time, you encoded this moment into your brain, remembering the way he tasted.

“For you? Always.”

----------

He should’ve known you were going to follow them into Jotunheim. Not only were you stubborn, but you still had that nagging feeling that something was going to happen. Sneaking past the military, you found a window and busted it open with your elbow before entering the building. Landing with a soft thud, you looked around the room and noticed Peacemaker going down a dark tunnel. Running after him, you made sure to stay hidden by the numerous pillars. Peering around the corner, you saw Ratcatcher standing next to Rick, however Peacemaker was pointing a gun at Rick.

“Nobody is saying what they did was right,” Peacemaker stated, hand unwavering.

“They experimented on children!” Rick yelled as more explosions went off in the distance.

“That information gets out and it causes an international incident. Keeping the peace is worth any price, including the life of a hero like yours, sir, so please. Don’t make me do this,” your stomach churned. You knew that Captain America wannabe was no good, and now your love might just pay the price. Suddenly, rocks collapsed all around you, obscuring your view of Rick and Peacemaker.

“No,” you whispered to yourself, picking up rocks and trying to make a hole for you to get your body through. Your efforts became faster the more you heard the two men grunting. After successfully digging a hole big enough for you, you crawled through as you heard something like porcelain shatter and choking.

“You mother fucker,” Rick stated through gritted teeth as you watched in slow motion, Peacemaker’s hand grasping a large shard.

“Rick!” You shouted out before tackling him off Christopher’s body, not getting out of the way soon enough as Peacemaker lodged the porcelain into your lower abdomen. “No!” Rick shouted as Peacemaker threw you off. In the distance somewhere, you heard a gun go off before hands wrapped around your body. “(Y/N)? (Y/N)?” Rick called to you but you couldn’t hear him, your mind venturing off.

----------

The sun lit your face through the blinds, dancing in your eyes and creating a multitude of hues, a warm body pressed against you.

“Morning sweetheart,” voice deep from slumber, Rick rubbed his eyes as he let out a yawn. Stretching in bed before your 5 year old daughter came running into the room.

“Mommy, daddy. It’s Christmas!” She squealed excitedly, waking up the baby that was next door.

“Yeah it is baby, you excited for your presents?” You asked as she rapidly nodded while Rick slid out of the bed.

“I’ll go grab little Digger,” he commented, kissing your forehead and your daughter’s head. Getting up, you went to grab a coffee before the doorbell rang. Moving to open it, you saw Harley’s painted face waiting for you with Nanaue, Cleo, Robert and Abner carrying presents.

“Merry Christmas dollface,” she exclaimed, pulling you in for a hug before running off to see her god daughter.

“Come in guys,” you motioned for them to enter as Rick rounded the corner, your 10 month old in his arms.

“So this is the little guy, huh?” Cleo asked as Sebastian waved a hand at the newborn, earning giggles from the baby.

“Yep, Digger Anthony Flag, meet your family,” Rick lifted up the baby’s arm, making him wave to everyone.

“I’m proud of you guys,” Robert commented, slapping a hand on Rick’s back as everyone shuffled into the living room, Nanaue taking up most of the space.

“Thanks man, it wouldn't have happened without you.”

“Alright, everyone ready for presents?” You asked the room with Harley by your side, Harleen in her arms. Rick placed Digger in Cleo’s arms before walking up to you and bringing you into his side.

“I love you, Mrs. Flag.”

“And I you, Mr. Flag.”

----------

Groaning, you felt an excruciating pain in your abdomen and a feeling of loss?

“(Y/N), baby, you’re awake,” his tired voice resonated in your ear as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, his hand not leaving yours.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” you commented as he sniffled, trying to suppress the tears that threatened to escape.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he noted, petting your hair and placing another kiss on your forehead.

“And leave our kid without a father? I don’t think...”, realization dawned on you at that moment. The sudden feeling of loss and the pain in that general area washed over you as you began crying. “Oh God, the baby is gone, isn’t it?” You asked through tears as he let a couple slip down his face, nodding and trying to smile through the pain. Choking back a sob, you turned your face away from him as tears continued to fall.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, squeezing your hand. Shaking your head, you refused to meet his hazel eyes, “(Y/N), look at me.” Turning your head, your eyes locked onto his as he continued to smooth down your hair.

“We’re alive. We’re both alive. That’s all that matters,” he replied, crawling into the hospital bed with you and pulling you against his chest as you cried into his shirt.

“What if I never get pregnant again?”

“We will. I’ll make sure of it. I’m done with the fucking task force. Waller can find someone else to puppet. But I’m done. You’re done. We’re gonna get married and have a nice house. I’ll get a new job and we’ll figure it out. I promise.” Kissing the top of your head, he wrapped his arms around you as you calmed down.

“I love you,” you whispered against his chest as he hugged you closer.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Author’s Note: Well this was way longer than I intended it to be. But hope you enjoy!!

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callmeshakespurr · 3 years ago

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Hey, if you're requests are open could you do a Rick Flag × Male Villian Reader (fluff) idk something cute where Rick Flag ends up falling in love with Male Reader, and the feeling is mutual. Idk you can fo what you want with it. ❤

Rick Flag x Male Reader

Requested: yes

Category: fluff, just a little bit of angst

Warnings: slight torture (?), i mention a knife like,, once

Note: I haven’t watched Suicide Squad in some time, so this could’ve turned out just the tiniest bit yandere, I hope you don’t mind! Also- I kinda struggled with this cause its my first time writing an actual one shot, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways (:

Tysm for requesting, hope you enjoy it <3

“Where is he?”, Amanda Waller called out as she walked down the hallway, towards the high security room you were currently kept in — Colonal Richard ‘Rick’ Flag not far behind her.

Her call grabbed the attention of the two guards, who stood in front of your cell.

“Is he in there?”, Amanda asked again, approaching the door with fast steps. One of the guards nodded and opened the thick metal door to let the director and the colonel in.

Amanda Waller had tried to get her hands on you for almost five years now, after you first made an apperiance in a club, killing two people. After that, several assassinations followed. Nobody knew who you exactly were, what you looked like, who you worked for; you were like a shadow — what people then came to call you, Shadow.

The major reason of why nobody could get a hold of you even in the slightest bit, was because you always vanished before anybody could even spot you.

After two years of not being able to catch you, the police gave up on further investigation in your cases. Amanda didn’t break so easily though. She wanted you in one of those cells she kept so many freaks in already, and she wasn’t going to give up until she had you sitting behind one of those metal doors, unable to escape her.

After all these years of going after you, she did manage to find out two major things about you. Why you always managed to escape without anyone catching a glimpse of you, and what your weakness was.

All these things led to the present situation.

You sat in a dark room, the only light source being a small lamp, dangling from the ceiling. Your ankles were tightly cuffed to the chair you were sitting on, on your wrists and neck you felt something cold and heavy, which seemed to send small electric shocks through your body every few seconds.

You weren’t sure where you exactly were, since you passed out before they got you. Hell, you didn’t even know who ‘they’ were.

You closed your eyes, trying to concentrate on your thoughts, which was not as easy as you hoped it would be. To say that you were in pain was an understatement. The electricity flowing through your body kept you from thinking straight, and send a wave of pure pain through your limbs with every shock you got.

A female voice ripped you from your trance, and you slowly opened your eyes again, head still hanging low. You knew that voice and you knew that you didn’t stand a chance anymore.

“Your powers won’t work anymore, unless i allow you to use them, so don’t even try.”, that voice belonged to none other than Amanda Waller, probably the only person on this planet you actually feared. You were never scared of what her minions could do to you, no. You were scared of what she could do to you if she ever managed to get you — which almost happened on several occasions.

You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the pain that came over you again, as you frantically tried to somehow sort your thoughts and find a way out of this, but nothing seemed to work. There was no way out of this. There was no escaping this. The feeling of helplessness washed over you, a feeling you didn’t like at all.

“You’re Y/N L/N, you’re a teleporter, thats how you managed to always vanish before the police got to the crime scene”, Amanda spoke, watching you as you sat there on the chair, staring at the ground, unable to move a single muscle. “It took me some time, but i managed to figure out how to block your powers”, she continued, taking slow steps towards you “Teleporters are extremely sensitive to electricity, some mightve even already died due to the constant pain if they were in your place.” She stopped right in front of you, looking down at your slumped figure, the only thing restraining you from falling over being the thick metallic handcuffs that kept your hands tied behind the chair.

Amanda grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at her. Your sight was blurry and it cost you a lot of strength to even keep your eyes open, but you did manage to make out the silhouette of a rather tall person standing at the entrance of the cell, watching the whole scene, before your focus was back on the woman in front of you. “You’re actually a very pretty boy, Y/N, and very smart too, it’s a shame that you decided to end up like this.”, she said, before letting your face go. “Rick, take him to get the injection, then get his things and introduce him to the team. After that, you can take him to his provided cell.”

The man standing at the door — Rick, you assumed — made his way towards you, as Waller left the room, leaving you to the colonel.

Rick helped you out of the cuffs, that kept you strapped to the chair. Looking at you, he almost felt bad, you looked so drained and helpless. He had never exactly agreed with anything Amanda Waller did, but seeing what just a few hours under her control did with you was another level of not agreeing with something she did.

“Can you stand?”, the colonel asked and you nodded, slowly rising from the chair. Your legs wobbled beneath your weight and you instinctively grabbed onto whats next to you, which just so happened to be Ricks Arm.

After making sure you had gathered enough strength, he began to walk with you towards the door.

time skip

It’s been a little over a week now since they’ve brought you here — you think. Every day was the same. Sitting on the cold floor of your cell, staring at the camera in the corner of your ceiling, some guard bringing you food, you not eating it, some guard taking it away again and reporting everything to someone, more staring at the camera, someone bringing you food again, you not eating it again, the guard taking it away again and reporting everything, all over again, everyday.

The only slightest bit good and entertaining thing was the colonel — Rick Flag, as you learned was his name — checking up on you every now and then when he didn’t have anything better to do. You didn’t quite understand why Rick was making efforts to look after you, just for you to not answer his questions anyways, but you appreciated it. It made everything a little more bearable.

Of course, you were one of the bad guys, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t have a life outside of assassinations.

When you weren’t working for other bad guys, you loved to just sit in your apartment and read, you loved to go onto high buildings and watch over the city. You dreamed of leaving everything behind and exploring the world someday. You worked at your favourite coffee shop, hell you even had a cat. The thought of your only friend being probably already dead or suffering made you sad, but what could you do about it?

Sometimes, you wish you hadn’t picked the path you were on, but looking back at the time you chose to work for the bad guys, you didn’t really have a choice.

Your train of thoughts was interrupted, when you heard the door to your cell open. Hoping it would be Rick, you looked up, your eyes only half open from the lack of strength you had. What you did not expect was to see Amanda Waller standing in front of you, Rick Flag behind her.

“Stand up”, the woman demanded. You listened, as it was of no use to resist her orders. You slowly got up on your feet, which didn’t last long, since you almost immediately fell over, landing painfully hard on your knees. To your suprise, Rick immediately rushed to your side, helping you stand up again.

“I don’t need him on missions like this”, Waller spoke as she watched you lean onto Rick for support. “Take him to the base, the council and I will be waiting there in the meeting room for him.” With that, Waller left again.

The way to the car wasn’t long, but with you almost not being able to stand on you own, let alone walk on your own, it took a little longer, which only fueled your anxiety. The ride to the base was even worse though, since nobody talked and you had five guards sitting around you.

Finally arriving at the door of the meeting room, which was located in the base, the two guards standing in front of it immediately opened the door as soon as they saw the colonel.

The room was quiet at an instance, when you stepped a food inside, Rick following very close behind you — just in case something should happen.

Amanda Waller stood in front of a group of suit wearing men who all sat at one big round table, most likely discussing something. She gestured you to come next to her, to which you complied.

“And who is this now, Director Waller? A new addition to your group of- freaks?”, asked one of the men as he looked you up and down, probably doubting that someone like you could be much of an good asset.

“This, Gentlemen,”, she grabbed your arm and moved you a little forward, making you almost tumble “is Y/N L/N or ‘Shadow’, he was an assassin for almost five years now, working for several other bad guys. Nobody got a hold of him till now due to his teleporting ability. He has over a hundred confirmed kills and not once did anyone ever get near him. I’m using these electric cuffs”, she grabbed your arm again and lifted it up to present the metal cuff, which was secured around your arm “to block his powers, which means he cannot teleport, as long as the electric shocks are on full power. As soon as I turn down the power a little, he can use his power, it is more draining and limited to a certain radius, but it works. I have him under full control and I want him on the team.” Murmurs broke out between the people in the room, as soon as she finished.

“I’m sorry, director, but do you really think it’s a good idea to put another- another misfit on that team? They’re bad guys and will always stay bad guys, and their freaky abilities make them even more dangerous.”, one of the men in suits spoke.

“As I said, I have him under full control, gentlemen. Let me demonstrate.”, Amanda spoke, turning to you, as the people sitting at the table sat back.

Waller took out some kind of remote and tapped on something. First your body tensed due to all the stress and pain you were under at the moment, but as soon as Amanda tapped on the remote, the electric shocks suddenly weren’t as intense as they were before, and your whole body relaxed, your eyes almost watering due to the wave of relief washing over you.

Rick was more than tense while watched the whole situation, only realizing in how much pain you actually were when Waller turned down the intensity of the electric shocks emmitting from the metallic cuffs you were wearing.

Waller looked you in the eyes with a serious expression on her face. “You disobey, you die, got that?” And suddenly you remembered the injection they gave you, when they first brought you here.

Seeing you had no other choice than obeying her, you simply gave her a small nod and looked around the room, taking in every detail. You looked at the small table in front of you, spotting a sharp knife, which you figured was put there by Amanda specifically for you in this exact situation.

With fast movements, you grabbed the knife and teleported to the other side of the room, holding the knife to one of the mens throat. Everyone in the room stiffened even more, and you heard at least three guns clicking.

Looking up, your eyes met Rick’s, before you looked over to Waller, who was already fixated on you. You slowly pressed the knife more against the man’s throat, wanting to see what Waller was going to do. The next electric shock came and you almost yelled out in pain, letting the knife fall, teleporting back to Waller and falling to your knees, clutching the metal around your neck.

Rick wanted to rush to help you, but was quickly held back by Amanda, gesturing him to wait.

“As you can see, I can control his powers however i want to, and should he disobey in any way, or should his powers bolt”, she tilted your head with her finger, than pressed onto the spot on your neck where they injected you, “he dies.”

Still staring at the ground, you swallowed harshly. You’ve never wanted to go back in time and undo all the bad things that happened so badly like in this specific moment. Maybe if you’re parents hadn’t ever found about your ability, you would still be at home, with your family, not here, being tortured by some government lady who wanted to use you as a weapon.

“There’s one more thing. I don’t need him on any mission in this shape. He needs to recover, quickly, and while doing so, I want him under Rick Flags complete supervision. It might cost a little more effort, but think about of how much use he will be for us”, Amanda said, a mischievous expression crossing her face for a few seconds, that going unnoticed by you and pretty much everyone else in the room.

time skip

Three whole months had passed. You’ve been staying with Rick ever since Amanda Waller announced that he had to fully supervise you.

The time you spent with Rick made you feel as if everything wasn’t so bad after all. Occasional talking here and there, Rick cooking something for the both of you every now and then, you almost felt normal again — weren’t there the electric cuffs reminding you of what was real every few minutes.

Over the past three months, your sleep only got worse. You got used to the constant pain by now, but the electricity didn’t only affect you physically, it also messed up your thoughts like hell. Sometimes you didn’t know where up and down was anymore, everything was all over the place inside your mind.

That was also the reason, you were up right now, in the middle of the night, sitting at the big window in your bedroom, looking over the city. You hugged your knees tightly to your chest, and rested you chin on them, letting a few tears slip. You hadn’t cried in a long time, but you were just so exhausted. You were never this close to giving up than right now. Nothing seemed to ever be okay again, you couldn’t do anything but accept your fate.

Being to entangled in your own thoughts, you didn’t hear your bedroom door open.

It didn’t take Rick a long time to spot you in your place at the window. He just came home from a mission that Amanda Waller had wanted you on, but Rick insisted on giving you a little more time to deal with everything.

The tall man closed the door as quietly as he could behind him, which seemed to not be quiet enough, since you jumped slightly at the noise, quickly standing up and turning around. Rick gave you an apologetic look, before slowly walking towards you, “I’m sorry, I should’ve knocked, I just wanted to check up on you and see if you’re alright-“ “It’s fine, I’m fine”, you interrupted him, wiping your tears quickly, taking a deep breath.

Rick frowned, he had never seen you cry before. He cared too much for you and he knew it, he just couldn’t help himself. Stopping in front of you, he looked down at you, only for his eyes to meet yours. For a moment, you both got lost in each others eyes, before you ripped your gaze away, looking to the side.

“Do you want anything else from me?”, you asked shakily, getting a little nervous with his burning stare on you.

“I actually do, yes-“, he hesitated for a moment. You looked up at him with a questioning expression. “Close your eyes”, you complied, closing your eyes slightly, one hand moving to hold onto Rick’s shirt so you didn’t lose your balance. You felt him lean down slightly, till you could fell his warm breath on your cheek. You surpressed a shiver, as he carefully tilted your head.

Now, you didn’t really know what to expect; you and Rick had gotten closer but you weren’t sure, if there were actual romantic feelings, or if he just pitied you, so a kiss wasn’t exactly what you expected. But you definitely would’ve expected it more than what happened next.

A small ‘click’ echoed through the dark room, the next thing you knew was, that all the pain suddenly disappeared. Your eyes watered when you felt Rick’s fingers carefully removing the heavy metallic cuffs around your wrists and neco, pure relief washing over you. Your leaned your body onto Rick’s, unable to support your own weight for a few moments.

When you had finally gained control over your own body again, you moved back a few centimetres and looked up to Rick, who met your confused eyes. “I couldn’t bear to see you in so much pain any longer, so I triedmy best to convince her and I’d say I’m lucky that she trusts me with you.”, the colonel smiled a little, raising a hand to softly carress your cheek. Your eyes widened. He quickly removed his hand again and apologized, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

Rick took a step back, still being careful so you didn’t lose balance again, “I should go, and you should sleep, you need to be well rested and-“

You were fast to interrupt him by taking a quick step towards him, getting a little on your tiptoes, before pressing a small kiss to Rick’s lips. You carefully looked him in the eyes again, “I don’t know either, but it just felt like the right thing to do.”

It took the man a few seconds to process what just happened, but when he did, he was quick to kiss you again, his soft lips over yours, moving slowly, as you kissed back. He put his hands on your waist, while you locked yours behind his neck. You kissed for a few moments, before the both of you had to breathe again. “Thank you”, you whispered against Rick’s lips, before receiving another small peck. “Sleep with me tonight?”, he asked quietly, getting lost in your eyes again. You gave him a small nod, allowing him to pick you up and carry you to his room, both of you smiling as you fell onto the mattress.

#suicide squad #rick flag #y/n #rick flag x male reader #male reader

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acourtofsnakes · 4 years ago

Text

Returning The Favour - Bucky Barnes x F! Reader part 2 (smut)

Summary: After one hell of a day, you decide to help Bucky relax, and to repay the favour from a few nights ago.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut ahead! Oral/blowjob – M receiving, hand job – m receiving, swearing/cursing, p in v sex (unprotected) – doggy style, face sitting, cowgirl, just pure filth, tbh.

Smut under the cut!!

Word count: 4.5k+

A/n: A little bit of body positivity added in here too. You are all beautiful, and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise

A/N: This is part 2 of A Helping Hand, but as there isn’t much of a plot (aside from the smut. I mean, c’mon), it can also be read as a standalone!! It touches briefly on the plot of FATWS, but nothing really detailed.

Permanet Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood

Part 1

A few weeks had passed by since that night Bucky had devoured you, tearing your soul to pieces and burning through you like wildfire.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about it… and hadn’t stopped thinking about him.

His hands on your body, searing lines into your skin, one hot and one cold.

The drag of his tongue inside your walls, letting you ride his face whilst the world crashed down through you.

His hand, that damned vibranium hand fucking you into oblivion.

God, you needed him. You needed more of him, all of him. You wanted him to tear you apart again and knit you back together with his lips and his tongue.

You wanted him to feel the same release you had the same earth-shattering pleasure.

You’d tried to calm the fire by using your own fingers and toys, but no matter how much you replayed that night in your head – in perfect clarity – it just wasn’t the same anymore.

Your toys, which you had spent a hell of a lot of money on… just didn’t do it. They weren’t enough.

They weren’t… him.

You couldn’t concentrate on your work, earning you more disapproval from Fury and he even asked you what the hell was going on and would you mind keeping your thoughts on the job, not on whatever was making you zone into space for twenty minutes straight with that look on your face.

Luckily, you had managed to escape anymore of Nick’s wrath, by tagging along with Bucky as he went to help Sam, who was engaged in trying to take down a group of rebels called the Flag Smashers.

You’d arrived to help him and the three of you set about doing what you could, also whilst trying to avoid John Walker, who had been rebranded as the new Captain America.

Touchy subject. Best not to go there.

Anyway, back on the case of the Flag Smashers. They were being supplied with Super soldier serum from someone called the Power Broker, and the boys were at a loose end as to how to learn more.

Well of course, there was one person who was the most knowledgeable about the serum.

Helmut Zemo, a Sokovian villain who looked like he’d walk straight out of a film about British spies, fast cars and imaginative villains.

You knew Bucky’s past with him, of course.

You had fought alongside the others when Zemo triggered Bucky into becoming the Winter Soldier again.

So, you had to admit you were surprised when you learned that Bucky himsef had ‘hypothetically’ given Zemo the way out of his German prison.

Plans had been made, which is how tonight, you’d found yourself in Madripoor, each of you posing as a different persona.

Sam was to be the ‘Smiling Tiger.”

You were Zemo’s… acquaintance. His “Little Bird” he’d called you – much to Bucky’s frustration. At first, you thought it was simply because Zemo was… well, he was a ‘bad guy’.

But as the night wore on, you noticed the looks Bucky shot the pair of you, his jaw clenching every single time Zemo’s hand brushed your waist, or he pressed his nose to your hair.

The Baron didn’t touch you in any way you hadn’t already discussed, and you were comfortable but… the icy glint in Bucky’s eye, the tightening of his mouth when you asked him what was wrong, and he stayed silent…

Something more was going on. More than just the role he was required to play.

Bucky was be the Winter Soldier again. The very man he tried so desperately to escape from, the man who’s actions he was still trying to make amends for.

You’d had to watch him play the Soldier all night, watch the tension build and build in the clenched muscle of his jaw, in the hard line of his shoulders and the tight prowl in his walk.

Which was why, after escaping a fight and getting a little banged up yourself, you were looking into the mirror in your hotel room, adjusting the straps of the lingerie set you had slipped into.

Okay, so maybe it was cliché.

But Bucky had had one hell of a night. You could practically feel the tension rolling off of him from his hotel room opposite your own.

You still had a favour to repay him, so why not go all out? He deserved it.

Besides, you had spent a long time working up the confidence to look into the mirror and be happy and proud of what you saw, instead of feeling the need to change.

You were proud of yourself and needed no-one else’s approval.

But it didn’t mean it wasn’t rewarding to hear.

Especially from a man with a wicked jawline and killer baby-blues.

With one final shake of your hair, you pulled on your silky robe, padding to the door of your hotel room and you slipped into the cool hallway. Goosebumps rose on your skin as you moved across the plush carpet, knocking on Bucky’s door.

Thank the lords, saints, old-gods and the new that Zemo was a Baron. This hotel was expensive, luxurious and did not have that funky smell that most hotels seemed to have.

The rooms were lavish and richly decorated, the bathroom dripping with taste and money and the bed… well. The bed was certainly big enough for what you had in mind tonight.

You were thoroughly determined to wreck the neatly folded covers.

A few moments later, you heard footsteps and then the door opened. Those eyes greeted you, though they were deeper, like the colour of the sea in a storm.

Bucky tilted his head, one hand braced on the door to open it, frowning slightly when he saw you. It was late after all. “Is everything alright, doll?” He peered down the hallway, like he was looking for threats.

You shook your head lightly, “Nothing’s wrong, Bucky…” Lifting your eyes to his through your lashes, you moved your hands to the front of your robe, “I just thought I’d return the favour. And help you relax…”

At your honeyed tone, at the movement in your hands, Bucky went rigid. Less in a tense way, more in anticipation. His eyes zeroed in on your hands, watching as you undid the sash and let the silk robe fall open, baring your body to him.

Clad in gorgeous lace and delicate fabric of your favourite colour, the lingerie clung to the shape of your body, flaunting it and accentuating every beautiful line.

Oh, it had so been worth the small fortune it cost.

You were glad you had purchased more.

The door creaked, wood protesting as his vibranium arm gripped it. Bucky’s pupils dilated, black blotting out the blue as he raked his eyes over every inch of you. It wasn’t creepy or possessive. It was… worshipping. Awestruck.

You had him in the palm of your already.

Soon, it would be physically.

“Are you going to let me in, Buck? There’s so many ways I could help you relax…” You let the robe slip off of your shoulders, leaving you incredibly bare in the middle of the very open hallway, in the very expensive, reputable hotel.

But you didn’t care.

Not with the way his Arctic eyes had deepened to the colour of cobalt, searing into you with the same fire that he had consumed with the other night.

Not as he stood back, letting you in and following every single movement you made, the sway of your hips, the feline smile gracing your lips as you sashayed past him. He was enraptured by you, rendered helpless by the mere sight of you.

You saw his hands clench just before he turned to shut the door, like he was stopping himself from pulling you into his body and shredding the scraps of lace and velvet that were a barrier to your gorgeous skin and curves.

The door snicked shut softly, shutting you both off from the rest of the world.

You turned to face Bucky, extending your hand to him, “Come here.” You kept that honey rich tone, but you had no need to raise your voice, because Bucky had moved before the words even left your mouth.

He slid his left hand into yours, the vibranium cool against the warmth of your skin. It was welcome, for you were burning an inferno inside that you were hiding very, very well. In fact, you were already wet, since the moment you slipped that lingerie on and saw your refection in the mirror.

You pressed your lips to the back of Bucky’s hand, saying with movement what you knew he wouldn’t believe in words.

That it was beautiful, strong… an extension of the graceful, deadly power that he had honed. You were never, ever afraid of it. Not even tonight, when he was playing the Soldier. Not even when he was the Soldier.

Lifting your eyes to his, you let your tongue dart out, tracing along the golden grooves in the plates of dark vibranium.

Fuck, the mere taste of the cool metal brought you back to that night.

You moaned a little in the back of your throat, appreciatively and flattened your tongue over his knuckles, bringing his fingers into your mouth and sucking on them delicately, just as you had before. Except this time, it was you in charge.

Bucky twitched, in every sense of the word. The plates of his arm clicked just faintly, like he was restraining himself even as a soft growl rumbled in the base of his chest. The sight of you sucking on his fingers again only made his jeans even more uncomfortable and he longed to feel your hot wet tongue on his skin. Every single inch of his skin.

His own hand wasn’t enough anymore, especially not after that night. It had been near painful for him when he left, and he’d barely made it back to his own room before his hand was jamming into his boxers and he fucked his own palm until he was crying your name through gritted teeth.

Never before had he felt such an urge to have feeling in his left hand, to feel your walls clench around him as you fell apart above him.

It was like you could read his mind.

You slipped off of his fingers with a small pop, a wicked gleam in your eyes as you dropped your hands to his belt buckle. Seconds later, you were undoing the zipper to his jeans, wasting no time in looping your fingers into both the waistband of his jeans, and the band of his boxers.

You pulled them slowly down, lower and lower past his hips until his heavy swollen cock sprung free.

Holy fucking shit.

He was huge.

Thick and smooth, the head already swollen and leaking.

You wanted to taste him.

You wanted him down your throat and buried inside you every single way until you could feel nothing but him, think of nothing but him.

Forcing back your impatience, you slowly lowered, pulling his jeans down until they reached his ankles, and you were on your knees before him.

Looking up through your eyelashes, you saw his head tilted down to watch you, is chin touching his chest. Those ridiculous eyes were fiercely burning, and his full, plush lips had parted in an effort to suck in more air.

Oh, you were going to wreck him.

You rose up a little higher, pressing your lips to the patch of neatly trimmed curls before following a trail lower, and then dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock, over that swollen vein that made you positively feral.

Bucky’s hands flew into your hair, a barely restrained groan rising from his chest and he muttered, “Shit – shit.”

Barely able to restrain the grin, you darted your tongue into the tiny slit, gathering that little bead of precum and then you took him into your mouth, inch by inch.

Fucking hell.

He was heavy, hot in your mouth and the velvety feel of his skin against your tongue and teeth was something you might just have died to feel again.

You kept him still for a second, really wanting to draw this out for him – and because the weight of him against your jaw was sending floods of pleasure between your thighs and you knew the expensive lace of your underwear was already drenched.

Bucky twitched, both inside your mouth and out and he tugged a little on your hair, “Baby, you gotta move – please, move.”

Had this been a normal game you were playing; you might have let him suffer a little longer. But this was about relaxing him, about making him feel better so you granted him his wish and began to bob your head up and down.

His soft moans were a symphony to your ears, a song you quickly learned the rhythm of as you moved faster, hollowing your cheeks now and then so he felt the drag of your wet, warm cheeks.

His moans turned into curses when you reached up to toy with his balls, massaging them just slightly as you dragged your lower teeth against the vein.

He jerked forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat suddenly, “Fuck, sorry baby, I didn’t mean to-“

His apologies were almost stammered, but you swiftly cut him off with a sinful moan.

The mere feel of him, the pressure of him pushing against your throat nearly made you explode there and then.

Your eyes rolled back slightly, hips rocking against nothing by instinct and fingers digging into his thighs.

Bucky swore softly under his breath, his voice nothing more than a broken whisper, “You – you liked that?”

Nodding around him, you pulled all the way off briefly, “Yes.” You gasped the word, pumping him with your hand a few times before taking him in your mouth again, sucking him with all the force of someone eating a five-star meal.

You devoured him, setting a relentless pattern of kitten licks, hollowing your cheeks and licking that throbbing vein. You let him brush the back of your throat a few times, never gagging, only crying out with pleasure at the press of him.

And Bucky’s moans… God, you could forgo music for the rest of your life and listen only to those noises his made.

Wanting more, more of those delicious moans and growls from him, you relaxed the muscles in your throat, pushing him down all the way until your nose was once again brushing his curls.

It was hard to distinguish your moan from his, the way his hands yanked hard in your hair, your fingers digging into his ass cheeks to force him deeper down your throat. You took a deep breath in through your nose, moaning at the heady scent of him as it pervaded your sense.

More, - you wanted to take him deeper and deeper until you couldn’t speak tomorrow without feeling him there.

You slid a hand down, grasping his balls once again and you palmed them, massaging and tugging them as you shook your head lightly against him, making him rock against your windpipe.

“Fuck!” Bucky’s head tilted back, his rough moan bouncing off the elaborately decorated walls and his legs trembled, signalling how close he was, how thoroughly you were hauling him toward that edge.

You felt his balls tighten in your hand, felt how close he was so you squeezed them harder and at the same time, swallowed around the thick length of him.

A broken version of your name echoed above your, both of his hands tightening in your hair so fiercely, you feared he might snap a bone. “Shit, shit-” His hips jerked forward and then he shattered apart, exploding in hot ropes down your throat.

You heard him mutter an apology, but you didn’t care, you couldn’t care because he tasted divine.

You drew back slowly, pumping him a few times with your free hand until he was gasping in a ragged breath, his legs threatening to give way, so with a gentle judge, you pushed him back on the bed.

He plopped down weakly, watching with wide eyes as you lifted your head, wiping the corner of your mouth with a feline grin. “Sweetheart, that was-“

A finger to his lips cut him off, “Oh, no no. I’m not done with you yet, Buck.” You quickly rid him of his shirt, revealing the broad plane of his shoulders and chest and then you urged him up the bed. As he lay back, you climbed on top of him, rising up on your knees. “I believe you made me come… three times was it?”

And that was when James Buchanan Barnes whimpered. A sound of pure carnal need and anticipation.

You grinned at him, reaching behind your chest to unclasp the delicate bra, before sliding it from your shoulders and throwing it to the side of the room. “I intend to repay the favour, and then some, Soldier.” You reached down for both his hands, placing them on your breasts. One warm, one icy cold.

Both your moans echoed in tandem, especially when he tightened his hands, squeezing and pulling at the soft flesh. “So beautiful…” He mumbled the words lowly, his voice a rough rasp and his ministrations caused you to arch your back further into his touch, allowing yourself a moment of pleasure.

But not for too long, because you soaked through the lace of your underwear, and you might well have been dripping down your thigh at this point. Dropping a hand, you moved your underwear to the side, before gliding your fingers through your glistening folds.

Yep, you were right.

“All of this is for you, Bucky. Because of how good you tasted in my mouth.” You moaned delicately, eyelashes fluttering as you circled your clit a few times, “How thick you were in my throat.” You gathered some of your wetness on your fingertips, before pressing them to Bucky’s lips, “See...”

He wasted no time in drawing your fingers into his mouth, dragging his teeth along the skin and cleaning every single millimetre. He seemed determined to pay you back, to try and make you feel some of the desperation he had felt.

You let it go, only because the combination of his hands pulling at your nipples and his hot tongue sliding between your fingers. You lowered down, resting over his already hardened length before dragging up and down it a few times, coating him in your slick. Low moans came from your throat, your eyes fluttering closed as you rocked yourself against him, waiting for him to recover for round two.

He soon groaned around your fingers, earning you a muffled, “Baby.” In an impatient tone as he twitched underneath you, hard and throbbing again.

Fine, you could give in.

You grasped his cock, before rising up and then lowering back down, taking him in.

Every single damn inch of him.

The stretch of your walls was painfully delicious, making you throw your head back and cry out softly, a low keen until you were seated on his thighs again. He was buried to the hilt inside of you and you could feel him everywhere. In your belly, in your toes, in your spine even.

Bucky’s back arched off of the bed, teeth clamping down on your fingers and his hands tightening on your breasts, before falling to your thighs where his fingertips dug into the soft flesh, “Fucking hell.” He gasped in a breath, lowering his head, “Look at me.”

The words were choked as you dropped your chin, meeting his eyes and the look int hem nearly floored you.

Near midnight blue with desire and lust, but they glinted like the night sky, full of admiration and… adoration of you. Complete and utter adoration.

Shit.

You stayed where you were for a second, speechless from the look of unbarred emotion on his face as the pair of you adjusted. Bucky soon swallowed, croaking again, “Move, darlin’ – please, move.”

Well, you didn’t need telling twice.

You rose up off him a few inches, before dropping back down with enough force to sear your spine in half. You quickly set an earth-shattering pace, rising up before sinking back down, his hips rising to meet you and push that little bit further inside.

Once again, the room filled with the scent of sex, the symphony of your bodies gliding with each other, mixed with Bucky’s rough moans and mutterings and your keening cries.

His hands grasped your hips, tight enough to bruise even with his right hand, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be marked, you wanted to feel him tomorrow.

And you wanted to mark him too.

You dropped down over his body, bringing him for a messy, deep kiss that was all stroking tongues and teeth.

He groaned into your mouth when you rotated your hips around him, this new angle causing your clit to drag against his firm muscles and rough curls.

The sensation was absolutely mind-blowing, and you dragged your mouth from his to bite at his jaw and neck, swearing against his hot skin, “Fucking hell, Bucky, you feel so good. You have no idea how good you feel – filling me up. So big-” The words were stumbly, broken sentences but you knew he understood them because he matched them.

Telling you how tight you were, how deep you were taking him. How good you looked fucking yourself and taking what you deserved – it was all yours.

You soon felt the pressure build in your lower back and belly, at the same time Bucky’s hips were snapping up into yours with more urgency. Quickly, you dragged yourself back to sit up, and began to ride him with wild abandon. His left hand came up to yours, giving you an anchor as you fucked him relentlessly, making the pair of you cry out with wordless groans of ecstasy.

To Bucky, you looked like – no, you were a goddess. Your body moving with carnal grace, head thrown back and those gorgeous moans and curses falling from your parted lips.

To him… there would never be a more beautiful sight.

Just as you began to grind your hips in circles with each downward motion, words started to spill from those plush lips, like he wasn’t in control, “You have no idea how much I wanted to tear Zemo apart tonight. His hands all over you – they shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t be touched like that.”

His lips parted wider for a moment, his hips thrusting up to meet your circular motions and it made the head of his cock thud against that spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves through your spine.

Your whimpering plea spurred him on, kept him hitting that spot with hard pressure that threatened to tear you to pieces, “You’re a goddess - Not a fucking piece of arm candy. The sight of him touching you-” He snarled, pulling you down hard on his dick for a second, taking the opportunity to rotate his own hips this time, “That should be me. Worshipping you. Not him.”

His rough words and the sheer intensity of his thrusted hurtled you closer and closer to that edge, the admissions sending just as much pleasure through you as his hard length.

That should be me.

Did he mean…?

You looked down through hazed eyes, like you were seeing all of this with a fresh gaze.

Bucky was already a mess beneath you, his head tilted back, and the line of his throat held taught. His deep curls with a mess, ruffled up over his forehead and the pillows.

Beautiful.

Bucky’s hips were starting to lose rhythm as he jerked up into you, but he never failed to repeatedly hit that spot, again and again.

You both chased down your orgasms, and with one final grind of your hips, one final sharp jerk of his own, you fell to pieces in tandem.

Bucky’s back arched, freezing as he spurted his hot load up inside you, at the same time your walls clenched around him, milking him for everything he had as your combined wetness slipped down his balls, making a mess of his skin – and the bed.

Like either of you could care.

Time lost all meaning yet again as you came down from your high, and later, you’d remember only by the places your bodies occupied.

Bucky hauled you up, finished with the lack of control and he took you against the floor to ceiling windows, your breasts pressed to the cool glass, the city twinkling below you as Bucky fucked you deep from behind, that vibranium hand against fitted snug around your throat.

Then on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, his dick sliding down your throat again as his tongue dragged between your folds, your knees braced either side of his head as you held onto his thighs.

When you retired to the sunken tub to wash up, you found yourself seated on Bucky’s lap, riding him once more with the hot, jasmine scented water splashing over the ornate tiles, your combined moans mingling with the steamy air.

The whole time, Bucky’s words played over and over in your head, echoing in the tiny space of your mind that wasn’t sex-addled.

He wanted to be the one to walk into a club with you on his arm. He wanted everyone in the room to know he worshipped the very ground you walked on, the air that you breathed.

It wasn’t like the feelings weren’t reciprocated either.

It had been the blue-eyed soldier in the forefront of your mind for months and months now, perhaps even far before that.

And it wasn’t until you were back on the bed, covers strewn on the floor that things truly shifted.

Bucky’s hands were gripping your thighs, pulling you down to fuck his face and tongue whilst you gripped onto the headboard, his groans of delight muffled against your wet heat.

The feeling was… other-worldly.

Your sexual partners of the past had gone down on you, sure. You’d even been in this exact position once, but it was nothing compared to Bucky.

No one worked you over with the same acute knowledge of what you liked, before you even knew it yourself.

His nose nudged against your clit, providing the perfect pressure whilst he spearheaded his tongue deep within you. Every time he did, he pulled you lower, shaking his head from side to side so that his stubble scratched your sensitive inner thighs and your swollen folds.

Words were beyond you, and all you could do was make incoherent moans and keens, sure the people in the rooms surrounding yours could hear your screams, but you didn’t care.

Especially when Bucky dragged his teeth over your clit, ever so lightly biting it and causing you to hurtle into the outer atmosphere and forget everything.

You collapsed, losing the tension in your legs and only Bucky’s hands shooting up to your ribs stopped you from smashing your forehead on the wall.

Light exploded across your vision, your blood roaring in your ears and you couldn’t move, your body was completely boneless. You were truly spent, muscles twitching with aftershocks and you only just noticed Bucky coaxing you to lay down next to him.

You faded in and out of a warm haze, registering a warm cloth gliding between your legs, over your flushed skin.

“Go on a date with me.”

The soft words underlined with that oh-so familiar rasp brought you rushing back to the present. “You... what?”

“Go on a date with me.”

You snapped your eyes open, only to be met with the Arctic ocean, almost glowing from within with sated desire.

Curling your lips up into a smile, you gently dragged Bucky’s head down to yours, pressing your lips to his equally swollen ones, “Okay.”

#well that happened #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #tfatws fan fic #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader smut

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hes-writer · 4 years ago

Text

To You (4)

Summary: harry dates y/n to get closer to her best friend

Warnings: mild angst (what else lol), not a lot of dialogue for this one, and a bit of fluff

Word Count: 2775 words

A/N: I've had the worst writer's block for this series but then inspiration struck me at 2 am and I had the chance to write a lil sumthin sumthin for the next part :D

Read the full series in my masterlist (bio)

As I mentioned before, this story kind of goes backwards.

____

As self-deprecating as it is, Y/N couldn’t help but feel her guard lower with each fleeting glance at her phone. She didn’t mean to, really. It wasn’t as if she was bored out of her mind because she was the opposite of that.

Going on her phone and tapping on Instagram was more of a distraction from studying if anything. She was hounded by piles of homework and pages of readings to do by the end of next week. It seemed that her brain was working in constant overdrive to try to remember the endless concepts and theories that were catapulted at her with no signs of stopping. Her eyes were straining from the constant stimulation from her laptop screen, and from trying to read the small letters plastered on the computer.

Y/N was studying on her designated studying days, as usual. She was quite proud of sticking to the schedule, except for the few weeks that she opted to coddle herself in the confines of her warm blanket because that was around the time that she found out her boyfriend, Harry, was only using her to get close to her best friend, Louise.

——

In retrospect, Y/N should have seen all the signs blaring right in front of her face all along. She gave herself facepalms more than she could count by the way she was—quite literally—blinded by love to realize that Harry’s feelings were nothing but a façade. That Y/N was nothing but a pawn in his game; a character to manipulate, disposable in order for him to get the woman he actually wanted. And Y/N had no doubts that her ex-boyfriend was treating Louise like a queen.

Y/N wore red-tinted glasses while she was with Harry and she didn’t see the red flags rising every time he shaped their evening around Louise’s schedule. She thought that Harry was making such a good effort in getting to know the people close to Y/N’s life that he insisted on having Louise around whenever they hung out with her friends.

Harry asked endless questions about Louise; from where she worked to what she was interested in—to which Y/N had foolishly answered, believing that she had found the perfect man to share her life with. But she should have known when he didn’t do the same for her other friends. Hell, he didn’t even do the same to her!

___

When Harry and Y/N were just friends, he didn’t bother getting to know her as thoroughly and comprehensively as he did with Louise. In fact, it could be argued that Harry hated Y/N when they were first introduced by—and this was ironic—Louise!

Louise spoked highly and excitedly of ‘my friend, Y/N’ and with Harry being the loved-up simp that he was—wanted to please Louise by appearing interested in her friend. He guessed that he was probably too good of an actor (not to toot his own horn) because that meet up turned into a set-up.

Louise had planned a date for her friends, Y/N was indifferent to it; she was even a little excited because she thought that Harry was sort of nice. Despite the fact that he was indirectly rude to her in their first meeting, Y/N didn’t hold grudges on people for their first impressions. She believed that anybody could have a bad day and that might just be the time when Harry was dragged by the arm to be introduced to her.

Y/N understood if that was the case. She was not too keen on acting nice and friendly after a stressful day at work, or a hard study session at the library. So even if Harry was practically snarling at every word she said from his seat around the rounded booth table of the bar—she agreed to go on a first date with him.

——

Harry was in shambles.

He got himself into quite an intricate mess trying to attain the woman of his dreams. He was such a pleaser that he was now contemplating inside his car, outside of Y/N’s address. Was this all worth it? Of course, it was. As much as Harry would like to say that this was part of his plan to make Louise his girlfriend, it really wasn’t.

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t use it to his advantage.

It was a good thing that he was early—about twenty minutes or so. That was only because he was huffing the whole time Harry was buttoning the clutches of his dress shirt, shaking his head at the bathroom mirror and reprimanding himself for letting his lovesickness to get him deeper than he would like. But hey, the sooner Harry got to Y/N’s place, the sooner this ‘date’ would be over.

So here he was, hidden in the shadows of the night sky and shielded by the heavy tint of his Range Rover. Palms were pressed on the lush leather steering wheel as Harry formulated how he could turn this around in his favour. He was already in Louise’s good books for even agreeing to this in the first place—why not make Y/N his own personal wingman?

Granted, that she didn’t actually know Harry well enough but maybe this date could reach Louise’s ears about how much of a romantic, perfect, and chivalrous gentleman Harry could be. That would surely make Louise like him, right?

Wrong. Absolutely wrong.

It was safe to say that Harry was feeling guilty the moment he decided to use Y/N in order to get to her best friend, but that ship sailed long ago when anger and frustration took over. Why in the hell was he so perfect to Y/N’s eyes that she had gushed about him to her best friend minutes after he had dropped her off?

Why did Harry have to knock on her door with a single-stemmed rose clutched in his fingers, doing a little bow to add humour when she opened the door? And what in God’s name possessed him to say that she looked beautiful that night in her pretty, deep green dress that he thought was absolutely gorgeous on her—but his heart was with another woman—fully knowing that it would look better on Louise?

“Why. . . just why,” Harry asked himself as he sat at a table with Y/N, Louise and her boyfriend, Dylan.

That was what being romantic got him. That was where declaring Y/N as his unofficial wingman ended him upon. A double date with the woman he wanted with Y/N looking at him as if they’ve been together for years, when in fact, they had only known each other for a few weeks.

Harry’s pride was too big to admit that this time; he couldn’t get the girl. And so, his bruised ego declared that this date was just another unplanned situation that would benefit him—somehow, someway—in the future.

Wrong again.

Because a month later, Y/N was running off to her lecture with a bag strapped over her shoulder, leaving Harry a passionate kiss on the lips. He was quite ashamed to say that he enjoyed the affection, but not enough to ignore the throbbing of his heart

Harry wasn’t all in with his relationship with Y/N and he knew exactly why. For months, he had been pining for Louise and well, he ended up with her best friend, Y/N. Now that was just super unlucky for him. And he wasn’t usually a mean person, but Harry was very annoyed with fate (or destiny) for leaving with an ultimatum.

First, leaving Y/N risking her tattling to Louise about him breaking her heart was a no-no. Second, staying with Y/N until she realizes that both of them were no good together. The latter was a much more pleasant choice, except the fact that it could take months for Y/N to acknowledge that she and Harry were both too different for each other.

——

It was another four months later when Harry drew upon an epiphany very similar yet completely different from the ultimatum he had presided.

Y/N was sure of her feelings more than ever, even dropping the ‘L’ word during a drunken stupor of wine and bubbly champagne. Harry was sure that she hadn’t remembered her confession the next morning because she never brought it up. However, those words that escaped her lips were enough for Harry to overthink each night one or the other slept over.

Sometimes Y/N’s snores would serve as background noise to his serene imagination, wondering why the images of Louise and him doing couple-y stuff were now replaced with Y/N’s figure instead.

He also pondered if his memory was so impeccable that he could hear Y/N’s laugh fluttering in his ears while she was sound asleep beside him or was it just because she released a chuckle every time he made a horrible joke?

(It was true. Y/N never left Harry hanging in the air with a questionable punchline of a head-scratching joke. Both of them knew that her giggles were pity laughs. Harry was thankful for it and Y/N just couldn’t resist painting a genuine smile on Harry’s face, looking so proud that he had made her laugh.)

Harry was certain that his feelings for Y/N wouldn’t quite reach the threshold that he held her for now. But it seemed that he was getting a lot of his sworn predictions wrong lately. Sure, their first encounter (and the second, and the third. . .) were purely for satisfaction’s sake. A mere plot for Harry to build his boyfriend resumé for Louise.

Harry wasn’t sure when his feelings shifted from civil and friendly to an ever-evoking, lovesick puppy.

Maybe it was the way Y/N walked, straight into his heart and stole it, keeping it safe in her tender hands when she pressed a lingering kiss on his lip while she ran off to catch the bus. The way Harry would pout when Y/N forgot the routine she had set, resulting in him whining her name and sometimes chasing after her to get his much-needed kiss. He even started calling it his ‘good-luck charm’ because it seemed like without it; Harry came home more drained and tired than usual because nothing went right that day.

Or maybe it was the way she giggled while reading something on her phone, laptop, or a book—even if it was for school purposes. How absolutely pleased he was to hear her melody of giggles, straining his ear to listen more closely and wanting to do nothing more than to hear it again because it was music to Harry. It usually ends with Y/N’s heaving breaths, begging him to stop tickling her.

Was it because she was the most adorable little thing while she was asleep? No, it couldn’t be, Harry thought, even though the admiration in his eyes cannot be described as anything other than glazed over with love and affection with the way he stared at Y/N’s sleeping face.

But why can’t he stop thinking about her when she wasn’t around? Harry felt like he was missing a part of himself as soon as he shut the door to his house because Y/N had to go to her own place.

Why did a smile splinter his lips visualizing Y/N studying at her kitchen table with a topknot wobbling on her head and a pair of her thick-rimmed glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose? Harry still remembers the first time she asked him to redo the bun on her head, complaining that it was loosening and that she couldn’t focus when strands were haywire.

Harry made sure to be extra careful as to not accidentally pull on her scalp, stretching the hairband around his fingers.

Now, he only had a minute experience in hair styling, reminiscing to his long-haired days were he slipped his hair into a neat ball in a few seconds or less. But this was Y/N, his girlfriend, who had an adorable pout on her face. The finch between her brows deepening when she tried to understand the concepts written on the screen yet she would giggle when Harry would ask her, ‘Am I hurting you?’ and shake her head ‘no’.

——-

So it was a bit questionable when Harry jumped at the chance to kiss Louise when the time came.

She had just broken up with her boyfriend and called Y/N for comfort. However, Y/N was about to leave for an exam worth half of her grade and she couldn’t just not attend it. She may love her best friend with all of her heart, but not enough to waste thousands of dollars to redo a course because she missed the final exam.

Hence, why Harry was sent in place of Y/N instead. And that was also how his plump lips managed to lock itself with Louise’s’ glossy ones. He should’ve felt guilt stab him right away when he tasted wet, salty tears on his tongue when he battled for dominance with Louise.

Harry should have pulled away when his phone buzzed in his pocket; a message from girlfriend that she had just finished her exam and was ready to be picked up now so that she could give love and comfort to her best friend.

Harry’s subconscious must have reminded him that this was the woman whom he had spent months pining on; desperately trying to make her his yet failing. And now that he had the chance to, he couldn’t stop.

Instead of doing everything his conscience had practically yelled at him to do, Harry’s brain had buffered—his body numbed every nerve except the ones controlling his mouth because their persisting kiss was captured by a photographer hidden amongst barricades that Harry had failed to take notice of.

Harry was sure that his presence was hidden to the best of his abilities, but he guessed that Louise’s hands had pulled his hoodie off in the midst of their make-out session, revealing his side profile and the unruly curls on his head.

And that was how Y/N identified the image on her phone the time she felt her heart being ripped out and crushed into pieces. That, and the fact that Harry wore the same clothes she had seen him in before she left.

____

And now, as Y/N paused her thumb from scrolling away from the image on her screen, the same pain and heartbreak still throbbed in her chest.

She couldn’t seem to forget, as a lot of people say, what Harry did to her. Despite the fact that he was spotted outside her door, leaving boxed gifts of chocolate and flower bouquets a few minutes ago—Y/N simply didn’t have the capacity to sweep everything under the rug.

The wound was still fresh—feeling air was enough to have her hissing, aiming to cover the cut in fear that it would become too painful to even ignore. For weeks, Y/N had to wallow in agonizing self-pity to remind herself that Harry didn’t deserve her or her love for him and now she was somehow ready to run back into his arms?

She absolutely despised the way her hands twitched to send him a text. To leave him a voicemail or to simply tap his contact just to hear him speak to her again. Y/N was ashamed to admit that he thought about knocking on his front door just for another chance at seeing him again. An opportunity to ask him if he was happier with her (ex) best-friend—if Harry loved Louise more than he did with her. Or—and most of all—if Harry ever did love Y/N during their short relationship. Was everything just a game to him?

She was doing good so far; she was strong enough to withhold from the urges of communicating with an ex. However, Y/N knew it was only a matter of time before Harry took extreme measures to speak to her, unlocking her door with the spare key she had given him. One day she would be met with his figure in the hallway with a sad smile on his face and three long-stemmed sunflowers in his hand and Y/N wouldn’t be able to resist him.

Y/N hated herself for being so weak whenever Harry was involved. He was her Kryptonite; getting too close to him was what ripped her to shreds.

___

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____

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tomboyneedshercoffee · 4 years ago

Text

Lovedust Pt.5 || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Summary: Y/N invites Josh over to work on a project while Peter goes back to his Spiderman duties which sends Y/N into a spiral.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author’s Note: WOWIE I really stayed up all night to finish this ha. Anyway! This gives more backstory about Y/N and what happened with her biological parents and ughhhh things are moving yall! Also leave comments if it’s good and if it’s bad also leave comments 🥰

Warnings: Mention of blood, death, panic attack, ANGST

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six ||

part seven || part eight || epilogue

Even though the Avengers Complex was your home, it was much more than a place where you crashed after school. You had to keep in mind that to any normal person, the idea of seeing alien technology in use or friends from galaxies away wasn’t an average Thursday.

You never thought any of this was particularly strange until now as you got the text from Josh that he was parked in the back lot of the building like you had told him to.

Since you and Josh were partners for anatomy, you thought it would be obvious that you would be staying at his house to work on your project but your dad had other ideas.

The sheer thought of you going to a boy’s house to “study” was absurd, especially since Josh’s parents were always out of town for business. You never thought your dad would ever let any of your friends into the complex, especially a boy but in the name of science, it wasn’t too hard to convince him.

You quietly opened the side door as Josh slid in behind you and let out a low whistle.

“ Not too shabby Stark, although I gotta say, the lawn is looking a bit wild,” Josh smiled as he readjusted his backpack straps,” if you need me to come over to cut it, I charge $9.00 an hour.”

“ In that case, your first shift starts next week,” You teased as you led him to the main set of elevators in the building.

You couldn’t help but feel on edge as Josh followed close behind you. You had never brought anyone over and you were scared that bringing Josh would make things turn into a big deal. You knew how protective some of the other Avengers were of you and you just prayed silently that you wouldn’t run into any of them, especially Peter.

You weren’t sure how Peter would take it if he found out you and Josh were getting closer.

Peter was in a fragile state and who knew what little thing could set him off. You were even more worried that Peter would find out about the party tomorrow night because it wasn’t like you could invite him along.

The idea of mixing hormonal teenagers and alcohol was a recipe for disaster but the damage that could be made from Peter’s self-destructive state could be even bigger.

As much as you knew how badly things could turn out with Josh in the complex, you knew you couldn’t let Peter’s actions affect what went on in your academic life and at the end of the day, Josh was just a classmate.

Josh looked all around him, taking in everything from the colorful array of gadgets neatly built into the walls to the natural light coming from the sleek windows.

“ I feel so out of place- am I underdressed?” Josh asked as a few lab technicians walked past giving you and Josh an odd glance,” and how do you not get lost in a place this big.”

You pressed the elevator button and gave Josh a reassuring smile,” Trust me, they’ve seen weirder things around here. Like, way weirder things.”

When the elevator doors opened, the two of you walked in and you started pointing to the elevator buttons,” So a quick tour! We’re on the main floor which basically is used for important meetings and conferences, the second floor is for the gym and pool, the third is where some of the bedrooms are, fourth is strictly for the scientists, the fifth is the labs, and the other floors are for S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Also, the basement has all the cool gadgets I’m not allowed to play with but I’m convinced it’s just where the guys all hang out and drink.”

“ You have an indoor pool?”

“ That’s what caught your attention?” You laughed as Josh nodded enthusiastically.

“ Well yeah! Do you even use it? I vaguely remember that when you were twelve, you almost drowned in 4ft water at someone’s pool party,” Josh said as you pressed the third button.

“ It was 5ft but yes I know how to swim...my dad made me take lessons after that,” You mumbled as you remembered that experience vividly,” I tried lifeguarding last summer at that super fancy hotel near Greenwich but the training was too expensive so I just took a CPR course at the YMCA and lifeguarded there.”

“ Did you ever have to save anyone?” Josh asked curiously as the glass elevators moved up towards your floor.

You nodded as Josh’s mouth dropped,” Yup, I had to give CPR and everything. Lucky for them, saving lives runs in my family.”

As the elevator doors opened up to your floor, you made sure to carefully scan the hallway before stepping out. Peter was supposed to be up in the labs all-day so that gave you enough time to work on the project with Josh while keeping Peter at a safe distance.

As you were approaching the door to your room, the fridge door in the kitchen closed and revealed Peter with an IV pole on his left side and an apple in the other hand.

“ Peter!” You said nervously as you took a small step in front of Josh, almost as if you were covering him up from Peter’s line of vision,” What are you doing here? I thought you were up in the labs?”

Peter looked past you and eyed Josh up and down before holding up the fruit, walking towards the two of you,” Um, I needed something to eat- Who is he?”

Peter was constantly feeling some type of distress whether it was chest pains or headaches but now that he clearly caught you hiding a boy from him, the pain felt off.

You had never brought over any of your friends to the headquarters before so to Peter, this was already a red flag. Peter felt like his body was on high alert as thousands of scenarios were going through his head.

Josh stepped forward and held his hand out for Peter to shake,” Nice to meet you, Peter, I’m Josh. Y/N and I go to Manhattan Prep together.”

Peter looked down at Josh’s hand for a moment before shaking it hard. Josh winced but played off his pain as he pulled his hand away and stuffed it back into his pockets. You could feel the one-sided tension between the two as you looked over to Peter to try to ease him but his eyes were glued to Josh.

You cleared your throat as you turned to face Josh,“ Peter is a part of my dad’s internship program so he spends most of his time here at the complex. He’s pretty much a part of the family and he’s a really good friend, right Peter? ”

Peter nodded as he tried to calm his nerves down, his quick glance to Josh was almost as if he was begging his body to put his guard down. He couldn’t control his body and this was the first time the lovedust had forced him into a territorial state.

“ No kidding, that’s awesome man. My buddy from Midtown was telling me that he knew a guy who was accepted into the Stark Internship,” Josh said as Peter stood up a little straighter.

“ Oh really? Who?”

“ Flash Thompson, do you know him?” Josh asked as Peter looked over at you, almost as a warning.

While Josh was trying to be civil towards Peter, Peter couldn’t help but feel the pit in his stomach sink lower and lower with the thought of Josh even associating with someone like Flash.

“ As a matter of fact, I do know Flash,” Peter said smoothly, his speech hardly hesitating,” you sure know how to pick friends.”

You and Josh could tell that Peter was giving a dig towards him but Josh quickly let it go as he tried to ease the situation.

“ Well... it was nice to meet you Peter, any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine,” Josh said as he gave a genuine smile,” I’m sure Y/N already mentioned this to you but if you’re not busy or anything, my friend is throwing a party tomorrow and you should come out.”

Fuck.

Peter looked at you for a moment before returning a small smile to Josh,” Thanks, I’ll think about it.”

“ Um Josh, can you just wait in my room for a second?” You asked as Josh looked between the two of you and nodded.

You didn’t want to be upset at Peter for feeling hostile towards Josh because you knew he really couldn’t help himself. It was eating away at you that you were the reason Peter was acting so jealous but come on, did he really have a reason to?

Once Josh closed the door behind him, you turned back to Peter and looked down at the IV that was in his arm.

“ Is everything okay?” You asked as Peter looked down at his arm,” that looks pretty serious.”

“ Yeah… I’ve been having some problems but nothing your dad can’t fix” Peter deflected softly before looking over to your bedroom door,” so Josh...is he a friend?”

Peter knew he was walking on thin ice asking about Josh but he couldn’t bring himself to just go back in the labs and worry about the two of you all day.

“ He’s just a friend Peter, we have a school project and we’re partners,” You reassured him as Peter felt almost relieved,” and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the party, I didn’t think you would want to go but I should’ve asked.”

Peter studied your expression for a moment before looking down at his feet. It was hard to tell if you were telling the truth, maybe you didn’t want him to come. School project or not, Peter felt threatened by Josh, even if Josh was trying his best to be as nice as possible.

“ It’s okay, you’re right. Parties aren’t my thing anyway,” Peter shrugged as you bit the inside of your cheek.

You weren’t sure why you felt so guilty but whatever you were feeling, you hated how much it was stirring inside of you. You never wanted Peter to feel left out and you could easily tell that it was bothering him as much as it was bothering you.

“ Maybe if you’re not busy tonight, we can watch a movie together. I checked the kitchen this morning and there’s a ton of frozen pizzas if you’re up for it?” You suggested as Peter tapped his fingers against the side of his leg.

Peter wanted to jump at the offer, any excuse to hang out with you alone literally set Peter so close to having a cardiac arrest in the best way possible. While he was getting the hang of controlling his words around you, it felt like the more time you spent with him, the more he felt himself fall for you.

“ I’m actually going to patrol tonight,” Peter said in a low whisper as he looked back at your bedroom door,” I haven’t been on the streets in a long time and I think I feel well enough to go.”

“ Are you sure you’re ready? You’re literally hooked up to an IV bag Peter,” You said as Peter subtly pushed the IV pole behind him as if he could hide it.

“ I won’t do anything crazy, I’ll be okay. I’ll only be out for a couple of hours and we can hang out when I get back,” Peter said as you hesitantly nodded.

You understood that being a superhero meant that you couldn’t take sick days but this was an extreme circumstance. To you, Spiderman could wait but for Peter, that was a large part of his livelihood that he had put aside for too long.

You wanted to tell him not to go, better yet, if you could hide every single one of his Spiderman suits you would. It didn’t sit right with you that with everything going on with his health that he would jeopardize it but you knew it wasn’t your call.

“ Okay, but please text me updates so I know you’re safe. Things have been so crazy lately and I-”

“ Don’t worry Y/N, I’ll be okay,” Peter interrupted as he felt his heart grow heavy,” I promise I’ll keep you updated.”

You didn’t know why the thought of Peter going out was so scary but before you could think things over in your head, your feet stepped forward and you pulled Peter into a tight hug. You rested your chin against his shoulder as you inhaled deeply as if hugging Peter would calm down your nerves for the rest of your life.

Without a second thought, Peter drew his arms over your body and held you close to his chest. His heart beat even faster than usual as he closed his eyes, holding you even tighter than before.

----------

You checked your phone for what seemed like the millionth time in the last hour as you grew more and more anxious.

Peter had been gone for hours to go patrol while you and Josh were still working on the project. It was eating away at you that Peter wasn’t back yet and every time another minute passed without an update, you felt like you were closer to losing your mind.

Even before Peter made contact with the lovedust, you would still secretly pray that he got home in one piece. When everyone you knew and loved had a career that put themselves in the line of danger, thoughts of not having them around anymore plagued you whenever you had a quiet moment to yourself.

You had lost people before to freak accidents like your biological parents who had passed away when you were old enough to know how death worked. You couldn’t imagine not having Tony as your dad but some nights whenever you were filled to the brim with anxiety, you wondered what your life would’ve been like if your parents weren’t killed during that home invasion.

When you’ve lost people, it never gets easier, terror plagues you. The fear of someone you know getting hurt was by far scarier than anything Hollywood could recreate with CGI and yet, it was slowly looming over you.

Superheros were literally your life and you weren’t mentally prepared that one day, something bad could happen and you could lose them forever. With Peter, you weren’t sure if it was because of how close the two of you were now but the fear of losing him was bigger than any other scenario you had crafted in your head.

“ Is everything okay? You seem a little out of it,” Josh said as you looked away from your phone and back towards your laptop.

“ Yeah, I’m good, my body just feels so tired. I’ve read so much medical terminology within the past couple of hours and now everything is jumbling together,” You sighed as you looked down at Josh who was sprawled out onto your bedroom floor with a textbook resting against his stomach.

You never realized how comfortable your floor was but seeing Josh on your floor looking as effortless as ever was a shock to your system. When Josh caught your gaze, you turned back to your laptop and rested your cheek against your palm to try to cover the blush that was creeping onto your cheeks.

As you rested your cheek against your propped up hand, you could feel your eyelids get heavier with each passing second. Josh noticed from his spot on the ground and sat upon his hands, watching you ever so intently.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed once you closed your eyes but once you felt a blanket drape across your shoulders, you stirred quietly.

You held your breath as you waited for anything else but all you could hear was paper shuffling around. You peeked your eye out and saw Josh crouched down on your floor, carefully putting his textbooks and notes into his backpack, being careful not to wake you.

Instead of waking up to say goodbye, you pretend to be asleep as if you were too nervous to even confront Josh this late. The papers stopped shuffling and as you tried to keep your breathing patterns even, you felt Josh’s hand rub your shoulder softly before walking out of the room.

Once your bedroom door had closed, you hesitantly opened your eyes and gave a quick peek to make sure Josh was really gone.

You exhaled loudly, not even aware that you were holding it in all this time. You let the blanket fall onto the chair before walking over to your large window that pointed towards where Josh had parked.

You knew you should’ve walked him down after everything he had done for your project but the least you could do now was to make sure he left the complex in one piece. After a few minutes of patiently looking out the window, you saw Josh’s car pull out of the long driveway and headed down towards the front gate.

Your mind instantly traveled back to Peter as you checked your phone again but this time you went back to your messages and looked at all of the unread messages you had left for him.

5:12pm || Y/N: update me when you get to your post!

5:29pm || Y/N: oh don’t swing and text loser!!!!

6:01pm || Y/N: you there yet?

6:36pm || Y/N: don’t make me spam text u nerd

6:57pm || Y/N: im gonna just pretend you’re too busy to txt me back-be safe!

7:40pm || Y/N: helloooo?!?! Is everything okay

8:00pm || Y/N: i will leak your identity fool txt me back

8:40pm || Y/N: whatever idc anymore

8:44pm || Y/N: still haven’t heard back from you, you dead?

9:06pm || Y/N: ur freaking me out dude, any updates?

9:33pm || Y/N: there was a fire near the museum are you okay?!?! The news said you were there

9:35pm || Y/N: peter????

9:50pm || Y/N: call me im worried

10:02pm || Y/N: ur scaring me pls respond

You cursed under your breath as you pressed the call button and placed it to your ear. After a few rings, Peter’s voicemail came on and you didn’t even bother to listen to it all the way. You had already left so many voicemails and at this point, there was nothing you could do but wait for him.

You were filled with dread as you scooted back into your bed and refreshed the news pages on your phone.

Spiderman Stops an Armed Gunman Outside Plaza

You knew that it wasn’t healthy for you to keep scrolling online but you needed to know if Peter was safe. You hated the feeling of not being kept into the loop and Peter wasn’t the type to completely ignore text messages unless that meant he was in real trouble, what could you do to help him, you don’t have any powers you’re just a teenager-

You took a deep breath in as you shut your phone off and stared up at the ceiling to clear your head.

Peter is smart. He’s fast. He will be fine. You kept repeating it over and over again like a lullaby and with some luck, you could feel your eyelids get heavier and heavier by the second with Peter being the last thing you thought before falling into a deep sleep.

You held your hand over your mouth to try and stop the sobs that rocked your body from underneath the bed. You could hear your dad begging, pleading to spare his wife before the sound of a gunshot went off.

It was louder than you remembered almost as if the sky let out a roaring thunder that shook the whole house. You could hear your dad struggling with the gunman before another shot rang out, this time even louder.

The glowing stars that were stuck to your ceiling shook off once your bedroom door had slammed opened and you prayed silently, wanting the nightmare to end.

You did your best to be quiet as you watched his feet walk slowly to the bed, almost at a teasing pace like he knew you were underneath there. Everytime the nightmare played in your head, the attacker took on a different appearance. Sometimes it was someone you knew, other times it was just a passing face on the street.

But everytime you had this nightmare, one thing never changed. The shoes, black sneakers with white laces and depending on how terrible the nightmare decided to be, you could spot the splatter of blood against the heels.

You watched as the man walked behind your bed and you let out a scream as you felt his hands wrap around your ankles, pulling you roughly against the carpet. As you scratched at the attackers face, your sob got caught in the middle of your throat.

The attacker always took a different appearance and this time, it was Peter.

You kicked and screamed as hard as you could as he tried to pin you down, his weapon pressed into the side of your rib as you sobbed uncontrollably. You knew it was a dream and you were so used to letting it ride out or until you fell out of bed but with Peter staring at you as he dangled your life between his fingers, all you wanted to do was wake up.

All you could do was continue to fight back through your tears as he kept saying your name, taunting you.

“ Let go of me!”

“ Y/N! I got you!”

“ It’s me Peter!”

“Y/N!”

You shot up from out of your bed, almost knocking heads with another figure as you let out a choked sob. You didn’t realize your fists were still swinging until you felt a pair of arms wrap around your body, cradling you.

The memory of the attacker was still so vivid in your head and all you wanted to do was get away,“ Let me go!” You screamed as you struggled against their grip as they held you even tighter,” get off of me!”

“ Y/N! Y/N! It’s me! It’s me! You’re okay!” Peter shouted as he let his grip go before cupping his hands on either side of your face,” open your eyes! Hey! It’s me, you’re okay!”

You squirmed from his lap as you opened your eyes to see Peter in front of you, the actual Peter. As relieved as you were, you felt your chest tighten as you continued to cry and without a second thought, you leaned into Peter’s chest and buried your wet face into his t-shirt.

Peter held you tighter as he rested one hand against the back of your head and the other was snaked around your waist. He smoothed down your hair as he made soft shushing noises to try and calm you down,” It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here, I got you.”

You hadn’t felt so relieved to see anyone until now and as you tried to control your cries, you felt yourself slowly transitioning back into reality. You inhaled his scent as you dug your face into his neck and you never thought a smell could bring you so much peace.

Relief wasn’t even what you were feeling, it was more than that. You couldn’t put it into words and it was heavier than the idea of weight being lifted off of your shoulders. Release. To sob into someone’s embrace where you knew you would be safe no matter what felt heavenly and with every sob you let out, you felt yourself separate from the nightmare altogether.

Peter had to hold back his own tears as he held you and slowly rocked your body back and forth like a baby. He wasn’t sure if it was comforting you but it definitely put Peter at ease.

Just minutes ago, he had just checked on you to see if you were still awake and once he saw that you were sleeping, he went back to his room to get ready for bed. It wasn’t until he was putting on his pajamas when the hair on his arm stood up seconds before you actually let out a scream only he could sense.

Peter literally scrambled to your room and had his web-shooters ready because from what he could hear, he thought someone was attacking you. It wasn’t until he saw that you were having a nightmare that he quickly threw his web-shooters to the side and tried to wake you up.

It was one thing to be in love with someone and to go through the motions as if it was a normal occasion but this was different. Seeing you so vulnerable and completely terrified utterly broke Peter in half and he knew for sure that it wasn’t all because of the lovedust.

“ You’re safe Y/N, you’re okay.”

“ Don’t worry I got you.”

“ Just breathe for me, okay?”

For what seemed like forever, Peter cradled you and whispered into your ear to let you know that you were okay and that he was there for you. He wanted you to tell him everything about the nightmare and what had triggered it but he knew that it wasn’t just an ordinary nightmare with the occasional boogeyman.

You thought back to your nightmare one last time as you pictured a hazy Peter attacking you and it almost sent you into another panic attack. Peter could feel how tense you got and his grip loosened so he could look back at you.

Your eyes were puffy from crying so much and your cheeks were flushed red but Peter thought you were absolutely beautiful. You weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him, there was so much to say yet so little at the same time.

“ Thank you,” You whispered ever so softly as you craned your neck up and pressed a soft kiss against Peter’s cheek.

You both knew that it wasn’t an ordinary thank you but for Peter, he didn’t need to analyze it any further. You closed your eyes and listened to the sound of Peter’s heartbeat that rang throughout his body.

From pure exhaustion of crying and anxiety, you felt even more tired than before and Peter could feel you slipping back to sleep. He didn’t want to let you go, if he could, he would hold you in his arms forever if it meant keeping you safe and sound.

Once Peter heard your soft snores, he held you for a second longer before carefully laying you back down into your bed. Like second nature, Peter pulled the covers back over your body and tucked a strand of hair that was danging in the middle of your face behind your ear.

Peter ignored the sore feeling that was lingering in his back and forearms from holding you up and lightly dragged his fingers across his own cheek. He was way into deep now.

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

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Damsels, Chapter Five: Work That Gameboy

By SisterSpooky1013 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Rated E / Read previous chapters here

Mulder arrives at work early, looking longingly at Scully’s car in the parking lot. Approaching it, he peers in the windows looking for…he isn’t sure what. Her car is, as usual, neat as a pin with no indication of where she went or why.

In his restlessness the night before, he’d thought a lot about why it bothers him so much not to know where she is or what she’s doing. If the roles were reversed, he would expect her to wait it out and trust him to take care of himself, but for some reason he’s struggling to do the same for her. He thought at first that it was her tendency to get hurt or need help, but by comparison he needs her help just as often as she needs his, so that doesn’t track. Then he thought maybe it’s that he doesn’t trust Skinner to do what’s in her best interest, but Skinner has shown a tendency to be protective of Scully on numerous occasions (and in fact Mulder strongly suspects his feelings for her go beyond the bounds of strict professionalism), so that isn’t entirely logical either. Skinner may have left him out to dry with the New Spartans, but he doesn’t believe the man would stoop low enough to treat Scully in the same manner.

In the end, he realized that it’s pretty simple; he’s just crazy about her. His protectiveness doesn’t have anything to do with how capable she is, or the situations other people might put her in, or even situations she might put herself in. He misses her, and cares so much about her that not even knowing where she is feels wrong. It feels like a piece of him is missing, and he’s not allowed to know where it is or when he’ll get it back.

After pretending to work for an hour, he sulks up to Skinner’s office and asks for a few minutes of his time. Skinner is immediately irritated, though Mulder doesn’t realize that it’s in response to him and not a preexisting condition. He stands in front of Skinner’s desk, looming over him.

“What do you want, Agent Mulder?” Skinner grumbles, not looking up from the document he’s reading.

“I’d like to know where Agent Scully is, sir.”

Skinner sighs heavily, dropping his head to his chest.

“Get out of my office, Agent Mulder,” he says in a low, menacing tone.

“Sir, I’m not asking to contact her, I would never compromise her case, I just need to at least know where she is. What if something happens and I need to find her?”

Skinner stands, looking Mulder in the eye with an intensity he’s seen on very few occasions, none of them fond memories. “Agent Mulder, Agent Scully explicitly asked me not to tell you where she is, or what she’s doing. Even if she hadn’t, I STILL would not tell you, however I hope that if you don't respect the direct orders of your superior, you might, at the very least, respect Agent Scully’s wishes. Now get the hell out of my office and do not bring this up again, understood?”

Mulder glances down and notices Scully’s keys on the desk near Skinner’s nameplate, her Apollo 11 keychain easily identifiable. He leans forward, putting his hands on the desktop, one covering the keys.

“Sir, if anything happens to her, I’ll-“

“You’ll what, Agent Mulder?” Skinner challenges him, stuffing his hands in his pockets in a show of bravado.

Mulder straightens, palming the keys as he stands, and leaves without another word.

Scully arrives at the club just before 2 pm, wearing shorts and a tank top as Angel had instructed. After stuffing her purse into a locker, she finds Angel and Tibet on the floor, which has returned to its daylight state of clean and quiet. Queenie restocks the bar while Ben fiddles with the sound system.

Tibet is up on the stage while Angel sits at the tip rail, offering pointers on a new dance Tibet is working out. Scully immediately notices that Tibet’s hair is cropped short and worn in its natural curls, and realizes she’d been wearing a wig the night before.

“So I was thinking that I could either take my top off just before or just after the first chorus, tell me which looks better, okay?” Tibet says to Angel as Scully enters and takes a seat beside her.

“Benny! Hit me with the music!” Tibet shouts, and then repeats her performance twice, revealing her breasts at a different point in the song each time. When she’s finished, she sits down on the edge of the stage in front of them and asks for their thoughts, her breasts still uncovered.

“I think the sooner the better,” Angel says. “They come here to see your body, so show it to em!”

Tibet nods. “What do you think, Desi?” She asks, stretching a smooth brown leg out to her side and leaning into it.

Scully suddenly feels entirely out of her league in terms of providing an opinion. “Uh, well, generally speaking I guess I’d say wait. You want to build some suspense, right? Make them work for it?”

Angel looks at her suspiciously out of the corner of her eye. “You don’t fuck on the first date, do you?” She asks with a haughty grin, and Scully’s eyes go big at the question. “I’m just messing with you, let’s get to your training!”

“Alright,” Tibet begins as though she’s done this dozens of times, tugging the straps of her shirt back over her shoulders. “So, have you ever given a lap dance before?” she asks plainly, and Scully’s cheeks flush.

“Well, kind of I guess. In college, though more as a joke than anything else. I would definitely consider myself a beginner.”

“Got it, got it,” Tibet responds. “Well, for the most part dancing is about creating a sense of intimacy. It’s fake, obviously, but the more your customer feels like you actually care about him, want him to look at you, like that he’s appreciating your body, the better you’ll do. Your stage set is just about showing yourself off and getting them curious about you. The real money comes from lap dances and VIP, and the more you can draw attention with a really great stage set, the more customers will want to spend time with you afterward. Angel is a beast on the pole and she can teach you all those tricks, but I consider myself the lap dance expert around here, so I’m gonna teach you that part.” She smiles and jumps down from the stage, pulling a chair away from one of the tables and gesturing for Scully to sit in it.

“Oh,” Scully says, and sits as instructed.

“Sometimes, when you’re on the floor, customers will flag you down or ask for you, and that’s great. But you also have to approach people, because they’ll be too shy to ask. So you might come up and do this.”

Tibet saunters towards Scully with a secretive smile on her lips, stepping so close that her thighs thread between Scully’s knees. Next she leans down, placing her hands on Scully’s shoulders and bringing her mouth to Scully’s ear.

“Would you like a dance, Baby?” she asks in a syrupy voice, and Scully feels a shiver run down her spine. Tibet backs up. “Okay, now you try.”

“You want ME to do that?” Scully clarifies, and while just asking someone if they want a lap dance should be the easiest hurdle to clear, she’s finding that it’s still an uncomfortably high one.

Angel turns her head toward the bar and calls out, “Queenie! We need some liquid courage over here!”

Queenie walks over with a bottle of tequila and three shot glasses, pouring them wordlessly before returning to her task.

Angel holds her glass up, Tibet and Scully following suit. “To new career paths,” Angel says, and Scully smiles thinly, clinking her glass with theirs and throwing back the shot with a grimace.

Three weeks. She’s been gone three weeks, and not a word from Skinner. No update, no information, though he’s stopped by a couple times and asked, drawing increasing amounts of rage from his boss. He’s finished all the paperwork, re-organized the files, cleaned and rearranged the office (only to immediately change it back) and spent hours upon hours imagining where Scully might be right now.

He kept her keys, just in case, but knows she’d be unhappy with him invading her privacy by snooping around her apartment. That’s why he waits three whole weeks before he finally does it. He has a key to her apartment and could have gone there at any point, but her personal keyring also holds the keys for her gun safe and her mailbox, which may prove helpful. After work on a Thursday, he drives by and lets himself in, the warm vanilla smell of her immediately invading his nostrils as he opens the door. He sighs deeply, pulling her into his lungs; it feels like coming home.

First he waters her plants, which are looking half dead, and makes a mental note to use watering them as the reason he came here if asked. Next he opens her gun safe, and is struck to find her service weapon holstered and tucked neatly inside with the safety on. She doesn’t have her gun? What the hell kind of assignment is this? He brings in her mail, which is no help at all, and leaves it stacked on the counter. Next he lays down on her bed, shoving his face into her pillow and breathing the smell of her shampoo for a few minutes before he has the thought to look for her overnight bag.

Scully has a go bag in the trunk of her car for emergencies, but given the opportunity she’ll use her overnight bag and pack for the weather, situation, etc. Opening her closet, he finds it on the floor near her laundry hamper, empty save for a travel size can of hairspray tucked into a side pocket. In her bathroom, he finds all her toiletries accounted for, including her toothbrush. The more he sees, the more confused he is. Even when he’d spent time undercover with dangerous individuals, he’d been allowed to bring his own toothbrush.

Moving to the hallway, he picks up her landline and dials.

“Dana?” Maggie Scully’s voice answers on the second ring.

“No, sorry, Mrs. Scully, it’s Fox Mulder.”

“I saw Dana’s name on the caller ID, is she with you?” Her voice carries worry.

“No, I’m just here at her apartment watering her plants, sorry to confuse you. Have you been in touch with Dana, Mrs. Scully?”

“No, Fox, I haven’t heard from her in weeks. She told me she had an assignment that would take her away for a while and that she’d be unreachable, but I’m a little concerned that she hasn’t contacted me yet.”

Mulder closes his eyes. “I wish I had anything to share, Mrs. Scully, but I’m in somewhat of the same boat. A.D. Skinner isn’t concerned and it does sound like he’s in touch with her, but I was hoping she might have called you.”

“I’m afraid not,” Maggie replies sadly.

“What did she tell you when she left? Did she share any information at all?” he asks hopefully.

“Um, let me think. She said she was going on an assignment and that she’d be out of touch for a few weeks. And she said she’d bring me some Tastykakes when she comes home,” she adds.

“Tastykakes, what are those?” Mulder asks, his investigative senses tingling.

“They’re a treat we always get when we go to Philadelphia; little packaged snack cakes. The kids always loved them.”

“Are they only available in Philadelphia?” he asks, heart pumping.

“I’m not sure, but that’s where we always get them,” Maggie says hopefully.

“Thank you, Mrs. Scully. That’s really helpful. I’ll let you know if I track her down, okay?”

“Thank you, Fox. Take care.”

Setting the phone back on its cradle, he does a little victory dance. It isn’t much, but it’s something. Scully is just a few hours away in the city of brotherly love.

Three weeks. It’s been three weeks of practicing stage sets and lap dances in the afternoon, serving drinks in the evening and well into the middle of the night, and then sleeping until noon. Her arms and legs bear fading bruises from her acclimation to Paul the Pole, the crooks of her elbows and knees sporting slight calluses that help her get a good grip (with an assist from the grip powder Angel has instructed her to use). She’s given Tibet and Angel dozens of lap dances each, the other standing by to coach her on making sure one foot stays on the floor. After three weeks, she found that her barriers were mostly in her head. Once she was able to let go and just move, she’s actually pretty good at it.

That day she arrives in pink cotton shorts and a white tank top, now so used to being scantily clad that it no longer makes her self-conscious, and prepares to do a full dress rehearsal of the routine she worked up with Angel’s help. Queenie and Ricky sit down to observe what is more or less a test of her readiness, and one she intends to pass. Where she would have expected to feel nervous, she’s excited, ever the eager student motivated to impress and exceed expectations. Ben kills the daytime lights to make it look and feel like it would if they were open, and her set begins.

Moving onto the stage, she can barely see her audience with the bright lights trained on her. She quickly gets lost in the movements she rehearsed, feeling graceful as she circles the pole and hitches an arm around it, spinning in a feathery arc. When the point in the dance comes to remove her shirt, she does so as a well practiced step in a strategy, without any feelings of exposure. Soon enough her bra follows suit and she is left with only her tiny pink shorts, nipples hardening as they graze the pole. The undulation of her hips, the pop of her booty out towards the audience, the slip of a hand down the inside of her thigh; they’re each a part of the method. Precisely planned and executed in much the same way as she might dismantle and clean her gun, or prepare a slide for the microscope. It isn’t much different than performing an autopsy, she had reasoned. Except instead of: Y incision, open rib cage, remove organs, examine stomach contents, collect specimens, examine brain, it’s: arch back, grasp breasts, spread legs, thrust pelvis, rub thighs, grind on the pole. She’s always found her strength in taking a clinical, detached approach to difficult tasks, and that turns out to be just as effective on the stage as it is in the lab.

As she finishes, her small audience erupts into applause, standing in ovation as Ben brings the house lights up halfway. Scully smiles shyly, stepping down to join them on the floor as Ricky approaches her and slings an arm around her bare shoulders.

“That was fucking fantastic, Desi. Sexy as fuck. Let me see you do a lap dance now.”

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #case file #case fic #x files fanfic

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

Text

HASO, “Letting Go.”

Wrote this today, hope you like it, and hope you all have a great day :)

“We have to take him to a hospital.”

His hearing echoed, his ears rang, and his body felt cold and numb. He hurt all over.

“No! That's the last thing he needs right now.”

“Not to be rude but, are you stupid! The last tie i checked, I am the only one here with a Doctorate in actual doctoring.

The world swirled slowly to the left and then to the right.

“Last time I checked I’ve been in his shoes before. You have any idea what they are going to do, they are going to assume he jumped off that bridge on purpose. They are going to strap him down, which is going to make things worse, they are going to bring in psych, who are then going to determine that he should be locked down. That is the last thing this man needs right now, and believe me I have been in his shoes.” he faded out and then back in again.

“Than what do you suggest.”

“You’re a doctor aren’t you, so as long as we have you, he is going to be fine. Let's just get him back to my hotel, but I am telling you the last thing he needs is a noisy smelly hospital room.”

“And how are we going to get him back?”

He faded back in and back out again, “I can carry him.”

“He weights over two hundred pounds.” “Than I will take lots of breaks.”

He faded out again, this time for a long while, waking up only briefly an unknown time later. He was lying, uncomfortably over someone else’s shoulder and staring at the ground as it passed by below him. Little streaks of light dotted his vision from the pain, and he felt back unconscious before he could really understand what was going on.

***

Kier Lindsay stared down at the young man, watching as the strange little alien creature got to work. He had once heard that multitasking was pretty much impossible for humans as the brain was too interconnected to allow for it, but his creature didn’t seem to have any problems. All four of its arms seemed to work independently of each other as it stitched the unconscious man back into one piece. Looking him over the doctor had determined that he had managed to fracture his good leg and some of the bones in his right arm and side, but otherwise he was less injured than they had hoped.

Then again this was without considering the psychological duress he might be under at the moment.

He grimaced thinking about it.

He had been there before, he had been there and he had hurt a lot of people in the process.

He continued to watch as the alien stitched the other man up with great precision…

Man?

Honestly he wasn’t much more than a kid, his face was still smooth, unscared by time . Not a hint of white showed in his blond hair, and as he slept, the lines of his face were soft enough that Kier couldn’t shake the feeling that he WAS nothing more than a child.

A child who had had responsibility placed on him far to soon.

To be only in you late twenties and have command of an entire galactic armada.

That was too much to ask for anyone, much less someone like him. Kier couldn’t shake the thoughts as he stared down thinking about how despite technically being an adult for a long enough time, he doubted this man had ever been given a chance to grow up, at least not in the right ways. Turned to the academy at age fourteen, he had been doing adult jobs for longer than most people. He had been thrown into an environment where intelligence and performance mattered but social opportunities were sort of lacking, and then to be thrown right onto the enterprise and into war before trying to recover and immediately turning back to the one group of people that had failed him so badly…..

Adam vir was just a kid, an overly optimistic too trusting kid who had been taken advantage of by the system time and time again. He was like a golden retriever hurt by his master but still loyal enough to come crawling back.

It almost made him sick to watch, but he knew just by looking at him that he would never consider leaving.

Even if it were for his health.

Kier sighed and sat down by the bed staring at the boy with his chin cupped in one hand.

He had a son about Adam Vir’s age, a boy that was just beginning to pull his life together into some semblance of controlled. It had taken him a lot of mistakes and a lot of experience to figure out who he was, and he ached for the realisation that this man probably never got that.

He knew the feeling all too well.

He shook himself a little, dad mode was something you couldn’t really just turn off, at least not in his case. If there were people younger than him, he felt the automatic obligation to adopt them whether they wanted it or not.

Young people deserved guidance from someone who was older and the more people to do it the better. Lindsay hadn’t seen any of Adam’s family members at the trial, which didn’t necessarily mean anything, but he also got the impression that maybe the had avoided telling them on purpose, which was another red flag he was going to have to discuss with the boy woke up.

If he woke up.

***

He woke up some time later, though he couldn’t have guessed what time. The room was dark aside from the blue light of the TV. A little bit of natural light filtered in from the window, but rain clouds dotted blanketed the sky above. Rain pattered against the window in sheets obscuring the city landscape.

He groaned and tilted his head to the side.

A soft whimper, and something warm and wet ran over the back of his hand.

He tilted his head to the side.

The room was small, only big enough for a queen sized bed, a tv and a small desk. There was adoor to a small bathroom right next to a door that likely lead out into the hallway. The hotel room was small, but clean.

And it wasn’t his.

He turned his head a little further, gritting his teeth against the pain as his bleary eyes fell on the silhouette of a man sitting at the end of the bed. He was slightly hunched forward one hand resting on his knee as he flipped through the channels.

“Adam, can you hear me.’

He turned his head a little further to the right, to where Kril was standing beside him, a look of concern on his face.

The silhouette turned to face him, no more than a balck blob against the light. It was impossible to make out his face.

“Where am I? He croaked

The man stood and stepped forward, stepping out of the way of the TV and allowing some light to fall on the side of his face, “My hotel room, sorry about how cramped it is, but until yesterday I was kind of short on cash.”

Adam blinked, the cogs in his brain grinding to a slow start as he stared at the man’s face, which was familiar but he just couldn’t…

“Cigarette.”

It was the first word his brain could think of to describe the man when he finally recognised him, and in his goggy state it was the only thing he could think of, “Where do you even buy those these days.”

“Lets just say if I could quit my smoking habit than maybe I wouldn’t be so short of cash…. Anyway, how are you feeling.”

“Like shit…. What…. What happened.”

The other man sighed and pulled up the chair from the desk, sitting next to him, “You must have had a pretty bad PTSD attack. Looks like you jumped off an overpass and then rad headfirst into a brick wall.”

He grunted, “that explains a lot I guess….” he paused, “I thought…. I thought I was doing fine. I felt…. Fine and now…” A hand rested on his shoulder, “I know, I understand.”

Adam blinked, squinting at him slightly in the darkness, “Who are you/”

“The name is Kier but most of my friends call me Lindsay. I don’t know why, guess our days in the army just sort of rubbed off on us, now we only refer to people by their last names really.”

“What were you doing at the trial.”

The man smiled a little sadly, “Watching some assholes git their comeuppance, oh, and being awarded about five million dollars compensation.”

It took Adam even longer to digest that, “You….. you’re Steel eye-” The last two words came out as a squeak.”

Lindsay turned on the light by the bed, bathing them both in a warm yellow glow. Now that Adam could get a good look at him, he saw an older man probably in his late forties or early fifties. His hair was steel grey but well groomed, and he had the body of a man half his age. He wore only a tattered flannel rolled up to the sleeves and a white T-shirt. The back and sides of his arms were dotted with familiar circular scars all with a silver sort of sheen.

And, surprisingly, little silver dots….

Iron eye implants.

He turned his head to stare up at him, “You…. you are one of the five.”

“Yep, we never met during the war but I’ve been watching your career on the news for some time now. Some real impressive stuff kid.” he smiled, smiled and easy smile of someone who actually meant it.

Adam felt a sudden pang of guilt and shame.

For a moment he couldn’t figure out what it had stemmed from, until he realised. This man seemed fine, and here he was a complete wreck.

“How are you….. Ok after all that?” he wondered almost bitterly.

Lindsay shook his head, “Don’t start with that. I've jumped from one war to another my entire life. I have more experience than you.”

Adam went quiet, “So you were fine…. After steel eye.”

The man snorted, “No… no no, not even close.”

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking.”

The man shrugged, “Lost both my legs in the war, one above the knee and one below. When I got home my family didn’t have enough money to get me good prosthetics, so I was pretty much wheelchair bound for a year or so.” he sighed, “I came back a shell of a man to a family who really needed a father. It was so bad for a time, everyday I thought about just…. Not being there anymore. I didn’t talk to my wife, I didn’t talk to my kids, and when I did speak I was angry all the time or apathetic.” His shoulders slumped, “For a time, I didn’t have much of a relationship with my middle daughter or my oldest son. I had drug withdrawals so bad I even wheeled myself halfway across town to try and find something…. Heroin maybe, anything that might take the edge off,” He snorted sadly, “I see it as a blessing now that no one would sell to me. I went over the edge drinking, and chain smoking and trying to bum pills off of any doctor I could find. Luckily with regulations on pills these days, I wasn’t given any.”

Adam felt his mouth go dry, “That bad.”

He nodded, “Woke up screaming most nights because of the dreams. For a while my kids moved out of the house because my wife was scared for thor safety.” He held up a hand, “Even during that time I would never have hit them intentionally, but my dreams were getting so bad that I would wake up flailing, and I would jump at the smallest sound. Anything could set me off.”

He sighed sadly, “But my wife bless her soul, is the strongest woman I know.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a photograph showing it to Adam with a look of pride so profound it made even Adam’s heart ache.

What he saw was a nice family. Two younger kids, a teenage boy, and a woman.

She had short black hair spiked up and dark lipstick on, and the look on her face was indicative of someone full of mischievous humor.

“My angel. She stayed by me even though she should have left. I tried to get her to leave, even made my behavior worse at one point to drive her off. She SHOULD have left me, but she didn’t. I had the mot amazing support system. She held me from falling any further into it, and my little girl, my little girl Bethany, that little girl pulled me out by my hair and dragged me back to reality. She was too young to realise how horrible I was being, and she just thought I was sick. No matter how much my wife tried to keep hr away from me, she always came to see me somehow, with ‘medicine’.”

He smiled, “Generally it was just a tube of baby M&Ms. I refused at first, but she insisted, and the one day I decided to take them just to quiet her down, she told me that I would be all better.”

He waited with pent up breath.

“That night, I slept without nightmares…. The placebo effect is a hell of a thing if a child can convince a grown ass man that M&Ms ar medicine. I woke up and my head had never been so clear in my entire life. I saw what I was doing to them, and to my little girl and to my other kids…. I have never cried that hard in my entire life, but it was just what I needed. Some emotion to break the cycle of anger and apathy. It wasn’t an easy road from there, but I finally got smart and started listening to my wife. Somehow managed to get my kids to forgive me, and from there we worked as a team to get me back on my feet.” he patted the cigarette in his pocket, “This is what remains from those days…. Can’t seem to quit, but working on it.”

Adam was quiet for some time,

“It was that hard on your family.”

“It was. I am glad they stayed but at the same time I wish they hadn’t been so hurt by me.

He sighed and leaned his head back, “I don’t think that is possible for me.”

A hand turned to rest down on his shoulder, “I know it sounds hard right now but…. I have a theory if you want to hear it.”

He sighed, “Shoot, it's not like I have any other bright ideas.”

“What are you?”

“What do you mean.”

“I mean when all the trappings are stripped away from you, your job and your title…. What makes you…. You.”

He paused for a moment, opened his mouth and then closed it, “I…. Im a….I….” The other man waited, his eyes sad.

The only things Adam could think of were related to his job.

When he was silent for some minutes, the man patted his arm, “All these years of service and you've never taken time to construct a framework for yourself that can survive outside of your job. If you keep defining yourself by what you do and how well you preform than you aren’t going to last. You constantly do everything for everyone else, but why not think about doing something for yourself for once, be completely selfish. Don’t go on vacation because, I bet this will calm me down and make me a better leader when I return, go on vacation because you bloody well want to job be damned.”

Adam opened his mouth to protest, but the man silenced him.

“Even if you love your job, you need breaks from it. You need to set the line to where your job ends and you begin, otherwise you won’t have a personality left when you are done. Take some time to fix YOU before lending yourself to everyone else.”

He rested his head back, “That sounds….. Difficult.”

The man patted him on the arm, “You’ve proven you can do hard things, now is just the time to do another hard thing.”

Adam nodded but inside his head he was beginning to feel a little hopeless. He knew that Lindsay was right. He knew that he was messed up, and everything he had done up to this point was just going to be a bandage.

And until he was fixed.

He was going to have to give up a few things.

He hated the idea of hurting people like Lindsay had described, so…. So that meant doing something that he wasn’t going to like.

“Do you…. Do you mind if I…. speak with you…. On occasion.”

The man smiled, “I already put my number in your phone if you need me. I work law enforcement now so I might be busy, but if you need my help Ill do my best.”

***

He didn’t want the court’s blood money. He would have tossed it away if he could, but he knew that was just his confused mind talking. Money was money, so he mostly gave it away. Gave it away to his parents for their retirement, and to his brothers and sisters for their kids college funds. He gave some to his brother to get him a better house in a new area, but he kept some for himself. It would have been irresponsible not to buy himself a house, to get himself a place away from his job and the ship.

He didn’t know where to buy it at first thinking that earth was too mundane but anything further out was too far removed. So, he bought a little private property on the moon. It cost a shit ton of money but, he had that in spades now. He only told his family about it.

They weren’t exactly happy with them when he finally told them where he had been. They had wanted to be there to support him, but he couldn’t find t in himself to feel bad that they hadn’t see the pictures and the videos he had been forced to see. He apologized and promised he would do better in the future.

He felt disconnected from himself.

Out of touch.

The crew of the Omen was just as angry with him, perhaps even more so than his family.. The intervening days that led him back to his ship feeling detached was like…. Some sort of horrible dream. He felt like he was slipping backward down a slippery slope and watching the light fade away from him.

He was scrambling on the rocks but couldn’t find purchase.

Perhaps it was the idea of what he had to do next that hurt him so much. Hurt him so much that he didn’t want to think about it, but he knew he had to. He didn’t want to but he knew he had to. It was the only way he was going to be able to feel ok about himself, about fixing himself.

Maybe things would change when he finally came back.

Maybe when he recovered, he could change what he was about to do.

And maybe he was about to ruin it forever.

He walked down the hallway of the engineering corridor despondent, like he was watching himself in third person.

He reached out a hand that didn’t feel like his and knocked on the wall of the ship.

A familiar face turned to look at him from her workspace in the dark. Sunny stood and paused to look at him, “Adam, are you alright.”

“Sunny…. We…. need to talk.”

She paused eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Are you ok.” she repeated.

He walked in taking a seat on her work bench and staring down at his hands.

“Is this about, the trial….. I mean yes I am a little mad that you didn’t tell me. Is it because I’m a Drev, is it because it would have looked bad. I know I don’t understand human politics, but maybe….”

He held up a hand, and she grew quiet.

He sat for a long moment fighting himself on the inside,and then forcing himself to look up at her. He could feel hot tears prickling at the back of his eyes though, for some reason he couldn’t get them to fall.

She deserved that he at least LOOK at her.

He felt sick.

He just wanted to throw up.

This…. This was the hardest thing he had ever done.

“Sunny…. I… while I was away, at the trial.”

She stared at him slow horror and confusion passing across her face.

“Well, I learned some things about myself. Number one being that, I….. I never recovered from what happened to me. From Steel eye and the war. Ive been bandaging it up for the past few years assuming that I can fix it, but at this point…. I wonder if I ever will.” He took a deep breath and locked eyes with her, “I’m broken, and until I can fix myself…. I think its best if-”

“No, no no no that's not how this works.”

He continued speaking, “I think it's best if we take a break.”

“NO!”

“Sunny I love you but I. I am not Capable of being what you need or deserve.” he stood reaching a hand forward, “I can’t subject you to myself like that.”

She jerked away from his hand, “that should be MY decision it would be OUR decision.”

“Sunny please…. I am so sorry.”

“On my planet, battle pairs fight WITH each other no matter how hard the battle is.”

His voice shook timorous and fading fast, “And on my planet, sometimes loving someone means letting them go.”

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themonkeycabal · 4 years ago

Text

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Episode 1 SPOILERS

If you need to blacklist, I will be tagging all things as #tfatws and/or #tfatws spoilers

My roommate keeps calling this The Falcon and the Snowman. I'm not entirely sure it's accidental.

I was going to watch at midnight and then fell asleep. Betrayal. I will not forgive this, brain.

Bucky Barnes character development. Sam Wilson character development. Six full episodes of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson. When we watched Civil War, did we think we'd actually be lucky enough to get a buddy idiot cop movie? Let alone six hours of it? #blessed

What are we expecting here? I have no idea, honestly. I think all the clips we've been seeing are from the first couple episodes, so they've hidden any sort of plot from us. We know Baron Zemo's around with his stupid purple ski mask and burning hatred for superheroes and probably specifically for Bucky who he tried (and honestly kind of succeeded, before then ultimately failing dramatically) to set up. And Sharon Carter will turn up at some point. OMG guys, Sharon Carter character development!

I'm just here for the buddy bickering and badassery.

SPOILERS BELOW

New World Order: Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes realize that their futures are anything but normal. *Realize*? lol

Also, it's tagged as "science fiction, action-adventure, buddy" Awww.

Aww, Sam looks sad as he gazes at The Shield.

"How's it feel?" "Like it's someone else's." "It isn't."

That's right, Sam! Listen to that voice. That's yours now, baby.

We're just going to roll right into a mission. Rescuing a Captain Vassant, whose plane fell out of contact shortly after take off, from the ridiculously named group LAF, somewhere over Tunisia. Sam's got to keep LAF from doing bad things and the US Military can't be seen doing anything blah blah blah, violation of treaties, yada yada. And Sam's all "blah blah got it". We're on the same page, Sam and me. Nobody wants to hear it, Briefing Exposition Guy.

We will have a Lt. Torres on the ground following along and offering helpful commentary as they go.

Sam is warned to be subtle as he falls backwards out of the cargo plane in very dramatic fashion and then swoops off on his brightly colored wings. lol

Sam gets to the captain's plane but the pilot is dead and a shady LAF guy is piloting. Oh no. Hey, it's Batroc. Last seen getting his ass kicked by Captain America in "CA: The Winter Soldier". He makes some jokes about their prisoner - presumably Captain Vassant. Awful cocky for a guy with a history of getting stomped on, you know.

Anyway, he's about to get his ass kicked by a Captain America again as Sam breaks into the plane. You might just be using wing shields now, Sam, but you're Captain America in my heart. Also, hey, dumb bad guys, don't open fire with an automatic weapon inside a plane or the ricochets might kill your pilot. And his body will slump forward and put the plane into a steep dive.

Batroc distracts Sam while the bad guys gather up Vassant and jump out of the plane with him. They have wingsuits, but Sam has, you know, wings. And like a jet pack. Don't hit the canyon walls, Sam!

Somehow the bad guys have waiting gunships. Did they expect to jump out of the plane over this canyon? I can only assume. Red Wing takes care of one of the helicopters. Man these guys are a pain in the ass. They wing suit into one of the many many helicopters that just happen to be right in the right spot. They're racing for the Libyan border. Then Sam shows up, they throw Vassant out the copter again — this guy is having the worst day — and glide into another chopper.

Man ANOTHER gunship? The hell? They're causing serious ecological damage to this canyon, what with all the zillionty missiles they're firing at Sam. How strapped is this thing?

LT Torres is trying to keep up, and you know, trying to get Sam to not fly into Libyan territory and cause an international incident or some such. Sam is struck by inspiration and not by a missile. But, the missiles are following Sam and Sam is following Batroc's chopper. Sam zooms through the open doors of the chopper, knocks poor Vassant out of the chopper AGAIN (but then catches him), and LAF blows up their own helicopter. Alas, Batroc escaped.

Sam saves the day and LT Torres is like super excited. Don't break your humvee, Torres.

Torres and Sam stop by a tea shop in Tunis, or somewhere. Sam's trying to fix his tech that got a little shot up and Torres buys the tea. A man comes up and thanks Sam for saving his wife. It's sweet. And then Torres gets up and wanders about a bit with his phone as he exposits about LAF. Is Torres about to become a pin cushion? Only instead of pins it'll be bullets? I'm not feeling good about his continued health. He's too cute and earnest.

Oh, he's looking for some sort of hidden, augmented reality tag on the walls. A red handprint, id'ing some group that calls themselves the Flag Smashers. Bad guys are really scraping the bottom of the evil name barrel. Anyway, they think the world was better during the blip. Nothing says better like mass failure of infrastructure and probably world wide famine. They want a unified world without borders. I have big doubts the world would be a borderless utopia during a blip-like event. Power vacuums invite trouble, seldom unity.

Anyhoo. Sam kind of agrees with me, "every time something gets better for one group, it gets worse for another".

Torres will track the 'online chatter'. But he's also heard some wacky things about Steve Rogers, conspiracy theory stuff, "they think that he's in a secret base on the moon, looking down over us". LOL. What? Is Steve a moon angel now? or Santa Claus? "You didn't like fly him to the moon?" Sam assures him that's all very much silly foolishness. Steve's in Boca working on his tan.

Sam's back in D.C. giving a talk about Steve at the Smithsonian's National Air & Space museum. "And he mastered posing stoically". Hey, I have that picture. Also, RHODEY! Hi Rhodey!

"A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after 5 years away. Sending the world into turmoil." Again. I know this was meant to come out before WandaVision, but timeline-wise this works better.

"We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we're in. Symbols are nothing without the women and men that give them meaning." Sam holds up The Shield. "I don't know if there's been a greater symbol." Aww, he's retiring the shield. He hands it off to museum people and they put it in a display case. I think Rhodey has some thoughts about this. I suspect Rhodey maybe doesn't agree.

Sam and Rhodey wander through the Cap exhibit and Sam's talking about how when he left (or got snapped, it's not like you had a choice about that, Sam), his nephews were babies and now they're little men. Awww. Rhodey says Sam should bring them to D.C., he'll teach them how to fly, "the right way". lol.

Rhodey says it's crazy to think nobody will be carrying the shield. Sam points out they went 70 years without, so like …

Rhodey wants to know why Sam didn't take up the mantle. BTW, this is a cool exhibit, marvel peeps. Sam says it feels like it belongs to someone else … Steve. Rhodey says everything's broken. Allies are enemies, things are torn apart. People are looking for somebody to make it better. Having made his pitch, Rhodey leaves Sam to stare mournfully at the shield. I think you're afraid to pick up the shield, Sam. Afraid you won't measure up. But, you can do it. I have faith. Also, Steve was kind of a disaster in his own way. He wasn't perfect, which was the point of Steve as a hero. Pick up the shield, Sam.

A fancy hotel, chatting people in the lobby, up to a mezzanine, a group of very Russian oligarch looking dudes and their security. And lo! A metal arm punches through a wall and the Winter Soldier, looking very Winter Soldiery appears and stabs some dudes in the neck. This has a sepia, dream/nightmareness to it. Oh yeah, it's his old shiny silver arm. Totally a nightmare/very bad memory. "Hail Hydra" and he kills the head Russian guy. The poor dude who was just chatting in the lobby is caught trying to get into his door. He swears he didn't see anything, begs for his life and the Winter Soldier shoots him. Bucky wakes up, breathing heavily. Poor Bucky.

Glad he's in therapy. I'm sure goat herding in Wakanda was good and peaceful and all, but, goats will only get you so far. Also glad we've skipped the "wanted terrorist" part and gone on to traumatized hero.

I get the feeling he's not the best patient. He lies to his therapist straight off. Twice. lol. "You're a civilian now. With your history the government needs to know, you're not gonna … [therapist makes stabby motion]." lol (I love this actress by the way. She's been in everything for ages. She's great). "It's a condition of your pardon. So tell me about your most recent nightmare." "I didn't have a nightmare." She starts writing, Bucky objects and tells her she's being passive-aggressive, but he gives in.

He has a list of amends to make and three rules to follow. He crossed a name off. There's a Hydra pawn who's a senator, he helped her get into office. "After Hydra disbanded, she continued to use the power I gave her." Hmm. He tracks her car and listens in on her plotting to have a congressman killed.

* Rule number one: Can't do anything illegal.

He's hijacked the Senator's car and is remote controlling it, making it drive all out of control and freaking her out. He says he was collecting intel to give to an aide to convict her. Absolutely only did that. Not one illegal thing about that at all, no ma'am.

"Rule number two?" "Hmm. What was rule number two?" "Nobody gets hurt. It's a big one." "Then why isn't it rule number one?" Oh, Bucky, you're a jackass.

* Rule number two: Nobody gets hurt.

"I didn't hurt anybody. Promise." He totally broke a dude's hand and then punched him in the face, knocking him out. I mean, there's levels of 'hurt' I suppose.

"The whole point of making amends is to fulfill rule number three." "Of course I completed rule number three."

* Rule number three: "I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James 'Bucky' Barnes. And you're part of my efforts to make amends." He says to the corrupt senator he's just been terrifying. And then he walks away as a tac team pulls up. lol.

What I'm getting from this therapy session is that Bucky is a big fat fibber.

Also he's got a little black book full of names. Including, I see, H. Zemo. That's not going to go as smoothly as taking down a shady government fatcat, I think.

"So you did it all right, but it didn't help with the nightmares?" "Well, like I said, I didn't have any." Fibber.

People wanna help you Bucky and you can trust them. "I trust people," he mutters grumpily. She asks for his phone and he hands it over. Look, lady! Trust! Probably government mandated trust, but still!

"You don't have ten phone numbers on this thing." … I don't have ten phone numbers on my phone. :( "Oh, and you've been ignoring texts from Sam." Well …

"I am the only person you have called all week. That is so sad." lol. Tough love from the therapist. I'm feeling a little judged myself, though. "You're alone." ALRIGHT DON'T RUB IT IN!

"You're a hundred years old. You have no history. No family—" "Are you lashing out at me, doc? Because that's really unprofessional." I love you Bucky, but you are a disaster patient.

Bucky relents. "I'm trying. This is new for me. I didn't have a moment to deal with anything. I had a little calm in Wakanda. And other than that, I just went from one fight to another for 90 years." Get this man a goat farm!

"So now that you've stopped fighting, what do you want?" "Peace." A goat farm. "That is utter bullshit." lol "You're a terrible shrink." "I was an excellent soldier, so I saw a lot of dead bodies and I know how that can shut you down. And if you are alone, that is the quietest, most personal hell." Get some friends, Bucky. "I know you've been through a lot. But, you've got your mind back. You're being pardoned. These are good things. You're free." "To do what?"

On the streets of Brooklyn. Bucky breaks up an argument between neighbors about trashcans. Hey, Bucky has a friend! Yori Nakajima who's probably like 80+. Did you babysit him back in the day, Buck? har har. They were going to meet for lunch, but some punk named Unique was putting his trash into Mr. Nakajima's trash can and just derailed the whole day. The horror. No joke, though, people get so nutted up about that. It's weird to me. Of course, I did also have a neighbor who never put out his trash for pickup and just snuck out at night before trash day and distributed his garbage into in other people's bins. Cheapass.

"Hey man, I'm Unique. Like Monique but it's got a 'u' in there for uniqueness." Yeah, you should have let Yori smack him, Buck.

Well now Yori is just not in the mood for lunch. Bucky tries to persuade him, but one grumpy old man out grumps the other. "But Izzy. We always go to Izzy on Wednesday. What if I buy?" "Fine. But no talking." lol. BFFs!

Yori is looking at the obituaries. "Look, nobody made it past 90 this week." Bucky tsks "So young, such a shame."

Bucky kind of smiles at the girl behind the counter at the sushi joint, Yori tells him he should ask her out. Bucky makes a "are you nuts, shut up" face. That doesn't stop Yori. "He would like to take you out on a date. Maybe to bingo or a night of pinochle." You're a wild man, Yori!

She's down by it, though, and she and Yori hammer out the details while Bucky's like uh, okay, so wow, that's happening. "There's a dance to these things. You can't … you gotta warm up and I haven't danced since 1943."

Yori sees something and suddenly gets sad. His son loves red bean mochi. His son was a consultant, working abroad and he was killed. Oh. Oh Bucky, why you gotta … Yori's son was the innocent witness he killed at the hotel in his nightmare/memory. "I will never know what really happened to him." Brutal.

Delacroix, Louisana

Sam's on his way home. Wilson Family Seafood. Aww. His nephews are helping mom with the catch. "Blue for the snapper, orange for the white fish," Sam calls out. The boys run over to him. They do look like fine gentlemen. It's weird, Sam, I get it. I recently realized my oldest nephew will be 13 in May and it's like "no, he's only in kindergarten, what are you talking about?"

His sister greets him then tells him he's looking all sneaky. Sam deflects. Their boat has seen better days. The Paul & Darlene. Aww. Is that his parents names? "Baby being held together by duct tape and prayers." Just needs to float long enough for his sister to sell it. But Sam's all, uh I thought we were going to *discuss* that. Uh oh, family drama. "We did, and then you were off fighting Dr Space Cape or whatever (lol), while I was holding it together for five long years." Ouch.

Sam is not down by this selling the boat thing. His sister doesn't seem to think they're in a position to hold on to it. Also, she'd really like to not hash this out on the pier with like twenty other people around, Sam.

They get into more of an argument on the boat. The family biz is not doing well financially. Sarah won't let Sam help for some reason, and he makes some comment about the house and loans and she punches him in the chest. lol "I forgot how hard you hit."

Sam insists they can turn it around, consolidate loans. And she's all, been there done that, I've come to terms with this. He's a persistent little jerk. This is such a perfectly sibling argument. Notably he has moved himself out of punching range.

Aww, she wants to believe he can save the boat, but she has DOUBTS.

Back in Brooklyn. Bucky attempts his date. He turns up at the end of the sushi girl's shift and gives her flowers. "Well, if that's not the most adorably old-fashioned thing anyone's ever done."

They chat while she tidies. He tried online dating oh lol. It didn't take. She tells him "You sound like my dad. Wait how old are you?" "Hundred and six." Oh yeah, what a funny joke. Next she wants to know why he's wearing gloves. "I have … um … poor circulation." He grimaces at himself and glances out the window. Smooth as silk, Bucky. Smoooooth.

"Let's play a game." Now, I'm thinking like some weird dating word/get-to-know-each-other game or something. I don't know. But, nope, she means Battleship. lol. I like her.

The drinking game version of battleship. Bucky sucks at it. "You sure can drink." "Yeah, well." Super assassin, unfair advantage.

We're just going to rub in this whole The Winter Soldier killed Yori's son thing, as she says it's nice that he's spending time with the old man. Since he was all messed up after his son was murdered and how it was extra hard because he didn't know what happened. I'm not sure this is healthy, Bucky.

"There's no word for someone whose kids die." Okay, ouch, lady, jeez. Bucky looks like he wants to puke. Or crawl into a deep dark hole. Or something. "Because it's the worst thing that can happen." Bucky nopes right out the front door. So, maybe they should have played pinochle instead.

Bucky goes to Yori. Are you really going to tell this man you murdered his son when you were a brain-washed Hydra assassin? Yori asks how the date was, and Bucky sees a shrine to the man's son in the apartment. Poor Bucky. He makes some excuse about owing Yori for lunch and leaves. Yori's name is in his book of amends. :(

Back in Louisiana. Sam and the kids are packing up meals. His sister maybe wants to sell meals in addition to fish. Sam says they've got to get going to their appointment at the bank. She's says it's in an hour. Sam must be just the worst brother to live with "There's no such thing as on time. You're either early or late. Pick one." Man, no wonder he gets punched.

Switzerland

Lt Torres is walking down a street with an unusually large number of people just sort of milling around in the middle of the street looking at their phones. He's got his kind of hidden, recording. He stops a guy and asks if he knows what they're supposed to be doing. Oh it's the flag munchers, or whatever. There's a weird phony bird whistle and then people gather around a person handing out masks with red handprints on them. His decoy bad guy phone chirps and gives the order to run. A guy jumps out of a nearby building with two huge duffle bags (of money it seems) and walks off while the previously milling people become a seemingly panicked mob, distracting police and whatnot.

Torres tries to arrest the jumper guy, who appears to have some super strength as he kicks a policeman halfway across the street. Torres, you're cute, but not super bright. Torres gets body slammed and then stomped. He survives again, however, defying the odds.

At the bank. The account manager keeps giving Sam the side-eye as he goes through their paperwork. "Do I know you from somewhere." Sam's all modest, "I don't know. Do you?" And then he makes a little wing flappy move with his hands. lol. What a nerd. "Falcon!" Then he takes a selfie with Sam. Sarah is very done with all this. She tries to get them back on track. Account guy wants to know how Avengers make a living. Probably not looking good for your loan, Sam.

"Is there some kind of fund for heroes? Or did Stark pay you when he was around? My condolences, by the way."

Yeah, financially this is looking bad, my dude. "You have no income over the last five years." Well, but, he was blipped. I mean …

Alas, shot down for the loan.

Sam and Sarah argue on the street. Ah, Sam ran off to the Air Force and didn't deal with what was going on at home. Oh my, this is getting ugly. Speaking as someone who got disowned on account of a family business, let me just say, they're not easy. Nuh-uh.

"Half the boat's mine and so is the house. We're not selling our family's legacy." "You gonna do me like what when you know I'm right?"

I get it might be awkward to ask, but I bet you could have asked Pepper for a loan, Sam, and she would have given it to you gladly. Come on, man.

Later. Sam's working on the boat's engine, and it's not cooperating. In the cabin he looks at the family pictures on all the walls. He's having a rough day. About as rough as Torres who texts him to find a secure line and call him along with a selfie of his bruised and battered face. #important (lol, really?)

Sam watches the footage Torres caught and they chat about how Torres was supposed to be doing that stuff online and not getting his face kicked in in Switzerland.

Sarah interrupts and turns on the TV. Some guy is giving a speech about how everybody needs a hero. "We need someone who can inspire us again. Someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So on behalf of the Department of Defense and our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero." hmm, no comment. Except, you should have taken up the shield, Sam. Now it's Sam's turn to look like he's going to puke. What did I say about power vacuums? Somebody will fill them, whether you want them to or not.

This new guy looks like a goober. There, I said it.

credits

So … lots of setup. And very clear on the two guys trying to figure out where they fit in this world post blip and big wars. Both of them trying to fix broken families.

Plus a goober in a Cap suit.

So far so good.

#tfatws #tfatws spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier spoilers

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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Loop Number Three Hundred Twelve

Hello who wants a quick one shot about Time Loops!

Summary: Patton is having a really bad day, and Virgil and Janus might just have a fix. He just wishes he found them three hundred loops ago.

Word Count: 5453

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders

Read on AO3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Janus is folding origami snakes when Virgil finds him.

Which, in itself, is not new or unusual. Janus has been making origami creatures since before Virgil had ever met him: cutting perfect squares of papers, folding along invisible lines, creating something new from the boringness. Some people like making tiny stars, but Janus turns squares of paper into pocket sized friends. Some of Virgils’s favorite presents are books in which he found little purple and gold paper spiders tucked between the pages, or the cranes that he unfolded to find little sweet and sappy messages for him, or when he was emptying out his school bag and found butterflies hidden in the depths, left there with care and love and waiting to be discovered on a rainy day.

Janus folds origami and Virgil keeps every single one he’s ever gotten his hands on-- sometimes even going as far as to dig the few Janus recycled out of the bin and keep them in his collection.

So the origami isn’t necessarily new or weird or confusing.

Finding him behind the school building, cutting class to fold them is.

Janus is, despite his outward appearance and his claims to the otherwise, a huge nerd. Virgil finds that adorable about him: the way he gets excited to go to school and learn something new, the bounce in his step when he was heading towards his psychology class, the rumbling of his words when he forgot to take a breath while describing history to him. He’s a nerd who reads autobiographies with crappy romance novel covers strapped on them and begs Virgil to watch the new Netflix documentaries with him.

When they had been seven, Janus had been very adamant about being a host on the History Channel. Virgil had been interested as long as he got to be the guy that went out and found Mothman to invite on to Janus’s show.

(Sometimes Virgil finds himself missing the simplicity of being seven-years-old and knowing what he wants to do with his life.)

Still Janus isn’t the type to cut class usually. Playing hookie was Virgil’s game, not his. But Janus hadn’t shown up to meet him outside his locker at the break between their classes, and Virgil had made the decision that locating Janus took priority over Personal Finance.

Its nice outside, far nicer than it has any right to be. The sun is shining, with just enough heat to make Virgil consider taking off his jacket (he doesn’t), a breeze carries through the air playing with his bangs, and the bells had just rang so everyone is in class and not outside. There’s barely any noise out here: a zombie apocalypse picturesque scene. It used to unnerve him, but now it just gives him peace of mind.

Behind the school is his fifth place to check, right behind: the far corner of the library that Janus likes to power nap in during lunch, the stairwell to the roof that is supposed to be locked but they’d jimmied open last year, Janus’s actual class where his seat was empty and several kids glanced at Virgil as he had scurried by, and the parking lot where Virgil checked to make sure that Janus hadn’t just driven away and left him in this hell alone without even a text message goodbye.

Janus is, in fact, still at the school, sitting in grass against the wall of the school that faces the parking lot. If Virgil hadn’t been looking for him, he might have mistaken him for a dark shrub or the Art Club's newest modern art installation. His bag is next to him, half his books spilling out into the lawn and at least a whole tree’s worth of folded paper around him. The piles of origami snakes remind Virgil of noodles, a mixture of colors and then twice as many in just plain white.

“Hey,” Virgil says, approaching slowly in case this is one of those times when Janus wants to be alone more than he wants to feel alone.

Janus folds another crease with the edge of his thumb nail and throws his sloppily made friend into the pile with the others. There’s a stack of pre-cut paper next to him, but it's all loose leaf paper. Which meant that he had folded his way through his stash of actual origami colored paper, which meant that he had been doing this since a lot longer than before second block, like Virgil feared.

Janus sighs thumping his head back against the brick walls and picks up another sheet. Virgil takes that as a sign to sit down next to him. He drops his bag off at his feet and reaches around the assortment of pins (Xmen, Marvel, gay flag, banned books week, one from a video game he liked the art of but had never played, etc) to unzip the smallest pocket. He pulls out another stack of the thin paper in an assortment of colors and places it on top of Janus’s current stack.

“So,” Virgil says, picking a snake off the ground. “Wanna talk about it?”

Janus flips the snake over and begins the process of folding the tail, ruthlessly. “Do I want to talk about it,” He echoes sourly, pressing each fold like it was a matter of life and death. “No, I do not want to talk about it. Because its stupid and a waste of time and I shouldn’t care but I still do and you have so many better things to do than listen to me whine about Patton Hart, yet again!”

Janus folds the head down and then stars into the empty eyes with a glare.

Virgil points his own snake at Janus and wiggles it a bit, “If its bothering you this much, then it can’t be stupid. And besides I love hearing about how much you hate Patton Hart. What did he do this time?”

“I don’t hate…” Janus lets out a sigh, “He didn’t do anything. In fact he didn’t even show up to class today. I heard a couple sophomores say he was acting funny earlier so I assume he went home early.”

Virgil frowns at that, trying to think back to the morning. He’d been running late and preoccupied with a Spanish test that he had forgotten he had first block, but he does remember seeing Roman and Patton in the halls. They hadn’t been holding hands like usual, which is probably why it stuck in Virgil’s head. They were the most lovey-dovey couple in the whole school: holding hands, kissing, flamboyant declarations of love... Virgil has nightmares about the way that Roman had asked Patton to Prom Junior year and had made Janus swear that if he ever plans on taking Virgil to a dance, he wouldn’t do it with glitter, the marching band, and in front of the whole school.

Patton had also looked different, Virgil remembers. Less cheery, more despondent. He had a smile on his face, but it looked forced and his eyes were glazed over like he wasn’t listening to anything at all.

Which, okay, fair. Roman tended to say the same things every day but phrased them differently. There were really only oh-so-many ways to say the words “I love you” and Roman had used up all of them in freshman year.

“So he wasn’t there,” Virgil says, shrugs, and takes a moment of silence to hope that Patton is getting some well needed sleep: Patton is one of those guys that just...finds a way to be involved with everything. Bake sales, choir, poetry club, talent show, office runner, treasurer of the student council-- if there’s something anyone needs to get done, Patton probably can do it. Not to mention he’s the nicest person Virgil has ever met. He honestly sees the good in people and its a shame that he’s dating Roman, because otherwise he and Janus would have invited him into their relationship a while ago.

(Roman isn’t exactly someone Janus or Virgil could stand on a weekly basis, much less daily. Virgil is pretty sure if Roman ever tried any romantic shit that he pulls on Patton, on Virgil he’ll spontaneously combust. Janus gets hives from being in close proximity to the gooey lovefest that Roman brings around any time he opens his mouth. And of course, Roman isn’t the type to share anything.)

((Ninety percent of their relationship these days is locking eyes while Roman did something and fake gagging like the mature adults they were.))

“What’s the big de--” Virgil stops, “Wait, isn’t debate today?”

“And take a guess who was my partner,” Janus summarizes. He tosses the snake to the ground and picks up another sheet of paper. “He...The Dragon Witch immediately failed me because he didn’t….and I couldn’t…”

He messes up the fold because his fingers are shaking too much. Virgil gently reaches out and takes the paper from his fingertips. It floats down to join the other snakes, and Virgil gives Janus’s hands a squeeze.

There’s a welt of anger in his chest, bubbling up in a nice simmer. He hates the Dragon Witch, although he’s never had her class or even knows her real name (Roman had coined the title in freshman year back when he had been a benchwarmer for the football team and it had caught on until the whole school used it). She’s known for being generally awful to every student that came in, a little unhinged, and even her own daughter-- a girl in the grade below them-- agrees that nobody wants to be in her class. Unfortunately, despite the many protests held by small pockets of students, the Dragon Witch has tenure and the school board’s stance is “if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it”. Ergo, she still lives on this plane of existence and Virgil thinks about egging her car often. Probably too often.

“Its stupid,” Janus repeats and the cavity where Virgil’s heart should be aches a little for him, “I know she’s had it out for me. Ever since that first day when I pointed out all the books on the syllabus were written by rich white men. But it was just… I felt really good about this one, Vee.”

Virgil knows this. Janus had been practically vibrating since the assignment had been given out. He’d gone above and beyond with his research for the topic-- something about selflessness that had gone straight over Virgil’s head when Janus had been talking about it. Patton hadn’t even been that bad of a partner, Janus had said, despite never having time to practice for it. They had exchanged numbers and texted details and notes to one another all week.

If Virgil hadn’t spent most of the afternoons lying next to Janus playing League of Legends and listening to Janus’s black pen scratch out preparation notes, he might have been jealous of how much attention Janus had been giving Patton. (and vise versa.)

“We were going to win,” Janus says softly. “And then Patton decided to just not show the fuck up! Why can’t I count on anyone but you? Why must I suffer in a world full of idiots?”

“Hey, at least he’s cute,” Virgil says.

“At least he’s cute,” Janus agrees, resignedly. “Do you think he’s going to break up with Roman?”

Virgil shrugs, “Do you want to ask him to join us if he does?”

“I would never pass up an opportunity to spite Roman like that,” Janus says, which is actually code for “I would never pass up an opportunity to dote on Patton and Virgil, do you think he’ll let us paint his nails, I have the perfect shade of blue to match his shoelaces--”

(They’ve had this conversation at least once every season since Janus had caught Virgil sighing at the smaller boy in the halls midway through freshman year.)

Janus wiggles his hands from Virgil’s and picks up the unfinished snake but its softer now, less angry and more care. When he completes it, he points it at Virgil and offers a guilty half smile.

“Sorry for making you miss class.”

Virgil wants to laugh because really that was the last thing on his mind right now. He shuffles through the snakes on the ground picking out his favorites to add to his collection. “Nah, its cool. You can just do my taxes and budgeting in the future and we’ll call it even. What are you gonna do with all of these?”

Janus hums, looking at all of them, “Maybe we can hide them around school to confuse people.”

“Can we write “you’re next” in a red pen on the inside of them?” Virgil asks with a grin, “like some horror movie shit?”

“Whatever you desire, darling,” Janus says and Virgil is incredibly grateful that he’s in love with his best friend. Virgil doesn’t usually count himself as lucky, but Janus had to be some kind of miracle: a person who understood Virgil the way that no one else ever bothered to. Janus has the type of laughter that makes everyone else want to laugh as well, the type of smile that begs for mischief, the type of loyalty that reassures Virgil no matter what happens they have each other’s backs.

Also he’s pretty, and Virgil likes staring at pretty things.

Janus leans forward and gives him a peck on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You missed,” Virgil says with a stupid ass smile, because he’s stupidly in love and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Janus rolls his eyes very fondly and leans in again, until Virgil can see every shade of brown and green in his mismatched eyes, until he can feel Janus’s breath on his face, until Virgil loses track of the nanometers between them. Virgil’s eyes are half closed already, anticipating how the rest of their newly established free time is going to be spent and not feeling a speck of embarrassment or guilt about it--

And then he sees the movement out of the corner of his eyes and freezes up. He’s certain without looking that it is a teacher and oh god they were going to get expelled for something. There’s too much stuff around them-- their bags, the millions of snakes, their own bodies-- and even if they left everything there they’d surely get found out from that stuff, and then the school would call his mom and Virgil did not want to have that conversation with her again.

But then he does look and its not a teacher at all. Virgil blinks, once, twice to make sure he’s seeing things correctly.

“Virgil?” Janus says, still several centimetres away from kissing him and obviously aware of how Virgil had tensed to high hell.

“I thought you said that Patton went home sick,” Virgil says absently.

Janus sits back, following his line of sight to the corner of the building where-- sure enough-- Patton Hart was walking without a care in the entire world. He was dressed differently today than Virgil remembered him ever dressing: the memories of his polo and his cardigan give way to the reality of sweatpants and a soft sweater that cannot be comfortable in the heat of the day. Virgil tries to remember if that’s what Patton had been wearing earlier and… yeah it was. From this distance Virgil can’t tell the look on his face, but he doesn’t look like he’s worried at all.

He’s walking with a purpose. And that purpose looks angry.

“Does Patton have a car?” Janus asks.

“I don’t...think so…” Virgil says tracking Patton’s progress across the lawn.

“Then who’s keys does he have in his hand?” Janus says not entirely rhetorical.

With barely a nod between the two of them, they scoop all the paper snakes into Virgil’s bag and take off after him.

Its extremely weird, Virgil thinks. Because its so quiet that their footsteps sound like slaps, and they have to duck around a red truck to avoid Patton’s glance back. Janus crouches delicately, slinking between the cars and Virgil wastes a moment watching how gracefully he moves.

He’s like water flowing, controlled and effortless and an undercurrent of power. Virgil doesn’t doubt his ability to fight right this moment, doesn’t doubt his killer left hook, or his dirty fighting tactics that Janus picked up in the name of self defense and preservation. Virgil’s body hums with adrenaline as he watches Janus follow after Patton.

He leans against a jeep that doesn’t actually have a parking pass but no one’s complained about it and Janus peeks around the bummer to see where Patton was heading.

For a second, Virgil thought he was going after Janus’s car-- the little gold mazada 3 thats a year and a half old and a gift from his parents. He’s just about to yell, to scream, to ward Patton off, because it was already shitty of him to not show up to the debate, but touching Janus’s car? That’s like super assholeish and Virgil has never once wanted to call Patton an asshole.

Janus, however, is quicker and covers his mouth with his hand. “Look, I think...he’s crying,”

“What?” Virgil whispers, squinting-- oh shit, he should probably get an appointment to update his contacts soon -- and Patton is crying. Its the silent type of crying that's born from using a smile to hide the hurt too much and Virgil immediately decides that Patton doesn’t deserve that ever. He feels each one of those tears like a punch to the gut, each soft barely audible gasp like a knee to his jaw, each sniffle like an elbow to the back of his head.

Patton storms past Janus’s car and goes straight to the fiery red Prius that Roman (and his twin Remus) share.

“Oh my god,” Virgil breathes at the same time as Patton takes the blade of a key to the side of the car.

The noise is awful. Janus flinches curling into Virgil as they watch with morbid fascination: Patton doesn’t waver, doesn’t hesitate as he carves deep into the paint and the metal, perfecting each and every letter.

By the time he’s finished, he’s bawling big fat crocodile tears that soak all turn all his cheeks puffy and soak the collar of his sweater and Virgil’s stomach is a twisted knot of emotions he doesn’t know what to do with.

“FUCK OFF” written on the side of Roman’s car explains things very well, anyway.

Patton drops the keys on the ground and then follows after in such a dead weight fall that Virgil feels the shockwaves from where he is. He curls in on himself, sobbing horrible, gut-wrenching howls of pain.

Janus leaps around Virgil to run after him, and Virgil only stumbles slightly trying to come with him.

“I didn’t…” Janus says, loudly--loud enough to make Patton jump and Virgil flinch and the empty parking lot feel crowded, “I didn’t know you were into Modern Art, Patton.”

Virgil thinks that if it were any other situation, he might have snorted. But when Patton turns to them with his blue eyes so full of tears that Virgil thinks he might drown in them, he forgets every other thought he has had.

Its just...rage.

“I’ll kill him.”

And Virgil means it, the same way he says that the sky is blue, or that he won't take off his sweatshirt, that he loves Janus with all his soul. He means that he will go right back into that building and search through every single fucking classroom until he finds wherever Roman spends his third class of the day and then he’ll drag him out to the parking lot by his stupid perfect hair and run him over a couple hundred times.

Virgil will go to jail for manslaughter and he wouldn’t even feel sorry.

Patton lets out a shuddering sob and frantically tries to wipe away his ugly tears, making noises that Virgil assumes are meant to be words but they come out scrambled and grated and wrong. And Patton who’s never done a single mean thing in all the time that Virgil has known of him, does not deserve to feel a hurt that bad. How dare Roman make him feel a pain that bad.

Virgil rolls up his sleeves and spins on his heel to go take care of the issue-- but Janus catches him by his hood and yanks him back.

“Patton,” Janus says softly (a tone that's normally reserved for two AM sleepovers and lazy saturday movie marathons and sad boi hours that come and go like the seasons), “What can we do?”

Patton lets out a shriek, and when he looks back up there’s no sadness. Its a fury, an anger, its frustration that boiled into a suffocating gas and Virgil guess that he’s not going to need to end Roman’s life because Patton is perfectly capable of doing himself.

“You can shut the hell up!” Patton screams, “And Leave me the fuck alone!”

Virgil and Janus share a look.

And well...Virgil has been breaking rules since he was a kid and Janus isn’t the type of follow orders simply because. Without discussing anything they both sit down next to Patton, and Virgil starts pulling out the origami paper again.

“What are you doing?” Patton hisses in a way that Virgil has never once seen him do. His fingers shake, but he keeps himself calm and cool and collected.

“Its called origami,” Janus says, although he knows very well that’s not what Patton was asking. Virgil watches his fingers flick in the air, a mesmerizing dance that once Patton looks at he couldn’t look away from.

Patton’s tears drop, his face is still puffy and dangerous, but Janus says nothing about it. Virgil holds his breath and watches as Janus folds, unfolds, pinches, twists the paper into a jumping frog. He sets it out on his palm and lets Patton stare at it like it holds the secrets of the universe.

“I like making things when I get upset,” Janus says. “Would you like me to teach you?”

“I…” Patton sniffles, rubbing away his tears again. He sounds so small and insignificant that Virgil wants to wrap his arms around him and protect him from everything. “Why…?”

“I know how to do many animals,” Janus continues on, “frogs, snakes, spiders, cranes… Or we can just fold paper in any way we want to, too.”

Patton is silent. Janus picks up another piece of paper and begins folding it in half. There’s a breeze through the parking lot, colder than before, bitter and smarting. Virgil tugs the sleeves of his jacket over his hands and tries not to wonder what happened to the sun.

“The motion is calming to me,” Janus explains, “I like the creation of something new and different, the repetition--”

There’s a huff.

A snort.

And then...well then Patton is laughing a terribly wet, mean laugh. Janus pauses halfway through folding the head of the frog to make sure Patton hasn't been replaced by a skinwalking alien wearing Patton’s face, and Virgil can’t really blame him at all. The small boy kneels over laughing so hard he ends up gasping for breath and Virgil shivers at how the noise steals all the warmth from the air.

“Fucking stupid,” Patton manages, through gasps that sound suspiciously like whimpers. “Everything is so fucking stupid.”

“I see someone taught the five-year-old a new swear word,” Janus says. “Who was it? Remus?”

“Just go away, Janus,” Patton says, laying his head on the asphalt.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Janus tuts finishing off his second frog, “You really don’t know where that piece of road has been.”

“Actually I do!” Patton bolts upright, “I do know! Its been right here! Its been here no matter what’s happened, never moving, never changing, and even if I marked it with chalk or paint or took a jackhammer to it or blew it the fuck up it will still be here when I wake up tomorrow! Now fuck off!”

Virgil blinks, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly.

“I am learning so many things about you today, Patton,” Janus says without missing a beat. He picks up another sheet of paper, “You’re into modern art, you’re passionate about parking lots...my, my, my. Perhaps we should have done our debate on road construction instead. Would you have bothered to show up then?”

“Like it matters.” Patton says, even more unlike himself. Virgil thinks he’s seen Patton overbook himself for commitments more times than he can count and apologies are nearly always coupled with food of some sort: cookies, fudge, pasta salad. Sometimes even to things he never even said he could be there for. Patton is more apologetic than Virgil ever has been, and Virgil likes to apologize for existing.

But here is a Patton, or a version of him, that seems so defeated, so angry, so sad and upset and miserable that he’s just...given up. Consequences be damned.

“We lose,” Patton says looking up at the sky, “We lose because Mrs. Hydrus hates you, Janus, and so she makes us do it without any notes, then every time you stumble, she interrupts and asks for clarification despite being the moderator, and she cuts down our time by a whole minute. And when you say anything back to her she sends you to the principal's office and gives us a zero for the assignment, anyway. We lose. But its fine because you never remember anyway and then you get to wake up and be humiliated all over again. And it doesn’t matter what I do! Okay? We lose!”

Janus stops folding his frog and turns to look directly at Patton. Virgil is too, and he can scarcely breathe.

“What did you just say?”

Patton turns to face him swiping away another round of tears. “Go ahead, Virgil! You’re just like everyone else. Go and call me c-crazy! Tell me I’m insane! T-take me to the doctors! Whatever! I’m so t-tired of this and I can’t even die.”

Virgil swallows hard. There’s a lump in the back of his throat, a lump that’s growing until he can barely breathe around it. Janus brings a hand up to his mouth like he might be sick right there on the concrete.

“Patton…” Virgil breathes. “Are you a paper frog?”

Patton stares at him like he’s stupid so Virgil reaches out with shaky hands and picks up one of the finished frogs from the ground. He carefully unfolds it, piece-by-piece, until its back to the original square. Then he holds it up for Patton to see, and begins to refold it the way that Janus had.

“Are you,” Virgil asks, “being refolded like a paper frog?”

Patton’s face says everything.

“H-how,” Janus asks, “how many times?”

The other boy blinks long and slow and sniffles. “I-I don’t know. Around three hundred twelve? Maybe? I lost count so long ago.”

“Three hundred twel--” Virgil repeats, “Holy shit, Pat! That’s almost a year.”

“Why didn’t you come to us?” Janus asks, although they all know why really. Despite them being debate partners, Patton and Janus don’t talk. Janus and Virgil admire him from afar, and only talk to him in passing. For the longest time Virgil didn’t even know if Patton knew his name, and now they’re sitting here wondering why strangers would ever interact with one another?

“What about…” Virgil motions to the car, the keys, the fun words written in the red paint.

Patton shakes his head so hard his body trembles. “He doesn’t...he never...I tried so so hard but its so much easier to leave him be. It takes so much to convince him and then… then its not a true love’s kiss solution.”

Virgil’s gut twists just thinking about that. About how many times that Roman made him prove that he had seen everything before, and then for a kiss not to work when they both were head over heels in love with each other and then waking up again, convincing Roman again, then telling him the kiss didn’t work? Virgil could guess it didn’t go over well at all.

Knowing Roman it had probably dissolved into a “we’re not meant for each other?”, followed by a “i will always love you no matter what.” , and finished with a “If it will save you from this loop then we’ll have to break up”.

From the sight of the keys on the ground, Virgil can guess how far it went this time.

“I do love him,” Patton says almost desperately. “I do, I do, I do! I swear I love him so much--”

Janus puts a hand on Patton’s shoulder and he falls silent immediately. “I believe you,” Janus says, “I’ve seen the way you look at him, Patton. No one here thinks that the two of you aren’t perfect for each other.”

Its a pain to admit because its friendzoning both of them right now, but Virgil would weather that if it meant Patton wouldn’t sound so heartbroken. Janus meets his eyes over Patton’s shoulder and gives him a nod. At least they’re on the same page for this.

“Three hundred twelve time loops,” Virgil says, “does not sound like it was fun at all.”

“Are any loops fun?” Janus asks.

“Fruit loops are fun,” Patton sniffles again. He rubs his eyes and hunches over in his sweatshirt. “Do you guys...do you guys really believe me?”

Janus’s lips curve into a wry smile, “Patton in all the time that I can remember, I’ve never seen you have the guts to key someone’s car. And now you’re saying fuck? And telling me off? That's a whole lot of character development to happen without me noticing, unless it was a time loop.”

Patton giggles, just a bit. It's still weepy but it makes Virgil feel like he can breathe for the first time.

“Don’t worry, Pat,” Virgil says, “We’ll figure this thing out.”

“H-how?”

Janus sighed leaning back a little, “Well we could ask Logan.”

“Logan?” Virgil echoes, “you mean Remus’s boyfriend? You think he’s got something?”

Janus shrugs, “He is a witch.”

“A what now?” Virgil says. “Since when was he a witch! You never told me that!”

Janus grins sheepishly, and rubs the back of his neck, “I forgot? I love you?”

Virgil blows a raspberry at him. “Just like how I’m gonna forget to mention you when I find Mothman. But I love you, too.”

“Its a cruel love, this thing we have.” Janus says rather poetically and Virgil reaches over to shove his shoulder. Janus laughs sways so he falls onto Patton’s shoulder. Patton for his part smiles, bright and blinding and it takes both their breaths away when he laughs again.

Virgil can’t imagine having to redo the same day twice, much less three hundred times. He wonders vaguely if Patton has any idea how strong he is, how amazing, how inspiring he is to keep that glow inside himself despite everything.

He’s smile fades for a moment and he perks up all of a sudden. “Oh My Gosh! Logan’s a witch!” He makes a flurry of arm movements that forces Virgil to duck, “Oh my gosh that means--!!”

“Deep breaths, dear,” Janus suggests, although it goes ignored.

“Yesterday--like actually yesterday, your yesterday, not the last loop, Logan and Remus got into an argument over a bottle and I thought it was gatorade! Remus was trying to drink it but Logan wouldn’t let him and they ended up spilling it on the floor! I helped them keep it up but I got a little bit on my hand! I didn’t think too much of it but what if it was like some sort of potion?”

Janus considers it, “Hmmm, its a good starting place. Let’s go ask him what it was.” He stands up and offers a hand down to Patton and Virgil each. Virgil takes it and turns back to also offer his own hand to the smaller boy.

“Come on, Hart, this is going to be your last loop.” Janus says.

Patton stares at their hands almost as if he was afraid to take them. He glances down at the origami frogs, at the keys, and their bags, then back up at them with an fearful expression. “You...you promise?”

Virgil laughs, “Yeah, we got you, Pat. Promise.”

Patton shakes from head to toe, but he grabs both their hands and smiles like he has hope for the first time in three hundred twelve days.

#sanders sides #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #Janus Sanders #sympathetic deceit #anxceit #roman sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #royality #moxceit #highschool au #time loop #Patton says fuck #but he's earned that right #Janus and Virgil are bffs #you can tear that from my cold dead hands

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noladyme · 4 years ago

Text

Chess. Chapter 8.

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

TW: Language, sexual themes, harassment, injuries. Rated M.

(Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.)

“Oh yes… Oh God, yes!”.

Ricks nails bore into my skin, scratching: and leaving red and white traces in their wake.

“Please don’t stop”, I gasped.

Looking up at me, he rearranged his body, giving him better access to his target,

I kicked my leg, moaning.

“Lie still”, he mumbled, and used his free hand to hold the leg down.

“Mhmm”, I responded, and sighed.

“You’re enjoying this too much”, Rick said, and pulled his fingers out from under the bandage on my foot.

I whimpered.

“No… please”, I said, grabbing his hand, and pushing it back towards my ankle. “You have no idea how itchy that thing is!”. He chuckled at me.

“Maybe next time, don’t let Harley cover your foot in glitter body lotion, before she wraps it up”.

“She said it was antibacterial. And I thought she was supposed to be a doctor”.

“Of psychiatry”, he smiled.

“Right”, I remembered. “Ironic”.

He laid back, putting his head on the pillow. I rolled over, a piece of paper sticking to my sweaty thigh.

Putting his arm behind my head, I snuggled up to him; our fingers entangled on his chest.

“Flag…”, I began.

“Rick”, he interrupted.

“Rick”, I smirked. “Rick with the amazing dick”.

“That’s… terrible”, he laughed, pulled me in and kissed my forehead. Our legs entwined. “What were you gonna say?”.

“What happens now?”, I asked.

“I don’t know. You don’t belong out there with them… us”, he finished.

“I think I do”, I said, turning my face to look at him. His eyes darkened. “Look; I’m a criminal. I’ve done things, I wish I hadn’t”.

“We all have”, he said quietly. I continued.

“But here, I can do something with this thing that was put on me. I can use it to help people like the ones we saved today”.

Rick sighed.

“That’s great, in theory”, he said.

“What do you mean?”, I wondered.

He looked uncomfortable for a second, pulled his arm out from behind my head, and sat up. I stroked my fingers up and down his back as he spoke.

“Can I say something, without you smacking me across the face again?”, he asked. I rolled my eyes in response. “You’re rash, you take unnecessary risks…”. I interrupted.

“Just like every other person in the squad!”.

“…and you’re not as strong as you think”, he finished.

I sat up. “I was strong enough to give you a run for your money, back when we were wrestling in that alley”, I said, and kissed his shoulder.

He turned to face me, and with a hand on my waist, he pushed me back down on the bed, and got on top of me.

“Maybe I was just enjoying rubbing up against you”, he breathed; and began to place small kisses down my neck.

“Are you trying to distract me?”, I laughed, and struggled against his grip. He chuckled against my neck, and started trailing his hand down my side, placing it on my buttcheek.

“What are you doing?”, I giggled.

“Checking out the asset”, he whispered into my ear, and squeezed my cheek. I squealed and laughed.

His phone buzzed in his pants pocket on the floor. He reached to pull it out; and the display read A. Waller.

“Flag”, he answered, and put a finger to his lips, hushing me.

“You heard. Yes… I know…”. He put his feet on the floor, and looked over his shoulder at me for a second.

“No, that’s not… No. Waller… Wall… Amanda! It’s too soon!”, he said in to the phone. He sighed.

“Yes, I know. I understand. Yeah… see you then”. He hung up. “Bitch!”. He threw the phone across the bed.

“Back to work?”, I asked, sitting up.

He ran his hand down his face, and turned halfway towards me.

“Waller… is coming here, to brief you all personally”.

“What does that mean?”, I asked, worried.

“I don’t know all the details, but it’s probably not good”. He turned all the way towards me, and took my hand, placing it on his cheek.

“There are things I can’t tell you. Not because I don’t want to, but because I wouldn’t even know where to start. The next couple of days you might hear some things…”, he said, and put his hands on either side of my face. “I need you to know, that this is real”.

“I know it is”, I said, and ran my thumb over his bottom lip. “I know”.

We got out of the bed, and started to dress. While Rick tied his boots, I picked up the harness, and looked at it.

Rick turned to face me, as I started putting it on.

“I’m sorry”, he said, and looked at the ground in front of him.

I limped over to him, stroke his cheek, and kissed his lips softly. Slipping my hand into his pocket, I pulled out the key he had placed there; and put it in his hand.

“Let’s just get this over with”, I said, and connected the straps to the disc on my chest; so he could lock it.

He did, and then pressed the button on his wrist. A short beep, and the light turned from green to red.

“This thing coming up… it doesn’t sound good. But I’m going to do whatever I have to, to make sure you’re safe”. He put his forehead to mine.

“I’m a big girl, Rick”, I smiled.

“You’re hotheaded and stubborn. And that’s not a compliment”, he said. “To top that of, you’re still injured”.

“Keep going like this, and I will smack you”, I smirked. He put his lips to mine, savoring the feeling.

“Just please… follow my orders, and we’ll get through this”.

I smiled at him.

“Yes, colonel Flag, sir!”.

He smirked, and we went out the door.

---

I’d had to go back to my cell; but I’d fallen asleep quickly, once Rick had led me there, removed my harness, and left me – after a quick kiss, while no one was watching.

The next morning, we were gathered in the gym.

Digger, as always, looked chronically hung over, but the only other member of the team seeming affected by the “party” the night before, was Harley; who was wearing a pair of oversized sunglasses, and clutching a tiny cup of espresso.

I was sitting in my wheelchair, though I did not need it; it just so happened to be the most comfortable chair in the room. Foot raised on the empty beer crate, I was pretending to read my copy of Alice.

“Mhm”, said a voice from behind me. “Must have been a good one”.

Floyd sat down next to me.

“I’m not sure what you mean”, I said unconvincingly.

“You’ve been reading that same page for the last 20 minutes”, he said.

“It’s my favorite part”, I retorted.

“And,” he continued “you’re holding it upside down”.

My face reddened, and I put down the book.

“Anyone else notice?”, I asked.

“Oh, we all know. You have a hickey the size of Florida on your neck”, he chuckled.

“Fuck”, I gasped, and tried to cover my neck with my hand.

“Too late, girl”, Floyd smiled widely. “Only thing, I can’t figure out which one of these nasty ass guards you’d be willing to knock it with”.

So he didn’t know about Flag. Rick.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen”, I groaned. He laughed and patted my shoulder.

“Hey, you’ll get no shit from me. We all need a little tlc sometimes”, he smiled, and got up to walk away. Turning around, he stopped for a second.

“Did you find your something to live for?”.

“Maybe”, I said honestly. He nodded, and went to join Diablo at the dumbbells.

The metal doors opened, and Griggs came in, followed closely by a dozen of his men. No matter how badass he tried to look, it was clear he was terrified of us; especially when we were grouped together.

“Hey shitheads. Line up!”, he barked. “You had a nice party last night it seems”.

We all got in line, about six feet between us, as we stood next to each other; hands on our heads, and legs spread. Griggs walked up to a grey-faced Digger.

“Crocodile Dundee; stand up straight when I’m talking to you”, he roared in to the poor mans face; as he was doing his best to block out the sound with his hands.

He walked back and forth in front of us, avoiding getting too close to Croc, who was standing at the end of the line.

“You need to clean this shit up!”, he yelled, and kicked at the beer case I’d been resting my foot on earlier.

“I’ve been told you have guests coming in. That woman, Waller, and the colonels samurai”.

I started swaying; my ankle giving in to pain. It was difficult to stand up straight. Griggs sauntered over to me, and put his hands on my waist. I heard mumbling and a growl coming from my friends; but the guards all cocked their guns, and aimed them at our group.

“How’s the foot?”, he said quietly, looking into my eyes, swaying back and forth with me; in a weird slow dance.

“I heard you went to visit colonel Douche last night. You were in there a long time, Puss”, he jeered. “Did ya’ give the soldier boy a little lapdance? You’re good at that, ain’t you? What was that place called you worked at? Scottys’?”.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Floyd sending me a look of confusion.

“Get off me”, I hissed; trying to create distance between us, still keeping my hands on my head.

“Oh, come on”, Griggs smirked, leaning in to me. “You like a man in uniform, don’t you? All someone has to do is flash a bit of rank, and you’ll spread ‘em. Screwing your way out of here…”.

A bright voice interrupted him.

“In my professional experience, slut shaming is usually a sign of extreme insecurity, and pent up sexual frustration, stemming from the aggressing party not interacting in any kind of physical intercourse themselves”, Harley said pointedly. “Blue balls much?”, she finished, smiling brightly.

Griggs stepped away from me, and stormed towards her. He was stopped dead in his tracks, as Digger bent forward in front of him, heaving; and letting out a steady stream of his stomach content; making it land on Griggs’ uniform.

“Shit. You disgusting… Shit!”, Griggs yelped, and stormed towards the door, followed by his guards, who kept aiming their guns at us until the door closed behind them.

“Oops, sorry mate”, Digger burped. We all laughed.

“Come on man, let’s get you cleaned up”, Diablo said, and supported Diggers weight on their way to the bathroom. “Good job”, I heard him laugh, as they walked away.

I went to sit down; my hands shaking, as I arranged myself in the wheelchair.

“You and Flag, huh?”. Floyd was looking down at me. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been with some nasty ass skanks in my day. But… really?”, he looked at me, disbelieving.

I sighed.

“It’s like I said. It wasn’t supposed to happen”. I looked up at him. “But it did”.

Floyd tilted his head.

“I guess he’s got that Ken doll thing going for him. And he’s not a total asshole. Just be careful this doesn’t fuck up your situation in this place. We got it better here than we could have wished for, being who we are”, he said, and crouched in front of me.

“Live, Y/N”, he said quietly, squeezed my knee gently; and left me alone to my thoughts.

---

“You’re going to Gotham”.

Waller was briefing us in a conference room, connected to hallway outside the gym. We were all sitting around a table that gave off an aroma of stale coffee and cigarette smoke, looking at a slideshow, that would probably be destroyed once this meeting was over.

In a corner of the room stood a masked Asian woman, carrying a sword. Rick had introduced her to me as Katana.

“She’s got his back”, Harley had beemed at me, grabbing Katana in her arms, and giving her a tight squeeze. “I’ve missed you so much!”. Katana had retreated as quickly as she could; and was now scowling at us from her corner.

“A terrorist group has threatened an attack on Midtown, three days from now”, Waller said. “Exactly where has yet to be confirmed; but we suspect it will be going down in the area of Gotham Proper. This makes either Gotham U., Central High School, or Gotham Hospital likely targets. Either way, casualties will be in the thousands”.

She switched the slide, showing us a map of what seemed to be the western part of Gotham.

“It seems the group has gained access to all surveillance footage in the area, meaning they will notice us coming at them, regardless of which direction we decide to take”.

“We?”, Diablo asked.

“Well, you. Obviously”, Waller retorted. “Police and military have been ordered to act as normal; not evacuate or show any sign that we are taking this threat seriously”.

“So basically, you’re letting people die”, Floyd said, trying to control his temper. “Why?”.

“Don’t worry, Deadshot. Your daughter and her mother have been sent on vacation to the west coast, visiting family.

“They ain’t got no family on the west coast”, Floyd growled.

“They do now”, Waller said.

“Get to the point, Waller. What do we need to do?”, Rick asked.

“You need to go in quietly, but well-armed”. She looked at me. “This is where you come in, Chess”.

Ricks eyes were instantly on me; worried and enraged.

“No, she’s not ready.”, he said as calmly as he could. Across the table, Harley was making a heart shape with her hands, winking at me.

“Colonel, you need to go in invisibly. Literally”, Waller said to him.

Rick walked up to her, and lowered his voice.

“She almost died yesterday. Her ankle is messed up; and she might have a couple of fractured ribs; due to the beating you let the guards here give her”. That last part was only half true, as I’d had no trouble with my ribs, when he was holding on to me for dear life, as I rode him the night before.

“I didn’t let the guards do anything. Y/N is a prisoner here at Belle Reve, and whatever treatment she receives from the staff here, is between her and them”. I really don’t like you, I thought.

“Amanda…”, Rick said, but was interrupted.

“Let’s speak in private”, Waller said coldly.

---

Rick and Katana walked us back to the gym, leaving Waller waiting for them in the conference room.

Once back, and out of sight of the guards, Rick looked at us all, his eyes ending up meeting mine. He lifted his hand, and pressed the button on his wrist. My disc shone green.

Katana grabbed his arm, and angrily said something I couldn’t understand.

“She deserves to know”, Rick said quietly, and walked up to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Remember what I said last night”, he said in a hushed tone. “And be quiet”.

I nodded, and disappeared from view.

Leaving the rest of the group behind, waiting for more instruction; we walked back to the conference room. Katana was grumbling something all the way; the only word I could understand being “stupid”.

Waller was sitting at the end of the table when we came in. I lightly touched Ricks arm, letting him know I was there. He sighed.

“Amanda, this is dangerous”, he said.

“I know”, she answered. “That’s why it’s these people doing it”.

“But her?”, he asked, sitting down in one of the chairs. It seemed he couldn’t sit far enough away from her; such was his aggravation.

“She’s getting to you”, Waller said matter-of-factly. “We’ve been here before, haven’t we?”.

“No. This is not that. She is a member of my team, who just so happens to be completely unprepared for this situation”. I stood against the wall behind him, watching his shoulders move as he spoke.

“This is not your team, Flag”, she said harshly. “These are assets; they’re disposable. You’re not supposed to make friends with them”.

“I am the leader of that squad”, Rick tried, with an authoritative voice.

“You are the babysitter of a bunch of gangbangers and psychopaths; put in this jail to be punished for their deeds. That gym out there was supposed to be a training facility. In stead you’ve let them turn it in to a frat house”.

Rick slammed his fist into the table, making me jump. Katana looked in my direction, letting me know she’d heard me. I needed to be quieter.

“You can’t ask this of them!”, he yelled. “She could die. They could all die!”.

“So?”, Waller said, voice leveled; eyes cold.

“How long have you known about her?”, he asked.

“She’s been on the board for a while; a file I kept in my drawer for when I needed her. When this threat came in, I knew it was time to extract her”.

“This is the one, isn’t it?”, Rick said. “The one you’ve been preparing for months. The one you didn’t want to tell me about. Why?”.

“Because I knew what your reaction would be, and I didn’t have time to deal with your sensitive emotions”, she answered.

Rick sighed. “There is no threat, is there?”.

“There is a threat, but it’s not new. We’ve known about this group for a little over a year”.

“Then why now?”, he wondered.

“Because we caught her”, she answered. “Now we finally have a chance of taking them down; because they won’t be able to see you coming”.

“And the attack? That’s bullshit?”. He was tensing up.

“Not exactly”, Waller said, gathering her papers. “We know they have access to explosives, and that they are able to set them up quickly; causing great damage to a large area. The three targets I mentioned before, are still the most likely to be hit”.

Rick stood up and walked over to her, staring her down menacingly.

“When we finish this one; you and me – we’re done”.

She took her papers and walked towards the door.

“If you say so”, she said, and closed the door behind her.

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r

@hyp-oh-critical

#rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag fic #rick flag imagine #suicide squad fic #suicide squad imagine #deadshot #harley quinn #amanda waller

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intubatedangel · 4 years ago

Text

Cold Snap: Chapter 4

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Anna walked through into the large living room, turning to the TV. Carl was stood beside the counter, phone to his ear, gaze locked on the screen. A newscast was showing aerial footage from a helicopter. A banner along the bottom was headlined with MOMENTS AGO, and scrolling text described the scene. Not that it needed much describing. The boat was pouring with smoke, people crowded on the fore deck. Anna watched, gasping as the fuel tank explosion sent a gout of flame into the air and shook everyone on board.

"Anna?" Sara asked on the phone.

"I saw." She gulped, exchanging a glance with Carl. They both nodded. Their plans for the day would have to wait. "We'll be right there." Anna told Sara, before hanging up, she headed into the bathroom, grabbing two towels. She tossed one into the sink, soaking it in warm water. She gave her chest a quick scrub to remove the lingering gel, then wiped away as much sweat as she reasonably could. It was an old trick nursing school trick, when you had a short break and needed to freshen up. It would have do. Carl entered the bathroom behind her, and she handed him the wet towel, using the other to dry herself.

They didn't say anything, both processing what they had seen. Not in the way that someone in shock might have to process an event. They were going over the details they had seen. The footage wasn't great, but the signs of blood and bandages were pretty clear. There was the fire factor too, and given how cold the river was, hypothermia could be a big complication. Carl's mind was focused on treatments for the worst case scenarios. Anna thought more about the bigger picture. Triage and dividing her nurses to cover as many bases as possible safely and quickly.

Once dry she slipped around Carl and went to the wardrobe. Grabbing her last set of spare underwear and scrubs. She changed with a sense of urgency, Carl joining her soon after. Anna didn't waste any time sorting her hair. She ran a brush through it a couple of times, then fixed it in a basic ponytail. She went to the living room and looked through the window, down to the road. Traffic was already slowing down, with the river road likely blocked and emergency vehicles overriding lights in multiple directions. The police department would be clearing routes to the hospital, but none would pass this way.

She heard Carl coming though, dressed and ready. She looked at him and shook her head as she went to the front door. "Walking will be quicker." He nodded and they both left the apartment.

The kettle finished it's 5-minute boiling cycle.

* * *

Jones ran towards the back of the boat, waving his arms at one point as the boat rocked, presumably a patrol boat pushing off. It wasn't big enough to be another explosion. He hadn't considered the prospect but thought it unlikely. What was left to explode? As he neared the back of the boat, he could feel the tilt getting more substantial as the rear compartments flooded first. A part of him hoped that the luggage area wasn't one of them. A hope that was dashed when he reached the top of the rear stairs.

The waterline was already halfway up the stairs, which with the tilt of the boat were now almost vertical. It was murky too, not the horribly polluted mess it had been in years gone by. For a city river it was remarkably clean. This was just the standard murk of a natural river, suspended silt and foam, plus whatever dirt was being pulled from the inside of the boat. He couldn't see any sign of the girl. He would have to go in. He pulled off the life jacket, which would only hinder him here, but grabbed the small waterproof flashlight.

Just looking at the water made him feel cold. He took a couple of deep breaths, gritted his teeth, and jumped in. He did his best to contain a half-scream-half-growl, as the cold water shocked his system. The initial shock over, he swore. Loudly. Then turned to the task at hand. Placing the flashlight between his teeth, hooked a foot under the steps, rotated to face down wards, then pushed off, cutting through the water.

It stung his eyes as he kept them open, looking for any sign. It didn't take him long. The girl, Shona the kid had said, had long blond hair that was spread out in the water, acting almost like a flag, guiding him to her. She was dead. Clinically at least. That much was obvious. Motionless, blue lips. He didn't bother checking for a pulse or trying to give her some air. It would be pointless with her lungs full of water. Her only hope was that the cold would prevent any major damage. Jones knew that cold water drowning was one of the best-case scenarios for a full recovery. He just had to get her out and get her to help as soon as possible.

He grabbed one of her arms, pulling on it, hoping it would be simple. But she was trapped. He pushed himself closer, down her body length, to get a good view of the cases covering her legs and waist. He could feel his own air starting to run low, but realigned himself, planting his feet against the floor, grabbing the heaviest case in both hands. He pushed off, taking the case with him, moving it just far enough to roll it away from the girl. He did the same for another case, then, lungs starting to burn, he took a chance. He got one arm around her waist, pulled her upper body closer to his shoulder with the other. Then, cradling her tightly, he pushed off in a smooth firm motion. The was a moment of resistance, as the bags and cases tried to keep hold of their prize, then they relented. Shona was free.

As soon as he felt it Jones kicked off the bottom, but his legs were almost fully extended already and there was no dramatic rush to the surface. He had to swim with his legs, each motion needing more oxygen. He could see the light from the stairs, and swam towards it, spitting out the flashlight, letting it sink away. He felt desperate as he crossed the final few yards.

With a great gasping breath he broke the surface, dragging in few deep lungful’s of air, remembering to breath out steadily and expel the co2 that must have been building. He rearranged the body in his arms, getting a better look at her. In the open air her hair had fallen and clung to her face. He brushed it away, without any tenderness, feeling how cold her skin was. He knew there was absolutely nothing he could do but get her out. And there was the problem. Submerged in the water he had been unable to really sense direction. During the short time he had been under, the boat had tilted further, enough that there was no chance of climbing the steps, not with a pulseless young woman in one arm.

* * *

Lucy watched the cop go rushing off, shaking her head. She wanted to go with him. Help him. But she was the only proper medic on board. And as she had told Jones, Patients come first. She got the splint wrapped around the young man’s arm. She didn't dare try to reduce the fracture herself. She had no idea how many knocks it taken. Instead, she used the splint to stabilise the bones as they were, loosely wrapping anti-septic coated bandages over the wound. It would do.

She followed it up with a neck brace, then waved over a cop. "I need a spinal board from a patrol boat, and some spare hands." She requested. The cop nodded, immediately going to do as she asked. She checked the young man’s pulse while she waited. It was rapid, a little thready, but not excessively concerning. The head injury could become a problem, but there wouldn't be anything she could do if he did have a brain bleed. The best thing would be to get him to a neuro unit as soon as possible, and in the meantime try to reduce his pain and stress levels. To that end she shot him up with a moderate dose of morphine, which seemed to calm him.

The cop returned with the orange board and two others. They should have all had training in spinal boards, it was part of the required first aid course for river patrol, but Lucy coached them through it just in case. They log rolled the young man, placing the board before rolling him back, then they tied down the straps, crossing his body and making everything secure. By the time they were done and Lucy could look around, she could see that they were the only ones left on board.

"Ok, nice and easy." She said, standing up slowly and in concert with the other three. It was only when she was standing that she realised how badly the boat was faring. Luckily the patrol boat was level with them, so they could shuffle sideways along the tilted deck, instead of having to walk up a 30-degree slope. They reached the edge of the boat and she directed two of them down into it, while she and the other balanced the spinal board on the rail.

Carefully they eased the board down into the patrol boat. Lucy looked out at the river. All the other boats were on their way to shore. She looked at the sinking rear of The Beetle. There was still no sign of Jones. "Do we wait?" A cop asked, clearly tracking her thinking. They were the last boat. The last chance for Jones and the possible casualty. She cursed, looking out over the river avoiding the eyes of the cops. They were putting the decision in her hands. Patients Come First.

She opened her mouth to speak, when she noticed something odd. One boat wasn't heading for shore. It was making a mad dash in their direction, skipping and bouncing on the waves of the river. "No." She ordered. "Get this one to shore. Go as fast as you smoothly can." She said starting to turn away.

"Wait, what about you?" The officer asked,

"Patients come first." Lucy told him. She rushed towards the cabin without looking back.

#Medical Drama #Cold Snap #Cpr #Defib #Resus writing #Anna Swift

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bluehairedboyhcs · 4 years ago

Text

It’s you.

SallyxReader

Pt 1/2

Smut (in next chapter 👀)

Slight angst

AFAB/cis girl reader. I’m sorry I shamelessly wrote this as a self insert at 5 am half asleep because of a dream I had so... yeah. Don’t worry I got you guys and non-binary friends covered in the future I promise 💙

Sally gets a little angsty but it comes back around I promise.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You, Sally, and Larry were chilling in the basement playing video games and smoking a bowl. Your night had gone as usual. Friendly teasing and poking fun at eachother. However things quickly escalate when Larry decides to poke Sals buttons in the way he knows will get him REALLY pissed

— — —

“Laaaarrryyyy!”

You let out a whine of protest. Larry just killed you for the third time in a row after countless efforts to steal his flag. He was camping, and it was pissing you off.

He leaned back in his beanbag and set his controller down with a sigh.

“That’s just the way of the game babygirl”

You rolled your eyes and followed suit. Leaning back, you crossed your arms and let out a defeated huff.

“You know I don’t like it when you call me that...”

Larry chuckled.

“That’s why I do it. To get on your nerves!”

Before he could finish his statement he had already lunged at you to give you a Noogie.

“Pfft.”

The both of you look towards an aggravated Sally. He was sitting on Larry’s bed flipping through a guitar catalog. Even though you couldn’t see his facial expression, you could always tell when he was feeling a certain way.

“So are you guys gonna kiss or something or can we wrap this up”

“SALLY!”

“What? You act like there isn’t a thick, suffocating smog of sexual tension in this room right n- HEY! What the fuck!?”

You threw your shoe at him.

Larry grabbed the bowl from his pocket and began to pack it.

“Is it that time of month again Mrs. Fisher?”

Sally grumbled under his breath and slammed the catalog shut

“Fuck you guys.”

He stomped over to where you and Larry were sitting. Larry lit the bowl and took a few tokes as Sally plopped on the ground and sat criss cross.

Larry laughed and coughed at the same time.

“Oh so your just gonna swear me out then smoke up all my pot?!”

Sal rolled his eyes.

“You owe me for last week anyway.”

Laughing one more time, Larry nodded and passed the pipe to you.

“You know I’m just messing with you right? I’m not actually into Y/N.”

“As if I’d give a shit.”

That one stung a little bit. You and Sally had known eachother for about four years now. At the beginning of Sophomore year you were the new kid at nockfell and Sally immediately was looking out for you. He was so kind to you all the time and he made sure you were always comfortable and safe. Of course you had formed a crush on him. How could you not? He was perfect, from his cute mannerisms, to his kind soul, and let’s not forget that adorable hair style. Nowadays things were different though. Anytime you wanted to get close to him he’d end up getting annoyed and push away. You had suspicions that Sally could have a crush on you since he got EXTRA annoyed when Larry flirted with you, but just incase that wasn’t true, you decidied you would never bring it up. You still valued Sally’s friendship and you weren’t willing to mess that up just because of some mixed signals.

“Ouch.”

You passed the pipe to Sally.

Things got awkwardly quiet for a while as the pipe mad a few rotations.

“Well... I’ve the munchies and I could go for a 7/11 slurpee right about now. Want anything while I’m out?”

Larry stood up and grabbed his keys.

“Cherry.”

“I’m good, but thank you”

Larry sighed and eyed the both of you before opening the door.

“Hahhhh... suit yourselves.”

The door closed with a click and suddenly you and Sally were left alone in silence.

The two of you sat quietly passing the pipe to eachother until Sal broke the silence.

“Damn, the bowls done. Larry has the pot on him so we’re out of luck.”

He got up and walked to the bed, throwing his body on it upon arrival causing the bed to bounce a few times.

The awkward silence continued for a while longer. You looked at Sal. He was staring up at the ceiling with his arm tucked behind his head. You thought to yourself “Wow he looks comfy.” Looking back on your highschool days, you and Sal used to be very close. Both of you were so touched starved that whenever either of you were sad about something, you would cuddle and talk it out. All of it was strictly plutonic, but nevertheless, you missed those days dearly.

This time it was your turn to break the silence.

“Hey Sal.”

“Yeah?”

His voice was so low and raspy. It was one of your favorite parts about him. It always sounded like he was sleep deprived and groggy, which he was.

“I’m a little sad. Can we talk?”

“... Sure”

You walk over to the bed and sit on the edge. Extending your arms bashfully. You hadn’t asked him to cuddle in a long time. Waaaay before he started acting all angsty so you weren’t sure how this was going to end. Hopefully with your head on his chest.”

Sally looked confused for a second. He huffed, contemplating whether he should accept or decline. Thankfully he opened his arms back to you. You smiles and cuddled up to him. You laid your head on his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist. You listened to his breathing. How you missed listening to the slow in and out of his breath and his thumping heart beat in the background. He placed his hand on your head and raked his fingers through your hair.

“So, what’s up.”

“Well I was going to ask you if you didn’t like me anymore but I think it’s safe to say you don’t hate me since we’re cuddling again.”

Sal let out a soft chuckle.

“No this is a pity cuddle... What did you think this is was?”

You both laughed. Burying your head into his neck you rephrased your question.

“No, but really. Why are you being so mean nowadays? Did I do something wrong?”

Sally sighed and took of his prosthetic. You had already seen his face plenty of times. Sadly it was another thing that had become a rarity nowadays. You could now comfortably bury your face in his neck without a big hunk of plastic in your way.

“I don’t know if I’m being honest... Well I can guess... I’ve been on new meds, nightmares have gotten worse recently. I don’t know, Larry has been pissing me off too lately.”

“Oh.”

Sal took a deep breath and let it back out.

“And... there’s this girl.”

“G-girl?”

“Yeah...”

“Oh...”

“She’s really funny and cute and I like her a lot and she makes my heart melt and my heart beat gets faster when i’m around her and I just don’t know what to do because I’m no where near ready for a relationship right now.”

“Wow... that’s a lot to take in.”

“Sorry...”

“It’s okay.”

Sally rolled onto his side and pulled you closer to him, cradling your head close to his chest.

“What do I do?”

You stayed silent, processing all of the information the he just spewed at you. After thinking about it for a while you knew what you had to tell him. You wanted him to be happy, and if his happiness was with some other girl, you were okay with that.

“Do you think she’s willing to wait?”

“Mayb-”

“Tell her. Tell her to wait for you. If she really cares enough she’ll wait till your ready.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Alright...”

At some point during that exchange a tear had fallen down your cheek. It really hurt to let go of him. The boy you’ve been crushing on since Sophomore year, but you needed to let him go.

You sat up.

“Well if that’s the case we should probably get farther away from eachother, huh?”

You force a laugh and begin to scoot away but Sal grabs your arm.

“Yes, Sally?”

Sally’s face was red and his palm that was placed on your arm was sweaty.

“Well... why would I need to do that when she’s... sitting right here?”

“Wha-”

“It’s you, Y/N. Your the girl...”

Your mind went blank. Malfunction. Now way he just said that.

“Well, I already told you that I’m not ready for a relationship but if your willing to wait...”

“Can I kiss you.”

Sal sat there quietly, surprised that you had the balls to just say that. He made a noise in the back of his throat before laughing.

“Yes, please do.”

He cups your cheeks, pulled you close and gently kissed you. You hadn’t ever kissed anyone so gentle before. It was nice. Gentle, like him, the old Sally.

He pulled away and looked at you with a wide grin.

“How was that?”

“Better then I ever imagined”

“Uuuuuhhhh...”

Larry stood at the doorway holding two slurpees, his mouth hanging wide open.

“Larry!!”

“What the FUCK did I miss?”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

End: pt 1/2

Hope you enjoyed it! Things get steamy in the next chapter so STRAP IN BITCHES!

#ash campbell #ashley campbell #ashley campbell x reader #larry johnson #larry johnson x reader #sal fisher #sallyface #sal fisher x reader #sally x reader #todd morrison

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 4 years ago

Text

I Like Boys

A Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Story

Master List

Pairing: Stucky | Word Count: 2256 | Warnings: Language

Based on the Todrick Hall song I Like Boys

A/N: With all the crazy in the world right now, I thought we could all use a little something fun and fluffy. This is my first Pride fic, please be kind as I did my absolute best. Love who you love, people. There’s nothing greater in life.

This fic is for @magellan-88 who inspires me even when she doesn’t intend to.

***

James Buchanan Barnes was ninety-seven years old when his Hydra programming finally broke. He spent two years running from his best friend, another two in cryo, and five after that apparently blipped into nothing. After the fight - were, somehow, they all came out alive - Bucky decided, fuck it!

How many times had he almost died? How many chances had he had? How many more would he waste before finally living his best life?

So he retired—sort of.

There was no such thing as "retiring" when your idiot best friend continued to throw himself out of planes and into the line of fire on a regular basis, but Steve did slow down. He took on a more managerial role, was promoted to "General" for his service, and spent his days sitting on his ass behind a desk.

Bucky liked him there. He liked having Steve unbruised and unbusted at the end of the day, saunter through the door to their joint living space and holler, "Honey, I'm home!"

It was a joke on the blond's part that was wearing thin, for when Bucky decided to live his best life, he'd begun to do some research about what that meant. Be true to you was a big part of it. But to be true to himself, he had to be honest with himself, and honesty meant admitting he'd been in love with Steven "is this a test" Rogers for most of his natural life.

Sadly, Steve liked girls. Case in point, one Peggy "gonna bust some balls" Carter.

Bucky couldn't exactly compete with that. She was one classy dame, and it hurt him to know that Steve would likely never move on. This era and it's dating rituals had thrown Cap for a loop. Women were too forward, and Steve - surprisingly - too shy to dive into the world of casual dates and sex.

For Bucky, it was different. He liked boys. There, he'd said it, but he still hadn't said it to Steve. Natasha, however, was a different story. She'd grown used to him sighing and pining on her shoulder. She said she hated it - she didn't - but she bitched enough for both of them.

Then she took him shopping.

While he was standing in some place called Sephora with miles of makeup and aisle of perfume that kind of made him want to sneeze, he had the shock of his life. All this "girly" crap everywhere, but in the middle of it was a guy? A cute guy. With well-groomed hair and this fabulous winged eyeliner - nothing like his Hydra days - wearing really cute skinny jeans and glitter on his cheeks.

Enchanted, Bucky left Natasha's side and slowly made his way over. The guy, man, guy he wasn't sure, looked up and flashed him a smile.

"Help you, honey?"

Bucky blinked. He had fantastic skin. "You're so shiny." A flush immediately reddened his face.

But Sephora Guy, whose name ended up being Ben, laughed and lightly patted his arm. "Aw, thanks, sweets. You looking for some skin care tips?"

Bucky nodded, unsure what else to do.

"Honey, you came to the right fella!"

Ben grabbed his wrist and led him to a chair where he bid Bucky sit. For the next hour, he was educated on everything from moisturizer to foundation to why Ben wore makeup. They talked about hair care, skin care, and what it meant to be "out" with such enthusiasm. Bucky had never spoken so candidly with anyone about his sexuality and found it enlightening.

He left the shop with five hundred dollars worth of product, a list for the hair salon, and a bunch of links to reputable websites if Bucky had more questions.

The smug on Natasha said she set him up, but he didn't care. He'd had the best day.

And when everything wound up on the counter in his and Steve's shared bathroom, Steve only arched a brow, smiled, and said nothing.

Bucky continued to learn, research, and occasionally visit the mall to have coffee with Ben or his partner Matt. They were always kind, never impatient, and easy-going. He'd begun to wonder if they hadn't realized who he was until one day he asked, and they both looked at him with amused smiles.

"Metal arm, slightly brooding, runs around after a "little punk" but now with a much better skin routine? Honey. Please," Ben snorted.

After, Bucky began to explore and try new things. He cooked, found a love for baking, and especially loved baking for Steve. The man refused to slow down, so it never affected Steve's physique, but Bucky found he was a little bit softer around the middle, his face fuller, his body less hard, and he liked it.

It was nice not to be combat-ready all the time. Sure he could strap on the black and spend nine hours running down Hydra, that hadn't changed, but he had the smallest pudge of a belly, a soft little roll that he loved.

Then, out of the blue, Natasha introduced him to roller derby.

Bucky was thrilled! He'd never seen anything so flashy, showy, violent in all his life that was meant to be fun! Oh, sure he'd watch the wrestling that showed up on TV, but he felt most of that was so phony. This? This was chaos. This was mayhem.

This was freaking awesome!

And the women were great. They were loud and boisterous, or sweet and shy, but when they put on their gear, they all became demons. Natasha occasionally trained with the group known as Red's Devils, a group of women from difficult circumstances she sponsored during the blip. It gave the ladies an outlet for grief, anger, pain that they wouldn't have had otherwise.

Once they met him, they'd put him in a pair of roller skates and dragged him around the track. Of course, with the serum and his enhanced body, getting his balance and figuring out how to move on wheels was cake, and soon he was skating around the room, learning neat tricks and tips from the women catcalling and laughing along with him

Bucky loved it.

Finally, after seventy years as a Hydra pawn and all the crap that came afterward, he'd figured it out, found himself, and was happy. The only thing he wasn't satisfied with was Steve.

It was getting harder and harder to pretend like he didn't tent his pants every time the big dumb blond wandered through the apartment in a towel. Or that "Honey, I'm home!" didn’t make his damn heart flutter. Some days it hurt to look at his stupid beautiful face and not want to kiss it. Or punch it.

He swore Steve's shirts were getting tighter. Sometimes, it felt like his eyes lingered.

The shit was messing with his head, dammit!

Then, just as the world was getting it's shit back together, the pandemic happened. Covid 19 struck, and everything stopped. The world stood still, went into lockdown, and Bucky wanted to slam his head on the wall.

He had been going to his first Pride event with Ben and Matt, ready to step outside and be who he was, while those who didn't approve could kiss his lily-white ass. He was going to tell Steve. He was going to stop hiding, conforming, resiting who he was. And it all went to shit thanks to a fucking virus.

He was pissed! It wasn't fair! He'd been so prepared.

Natasha found him pouting on the couch in the common area of the now mostly empty compound. Anyone who could go home was sent home, leaving them running a skeleton crew of people, and forcing as much separation as possible.

She flopped down mostly on top of him. "Why so glum, chum?"

"Pride's cancelled," he muttered.

She snorted. "No, it's not."

He rolled his eyes. "We're under a shelter in place order, Natalia."

"I'm aware, Barnes," she huffed. "But Pride isn't cancelled. Just because you can't strut down the street waving a rainbow flag doesn't stop what this month is about. It's about you, celebrating you, and all the people who came before you who fought, screamed, raged against injustice and in some cases, died to be able to stand up proudly and say I'm gay, I'm bisexual, I'm transgender. You can't go out. That doesn't mean you can't celebrate."

She patted his chest and left him sitting there to think about what she said.

***

The music that pounded through the compound jerked Steve's head up. Reports forgotten, he rose and went to look out his office door, only to gape in shock as Bucky, wearing the shortest, tightest, black shorts he'd ever seen and a cropped top that showed off his cute little belly, rolled by on roller skates. He'd cut his hair not long ago, his interest in styling it a new hobby. Right now, it was fluffed high and held there with wax, looking soft and shiny and pretty as hell. Glitter sparkled on his cheeks, on his lashes, and glossed his lips.

He smirked as he rolled by, blue eyes amused. "Close your mouth, Rogers."

Steve swallowed thickly and followed Bucky down the hallway. Those shorts should be illegal. The top wasn't much better. The cropped top was blue, sleeveless, showing off defined muscles and metal arm. His skin freaking glowed against the blue.

It was seriously unfair how hot his best friend was, and Steve thanked his lucky stars he'd worn sweats and underwear today that helped disguise the tent forming in his pants.

When Bucky stooped to pick up a big ass rainbow flag, Steve's jaw dropped. He knew what June first represented, how did Bucky?

Like a moth to a flame, Steve followed Bucky into the common room where Bucky was skating in happy circles, singing along to the music.

"I like boys, I like pecs, like them arms when they flex. Like that print in them sweats. Tell them, girls, "Thank you, next." I like when they text me sexy pics of 'em, like them abs when there's six of 'em. Tell them girls I'm sorry; I like boys, Mama, boys like me."

Steve's jaw dropped. His mind refused to compute what he was hearing. It blue screened, whited out, and returned in time to watch Bucky drop it low and twerk like he'd done it all his life.

"I like when they shake it, shake it. I like when they grind real slow. I like when they almost naked. Tell dad I'm so homo. Lights off, doors shut. Tall, dark, clean-cut. Thick with a bubble but. Yup, Mama, I like boys."

A sound like a fax machine escaped his throat as Bucky danced, shook his ass, swung his hips, and sent Steve's mind so far into the gutter he wondered if it would ever come out.

"Bitch, B to the O to the Y to the S, Boys will be boys, and with boys, I'm obsessed. Boys in their gym clothes, boys in a dress, and if boys are a crime, then I'm under arrest. 'Cause I've been boy crazy since the boy scouts. Fuck the closets, let the boys out. Don't be a camel when you are a llama, period. No comma, bring on all the drama. Mama, I like boys, I like pecs, like them arms when they flex. Like that print in them sweats. Tell them girls, "Thank you, next." I like when they text me sexy pics of 'em. Like them abs when there's six of 'em. Tell them girls I'm sorry; I like boys, Mama, boys like me."

The music continued to play, but Bucky rolled away from the window, leaving the flag he'd been carrying behind on the couch when he skated up to Steve and stopped. On the skates, Bucky was inches taller and caused Steve to tilt his head back to look up at him as he had when they were kids.

"So," Bucky murmured, a blush under the glitter and eyes suddenly shy and uncertain. "I like boys."

Steve's heart clenched. Before he could stop himself or second guess what he was doing, his hand shot out, grabbed the back of Bucky's neck, and dragged his friend down in a kiss that had been pent up for almost a century.

Bucky squeaked, flailed once, almost rolled away, and finally wrapped his arms around Steve in a near bone-crushing hug. Lips slanted, mouths softened, parted, inhaled, changed the angle and softened.

Tingles raced through Steve's body as he kissed Bucky, his Bucky, pouring every bit of emotion he felt into it. Then, he nipped his teeth into Bucky's lip and slowly pulled away.

"I'm bisexual," Steve murmured. "I've known for years."

"You punk-ass piece of shit! Why didn't you say something?" Bucky barked, but Steve noticed he didn't let go.

"There wasn't time." He gently squeezed Bucky's nape. "And how do you tell your best friend in the whole world you've been in love with him your entire life?"

"Steve…" Bucky whispered, resting their foreheads together. "You're an idiot."

Steve kissed him again because there was no refuting that logic.

***

From the second-floor observation deck, Natasha turned her phone camera from the scene below to her grinning face. The live stream event had hearts and comments blowing up her Instagram. "Happy Pride everyone. If those two old farts can figure it out, anyone can."

She blew a kiss at the camera and ended the stream.

-The End-

#i like boys #stucky #tumblr exclusive #for pride month

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years ago

Text

Push and Pull (Part 23)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing

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Daphne's head rested on the glass of the cab window as it drove. After falling asleep the day before, she'd ended up sleeping well past noon. She'd woken to a message from Mrs Grimes asking for an update and decided to go and see her. She’d needed a serious talk with her about what they'd found. This was so much more than some petty revenge and she needed to make sure she knew that. When she'd shown Mrs Grimes what she'd found, even the older woman was shocked and a little frightened. She knew he'd been getting money slipped under the table from the mob but she hadn't realised just how bad it was. Daphne had told her that she'd been working with Brett on the Italian case and she needed to pass over the intel. She told her to hold off on the divorce thing for now because it wasn't the best time and she might end up hurt. Her advice was to act normally as to not give anything away, and since the married couple rarely saw each other these days, it wouldn't be too hard. With protective custody not being an option as it would have sent off red flags, she assured her that once she told the cops, they'd have eyes on her to make sure she was fine.

Mrs Grimes seemed satisfied about it all and even agreed to cooperate with the police when the time came. It was selfish in nature since she'd known about some of the shady dealings and kept it quiet. She probably hoped it would keep her out of trouble. But in the end she would eventually get what she wanted, which was her husband disgraced and locked up. So she agreed.

Now Daphne was on her way to the station to give Brett what she had. She worried her lip, eyes glazed as she stared out of the window. Her mind was swirling with what she'd found and it itched at her brain that the pieces didn't quite fit. She didn't understand why Mr Grimes had written down the name of a military ship or how it was connected to this mysterious weapon. She even wondered if it was some kind of military weapon but even that still didn't explain how the Italians would be connected to it. Her brain hurt. It was all way above her paygrade and she just wanted to hand off what she had to the cops and leave it at that. This was their problem. Of course she'd help out in her own way if Brett needed her to and she wouldn't rule out the possibility of her doing her own recon because of her natural curiosity and need to know things. But for now, she needed a break. Things had been way too hectic and now she had to deal with the lingering anxiety over just what was coming for Hell's Kitchen.

Once the cab pulled up, she murmured a thanks as she paid the driver and got out. The sun felt like it burnt into her retinas and she winced. Despite the long sleep, she was still tired. Her sleep schedule was all fucked and her body was angry at her for it. She'd also not been eating much lately and she was well aware of how she was starting to lose weight. She had on jeans and a simple tee, her backpack slung over her shoulder and her hair in a messy bun on the top of her head. She didn't even look in the mirror before she left the apartment this morning.

"Daphne!" She turned her head as she rubbed her bleary eyes, finding Karen, Matt and Foggy loitering outside the precinct, Karen being the one to call her over. She didn't know why she was surprised to see them since they seemed to be here more often than not. She walked over, her hand clutching the strap of her backpack.

"Wow, you look rough," Foggy winced at her and she squinted.

"Just what every girl wants to hear," she snorted wryly.

"No! I mean… I just meant, you know, you look… tired and maybe a little… sickly," he muttered carefully.

"She's not been eating," Matt piped up, earning a dirty look. She almost made a quip about him using his senses and hearing her growling stomach but she kept her lips firmly sealed given present company.

"As fun as this is, I need to give Brett what I found from the ball," she sighed.

"That bad?" Karen asked sympathetically.

"Bad and confusing," she huffed.

"Anything useful?" Matt asked as he glanced her way.

"I'll swing by the firm when I'm done here and you guys can see for yourself," she murmured. She didn't linger around much longer before jogging up the steps and heading inside. She headed straight for the offices, peeking her head through the door. When Brett looked up, she gestured with her head for him to go to her.

"Got something?" He asked curiously.

"Yeah. We need privacy though," she muttered tensely. He nodded, looking apprehensive of the news she might have as he led her to an empty interrogation room. Once they both sat down, she grabbed the file she had made from her backpack and slid it over to him.

First she explained about her case with Mrs Grimes since she hadn't done so before. She anticipated the lecture he gave her about how risky her plan at the ball had been, but he couldn't deny it was worth it. He was just as confused about the cryptic writings from the journal but he seemed very interested in the evidence of Mr Grimes selling information. There were a lot of names in the book and that gave them some leads on where to look. It seemed to take forever to explain the whole thing to him but she wanted to make sure she hadn't left any of it out. She wanted to hand this case over to the cops so she could wash her hands of it. Or as much as she could since it would still bother her that she couldn't figure it out.

She was dead on her feet by the time she got to Nelson and Murdock and she walked right in. They were just seeing out a client, saying their goodbyes as she loitered in the waiting room patiently. Karen pushed her gently to sit in a chair and then the other three did the same, sat in some kind of weird circle. Crime seekers anonymous.

"Alright, let's hear it," Foggy said resolutely.

"There were two books. These are from the first one. Some kind of record of his transactions with the Italians. I did some digging and the ones with crosses next to them are all missing. I think it's safe to presume they're dead," she said wearily, handing them her own file on the case.

"What about the other book?" Matt asked. She was so tired she almost handed the pictures to him and told him to see for himself. She was glad she didn't because she'd feel like a real asshole. Instead, she handed it to Karen.

"He's fucking insane. I can't make heads or tails of the shit he wrote about. The only good thing I got were some names of big players. And also that," she muttered, pointing to the picture of the cinnamon dusted writing as Karen looked at it. She read it out loud and furrowed her brow.

"What does that even mean?" She frowned.

"Maybe some kind of code?" Foggy suggested with a shrug.

"It could be," Matt sighed. He sounded as frustrated as she felt.

"Why's the writing all weird and redish?" Foggy questioned as he took the picture from Karen.

"The page was ripped out but the imprint was left behind. I only had cinnamon," she snorted in reply. Foggy found it hilarious and Karen grinned as she shook her head.

"Resourceful as always," Matt smirked at her.

"I tried. It's not the greatest shit I've found but it's better than what we had. I gave Brett everything so I guess it's up to the cops now," she sighed.

"Which means you can actually get some sleep and eat real meals," Matt said firmly as he looked in her direction.

"I miss the days you cooked for me," she muttered in contempt.

"Wait, what? You used to cook for her?" Karen shot them both a goofy grin like it was the cutest thing she’d ever heard.

"Damn right he did! He'd send me over with it and I might have kinda kept it from her that Matt was the one who cooked it. But it's only 'cause she really didn't like him back then,” Foggy chuckled.

"That's adorable. Why'd you stop?" She asked as she glanced at Matt. He'd been looking somewhat bashful with his head lowered and he chuckled.

"He started banging her instead," Foggy replied. He seemed to do so without thinking because he looked shocked before snorting at the dirty look Daphne shot him.

"Foggy, I will hit you with my cane," Matt glowered. He was vaguely amused though if his slightly quirked up lips were anything to go by. Daphne covered her mouth as a giant yawn forced its way out.

"Alright, it's time for you to get to bed, missy," Karen said firmly, pointing at her.

"Need me to walk you?" Matt asked. She shook her head as she stood up, putting her case files back in her backpack.

"I'm just gonna get a cab. I'm not sure if I can walk home right now," she admitted with a grateful smile.

Karen pulled her into a warm embrace which was soon followed by Foggy's bearhug. She was a little caught off guard when Matt pulled her into a hug too but she didn't say anything. She just gave him a quick hug back and presumed he did it so it didn't look weird that he didn't. Her brain was too tired to care.

She dozed off a few times in the cab home. She felt like she could sleep for a week and part of her wondered if she should. She could have a mini break from all of this. Just relax before she took on another case. When she finally made it up the million stairs of her building, she unlocked her door and trudged through. There was a brown envelope on the floor, someone slipped it under the gap at the bottom. She frowned as she scooped it up. She idly wondered if it was the landlord or something.

She tossed it on the coffee table as she got ready for bed. Once in her pyjamas, she opened it. She was going to leave it until the morning but honestly, her curiosity wouldn't let her. After ripping it open, she stilled completely at what she was looking at. It was a picture of her. She was just out walking in the street, no doubt running some kind of errand. She turned the picture over in her hand and read the writing scribbled on the back.

'They're watching you'.

She inhaled a sharp breath, a chill running down her spine. Her first thought upon seeing it was that it was a veiled threat from the Italians. Something to scare her. But the wording suggested that even though it was most likely the Italians who took the picture, the person who sent it wasn't. It wasn't a threat, it was a heads up. A warning. She had no idea who it could be. Anyone she actually knew would have just told her.

She felt unsettled when she slipped into bed. The knowledge that someone was watching her, that a target was on her back, worried her. She thought she'd been careful but somehow they knew. She wasn't sure what to do about it all. A huge part of her knew she should tell Brett or Matt, anyone. But she didn't want to drag anyone else into this mess. She didn't want anyone else she knew with a target on their backs. She'd keep it to herself for now and see if anything else happened. She fell to sleep with the lingering question of who it was that sent her the picture.

Taglist:

@purplexparadise

@strawb3rrydr3ss

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #daredevil x oc #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil

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