#or it could be a rib or my spleen

[hisgoodgirl666]

ooooomfg do i have fractured rib cartilage from doing kinky shit??…. (and why is my first reaction to be turned on?? lmao)

[brucewaynehater101]

Hello, I am the person from a few days ago that mentioned House MD. .y idea for it is very simple and very funny. Tim ends up in House's hospital with House as his doctor. He was found unconscious on the side of the road with 3 stab wounds, two broken ribs, and a broken leg.

Tim is Knocked Out and in Civilian Clothes with No Wallet. Which means No ID. They call him John Doe for now and move on to stitching him up and doing an xray of his chest so they can fix up his ribs and check for internal bleeding from the stabs. They are having some kind of debate about how the kid has clearly had his ribs shattered many, many times and how they healed when House suddenly stands up and says, "all of you are missing the forest for the tree. Ignore the ribs for a second before the kid dies." He then leaves the room to the confusion of all the assistants. It takes almost ten seconds for one of them to yell, "WHERES HIS SPLEEN"

Within an hour Tim has been put in one if their Anti Germ Bubbles for the Immuno Compromised. Oh the bright side he 100% has a room all to himself! Tim wakes up in the bubble, very confused with House looming over him. Tim is Baffled and says, "who send you? What info are you after?" And House just says, "im your doctor. What's your name so we can stop calling you John Doe The Spleenless Wonder."

Tim and House verbally joust almost constantly for Tim's entire stay and honestly? Most relaxed he's been in *years*. However it takes *days* for them to pry him name out of him and it's not even *from* him. Someone saw his face on a magazine in the grocery store check out and went "that's out John Doe!!" And when Tim tells them that he is Tim Drake he simply says, "I didn't tell you for a very simple reason. If word got out it was The Tim Drake in your hospital, which is outside Gothem, could you imagine the Paparazzi? And what would happen? I can garentee you at least one person would show up trying to kill me. Why do you think I was outside gothem beat up? Assassins, obviously." House's boss is terrified this guy is gunna sue them into the ground for how House has been jabbing at him constantly.

House simply asks why his bones look like Swiss Cheese and Tim simply raises an eyebrow at him and says, "I live in Gothem."

Later on after Tim gets released, he buys the entire hospital, becomes its new boss, goes to House's boss who actually runs the hospital and says, "I do not care about running this hospital. It's all up to you, I want No Power here. I am simply here to triple your budget, no quadruple it. And you remain completely in power on one condition. I want House to be my Primary Doctor. He's fun."

Oh and if you want some Angst, House asking if Tim wants to call someone to pick him up and Tim says, "oh, I have a tracker on me. Someone will show up to check me out once they notice I'm missing." House squinting at him and says, "you've been here two weeks. So I don't believe you." But Tim is telling the truth. His tracker has said he's been at an out of city hospital for weeks and no one really noticed he was even gone.

Fuck yeah. I've seen some clips of House and, despite the large amounts of medical malpractice they should be sued for, Tim would absolutely enjoy House's banter.

Also, I'd so live for House and Tim trying to trick each other. Tim realizes quickly that House doesn't believe a word about what Tim says about how he got his injuries. House keeps trying to pull one over on Tim so that Tim actually receives medical treatment (especially because Tim keeps going back out on field with injuries). It becomes a somewhat friendly game

Fair warning, I'm probably about to butcher House's character. Idk enough about him, but here's what I think. Tim would prefer House as his main doctor for two reasons:

How House cares

House isn't Batman/Bat affiliated

For the first point, House does care but not in the way most others do. I think Tim will eventually start telling House the truth about how he gets his injuries because of how House reacts. House isn't going to be overly sympathetic, pity Tim, or try to mother hen him. Tim will stroll up, say he's been held without food for a week and has 3 broken bones, and House will just banter with Tim.

If Tim's being an idiot (like not resting), House won't try to tell him off. He won't yell or undermine Tim. He'll just point blank tell Tim he deserves whatever injury he got for being an idiot while helping the vigilante treat it.

Tim will never admit to being a cape, but he eventually trusts House enough not to hide it.

Then there's House not being a Bat doctor. Leslie may or may not inform Bruce of any injuries Tim gets that Leslie deems is important for Bruce to know about. Alfred for sure won't hide that shit. Either way, whether founded or not, Tim can't trust those doctors to give away his information "for his own good."

House probably wouldn't go out of his way to inform Bruce (especially if we add on your angst angle).

Probably fucked up House's characterization, but let me know what ya think! Feel free to send another ask or reblog or whatever with changes ya think I need to add

[taleeater]

Fragile Part 8

Sorry for the long wait! This is a shorter chapter, because I’m making a poll!! :] Please go vote how you would like this story to end!!

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’ and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, blood, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The brothers burst into the lair. They rushed past Splinter and April, who gasped when she saw you. You hung limply in Raphael’s arms. They quickly took you straight to the lab, where Raphael gingerly laid you down on the large table underneath bright lights. Donnie slid on his goggles and checked you, and cursed under his breath.

“Shit. Their blood pressure is extremely low.” He rifled through drawers and cabinets, grabbing various bottles and tools. Donnie filled a syringe with a clear fluid from a small glass bottle and brought it over to you. “Stockman took a lot of their blood. And if I’m not mistaken, they were fed a variation of barbiturates through the second IV in their back.”

“What does that do?” Leo placed his hands on the table at your side, looking across as Donnie rolled your broken arm facing up so he could slide in the needle and administer the injection. April, Splinter, and Mikey all waited by the door.

“Well, it has a highly sedative effect in large doses. That, and combined with the chemical soup that filled their tank, ….they’re starting to slip into an artificial coma.”

All eyes in the room went wide with shock. Raph turned away from the table and stormed over to the wall and punched the brick. Hard.

“And what do we gotta do to stop it?!” He said gritting his teeth.

Mikey rushed over to your side past Leo and picked up your hand, pleading with you.

“Come on babycakes! Snap out of it! We still gotta make fudge brownies together!!”

Leo placed a comforting hand on his little brother’s shoulder.

“Donnie?” Leo asked.

Donnie rubbed a hand tiredly across his face. “There’s not much I can do until I fully assess their injuries. I just administered some pain killers. They’re not strong enough to handle stimulants right now. Administering adrenaline like April did with us will only make their injuries worse.”

Everyone looked solemn. Leo was looking down thinking back to the lab where they found you. Trying to figure out if there was anything they missed. That’s when he noticed a purple splotch peeking out from underneath your shirt. He narrowed his eyes and reached out to touch you.

“Leo, what-?” Donnie swallowed his words as Leo lifted up your shirt marginally, and the blackened canvas of purple and blue skin was revealed decorating your stomach.

Leo let your shirt slip from his finger and his hand fell to his side, tightening his fist. His hands trembled with rage.

They all did.

“Bebop and Rocksteady….” Mikey said lowly. His expression hard and serious.

“Those bastards-” Raph was standing by the head of the table. Looking down and clenched his fists.

Donnie’s eyes looked far away as he reached out and hesitated to touch you.

“This is…. really bad.” Donnie’s hand trembled as he traced your stomach, pressing down in certain spots to feel the damage. Even while sedated with drugs and heavy pain killers you still winced at the probing.

“Three, no- Four broken ribs. Damage to the liver, spleen, and small intestine.”

Mikey turned and left the room silently at hearing Donnie’s report. April followed after him to comfort him. Splinter was standing in the doorway with a heavy frown.

Leo swallowed his anger and looked up at Donnie.

“How do we treat them.”

Donnie turned away.

“They need a blood transfusion.”

“But that’s-!” Raph cut in.

“I know. That’s why I’ll ask April and Casey to test their blood first. But most likely-“

“It’ll be from one of us.” Leo finished for him.

Raph looked between the two and stepped forward. “I’ll do it.”

“No, I will. It’s my turn to step up.” Leo looked from Raph to Donnie and nodded his head, then walked out of the room. April passed him by as she walked over to Donnie. She asked him what materials they needed her to pick up from their connection at the hospital, and Donnie started writing her a list. Raphael was assigned to go with her for protection and heavy lifting in case the Foot were out looking for them, and Mikey was sent to go meet up with Casey and bring him back to the lair after his meeting with the NYPD supervisor.

No less than 30 minutes later, Donnie had your forearm and ankle in casts, and two ice packs covering your stomach. Mikey had brought a clean pillow from his room to slide under your head. It was confirmed after some testing that Casey and April’s blood were not compatible with the mutagen in your bloodstream. You needed mutant blood to stabilize the transfusion.

You needed their blood to save your life.

Donnie was rushing to get the IV set up. By now you were breathing hard with a slight fever, skin cool to the touch despite the heavy blankets they covered you with.

“If we wait any longer there’s a chance they’ll go into shock!” Donnie said as he wiped down your arm with an alcohol wipe.

“And you said that our mutagen will help them, right?” Leo confirmed, sitting at your bedside with the other half of the IV already set up.

“I said it will give them a boost to heal faster, but we don’t know if it will destabilize their mutation or not. We have a higher concentration of mutagen in our blood than they do. If their antibodies can’t handle the shift, they could end up overwhelmed and mutate like Stockman did.”

“So there’s a risk they’ll end up like us?!” Raph protested. He was worried.

“But their body will reject the human blood because of their mutated antibodies, like you guys. We don’t have any other options.” Casey reasoned with him.

“I don’t want (y/n) to die. I’d rather they live and hate us than die when we could’ve saved them.” Mikey said sadly from the table he was sitting on at the other side of the lab.

“They’ll understand, Mikey. Don’t worry, we’re all here for them.” Assured April.

“We must have hope. Their safe recovery is what is most important.” Splinter said in contemplation.

“It’s a risk we have to take.” Donnie affirmed. He locked eyes with each of his brothers, Splinter, April, and Casey, and once he got nods of approval from everyone, he inserted your IV.

“Now, we wait.”

Part 9 [End]

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[mediumgayitalian]

The satellite dish at Camp Half-Blood would be better suited as a cereal bowl.

It hardly works. It catches a grand total of nineteen channels, twelve of which are news stations, and the final seven almost never have anything playing that’s actually worth watching. But the DVD player only ever works every third month, and the strawberry plants have to be watered, so on rainy days, the sixteen of them cram into the rec room of the Big House, organised, fight-reduction seating for as long as Nyssa can tiredly maintain it, and squabble over the remote.

“It’s my turn! Give it to me!”

“Quit whining you little twerp —”

“Will! Make her give me the remote!”

“Snitch! Snitch! Sherman, beat him up —”

Nico narrowly dodges Kayla’s dirty sneaker, sniggering to himself as Will and Sherman share, for perhaps the first time in either of their lives, an identical sigh of endless suffering, each grabbing one sibling and yanking backwards. They’ve really dug their claws in, so it takes a couple tries.

“Kayla,” Will warns, both hands clamped around her ankles, “if you don’t let go in three damn seconds —”

“Ellis sucks at picking channels!”

“Everybody sucks at picking channels! We got maybe four to choose from!”

“Seven,” correct several people at once.

Will rolls his eyes. “Forgive me. I forgot about the three toddler channels the rest of y’all babies are so enthralled by.”

“As if you don’t watch Sesame Street with as much childlike glee as the rest of us, Solace.”

“Can it, Diaz. Kayla, remove your nails from his face!”

A hand tugs on his sleeve. Nico glances over to find Austin’s big, pleading eyes, and since he is a massively weak loser, apparently, he sighs, mouth twitching when Austin wiggles happily, and plunges his hand into the nearest shadow.

He digs around for a second, trying to orient himself, and smirks when he sees his hand reappear across the couch, right in between Kayla and Ellis’ heads. He waits, watching for a break. Austin watches carefully next to him, hands still around his other wrist, and when the timing is right — a twitch in Kayla’s knee indicating an oncoming kick that even Will won’t be able to stop — he squeezes. Nico darts between them, snatching the remote for himself. He passes it to Austin with a wink. Austin points it to the TV immediately, clicking it to what everyone has aptly named the ‘Grandma Channel’ — twenty-four-seven footage of gardening set to quit jazz.

Thirteen groans — one cheer by Miranda, their lone ally — sound at once.

“You’re weak as all hell, di Angelo,” Billie informs him, obviously a fake gardener. Shame.

He makes a face at her.

Despite their troubles, the peace of the Grandma Channel does not last. In what can only be a coordinated attack, Nico and Austin are lulled into a false sense of security, entranced by a particularly satisfying timelapse of a grape vine, and when their guards are down, they are ambushed. With a deafening war cry, Harley is flung bodily on top of the two of them, landing with two gleeful elbows to Nico’s shoulder and Austin’s ribs, rendering them breathless and perhaps even close to death.

“No maiming,” Austin protests, wheezing.

“I’m telling Chiron,” Nico agrees, similarly struggling to reinflate his lungs. He glances at his medic boyfriend, also known as Judas, who only shrugs, smirking. His thumb is notably smeared with grease, a consequence of touching Harley no matter how many times Nyssa forces him to shower. Traitor. “No maiming is, like, the only rule here.”

Harley climbs off of them, elbows once again violating the rule on the way off. Nico actually feels his spleen compress into the size of an atom.

“Tough!”

The little twerp hands his prize to his big sister, who points it at the screen gracefully, as if she did not just use said brother as a weapon against two innocent people. Constantly innovative, those Hephaestus children.

Nyssa, on account of having hands like steel wires and a right hook that could make Muhammad Ali fall crying to his knees, is left peacefully alone with the remote. Nico glares at her, as he often does, with equal amount of hatred and awe. His emotions are widely replicated across the overstuffed couches.

She clicks rapidly through the channels, as she always does, fast enough that the sound echoes like static along with the rain.

breaking — jump! — traffic — learn — George — crayon — soil — sale —

She hardly rests in a channel for more than a second, cutting in the middle of sentences and even words, images flashing rapidly across the screen, swirling colour and skipping melodies, steadied by the roll of thunder, the patter of raindrops, the roar of wind and away of bending trees.

kids! — buy — gun — bridge — add — spade — colour — nine — east —

Austin sighs from beside him, sinking into the couch. Nico breaks away from the hypnosis for a moment to glance at the rest of the room and finds everyone else similarly entranced; eyes half-lidded and unfocused against the still-swirling TV, heads tilted back, curled into each other, limbs slow, fingers tapping quietly.

run — neat — rose — pasta — schools — closure — Sola — bumper —

“Wait,” Will murmurs.

gym — roll — climb — bush — accident — bud —

The old couches creak as Will shifts, Kayla pushed gently to the side as he moves forward.

“Nyssa, wait. Go back.”

The rain seems to mute itself. Nico is aware, quite suddenly, of the stiff set to Will’s spine, the odd quality of his voice. Nyssa, too, must recognize it, because she glances over at him, then slowly back to the TV, pressing the channel button once and setting the remote carefully on the coffee table in front of her.

No one grabs it.

“— terrible tragedy,” says a news anchor. “Unbelievably, really, Barbara, and something so sudden —”

“No,” Will says.

“Yes, Dave, always something you read about in old newspapers but never remember happens in real life —”

“No. No.”

He reaches for the remote but misses the first time, patting blindly on the table, and the second time, too, eyes glued to the bright screen. His hand scrabbles, nails digging on the old wood, increasingly desperately, but his eyes won’t move, face won’t pivot. Nico swallows, pushing back the sting of bile crawling slowly up his throat, the dullness in his ear, muffled like his ear is turned to a soundproofed wall. The hands he tells to reach over and hand the remote to Will don’t work.

“— almost makes me think of James Dean. That’s Naomi Solace, for those just tuning in, currently in critical condition from a head-on collision with a semi in Savannah, Georgia —”

Nico’s ears white out completely.

Will’s knees hit the floor.

———

next

[thestarrynightslover]

Whatever Comes

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 2,147

Warnings: A lot of angst. Mentions of blood, life-threatening injuries, hit-and-run, fracture wounds, and miscarriage.

Summary: Doctor (y/n) (y/l/n) and Jay Halstead are secretly dating when there is a terrible accident involving (y/n) and a lot comes to light.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way, or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Okay, so this is my first fic in a long while and I don't think it's all that good but I had to restart somewhere, so I hope you like it anyway!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

You had just gotten out of your car across the street from the side of Med and, as you were making your way through the bit of road that led to the hospital, a car comes into the driveway — screeching tires, in full speed — and runs you over long before you could even see anything and, there, in the matter of a few seconds, everything goes black and you’re left bleeding out in the street.

Almost an hour later, after you had regained consciousness and had begun dragging yourself, very slowly, towards the hospital, Will and Ethan, about to go inside Med, spot you and run your way eager to help you out — even if they hadn’t known it was you at first.

“Oh man, it’s Dr. (y/n) (y/l/n)!” Ethan exclaimed.

“(y/n), can you hear me?!?” You sort of heard Will ask through your dizziness haze.

“Wow, you’re actually shorter this up close than I had imagined at first.” You attempted a joke with your friend, momentarily gaining some clarity.

Ignoring you, Will just asked no one specifically, “oh Lord, how long has she been bleeding out here?”

Decisive as always, you heard as Dr. Choi commanded, “I don’t know but, come on, Will, let’s carry her to the ED!”

As soon as your friends get inside the hospital with you, everybody stays in shock for a moment until Maggie yells: "get her in treatment 4, now!"

Following her lead, Will and Ethan get started on treating you, who has a few broken ribs, and free fluid in your belly besides from a punctured spleen. Having done their best in the ED, they decide to send your upstairs for surgery with Crocket.

Once you're going to surgery, Miss Goodwin tells Maggie and the doctors to call PD and specifically ask for Intelligence, since you were friends with the unit. As the cops get there, one stands out: Jay Halstead. He's frantic, devastated-looking, just completely lost, and desperate to hear more news about your condition. No one really understands why he is reacting like that, but all of them do share the fear of losing a great friend. Voight's giving out assignments to the team, so Jay knows that that's when he needs to speak up.

"Um, sarge?" All eyes are on him. "If you and the team don't mind running one man short today... I was hoping that I could, um, stay here with- with her?" Hank just stares at him, unlike everyone else — who are shocked — the older man's focus is on his detective's eyes, on the way he was so distraught from the moment they got the call about (y/l/n). That was the behavior, the look, of a terrified man. And, as everyone there knew, Jay Halstead — the freaking war vet — wasn't one to get scared easily. "(y/n) and I-"

"It's fine. No need to explain. You should stay here, Jay. Let us know, in case anything changes. And we'll catch the son of a bitch." He said firmly, making Jay feel as appreciative as ever, and, also, sending an implicit message to all the other members of the unit, one that said: we work this with all we got right now, for (y/n), and for Jay, no questions asked.

After the officers left the hospital, there was still a big commotion from everyone who stayed, because it was one of their own up there in the or. But, surpassing everyone else's, was Will's surprise by how distraught Jay looked, especially considering how his little brother wanted to stay at the hospital, instead of going to find who hurt you. So he comes to confront the detective about it. "So... You and (y/n) are a thing?" Will asked, trying to understand. Since Jay just nodded his head, he decided to push a little further: "And... Were you ever planning to tell me? What the hell, man?"

"Will, I-"

"She's one of my best friends, Jay! Not to mention the fact that I'm the doctor who oversees her work here!"

"Will you put it down?" Jay pleaded with his brother, motioning him to a more reserved corner of the waiting room. "I know, okay? I know. And I'm sorry if it upsets you, man, I really am. But this could've blown her career. That's why we hadn't told you yet." It was clear that Will didn't exactly like his brother's explanation, but he knew it was true.

"Just... How long?"

"Um, about six months?"

"Six months?!" The doctor yelled in shock, then repeated it in a lower tone. "But, six months?"

"Yeah, I know it's a lot of time keeping you in the dark, Will. But, trust me, we weren't thrilled about it. And we were hoping to tell you soon. I swear." Jay said, and his brother could, once again, see it was the truth.

"So, that means that when you started seeing each other she was still finishing med school?"

"Yeah, that's right. Which was, like, the main reason for us to keep it under wraps. An intern dating the attending doctor's little brother? Wouldn't look good."

"That's true..." At that point, Will took another look at his brother. Jay looked so worried and scared, even while trying to hide it. "So, uh, you guys are serious?" That question got a little smile out of the detective.

"Yes, we are. I know that it is new for you... But, I love her, Will. I really do." He took a moment to breathe, not being able to hold back some tears this time. “And, I can’t lose her. I just can’t.”

“Jay…” Will started saying but didn’t quite know how to continue. What could he possibly say to comfort his brother right now? “We just… We just gotta stay hopeful, okay? (y/n) is a really tough person and Dr. Marcel is a great surgeon, you know it. She is gonna pull through.”

A lot of disquieting hours later Crocket finally comes out of the surgery, just to be met by a very worried hospital staff and an on-edge Jay Halstead.

"Where is sh- How is she? Is (y/n) okay? Can I see her?" The detective hovers, not even taking a breath.

"Wow! Uh, you gotta calm down a little, buddy."

"Don't give me that crap! Just- just tell me how she is!" Jay shouts again, not giving a damn about what anyone was thinking. You were the only thing on his mind right now.

"Alright. But try to keep breathing, okay?" To that, the other man didn't even bother to answer. "Okay, um, it was a very complicated surgery, I had to do a lot of cleaning and moving around to get to the worst parts and-"

"Can you please just cut to the part where you tell me if she's okay? No offense, but you can fill me in on the details later." Jay stated nervously. It wasn't just that he wanted to know what was the result of all those hours in the or, but, also, because Jay knew he wouldn't understand half of what Connor was saying, even with the simplified language. You would. But not him.

"Right. Okay. She's, um, she's okay for now. We'll need to monitor her on an hourly basis, though." By that point, the surgeon could already see the relief on both Halsteads' faces, so he went on. "We controlled the bleeding, but, with all the blood loss," he stopped to take another look at the detective, "I'm afraid," another pause, because, sure he had delivered this kind of news before, but this time it was a lot harder, because those people were his friends. And, what they had just lost, he had just lost too, in a way, "we couldn't save the baby."

"The baby?" This time he got an answer from both brothers.

"Uh, uh... You, uh, you didn't know she was pregnant?" Crocket asked, kind of already guessing the answer while sharing a look with Will.

"Oh my God..." It was all the youngest Halstead managed to let out. Seeing how his brother was unable to react any further, Will decided to step up and ask the tough questions.

"So, um,  if everything goes well from now on, you think that (y/n/n) will make a full recovery?"

"Ahhh, yes, actually. She was in great health, so, after making it through, uh, through the night, she shouldn't have any major issues." At that point, Marcel himself was trying to be as objective and as doctorish as possible, in order not to make things worse for the man who had just heard that he lost a child he didn't even have a chance to wait for.

"So, is it, um- is it possible that she didn't know about the pregnancy yet?" But, damn it, Will just kept asking all the impossible questions.

"Uh... It is, actually. Very possible." Hearing that, the detective immediately glued his eyes on him. "We estimate that the fetus was about seven weeks. It's very common that women on birth control haven't found out about it at that point." As neither Halstead said anything, Marcel continued, "well, she's up in the ICU now and in and out of consciousness but, if you want, you can see her for a few minutes."

Hearing that, the detective came out of his haze and said: "Yeah, I wanna see her!"

A few hours later, as Will Halstead gathered his things after finishing his shift, he decided to go check on you but got surprised when he realized that his brother was still there, in the waiting room. "Jay, what are you still doing here?"

"I'm waiting," he said simply.

"Jay." Will called again, "you can't do this, you need to go home, get some sleep, eat…"

"I'm not leaving her alone."

"She's not gonna be alone, Jay." Not getting any response, Will decided to lead with something else. "You know, Voight called Goodwin and said that they're hitting a lot of walls in the (y/l/n) investigation…" Measuring his brother's reaction, Will continued: "Maybe they'd have better luck working with the whole team…"

"Yeah, you're probably right. Tomorrow I'll tell Voight that I want in on the investigation." Jay said, not making any sign of wanting to leave.

"Jay, you can't work tomorrow after staying here the whole night!" Seeing his little brother still not intending to leave, he threatened, "if you don't go home right now, I'll call Voight myself and tell him that you're in no shape to work-"

"Oh, c'mon! You're gonna do that!"

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you," Will said, looking as serious as they get. "Look, Jay, you know she's in good hands here. And, whatever happens, you'll be the first to know, I've made sure of it."

"But-"

"But nothing, Jay! It's time to go, come on!" Will pressed so much that Jay resigned himself to do as his brother told him.

For almost a week, you stayed in the ICU. For almost a week, Jay Halstead passed by Med on his way to work and on his way home from work.

Once you were moved to a room, Jay started feeling like he could finally breathe again, even though there was now the baby that someone had still to tell you. And, after chatting with Will and Crockett, Jay had already decided he was gonna be the one to deliver the news to you. So, one day, after Intelligence had already caught the drug dealers that were running away when they hit you, Jay asked Voight for the afternoon off to take you home from the hospital.

When you were at your place, you asked Jay what was going on: "Hey, you didn't say a word on the way here, is anything besides the fact that I just spent almost two weeks in the hospital and that everyone found out about us wrong?"

"Let's sit down for a minute, babe."

The minute he said that, you knew there was something really wrong.

"Okay, you're scaring me…" You said while sitting down on the couch.

"I just- I have something important to tell you," and, like that, Jay proceeded to tell you the worst thing you ever heard. It's not like you'd been planning on becoming a mother or anything like that anytime soon but it was still a possibility that was brutally taken away… You and Jay cried together for the first time and, consoling each other, you felt your relationship growing stronger. 

So much so that after some time you could start talking about the future that both of you foresaw with one another and, even though nothing was completely decided, there was one thing you knew for sure: as long as you were together, you could face anything.

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 27

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, dialogue taken directly from Avengers: Age of Ultron, the Eternals being really bad at lying, dealing with their trauma and grief like ADULTS, excessive drinking, insane levels of foreshadowing, language, modern-day Ancient Grecian festivals, Wanda's canonical love of sitcoms.

✦ Word Count: 17.6k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

✦ Author's Note: Oh. My. God. I can't believe we're here at the final chapter of the Age of Ultron arc, the very biggest chapter of the entire story. This was so much fun to write. There's going to be some translations, and a follow-up Author's Note at the end of the chapter to keep this part spoiler-free. Enjoy!

[Master List]

The echoing screams are what pull you away from the low-lit comfort of your bedroom. As the highest shriek trembles down into shuddering sobs in the gentle stillness of night. 

Putting your book to the side, you push away from the bed. Almost the second you open your door, the one across the hall from you is creaking open as well. With his ruffled bedhead and a muffled yawn, Steve gives you a familiar nod as you wordlessly move down the stairs to your unofficially assigned duties.

Pietro’s light is already on, his door ajar. While you continue down to the main level, Steve glides his way across the hall to the second door on the right.

Flicking the switch on the wall, the kitchen’s overhead light temporarily blinds your senses.

“Hey,” you give a worn sigh as you make your way over to the stove. “We talked about this. I know you have good intentions here, but - ”

“It is a calming method, is it not?” Vision questions in a slightly stilted tone as he holds the tea kettle above a red-hot burner.

Maybe those shrieking cries hadn’t just been from the traumatized girl upstairs, but from a whistling pot as well.

“Yeah, but it’s only effective if the water isn’t fully evaporated out. Sort of ruins the tea mix.”

“Ah,” he sighs, setting the kettle down on the adjoining burner. “This is still… confusing.”

With a shrug, you gently push him to the side as you move to fill the kettle back up at the sink, “Hey, you’re leagues ahead of most one-month-olds, give yourself some credit.”

He tilts his head, “I am not a human infant, the correlation does not compute.”

Pushing your hair over your shoulder as you return to the stove, you smile up at the man, “It was a joke, Vision. Or at least, an attempt at one. I’m too tired for this, honestly.”

“I was under the impression that deities did not require sleep.”

Placing the kettle down with a little more force than necessary, you fix the creation with a look.

It had been an odd month and a half for all of you.

Your time in Sokovia was still a close memory, as was apparent in the near-nightly nightmares of the youngest twin. Sometimes, when you close your eyes, you find yourself transported back to the battle. You could still hear the terrified screams, smell the decay around you, and worse yet feel the unmovable hand at your throat.

The team had stayed long after the battle to assist in the clean-up process. Which, in all actuality, just meant giving the bodies a dignified place to rest until a temporary morgue could be set up in a structurally stable location.

You all had worked well into the night before Steve began to wane. Gritted teeth and brushes of I’m fine went on for far too long before the multiple broken ribs, punctured spleen, and several large gashes finally took their toll on him. Natasha, Clint, and Sam hadn’t been much better off either.

But even after they were forcibly removed to seek medical treatment, you and Thor remained. To walk amongst the human race was an honor. You weren’t going to leave the scene of battle when such carnage was left behind. 

It wasn’t until morning, when a slow and steady sunrise peaked over the mountains, that you were finally finished in your duties; aided by a handful of SHIELD agents and local residents who had returned in the early morning hours to see what was left of their city.

There wasn’t much of Old Town that remained standing. And, by last estimates, some 17,000 people had been infected and killed by Ultron’s nano-virus. Another 3,000 were killed during the battle, followed by thousands of injured and seriously critical patients in neighboring hospitals.

You didn’t even like thinking of the week’s total now; between Sokovia, New York, Johannesburg, and London. Not to mention Seoul, where Ultron had attacked Cho’s lab while you all had been distracted by other threats.

“Have I said something to upset you?”

The kettle is whistling.

Blinking, you pull the pot off the heat and fill the awaiting mug.

“No, not at all. Just… lost in thought,” you say with a distant voice as you add the herbal mix.

Vision gives you a hesitant nod.

After letting the tea steep for a moment, you give the man a gentle wave before you head up the stairs. He knew better than to follow after you now.

This had been another adjustment for you, in the aftermath of the battle.

As the Tower had been destroyed, the team split off in search of temporary living situations. Tony went to Malibu, Sam back to his place in D.C., and Clint had an apartment in the city somewhere that he and Natasha were crashing out at. Thor had been offered lodging with Tony, at Pepper’s insistence.

Which of course left one particular supersoldier.

 Steve had been living at the tower for well over a year now; never bothering to get a place for himself in Brooklyn, or anywhere else in the city for that matter. It hadn’t even been a question to offer him a room at your house in Vermont after he was cleared from the hospital.

This only left the true question that was the twins and, well, Vision (as Thor soon named him).

They were technically minors and Vision was technically a weapon, but also a sentient being. The legality of it quickly became complicated by international law and Sokovian law and U.S. immigration and temporary refugee laws. You left all that up to Tony to deal with. He had an army of lawyers in hand for things of this nature, thankfully.

You didn’t want to just leave them there to deal with this newfound freedom on their own. You all knew HYDRA would be on the lookout for them, and if that wasn’t bad enough, you personally knew that SHIELD would be looking to take them in if at all possible as well.

And while it had been different for the others, who were all adults who could reasonably consent to things that Nick would offer, you were all too aware of the fragile state the twins were in. It was one thing to willingly join up with SHIELD, it was another to be convinced to join under possibly false pretenses.

You liked Nick, you trusted him to have your six, but there were certain things you would rather keep clear of his grasp.

If the tower had still been intact, perhaps you would have all gone to live there in a strange form of cohabitation. But, instead, you found yourself housing two mutants, a sentient computer, and a supersoldier. There were stranger things out there, you were sure of it.

Pushing the door to Wanda’s room open a little further, you offer the teen a gentle smile.

You had told Tony that you were used to dealing with teenage twins. Thankfully, he didn’t pester you with questions about that and had merely made temporary guardianship signed over to you.

Pietro is sitting next to her on the bed while Steve remains near the foot of the mattress.

Passing the tea along, you rest your weight against the dresser. Sometimes, she would be able to go back to sleep after a few minutes or an hour of talking. But, it looks like tonight is going to be another one of those situations.

After several minutes of the siblings speaking in hushed Sokovian to one another, the girl gathers the black comforter up and around her like a cloak and makes her way down the stairs with her brother at her side.

Steve gives a tired sigh, rubbing his jaw as he moves to stand beside you after flicking off her bedside light.

From here, you can hear the gentle click and hum of the box T.V. humming to life downstairs. You had offered up your vast collection of movies and shows to her on one of those first restless nights. She had an affinity for sitcoms and romantic comedies, oddly enough.

Offering the blonde a slow smile, you ask, “What was it tonight?”

He folds his arms over his chest, rocking back on his heels as he pointedly doesn’t look at you.

“Her, back in the cell… with the Hulk,” comes the terse breath a moment later.

You can’t help but grimace.

During the clean-up efforts, right after the battle, Bruce had transformed back to himself. And while the Hulk might not have noticed or even cared that Wanda was there, Bruce - the man - had very differing opinions on her presence there.

Holding a good amount of anger over her meddling in Johannesburg, he had almost fully transformed back into his green opposite when you and Thor had both tackled him - dragging him far, far away from the terrified girl. You understood, of course. She had gotten into his mind, had twisted it in such a way that he couldn’t regain control over his other self. 

To see her standing there beside all of you was like being sent back to Johannesburg all over again. And to know the damage it has caused to both the city, the people, and Bruce’s own psyche.

While she was apologetic for her actions, you all knew that she was only a child, following the orders of another abusive force in her life. Bruce logically knew that as well, but he couldn’t help that momentary burst of rage that crippled him like venom.

In that sense, you were grateful that the tower was no more. You weren’t sure how they would be able to exist under one roof.

Not that Bruce stuck around long enough after you landed to find out.

Steve reaches out, taking hold of your forearm with his warm hand.

“It’s going to get better.”

With a shrug, you reply, “It’s okay if it doesn’t too. Not everything can be fixed with hope and well-wishing.”

His eye color seems dim in this light, not the usual electric blue you associate with the afternoon sky. Everything about Steve seemed rather dimmed this past month and a half, though. Perhaps, even you were dimmed, a palette of dreary colors that didn’t quite resemble your past self.

It had been a hard victory; one that was soured by so much death and destruction that you weren’t even sure if you could call the battle a victory. It was just finished. That’s all. The finish to a terrible threat.

He gives you a crooked smile, “Still, nothing wrong with hoping for better days.”

“Yeah,” you nod, holding back a yawn of your own.

With Wanda’s regular nightmares shaking the whole house and her screams echoing across the foundations, it was hard for even you to feel energized. Even with your pendant having a permanent position around your neck.

“You going back to bed?” he asks, gently nodding at your second yawn.

“Honestly? I don’t think I could sleep even if I wanted to.”

With a warm chuckle, Steve shakes his head, “Yeah. Me too.”

Together, you make your way downstairs to the living area. The lights are blessedly low, while the program on the TV is a little hard to look at. Pietro is curled up next to his sister, already snoring at the end of the couch. Wanda gives you a thankful nod as she continues to sip from her tea, pulling the comforter closer around her shoulders.

You and Steve find a spot on the loveseat opposite the couch, just under the window. Vision is hovering in the corner of the room, glancing through a book, though his eyes keep looking up at the TV whenever the laugh track plays.

He had been an entirely different addition to your household. Tony had offered to keep him down in Malibu until there was an adjustment period, but Pepper had been more hesitant. It was only after he picked up Thor’s hammer in the rubble of the market square that anyone on the team even felt comfortable having him around. There was so much of Ultron that could have been left in there.

But Tony had sacrificed JARVIS to the net, wiping every last trace of the rogue bot out. He would chase him to the deepest corners of the web to ensure it. That included Vision’s programming.

And, well, since you had a brief moment of clarity on the rooftop together, you volunteered to house him as well.

Steve’s arm wraps around the back of the sofa, his fingers brushing up against your left shoulder as you lean into him. He didn’t really care for these shows, but he didn’t like staying upstairs while the rest of you convened down here either.

“Oh, look. When it started, I was just trying to be nice to her because she was my brother’s girlfriend. And then, oh, one thing led to another and before I knew it we were… shopping.”

“Oh! Oh my god.”

“Honey, wait, we only did it once! It didn’t mean anything to me.”

“Yeah, right. Sure.”

“Really, Rachel, I was thinking of you the whole time!”

Wanda snorts as Monica chases Rachel across their apartment. Steve lulls his head downward, glancing at you with his soft sleep-deprived eyes. You smile back at him, moving in closer to his side, resting your head upon his shoulder as you tuck in for the rest of the night.

The team had been actively avoiding the public eye in the aftermath of Ultron. It was for the best - that’s what Tony’s PR team told you anyway. That’s another reason your house had been the perfect location to place the twins and Vision. It wasn’t public knowledge, the location of your home, and it was a good distance away from any major city. Unlike Tony down in Malibu, who frequently had paps outside of his mansion - waiting for a picture.

That’s why they decide to keep Steve’s birthday a smaller affair - aside from Steve’s own insistence on not making a big deal out of it. Somewhere upstate where they’re less likely to be recognized; questioned, ridiculed.

Well, the plan was to celebrate the supersoldier’s birthday on his actual birthday, but in the realm of superheroes, plans have a way of falling by the wayside. The team is sent to Atlanta to deal with a threat - you stay behind, for obvious reasons.

You’re in the middle of preparing a lunch for the teens, the next day, when you get a text from Tony.

Change of plans. Meet us in Albany round 7 for Capsicle’s shindig? x.

It would give you time to come up with arrangements for the three others in your house. No one felt particularly comfortable with leaving them to their own devices just yet. Not with HYDRA still being an active threat in the world. 

And, since they were in the public image now, more than just the likes of an old military organization might want to get their hands on two enhanced kids. And a sentient being like Vision.

You make a call to an old friend and manage to arrive at the restaurant just an hour after the team does.

They’re all in an array of outfits - since they only had what was available in their go-bags to change into. Natasha has on a black cocktail dress, while Tony’s in a faded Metallica shirt and jeans. Thor has not changed from his armor, though his cape is absent. Clint has a baggy purple hoodie and grey sweatpants on. Only Steve and Sam look to be wearing their typical style of clothing, in all honesty.

“Hey, there she is!” Barton calls out, making everyone turn their head to see you.

“Who’s watching the Wonder Twins?” Tony questions, peering down from behind his sunglasses. Seriously, only that man would wear sunglasses indoors. 

You smile at the belated birthday boy as you take a seat opposite him at the table. Squished between Clint and the resident billionaire, you answer lightly, “A friend.”

“Ooh, like a godly friend, or - ”

“Tony,” Steve sighs with a gentle shake of his head. “Just for one night.”

Stark gives an exaggerated groan, “Oh, for our resident centenarian…”

“He’s only ninety-seven,” Natasha reminds him behind the rim of her drink.

“Thirty, actually. Thank you,” Steve clarifies with another unruly sigh.

Your eyes meet his from across the white-clothed table, a smirk toying at your lips. Leave it to Tony to find the fanciest steak restaurant around.

“What, are we not counting your years in the ice anymore? Cause if that’s the case, man. You really gotta up the game on modern speaking and tech,” Clint rolls his eyes as he lazily folds his napkin into a swan beside you.

“I believe the Captain looks quite healthy for his advanced age,” Thor goads from the end of the table. “A healthy ninety, for sure.”

Steve just buries his head in his hands, a smile tugging at his lips, “This is why I never go to team dinners.”

Your laugh makes him look up. The glimmer of life in his eyes makes your heart swell.

It would take time for all of you to recover from Ultron’s terror, but you would get there�� in time.

“So,” Tony sighs, leaning back in his chair, his hand upon his stomach. “I have a schedule out for everyone’s birthdays. Where do I put you two?”

You had just finished a very expensive meal of prime-cut steak selections, fresh-catch baked fish, too many countless appetizers and sides to count, and a very decadent birthday cake with glowing sparklers - because ninety-seven candles on top of a cake are apparently considered a fire risk.

Glancing down the table at your fellow God, you just laugh, throwing your balled-up white napkin at Tony.

“We do not abide by such… mortal things.”

“Well, you gotta have a birthdate, right?” Sam speaks up, one arm on the table as his other hand points between the two of you. “Didn’t just pop into existence one day and forget about it, you know?”

“Well…” you lull your head to the side.

“I knew it!” Clint cheers, “Fucking, what did I say? From the head of Zeus comes the goddess ATHENA.”

Pushing at his shoulder, Barton goes cackling to the side, unable to help himself after a drink too many.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m afraid it’s just not a done thing for us,” you apologize. “If you want, however. Pick a random Thursday, and call it Thor’s Day.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Thor chuckles, “No, it is quite literally my day amongst the practitioners of Norse beliefs in this realm.”

“And you,” Tony contemplates, words playing on his tongue. “Athena… Thena… Thur - no, Tue… no. Okay, help a guy out here.”

You laugh, catching sight of the content looking supersoldier from across the table. His eyes follow the conversation between you and the billionaire, a soft and equally amused smile on his face.

“Nothing like that for me, sorry, Tony. You’re just going to have to survive without throwing me a party.”

“Like hell, I will!” he sounds almost aghast, clutching a hand to his chest. “If you don’t give me one, I’m gonna go for April 1st or something, you know.”

Casually leaning back in your chair, you place your used utensils upon your empty plate. That cake had been delicious.

“Personally, I wouldn’t recommend it. Dionysus gets quite annoyed when people try to take his celebrations away from him.” 

When you catch Steve’s curious look, you return his gaze to explain, “April 1st is the beginning of the Great Dionysia, a celebration created back in the 6th century, BC. He would take it as a great offense that anyone would be trying to celebrate me on that day.”

“Hang on!” Clint remarks, tapping at the table. “Athens. They literally named the place after you. There’s gotta be some kind of thing for you. A party, or a day, a week-long festival, right? I’m right, aren't I?”

“Fellas,” Natasha groans, lifting her glass toward you. “Leave the girl alone. Bad enough we have to suffer through Steve’s dronefest of a party. No offense.”

Steve holds up his hands, “None taken. Wasn’t my idea.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony chimes in. “Was there a thank you, Tony, in there that I didn’t catch? Perhaps a thank you for wining and dining us all on this beautiful evening, Tony?”

There’s a collective groan of Thank you Tony and Many thanks Stark, which seem to satisfy the man’s need for recognition for the night.

When you’re outside, long after the waitstaff usually closed up - but Tony had a very generous tip for the restaurant, so they didn’t mind as much - Clint, Natasha, and Sam say their goodbyes. Wishing Steve a good, belated, birthday before they head out.

Tony lingers around as Thor and Steve converse.

“No word yet on our Strucker double. Just some local guy who went missing about three months before everything went down. And as for the other thing - look. I’m doing my best, but the records from back then are shoddy at best…”

You just nod in return. It had been one of the few requests you had made to the billionaire after taking the teens in. It wasn’t necessarily pressing, but after so many years spent in HYDRA’s captivity, you knew there was a chance that information might help them.

“How are they though?” he asks, voice lowered, sunglasses hooked onto his shirt.

“Good as can be, considering,” you answer honestly. “Wanda has nightmares, Pietro does too, sometimes. But they seem to be adjusting well enough. No… accidental outbursts of, you know, magic. And Vision is… well… he’s Vision.”

At that, Tony lets out a bark of laughter.

“Hey, thanks again for that. Taking one for the team just... yeah. You know? But, good news, groundbreaking on the new location is in a week, so we might be looking at early September, mid-October for move-in?”

You blink, “That fast?”

He fixes you with a look.

“Sweetheart, with the right amount of money, you can afford the best contractors out there. I’m not pinching a dime on these plans.”

Stark had been planning the new Avengers location pretty much since the ride home from Sokovia. The blueprints were good to go by the end of the week. And that was between multiple press conferences, a hospital trip, several angry phone calls from Pepper, and trying to safely and legally get two child refugees into the country.

“Sounds like a plan,” you say lightly.

“Well,” he claps his hands, smiling brightly - drunkenly - as he snags his sunglasses to put back on his face. “Come on, Point Break. Let's leave Mr. and Mrs. Rogers to get back home.”

“Tony - ”

You roll your eyes, “Just because we live together, Tony - ”

“Yeah, but you two? So adorable. Like a little nuclear family. Mom, Dad, the two kids, and your cybernetic… pet. You know what - ”

“Okay,” Thor chuckles as Steve drags a hand down his face, a flush of red doting his cheeks. “I think even you’ve had too much to drink, Stark.”

After the God of Thunder manages to corral Tony into the back of his waiting car, Steve saunters over to you - one hand in his pocket and the other tossing his keys up and down.

“Where have I seen this before?” you laugh.

Steve grins, “Come on, let a guy offer you a ride.”

“Well,” you drawl as you both walk over toward his bike. “It is your birthday, after all, so I guess…”

It’s a two-hour ride back to Vermont.

Your hands remain around Steve’s waist as you travel across the lonely freeways and backcountry roads. The warmth of his leather jacket and the rich smell of his cologne keep you company for the ride. You have his shield on your back while his small go-bag is stored under the seat.

At this time of night, you can make out the distant constellations up above. You point them out as you drive, shouting their names for Steve to hear. At one point, he reaches a hand down to squeeze your right hand that’s held tight across his middle.

As he pulls onto the vacant road that leads up to the house, the engine puttering softly, he tilts his head back to say:

“You know, I don’t even think I asked who’s watching Wanda and Pietro?”

You chuckle, leaning your forehead against his upper back, “Just an old friend. He was free tonight, no big plans.”

There’s a nearly audible arch of his brow, “Old friend?”

You nod, letting him feel the gentle up and down of your head against his shoulder.

“From college,” you add.

You know he wants to ask more of you, but he waits until you’re back at the house. A handful of lights are on when you pull up - through the illusion. Downstairs is aglow in yellow tones, while a single bedroom on the second floor has a flashing melody of colorful lights. Wanda was definitely a fan of the mood lights Tony had purchased for her.

Steve parks the motorcycle near the porch. Holding out a hand to help you off the bike, you eagerly stretch your arms.

“Two hours on that might be too much,” you chuckle.

The supersoldier shakes his head, “It was like… an hour-forty, at most.”

“Oh, so you were speeding.”

Cracking a smile in your direction, Steve pulls the keys from the ignition and pockets them in his jacket. Handing over his shield, the supersoldier takes it in his right hand. Wrapping his left arm around your shoulders, the two of you walk up the creaking steps of the porch.

The house, in all honesty, is usually pretty quiet. Even with two teenagers living there. But Wanda and Pietro definitely weren’t your average teens. So, you didn’t question the silence that sometimes overtook your home. After nearly a decade of existing within HYDRA’s grasp, you knew their willingness and ability to make much noise was still limited.

However, you’re slightly surprised to hear a rapturous conversation taking place the minute you enter the central hallway.

Steve’s eyes are immediately locked on the kitchen. A certain change to his posture as he stands straight, shoulders back, chin up, gaze piercing.

Pushing a gentle defusing hand to his chest, you kick off your shoes and move through the archway to your right.

“Is that right?” Vision asks with a sense of excitement in his tone.

“No, it’s quite a fascinating topic if you have the time for it. You know, not many people know this, but - aye! There she is!”

Your smile blossoms into a bright grin as you cross the kitchen to greet the other man.

“Hello, Vision,” you pat the creation’s shoulder politely before you move to hug your friend, “Hi! Thank you again. How was it?”

Releasing you, his hand drifts to rest on your left shoulder.

“Good, really good. Well… quiet, actually. But they’re not too bad. Good kids at heart.”

“Yeah, they are,” Steve stands in the doorway, his arms crossed as he stares at your companion.

“Ah, Captain Rogers,” he says, letting go of you in favor of going over to shake Steve’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Steve glances at you for just a beat before he returns the handshake.

“Huh, good things I hope. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Uhm,” you cough, moving to stand beside the two men, “This is… Isaac, friend from college.”

“Isaac?” Ikaris mouths at you.

“Yeah, you mentioned that already,” Steve stares down at you.

Ikaris forces a smile, “Yeah we studied at… college, together.”

You actually want to hit him. Sersi was so much better at this than him. God, it was awful. But at least Steve has a hint of a smile on his face. 

Leaning against the doorway, the supersoldier comments, “Didn’t notice a car in the drive.”

The Eternal looks to you, then, oddly enough, at Vision, before he answers, “Taxi.”

“Right,” Steve nods, biting his tongue. “Well, thank you anyway. It’s… sort of a sensitive situation here, you know.”

“Of course,” Ikaris nods in earnest. “Happy to help, obviously. And,” he looks down at you. “If you ever need anything, just… give me a call, yeah?”

“Will do,” you smile before pushing up on your toes to wrap him into a hug. “And thank you again. Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.”

He hums in return before he bids you all a goodnight.

You count his steps down the porch and into the yard before - yup.

Steve turns to look at you, “Power of flight?”

Offering him a sheepish smile, you shrug, “Amongst… other things?”

“God, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I think I’ve got the full picture of you and then you just go and surprise me again.”

You push at his shoulder, eyes locked on his as a smile teases at your lips, “You think you know a girl…”

“I'm sorry,” Vision interrupts, as he looks back at the two of you from his seated position. “Were we not supposed to acknowledge his enhanced state?”

Steve looks down at you, and you up at him before you both start laughing.

Even from out here on the porch steps, you can still smell the lingering scent of onion in the air. Latkes had become a bit of a staple meal around the house as of late. The twins only had vague memories of their life prior to HYDRA and that organization wasn’t exactly well-known for their catering options.

Wanda had newfound aversions to deal with, but Pietro was less particular in his meals. As long as it was filling, he would typically eat it. But the young witch had many opinions about the food you served, and how it was prepared. And you weren’t exactly known for your cooking skills, nor was Steve for that matter.

Potato pancakes were easy enough to make, and opening a can of vegetables or applesauce for a side seemed to do the trick.

It’s just the four of you again. Steve had been called away for a recon mission alongside Clint and Natasha two days ago. Even in a house full of people, his absence was felt by all.

Tony had honestly been right when he said that you had basically created a strange little nuclear family in your home.

“Hey,” you smile gently as you take a seat near Pietro on the steps. From here, you can watch the lightning bugs dancing in the tall grass.

The stars are just beginning to peak out from the violet sky as Wanda walks through the swaying flower fields with Pallas on her shoulder.

Your smile wanes as you catch him wiping a quick fist across his running nose, eyes trimmed with red rings.

The urge to ask are you okay is overwhelming, but you know better by now. It had taken some work with Steve to get him to refrain from asking that question too often as well. Ever since Pietro’s fist had gone through the wall beside the staircase.

His desperate no, I am not fucking fine still echoed in your mind.

He’s pointedly avoiding your gaze, just a step down from you, as he rests his arms on his knees, his head is balanced on the crook of his right elbow as he gazes out at the blinking bugs.

His voice cracks as he asks with a sniff, “When will the Captain return?”

Glancing down at Pietro, you turn your eyes to the evening landscape. The wind is warm on this late-July night. It sweeps across the fields and forest canopy, a loving caress against your bare arms and legs.

“I’m not sure.”

Wanda giggles as Pallas takes flight, swooping around her alongside the lightning bugs. She claps her hands together once, holding them to her lips as she watches the owl soar.

“You know,” you begin, leaning toward the boy. “Sometimes, you two remind me of my siblings. A twin pair actually.”

He hums in return, eyes still cast upon the land.

“Wanda reminds me of my sister. Keeping to herself, finding companionship in, well, everything but people,” you smirk as Pallas returns to her, landing upon her right shoulder before he toes his way over to her left.

“And you… an Apollo in the making. Bright, charming, quick-witted. He would have liked you.”

Pietro’s head lifts, a curious arch to his brow.

“I miss them,” you relent. “Almost twenty years since I saw either of them, but the ache doesn’t disappear.”

He nods, lightly jostling his leg up and down.

“I…” he clears his throat, drums his fingers upon his knee, “I don’t remember much before… you know. But sometimes I get these… glimpses of them. Our rodičia. I don’t think she remembers as much. Just that night when the apartment was blown up and that missile was just sitting there - for two days, two nights. But I…” 

Pietro smiles. “I remember my mama’s hair; long, curling brown, blowing in the wind. White sheets hanging on a laundry line, shadows, a laugh. It all seems so far away at times.”

“You were young when you were taken.”

“Seven,” he nods. “We had been on the streets for two years when we were picked up. I can’t even remember my otec now. They… wiped it all away with their words, their machines, bastardi!”

You let the silence between you simmer for a moment, letting him ease his woes in the safety of your presence.

“I can’t even remember my own mother,” you admit in a broken whisper.

Pietro turns his head to look up at you.

“I thought people like you just… burst into existence.”

You give a hollow chuckle, “Not quite. She… she sacrificed herself to save me when I was very young.”

He blinks, lowering his gaze, “And… your father?”

Wrapping your hands into an enclosed fist, you let out a long breath.

“That’s… that’s another story entirely, Pietro. Me and the All-Father have a… complicated history in regards to certain things. At some moments, we were as close as can be and others… after Art and ‘Pollo left… well, don’t let me bore you with a Greek tragedy.”

His brow lifts, “Was that a joke?”

You shake your head, offering him a smile in return, “A hint of a pun, yes.”

He hums in return, leaning against the steps - his weight causing the old wood to creak - as he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. The warm evening wind rustles his stark white hair.

Steve returns on the 12th, several days past when he wants to be home. Things had gotten so tied up between the original mission and the HYDRA agent who ended up being an opening into an even bigger operation near the Mexican border.

He had heard mentions of Rumlow’s name on the wires and it felt like he had been running for nearly a week, chasing after another ghost.

The new compound along the Hudson was coming along. Tony was pleased to announce, when they landed the jet late last night, that the main housing unit for the team was completed - they were just waiting on the interior designer to drive up on Friday to finalize that last part of the process.

In the meantime, Tony had a folding camping table and deck chairs set up in the room he deemed their ‘war station… or whatever.’ So, Steve, Nat, and Clint spent three hours going through every last excruciating detail, followed up by marking known locations for both bases of operations and HYDRA agents for SHIELD to deal with.

By the time the sun was clipping the horizon, the supersoldier was in desperate need of a shower and a change of clothes. Luckily, the showers were set up and Tony had stocked the bathroom with exactly three towels. But that was more than Steve had been hoping for anyway, so he spent a long time soaking his aching muscles under the welcomed heat of the shower’s spray.

As he’s about to exit, he spots the billionaire with his feet kicked up on the folding table, a hand held to his forehead.

Tony peeks between his spread fingers as Steve draws near.

“The convenience of modern-day technology,” he sighs as a call comes through on his cell phone. He almost immediately swipes it over to the reject call button.

Steve lifts his brow in question.

“Well, ever since our little fuck up, I’ve had no less than seventeen daily calls between myself and Secretary Thaddeus Ross. If it’s not about dragging me in for a meeting or threatening to lock our asses up, he’s asking about Bruce’s location. Which, yeah, the man can go fuck himself in that sense.”

Resting his hands on his hips, the supersoldier shakes his head.

Things hadn’t eased up after Sokovia. He was starting to wonder if they ever would.

“But, that’s for me to deal with,” Tony shoves his feet onto the ground and stands with a groan before stretching his arms. “While you run and save the day, I’ll make sure the fridge stays stocked and your uniform doesn’t burst into flames or whatever it is I do exactly.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve looks down at the man with a genuine smile.

“Yeah, well,” he gabs, smacking the blonde on the arm as he passes him. “Say hi to the Missus for me, won’t you? And the kids. Those two adorable, rambunctious little tikes.”

Steve sighs, glancing up at the other man, “You’re never going to lay off that, are you?”

“Not until you plan on doing something about it. I’m all for the long game, but the betting pool is getting high, Rogers and Pep’s not gonna let me throw much more into that pot.”

Tony watches him as he goes through the doors to the recently paved driveway and parking lot. His bike remains under a protected shelter, clear of the elements with some fancy Stark Inudstries-branded cover over the motorcycle itself.

Throwing his go-bag under the seat and his shield over his shoulder, Steve mounts the seat and turns the ignition. The bike purrs under his hands.

The billionaire offers him a two-fingered salute as he pulls out onto the main road.

He just knew that he wanted to get home, back to you, in Vermont.

It still felt strange, to call that place home. Steve hadn’t had a proper place to call home since he was a kid in the 40s. He had a house in the Lower East Side, before the Battle of New York. And an apartment in D.C. during his time at SHIELD. But neither of those places felt like home.

They were adorned with his things; trinkets and items, that could remind him of a time and place far away from the 21st century. He had pictures of his friends, the Commandos. But even then, it was not a home.

But this, this strange cohabitation with the twins and Vision, and most importantly you? This is where Steve could truly say he felt at peace. It had been awkward at first, figuring out schedules and dealing with personal preferences, and hell, just being around two teenagers who were fresh out of HYDRA’s grasp.

And it wasn’t that his room on the third floor felt particularly like something he would style - though he had been able to switch out the lilac bedding and frills for things that were more his taste - the house just felt more homey than anything he had lived in after being recovered from the ice.

That was, in all honesty, probably due to you.

God, he was an idiot. Stark was right, he should be telling you or trying to tell you what he feels in his heart. But now it’s more of a challenge to get you alone as Wanda is usually glued to his side and Pietro to yours and it seems like there’s always a chance of Vision just floating through the walls to see what he’s up to.

But regardless of where he’s at in regards to admitting his deeply-held feelings, he’s anxious to get back to the house. To the place he’s easily calling home now, to anyone who asks.

And sure, Nat’s smirking when he says it and shooting glances at Barton, but he doesn’t care. This feels right. Deep in his bones, he knows it’s right.

And… maybe it's because he can forget about the world around him for a little while. Hidden off the grid, in an unmarked location. He can tune out the neverending news reports that call the Avengers the enemy, that demand retribution for their actions or inactions. 

The endless journalistic segments that detail over each member of the team and their past failings. Histories that had once been buried under government security software. They call into question their integrity, their ability to handle situations, to aid in peace-keeping.

When he’s at the house, he can just push that all away.

He can just… sit on the porch, close his eyes, and breathe.

Steve’s not exactly expecting a welcome party when he pulls up the drive, two hours later. So, it’s a bit surprising when Wanda is running up to him.

Her hair’s tied back in a large puffy bun and she’s got a black sheer duster on that billows up behind her as she rushes down the stairs. And Steve’s got a quick remark on the tip of his tongue as he kills the engine on the bike, but there’s a look in her eyes that makes him pull it back.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t - they, they just came. And they took her and - ” her voice quivers as she points helplessly at the neighboring line of trees, just beyond the pasture. “And you said to stay at the house if any- if anyone came and I - ”

“Whoa,” he eases, standing up from the bike, his hands coming down upon her forearms in a gentle hold. “Who took her?”

“I don’t, I don’t know! We were in the kitchen and we were talking about Strucker and there was a knock and I didn’t even think! She just, gah, bodaj ho!”

Steve’s eyes are immediately intense, scoping the lay of the land, looking for a sign of struggle.

And then, from the forest, he hears the distant cry of:

“No! I swear to - STOP IT, right now!”

He’s not even thinking as he takes off running. 

Your voice is clear as day even from such a great distance. Wanda is just behind him, several yards back. But from the porch, he can hear the confused voice of Pietro calling out to them both. And then the boy is right beside him -

“What? What is it?” he asks, keeping pace a little too easily with Steve.

But then you’re yelling again and the boy is gone in an instant and the supersoldier knows that he shouldn’t have let him go. Sure, you faced Ultron a few months back, but he was still a kid. And he was Steve’s responsibility.

“I swear to the All-Father if you even think for a second that I’m going to - ”

Steve’s pace slows as he enters a clearing. You glance up from the center of a group of women - one of them has a linen measuring tape held to your waist. The cross look upon your face immediately melts when you see him.

“Uh… hi,” you force a tight smile. “Uhm, Steve. You really shouldn’t - ”

But he’s already in front of you, keeping a wary eye on the women around you, “Are you okay? Wanda said - ”

“About that, I’m sorry. Uh… this is awkward.”

Turning to face the others, you ask, “Do you mind? You kind of dragged me off before I could really explain.”

A woman with rich brown skin shrugs. Her dark curls are haloed by a crown of pink and purple hyacinths.

“Just be back by dusk. You know how Di gets.”

And it’s really only now, as the two of you briefly converse, that Steve takes a second to look around at his surroundings.

The forest clearing has been swept clear of leaves and debris. Women are hanging lanterns from nearly every branch around this massive open space. And… yes, that tree is physically moving away from the center of the clearing.

Vision’s nearby, conversing with a man who has… goat legs. Apparently, the sentient being had been with you the entire time. Pietro’s standing off to the side, chatting with a blonde girl in a flowing white tunic when Wanda comes over the crest. Her eyes are just as wide as she takes in the scene.

“She’s fine,” Steve clarifies as she draws near.

“What is… this?”

The supersoldier shakes his head, “I honestly have no idea.”

There’s a canopy being set up by a handful of women now, with wooden tables placed underneath it. Almost immediately, items start appearing upon them; apples, breads and other baked goods, olives. So many olives.

Pallas lands on his shoulder just a second later, obviously sensing his confusion and slight distress from afar. He shoves his beak into Steve’s hair and the supersoldier’s quick to place a hand upon the owl’s head.

“Yeah, I hear you, buddy,” he breathes out.

When you finally break free, you saunter over to him with such a sense of awkward tension that Steve almost doesn’t recognize you beneath it.

“So…”

He blinks, looking out at the women before his gaze drops back to your face.

“What is happening right now?”

“Do you remember, last month, at your birthday dinner?”

He nods.

“When I told Tony that they don’t really… do that for me and Thor. And I said that I don’t have any real celebration associated with me?”

Steve nods again. Pallas pecks at the shell of his ear.

“Okay, well… that might have been a bit of a lie. This is… well, it’s uhm. It’s the last day of the Panathenaia. And my very unofficial birthday.”

He’s gawking, he knows he is, but he can’t seem to close his mouth.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I know,” you scrub a hand down your face. “It’s just… I’m not a fan of the pomp and circumstance anymore.”

“You…” he stumbles over his words as he helplessly blinks down at you, a new revelation bursting like a firework in his mind. “Are you telling me you actually have a birthday and that you’ve been keeping it a secret?”

“Well,” you shrug, crossing your arms as you both watch another three oak trees uproot themselves and begin walking further into the forest. 

“Not so much a lie as it was an omission of truth, right? I mean, last year? I was in France when it came around, no one to tell, no one to celebrate it with. The year before that? I was on Olympus. And before that, I was on Axariun III with my father. And well, before that we didn’t even know each other yet. So, all in all… not really me lying.”

“It feels like lying,” he clips, but a smile is playing at the corner of his lips.

“Fair enough,” you sigh.

Steve drums his fingers along the seam of his jeans as he turns, slowly, to take in all the preparations - if that was even the right word.

“So… the Panathea - ”

“Panathenaia,” you correct gently.

“That. What exactly does it entail?”

You grit your teeth, rubbing at your arms for a moment as you look over at the ever-growing table of food that seemed to be materializing out of nowhere.

“Uhm, drinking, dancing, general merry-making. The occasional athletic competition. They throw me in a peplos and offerings are made in my honor, and someone inevitably starts an orgy before the night’s over.”

Steve’s head whips around to look at you, but you’re not even phased by the words that have just left your mouth.

Right, he tries to remind himself. Greek mythology was literally your personal history.

“And this is the… set-up for it?”

“Yeah. Usually, I’m back home when the day comes around, but… well, extenuating circumstances this year kind of kept me Earth-bound.”

“Right,” he nods. “Yeah, that… that makes sense.”

You’re staring at him with slightly concerned eyes, so Steve forces a smile while his mind is honestly still reeling from the new bombshell.

“Want me to introduce you to everyone?”

Noticing the twins off to the side, now conversing with a handful of women - one of them is placing a white floral wreath on Wanda’s head, Steve merely nods.

“Lead the way,”  he holds out his hand in earnest. Pallas ruffles his feathers.

First, you introduce him to the Dryads. A group of women with varying shades of rust-colored hair and bark-like skin, who saunter out of the oak trees.

“They were just moving them to clear the area,” you explain.

Steve just responds with a polite nod, because yes, of course, that was completely normal and didn't phase him one bit. He had witnessed aliens from space. Wood nymphs shouldn’t be all that surprising to him.

This is followed by the Anthousai, a group of flower nymphs who are shorter than even Wanda, all of which are decorated with intricate crowns of blooms and blossoms. 

The woman you had been speaking to earlier is Euphrosyne. She offers the owl on Steve’s shoulder a polite pat on the head.

“My half-sister. Goddess of joy, mirth, and merriment.”

Followed by a doe-eyed red-head who is named Pannychis who you explain is the Goddess of all-night festivity. And Thalia, who is also your half-sister, and the one in charge of the festive celebration and the provision of a luxurious banquet.

“Uhm, this is my nephew, Comus.”

A young teen with strawberry-blonde curls blinks up at him from behind the edge of a golden cup.

“Son of Dionysus, quite infamous for his revelries, festivities, and general merry-making. Which, weren’t you supposed to be helping Euphrosyne plan?”

“Don’t tell her where I am,” The boy smirks before he dips away, grabbing another goblet from a table as he goes.

“And there’s still a few around here who are too busy to introduce just yet. But… yeah, that’s the beginning of this madness, really,” you pause, looking around with your hands upon your hips. And then you turn to look back at him, “I’m honestly so sorry to be dragging you into this. If you want to just hang back at the house tonight and try to ignore the noise, I completely understand.”

Steve leans against one of the posts keeping the canopy aloft. Pallas gnaws at his hair.

“Are you kidding me? Like I’m going to miss out on this?”

Your brows lift in surprise, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, of course. You’re one of the most important people in my life, Athena. If you want me here, I’m going to be here.”

“Ooh, taking one for the team, I see. Well, even if I can’t have everyone else here tonight, at least I’ll have one Avenger on my side.”

He laughs, “I mean, it’s not every day you get to experience an otherworldly festival steeped in antiquity.”

You stare at him for a long silent moment before you shove at his left arm. Steve lets you move him, a laugh startling out from his chest.

“Hey, you’re making me sound old!”

“Aren’t you a little, considering?” he gestures at the flowing tunics of your companions and relatives.

“Yeah, but… you don’t have to say it like that.”

Steve wraps his free arm around your shoulders, gently jostling you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you a little sensitive about the age thing? Cause, take it from someone who frequently gets the grandpa jokes. I just want you to know, that I’m never dropping this.”

“Come on, Rogers! It’s funny when we say it.”

He snorts, “No trouble dealing it out my way, but not as fun when it’s returned, is that it?”

“Well,” you pull away from his grasp, wrapping your hands around your arms as you turn away, an indignant clip to your voice. “You know what they say about ladies and their ages.”

Steve laughs, trailing after you before he can wrap his arms around your torso. A furious blush graces his face as you lean back into him, your head against his sternum.

“Don’t be like that. It’ll be fun, I promise,” he speaks into your hair.

Your right hand comes up and pats at his arm that’s resting across your chest.

“You say that now. Wait till you see the dress they put me in.”

A twitch of arousal sparks through his body and he quickly releases you from his hold, but he plays it off with a laugh.

“Honestly, I can’t wait.”

You smack his chest with your hand, “You’re the worst, Rogers. Please remember that. The worst.”

As you walk away to go and converse with your relatives, Steve shyly scratches the back of his head. 

He makes the unfortunate mistake of glancing over at the twins, who are both looking back at him with nearly identical smirks on their faces. Fantastic, as if he needed two teenagers on his case now as well.

Turning in the opposite direction, he makes it up the hill - back toward the house - when he extends his arm out for Pallas to move down on.

The tawny brown owl blinks up at Steve with his dark eyes and a curious tilt of his head.

“Hey, pal. If I gave you a message, do you think you could deliver it to a few friends for me?”

He squawks in return, almost as if sensing what the supersoldier has planned.

The fading orange hues of sunset are just barely visible through the gaps in the forest’s lush canopy. Steve smiles at your loyal companion as he swoops across the established party area before landing in a tree along the outskirts of the circle. Keeping watch like always.

People in flowing robes and tunics move through the space with such ease that Steve feels even more like an outlier than usual. The twins, and even Vision, are in attendance - at your insistence. Wanda’s hair is loose, adorned by that white floral wreath still. Her eyes are alight as she watches the strangers with unbridled excitement.

Even Pietro has a leaf-woven crown on as he tries to chat up another girl with long dark hair and amethyst eyes.

“Guys, this is my sister, Hebe,” you interrupt with a tight smile as you loop your arm through the girl’s - effectively pulling her away from the boy. “Hedylogos was looking for you.”

The girl’s cheeks blush into a full blossom of red as she quickly darts off toward the other end of the party.

You look down at Pietro before slapping his shoulder with a light hand, “Seriously? If I’m told you’re hitting on another one of my relatives, I swear I’m going to throw those shoes you like out.”

He balks, “You wouldn’t.”

Steve smirks, lowering his stance to speak to the teen, “I wouldn’t risk it, personally.”

Wanda snorts, looping her arm through her brother’s, “Come. I see food and drink.”

“Guys, don’t take anything in a gold goblet!” Steve calls out.

“Especially if a man in purple robes hands it to you!” You add with a laugh.

With a sigh, you turn back to look at the supersoldier. Steve’s already looking down at you with warmth in his gaze. It’s like witnessing a different side to you, free from the heaviness of battle. Right now, you were removed from the usual expectations put upon you and it was beautiful to see. How you moved between the party-goers, an easy smile on your face, and a laugh on your lips.

“This is nice,” he comments, looking around at the simple gathering.

You blink.

“You know it hasn’t actually started yet, right?”

And then you’re sipping red wine from a goblet encrusted with jewels and you’ve got a playful look on your face and Steve, for as out of place as he feels, just wants to kiss you right here and now.

He shoves his hands into his jean pockets instead.

“Is that right?”

“Come on!” you exclaim, “We’re Olympians, this is barely a family gathering. Wait till the man of the hour appears.”

Shaking his head with mirth, he asks, “I thought you were the one being celebrated here?”

“Oh, I am,” you reassure as you take another drink. “But, well, you’ve met my brother but you haven’t really seen him yet. You’ll… you’ll understand what I mean.”

Accepting that as answer enough, Steve gives a nod and takes a sip of his own wine as more and more people begin to appear in the clearing.

It would surprise him if SHIELD or some other government agency wasn’t picking up on all of the energy signatures materializing in this forest in the middle of Vermont. Slowly but surely, the dance floor and surrounding tables and benches are filled up by more and more patrons.

You introduce him to a four-armed woman with a golden crown. Her dark hair is adorned with a large white lotus blossom. She smiles sweetly at him as she converses with you in another language entirely. Steve watches the two of you as her companion, a swan, pokes around at his shoes.

When she leaves, you turn back to him with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, I keep abandoning you to go talk to everyone.”

Steve’s brow scrunches in confusion, “It’s your party, you shouldn’t expect to have me glued to your side the entire night. Go, I can hang out with the kids and Vision. I’m sure you haven’t seen some of your friends in a while.”

“No,” you sigh, encircling his wrist with your palm. “Having you beside me is the only thing keeping me from running off right now.”

Looking down at you with an aching expression, Steve slowly slips his hand free from your grasp, only to lock your fingers together.

“Okay,” he says.

Your worried brow softens, a smile teasing at your lips once again.

“I do miss them. I haven’t seen Sarasvati in ages, but… I prefer small gatherings over, well, this.”

He squeezes your hand, “I understand, trust me.”

As a sense of true peace settles around the two of you, you’re swiftly interrupted by the sound of hand drums beating out a melody.

“Ladies! Gentlemen! And gentle beings alike!”

Steve cranes his neck, and you stand upon your toes, as a shrill voice calls out from the center of the party.

“That’s Eupheme,” you whisper.

“I have the sole honor of presenting the Lord of Celebration himself. The Granter of Blessings, the Kind-Hearted Savior, the God of Wine, our dearest Dionysus!”

Several people cheer, others clap, and some even whoop in delight as a processional band from atop the ledge of the forest floor begins to play.

“Τοῦ Διὸς ὁ παῖς ὁ Βάκχος, ὁ λυσίφρων - ”

As the large swaying line of white-robbed people begins making their way down to the party, you lean up - clutching his shoulder - as you begin translating:

“The son of Zeus, Bacchus,” you whisper-sing into his ear. “The liberator of mind, the Lyaeos, the Lyaeos, the Lyaeos.”

“ὅταν εἰς φρένας τὰς ἐμάς εἰσέλθηι - ”

Steve can feel the warmth of your breath against the shell of his ear and the length of his neck. He grips your waist in his right hand as you continue translating.

“When he enters in our mind. By making it drunk, making it drunk, making it drunk - ”

“διδάσκει με, διδάσκει με, διδάσκει με χορεύειν.”

“He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance.”

The processional breaks through the space, a line of people and goats and musicians. Aloft a gold and purple cushion, held by four young men, sits your brother. A laurel wreath around his head as he raises his goblet at the many faces he spots in the crowd. He cheers your name as he passes, but you’re still there glued to Steve’s side. The melodic sound of your words against his ear is a heated delight.

“ἔχω δέ τι καὶ τερπνόν o, ὁ τᾶς μέθας ἐραστάς, ὁ τᾶς μέθας ἐραστάς,”

“And I the lover of drunkeness have, desire for satisfaction, desire for satisfaction.”

His fingers dig into the jut of your waist, pulling you impossibly tighter as everyone around you throws flower petals at the God of Wine.

“With beats and songs makes me happily as does Aphrodite, Aphrodite, Aphrodite. He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance. He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance. Again I want to dance, to dance - Oh!”

You’re pulled from his grasp by two women adored in ivy crowns. Giving a sheepish smile in his direction, Steve watches as you’re tugged into the center of the celebration.

As his heart eases back to a normal beat and the furious heat in his cheeks begins to lessen, the drummers begin beating upon their handheld instruments.

“My most beautiful friends!” Your brother cheers, his sloshing goblet held high above his head. “Tonight, on this blessed last night of Hekatombaiōn, I wish you all to welcome my lovely sister: the Champion of Olympus, the Beloved, the Wise, the Traveler Amongst Mortals, the Goddess Athena!”

Several loud whistles ring out across the forest as Steve joins in with the clapping. You’re shoved into your brother’s side, an unabashed smile on your face as you push back your hair.

“As the unofficial party master - ”

“Unofficial, seriously?” you ask with a laugh.

“I hereby declare that this Greater Panathenaia begins!”

As the crowd cheers in delight, the musicians belting out a jaunty tune, Steve watches as you shove at your brother’s arm before wrapping him up into a quick hug.

“You’re the worst, you know that right?” he can hear you ask.

The man shrugs, completely unbothered, “You’ll thank me later.”

“Wow.”

Steve turns his head, a smile immediately gracing his face as he spots Tony amongst the robe-clad patrons.

“I’m not gonna lie, I feel a little overdressed.”

He claps his hand in the supersoldier’s for a quick shake as the rest of the team slowly appears from behind him.

“Oh,” a sultry voice comes from beside Tony, a soft hand caressing his face. 

Steve’s brows rise.

“We can fix that,” the woman grins, a hand pulling at the billionaire’s arm as she begins to drag him away from Steve.

Tony chokes, “I mean, when I said that, actually, what I meant was - ”

Steve laughs, a deep belly rumble, as Stark helplessly looks back at him before he truly disappears somewhere into the roving group of partiers.

“We’re never letting him live this down,” Nat smirks, arms crossed as she watches the procession swoop you up into a dance number - you stuck in the middle as they circle around you. “Or Seven, for that matter.”

“Thanks for coming,” he says, his eyes never really traveling farther than you.

“Shame she tried to keep us out of the loop with it. Families though, they can be rough from what I’ve heard.”

He shrugs, taking a sip from his goblet. 

“Her’s don’t seem all that bad.”

Nat’s emerald eyes meet his in the lantern light and flickering flames, “You still haven’t met the old man yet, have you Rogers?”

With a twisted grin that seems to say it all, she takes Clint’s hand - he’s wide-eyed and his mouth is fully agape - and blends into the crowd.

Steve lets that thought simmer for just a moment in his head before he gulps down the rest of his wine and successfully pushes it to the back of his mind. Weaving through the other patrons, he spots the twins at a table under the canopy - talking to a group of Olympians who look around their age. But with godlike immortality, they could well be a thousand or so years older than Wanda and Pietro.

He smiles as the girl catches his eye, offering her a nod of reassurance before he moves on past the overflowing tables of what he now understands to be offerings.

You had explained it all rather quickly that afternoon to him. But he takes his time looking down at the array of items. Lots of olives still. But now he also spots wooden owl statues, pomegranates, oranges, feathers, small embroideries, and drawings. Hell, some of them looked like fan art the team regularly received, but with your image upon the crayon-dusted lines.

He accidentally bumps into the arm of a boy as a group of women crowds into the tent. Steve goes to apologize, but when the kid looks up at him, he feels rooted to the spot when he notices the rather large unfurled white wings on the youth’s back.

“Sorry, a bit of bad luck there, right? You must be one of those mortals my aunt’s always going on about. I’m Anteros. And you are… oh, wow. I see. Bit of a heart-on-the-sleeve type, yeah?”

As Steve goes to back away from the boy, the kid merely shakes out his bouncing dark curls and laughs. 

“You’re not used to that are you? Don’t worry,” he smiles as he nabs an apple from your offering table, taking a loud bite out of the fruit; juice dribbling down his chin. “She’ll get there eventually. I might not be part of the Fates, but I can see some things in that regard. Mmm,” he chuckles, chewing the white chunks with a slightly opened mouth. 

“Better stay away from my friend Pothos, or he’ll read you right down to the bone with all that energy going on in there.”

“Right,” is all Steve can say because he honestly has no idea what exactly has just happened, only that he feels very raw and vulnerable being next to this kid whose eyes are far too old for his youthful face and body.

As he exits the tent, he runs right into you. Oh, thank god.

“Hey,” you beam up at him with dazzling dark eyes. “Did I just see Hedona fitting Tony for a chiton? Also, when did they get here? How did they know?”

“Might have had help from Pallas…”

“Steve,” you beam.

But there must be a look on his face because your features fall.

“You okay?”

“Wha - yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry, there’s just a lot of relatives around and I feel a little… weird about meeting literal mythological legends. I think I just met your nephew possibly?”

You make a humming noise in your throat as you look over his shoulder, “Oh, Cronus. The Erotes. No wonder you look frazzled, Rogers. My deepest apologies. Stay away from the young boys with hearts in their eyes, okay? Menaces, all of them.”

And then you’re tugging on his arm, forcing Steve’s head closer to your lips.

“Come on, I’m trying to avoid the Charites for as long as possible.”

Words come to his lips like why and what, but they’re droned out by the raucous sound of music and inebriated party-goers.

Steve lets you lead him by the hand through the madness and joy. Swerving through dance circles and casual drinking groups, offering a word of thanks for attending the celebration and a surprising introduction on his behalf.

“Seshat! Thoth, so glad you could make it.”

You’ve just run into a woman with heavy kohl-lined eyes and a yellow animal print tunic. But beside her stands a man with a bird-like head and a long blue cowl. He’s only wearing a low-hanging robe around his waist. He tilts his head in a very bird-ish fashion as he looks down at the two of you.

“It’s been so long, my friend!” the woman beams, grasping your free hand in hers.

You hadn’t let go of Steve’s right hand yet. He’s trying his best not to feel smug about it.

He’s been introduced to the large and incredibly interesting friend group you had long been keeping to yourself. The supersoldier meets a man with a lion head, an Aztec or possibly Mayan deity (Steve couldn’t actually hear his name over the sound of the musicians striking up another song). As well as so many Olympians, he’s fully lost track.

But above all of the noise and splendor, he hears Clint start roaring with laughter. Trailing his eyes across the crowd, he immediately spots the source of his amusement. Tapping you on the shoulder, he stands back and watches.

You turn, the question of what is on your lips, but you immediately hold a hand to your mouth to keep from outright bursting into laughter.

“Okay, little more breezy than what I was expecting,” Tony admits as he draws closer to them.

“Wow, it’s… quite a look,” Steve attempts to restrain his own laughter.

Stark does a little spin, showcasing the simple red tunic with a single gold clasp at his left shoulder. The arc reactor glows a faint blue light from the center of the cloth, making him look both ancient and alien all at once. The hem of the garment is far above his knees, with the threat of showcasing more than Steve would ever wish to see just a sudden gust of wind away.

A camera clicks, followed by a flash, as Nat tucks away her phone.

“Very dashing. Watch out for breezes.”

“Eegh,” Tony groans, holding his hands to the hem of the fabric.

Steve’s so distracted by the strange display in front of him, that he’s failed to notice the woman you’re now talking with.

“I didn’t realize mortal men could be so dashing.”

“Surely you remember the likes of Perseus or Achilles.”

“Mhmm, but there’s something just... intriguing about these new ones. They don’t need you or the All-Father to be powerful, they just are on their own.”

His ears are burning as he tries not to interrupt your conversation, but then he feels your fingers slipping around his wrist, squeezing lightly against his pulse point.

“Sorry, I don’t think I had the chance to introduce you. Philophrosyne, this is my dearest friend, Steve Rogers.”

“Oh, pleasure’s all mine,” she smiles brightly. “But, I’m afraid I’m here for more nefarious means, apologies, sir.”

And then she’s got a hand on your forearm and she’s calling out, “SHE’S OVER HERE!”

Shooting Steve a helpless look, you whisper, “Save me,” before you’re dragged away by a group of smiling women.

He hears mention of a dress and Steve just chuckles, watching you go.

“You look divine, my lady,” one of the young girls says as she looks up at you with sheer delight.

“Thank you,” you respond with genuine gratitude.

While you had made a rather large fuss about the party and the dress and, well, everything to do with the celebrations, you did sort of enjoy it. Long ago, the Athenians had worshipped you in grand week-long festivals. It had been a point of pride and amusement for you as your temple was filled with offerings in your name.

Now, several millennia later, you found yourself, at times, nostalgic for those days. The concept of birthdays had never been a tradition amongst your people. But, as the decades drew on, some small mortal festivities became familiar on Olympus.

“It’s a very fine dress, indeed. I can see the love and hours spent upon it,” you remark with a wink.

Gazing before the standing mirror in your room, back at the house, you admire the sky blue peplos. The sleeves and waist are embellished with golden floral trim, with hints of purple thread that seem to shimmer against the soft blue linen. The sleeves are clasped by two golden pins, each of which is decorated with an owl’s head.

The loose fabric sways as you walk back across the pastures with your personal procession of weavers. Only, when you catch the strange silhouette against the moonlight, do you beg your companions for a moment of solitude.

Finding yourself following in the familiar footsteps left from a few months prior, you move to join Thor against the tall grass of the overlook.

“Ah, my Lady Athena,” he greets, beaming down at you. “‘Tis a fine garment.”

“Thank you. I had hoped to see you at the festivities this night, my friend.”

He chuckles. The loose strands of his hair flutter in the evening breeze, a warm stretch of summer night blanketing the sky with splatters of glistening stars.

“I can not intrude on such an event.”

Biting at your lip for just a moment, you nod, “Well, I suppose that would be true if you were not on the arm of the one being honored.”

His dark eyes gaze down at your offered arm for just a beat before his bellowing laugh echoes across the countryside.

When the two of you, and your procession, appear at the top of the hill leading down to the forest clearing, the musicians break off as your sister, of all people, takes the floor.

“My most gentle patrons, I wish for you all to now gaze your eyes upon the Daughter of Zeus, the Goddess… Athena.”

Giving a small giggle of anticipation, your hand grips Thor’s arm as you descend.

“My friends, family, and drunken guests!” you call out, receiving a chorus of laughter. “Tonight, I wish you all to welcome my honored guest with open arms as you would me. The Protector of the Nine Realms, the Wielder of Mjolnir, the Champion of Midgard, the God of Thunder, the Son of Odin, Thor.”

A few people clap, but you’re quick to add on:

“And if you refuse his presence, I’m going to have Dionysus throw out the good wine.”

“DON’T YOU DARE!” Comes the immediate and indignant shout of terror from your brother.

Soon, the partiers begin to laugh and cheer as the musicians pick back up with another song.

Thor leans down, kissing your cheek.

“Thank you for allowing me to grace your… humble celebration. Wait - ” His voice clips as he looks out over the crowd. “Is that… is that Bragi? I can’t be here but he damn well can?”

You give the God of Thunder a shrug, “To be fair, you have tried to kill or badly maim most people here, Odinson. You can’t expect them to not hold a grudge.”

“But… but…” he mutters, eyes shifting between you and his fellow Asgardian.

“And Bragi gets on well with a few of us, he’s always around for poetry readings and the every-other-decade book club meeting.”

His features pale, “You’re kidding me.”

“Wish I was,” you grin in return, lightly smacking his cheek with your hand. “Have fun. Don’t bed too many of my relatives. If they don’t try to slap you first, now that I think of it.”

You watch as he heads over to the bar filled with many of your brother’s finest spirits. With a smile on your face that seems incapable of fading, you make your way through the crowd in search of your other friends.

To your surprise, you find Steve locked into a conversation with both Sersi and Sprite - who remains in her natural form.

“ - yeah, no. We’ve known each other for… a while. Uhm, college roommates actually, in London.”

“Wow, really?” Steve asks, with a voice that clearly says that he’s not buying it, but his smile doesn’t really give him away and Sersi seems oblivious to his suspicion.

But as he goes to take a sip from his goblet, his eyes catch sight of you. And you can’t help it as you wrap your hands over your bare arms as you make your way over, feeling sheepish and strange in the garments of your kind.

“Whoa,” he says as he sets his goblet down. “You look… wow.”

“Hopefully that was a good wow?” you try to joke.

Sprite snorts, face in her goblet, “Obviously.”

“Hey! See you’ve met my friend from college and her… niece?”

Sersi nods quickly in return. Steve just turns his head, hiding his blossoming smile from her.

“Anyway!” she turns back, grabbing hold of your hands. “As is tradition, I have a gift for you!”

“Come on,” you begin to lament. “How many times do I need to say this: Sersi, my love, you do not need to get me anything. Your friendship is more than enough.”

“Just take the frog!” Sprite groans.

You flash the redhead a smile as Sersi shyly hands over a beautiful pale jade frog.

“Wow…” you murmur, cradling the fragile object in your hands. “This must be…”

“From the gift shop, yes,” the Eternal smiles tightly.

So it was very very old then.

The handicraft is exquisite, the jade is smooth and polished. Maybe… third century, around the Eastern Han dynasty, if you had to hazard an immediate guess?

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit, looking up at one of your oldest friends.

“Well,” she shrugs, chuckling. “Just say thanks. I managed to convince Kingo not to send a golden statute your way this year.”

“He almost went for an ice sculpture instead,” the redhead hums, eyes trained on one of the Erotes chatting nearby. Oh, not Himeros. Honestly, Sprite - have some decency.

“I’m sorry,” Tony butts in. “Are we referring to the Kingo? As in, the action movie superstar of the Indian subcontinent?”

You shrug, looking over at the billionaire, “What can I say? He was a friend from college.”

Tony balks for all of ten seconds before he snaps his mouth closed, “Well, since we’re doing gift-giving, which by the way, your royal highness - ” he steps closer to you, looking completely un-intimidating in his high-hem chiton.

“ - do you know how difficult it is to buy someone the perfect gift when they fail to mention that it’s their birthday and you have twenty minutes to be in the air?”

“Sorry?” you reply with a sheepish tone.

He clicks his tongue, “Yeah, well, your perfect gift is back at the house. Try to hold your thanks and just promise to show up for team training every now and then,”

Dipping away, toward the overflowing bar, you all watch him go. 

Sprite smirks, “I like him.”

“Don’t,” Sersi warns with little to no playfulness as she steers the younger-looking of the two of them away.

“No, yeah, I’m with Stark on this,” Clint perks up from his lounging position on one of the benches. Natasha sits beside him with his feet on her lap. “Are we just supposed to ignore your celebrity friend list or what?”

“I know one celebrity, okay?”

“And this? The plethora of pantheons? I’m pretty sure I saw Nike around here because I recognized her from her statue. That’s how insane this is. Speaking of, where’s the old man? Mr. Thunderbolt himself?”

You scoff, leaning back into Steve for invisible support.

“Clint, I’m from Olympus, this is basically a reunion. One in which, the All-Father will not be attending. Not as long as we’re on Earth.”

He lets out a low whistle as Natasha shoves his feet to the ground.

“Ignore him,” she says with a flicker of humor in her dark eyes. “And hey, happy birthday - ” you’re suddenly wrapped into a rare Widow hug, one that you accept all too eagerly as you wrap your arms around her shoulders. “How old are you, by the way?”

“Nooo, I’m not falling down that rabbit hole. Rogers already wants to start up Grandma Athena jokes. I’m good.”

The supersoldier chuckles, you can feel the heat of his breath on your shoulder.

“I’m just saying, they’re more fun to direct at someone else for a change.”

Natasha has a curious gaze in her eyes as she glances around at the other patrons, “I’m going to find out tonight no matter what. Might be easier to just tell me yourself.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” you tease, turning away to grab Steve by the hand as you disappear into the dance circle in the center of the party.

You don’t intend to stay there, in the middle of the dancers, but you’re almost landlocked by them. Unable to break free from their midst. Offering Steve a shrug and a laugh that can’t even be fully heard above the music, you begin to sway along with the others.

He remains still for just a moment, then a moment more, before he leans down to whisper-shout into your ear.

“You want to dance?”

With a nod, you lean up to reply, “I mean, it’s a party after all. Might as well.”

“I’m not really a dancer,” he laments with a flush of pink on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

You reach up, grabbing hold of the back of his neck to bring him down to your level. Fixing his eyes with a look, you say, “Neither am I.”

His laugh reaches your ears just as the musicians begin to play another number. A loud melody followed by several dancers clapping to the beat. Grabbing hold of both of your hands, Steve spins you around in a dizzying circle before you’re drawn back to him.

With an infectious smile upon your face, you let him lead you in a small space left only to the two of you as the rest of the dancers move and spin around you both.

One of his hands drops down to your waist, while the other dangles over your opposite shoulder as you move in closer - drawn into each other’s orbit like the Earth and the ever-present Moon. Resting a hand on his left shoulder, your fingers tickle the small hairs at the back of his neck as your other hand moves to his waist.

You sway to the beat of the music and ringing laughter and overall drunkenness as the world simmers down to just the two of you, dancing together, moving as one.

Steve looks nearly predatory with his gaze fixed upon your face, his blue eyes a distant memory as the darkness of his pupils takes hold. In his irises, you can see the dancing flames of the lantern lights and the reflection of your own face. Feeling too close, too hot, too much, you pull back.

Tugging on his left hand, you move yourself into a spin - one that Steve finishes with a laugh as you dip away from him before being drawn back in. He seems to take the hint as he leaves your right hands joined together, with his left situated loosely on your hip.

The hand drums batter away as a chorus melody begins. The pace is fast as feet go flying on the ground, hands clapping together in the air.

“Can’t dance, honestly,” Steve snarks as he spins you around once again.

You love the feeling of the sudden rush of summer breeze as it makes the bottom of your dress billow up. Sweat is dripping down your neck from the closeness of the crowd.

With a smile in return, you remark, “Says the man keeping to the beat.”

He shrugs, dipping you nearly backward before dragging you back up to his side, “I mean, I was no dance hall expert.”

“I don’t believe that,” you laugh, as you twist around him, returning on his right side.

“It’s true,” he says with a softened tone. “I would have had to get a girl to dance with me.”

“Oh, Steve,” you pucker, allowing him to pull you in closer than before, your bodies almost touching - the heat between you is electric. “Well, you have one now and she thinks you’re doing a great job.”

“Is that right?” he grins, his hand moving from your hip to your lower back as you’re drawn in flush against him.

Resting a hand on his shoulder, you nod.

“Class act, really.”

You can feel the light graze of his lips on the top of your head, then another press near your temple, and then one to your forehead.

Maybe that Olympian wine was finally affecting him after all.

When you pull back, his face is flushed and his gaze is unbelievably intense. But it’s the sight over his shoulder that has you frozen.

“Oh my god,” you groan, using the human terminology for the first time.

“What?” he questions, still oblivious.

Pushing on his right shoulder, you have him turning just enough to see -

“Oh, wow.”

“You didn’t tell me Sam was here,” you complain.

“He wandered off before I got the chance to,” he chuckles.

“Good thing her husband isn’t here, or we’d be scraping up bits of him for the next month.”

Steve shudders at the imagery.

It wasn’t every day Aphrodite went searching for other companions. Considering she still held a flame for Ares and was married to Hephaestus. But this? This had to be crossing some lines even for a drunken festival.

The man has a hand in her hair - blonde, you note - and their lips haven’t fully disconnected since you first spotted them. She’s got a hand on his chest, as she leans further and further into him.

“Well,” you proclaim. “I’ve officially lost any appetite I might have had. No offense to Sam, of course.”

“I don’t know,” Steve shakes his head. “I think it’s mostly him.”

With a sudden burst of giggles, you grab hold of Steve’s right wrist and proceed to tug him away from the dance circle - far away from the line of sight of an Avenger trying to get it on with your sister.

Pulling your hair back and over your shoulder, you shake your head once again. 

“At my party, of all places. Honestly.”

Steve wanders alongside you, careful of the forest floor as you dip away from the main festivities.

“Give a man enough wine…” 

Looking over your shoulder at him, you remark, “Seems like you might have had a bit yourself, Rogers.”

With a shrug, his eyes flash up to meet your gaze.

“I had two glasses, that’s hardly anything.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you tease. “Dionysus’ spirits are said to be even stronger than Asgardian liquor. I’d be careful if I was you.”

Resting against the cool bark of a tree, you blow upward at the loose strands of your hair that are sticking to your warm forehead. The early August heat was doing nothing for your sweaty skin and rapidly beating heart.

You’re halfway up the hill and you’re able to look upon the entire party from here. With Sam and your sister out of sight, you manage to spot Tony sitting on top of the bar - loudly proclaiming some outrageous story to a group of Olympians. Natasha, one of the few redheads in the crowd, is spotted a moment later, weaving her way through your relatives with disturbing ease. Clint, is in the middle of the dance floor, jumping up and down to the song.

Pietro has cornered another one of the Muses. He’s leaning against the post of the canopy, speaking into her hair. Wanda is surrounded by some of the Anthousai who all seem to be crafting new floral wreaths together. Thor is actively armwrestling Agon and you knew that was likely to go on all night. The god of competition would not be easily swayed by a possible defeat.

Steve is a few feet away from you, a little lower on the hill, as he too watches on. The paper in your pocket tempts your hands once again. 

You had been toying with it back at the tower before Sokovia. Hell, you had been contemplating it since 2014, when SHIELD was falling and you were technically considered dead for almost 48 hours.

A hand taps at your left shoulder and you completely startle.

“Cronus! You ass! You can’t do that!” you shriek as you slap Hermes' shoulder repeatedly.

Steve looks on edge while your brother merely tilts his head back and laughs.

To be fair, the last time the supersoldier had been in the same room with your brother, he hadn’t been an entirely charming force to be held.

“Oh, come on. Too easy,” he beams.

“Those damn sandals,” you grumble - staring down at the winged footwear that allowed him such stealth-like advantages.

“You love them,” he retorts, flashing his ankle as he tilts them for you to see. “I see you’re having fun.” Hermes lifts his gaze, nodding, “Captain Rogers.”

Steve offers a nod in return, his hands situated on his belt.

“I trust that my gift was helpful,” he gestures at the chain of your pendant.

Pulling the locket free from the peplos, you admire the silver jewelry, “I thought it was a gift from the Fates.”

“Deliverer of gifts then. Speaking of - ”

You watch with widened eyes as a golden halo of light appears from the heavens - three packages floating down into his waiting hands.

“Father sends his well wishes, of course.”

Taking the first box from him - a tiny thing, about the size of the palm of your hand - you lift the cover off.

“Oh my gosh,” you murmur as you stare down at the dazzling blue gems.

Hermes snorts, “I’m sure you know the meaning.”

With a nod, you carefully pull the first earring free.

A teardrop lapis lazuli with a golden clutch.

Looking back at him, you remark, “They’re stunning.”

He says nothing as he hands over the second package done up in purple wrapping.

From within, you retrieve an intricately beaded diadem. The peacock colors are entwined with gold latticework. It’s so delicate in your hand, that you barely even want to pull it free. But then you’re looking down at your companion, calling out a simple:

“Steve?”

The supersoldier, with a wary eye, takes a step up, then another. He’s standing directly in front of you as you offer him up the tiara. With a gentle look upon his face, he carefully lifts the diadem, rotating it around, before situating it carefully on the crown of your head.

With a whistle, he steps back.

“Hera always goes overboard with this one,” Hermes comments in Steve’s direction. “Athena’s about the only one she can stand.”

“Not true,” you murmur.

He blinks, “Seriously? We want to walk down that path?”

With a slow shake of your head - no reason to ruin a perfectly nice night - your brother’s smile slips free as he hands over the last package.

It’s a scroll, wrapped in on itself with a simple white ribbon.

“Careful now,” he comments. “That’s an antique.”

With a cautious eye trained upon your brother, you begin to unfurl the paper. The first glance at the contents has you rolling it back up as you snap, “Did you steal this?”

Holding up defensive hands, he grins, “I might be the God of Thieves, dear sister, but this came from a friend of ours. A certain… woman who puts even my speed to shame.”

You gape.

“She didn’t.”

He beams, “I think we both know she did.”

Turning it slightly for Steve to look at, you unfurl the map once again, “This is the Ebstorf Map.”

The paper extends out, further and further to the point that both men have to hold onto a portion of the map.

“It was created in the mid-13th century by a group of nuns living in modern-day Germany. This was said to have been destroyed in 1943, during the bombing of Hanover. This shouldn’t... oh, that clever woman.”

If anyone in your known circle could have gotten this to safety and kept it perfectly preserved, it would have been Makkari.

Steve’s eyes rove across the intricate work, an artist’s soul soaking up a historical artifact. One that probably shouldn’t be held by physical hands, now that you think of it. Carefully folding it back up and rolling it together, you push it over into Steve’s capable hands as you latch yourself around your brother.

“Thank you! And tell her thank you as well. Cronus, I should get her something in return. Wait a minute.”

You vanish from the forest before either man can utter a single word, appearing deep within the basement of the house. Well, it was listed as a basement, it was more like a museum storage facility, in all honesty.

Makkari might have her own collection on the Domo, but yours was equally impressive. Both between your home in Vermont and your temple back on Olympus. It only takes you a moment to find what you’re looking for - the perfect thing for her never-ending collection - before you reappear.

The two men look up, apparently caught in the middle of a conversation. Steve coughs, taking a step away, as you glance over at him. With a shake of your head, you speak to your brother.

“This isn’t much, but my gratitude can not be understated. Her gift was incredible.”

Hermes eyes you as you attempt to hand over the tablet.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Come on,” you groan. “You know it’ll be safe in her hands.”

With a half-hearted sigh, he takes the emerald tablet from your hands. Oh, she would be wild about it, you just knew it.

“I’ll see that it gets to her with signs of thanks.”

“I appreciate it,” you smile.

Steve helps you get everything back to the house. After rounding up the twins and Vision, the two of you escort your household members back inside. The teens, obviously, were all too willing to stay up late into the morning hours, but you cut them off around 2 AM. And you insisted that he return as well.

Considering the fact that he had just returned from a mission and hadn’t received any proper sleep in nearly 72 hours, he didn’t press too hard about staying back with you to enjoy the festivities.

“Trust me, they’ll only be getting drunker and louder as the night wears on. I can only tolerate so much.”

After Wanda and Pietro head up for the night and Vision disappears to the library down the hall where he had been spending most of his time these past two months, you collapse into a kitchen chair.

Steve lowers himself into the adjoining seat, looking out at the spread of gifts from your closest friends and relatives.

As you pull the diadem from your head, you rub at your tired face - your cheeks puffing up in a slightly adorable fashion.

Laid before him sits a pink bottle with a sea shell emblem, a golden hilt, and a silver dagger. In a very ornate clay vase sits a combination of flowers. You had told him their names, but he can’t recall them now. One has white petals and a yellow center and the others are simple six-petaled white flowers.

From an opened bag on the table, you reach in and begin peeling a mandarin orange for yourself. The sweet citrus scent wafts around him in the hot kitchen - the summer breeze from the open window does nothing to cool the room.

Steve gazes down at the two additional pieces of jewelry you were now adorned with. A golden snake-shaped ring on your left index finger and a dark green jade bracelet on your right wrist.

What’s completely confusing him, however, is the glass in the middle of the table.

Clearing his throat, he finally asks, “What’s with the water?”

You arch a brow as you take another bite of your orange, a dribble of juice sits at the corner of your lips. Your eyes travel to the glass before you swallow your bite.

“My uncle, I’m guessing.”

He nods, but you don’t seem interested in elaborating.

“Is it… special?”

“Steve,” you blink. “It’s water.”

And then you dip your pinky into the glass before bringing the soaked digit up to your lips to suck.

“I’m sorry, salt water.”

“Just… salt water?”

With a snort, you drop the peel on the table and lean back in your seat, arms crossed.

“You’re still not versed on my mythos, after all this time?”

He shrugs, mirroring your position.

“I’d rather hear it from you, honestly. No book can tell me your truth.”

A look settles over your face, one that he thinks is reading as pleased, but he’s a little out of sorts since the third goblet of wine.

“Let’s just say,” you ease. “We don’t get on very well. He was likely required to get me something, but he chose to do so in his own way.”

With a shake of your head, you stand up and pour the glass into the sink.

You stare out the window, at the glowing lights dancing in the center of the forest. Even from a distance, you can both likely make out the continued party down the hill.

After a moment, Steve says, “It’s more than what I got you.”

You turn, fixing him with a gentle look, “Your friendship will be the only thing I ever ask from you. Always, Rogers. No… piece of jewelry or $400 jacket - ” you point at the unwrapped box on the counter; Tony’s gift, “ - will ever be required of you. Just… you. You are enough for me.”

He can’t help it. Standing up and pushing away from the chair, Steve circles your left wrist with his hand as he pulls you in - slowly, gently - to a hug. He can feel the contend sigh you let out against his sternum as you bury your face into his chest. His arms circle your back, fingers tangling into the ends of your hair.

You both stand like that for minutes - though it could be hours with how truly at peace he feels - when, at last, you pull back. There’s a sheepish expression greeting him as you run your palms down the length of your sky-blue dress.

“Bucking tradition, I actually have something for you.”

He groans, closing his eyes, “Now I’m seriously feeling guilty over not giving you a present.”

“Come on,” you beg. “Open.”

When he blinks his eyes back open, he glances down at your extended palms. There in the center of the cupped pair, sits a scrap of paper.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he picks it up and examines the faded brown parchment. Turning it over with his fingers, Steve nearly stumbles.

Because he knows this paper.

He can barely hear your words above the thundering of his beating heart.

“I know, just, okay. So, this has been on my mind for a while now. Basically, this is going to be your link to me now. Whether I’m… across the ocean, or in another dimensional plane. Ever since Russia and honestly, now that we’re going on separate missions with the team, I just… basically - ”

Your fingers smooth over the parchment, landing on the owl constellation marked with ink.

“Long ago, there was a constellation in Pallas’ image. My constellation really. If there ever comes a time when you need me and can not reach me the normal way, I want you to push down on this, like - ” your fingers press into what would be the stomach of the bird, “ - and you’ll get Pallas, who will get me.”

As if on command, the owl swoops up to the window sill, pecking at the glass before you move to let him in. He lands on Steve’s shoulder, gnawing at his hair.

But the supersoldier can’t move, can’t even speak as he stares down at that imagery.

“Hey, I know it’s kind of - ”

He just shakes his head.

“I know this. I’ve seen it before… in my compass.”

You tilt your head, a curious pinch to your brows, “What are you talking about?”

Letting out a breath as he lowers his hands, the paper clenched with his right fist, he explains, “That day that we thought Loki might have been… with the scepter? After New York?”

You nod, after a beat, in understanding.

“You’re saying… you saw this, in the compass? The compass that wasn’t yours.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, feeling the weight of something he can’t even process expel from his chest. “I don’t know how. I just… I remember this being in there.”

Your hands encircle his forearms as you stare up at him.

“There are some things in this universe, that even I can’t explain. Maybe… one day it will make sense. But, I think I’d like to believe that you should hold onto this for maybe more reasons than I originally intended.”

Steve gives a sharp nod, a weird catch in his throat as he says, “Yeah.”

“You’re not going to be far, are you?”

Turning back around, a box in your hands, you shake your head. Pietro looks back at you from the open doorway to his room.

“No, I promised you both that we’d be close by while you get adjusted. I’m two down on the right, and Steve’s one past that. You guys are going to be just fine. Hell, even Vision has a place set up at the end of the hall.”

It had been a strange two weeks, moving everything over to the newly minted Compound.

The twins had their own fears over the move. Pietro had come to enjoy the space at the house in Vermont, the freedom he felt he had with just four other occupants. Now, this place felt a little more… official, and scientific. Tony had a whole section set up for research and development outside of his own personal labs. There were people coming and going nearly all day and night.

Though the private apartments were away from those areas, just looking out the windows would allow you see to the endless flow of people.

Luckily, you managed to lock down a separate corridor near the back of the building, on a lower floor too.

Wanda didn’t like windows. Well, she liked having some windows. But floor-to-ceiling ones made her anxious, and jumpy. She didn’t feel fully protected with them. Tony was all too understanding at your request.

That’s how you found yourselves occupying a hall mostly to yourselves.

Clint and Natasha were in the west wing of the building. Thor and Bruce had designated rooms on the north side of the apartments - though neither room was currently occupied.

Dropping the box off at Wanda’s room, you wipe your hands clean.

You knew it was going to take time for them both to feel comfortable and to adjust to their new living arrangements. But they seemed to understand that this was going to be the safest place for them to be for now.

Even though Tony never went into detail, you understood that the situation outside of the Compound was still… tense, to put it lightly.

Steve glances back at you. He’s on a ladder, helping Wanda arrange her mood lights above her bed.

Sometimes, you wonder exactly where you had been heading all those years ago. The anti-team mindset and your avoidance of people in general. Yet, here you are.

Leaning against the open doorframe, you watch as the pair interact together in hushed tones and soft laughs.

No, you could have never imagined this life for yourself. Not only were you going to have a room here, but you made up your mind that you would in fact be living here, on a semi-permanent basis. No more running back to Olympus at every chance.

You were part of a team now. These were your people, your friends, your pseudo-family.

At the vibration in your pocket, you pull your phone free.

Scoffing at the message - grannie, seriously - you call out, “Hey! Tony says he’s got a free hour if you two wanna head down to do a consult on those uniforms he mentioned.”

Wanda whips around, a look of equal trepidation and excitement mixing together on her face.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I recommend going. Otherwise, he might try and put some armor in there in red and gold tones.”

She makes a face, causing you to chuckle as she waves goodbye to Steve. Running off in search of her brother.

“Kids these days,” you comment for the supersoldier to hear as they both zip past you a moment later. “They grow up so fast.”

He just laughs in return as he folds up the ladder and places it along the wall. She still wanted some kind of canopy hung up above her bed, so you imagined he might have his hands full later.

“So, how are we looking?” he asks as you both head down the hallway toward the main living space.

“Well, it’s not the ‘27 Yankees, but I think we have some hitters.”

Steve snorts as you push through the next set of doors, side by side, striding together through the halls.

“They’re good. We’ll make them into a team.”

You share a smirk with the supersoldier as you make it to the newly finished gym, pausing at the doors as you say, “Let’s beat them into shape.”

With two of your biggest allies out of the picture - hopefully, temporarily - you were faced with the joint decision to mold the newest members into a proper fighting force. Ultron may have had doubts about your ability to come together and work as one, the media might still be feeding those very same doubts to the public, but you were dedicated to proving them all wrong.

Steve enters the gym with an assured look gracing his face. With a nod, the two of you get to work.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Author's Note: Oh my god, not Stethena pseudo-adopting the twins, am I right?

Anyway, here's some importantish notes from this particular chapter that might be of interest to a few people.

Translations: - rodičia: parents - otec: father - bastardi: bastards - bodaj ho: damn it

Clothing: - Chiton (image) - Peplos (image)

Gifts: - Lapis Lazuli earrings from Zeus - A peacock beaded diadem from Hera - A map from Hermes - Perfume from Aphrodite - A dagger and golden hilt from Hephaestus - A clay vase from Hestia - Narcissus flowers from Persephone - Asphodel flowers from Hades - Mandarin oranges from Demeter - A gold snake ring from Asclepius - A jade bracelet from Dionysus - A glass of salt water from Poseidon

The Guest List:

Fauns: half-human, half-goat creatures

Euphrosyne: goddess of good cheer, joy, mirth, and merriment

Dryades: tree and forest nymphs

Anthousai: flower nymphs

Pannychis: goddess of all-night festivity

Thalia: goddess of festive celebrations and luxurious banquets

Comus: god of revelry, merrymaking, and festivity; Athena’s nephew through Dionysus

Hebe: cupbearer of the Olympians; Athena’s half-sister through Zeus and Hera

Hedylogos: one of the Erotes, god of sweet talk and flattery

Sarasvati: Hindu goddess of art, knowledge, music, speech, and learning

Eupheme: goddess of words of good omen, acclamation, praise, applause, and shouts of triumph

Dionysus

Hedone: goddess of pleasure, enjoyment, and delight

Anteros: one of the Erotes, god of requited love; Athena’s nephew through Aphrodite and Ares

Pothos: one of the Erotes, god of sexual longing, yearning, and desire

Seshat: Egyptian goddess of wisdom, knowledge, inventory of writing, consort of Thoth

Thoth: Egyptian god of wisdom, knowledge, writing, magic, science, art

Apedemak: African lion-headed god of war

Mixcoatl: Aztec god of battle, hunting, civilization, and stars

Philophrosyne: goddess of friendliness, kindness, and welcome

Aphrodite

Bragi: Norse god of poetry

Sersi

Sprite

Himeros: one of the Erotes, god of sexual desire

Agon: god of contest

Hermes

Other guests in attendance:

Adephagia: goddess of satiety and gluttony

Agele: goddess of radiant good health

Aglaea: one of the Charites, goddess of beauty, adornment, splendor, and joy

Aike: goddess of prowess and courage

Ame-no-Uzume: Japanese goddess of dawn, meditation, and the arts

Angelia: goddess of messages, tidings, and proclamations

Antheia: one of the Charites, goddess of flowers and wreaths 

Apollonis: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Arete: goddess of virtue, excellence, goodness, and valor

Aristaeus: god of bee-keeping, cheese-making, and olive-growing; Athena’s nephew through Apollo

Bait Pandi: Filipino (Bagobo) goddess of weaving

Borysthenis: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Caerus: god of opportunity

Calliope: muse of epic poetry

Cathubodua: Celtic goddess of war and battle

Cephisso: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Clio: muse of history

Dikaiosyne: goddess of justice and righteousness; Athena’s half-sister through Zeus

Eirene: goddess of peace; half-sister through Zeus

Ekecheiria: goddess of truce, armistice, and cessation of hostilities

Eleos: goddess of mercy, pity, and compassion

Eleutheria: goddess of liberty

Elpis: goddess of hope and expectation

Eros: one of the Erotes, god of love and sex; Athena’s nephew through Aphrodite and Ares

Erato: muse of lyric poetry

Eucleia: goddess of good repute and glory

Eupraxia: goddess of well-being

Euterpe: muse of musical poetry

Gamayun: Slavic goddess of knowledge and wisdom

Gelos: god of laughter

Harmonia: goddess of harmony and concord; Athena’s niece through Ares and Aphrodite

Heimarmene: goddess of shared fate/destiny

Helios: god of the Sun and guardian of oaths

Hermaphroditus: one of the Erotes, god of unions, androgyny, marriage, and sex; Athena’s nephew through Hermes and Aphrodite

Himeros: one of the Erotes, god of sexual desire

Horme: goddess of impulse or effort, eagerness, starting an action

Iris: goddess of the rainbow and divine messenger

Nike: goddess of victory

Pasithea: one of the Charites, goddess of rest and relaxation

Philotes: goddess of friendship, affection, and sex

Polyhymnia: muse of sacred poetry

Polymatheia: muse of knowledge

Tekhne: goddess of art, craft, and technical skill

Terpsichore: muse of dance and choral poetry

Theros: youth god of summer

Okay, so while I have had so much fun writing the last few chapters in this arc and connecting lots of moments together into this big finale, I'm gonna need a bit of time before I move on to tackle the Civil War arc. I need to perfect the plot just so and make sure I have all of my loose ends wrapped up before we delve into that realm just yet.

So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for those of you who have kept up with the story and have been reblogging and commenting on it. It's honestly keeping my passion for this story going. So, thank you again, and hopefully I'll see you soon with the next installment :)

[agentmarcuspike]

"a promise softly sung"

synopsis: pre-outbreak. sarah skins her knee. joel overreacts. uncle tommy fixes w/c: ~ 950 tws: mentions of blood, hit and run (everyone lives), mentions of imagined injuries, joel sings. but otherwise this is mostly fluff and love! a/n: this has been in my drafts since august (!) and i just never felt confident enough in it to post. based on the johnny cash song "rose of my heart" and also these stills of their bike helmets taken from the game. based on show!joel, because he's a bigger softie than game!joel, who'd probably tell sarah to "walk it off" if she broke her foot.

It happens so quickly.

One second Sarah is flying down the street on her bike, clutching the tassel-covered handles, barely containing gleeful squeals, with no support wheels, no Daddy holding the rear. The next second she’s veering into a ditch to avoid the oncoming car.

Joel barely has time to blink. He doesn’t have time to think, but his instinct sends him running, even though he knows it’s too late to catch her. 

She cries out before he can reach her, the scream dissonant with the sound of screeching wheels against asphalt as the guilty driver floors it and speeds off.

The temptation to run after and kill the guy is overtaken by his daughter’s soft sobs.

“Sarah!” His hands are on her in an instant, cupping her face. His thumb rubs soothing circles on her cheekbone before looking her over. “Are you okay? Sarah, look at me.”

Her breath hitches, and his heart does the same. No bones in weird angles, no spurting blood, just a skinned knee. Helmet still intact. But it’s not enough for Joel. She could have internal bleedings, she could be slowly dying of a ruptured spleen.

Trying his best not to make any potential injuries worse, he shovels her up into his arms, and speedwalks the remaining quarter mile left to Tommy’s. 

“Tommy!” Joel bellows before he’s reached the end of his brother’s driveway, and Tommy sticks his head out the door, eyes squinting, brows furrowed. His demeanor changes immediately when he spots his brother with his niece in his arms.

“Shit,” Tommy swears under his breath as he holds the door open, letting Joel in before him.

He makes his way to his brother’s kitchen, Tommy grabbing his phone on the way, ready to dial 911, as he quickly follows. Joel puts Sarah down on Tommy’s kitchen table.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” he yells, already opening kitchen cabinets. 

“Joel–,” Tommy starts, but he’s cut short by Joel slamming a drawer shut. 

“Why the fuck don’t you have a first aid kit in the kitchen, Tommy?”

“It’s in the bathroom, but Joel–” 

But Joel’s already out of the room, rummaging through the bathroom drawers. He finds Tommy’s way too small first aid kit, grabs a towel without knowing what for, and makes his way back to the kitchen, where he stops in his tracks. 

Sarah. She’s… laughing?

He peeks around the corner into the kitchen, where Sarah sits perched on the table, her uncle kneeling in front of her, blowing raspberries on her foot. A sigh of relief escapes him. His heart makes its way back into his chest, and he rests a hand on his ribs to feel it, leaning on the doorway.

“You gave me a big fudging scare there, baby,” he admits, making his way back to the pair. 

Tommy shakes his head. “Jesus, Joel. It’s just a skinned knee.” He grabs the first aid kit from his big brother’s hand, cleaning and bandaging the scrape on his niece’s leg while she rubs her teary eyes with a tiny fist.

Joel huffs. He drums his fingers against his thigh impatiently, looking around to avoid seeing his brother fix up his daughter. Relief, but also shame, is spreading through his body as he makes his way into the kitchen. Ashamed he couldn’t stop it from happening, and from letting his panic and paranoia get the best of him. Relieved his baby girl is fine, and that his brother managed to remain calm. He’d never say the latter out loud though, he thinks, downing a glass of water before refilling it and bringing it over to Sarah.

When he returns, Sarah is on her feet, dramatically reenacting her collision for Tommy. He gasps dramatically at her expressive performance, sound effects included, but shoots Joel a look for confirmation. He nods back, and Tommy shakes his head. One thing the two of them silently agree on: they hope the damn speeder crashes and burns. 

“How’s the little patient doing?” 

“Good.”

Joel sits carefully on the edge of his daughter’s bed, who is comfortably tucked in, yawning, and fighting to keep her eyes open for a few more minutes. He brushes a stray piece of her out of her tired face.

“You scared me today, baby.” His breath hitches a bit as he sighs, warming her hand with his. 

“Sorry…” she whispers, looking away. 

He shakes his head and lowers himself to meet her shameful gaze. 

“S’not your fault. Not at all.” Joel leans down to kiss his daughter’s forehead.

“Daddy?” she whispers, as he sits back up.

“Yeah, honey?” 

“Can you sing the song?” 

Joel’s brow furrows as he thinks for a second. “What song?” 

“The one you sang when I was a baby.” 

A smile spreads on his face at that. He waves his hand for her to scoot further in on her bed, and he lays down next to her. “Daddy’s big girl feeling like a little girl again tonight?” Sarah rests her head on his shoulder as he carefully pulls her close. She doesn’t answer, just nods her head against his chest. 

“S’okay,” he murmurs, into her hair, rough palm moving up and down her small back as he breathes her in. “‘You’ll always be my babygirl, no matter how old you get.” 

Joel sinks back into the pink frilly pillows as Sarah’s breathing slows, and he sings their song over and over, even as she begins to snore softly:

“We’re the best partners this world’s ever seen Together we’re close as can be But sometimes it’s hard to find time in between To tell you what you mean to me You are the rose of my heart You are the love of my life A flower not faded nor falling apart If you’re tired, rest your head on my arm Rose of my heart”

dividers by @saradika and @inklore title is from the song "butchered tongue" by hozier

[mysicklove-main]

𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄

Parings: Dabi x Nurse! Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Stalker-ish elements, Injuries, Talk of violent acts, Heavily suggestive comments. NON-CANON. Gn! Reader

Summary: The villain patient that can't seem to get out of poor Y/Ns head.

“But Nurse Y/N, my hands are all chained up. How am I supposed to eat? C'mon be a doll, and help a guy out,” Dabi purrs, and you roll your eyes. Ever since the new, very much villain, patient has checked in; he has been determined to take up all of your time. 

Your time desperately needed being a sought-out nurse. You haven’t told Dabi yet, cautiously staying a distance away from him, but with your touch, you provide natural pain relief. Sort of like a drug would do but without the side effects. But it only lasts about twoish hours.

Dabi is one of the strongest villains of the League of Villians, and here is his, caught and acting like a child. He has two broken ribs, a punctured spleen, a concussion, and a sprained wrist. Other than the spleen that has been taken care of, the rest were not deadly. But he acted like he was on his deathbed. 

Day three of his antics, and you were already used to it. You were assigned to be his personal nurse because, for some reason or another, Dabi here has threatened to murder every single one of your coworkers. It actually surprised you, seeing how whiny and docile he was with you. But then again, he is a villain. They are full of surprises. “You already ate, and I am doing something right now. Do you want me to call in my assistant to help you?”

“The one with the big nose and dreary eyes?” You sigh but hum in agreement, knowing if you react to that, he will just fiend off the attention. “Pass. Why would I want him when you treat me so well, pretty?” You refuse to blush. He was just teasing you; you were just another toy to play with. “Awe, don’t ignore me. Cmon, I won’t bite.” 

You raise your eyebrow like this, and for the first time since you walked into his room, looked at him. “You tried biting the other nurse yesterday!” 

At your reaction, he tilts his head to the side and shows a lazy grin. “There’s that pretty face I have been waiting for.” You groan and begin to grab your tools and leave the room when he stops you. “Hey–Hey! Okay, yes, I did try bite her, but she deserved it! I called for you, not her. The bitch tried to touch me.”

You turn from the door and face him, a frown on your face. “And if I try to to touch you, will you bite me too?”

The smirk doesn’t fall. “You want to find out?” This time you do blush. You can’t help it. The man was just insufferably flirty. You sigh loudly and finally leave the room. He groans when the doctor passes you and walks into his room.

Dabi has been watching you for a couple of weeks now. The first time he saw you was when you helped Toga out, surprisingly. You must not have recognized her because when you saw the child-like villain covered in bruises and scratches (from a fight with a hero), you immediately stopped your walk from home to help her. Of course, the girl tried to kill you, but with one glare from the fire welder, she stopped. You didn’t see him at the time, but he was definitely there, just watching from the shadows.

He watched as you took away her pain, and he remembered his eyes widening and heart thumping. You could heal him, make all of his pain just slip through his fingers. No more of the nauseating pain of the staples in his skin and the nights where he stayed awake from the burns that sometimes would flare.

It was an infatuation at first. But as the days went on of him watching you walk home, he grew more and more attached. He would send wounded people and animals to you to see just how you react. Eventually, after the first week, he grew more bold. He sent wounded villains to see how you would react. 

As expected, you took some of their pain away and told them exactly what to do to keep their wounds clean and how exactly to heal them. Dabi, of course, watched and made sure non of them tried to touch you. But he knew you also had some sort of moral because when you left the injured villains, you called the police, who sent heroes that tried and failed to scout for the villains.

You were kind. Even if technically you weren’t interested in villains, you were interested in helping people. He burned, and you healed. The two of you would never work, but still, Dabi couldn’t stop the infatuation. The one stemming from your quirk and now onto just you as a whole.

So, he got himself arrested. He didn’t put up much of a fight and knew that the heroes would kick his ass and send him to the hospital. The blue-eyed man went out of his way to provoke them, but still, his injuries were minor compared to what he wanted. If he were in critical need of help, you would have your attention on him and solely on him.

And now, he waits daily for you to walk into that dreary room. He waits for you to finally take away some of his pain when he closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep. He has to keep his moans in as, finally, for the first time, all of the itching and burning pain just disappears for a short period of time.

He was assigned other nurses before, but it pissed him off so immensely he threatened to kill them and their families. He would do it if they didn’t have some sort of relationship with you. He didn’t want to provide you with pain you couldn’t take away. 

But finally, after two days of being in the hospital, you were assigned his nurse, and things couldn’t be better. Of course, if you talked to him more sweetly, of course, but he would take all that he could get. It has been four days since he has been under your care.

“Was that really necessary?” Your beautiful, perfect voice asks when you walk in for his morning assessment. Instantly his fowl mood from seeing the Doctor vanishes.

He grins at your furrowed eyebrows, “What, the fake screaming or the fake seizure?”

“Both!”

He chuckles lightly at your exasperated expression. “You were taking too long. Missed my pretty little nurse.”  

You roll your eyes and sigh, walking over to the man. You look over his chart as he continues to ramble, “I had some dreams about you last night. You were naked of course, and you were in front of me–down on your knees and–”

“Dabi!” Your furiously blush is back when you cut him off, and he grins. He loved it when your cheeks turned adorably pink and your eyes looked everywhere except him. He loves your flustered expression. You were just so easy to tease. “N-No more of that, okay. You are giving me a hard time, Y’know, the other nurses think I am…doing something with you.”

He tugs against the chains just to hear them rattle against the bed. Trapped. But with you, so he could take it. He looks up at you with amusement. “What, fucking me?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “Yeah. The others are beginning to gossip, and if corporate believes them, I could lose my job. So, cool it with the flirty remarks, yeah villain?”

His eyes narrow at your remark. Were the others bullying you? He looks at the dark circles beneath your eyes. Were you staying up because you were worried about losing your job? The sick bastards.

He leans forward, as far as the cuffs allow him to, and whispers near your ear, “Y’know my little nurse, I can just kill them all. Then you wouldn’t be afraid.”

As expected, you jump back, and your eyes widen. You look toward the police at the front of his door and gulp, hoping they didn’t hear anything. When you do, though, you do a double take on your actions. Why were you afraid of him being caught? You should be reporting what he said to the police, not hiding it.

Dabi could basically read your mind. He saw your eyes flash to the police and had to bite his lip to hold back a smile. This was progress. On the first day, you reported him immediately for saying something. But now, you were almost hiding him. “No need to scold me, I know, I know. I won’t kill your friends and I’ll try to behave myself.”

You sigh and nod. “Thanks, Dabi.” You hate that you are beginning to treat him like he was another one of your patients. Or even more, a friend. He is a villain.

“Try. No promises, pretty.” You lightly elbow him in his shoulder, something you never do to patients. When the both of you realize this is the first time you touched him (other than at night or earlier mornings when you use your quirk), the two of you stare at each other. Then, slowly that small, villainous smile creeps upon his face, and you gulp and turn around.

You grab his breakfast from the tray behind you and shakily place it in front of him. Once down, you nod and begin to scramble away. Then you hear the sound of metal on metal and pause. You turn around and see his eyes flash to the cuffs around both of his hands, and you gasp in embarrassment. You knew he was chained up and couldn’t eat, but for some reason, you didn’t process it. He was driving your brain haywire. “Right! Sorry, so sorry. Let me grab you a spoon.”

Then with shaky hands and a wobbly smile, you dip the spoon into the oatmeal and raise the spoon up to his mouth. His eyebrows raise as your usual confident and professional composure slowly begins to fade. 

He knew he was finally beginning to play an effect on you. So, he opens his mouth and lets you feed the disgusting hospital food into his mouth. Those crystal blue eyes stare at you as you drag the clean spoon away from his mouth. For the first time in a bit, he is silent, no flirtatious remark, no whining, no threatening. He just stares at you. The silence made it hard for you to focus.

But eventually, he gets tired of the food. So, after one last bite, he finally speaks. “Thats enough, Doll. Thank you. But I’m feeling rather tired, mind if I rest for a bit?” This was the first time that he was kicking you out. It was strange, so you quickly nod your head and scramble out of his room. 

The two policemen give you a questioning glance at your fast departure, but you just smile clumsily and walk to your next patient, completely distracted by those piercing blue eyes that you can’t seem to escape.

Day five of caring for Dabi went the same as the fourth. Dabi making you feel flustered while you just trying your best to ignore it. He was a villain, after all. But, no matter how hard you try, the past two nights, your mind always drifts back to the man.

Whether or not Dabi threatened the others or not, you don’t know. But now, the other nurses don’t seem to mention the two of you. In fact, they seem to tiptoe around the topic of the villain under your care. When you told your patient about this, he seemed to be rather happy to be flirting with you again. You don’t know why you told him about the nurse update. He shouldn’t be flirting with you at all; you basically encouraged it with the new knowledge!

Either way, time went on, and now, it was day six. His spleen is basically healed, and he shouldn’t be at risk with any of his other injuries. He was leaving tomorrow. Not just leaving; going to prison. The thought makes you feel uneasy. “What is my pretty nurse thinking about now?”

You blush, being caught, and quickly shake your head. “Nothing much.”

Dabi smiles, knowing by the tint in your cheeks what exactly you were thinking about. But he cuts you some slack and changes the subject. “So, Y/N..” You turn toward him with a lack of a nickname. He chuckles. “What is your quirk?”

Of course, he knew what it is, seeing you use it on him every morning and night, but he wants you to use it on him when he is supposedly awake. Plus, you may have happened to forget to do it this morning, so he is not feeling as fantastic and refreshed as usual. “Oh. Well, I can take away peoples pain.”

He smiles at you. “Yeah? How?”

“Through touch. It’s simple really, just a light touch and my patients feel completely fine. But of course this can be dangerous, because we need pain to show our body we need treatment. They still can die, but they wouldnt feel any pain and wouldnt know really other than the physical signs that they are dying,” You explain, your professionalism coming back to you. You don’t usually share the darker aspect of your quirk, afraid others would find it scary, but for some reason or another, you felt comfortable enough to share with him. 

Dabi nods, already have thought of ways your beautiful quirk could be deadly. That is another reason why he was drawn to you in the first place. Like a poisonous flower. Pretty but if needed to be, deadly. “Can you test it on me?”

This was it. This entire time you used your quirk on him when he was sleeping because he was a villain. Your quirk wasn’t necessary for a patient. It was only to help. He killed people. He should be suffering. But yet you couldn’t let the man wither in pain. So, you turned to helping him in his sleep. He shouldn’t know that you were making him feel better. He didn’t deserve it.

But now, everything was so strange. You wanted to show the man that you can help him; make him feel better. “Yeah. Alright.” He smiles at you, the smile that makes your heart do circles and causes you so much confusion. 

You close your eyes and press your hand to his forehead and activate your quirk. You can feel his gaze on you; you know that those crystal eyes are staring right through you. It is so much different than him being awake. 

He lets out a sigh. The pain disappears, and so do the uncomfortable pricks of the staples. Just like before, everything begins to feel alright. Your hand leaves his body once completed, and he wishes his hands weren’t bound so that he could grab them and keep them there. He hasn’t felt such gentle warmth in such a long time. But he can’t, so he just watches your eyes open, and your kind smile fills your face. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” He murmurs, and your smile falls.

You look toward the floor in thought. How things are going to be back to normal without the villain here? How boring it is compared to being with him. You lightly scold yourself for thinking that. You were grateful for the job. And how could you complain when he was going to prison? This seemed like a dream compared to that. “Yeah. I would say, I’ll see you around. But, you know…prison and everything.”

To your surprise, he laughs at this. His body shakes with a smile, and the metal clacks with the bedrest from the movement, and you can’t help it. You begin to laugh too. You laugh as you think about how crazy you were for falling for a villain and how much it is going to hurt when he is gone. How the hell did someone you met less than a week ago, make you feel like this?

But then, someone on your pager breaks the moment. It’s an emergency. You sigh and quickly stand alert while Dabi’s laughs die down. “I got to go. I’ll be back for your dinner, alright? Please don’t be too bad for the other nurses, I can’t help you all day. It’s an emergency.”

He looks at you with that smile again. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tonight, my pretty little nurse.”

You nod and linger at the doorway for a second before finally turning and helping the next patient.

You didn’t see him for dinner. The new patient was in a critical car crash and needed high amounts of your quirk for them to feel alright during the surgeries. They ended up making it.

It was 11 pm. Dabi has bound to be asleep. He should be, considering he is leaving tomorrow at 7 am. 

You begin to put away your tools and sigh. You wonder if he had a hissy fit when one of the other nurses tried feeding him. If he threatened them or tried to bite them. You can’t help but laugh lightly at the thought. He was so different than anyone you have ever met. You craved it.

But he was leaving. Tomorrow he is leaving to spend his life in prison. As he should, he is a villain that killed, and you are the fool and almost as equally bad civilian who fell for him. 

His room was a couple of feet ahead of you. The lights were off, as expected. He has to be asleep. But maybe not. Maybe he is too restless with the thoughts of his future to be asleep. If you were in his shoes, you would be.

One peak couldn’t hurt. Just to check if he was asleep and maybe for the last time, use your quirk on him. As long as nobody saw you, it will be alright. So, you tiptoe to his door, and open it. 

The nightlight, which all rooms have, is on, and you can see his figure on the bed. You can barely tell that his chest is rising and falling. He is asleep. Still, you walk over to him and place your hand on his forehead, like earlier and activate your quirk.

Once finished, you sigh and lightly trace your finger along the scars and the staples that cover his face. You wonder how painful that ought to be, and your heartstrings tug when you think about how you can’t help him anymore.

But then you have this thought. One only a villain should have. Why don’t you help him escape? You breathe as your eyes widen in the dark. 

You gulp. Nobody will know its you, right? As long as he escapes, it’s not like he would tell anyone, right? He would owe you that.

So, you made up your mind. You’re going to free the villain. Metal pliers is what you need, but if you’re at a hospital, how the hell would get those? So you think of the next option. Or maybe something that can unlock them?

You scan the room, barely able to make out anything in the dark. A paperclip. You have seen one of the Youtube tutorials on how to break out of them using one of them. So, you quickly unbend the metal and get to work.

It’s dark. You cant see, and it isn’t working. Ten minutes have gone by, and you are next to the sleeping figure and struggling. You begin to cry and, out of anger, shake the cuffs and Dabi’s arm with it.

A quiet sob is let out. “God Damnit!” You whisper yell when suddenly the hand you are right next to you grabs your face. You let out a startled yelp into his hand, and he, in response, lets out a quiet “shh.”

When you finally realize that it is just Dabi, you pull away from the hand and take deep breaths. “What is my darling nurse trying to do? You tryna save me, Doll?” The hoarse voice whispers into the dark.

Tears continue to stream down your eyes. “I tried! I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Dabi. I wish-” You cover your mouth with another sob when you think about him spending the rest of his life in prison because of you.

“I know. I know. I was awake the entire time. You put up a bit of a fight, don’t ya, pretty? But hey, don’t worry. It’s alright.” You shake your head in the darkness, and Dabi smiles softly. “You know what I want you to do for me?”

“What?” You whimper quietly.

“Get in your car and drive home.” You begin to talk, but he cuts you off, “Don’t want you losing your job and sending you to prison for helping a nobody like me, hmm? I’ll be alright,” He reassures, which does absolutely nothing to you.

He uses the hand next to your face to brush away your tears. “B-But you’ll go to prison. For life.”

He hums in agreement. “Don’t worry your sweet little heart about it, alright? You trust me?” You shouldn’t, but you do. You trust in the villain you only met a week ago. You nod. “That’s it, good. Now get going, alright Doll? It’s late, and the roads can be dangerous.”

So, you stand as tears continue to fall down your face at your failure. You stuff the failed paperclip into your pocket. Then, you lean forward, and in the darkness, you find Dabi’s lips and press yours against them. 

He smiles at first and then kisses you back for a second before he pulls away. “Go. Now,” He commands. You nod, and scamper across the room, leaving the villain behind for the police to find tomorrow and take away forever.

The next morning is rough. You want to skip work so badly, but you don’t want the nurses to gossip. So, you sigh and drive yourself to the hospital.

When you arrive, you are surprised by the influx amount heroes and police inside the hospital. You turn to a doctor for questions, and she says, “You didn’t hear? Dabi escaped! Heroes everywhere are looking for him. I am so scared, what if he comes back and–” Her voice is drowned out after you heard the news.

He knew he was going to escape. He didn’t need your help at all. Now you looked like the crying mess who horribly failed to try to help him.

Without meaning to, you find yourself inside the room that heroes are crowded in front of. You drift over to the bed, with the missing handcuffs. Your hands trail along the now-empty pillow, and you can almost smell him.

Then, the nurse in you comes back, and almost like second nature, you begin to strip the bed. As the sheets come up, a paper falls down. 

You gulp, and your now trembling hands reach down and flip the small paper over. With messy handwriting and a burnt edge, you know this is Dabi’s work. Your heart thumps rapidly, and you can’t help but smile.

I’ll see you around, my pretty nurse.

[phneltwrites]

Sunday Snippet

This is from a new thing I'm working on, a time loop fic where Wilhelm has to keep reliving the anniversary of Erik's death. 🙈

“Something’s wrong with me,” Wilhelm whispers, and doesn’t mean like an illness. He means something fundamental is off.

She hums and kisses his head and doesn’t leave him.

He goes to therapy and says the same thing louder. His new therapist, Nina, is a patient middle-aged blonde woman who also works with high-profile athletes. He doesn’t know which ones, but sometimes he amuses himself by imagining who it could be. Olympic pole vaulters or singles tennis champions. 

She asks him why he thinks that and he can’t answer. Isn’t it obvious? Then she asks him where the feeling sits and he puts his hand on his chest, below his heart. Without meaning to, his hand forms a claw, fingers digging in like he could pop his ribs open and take out the organ that’s failing him. He’s heard he doesn’t need them all. He could get by without a spleen, with only one kidney, with only part of his liver.

Then, it clicks.

He’s summoned to a meeting in the Rose room, so named for the wallpaper, though most of the furnishings are green.

His mother waves him over. He walks through the room, nodding to Minou and Farima before he undoes his suit jacket and sits on the chaise next to her. His dad is also in attendance, on a chair on her other side. She puts her hand on the back of his head before returning it to her lap. If he was smaller, he’d snuggle in next to her, but he’s grown now and it would look comical even if it wasn’t inappropriate.

“Hi, gubben, how was school?” she asks. Her eyes are warm. She’s trying, and if he was better, he’d be able to muster more than the half smile he manages.

“It’s fine. I’m on top of my school work.” Wilhelm is, barely. He might still get a tutor thrown at him depending on how his next exam goes.

August walks into the room. He’s in his dress uniform even though he’s still in basic training. There’s probably some protocol reason for that, but Wilhelm doesn’t know it and hopes he won’t have to. He comes closer to them to greet mother and with every step August takes, the pit in Wilhelm’s stomach pulses, a murky wave. Directed energy, like a rotating neutron star. He wonders if that feeling will ever go away.

“Your Majesty,” he addresses her. “Crown Prince,” he adds quickly, and then steps to the side, finding a chair to sit in. 

Jan-Olof stands. He presses a button and the large black screen on a stand that has been wheeled in, turns on. “Your Majesty, your Royal Highnesses, we are here to go over the final itinerary and protocols for the one-year memorial commemoration for the former Crown Prince.

It hits him like a bowling ball, right in the solar plexus. He can’t stop himself from putting a hand on the spot.

And oh. That’s why it hurts. Not because something is in there that shouldn’t be, but because something is missing and can’t be put back.

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

the hardest part of writing is cutting very good passages simply because they don't fit the narrative in a cohesive way. ok remember this part?

He expected Gao Jianli to appreciate the story in the same way. But the look on the musician's face made him stop short. He had taken off his blindfold, there was no awe in his eyes, only pity.  "It must have been very painful," Gao Jianli whispered. "What's a little pain in the grand scheme of things?" the king replied with a laugh, amused by this girlish sentiment. "One suffers for a brief moment and earns a lifetime of benefits from it. Besides, I hardly remember it now."  The musician did not answer. He plucked a few notes on the zhu, and they sounded like raindrops falling on a hot terracotta roof. A gentle pitter-patter followed by the hiss of rising steam, like a tiny, sorrowful sigh.

Here's what was suppose to come after it:

The king frowned, not knowing if he liked this strange sound. It made something ache deep within his chest, a totally alien sensation. Like he was a bronze chime being rung with a mallet. Like the feet of one thousand ants marching across his skin. Like a cool, soft hand slipping under his clothes, tracing his fever-hot skin, and slotting itself between the bones of his ribs, worming around the fragile, blood-red membranes of his spleen and liver, so wrong and so, so gentle, higher and higher, until it reached his chest and laid itself softly over a bruise--  "That's enough!" King Ying Zheng's voice rang out harshly in the large, austere room. He had stepped backwards impulsively and almost tripped over the long train of his coat. It was a jerky, undignified movement, like he had been burned. Gao Jianli flinched at the king's voice and silenced the strings with press of his hands. His head was bowed like he was expecting a blow, yet his small, bright eyes were still focused intently on Ying Zheng.  The king stood there glaring at the musician, his chest heaving like he had run a mile, his mind all mist and jagged rocks. There was a gnawing at the back of his throat, the ghost of a memory of a boy who had been screaming for a long time, the wound torn afresh by the sight of a door opening twenty-three years too late, which was worse than never opening at all.  "Did that not please you, My King?" Gao Jianli's voice was rough. His tongue, small and pink, darted out and licked a bead of sweat from his upper lip. Ying Zheng itched to strike him, but could not force himself to get close enough to do so. The alchemy of Gao Jianli's music had not yet dissipated, the trembling coward was transfigured, in that moment he was half a sage and half venomous snake.  With great effort, the King of Qin collected the scattered pieces of himself with an imperious thrust of his chin. Qin men never show fear. In the bare light of day, the king could clearly see that the musician's hands were in fact very calloused. The tips of his fingers were armored in a thick yellow carapace, forged by decades of constant practice. Of course they're rough. The king reminded himself uneasily. Why had he assumed those hands would be soft? 

cutting this was the hardest decision in my life, but it just didn't fit. i cranked up the emotion too high without enough build-up, or any way to balance it out on the other end. (to put it frankly, there's not enough foreplay.) also gao jianli is suppose to be passively suicidal right now, and they've only just met. it would be a 180 for his character.

[allmightluver]

The extent of All Might’s injury

**(Light gore warning-talking about organs and medical complications as well as injuries)**

This is all based on what Toshinori has told us as well as looking at it in an anatomical level.

This is the best picture we have available of his scar’s placement. A reminder as well that in the manga the scar is actually higher on his chest.

You can see just how far this thing stretches: from his upper pectoral all the way down to his hip (that we know of). By trying to place a basic organ anatomy diagram as close to his positioning as possible, we get this.

This isn’t perfect, but his positioning is hard to match 😅 we get the general idea of where the scar lies. And if we remove Toshi from the screen we can really appreciate the positioning of where this beast lies in contrast to his organs.

Here I’ve outlined all the organs that are within the scar’s reach (marked in red). The blue circles are all the organs that lie directly underneath that crater in his chest. The pink circles are additional organs that are in the near vicinity and possibly could have been affected.

If we assume the center of his scar reached the deepest within his chest cavity, then the following would certainly have been either affected or destroyed:

Spleen

Basically half of his rib cage

Kidney

Half of the diaphragm

Stomach

Lung

At least half of his liver

Both small and large intestines

Now given the close proximity and the idea that this wound would have been much larger when it happened originally, my thoughts are these could also be affected:

Pancreas-as it lies behind the stomach

The heart. It’s sits closer to the left lung, so it easily could have been affected as well.

The other lung could also have been damaged simply from the way half of his chest was crushed and pushed into the other side. This could account some for the constant coughing up blood.

It’s honestly amazing he’s alive, and still somehow managed to continue his career for so long without the public realizing there was a problem. But doing so only exasperated his already damaged body, and the more people he saved the more he willingly destroyed himself.

[sorryichasedyourmorning]

TODAY'S ANGRY ESSAY: Why the Death of Bling Mag is Infuriating

Why is it infuriating? Because it wasn't NEEDED. Hear me out here, I have three major points.

Now, you've all totally heard this one. This is the point of logic and plot holes that everyone brings up. This is the fact that if they only needed her eyes, they wouldn't have to kill her for them. You've all heard this before.

2. THIS one always gets me. I want you to take a look at these two images.

This is my poorly made diagram of injuries. As you can see, the organs sustaining damage were the eyes, optical nerve, liver, both kidneys, spleen, stomach, gallbladder and there would be slight rib fractures. The thing is, with medical care and technology of the movie's time period, YOU CAN SURVIVE THIS. Even now, YOU CAN SURVIVE THIS. So yes, what theoretically would've killed her is either inability to breathe in the position that she was in or the eventual blood loss.

3. This one is a tad more far-fetched, but hear me out: Mag's contract's got some mighty fine print.

You already catch what I'm implying, and it isn't exactly 'crazy' for Rotti to try and take a swindling blow that low. The plain fact is, considering that logically she would've signed the contract before getting her eyes, it's possible that there was in fact some fine print that despite the text size, there'd be no possibility of her knowing what it said.

With this in consideration, the contract could be declared completely void, allowing her to keep the eyes or at least pay on her own, as she now clearly has the money to do so.

And that was why I think Mag dying is Infuriating. The end, I love ranting.

[mosylufanfic]

Rebelcap Whumptober Day 2

I went with the prompt in the title because I just loved it so much!

I’ll call out your name (but you won’t call back)

The first thing he heard was the monotonous beep of a heart monitor, slowly speeding up as he came to full consciousness.

The first thing he realized was that he couldn't move his arms or his legs.

"Easy!" said a voice. "Easy, easy. It's not permanent. We had to give you a paralytic."

He stared up at the strange face hovering over his. Twi'lek, he registered. He wasn't a prisoner of the Empire, then. 

Of course, that didn't mean he was among friends, either.

"I couldn't have you thrashing around and undoing all my hard work," the Twi'lek went on.

He made a questioning noise.

"I had to  brace your back to keep the spine immobile, remove your spleen and your appendix, set several ribs and vertebrae, and pump in a lot of synthblood. You're not entirely out of the woods but you may be seeing daylight. Do you know where you are?"

Scarif, he thought, but no. That was where he'd been. 

The last thing he remembered was kneeling on the beach, Jyn in his arms, holding onto her as his internal injuries and the shock wave of the boiling ocean raced each other to kill him first. And the burning point of her kyber crystal, pressed between them - 

How he had gotten from there to here was a mystery he couldn't even begin to solve.

Jyn. Where was Jyn? Dead? Somewhere else in this facility? He tried to look around but there was some kind of brace keeping his head immobilized. All he could see was a rough pourstone ceiling, pitted and stained with age, and some of the area around the foot of his bed. That wasn't any more informational - just pourstone wall and a jumble of medical-supply crates, long expired if their labeling was anything to go by. 

"You're on Tamsye Prime," the medic informed him. 

Tamsye Prime, he thought. Why was that important? Why was that ringing the most distant of alarms?

When he tried to reach for it, pain burst in his midsection like a bomb, and a groan escaped his throat.

"Sorry, let's get these meds dialed up." A couple of clicks, and something cool began to spread through his veins from a spot in his elbow.

"What are you doing?" said a second voice. "She wanted to know when he woke up."

"I'm checking him first." A straw nudged at his mouth, and he instinctively jerked his head away. "It's water," the medic said.

He considered pulling away again, but his throat was dust-dry and a coughing fit might tear him open. And this medic didn't seem the type to poison him after working so hard to put him back together. He accepted the drink, holding most of it in his mouth to trickle as gently as possible down his throat.

"Right away, she said."

"I'll comm her in a moment."

The painkiller started to take effect, blurring the knife edges of the pain into spiky clouds. He thought about asking for it to get dialed down again. He didn't like to be fuzzy. But he wasn't sure he could form coherent words.

Jyn, he thought. Jyn.

A click and a buzz and the second voice said, "Yeah, he's awake."

"Kriff you," said the medic.

"I'm not presenting my ass to be kicked along with yours," said the second voice. 

He lost time then, awareness blurring in and out until a door swished open. The mysterious Her.

"Everybody out," said a voice. It had the mechanical edge of a vocoder, distorting it from original. 

Shuffling and murmurs as people exited. 

"Everybody means everybody," said the vocoder'd voice. 

"Kest - " the medic said in a pleading voice. 

"Do I have to say it again?"

A pause, and one last set of footsteps, and the hiss of the door. 

He scrabbled through the clouds in his head to pull his thoughts together and work out what to do. 

Was this Jyn?

The aggression tracked. But why would she be wearing a vocoder? Unless she was trying to disguise herself from whoever it was that had them. 

"You awake?" said the voice, now clearly addressing him. 

He let his eyelids flutter in confusion that wasn't entirely feigned. 

"I'm turning down your painkiller drip so you're clearheaded enough to talk," she went on. "Of course, that means the pain will come back, too. If I like what you have to say, I'll turn your meds back up."

No. It couldn't be. Not talking to him like this.

He was pretty sure.

He waited long enough for the clouds to clear to the edges and then allowed his eyelids to slide open.

"Took you long enough," said the voice.

She was staying to one side of his head, correctly guessing that with his neck braced, his field of vision was severely limited. Anything he could use to guess at age and species were disguised by the vocoder, of course. Gender, too, if he hadn't heard the pronouns the medics used.

But he had the feeling that, like many inexperienced interrogators, this one was letting the vocoder do the work and didn't realize the kind of information he could extract from what it left behind. 

Like a Core accent, there in the syllabic emphasis, the rising and falling tones of the sentences. 

Like - 

No, it wasn't her. 

He didn't think. 

"What's your name?"

He flicked through aliases like flimsicards. "Aach," he managed. "Clem Aach."

"Hmm. Where do you come from, Clem Aach?"

"Ogem," he said. Mid-Rim, far enough away from Scarif so that if the Empire were searching for them - and the Empire had to be searching for them - it might throw these people off the scent. 

"How did you get here?"

"Crash," he said.

"Crashed in what? We didn't find any wreckage. Anywhere. "

He made a puzzled face, as if the lack of his entirely fictitious spacecraft was a surprise to him as well. "Crashed," he said again. 

Silence for a moment, as if she thought he might change his mind about that. He waited it out with the patience of one who used silence like a scalpel. 

Soon, much sooner than he would have, she went on, "I was the one who found you. In a rock canyon just outside our perimeter."

"Thank - you," he managed. A little politeness sometimes went a long way, and if he played this right, they might think he was some gormless civilian in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"You were saying a name," the voice said. 

"I was?"

"That name is why I brought you back. You think we waste resources on every broken wreck of a being we find in the wastes? I want to know where you heard that name."

"Don't know," he lied. "Maybe - delirious?" That was possibly not a lie. Given the extent of his injuries, and his lack of memory, he could have been delirious. He hoped he hadn't dropped anything other than Jyn's name.

Because who else would he have been calling out for?

"Handy," the voice said. 

Stalemate. He wasn't willing to betray Jyn's identity, she wasn't willing to give him anything to go on. 

And yet, his captor had already heard him. If he admitted to it, maybe they could get somewhere. Even if "somewhere" was knowing how he'd ended up here. 

"Could - have - could have been 'Jyn,'" he said. 

Silence again. This time, calm and considering, like she was working out which of his fingers or toes to slice off first. "Jyn Erso," she said.

Hells. He had said her full name. Maybe in response to someone. That wasn't like him. 

Reluctantly - "Maybe."

The footsteps again, traversing the length of his bed. Slowly, his interrogator stepped into view. 

It was Jyn.

And it wasn't.

Her face was different - rounder in some parts, sharper in others. Her mouth was softer and fuller, most of the lines and shadows around her eyes missing, some scars vanished, only smooth skin in their place. And there was no recognition in her eyes as she looked at him. Just suspicion. 

Her eyes cut to the heart monitor, whose high beeps matched the sudden galloping pace of his heart. "So you do know who I am," she said.

He made a noise of partial assent, still staring dumbfounded. If the girl in front of him was a day older than sixteen, he'd walk into the nearest Imperial base and give himself up right now. 

"Good," she said. "We've got that out of the way." She stepped out of his line of sight again, and he stared at the ceiling, trying to feel his way through a situation that had suddenly gotten a lot stranger - and it hadn't been particularly normal in the first place. 

Tamsye Prime.

Sixteen-year-old Jyn. Clearly not going by her original name, and not willing for anyone else to hear it, even in the Partisans - for that had to be who the others had been. 

Impossible. 

The dial of the medication clicked again, two times. Three. Downward, as there was no cool rush into his elbow again. 

"Now," she said very softly. "Who sent you?"

FINIS

Inspired by the woooorrrrrrld of difference between Felicity Jones as Catherine Morland and Felicity Jones as Jyn Erso.

[kayhi808]

Perfect Match - 17

The New York evening is the same as it ever was. Crisp air with just a touch of autumn. The endless sounds of traffic & sirens. Only this time one of the sirens belongs to your ambulance. Bill is besides you, holding your hand while the paramedics try to keep you stable until they reach the emergency room.

They push through the doors and Bill's stopped by a tiny woman in hospital scrubs. "I'm sorry, sir. No one is allowed beyond this point. How about I show you where you can wait," guiding Bill to the waiting room. Bill doesn't find the cream-colored walls & green upholstery the least bit calming. "When we know more, we'll update you, ok?" She gently pats Bill's hand & rushes back through the swinging doors.

Bill wants to argue, but what good will that do him? Billy isn't left alone for long. Soon he's joined by his friends and your grandparents. Some other members of your grandfather's inner circle. Men who watched you grow up, mentored you, trained you. All sat nervously in the waiting room for any information they could get on you.

Time passes so slowly as all they just wait. Everyone is asleep in chairs or returned home, promising to be back in the morning. Billy sits quietly, for 8 hours when a doctor finally appears, making Bill jump out of his seat.

"Are you the family of Y/N Luciano?" she quietly asks.

"Yes, I'm her fiance, Bill Russo. Her grandparents are asleep over there."

"I'm Dr. Wallace. It was very smart of Y/N to legally name you as next of kin when you got engaged. We have the paperwork on file." Billy breaks into a soft smile, mentally thanking Enzo and his ability to make anything materialize. And trusting him enough to name Bill as her next of kin.

"That's my girl. Please, doctor, I have to know how she is." The doctor pat's Bill's shoulder & leads him off to the corner.

"Y/N sustained some pretty horrific injuries, and as you know, she has undergone an extremely complicated surgery. We had to remove her gallbladder & spleen due to the knife wound. We struggled to locate all the places that she was bleeding internally, but I believe we got them all. She has multiple rib fractures, and one of those ribs had punctured her lung. She has a chest tube in place and a machine beathing for her at the moment. She lost a lot of blood and we are currently having it replaced. She's not out of the woods yet, but i am hopeful. She seems like a very strong young lady."

Looking down at the doctor, Bill can see there is more she's deliberately not telling him. A fear goes through him. "What aren't you saying?"

"Unfortunately, no matter how hard we tried, we were unable to save the baby." The world drops out from under Bill. His angel was pregnant? Did she know? Why didn't she tell him? "She was only a few weeks along. She might not have even known, not that it makes it any easier, of course. I am very sorry."

Bill nods, "I have no idea what to say. I didn't know she was pregnant. I'm pretty sure she didn't realize it either." Bill's in a daze. Even though he just found out, he feels like something's been stolen from you both. "Can she get pregnant again when the time is right?" he asks hopefully.

"I'd be very hopeful. Nevertheless, you could get some help with IVF, if it is needed."

"I'd sell a kidney if it meant her getting everything she wanted," he attempts jokingly.

"Well, legally I don't think I can take your kidney."

"Can I see her, Doc?

"We're getting her settled in intensive care. You can come in one at a time to see her."

"I'll be staying with her. The visitors won't be a problem."

"Okay, a nurse will be through shortly to show you where Y/N is. She'll probably sleep most of the night, but that's what we want; her body to heal itself."

Bill shakes the doctor's hand, thanking her for everything. He wakes everyone to update them on your condition. Except for the baby. You should know about the baby before anyone else does. Bill will make it a point to let the nurses know its confidential information. He wants to be the one to tell you.

Walking into the room, and seeing his Angel looking so small, battered & bruised, breaks Bill's heart. He sits down beside your bed and gently takes your hand in his. It squeezes his heart that there's no response from you. He starts talking. He tells you about all the shit that has went down. He tells you he loves you so many times & that he can't fucking wait to make a life with you. You just had to get better and wake up.

*****

You have no idea how much time has passed, but you realize it's nighttime. Everything seems quieter. The lights are low. You do realize that Bill's curled up beside you. An act that he's perfected now to ensure he doesn't catch any of your wires or tubing. As you wake you start taking inventory on all your aches and pains. You shift and Bill wakes immediately. He looks down at you with a smile that lights up his face and presses the nurses call button.

"Hey beautiful."

Tears escape, "I missed our wedding," you whisper hoarsely.

Billy kisses your face, "We can do it anytime you want, Angel. I am all yours. Forever. I love you, Y/N. I've waited forever to say those words to you.

"You did tell me. I heard you; you know. While I was asleep. I heard you tell me every day. Those words helped me fight to get back to you."

The nurse catches Billy midway through untangling himself from your wires, "Mr. Russo," with an exasperated sigh. They've given up on scolding him because he doesn't listen. He'll always find a way back to your bed. "Hello, Ms Luciano, I'm Kate." She very efficiently starts taking your vitals, swatting Billy out of her way. How are you feeling? On a scale of 1-10, what's your pain level?

You quickly look at Billy's scowl, "Um..."

"Don't look at him scowling. I need to know so we can prescribe you something to make you more comfortable. Your man there don't want you to be in pain either."

"7"

"Ok, we'll fix up something for you right away. We had to lower your dosage, in order for you to wake up." Again, the nurse has to nudge Billy out of her way, "You're lucky to have one very dedicated man. He hasn't left your side through all of this. He can improve on his listening skills and rule following, but you're still really lucky."

"No, ma'am," squeezing back next to you on the bed & dropping a kiss to your forehead, "I'm the lucky one."

@e-dubbc11 @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @idaofinfinity @snowkestrel @jvanilly @pequodprincessa @aoi-targaryen @danzer8705

[darkness-and-books]

I Don’t Know Where My Spleen Is

Jim Kirk x gn!reader

⚠️: I don’t think there are any

~at this point it’s just my goal to find concerning titles~ word count: 355

It was shore leave, one of the few that you genuinely got to have without fighting some alien or being invaded by tribbles for. For god only knows what reason, the crew (and by crew I mean Kirk) decided that it would be fun for the crew and officers to try American football 🏈. So far it’s caused a lot of injuries, a headache for Bones, and the current situation. ——— “You’re crushing my spleen!” Kirk shouted as I had an elbow in his ribs and was trying to pry the ball away from him. “Oh come on, Captain!” I tried prying a little harder before continuing, “you don’t even know where your spleen is, there’s no way you would know if I were crushing it” I said through gritted teeth. “You’re right” he said before flipping me over and getting up, “I don’t know where my spleen is” just as he was about to run I grabbed him by the ankle and he fell face first (this had to be against the rules, but I don’t think we’re really playing by the rules anymore). Bones could be seen standing on the sideline and shaking his head. I climbed up over Jim so we were face to face. I smiled at him (he should have known I was planning something right then) I leaned in and began kissing him. I could hear a chorus of disgusted groans and sighs from all around the field, “Get a room!” Scotty shouted from one end of the field. I slowly worked my hands around to Jim’s sides. I snatched the ball and ran. Meanwhile behind me, Jim was still laying on the ground, dazed over and staring up at the sky. “Alright, Jim, I think that’s game over for you” Bones said as he helped Jim off the ground and onto the bleachers. I blew Jim a kiss from the end zone and he blushed, just before I got tackled to the ground by Nyota. “Serves you for making out during the game” she playfully chastised before sprinting to the other end of the field with the ball.

[inkyquince]

Real talk as a dragon age fan, Inky if you could choose from past companions and the Veilguard team who would you want to stick in a room together to talk/throw hands

For talking? God I wanna see Zevran and Josie and Lucanis chatting. Josie to keep the peace since Zevran is an exiled crow, but also in case Lucanis actually likes the guy. Love them.

Varric and Alistair. Just because it would be funny. Out of pocket shit plus with daddly advice? Alistair might cry.

I want Anders and Wynne to have a proper sit down and talk, i feel like it would be so healing for the poor guy. Also Spite and Justice, just to show how despite Lucanis also being an abomination, he embraced Spite and now they're living their best life together, all poly. Anders and Justice NEVER found this harmony and so are constantly struggling.

MERILL AND BELLARA WOULD BE THE BEST, THEY'D BE BEST FRIENDS?? Oh my god. I'd love to sit in on that conversation.

Isabella and Zevran deserve a third reunion, their banter is always amazing.

EMMERICH AND DORIAN SINCE ITS CANON EMMERICH TAUGHT DORIAN. HE TAUGHT BABY GAY DORIAN AND NOW DORIAN HAS A MOUSTACHE LIKE HIS BISEXUAL PROFESSOR. They deserve a sit down and a chat.

Aveline and Cassandra should start a bookclub. I love them.

Taash, Iron Bull and Sten would be the most awkward, horrific sit down and I need to document it like they're insects. Like brother, the future Arishock?? Ben Hassrath turned Tal Vashoth Iron Bull?? Taash, taken away from the Qun and now sees themselves as more Rivaini? I dont want them to HANG OUT, just be forced into the same waiting room for a bit.

To fight?

I want Fenris to lay Solas out. I want him to rip out his spleen and make him eat it. Solas wouldn't be able to do SHIT against Fenris. Die, stupid egg.

Also doesn't REALLY count but Serana/Amell should meet Inquisition Cullen and beat the fuck outta him. Any mage inquisitor should meet Origins Cullen and beat the fuck outta him. Hawke should remain kicking that man in the ribs.

Also I know in my gut that just the sight of Scout Harding would fuck Oghren up.